I am sorry that my posts have become very irregular, but my little business venture is taking up much more time than I thought it would.
This afternoon, I also had a non-work related appointment to go to. I went to the dentist. For a full week I have tried to ignore the problem, but on Monday it became constant pain and I made an appointment. I hate going to the dentist. Up until a fateful dentist visit fifteen years ago, I was quite brave on dentist chairs, but since then just the thought of surgeon masks and dental instruments makes me nauseous.
The fateful incident took place fifteen years ago at an on-campus dentist practice of a small college in the US. I needed to get a filling, and while the dentist was drilling away he told me about a trip he made to Germany together with his wife. I tried to smile and show my appreciation for the glowing review my home country received. I don’t know if it was my smiling or him getting a little inattentive over all the talking, but suddenly I felt something give way in the tooth he was working on and a fountain of blood gushed out of my tooth onto his glasses, face mask, and coat. The sight of the blood let me nearly faint. Even the dentist looked shocked for a few seconds before he could regain his professional composure.
Since then I have been very careful with my choice of dentists. I have been going to the present one for over ten years. He practices out of a swank office in the business district of Hong Kong and has prices to match. But it’s worth it. First of all, I never had to wait for more than ten minutes. I can’t understand why so many doctor offices don’t schedule their appointments in a professional manner. I have decided long ago that unless it is a life and death situation, I am not going to sit for more than thirty minutes in a waiting room. And most importantly, he doesn’t talk while he works on my teeth. He has “elevator music” playing the whole time and hums while he works away. This time, it was covers of nineteen eighties hits “Wild boys hmmm hm hm hm hm” and “Circle in the sand hmmm hm hm hmmm”. Whatever works for him is fine with me.
The good news is that the pain is gone, the bad news is the rather hefty bill I had to pay at the end. Don’t expect any posts for the next two days, I need to earn some money first.
I love to smile and laugh, who doesn’t? But on some days it’s just a little harder to keep a positive outlook on life, and on those days I am very thankful for people, who brighten my day. All the little things help. Neighbors in the elevator who smile at me and start a little conversation, the owner of my favorite juice shop eating a bun filled with mango and explaining that it is the tastiest thing in the world, children running around and playing happily together. And last but not least, a fellow blogger at the other side of the world telling me that one of my posts inspired him to write one of his own (Thank you, Adam! You made my day!). Half-way through my day, I was smiling again. And maybe the smiling me made a difference to someone I passed by on the street. That thought makes me smile even more. It would be a wonderful outcome for a day that started as morosely as this one :).
When I saw the official group photo of the APEC meeting yesterday, I had to laugh out loud. I don’t know why, but for some reason people in Asian countries are especially fond of dressing up conference participants in garish national dresses, and the APEC meetings are the best. I am looking forward to it every year.
I hate to admit it, but I have worn several of these tacky outfits myself. Real Asian national costumes – worn by people on the street or on special occasions – are very pretty and elegant, but these conference outfits are something else.
This morning, while standing buck naked in front of the mirror, I began thinking about body image, about how it is influenced by the media, and about how many people have problems with accepting and loving their own bodies. It’s rather a sad affair how narrow beauty is defined in the media these days.
My own body doesn’t live up to the media’s standards, not by any means. I am relatively slim, but I enjoy food and my ass shows it. My breasts have seen better days, and the lines around my eyes and on my forehead show that I am a woman, not a girl. Still I love my body, I love to touch it, to show it, to dress it up. I never had any problems running around naked around the house.
When I grew up, no one ever taught me that a naked body is something to be ashamed of, nor that it has to be perfect to be shown. And I am thankful for that, because I think that being content with your own body plays a great part in being a happy person.
The water around her body feels like velvet. Still warm on the surface from the sun that shone all day, but refreshing and cool deeper down. She swims to the middle of the lake, to the deepest spot. Vastness, endlessness below her. The light of the pale, full moon above mirrors around her. One deep breath and her body drops into the cool wetness. Falling, gliding deeper, until she is surrounded by darkness. Icy cold water envelopes her feet, water that has not seen the light of day. Her body tells her to gasp for air, but she sinks lower, drifting into stillness. Her legs begin to kick on their own. With three powerful strokes she is above water again.
A lone figure stands at the edge of the water. She wonders why she brought him here. It’s her secret place. Her place of comfort. Why doesn’t he come into the water, why is he afraid? She is beginning to think that she made a mistake. Her body floats silently on the glassy lake, her eyes staring at the sky. Even the moon seems to want to bathe tonight. She has never seen it that close before.
Suddenly there is a muted splash, and he swims slowly, deliberately towards her.
“You scared me a little.” “Why?” “I couldn’t see you. For a long time.” “I dived under water. It felt very comforting.” “You are like a fish, I couldn’t do that.”
They swim side by side. Suddenly, she glides under water. Like Ophelia, he thinks, with her hair floating around her, small bubbles escaping her mouth. An eternity seems to pass. Her lips draw him in, under water. He wants to kiss her lips, give her the kiss of life, bring her back to him. Their mouths meet. Air travels from his mouth to hers and back. She smiles, grabs him, pulls him to the surface.
“I knew that you would come to me. It’s easy.” “Only when you are around. Everything is easy when you are around.”
Woohoo! I finally ditched Minima Blue and clad Cosima Underwater in a template of her own. The header uses a stylized wave pattern from a book on Japanese garden design, which I scanned, color-tweaked, and added the title to. Lecram altered the edge of the header, fitting it in with the background images (Thank You!). The turquoise and light-blue background images are from a template designed by www.isnaini.com, an Indonesian site with lots of beautiful blogger templates.
I then took a crash course in changing the xml-code of beta blogger templates at Beta Blogger for Dummies and Beautiful Beta. Reading these blogs gave me an idea about the overall structure of beta blogger templates and how to change them to make a unique template of my own. I was surprised, how easy it is.
Please tell me, if the template doesn’t load correctly for you. I will then try to make changes.
Aren’t they amazing? The video shows acoustic guitar legends John McLaughlin and Paco de Lucia playing “Spain” by Chick Corea in Friedburg in 1986. Both are widely regarded as the best guitar players in their fields, jazz-fusion and flamenco respectively, not only because of their technical mastery, but also because they both were instrumental in the development of their musical genres. While John McLaughlin combined jazz with musical influences from around the world, Paco de Lucia revived flamenco by enriching it with influences from jazz, classical, and South American music.
If you like the video, also check out their CD Friday Night in San Francisco, which has them teamed up with Al Di Meola. The live recording of their 1980 concert is truly breathtaking. When listening to their performance, you can hear the joy the three are having in playing together and being influenced in their improvisations by each other.
by Peter Panter aka Kurt Tucholsky (1931) translated by Cosima
Erika is a little bit too tall – she knows it and is very unhappy about it. She is exactly three inches too tall.
How I have tried to ease her worries! To cheer her up, I told her the story of the tall lady in the theatre. People sitting behind her yell: “Sit down! Sit down!”- angrily she stands up to tell them to be quiet. Someone shouts, “Unbelievable, now she even climbs onto her seat!” – doesn’t console her.
Then I told her how another tall lady walked by a garden hedge and asked the gardener on the other side for directions to Adlershof. “You just need to ride straight ahead!” the gardener said. Doesn’t console her either.
But to take a stroll with Erika is a true joy. Not only because she is a nice lady… no. I read in the eyes of all who pass us by, and that’s such a delight.
Myself, I am rather short and fat. God looks at our hearts. Well, and Erika is very slim and tall. And when we walk along the street, people are pleased to see such a stately couple, and I read their eyes.
Men mostly look past us. They don’t have time. When they look up, they chuckle a little, but only a fleeting moment – men are dopes, they don’t know how pleasant schadenfreude can be. And when men are on their own, they think, and that occupies them fully. (And then you have to wait and see what the result will be!)
But women… ! It happens at lightning speed, and I enjoy it immensely. It’s all over their eyes: “Hurrah! A woman inferior to me! She’s too tall! Tobby! Mum! Margot! Did you see her? What a beanstalk!” That’s ugly to say, Erika isn’t a beanstalk, I know better. But she is three inches too tall, that’s a fault, that immediately comes to the attention of passers-by, and I read in their eyes: “She is too tall. Heehee. What wouldn’t I give to see them dance. Does the fat little guy climb onto a ladder to kiss her? Lisa, look at them!” Lisa looks and agrees. It’s just too delicious…! Such a tall woman!
By the way, there are small differences, and it depends on manners. Some show their schadenfreude without restraint: eyes gleam with sparks of sisterly love, blink and wink mockingly, the elbow nudges into the neighbor’s side, and two are united in unspeakable joy: the delight to find fault in others.
Subtler people just quickly glance, almost unnoticeable…, but they judge Erika nevertheless. So we often contribute to the merriment of our fellow human beings.
It is hard to understand why people are so venomous. There is nothing Erika can do about her height. I think she is just right -, I don’t find her too tall. And it’s more than mean to make fun of something she can do nothing about.
We walk and I catch all these looks. A couple approaches us. He is of normal build, and she: so dainty, like a little doll, so small, so infinitely tiny…
I elbow Erika and quickly glance to Miss Liliput. “Erika” I say, “did you see the little woman -? Ridiculous. That’s ridiculous. What does he do, when he wants to kiss her -?”
In the early times of this blog I posted a weekly poem. Mostly German poetry that I translated into English to the best of my ability. If you go to labels on my sidebar and click on “poetry” you can see them all. Translating poetry into another language is a very hard thing to do, sometimes, especially with older poems, it is impossible. Something is always lost in translation. I did it anyway, because there are so many poems that are close to my heart and at least some of them I wanted to share.
Translating these poems also made it easier to understand them and write poetry of my own. I know full well that mine are amateurish, but they helped me to put my feelings into words and see them more clearly. So today’s Da Count is on poetry.
I cried
I.
I cried when your son told me you had died from deep within my heart
The tears surprised me We didn’t start well So much mistrust
Later you told me My son loves you I love you too
When I had A son myself I understood
Like tigresses We fight to protect From whatever harm
II.
I cried From deep within my heart
Why are you crying? Your mali sin asked Because Baba died So call the doctor To make her whole again
I remember Kissing your hands In the hospital You forgave me
Where is she now? In heaven Oh good, then we see Baba When we fly
III.
I cried From deep within my heart
I stand at your grave In merciless sun On stony earth Grey mountains around us
This land has seen So much hardship Yours as well
your father’s empty grave Next to yours Taken away never seen again
IV.
I cried From deep within my heart
I wish I could Believe Like you did Like the ladies in black The priest chanting
But I know That you will live on in my son
In his eyes In his energy In his toughness In his passion
