Tomorrow is All Saint's Day, the day we remember our dearly departed, those who left this world to travel before us to the next. I remember my father, my grandparents, my aunties, Bill, Renata and Ante and other friends and family. I believe that although they are not here with me physically, they are embedded in my heart and soul and as such, are not really dead. In fact, they're immortal and will never die, at least for as long as I am alive. Then they and I will pass onto my children, my nieces, my cousins, my friends and the circle of life will go on.
Looking through my books of poetry, I came across this lovely poem by Stephen Spender and dedicate it to all those who left this world before us. Perhaps our own dearly departed were not truly great to the general population, but they were truly great to us personally. I have to admit that I especially like the second stanza. May we never allow gradually the traffic to smother with noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.
I Think Continually Of Those Who Were Truly Great Stephen Spender
I think continually of those who were truly great. Who, from the womb, remembered the soul's history Through corridors of light where the hours are suns Endless and singing. Whose lovely ambition Was that their lips, still touched with fire, Should tell of the Spirit clothed from head to foot in song. And who hoarded from the Spring branches The desires falling across their bodies like blossoms.
What is precious is never to forget The essential delight of the blood drawn from ageless springs Breaking through rocks in worlds before our earth. Never to deny its pleasure in the morning simple light Nor its grave evening demand for love. Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.
Near the snow, near the sun, in the highest fields See how these names are feted by the waving grass And by the streamers of white cloud And whispers of wind in the listening sky. The names of those who in their lives fought for life Who wore at their hearts the fire's center. Born of the sun they traveled a short while towards the sun, And left the vivid air signed with their honor.
After my little walk down memory lane and rendezvous with my niece yesterday, I quickly popped into my favourite book shop, Algoritam, before French class to see if I would find anything that tickled my fancy. Now, this was a really stupid idea because something always tickles my fancy in that God damn book shop. It's either the latest cooking magazine or cook book or the biography of a favourite performer or artist or some poetry book or some origami paper or whatever. I always happen to come across something that has "Knitting Songbird, you just have to have this" written on it in large black print. And of course, I invariably give in and have it. Which is why I will never have enough money for a down payment on a house or apartment...
During my little saunter through the store yesterday, I turned the pages of a number of books and then, there it was, a book with a huge label on it, bigger than the rest of them. "Knitting Songbird, you reeeeally have to have this". So I gave in and now have it. Seinlanguage by Jerry Seinfeld.
Now, Seinfeld is a guy that you either love or hate. There's no middle ground. I happen to be on the I adore him side of the fence. To me, he's one of the best observational comedians around, up there with the greats like Bill Cosby, Billy Connolly, Dave Allen, Jay Leno, etc. Although I am not prone to watching television (don't have enough time and it can often be a real brain-drain), I watch Seinfeld religiously and am considering buying the complete series on DVD so I can always have them on hand in times of crises.
So I thought I would share a few quotes from the book with ya for a bit of a laugh. And BTW, a little piece of advice - don't read funny books lying down. While reading the book before taking a bit of a nap today (yeah, the headache persists...), I almost did a Jimi Hendrix and choked on my own spit laughing...so read this sitting up, that is, if you're into Seinfeld...
On the male code: A man is paralysed mentally by a beautiful woman, and advertisers really take advantage of this. Don't you love those ads where you see the woman in the bikini next to the 32-piece ratchet set? And we'll be looking at the girl in the bikini, then looking at the ratchet set, going, "All right, well if she's right next to the ratchet set, and I had that...I better just buy the ratchet set."
On phones and the phone machine: I love my phone machine. I wish I was a phone machine. I wish if I saw somebody on the street I didn't want to talk to I could just go, "Excuse me, I'm not here right now. If you just leave a message, I can walk away." I also have a cordless phone, but I don't like that much. Because you can't slam down a cordless phone. You get mad at somebody on a real phone, "You can't talk to me like that!" BANG, it's over. But a cordless phone - "You can't talk to me like that! All right now, let me just find that little thing to turn this off...Just hang on, I'm hanging up on you!"
On parking: The handicap parking spot is the mirage of the parking desert. You know the feeling. You see it in the distance, there it is. You can't believe your eyes, "It's too good to be true. A big, wide spot, and it's right by the entrance. Somehow everybody missed it." And then when you pull up, wait - it wasn't even there. There's nothing. It's like you were hallucinating. "I, I thought there was a spot there. I, I don't know what happened...I-" What is the handicap parking situation at the Special Olympics? They must have to just stack like a hundred cars into those two spots. How else can they do it?
On buying clothes: Buying closthes is always tricky. But when there's loud music playing, it really throws your judgment. You look at stuff like, "Hey, if there was a cool party and I was a cool guy, this might be a cool shirt." You get it home, there's no music, there's no party, and you're not a cool guy. You're the same chump, 75 bucks lighter.
On cooking shows: I will never understand why they cook on TV. I can't smell it. Can't eat it. Can't taste it. The end of the show they hold it up to the camera, "Well, here it is. You can't have any. Thanks for watching. Goodbye."
On sex: Seems to me the basic conflict between men and women, sexually, is that men are like firemen. To us, sex is an emergency, and no matter what we're doing we can be ready in two minutes. Women, on the other hand, are like fire. They're very exciting, but the conditions have to be exactly right for it to occur.
On the office: Frankly, I don't believe people think of their office as a workplace anyway. I think they think of it as a stationery store with Danish. You want to get your pastry, your envelopes, your supplies, your toilet paper, six cups of coffee, and you go home.
I'll leave you with someone's version of the 10 best moments of Seinfeld ever. Personally, the Soup Nazi episode is my fave ever. Have fun!
I again woke up this morning with the most excruciating headache. I've actually had a "morning" headache every day since Saturday. I have since realised that it's probably due to the south wind. The God damn south wind. Unlike the icy north wind, the fierce east wind or the stormy west wind, the south wind lulls us to the land of Wynken, Blynken and Nod. However, reality invariably gives us a wake up call. And it's this tug-of-war between slumber and wakefulness that wreaks havoc with my head. So, yet again, it was pulsing to the beat of good ol' Stravinsky...
So I was glad that today was Wednesday. Wednesday. My day. My day of freedom. To do what I wanna do and be who I wanna be. Yeah. So I left the house just after 5 and hopped on a tram to the city, knitting in hand and knapsack on back.
I was meeting my niece at the Kras chocolate cafe but arrived half an hour earlier than we had agreed on. So I thought, what the hell, I'll go for a walk to Gornji Grad or the Upper Town, Zagreb's historical centre of sorts. Hadn't been there in a while and it's my absolute favourite part of Zagreb. (If you want to find out more, here's something from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gradec,_Zagreb)
So with my iPod switched on and earphones blaring Eva Cassidy, I made the rather steep hike up cobble stoned Radic street, turned at Kamenita Vrata or the Stone Gate with its shrine consecrated to the Virgin Mary, where many a humble pilgrim has whispered their secret desire to Our Lady, me included, went up towards the parliament building where politicians stood in their three-piece suits, BlackBerrys in hand, waiting for their chauffeurs and BMWs to whisk them off to God knows where, onto Strossmayer promenade, also known as lover's lane, where the chestnut trees and wooden benches have witnessed many an adolescent first kiss. I then went to the lookout gazing at the rooftops and (thankfully few) skyscrapers, wondering what everyone was doing at this moment in time, a bit like Amelie but not quite...
Now, I don't know if it's this God damn south wind or autumn or a mid-life crisis or whatnot, but yet again, walking around the Upper Town, looking at the chestnut trees losing their leaves and the wooden benches bedecked with young lovers, reminded me of a time that has long past, an age of innocence, where I too had a first kiss with a special someone who has since become a complete foreigner to me and barely asks me the time of day. And although I would never want to go back to that time, I would like to put a little of that old black magic that I once had in a jar so I can release the slightest whiff of it every so often and feel it again, even if for a moment. Might make the headaches go away too...
I'll leave ya with a lady who could weave that old black magic - Lady Ella:
A dear friend recently confided to me recently that she had love problems and whether I had any advice for her. My first reaction was, who am I to give anyone advice? I mean, I've only had a handful of serious relationships in my life, either because I was too shy and never told the guy how I felt or he was too shy and never told me how he felt or if he was bold enough and told me how he felt, I didn't feel the same way. So who am I to tell another person what to do? But I thought, I really wanna help this person, she's a really good person and deserves better. And then I took me mate Ross' lead and thought, why not write a post about it? He wrote a great post about controlling diabetes which was helpful advice to anyone, not just diabetes sufferers. Maybe someone else out there may find this post helpful, too, who knows? As he says, blogs are powerful stuff. So here goes...
..but before I start, like I said, I'm no bloody expert on these matters, far from it. This is really my gutt talking, how I personally feel about the whole situation, things I've derived from my own life experiences, other people's, books, my therapeutic singing classes and the like. Take it all with a good pinch of salt. They're not in any particular order, just me babbling...which reminds me, I promise to try not to babble on too much, which I am prone to do, being the granny that I am...
I love me, I love me not
Before you can have a successful relationship with someone else, you have to have a successful relationship with yourself. You have to feel good about yourself, feel at ease with yourself, love yourself, feel that you deserve a loving relationship. And then magically, others will feel the same. Humans are quite instinctive creatures, it's just that in this mechanical age, we've lost most of our instincts and given them up to logic. But there's still a little insticnt left in all of us (just ask our sympathetic nerves!), so what you feel on the inside, others will also sense and give what you feel about yourself right back to you. How to acheive this? There's no simple answer to that question. I know that personally, as I have been trying to give up the materialistic and be closer to nature, I feel better about myself. How to acheive it will be different for each individual.
Analyse this
When a person has had a string of bad relationships, they should sit down and ask themselves, "what went wrong?" and analyse the situation. Why do you choose the people you choose? See what similar "bad" traits were in the people you had relationships with and perhaps try to avoid having relationships with people with these traits in future. I'm currently reading a wonderful book called "the Tao of Equus" about therapy with horses (which I'll do a separate post or two about 'cause it's just great). In it is a story about a woman who had a string of bad relationships. When she was talking about her present bad relationship while grooming a horse, the horse started to get the jitters and bucked. Even though the woman hadn't picked up on it, her body was actually sending out "jittery", fight or flight messages, despite the fact that she was talking about saving the relationship with the guy. The message here is - trust your instincts and try avoiding people with bad traits you've gleaned from the past.
Shout to the top
I'm gonna let the author of one of my favourite books "The hidden messages in water" do the talking on this one: No matter what your intentions, announcing them is an important step. I can say this with confidence based on many years of experience in business. From the time when I was a child, I was always telling people what I was thinking and what I wanted to do, and I was constantly being told that I talked too much. But the simple act of saying something is a way to gather energy towards you. Especially when you say something to other people, energy flows in your direction and helps you achieve your aims. If you express your intentions, the realisation of those intentions will follow. The message being - tell the universe that you want a loving, successful relationship and the universe will do its best to send one your way.
Picture this
Now, a lot of you may laugh at what I'm about to say but...sometimes it's a good idea to actually visualise the thing you want, be it a new career or a new relationship. This is something that I've learnt at my therapeutic singing classes - you imagine the note is being sung by someone else, goes to your throat and then leaves through your chest, like you're not singing at all. Try to sit down, close your eyes and visualise your goal. It's really just a visual instead of vocal way of telling the universe what you want.
Birds of a feather...
...well, you know the rest. I have to say that I've made a lot of wonderful friendships at my choir and French classes. And if I had wanted to, something even deeper. Want to learn a new language? Learn how to do the foxtrot? Play the guitar? Go out and do it and who knows what happens? Besides learning something new and "working" on yourself, you may just meet a bird of a feather.
A bird in the hand...
...again, you know the rest. Sometimes we overlook the people in our inner circle and don't realise what wonderful relationships are looking at us right in the nose. A work colleague, a friend, a friend of a friend, a friend's brother or sister...these are people that know us pretty well and who we know pretty well too. Why not give them a chance? Who knows what a wonderful relationship awaits just around the corner - or cubicle.
Tell him that the sun and moon rise in his eyes
That's what Celine Dion says and who am I to disagree with her? And I can tell ya, this is definitely a mistake that I have made in the past. How I wish I had told certain guys how I felt about them. I think that when we're young, we're too shy or too chicken to tell the other person how we truly feel about them (that's how I was anyway). But then you get to a certain age (like me now) and think, it's now or never, we might never get this chance again, fuck it, let's do it. So if you do have feelings for someone, let them know. You might get a pleasant surprise. And if you don't, it's not the end of the world, believe me.
Come fly with me
I think that a change of scene and atmosphere is a wonderful way to forget the past, work on yourself, have new experiences and meet new people. So take a trip somewhere nice with a friend or by yourself and discover a whole new world. My recommendation is - Paris. Nowhere have men tried to "pick me up", big butt and all, as in Paris. Guess it must be the bold French spirit. And even if you don't take up any offers, a little flattery never did anyone any harm.
I don't know if this advice has or will help anyone. Even if it doesn't, I hope from the bottom of my heart that a loving, caring, successful relationship comes your way - ok universe, you heard it here - because everyone deserves it.
I'll leave ya with a lovely song by my favourite singer of all time, Eva Cassidy - True Colours. Let your true colours shine, dear friend, because they are beautiful like a rainbow and I know that there is someone out there who will appreciate them.
I'm feeling a bit lazy today. Nah, I'm lying. I gave the kids a bath and put them to bed about an hour ago, just put out the rubbish, am in the process of making bread (it's still rising at the moment), just finishing making creme brulee (I'm gonna take it out of the oven as soon as I finish this post), prepared tomorrow's lunch (honey chicken wings with fried rice) and am waiting for a load of washing to finish so I can put it up. So I don't think I could call what I'm feeling lazy. Beat would be a better description. I try to fit in about 20 minutes of nap time or siesta during the day, but just didn't have the time today. Like many days before. But what can you do? As el diablo would say, nada, hasta la vista, baybee.
But I couldn't leave my little legion of readers high and dry, now could I? Love ya all too much for that. So I'll post a song for y'all. I've said on a number occasions to various friends that if I were a man and could sing like anyone I wanted, I'd choose to sing like Freddie Mercury. Love the guy. Adore him. Frankie's my number one guy but if I could sing like anyone it would have to be Freddie. Freddie basically kicks ass. There's no middle road with him, no half ways, it's either all the way or no way. The emotion he exhudes may be a bit too much for some, a bit OTT, often crass, but not for me. I've said in previous posts that I just don't go for singers who don't give at least 100% to their singing. Freddie gave 500%.
So as an ode to all the God damn housework I do on a daily basis, here's one of Freddie's and Dave's finest, "Under pressure", 'cause that's exactly how I feel about it all sometimes :
I had the most horrid headache this morning, as I do most days, but thankfully not all mornings. They usually happen late in the afternoon when I'm so worn out by the day's activities that I need to just lie down a bit, for twenty minutes or so, and get my thoughts together in a noise-free atmosphere. But today I woke up with one, which is one of the most excruciating feelings the world. Took a Panadol, but to no avail. Didn't help a bit, my head just kept right on throbbing to the beat of Stravinsky's "Sacrificial Dance" from his "Rite of Spring". So I told hubby to pack up the kids and let's all go to Maksimir Park and the zoo. So we did. And boy, did it do the trick.
Just looking at the trees turning shades of red, gold, brown and a myriad of other colours, with their foliage falling slowly, silently through the air onto the ground and into the lake like flakes of snow, and the ducks and swans witnesses to it all, put my soul, and my head, at rest. It was as if I had become one with Mother Nature for a moment, and she sent me a message that she felt at one with me too when she delivered a falling leaf right into my hand.
Here are a few photos of Maksimir Park that I took today:
Looking at the marvel of it all made me think about my life. You know, whether I like it or not, I'm not young anymore, I'm way past 30 which is the point that I consider to be the "end" of youth. I'm not old either. I can't really define old, I'll let you know when I feel it. I guess you could call the point I am at at the moment as in between. Not in the spring of my life, that's for sure. I'm not sure whether summer's up but if it isn't, it is definitely late summer. Perhaps this is the autumn of my life, my chance to really glow like the leaves, fervent and ablaze with colour. Because honestly, although I am still prone to bouts of depression here and there, I have never really felt better about myself. I don't care that I haven't had a haircut since Christmas, that my butt looks like the back of a bus, that I don't dress hip and trendy. I've finally come to realise that really, it doesn't matter one iota in the grand scheme of things. Not one, God damn iota. Like my little prince said, "What is essential is invisible to the eyes". It's what's on the inside that counts in the grand scheme of things.
I recently bought myself a book of poetry. It was on sale so I thought, oh, what the hell. It's simply called "Penguin's Poems for Life". Appropriate, as it takes the reader from the cradle to the grave. And while reading it, I came across a poignant poem that really defines this moment that I feel that I'm at, this autumn of sorts. It was written by Alison Fell and it's called "Pushing forty":
Just before winter we see the trees show their true colours: the mad yellow of chestnuts two maples like blood sisters the orange beech braver than lipstick
Pushing forty, we vow that when the time comes rahter than wither ladylike and white we will henna our hair like Colette, we too will be gold and red and go out in a last wild blaze
Now I'll leave ya with my 3rd favourite autumn song (the 1st being "Les Feuilles Mortes", bien sur, the 2nd being "September Song", but I'll leave that one for another post. Can't stick a Kurt Weill song just any old place, on the side, by the way. Deserves a bit more space than that...), sung by Ol' Blue Eyes, the Chairman of the Board himself, Mr. Frank Sinatra. Enjoy...
I am speechless, overtaken with grief, remorse, anger, total rage. The mob have struck the streets of Zagreb again, this time taking out the editor of the Croatian magazine "Nacional".
We hear your message, mob bosses, we hear it loud and clear. But we, the people, are gonna overcome, not you guys, God damn you all!
A couple of weeks ago, I did what I had previously thought was the unthinkable and got me an account on Facebook. Unthinkable because I had thought it was all a load of bullocks. I mean, Jesus, what's the point of it all? It's such a fad, ain't it? And I God damn hate fads (at least, now I do!)
It all started out innocently enough. I wanted to see what some old friends, family members and colleagues look like nowadays but to no avail - you had to be a member of the club to do that, no gatecrashers allowed. So I said, what the hell, let's do it, let's get on the Facebook and watch what happens. And I did.
Had to type me contact info first - easy enough. Post a picture if I wanted to - used me knitting songbird pony, of course, until Davor was kind enough to send a photo from France of me. Do a profile if I wanted to - copy-pasted me blog profile. Agree to something or other - donating a kidney perhaps? And then the search began.
First they recommended people that I probably knew, mainly people from "the firm". So I got me a few friends quick smart. Then I looked for me mates from the here and now. A few more friends to the list. Then I started searching for people I hadn't heard from in a bit, a couple of years or so. And got me even more friends.
But then I dug deeper and looked up people that I hadn't seen in ages, donkey's years. People from primary and high school, people I hadn't heard from in (I'm ashamed to say it) 20 or so years. We're talking a lifetime ago. These are people that I shared school benches, sandwiches, dreams and teenage angst with. These are people that I talked to about the latest fads and pop star crushes, danced with at school discos (who can forget those???), had my first stiff drink with behind me mum's back, discovered Shakespeare, Austen and all the rest of the greats with, drew on their shirts on the last day of school. And we hadn't heard from eachother in 20-odd years.
When I saw all those faces staring at me, the emotions were quite overwhelming, and oddly confusing. Feelings of joy at being able to see them in the here and now, seeing where they had come and all that they had acheived both personally and professionally, sadness that it had taken us this long to get together, albeit, "virtually", and for all the people I would never find on Facebook like Renata who died in '88 in a car crash or Ante who died just over 3 year ago to cancer, regret for times past, for things I have done and haven't done.
And then I asked myself, Knitting Songbird, if you could, would you go back? Would you sit in your little time machine and take a ride to say '83 to the first year of high school? Would you do it all again? And honestly, I wouldn't. There are some things I regret, people I miss, situations I would change. But like Richard Bach put it "There are no mistakes. The events we bring upon ourselves, no matter how unpleasant, are necessary in order to learn what we need to learn; whatever steps we take, they're necessary to reach the places we've chosen to go."
And that's it in a nutshell. We learn from the past and life is an ever changing evolution. We know where the beginning is but keep developing right up until the end, which we don't know where lies. And it's all the people and the experiences we have with them that make us us, that mould us into the people we are and become, for better or worse.
I thank God for all the people in my life, both past, present and future. I love you all. To all of you, I dedicate this sonnet by Shakespeare, no. 30 to be exact.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
I did the strangest thing today. Well, strange is perhaps not the right word, rather, out of the ordinary. See, today I sat down and played the piano. That's something I haven't done since I don't know when. I've been using the piano lately just to play a chord so I know which key to sing in. But hubby took our big boy to his therapeutic art classes and I asked him to take the rest of the gang with him so I could have an hour or two of peace and quiet. So I sang for about an hour. And when I finished, I thought, gees, I haven't played the ebony and ivory in a while. So I sat down and started tinkling a bit. Then I took out my favourite music books from uni, "The Thirties" and "The Forties" and started playing a bit of Gershwin, Rodgers & Hart and then Cole Porter. And then I played it (rather badly, mind you), one of my favourite Cole Porter songs ever. "Every time we say goodbye".
What a great friggin' song, man. It was written by Porter in 1946 and hasn't lost any of its charm since, as have none of the other songs from that era and before. From Ella Fitzgerald to Ray Charles to Annie Lennox to (I found out today) Robbie Williams, it seems that everyone has their version of the song. And I've gotta admit, I'd like to do a version of it too with my Julie Andrews-ish voice. But I would do it with what I like to call the "recitative" at the beginning which it seems no one does. This is how it goes with the recitative at the beginning: We love each other so deeply That I ask you this, sweetheart Why should we quarrel ever Why can't we be enough clever, never to part
Ev'ry time we say goodbye I die a little Ev'ry time we say goodbye I wonder why a little Why the gods above me Who must be in the know Think so little of me They allow you to go When you're near there's such an air Of spring about it I can hear the larks somewhere Begin to sing about it There's no love song finer But how strange the change from major to minor Ev'ry time we say goodbye
And the song rings so true. Don't we all die a little when we say goodbye to someone we love? Don't we ask the Gods, but why, why does it have to be so? I can tell ya, I do. But maybe that's just me being the soppy romantic I am...
Personally, my absolute favourite part of the song is when Porter literally goes from a major to minor key in the words "There's no love song finer, but how strange the change from major to minor, every time we say goodbye". He's doing a bit of a Gerswhin here, but it's nonetheless an absolutely, bloody brilliant little musical twist.
And here's my favourite version of the song sung by someone I consider to be the absolute best pop singer of the mid-eighties, one of the few female singers of the era who had some grey matter between her ears - Annie Lennox. Enjoy!
I was walking around the city today like I usually do on a Wednesday evening before French lessons. And I have to say, it's a time I love. Just roaming around the city by myself for an hour or so, soaking in the sights, turning the page or two of a couple of books in Algoritam, my favourite book store in Zagreb, having a cup of coffee at my favourite cafe, the Kras chocolate cafe, sitting in Zrinjevac, Zagreb's central park, reading a chapter or two of a book that I'm currently reading. It's one of those rare times during the week when I'm alone with only me, myself and I for company.
While I was walking around tonight I stumbled upon a group of street performers dressed in sailor suits, juggling skittles of fire. Now, they weren't the only street performers in the vicinity (seems there's some sort of street fest or whatnot going on) but the crowd around them was the biggest. And I wondered why. Surely it wasn't the sailor suits that had drawn them (although, I have to admit, it was what had drawn me. I mean, come on, which girl can resist three good looking guys dressed in sailor suits a la Gene Kelly and Frank Sinatra in "On the town"???). Nah, it wasn't the sailor suits. It was the fire.
And that got me thinking: what is it with man's fascination with fire? I mean, first of all, think of all the proverbs that involve fire: the title of this post for a start, "where there's smoke, there's fire" or "fire is a good servant but a bad master" or "fight fire with fire" or my favourite "love is a friendship on fire". Then there are all the songs written about fire: the rock classic "Smoke on the water" by Deep Purple or "Fire Woman" by The Cult or my absolute favourite fire song of all time by one of my favourite bands ever "Light my fire" by The Doors. And that's just to name a few! And then all those stories and legends about fire. Who could forget LOTR and the ever flaming Mount Doom? Or the fire breathing dragons of lore? Or the phoenix rising out of the ashes? Or the ultimate fire, il falò delle vanità or the bonfire of the vanities that took place in Florence in the 15th Century where any objects deemed "sinful" were put on a huge bonfire and burnt to a cinder?
Her's what I found on the net regarding the symbolism of fire:
If there ever was a dichotomous element it would be Fire. Fire, the bringer of destruction, the symbolism of chaos and war. Fire burns everything, bringing nothing but ruin. And yet, Prometheus risked the wrath of the Titans to bring fire to man. Fire banishes the darkness. Fire cleanses and purifies. Lastly, sometimes Love is spoken of as an eternal flame. Fire.
Fire can be shown as an agent of destruction. Everyone can imagine the scene where the heroine looks down and the town is awash in flames. Fire is also usually used for strong emotional feelings (such as love, hate, desire, and determination). Fire can also be used to express determination or a strong desire as well.
Characters and things that are shown to have a 'fire-esq' quality to them usually have a red-colored theme to them. Red because flames and coals have a red coloration to them. They are also more likely to be violent (in this case violent meaning extreme and chaotic) in their response and more likely to rush into a situation without completely thinking the consequences through. For example, Hino Rei / Sailor Mars (from Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon) is Fire personified, but she is hardly evil, nor does she have evil intents. She is strong-willed, hot-tempered, and incredibly determined and independent, that's all.
Yeah, dichotomous, good way to describe fire. I remember when I was a kid and my dad used to burn the rubbish in the backyard (hey, this was the era before environmental awareness!) and I couldn't get away from the fire, it completely mesmerised me. Watching those dancing flames, I felt as if nothing else existed. It was just me and the fire. The fire melted everything away. But I always remembered not to get tooooo close...
Another thing I remember as a kid was learning that man's two greatest inventions were the wheel and fire. I'm not so sure about that. Not the part that they were the greatest inventions, but that they were invented by man. I mean, how can something as powerful as fire have been invented by man? That's a load of bull, another "logical" explanation for an inexplicable feat of nature. Fire wasn't invented by man, it was invented by the Big Boss, by Mother Nature. It's interesting to note that you need three elements to make fire: oxygen, heat and fuel. Leave one of these out and you've got nothing. Three is a pretty powerful number when you think about it. Plato split the soul into three parts. Freud said the psyche was divided into three. Christians learn of the Holy Trinity and that Jesus rose from the dead after the third day. You've got three levels of schooling. In music, you've got the triad, the basis of all chords. There are three types of galaxies. The list goes on...
Hmmm, fire...there's more to it than meets the eye...I'll leave you with a man that lilghts my fire...
That's what Brillat-Savarin said. Clever fella he was, knew what he was talking about.
And that reminds me. I got my edition of CVF or Cuisine et vins de France a few days ago, something that I wait for with baited breath every month or so in my letterbox. This month's edition was about bistro desserts, 15 classic bistro desserts to be exact. And I can tell ya - no discovery of any bloody star could make this knitting songbird happier than the recipes I discovered, or should I say, rediscovered in this issue. Par exemple: tarte tatin, that wonderful upside down apple concoction that the Tatin sisters discovered by accident and put them on the gastronomic map forever, creme brulee or "burnt" cream, THE dessert of all French desserts with its brittle caramel top and smooth vanilla bottom, gâteau moelleux au chocolat or soft chocolate cake where the creamy chocolate centre literally melts in your mouth, pain perdu au chocolat or French toast with chocolate, the simplest but not least tasty of all French desserts and crepes Suzettes, another delicious dish discovered by accident by a young assistant waiter cooking for the Prince of Wales and his companion whose first name was Suzette. Suffice to say, I have been poring over the issue since I got it and haven't been able to put it down.
I gave the creme brulee (in the top 5 of desserts for me) a try the same day, I just had to, love it too much. And it turned out magnifique, if I can say so myself. It even made me go out and buy a bloody creme brulee blow torch (finally, I might add)! Pity that when I made it for Davor a few weeks ago it turned out really crappy - and that's an understatement. The eggs curdled ('cause the gas ran out and I had to cook it on the electric burner), it was a watery mess and the sugar didn't caramelise ('cause I didn't have the bloody blow torch!). In short, un desastre - sorry 'bout that Davor! But that always happens when you cook for someone else, at least to me - you make that extra effort and what happens? Un desastre. Next time it'll be better Davor, promise! Got gas and got the blow torch now!
Here's the recipe for y'all, if ya wanna give it a try. It really is dead easy, foolproof (even if you're under pressure making it for someone else!) and it tastes just delish:
Creme brulee
5 egg yolks 2 vanilla beans 250 ml full cream milk 80 g icing sugar 250 ml cream 100g brown sugar
Preheat the oven to 120 degrees C.
Split the vanilla beans open, scrape the seeds and place into a saucepan along with the beans. Pour in the milk, slowly bring to the boil then remove from the heat and let steep 10 minutes. While the milk is stepping, put the egg yolks in a mixing bowl and mix with the cream and sugar until well incorporated. Mix the egg mixture with the milk mixture (remove the vanilla beans). Pour the mixture evenly into 6 ramekins and place on a large oven tray. Pour some water into the oven tray so that it comes to 1 cm to the sides of the ramekins. Bake for 1h/1h 15 min or until the cream is slightly "wobbly".
Let the cream cool and chill in the fridge for at least 2 hours. Once well chilled, put a couple of spoons of sugar on the top of each and "burn" with a blow torch until the sugar is caramelised. Serve at once.
Bon appetit!
And here are a few more quotes from the gastronome of all gastronomes that you might like:
"A dessert without cheese is like a beautiful woman with only one eye." (Ain't that the truth! I sometimes eat just cheese and bread as a meal in itself!)
"Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are." (Aha. That's why I don't eat at McDonald's anymore, I can tell ya)
"Drinking Bordeaux you think about, drinking Burgunder you talk about and drinking champagne you do foolish things." (Just ask Davor and I - we just had two glasses in Paris on our last night there, Veuve Cliquot of course, and talked the worst French you could ever hear in your life for the space of two hours!)
"The destiny of nations depends upon the manner in which they feed themselves." (hmmm, interesting one that...maybe that's why most of the Western world is obese these days, eh?)
I don't know, but I've been feeling a bit down lately. To be honest, I've been feeling a bit down for a while now. I don't know if it's me or the weather or the global situation, but I can't seem to get out of this funk I've been in. To tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, I've been missing a bit of romance in my life, and that's why I'm in this funk. This is how I've been feeling:
A fine romance, with no kisses A fine romance, my friend this is We should be like a couple of hot tomatoes But you're as cold as yesterday's mashed potatoes A fine romance, you won't nestle A fine romance, you won't wrestle I might as well play bridge With my old maid aunt I haven't got a chance This is a fine romance
A fine romance, my good fellow You take romance, I'll take jello You're calmer than the seals In the arctic ocean At least they flap their fins To express emotion A fine romance with no quarrels With no insults and all morals I've never mussed the crease In your blue serge pants I never get the chance This is a fine romance
See, I'm the kinda gal who cries at the end of "Pretty Woman", "Love Story", "An Affair to Remember" and all the rest of those soppy movies. I cry when I hear that a friend's going through a hard breakup. I cry when I listen to "Ne me quitte pas" or "La chanson des vieux amants" or "Cry me a river" or other emotionally charged songs. I'll admit it - I'm a romantic sissy, sop, baby.
I remember the first time a boy held my hand (Canterbury Football Field, 1983, Anthony Michael) and my first "real" kiss (Johnny Vrkic's car, 1988). I remember the first time I set eyes on hubby (coming off the Croatia Airlines bus in front of the then Intercontintental Hotel, 1992) and all the rest of it.
And I miss those thrills. You know, when your heart starts racing, your pupils dilate, your hands get all sweaty, you feel a bit dizzy by it all. Then he reaches out to kiss you and the endorphins set in and you feel as though you'd just taken a dose of the world's most exquisite opiate. I miss all that. I miss someone reaching out to hold my hand, brushing his hands through my hair, taking me out to dinner and a movie, playing a nice song on the guitar for me. Miss it all. I can't tell a lie.
Maybe I'm just asking for too much. I mean, honestly, how can you keep a romance alive with 3 kids, a rabbit, 2 turtles, a myriad of washing, cleaning and cooking, a high pressure job which requires umpteen hours in front of the computer in the wee small hours and just over 12 years of marriage behind ya? No bloody way.
But I'll try to keep a positive about it all...at least I've got my blog to keep me warm...
I bought the newspaper today. Now, this might not be anything out of the ordinary for most people, but it is for me. See, I rarely buy the newspaper. To be honest, never. I'd rather watch the news on the telly or read about it on the net, too lazy to read in Croatian really. But yesterday's events compelled me to go out and buy a newspaper. The events that happened yesterday belong more on the streets of Palermo or in a Scorcese film, not in Zagreb.
To cut a long story short, the daughter of a "mob" lawyer was slain down execution style, three bullets to the head, neck and shoulder. The young lady in question was 26 years old and a lawyer, just like her pop. Pop is in the process of defending an ex-General who is said to have stolen about $5 million worth of diamonds from the government during the Croatian war (he was meant to buy arms with it but bought fur coats for his wife instead). The ex-General has strong underground connections and, at one point, his children were kidnapped by a major mob boss 'cause he knew too much. Seems that the same mob boss is suspected of ordering this hit. The irony in the whole story? The girl was seeing the mob boss' lawyer. Sounds like the plot of a Scorsese film...
I don't know why, but this murder really shook me up. Big time. Besides the fact that she was young, beautiful, successful, in the prime of life, there was something else. I've seen and heard of many murders and attrocities in my time - from stories of WWII from my folks to the war in Croatia and Bosnia & Herzegovina that I witnessed myself to the stuff going on around us everyday worldwide - but this was something different from your average murder or attrocity, especially for post-war Zagreb. It's an unwritten rule in the Balkan mafia that you don't touch la famiglia. Even in Belgrade, where the mobsters are as loathesome and ruthless as they get, they never touch la famiglia. If you've done them wrong, they'll hit you off, simple as that. This murder has set a precedent and the Croatian mafia is sending a new message, the message being - nothing is sacred anymore, nothing is untouchable.
And that's the thing that really shook me. Even if a person doesn't have kids, everyone has a family - mum, dad, bro, sis, niece, nephew. So what happens now that the age of innocence has come to an end and you do someone wrong - is it you who takes the bullet or does a member of your family? Just the thought of anyone touching a hair on my family's or friend's head is enough to make me scream. 'Cause nothing means more to me than my family and friends, as I've already said on numerous occasions in this blog. I've always let the kids roam around our suburb to their hearts delight 'cause I've always felt that they were safe, that this wasn't like Sydney where my mum had to come and pick me up at the station after Uni 'cause I was too chicken to walk home by myself when it got dark, this is Zagreb where I can walk home late at night after French lessons without having to look over my shoulder. I'm not so sure now. Hubby says I'm panicking for no reason, we're not in high places, don't have underground connections, who would want to touch us?
Whatever the case may be, underground connections or not, I think that Zagreb has come to a major turning point. Which turn we take is up to the authorities - they can turn a blind eye, as they have up to now, or they can send a new message to the mob, the message being basta! I hope that it's the latter, 'cause I don't wanna live on the Mean Streets...
I know that my friend Ross is gonna read the title of his post and his first reaction is gonna be "Hey! That's the title of my song! And was the title of my blog until 3 or so weeks ago! Why the hell is The Knitting Songbird using it for her blog?!?!" Just before I go into why, let me tell y'all that it's a bloody good song. You can listen to it here: http://www.myspace.com/rossmusician and can take a look at the lyrics here: http://rossmusician.blogspot.com/2008/04/end-of-civilisationist.html
Hope you don't mind me using your song Ross! But I've used it here 'cause, besides it being a bloody good song, it's got a lot to do with what I'm about to write about, sort of goes hand in hand with it you might say. We're at a crossroads in our civilisation and no amount of recycling premium A4 paper's gonna help us...so here's where the story begins...
As you may or may not know, hubby "officially" got his PhD diploma last week even though he's been a PhD for almost 2 years. He's been working at the Forestry Institute for a while now, just over 10 years, and has done a lotof research on many aspects of forestry but his specialty is soil and water science. He also recently became part of an EU task force working on climate change and its effects on various aspects of forestry.
Yesterday night, he came home a bit tipsier than usual, one beer too many you could say. When I asked him what was going on, he told me he has to write a chapter in a book to be published by some fancy publisher on climate change and it's a bit difficult for him. Not because it has to be done in English (although, it is a bit difficult for him to write in English sometimes!) but because of the data and information he has at hand. What frigging data? So he showed me a presentation he gave in Vienna a couple of weeks ago on the current situation regarding Croatian forests and climate change. And, I have to say, I couldn't sleep all night after having seen it.
There are sooo many things that the mainstream media, in Croatia in particular, has been keeping out of the news to make way for supposedly "important" stuff. Stuff like Wall Street, tourism income, the latest gadget, Brittney Spears and a plethora of other insignificant crap. Well, you can put Wall Street and the rest of them where the sun don't shine - Mother Nature has a more important message for us and we better bloody well sit up and listen.
Here are a few pretty scary facts that you don't see in the Croatian news:
2003 was the hottest year in history since 1500 (that's apparently when they started taking climactic measurements). Have a look at the table below table to get a better idea of where we're headed. Anyone who tells me that man has had no influence whatsoever on climate change can go to hell. Just have a look at where the temperature's gone since the industrial revolution...what temperature the mercury's gonna hit in future is anyone's guess:
So the temperature's been going up - what about that thing that comes down, you know, rain? Here's a table to show you exactly what's been happening. Namely, Northern Europe's been swimming in it, while us Southerners have been praying for it:
Okay, the temperature's have been going up, rain hasn't been coming down. But here's a true illustration of what climate change is all about. There were three consecutive years of drought in Croatia since the year 2000. Then there was a major flood the year after. Great, you may say, water, just what we need. But it ain't as great as it sounds. See, in terms of forests, the droughts wiped out a lot of oaks, a tree of major importance in Croatia, which made way for hornbeams as they need less water. Goody, at least there's something left, nothing as important as the oak, but something at least. Well, a year later a flood came and wiped out the hornbeams 'cause they like drier conditions. This is what some of the forests look like now:
And that's the thing - 'cause the climate's gone amuck, we can't really predict what's going to happen in future - is there going to be a drought? Is there going to be a flood? Seems there's more to climate change than CO2 and human influence, things like sunspots, tidal wave movement, meteorite activity Ivan explained. But the problem is he added, is that there's never been this much human influence at any point in history and that's why we don't know what the hell is going to happen, can't predict a bloody thing. But Ivan let me in on a secret in his drunken stupor last night, a secret that not many people know about, something that may give us a bit of a key as to what's gonna happen in future and we'll be able to, if nothing, predict things a bit more accurately. If there is a drought in Croatia in 2010, that means that man's influence outweighs nature's. If not, Mother Nature's mucking round with us as she well should.
My personal theory is that Mother Nature is giving us a message and her message is this - you reap what you sow, man, you reap what you sow. We have to pay for the pillaging, drilling, cutting, asphalting, dumping and all the rest of the crap that we've done to her. That's her frigging message, whether this climate change has more to do with her or us. Problem is, are we listening?
On a happy note, Ivan is quite optimistic about it all. Says that we should be able to adapt, Croatia at least. The population is going to go down 10 or percent in a few years. And apparently, despite the forest dieback I talked about above, there is 10% more forest land in Croatia than there was 15 years ago, due mainly to the war. Basically, people moved away from areas like Slavonia, the bread basket of Croatia, to major cities and as such, arable land has turned back into what it had always been - forests.
And now I'm gonna sign off. I'll leave ya with the folkmeister Pete Seeger and his universal song of peace and love, "Where have all the flowers gone?" Yes, when will we ever learn...
I'm feeling a bit lazy today. Actually, I'm bloody tired and I didn't practise singing which has me in a bit of a crappy mood. Singing is the drug that gets me through the day - without it, I'm a complete wreck. Thank God, my dear friend Davor came over tonight which cheered me up immensely. We had a bit of my crappy cake and coffee and talked the legs off numerous chairs. Thanks for the great time Davor!
I was fiddling round on YouTube yesterday, looking for something I hadn't heard from Lady Ella and came across this. This is such a gem, I couldn't resist posting it. Don't get this sort of stuff anymore - just Ella and Joe Pass' guitar and nothing else. Except brilliance, beauty, emotion, class. No high tech production, no playback. Cried me a river listening to it. Man, I would give numerous appendages to be able to sing like this...
God bless ya Ella, hope you're singing up a storm in the clouds with ol' Satchmo!
I had my 11th hour of driving lessons today. You also could say that I started learning at the 11th hour. A bit old for an absolute beginner, aren't I? I sort of regret that I didn't start learning to drive early on but circumstances prevented me from that. Namely, an accident my mum had with a bus. She was driving me to school in Bankstown and was going round a corner parallel to a bus. Thing is, the bus didn't see me and my mum next to him and "crushed" us going round the corner. On my side. It wasn't anything as major as it sounds, but nonetheless, I sort of lost my appetite for driving from that moment on...and still haven't found it.
I have to admit that, so far, I hate driving. And that's an understatement. Can't think of a stronger word than hate at the moment. Too late in the day. Remember how I talked about how much I love Mondays now that I go to choir? Well, any day I have a driving lesson is a day I loathe. If hubby and the kids see me ranting and raving and storming round the house, listening to AC/DC or Lou Reed full blast, they knows that a driving lesson is looming. There are a few reasons for this. First of all, I'm totally and utterly untalented at it. I'm uncoordinated. I was never good at piano because of it. Dancing too - two left feet I've got. I can't see the "wider picture". Went through a yellow light today, for example, 'cause I looking at how fast I was going. Second of all, drivers in Zagreb are, to put it bluntly, complete and utter bastards. These are people that, for example, honk at foreigners waiting too long at a traffic light. Hey, the guy is from out of town! He doesn't know where the hell he's going! Third of all, I don't really like the idea of getting around in a car. I prefer walking, taking a tram or riding my bike. The world goes by a bit slower, get to take a better look at things, smell the roses if I want. Can't do that driving at 120km/h, can ya? And fourth of all, I don't like the idea that I'm contributing to climate change, increased pollution, spiking oil prices. I'm a drop in the ocean, I know, but lots of drops make an ocean pretty quick when you think about it.
Having said that, I would like to have the added flexibility and freedom that driving offers. No more waiting for Mr. Hubby to take me to Dolac, Zagreb's green market. Oh no. Sit in the car and I'm there in 20 minutes or so. Or choir. Or French lessons. Or coffee with a friend. Or a midnight movie. See, that's a concept I can live with. Do what I wanna do, be what I wanna be, yeaaah.
Well, we'll see how it goes. My instructor doesn't keep me for after driving "lectures" ("you did this, you didn't do that, you shoulda done this, bla, bla, bla") like he does his other pupils - which sometimes keeps me waiting a good 15 minutes for my lessons to start! So that's something positive. But maybe it's because I'm older than him and could lecture him if I wanted...don't know...might drive round to his house and ask him when I get my license...
