sobota, 16. januar 2016

"Words are Windows (or they're Walls)
I feel so sentenced by your words, I feel so judged and sent away,
before I go I've got to know,
is that what you mean to say?
Before I rise to my defense,
before I speak in hurt or fear,
before I build that wall of words,
tell me, did I really hear?
Words are windows, or they're walls,
they sentence us, or set us free.
When I speak and when I hear,
let the love light shine through me.

There are things I need to say, 
things that mean so much to me, 
if my words don't make me clear,
will you help me to be free?
If I seemed to pit you down,
if you felt I didn't care,
try to listen through my words,
to the feelings that we share."

(Ruth Bebermayer)

nedelja, 30. avgust 2015

Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99 
Wear sunscrean

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. 
The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists 
whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable 
than my own meandering experience … 
I will dispense this advice now. 

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh nevermind; 
you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can’t grasp now 
how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked ...
You’re not as fat as you imagine. 
Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. 
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; 
the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday. 
Do one thing everyday that scares you 
Sing 
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts, 
don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours. 
Floss 
Don’t waste your time on jealousy; 
sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind …
the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself. 
Remember the compliments you receive, 
forget the insults; 
if you succeed in doing this, tell me how. 
Keep your old love letters, throw away your old bank statements. 
Stretch 
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life … 
the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t. 
Get plenty of calcium. 
Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone. 
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, 
maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t, 
maybe you’ll divorce at 40, 
maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary …
what ever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either 
– your choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s. 
Enjoy your body, use it every way you can … 
don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it, 
it’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own. 
Dance … 
even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room. 
Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them. 
Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly. 
Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for good. 
Be nice to your siblings; 
they are the best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future. Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. 
Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because 
the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young. 
Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; 
live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. 
Travel. 
Accept certain inalienable truths, 
prices will rise, politicians will philander, you too will get old, 
and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, 
politicians were noble and children respected their elders. 
Respect your elders. 
Don’t expect anyone else to support you. 
Maybe you have a trust fund, maybe you have a wealthy spouse; 
but you never know when either one might run out. 
Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85. 
Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. 
Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, 
wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth. 
But trust me on the sunscreen …

Baz Luhrmann 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfq_A8nXMsQ

Ednina

Ona si je želela pomladi, on je hotel podaljšati zimo.
Ona razmišlja o prihodnosti, njemu je šlo v preteklosti bolje.
Ona ima nekaj težkih izkušenj za seboj, on jim stopa naproti.
Ona se lahko prilagodi, on hoče, da se drugi prilagodijo njemu.
Ona je vedno bolj zaupljiva, on se ves čas ozira okrog sebe.
Ona je potrpežljiva, on zgublja potrpljenje.

Ona je za disco in on za rock and roll.

Všeč

Včasih stvari vzete iz konteksta, dobijo še več pomena ...

"Poleg tega sodim v generacijo, ki ji v otroštvu ni bilo dovoljeno govoriti, razen ob redkih priložnostih in če si vprašal za dovoljenje. Vendar te niso poslušali in pogosto so te prekiniki, češ, utihni. Od tod je lahko razumeti težave, ki jih imajo nekateri izmed nas pri govorjenju, bodisi so negotovi bodisi prehitri, kot da bi se bali, da jih bodo zdaj zdaj prekinili. Zato sem si najbrž, kot številni drugi, ob koncu otroštva zaželel, da bi pisal. Tako upaš, da te bodo odrasli brali. Prisiljeni te bodo poslušati, ne da bi te prekinili, in končno bodo izvedeli, kaj ti leži na srcu."

Iz intervjuja s Patrickom Modianom ob prejetju Nobelove nagrade za književnost: Pisanje je nenavadno samotno delo

(Objektiv, 13. December 2014)

Iskrica

"Včasih si znam sama prav dobro svetovati, le držati se lastnega nasveta še ne zmorem."
(Mary Wortley Montagu)

V kino z otrokom

Po neuspelem poskusu nakupa vstopnic brez rezervacije (eni se celo življenje učimo ...), smo včeraj končno prišli do ogleda Backa Jona v Kinodvoru. Za menoj je sedela starejša gospa, babica z vnučkom, ki je pred začetkom filma že skritizirala vse, ki so zadnji trenutek še ugašali telefone. Češ kako lahko ...
Luči se ugasnejo in gospa prične z razlago filma, tolmačenjem, ne vem kako bi to rekla. Z normalnim, niti malo stišanim glasom, je pač celoten film komentirala dogajanje na platnu.
Nekje na polovici filma sem jo vljudno prosila, če lahko samo malo tiše. Pa sem ostala nesliš(a)na in nevidna. Ker sem vzgojena v "live and let live", sem poskušala glas odmislit in vseeno uživat v filmu. Priporočam, lušten je. Sploh če ste oboževalci Backa Jona tudi v sicer. No, tisti kratki, televizijski, je boljši, ampak vseeno.

Razmišljam o tem kako različne generacije gledajo na otroke in kako sem vesela, da se stvari spreminjajo, čeravno počasi. Je mar res potrebno otrokom razlagati, kaj se v risankah, filmih ipd. dogaja, ker sicer ne bodo "prav gledali", ne bodo dojeli bistva, ne bodo razumeli zgodbe ... Ne bodo razvili domišljije?
Ob tem sem se spomnila še svoje lastne izkušnje, ko je mojim otrokom njihova babica pela pesmico o neki žabici, ki umre. Se spomnim svojega vprašujočega pogleda takrat (ne vem pravzaprav zakaj) in njenega "saj itak še ne razumeta".

In vem kaj me je pravzaprav zmotilo ... Gospa ni razumela zgodbe. Najbrž bi potrebovala razlago.

četrtek, 05. december 2013

Šerif Miklavž

Danes je bil en tistih trenutkov, ko si nekje vmes. Ko nisi več otrok, pa ne čisto odrasel. Ko se potrudiš narest svojim otrokom veselje, ker veš da te morda že jutri čaka vprašanje: mami, a Božiček res obstaja?

Vsako leto, no, zadnji dve leti, z malce negotovosti čakam na praznični čas in na veseli december. Ko začnejo v nabiralnik prihajat katalogi z igračami, starejši otrok pogleduje k meni z enim očescem, medtem ko ugotavlja, da je čas za pismo z željami. Jaz pa pogledujem k njemu in razmišljam kaj se dogaja v tej mali pametni glavi, ki me vsak dan preseneča s svojimi domislicami. Včasih tako modrimi, da kar gledam, in včasih tako otroškimi, da mu zavidam brezskrbnost.
Razmišljam, če mi bosta kdaj očitala, da lažem, če trdim da Božiček (Miklavž in Dedek Mraz) res obstaja. Razmišljam, če itak vesta, da se samo delamo, in sta to sprejela kot del "igrice", ki se jo pač igra cela družina. Razmišljam, če onadva vesta, da ni res, pa bi me rada samo razveselila. In razmišljam, če morda onadva itak vesta, da ni res, pa mislita, da jaz še vedno verjamem in mi tega nočeta pokvarit. In razmišljam o tem, kaj bi onadva rada verjela.

In potem pridemo pozno popoldne iz mesta, kjer je bil Miklavžev sprevod in sta se malo bala parkljev. In medtem ko se tuširata, da bi se pogrela, kuham čaj za tega gospoda s palico, ki v mrazu nosi otrokom sladkarije in suho sadje. V resnici pa napolnim košarico z vsemi packarijami, ki jih sicer nikoli nočem kupit, nastavim poleg na pol popito skodelico čaja, v naglici raztresem malo sladkorja še po krožničku, ker se je Miklavžu vendarle mudilo, ko nas je slišal na stopnišču ...
In sem nagrajena z neskončnim veseljem, leskom v velikih očeh, ki se čudijo kako je vendar to mogoče, da nismo opazili polne košare dobrot v njuni sobi ... "Mami, to je čudež!"

Ja, res je. Vidva sta. Največji in najlepši. Na televiziji pa gospa Milena Koren Božiček.