Sternkind: Sternenfinsternis

Continuation

2010-01-19T11:40:00.000-08:00

Recently I started to wonder if I should continue writting this blog. And I think I will - just for myself. I changed my opinion on blogs.

But the continuation will start after my exama - I guess it will be fully understood... ^^

A light in the darkness

2009-12-16T10:44:00.000-08:00

"There's a light in the darkness of everybody's life", sang Brad and Janet in my beloved "Rocky Horror Picture Show". So there is one in my annoying life today;
I got some adulation today and I must admit I relished in it. And that motivated me to write a new post.

Another point of light is a poem I came across lately. And fell in love with it. It's been such a long time since I last time read poetry, but I think it'll be good to get used to enjoying it again.

James Schuyler, Korean Mums

beside me in this garden
are huge and daisy-like
(why not? are not
oxeye daisies a chrysanthemum?),
shrubby and thick-stalked,
the leaves pointing up
the stems from which
the flowers burst in
sunbursts. I love
this garden in all its moods,
even under its winter coat
of salt hay, or now,
in October, more than
half gone over: here
a rose, there a clump
of aconite. This morning
one of the dogs killed
a barn owl. Bob saw
it happen, tried to
intervene. The airedale
snapped its neck and left
it lying. Now the bird
lies buried by an apple
tree. Last evening
from the table we saw
the owl, huge in the dusk,
circling the field
on owl-silent wings.
The first one ever seen
here: now it's gone,
a dream you just remember.

The dogs are barking. In
the studio music plays
and Bob and Darragh paint.
I sit scribbling in a little
notebook at a garden table,
too hot in a heavy shirt
in the mid-October sun
into which the Korean mums
all face. There is a
dull book with me,
an apple core, cigarettes,
an ashtray. Behind me
the rue I gave Bob
flourishes. Light on leaves,
so much to see, and
all I really see is that
owl, its bulk troubling
the twilight. I'll
soon forget it: what
is there I have not forgot?
Or one day will forget:
this garden, the breeze
in stillness, even
the words, Korean mums.

Wonderful, isn't it? "(...) its bulk troubling/ the twilight (...)" - my very favourite phrase - so imaginative and melodious.

I cannot remember now who said that it is poetry that makes us humans. Well, when I read poems like this above I feel disposed to add a bit of sense (and sensivity) to my life just with the aid of poetry.

Exhausted

2009-11-18T13:47:00.000-08:00

Just exhausted. Does it count as a note?

Ally McBeal

2009-11-16T11:28:00.000-08:00

Every time I see 'Ally McBeal' I feel Christmas coming, even if it's in the middle of June. Oh, I know very well that this series is completely unrealistic and that the main character is an naive, incurable romantic who believes in eternal love and wonders, what makes her an exact opposite of me and at the same time a person I secretly wish to be. Perhaps in a small world of Cage&Fish among all these imperfect and slightly mad but absolutely lovable people that would even be possible, unfortunately in the world I live such a woman sipmly won't survive...

Again...

2009-11-11T13:19:00.000-08:00

Again, I've completely forgotten about this blog. It's because there is so much to be done and remembered... I cannot imagine how people find time for writing 'real' blogs... Well, actually it's not true what I've written - I've seen lately some blogs while looking for inspiration; and I found nothing, because most of them contain notes like "Breakfast. Asleep. Broken heart. Why are people so cruel? Great party."

So may I try?

Going to sleep. Cat's purring. Melancholy. Carrot cake and milk. Steve Barton's singing.

Suffering and truth

2009-11-08T12:37:00.000-08:00

Today I read an essay by Anthony de Mello about awarness and truth. It really stroke me. In brief, he says that it is not important to know what 'myself' is as it is impossible to learn. We should throw away our views and stop searching for truth because truth is not something to be found, it simply is. He also claims, that we suffer because we are asleep. Suffering is given to us to open our eyes for truth, to let us understand that somewhere there is some falsehood. Suffering occurs when our illusions collide with reallity, when falsehood collides with truth. Appart from that there is no suffering.

It is so true, yet resigning form our illusions in aid of truth is... something that seems tough and cruel, but is it such really?

Cat

2009-11-06T15:08:00.000-08:00

I know I was to write every day, but I've got a cat (Maine Coon) since Wednesday, so I'm absolutely absorbed with... well, that's the point. I haven't chosen his name yet. I thought of Maurice, Marlowe, Octavio, Marlon, Walter, Richard, Friedrich, Shelly, even Simba (I know, I know, but that's so cute...). In the breed they called him Ares, but the name of the god of war does not really suit him... he's absolutely adorable, blue-grey with white strips, paws, eye rims and muzzle. And honey eyes. And he has tuffs on his ears, like a lynx, and an extremely long and thick tail. Right now he's lying on my arm and wondering what the hell I'm doing at this hour outside our bed. As you can see, I'm not able to talk or write about anything else, so I'd better finish...

Nostalgia

2009-11-03T13:21:00.000-08:00

November is a month when I feel nostalgia much often and deeper than usually. Today I accidentally found one of my short stories written in my schooldays...

When in Rome, do as Romans do
‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!’ Kate cried out.
‘My family must meet you at one time’, Preston tried to explain.
‘But you mother treats me like a woman in scarlet!’
‘I know, but it’s only one weekend… Remember: when in Rome, do as the Romans do and everything will be ok’, Preston didn’t loose his calmness.
His mother, Mrs Downey, had asked him and Kate for a weekend in her residence, where Kate would be introduced to Preston’s family. The problem was his family was very conservative and Kate… well, she was not conservative at all.
‘What do you mean?’ Kate asked suspiciously.
‘Wear a blouse with a high collar, a long skirt, smile shyly and don’t speak much.’
‘A Victorian!’ Kate wheezed with the highest disapproval.
But on Friday they finally arrived at Mrs Downey’s and Kate behaved in a perfect Victorian way during the whole greeting dinner. Preston was really relieved and proud of his almost-roman Kate and Mrs Downey –
- nicely surprised. ‘She’s quite a proper girl after all’, she thought with appreciation. We’ll pass over Kate’s thoughts, because they were rather unprintable. The moment the dinner ended Kate hurried to her bedroom without speaking to Preston. Hardly had she started falling asleep, when she heard someone knocking the door.
‘That’s me. Let me in’, Preston whispered.
‘What for?’ Kate asked innocently.
‘Oh, come on, Kate. Everybody’s asleep’
‘So what?’
‘So what?! Kate, stop joking and let me in’, Preston was becoming irritated.
‘But we’re in Rome, my dear, have you forgotten?’ said Kate in a sweet voice.

To be honest, I've been almost sure that I was much more naive those days...

Being brilliant

2009-11-02T12:42:00.000-08:00

Back to Warsaw. Dear god (I mean, any god, I'm not going to be fussy), I really do hate living in the city. Cities represent the worst and the dullest side of humanity. In Warsaw people try to be brilliant at breakfast which is, according to great Oscar Wilde, the most terrible vice possible. In my vicinity it is undecent to be brilliant until dinner. But anyway, Warsaw is better than Krakow at least... A place where people are brilliant even before the dawn, after hectolitres of absinthe? Brrr...

Finding Neverland

2009-11-01T12:44:00.000-08:00

Today TVP 2 decided to remind me about existence of a lovely film by Marc Forster, 'Finding Neverland'. Though I knew very well that watching this film would end up with emotional cofusion, I did it. With premeditation. And I made my mother watch it as well.

Many times I have wondered why such stories touch me so deeply. I mean, stories about children, their dreams and fantasies, their expectations and relations with adults. And the way they perceive the world of adults and vice versa.

I had a very long and exciting childhood, but I'd never experienced the agonies of adolescence. I just became an adult without being a teenager. Maybe that's why the world of children is so close to me. And I feel so sorry for people, who cannot sometimes be children any more. And for children who have to deal with such adults. And for those (including many 'contemporary' children, unfortunately) who've never believed in fairies, who've never searched for the head of Nile River or chosen themselves an Indian name. For those, who've never felt the excitement of exploring new wardrobes, hoping they'd find another word behind the door. The essence of childhood should be curiousity, adventure and mystery. And enthusiasm.

I think this could be the prescription for happiness - to keep our inner child alive without being infantile. To always have something we are enthusiastic about. Something that will remain a mystery to us so that we could never stop being curious and longing for adventures.

I hope my philosophizing doesn't sound like Paulo Coelho... :P

Daily routine

2009-10-31T15:11:00.000-07:00

I know I missed two posts, so I worked out that I'll have to write one post every day till Friday to make it up. Though, to be honest, I have no idea what shall I write about, my daily routine is killing me and I'm sure no one is interested in my sharing it with them, and even if one is, I'm not. Nothing special. I'm in Kętrzyn now and maybe tomorrow, after visiting our cemetery I'll have some more universal reflections to share.

The Nobel Prize Laureates video

2009-10-25T11:31:00.000-07:00

I really liked the two interviews with the Nobel Peace Prize Laureats, John Hume and Mairead Corrigan, especially the second one - it forced me to overthink some primary issues we are used to think about much less than we should.

Of course, I do absolutely agree with everything that Mairead Corrigan says, for her arguments should be obvious and appealing to everyone. But what really stroke me was the notion, that no one touches such important issues like international policy, human rights and legalised violence in everyday life. Media are getting excited about accidents like the Roman Polański's case (about which I'm going to write another time), the gambling affair, etc, which are matters of a second-rate importance. Oh, I know that the 'fourth power' makes its own rules but why do people agree for that? Why people, having such a powerfull device like the Internet use it for such trivial purposes as they do? Why they do not care about their governments performing immoral and inhuman deeds to other nations?

"Well, there's nothing WE can do" - will say most of us. Maybe I'm an idealist, but I believe that something has to be done. And I prefer do be called a driver rather than an idealist, according to a very wise joke (I'll write it here, as if may be not known: a pessimist, an optimist and a realist are standing on rails. The pessimist sees a dark tunnel. The optimist sees a light in the tunnel. The realist sees a train coming and a driver sees three idiots on the rails).

So I exhort: let's be the drivers and drive the world into more human, peacful direction! Let's put into everyday discussion really important issuses, let's get engaged and don't waste our time putting our photos in the next new dress with the next new boyfriend on "Nasza klasa"! Let's stop pouring out our anger on respected people who've made mistakes in their past and let's start asking question: why? Why this world is getting so unhuman and unsocial, when the newest technologies should give the exactly opposite effect?
For your consideration.

I don't believe in blogging...

2009-10-23T13:12:00.000-07:00

... well, unfortunately it's true. I cannot understand the need of exposing one's life in public. And I cannot see why some stranger should be interested in my private opinions and vice versa. But as it seems that I have no choice, I'll do my best to make this blog interesting. Yet, please, consider that I've written 'interesting', that means not: nice, flattering, conformistic, objective, playing to the gallery, etc. Actually, I'm afraid it might be a complete opposition.

Although I have the Facebook I didn't want it to be my project as it serves me rather as a communicator than a 'diary'. And I'm afraid that if my friends from clinical psychology see me starting writing on the table anything appart from stuff like this: 'my party beggins at 20.00, please, call me' or 'I got "Columbia" result in "The Rocky Horror Picture Show character quiz", can you believe?!', they'll order me an instant therapy.

Maybe I should explain why I don't believe in blogging and any forms of 'second life'. Well, one doesn't need to be a psychologist to be to be aware of the fact, that if we spend most of our life, as far as its social and other aspects are concerned, on the Internet, then we'll loose more than we'll gain. The Internet is a useful device but why, for god's sake, we should do everything on net?

Reading? Very well, but you can't touch the paper, smell it and hear its rustling. Watching films? But where is the atmosphere of the real cinema? Similar arguments I can find for shopping, having conversation, etc. Fortunately, it's not an essay on "Internet: pros and cons" so I'll skip them, they're obvious for a thinking man. On the Internet we get instant and soulless version of everything. I'm really sorry that I don't value the power of the Internet enough, but I just don't buy living in a virtual world. I prefer the real one. I prefer less but better. I prefer real imperfections to the artificial ideals. I know this may sound like cheap rhetoric, but I always get a bit emotional while defencing my vision of life, even if it's more suitable for a dinosaur than a young girl in her twenties. Howgh.

P.S. This post is probably longer than anyone can possibly stand. I am truly sorry.