This is to wish all the people in the world, Muslims and others, a splendid New 1427 Hijri Year. May it bring peace of mind to the people, and may it usher in some light into the the great heart of Mankind.
Archive for January 2006
Islamophobia: the Golden Age of the Grotesque?
In Opinion on January 31, 2006 at 12:30 amThis may sound redundant at first glance, yet the need to clarify a number of things is explicit enough to make this entry come to life. Much has been said of late about some cartoons depicting the Prophet of Islam, Mohammad, in ways that offended the Islamic psyche worldwide.
Prophet Mohammad to Muslims is the guide that ushered light into their lives, by delivering the message of Divinity to peoples of all races and times. Understanding the reverence and respect Muslims have for their Prophet is essential in untangling this web of reactions. In addition to that, Muslims believe in all God’s messengers, therefore, to them, insulting one messenger means insulting all without exclusion. This leads to a sane deduction that, by transgressing over most Muslims’ sentiments with regards to their Prophet, the cartoons have the same impact as if they were depicting Jesus, or any other God-sent messenger – Jesus cited due to popularity, in offensive situations of your choice. While this may not stir difference in many people’s lives,denial can hardly be in place that it offends the religious.
This view, with what weight it possesses, should not be made light of. The manner in which Muslims and the Denmark or even the EU are reacting to this so-dubbed war of Free Speech vs. Religion, is debatable and arguments about it could go for hours on end. This is not my interest in this entry, you may wish to look elsewhere for this sort of argument.
The story, or the bits of it that have made it to my brain, has it that a Danish newspaper published the caricatures, which was a step that stirred a torrent of reactions by Danish Muslims. Some time later, a Norwegian newspaper published the same, or so I read, cartoons. This time, the torrent grew larger: Muslims around the world pledged to boycott Danish products, governments condemned the sacrilege and retrieved ambassadors, the Danish people -in polls- urged their leaders not to apologize, and just recently the EU took up the matter and made a not-so-subliminal economic threat to all countries who enact the boycott.
The issue at hand, if we are to dissect it, could boil down to a few questions: How far can one go with one’s right of Free Speech?. Rationality is in favor of Free Speech, but does it support it all the way? Are there no red lines that one ought to respect such as, say, the Holocaust, or Prophet Mohammad wearing a bomb-turban?
Stepping on either one of the two “odds” is dangerous. One is bound to get a decent amount of reactions, some wise, and most unwise, if one limits people’s freedom or if one lets it off the leash. I find it most amusing how most current trends, and so-dubbed-liberals-in-their-own-words, and kindly do not mistake this for an attack targeting a certain group of individuals (for any such a notion is a false claim), think it appropriate to mock the outrage that is taking the Muslim awareness by storm, and yet to overlook the simplicity of the situation that the caricatures did, in actual fact, insult someone respected by “some” people who happen to have a lot of family.
This sort of stand is severely insensitive and biased, for a simple and obvious reason, yet one that seems to allude a large number of the “liberals”. Should one claim to be liberal, then one acknowledges the rights of all people to express their differences, and one respects that. One ought not to bash some, those regarded as the retarded glitch in the face of civilization by one’s views, and spare their allegedly more-refined brethren.
If I were to look at matters from a personal point of view, I seem to find it difficult to digest to insult what a loner in Australia believes in. I may not know the person, and I may not be interested in learning much about the culture, but insulting beliefs that I know are thought very highly of is uncalled-for. This sort of conduct strikes me as being absolutely unprovoked and tremendously provocative.
Taken from Nas’ entry on the subject, this is one interesting bit of information.
” Bill Clinton warned of rising anti-Islamic prejudice, comparing it to historic anti-Semitism as he condemned the publishing of cartoons depicting Prophet Mohammed in a Danish newspaper.
So now what are we going to do?
Replace the anti-Semitic prejudice with anti-Islamic prejudice? he said at an economic conference in the Qatari capital of Doha.
In Europe, most of the struggles weve had in the past 50 years have been to fight prejudices against Jews, to fight against anti-Semitism, he said.
Clinton described as appalling the 12 cartoons published in a Danish newspaper in September depicting Prophet Mohammed and causing uproar in the Muslim world.
None of us are totally free of stereotypes about people of different races, different ethnic groups, and different religions
there was this appalling example in northern Europe, in Denmark
these totally outrageous cartoons against Islam, he said.”
On marriage and such
In Opinion on January 30, 2006 at 12:17 amA little statement with enormous impact. This is what Leen, my niece, had to say on her fourth birthday, which corresponded with the date of January 29th, 2006.
“I think I want to marry a man when I grow up, but what am I gonna name him?”.
You see, marriage, too, does not have to be complicated.
Jenin By Suheir Hammad
In Literature on January 29, 2006 at 1:00 pma woman hungry and
dry asks a
stranger with a camera
pointed at her to
put it down
please
help me find my children
it has been five days-Suheir Hammad
Launching United Tololy News
In Bits & pieces on January 28, 2006 at 8:24 pmI resolved to launch a new blog under the title United Tololy News. A step I thought I would not undertake, yet need spoke louder than any decisions.
United Tololy News is authored by my evil twin, and it is, in a nutshell, ” A new sort of media”, as opposed to Tololy’s Box which adhers to rationality most of the time.
Undying Corset: The Art
In Body Art on January 28, 2006 at 12:10 amScrolling further down may expose some people to a shocking image. Do not scroll down unless you have a virtually high level of pain tolerance. If seeing extreme piercings offends, or appals you, kindly take care not to check the image at the tail of this post. My conscience is clear, do not sue.
Body Art is a fascinating play over the human body, pushing imagination to the very extremes, and mocking pain. A great deal of patience and effort are the minimum requirements for any person considering, or willing to, undergo any form of bodmod (Body Modification). Piercing, tattooing, scarring, branding, suspension, and many another form of art sum up this fascinating world.
A touching side to the story of, widely, anyone who dares modify their body in unusual ways, is the social labels glued to them by force. The rigid manner in which most social circles receive body modifiers is unwise, but it should be expected, seeing as most people do not agree that this indeed is a form of Art. Tags such as “cries for attention”, or “cult practices”, and verdicts of the genre, could annihilate and overshadow the artistic quality of the body in question.
It may well be true that some body modifiers are expressing a need for attention, or, in other cases, belonging to a certain sect or group. A large number of body modifiers, mainly piercees and tattooed persons, frequent the studios because of a need to “belong” to a group; caused by peer pressure. To judge all as being “utter freakshows” is an error.
Following is a picture of a beautiful piece of Art, with a capital A. This is a Corset Piercing, and the image has been taken from this site. Clipping was necessary, refer to the link for further details and images. This sort of body modification represents the apex of human beauty and patience, a masterpiece.
The know-me meme
In Personal on January 27, 2006 at 12:10 amKhalidah was so nice as to tag me. Here are my answers:
Declare 5 facts about yourself:
1- Butterflies terrify me.
2- I bite my fingers and they usually bleed because of that. Sharp teeth.
3- I do not like Jilbab or Abaya.
4- I love jet black and blood red nail polish.
5- I adore longhaired bad boys, tattoos, piercings, the works.
State 3 things you like in others:
1- Being intelligent enough not to try to change me or convince me of every point they make.
2- Laughing at my old nasty jokes.
3- Saying “Thank you” when the need calls for it.
State 3 things you dont like in others:
1- Irrelevance and/or stupidity.
2- Believing that every single debate has to end with a “triumph”.
3- Being slow or confused pedestrians.
Tag four bloggers and comment on their blogs that they have been tagged and direct them to your post: I would like to pass the joy on to Malhas, Dusty, Lulu, and Wael.
Arabic Entry: سوء تفاهم
In عربي on January 26, 2006 at 6:58 pmلعل احدى أهم الأدلة التي أمتلكها لاثبات أنني لا أنتمي, في حقيقة الأمر, الى أي مدينة, تعود الى أيام الطفولة عندما استقبلنا في نزلنا العماني بعض الأقارب من الكرك. مع هؤلاء جاءت طفلة تصغرني بالعمر سنة أو اثنتين, و في ذلك الوقت كانت متعتي الوحيدة لعبة تصدر فقاعات من الصابون عند النفخ فيها, و أرادت صديقتي الجديدة أن تختبر “طيبتي”, فسألتني أن أعطيها اللعبة كي تجربها قليلا, و كما هو متوقع, تولولي رفضت أن تعير اللعبة للفتاة, و دار الحوار التالي:
الطفلة: خليني ألعب فيها, يا
تولولي: لأ
الطفلة: و الله غير أعلم أمي
تولولي, ظنا منها أن كلمة “أعلم” تعني “أدرس”, و جهلا منها بالمعنى الكركي ” أخبر”, قالت: علميها!
صدمت الطفلة بعض الشيء, فها هي تهددني أن تخبر أمها عن “لؤمي”, و ها أنا أتحداها أن تفعل ذلك. يا لأخلاق أطفال المدينة
الطفلة: خليني ألعب فيها, يا
تولولي: لأ
الطفلة: و الله غير أعلم أمي
تولولي, ظنا منها أن كلمة “أعلم” تعني “أدرس”, و جهلا منها بالمعنى الكركي ” أخبر”, قالت: علميها!
صدمت الطفلة بعض الشيء, فها هي تهددني أن تخبر أمها عن “لؤمي”, و ها أنا أتحداها أن تفعل ذلك. يا لأخلاق أطفال المدينة
What is a king?
In Mythology on January 26, 2006 at 4:46 pmChorus: You are the state, you are the people.Rule unquestioned, you controlThe altar that is your country’s hearth;You fear no vote; by your mere nodYou, monarch on one throne, decide all issues:Therefore, guard against guilt.
Aeschylus’ The Suppliants. Chorus of the Danaids addressing King Pelasgus, ruler of Argos.
Quoting Oscar Wilde on Journalism and Literature
In Quoting on January 25, 2006 at 1:54 pmBut what is the difference between literature and journalism?…Journalism is unreadable and literature is not read. That is all.
-Oscar Wilde
Delila Idris, Belly dancer
In Literature on January 24, 2006 at 12:18 amMutters under her breath This is so not my thing.
-The newest member of our group is Ms.Delila Idris. Hello Delila, care to share something with the group about yourself?
-Yeah, sure. Im 23 years old, and I dance for a living
-Really now? That sounds lovely. What sort of dance? Ballet?
-Nah. I belly dance
Pause. The guys stare at her.
-Hmm, interesting. What else would you like to let the others here know about you?
- I dont do drugs, dont do spirits, and dont do after-the-show-gigs. Could you please tell those two guys over there to stop staring at me?
Pause.
-OK. Why did you join this group, Delila?
- I figured I could get to talk to other people about my problem. Maybe learn something, makes life easier.
-Thats right Delila, were all here to learn.
Note: Handed in with a certain Creative Writing portfolio, an assignment to force a character into a situation where talking is a must. Conversation is revealing of many personality traits; this was the moral of the homework.
Raw Life: Shots from Ghour Al Kafreen
In Jordan, Picturesque on January 23, 2006 at 12:07 amPeople selling eggs,fruits and vegetables, as well as other items on the roadside in Gour Al Kafreen, close to the Dead Sea. The children were running barefoot after a rooster, the women were making a living with what produce they offered, and the men were engaged. The spectacle was bustling with life; crude, unpolluted, remote, horrific, and moving.
Clippings from the original three pictures are put forward to give heed to the specifics, followed by the unclipped authentic shots. Kindly pardon ill-proportioned or blurry visuals. To reflect on the explicit poverty in those clips is, by sharing them, the purpose of this entry. There is nothing fake in this announced status, it is out there for everyone to “evaluate”. The rough, dry feet, the layers upon layers of white textiles over women’s heads, the curious eyes of the men; all are raw faces of survival.
Off the top of my head
In Bits & pieces, Opinion on January 22, 2006 at 12:09 amSince serious, long posts seem to be reader-repellent, a frank question would be related to the “why” behind my posting them. I was nibbling at this notion yesterday with a fellow blogger, and he failed to get through to me. My own experience with blogging has been largely exclusive and personal. To say this is an obvious No No, but I did not actually seek to enter a blogging community of any sort. I blog because A- It is (another) nasty habit I am hooked on to, B- It sharpens my writing skills, C- There are a number of topics about which I have something to say,and, D- Reason X. Attracting an audience is pleasant, don’t get me wrong, it boosts one’s self-esteem and all the other egocentric emotions one may entertain, but it is not the core of my attention.
Another old-new point my fellow blogger mentioned was related to my language. Other readers have approached me, presenting the same issue for debate, and asking me to utilize an easier type of language in my blog. Some have it that the genre of language with which I express my points and opinions is somewhat “distant” from that used in most blogs, some claim it is “difficult” to grasp a passage of mine because I find complex sentences appealing, and others support other opinions.
Something was also said about my “choice of topics”, which, possibly, some people find extremely uninteresting and others (I hope) find entertaining, educational, and/or of some other undeniable value. So there, the three blog-killers all in one place: Long entries, difficult language, and odd topics (using the word “odd” loosely).
While I respect all opinions regarding any given topic, I beg to make my own crystal clear. As I stated above, I blog for my own pleasure. Now this may strike people as being a selfish act of hunting some delightful sin, and it absolutely is. When I find, or think of, a topic that intrigues me, I blog about it. When I am playful enough to share my mood without being indecent (relatively speaking), I do exactly that. My language is a tool to reach out to people, it is not designed to appeal to everyone’s taste, as is the case with many a thing in life. Language should not be a cage, and it should enable one to get through to people. It ought to be fun, too. To prove this point, I do not always post in this dubbed-rigid manner, I often free myself from it and come clean and simple, particularly in T Play Box. Do not mix my saying such things with a smart, even arrogant, retaliation. I wish to make things clear for the confused, no more, no less.
Having established such pillars, it goes without saying that some of my posts receive more attention than others. That is almost like wearing something “fashionable” in everyone’s eyes, and getting praised and flirted with because of it, and wearing something less fashionable and receiving less “noise”. But here’s the catch: when you wear something trendy, you will probably find a bunch of other people wearing similar things because they are exactly that: trendy. That is what I pray does not happen to my blog, quite an analogy, don’t you say?
To dramatize matters, this is a living conflict between what the public wants, and what the blogger/writer is interested in. I opt for the latter freedom. To put it bluntly, I still post long entries, I still use retro language, I still write about what appeals to me. I will, in all probability (should I retain my patience and some extra time), continue to commit all three sins because I am passionate about what I do, and quite a sinner, too!
This terminates this longish, “I” filled entry.
I am in Bangladesh
In Bits & pieces on January 21, 2006 at 10:58 pmOutrageously delightful! Someone from Bangladesh has just dropped me an e-mail saying she would like to use my Analysis: The Female in the Orestia I, at her school. Well, what do you know? My analysis goes international. My family members are proud of me now, I assure you.
On another note, could Vincent please send me that song he promised? Vincent, if you can read this, and feel them vibes, make haste!
Welcome to the real world
In Bits & pieces, Personal on January 21, 2006 at 10:26 amThis is, partially, why I have problems understanding reality.
Sister: How was your first day?
Tololy: I didn’t enjoy it that much.
Sister: Why not?
Tololy: I dunno. I guess I’m not cut out for this kinda thing. I don’t like being confined, and I would rather sit and read somewhere else instead, you know.
Sister: But you won’t get paid for sitting and reading.
Tololy: But that’s what I wanna do. I want to get paid for reading or writing, or maybe studying.
Sister: So you didn’t enjoy the job today?
Tololy: It’s just that I remain seated in the same place, n people talk about other people, n I finish work n just pretend I’m working for what’s left of the day, n I dunno… It’s pointless!
Sister: Welcome to the real world!
Italian Entry: Canzoni Italiane su Ahleen FM
In Italiano on January 21, 2006 at 12:18 amAhleen FM è una stazione radio che trasmitta su 97.15 FM, e, una cosa che ho scoperto recentemente è che questa stazione trasmetta canzoni Italiane! Che bella sorpresa! Che gioia!
Ahleen è stata la mia stazione preferita (scegliendo tra quasi otto or nove stazioni in Amman), ma dopo che ho ascoltato musica Italiana suonata dal DJ Ahleen, mi è piaciuta di più! è da tanto tempo che abbiamo bisogno, noi che parliamo l’italiano nella Giordania, di una stazione di questo tipo. Viva Ahleen!
Yummy Cupcakes
In Bits & pieces on January 20, 2006 at 12:37 am
Those are the cupcakes,
That my sister makes,
They are such a delight,
Sweetness ever so right.
Moist and yummy,
Those pleasures belong in my tummy,
I love my sister’s cupcakes,
(And for that matter),
I love everything she bakes.
T Play Box X
In T Play Box on January 19, 2006 at 10:28 amPlayful, as usual, but now the joy shall spread across the net. Ever reflected on the horrific meanings of casual nursery rhymes? If not, then be forewarned ye Mother Goose fans. I bring you my Tilly Putty Thought for today, Thursday January 19th. Enjoy.
It is absurd to think that one of the most popular rhymes out there, “Ring around the rosie” probably traces its roots to the 1300’s Black Plague that killed millions of people. Ashes, Ashes.
Ring around the rosie
A pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down
Not to forget the three blind, bleeding mice, who run around the kitchen. That’s entertainment for the young and innocent, oh yeah, the kids love this one. My personal favourite is line four, that’s right, the one with the carving knife.
Three blind mice, Three blind mice.
See how they run!See how they run!
They all ran after the farmer’s wife,
She cut off their tails with a carving knife.
Did you ever see such a sight in your life?
As three blind mice!
Then there was the poor egg, Humpty Dumpty, who fell and shattered his head and was beyond repair.
Humpty-Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty-Dumpty had a great fall;
Threescore men and threescore more
Cannot place Humpty-Dumpty as he was before.
In Arabic, the nursey rhyme about slaughtering the pigeons is most delightful. It is used to put children to sleep, and made part of one of Fairouz’s songs.
??? ???? ??? ????
? ?????? ??? ??????
??? ?? ???? ?? ????
???? ?? (?????) ?????Rough Translation:
Sleep, sleep
And I will slaughter the pigeons for you
Go away, you pigeons,
I was bluffing to put (name of child) to sleep
The pigeons are not slaughtered after all, that has to be a good thing, no?
Accurate, ladies and gentlemen. This is what you teach your children, those are the images you plant in their heads, and then, what’s the easiest way out? Blame it on Manson, Satanists, the government, the media, or a black sheep of your own choice. This was my Tilly Putty Thought, now let’s all fall down.
Analysis:The Female in the Orestia I
In Mythology on January 18, 2006 at 12:11 amSo compelling is the drama of Aeschylus’ Orestain Trilogy that it will be treated with attention paid to the strong female character of Clytemnestra. I realize that I treated the play Agamemnon before, and I shall treat it again with more depth in this entry. In addition to Agamemnon, I will examine The Eumenides, the third play completing the circle of the Trilogy.
The story of Clytemnestra and her husband, the King of kings, Agamemnon, requires establishing some historical and mythical background in order for us to truly understand the happenings that the Trilogy revolves around. Therefore, necessary data will be provided, in the briefest form possible, to bring understanding to a closer range, and this entry will serve as prelude to the actual analysis. Do not despair if you find the ancient Greek names difficult, you may replace them with modern names in your head if this helps you understand the story. The depths of the drama are eternally meaningful, patience in reading this entry will be rewarded with unfailing knowledge.
To relate bits of the history of Greek “Olympian” Gods, it is crucial to learn that the regular names one hears of, Zeus, Hera, Apollo, Athene,and the others, were not at all times in Greek history the rulers of the universe. Before them came two generations, the first one being that of Ouranos, who was later overthrown by Cronos. Cronos’ son, the famous Zeus, overpowered his father and seized the throne and control of all beings, this was the new religion. Now Zeus’ power, being as fresh and fragile as it was, is said to be “harsh”. The chorus in Prometheus Bound literally say, regarding his new rule, that “Power newly won is always harsh”.
Perhaps the most important figures in the Trilogy, aside from Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, are the Furies. Those are female personifications of vengeance, their job is to punish crime. In Greek thought, Justice equaled Vengeance. Therefore The Furies were the tools to set the scales right, and to restore Justice. They hunt down wrong-doers, those caught red-handed committing matricide, patricide, or breaking codes of hospitality. The Furies were considered part of the Old Generation, they are said to be the guardians of law when the state proper did not exist. Bearing that they make part of an old system will help us understand the events of the Trilogy much better.
The short mythical background secured, let us move on to the historical facade.
Helen, mostly known for her captivating beauty, was Clytemnestra’s sister. Their mother was Leda, and their father was Zeus. Upon maturing into the breath-taking female that she was, Helen received outrageous numbers of suitors who desired her. The suitors were so infatuated with her physical attributes that they all agreed to consider her word final, and to aid the man to be her husband with their armies, should his possession of her ever be endangered. Helen chose auburn-haired Menelaus, who happened to be Agamemnon’s brother. This choice was followed by Clytemnestra’s choosing Agamemnon as her husband and had with him three children: Orestes, Electra, and Iphigenia. The godly ancestry of the two women (Helen and Clytemnestra) is very important in understanding the status of the female in Greek thinking, this to be later explained.
The Olympian Gods were invited to a wedding, save for a minor power named Eris. This Eris came uninvited, and to cause some trouble, he threw an apple on which were inscribed the words ” For the fairest”, on the table where the Goddesses were seated. Hera, wife of Zeus, Aphrodite, Goddess of love, and Athene, Goddess of wisdom, all quarreled over who gets the apple. To solve this problem, Zeus sent the three female deities to the most beautiful of mortal youth, Paris of Troy. He gave the apple to Aphrodite, for she had promised him the most beautiful woman on earth as prize. This woman was Helen.
Mythology and history incredibly intertwine in the Greek world, thus fueling the imagination of the passionate. Read on.
The Trojan War broke after Helen eloped with Paris to Troy. Her husband, Menelaus, called for the ex-suitors of Helen, the Kings, to live up to their earlier pact. Agamemnon, King of kings, led phenomenal fleets and set sail for Troy to recover Helen. Naturally, he left his wife, Clytemnestra, behind, in the city of Argos.
In Argos there lurked a threat to Agamemnon’s empty throne, personified in his cousin, Aegisthus. The blood-feud between the two is rooted to their fathers, Atreus father of Agamemnon, and Thyestes father of Aegisthus. The two old men argued about who should succeed to the throne of Argos, and to prevent his brother from ruling the kingdom, Atreus had to attach an unforgivable sin toThyestes’ fame, one that would render him permanently taboo in the eyes of the citizens. What better way to do that than to make the man devour the flesh of his own sons? The wholesome meal was served in a banquet, Thyestes was exiled with his remaining son Aegisthus.
Atreus, Agamemnon’s father, got away with the crime. But Vengeance was to haunt his family for eternity until the scores were set even. Aegisthus seduced Clytemnestra, the wife of his cousin, and gave her yet another excuse for the murder that she was about to carry out. Killing Agamemnon.
Another bit of history integral to the story is the heartless act of sacrifice that Agamemnon deemed appropriate. Upon starting the naval journey to Troy, the winds changed and the ships were unable to cross the seas. A soothsayer declared that Artemis must be appeased by the sacrifice of the virgin daughter of Agamemnon, named Iphigenia. Agamemnon, not wanting to risk his status among the other kings, consented and sent for his daughter. He deceived Clytemnestra by telling her that he is about to marry their daughter off to the hero Achilles, the girl was duly slaughtered by her father and the fleet set sail.
With this I conclude the introductory entry to the Analysis of the Female in the Orestia. I leave you with graphics made by yours truly to make things easier for the confused. Figure (1) explains the relationships between Sparta and Argos, while Figure (2) depicts the unended struggle for vengeance between Atreus and Thyestes.
The extra holes
In Body Art on January 17, 2006 at 6:08 pm
For the benefit of all eyes reading this post, and for the spreading of knowledge about Body Art, this picture was posted from Elegant Elements. I should also add that I added six nice sparkling objects to the ears today, and the process was not painless. The problem with piercings is that you stop noticing them in the mirror after some time, and this is truly frustrating and could lead, as in my case, to additions to the metals. A positively rewarding journey, despite the pain and the inability to sleep on your sides.
The Lists
In Personal on January 16, 2006 at 5:24 pmA list of the songs that made it to my very own, most intimate, best and unsurpassed list for the coming seven (or three) days.
1- Tainted Love – Marilyn Manson
2- The Observer – Haggard
3- Don’t Cha – Pussycat Dolls Ft. Busta Rhymes
4- Push The Buttons – SugaBabes
5- So I Need You – 3 Doors Down
6- Wicked Game – Chris Isaak
7- Welcome to Detroit – Trick Trick Ft. Eminem
8- Yummy Yummy – Ohio Express
9- Calma e Sangue Freddo – Luca Dirisio
10- Quello Che Non Conta – Testata Nucleare
The best movie for this week is not SAW II, because that movie is pointlessly bloody, and noisy. I did not appreciate it although it was much better than SAW, the first one. I do not like loose ends and that muscular beast who went around butchering everyone, then slicing the back of his own neck is terribly untrue to life. Not a convincing movie.
The Anniversary Party was definitely a movie worth my time. This movie is so intense and the characters are so properly defined that you can almost feel them in the room with you. Bravo!
Detroit
In Bits & pieces on January 16, 2006 at 12:16 amAsk me not how I landed in dETROITfUNK, I am clueless. I have been searching for a quality blog about Detroit for quite some time now, and I am absolutely thrilled and honoured to announce that I found my lost paradise at dETROITfUNK.
Because I think highly of dETROITfUNK’s work, I decided to designate a speical entry to talk about it. The truth those pictures tell about what Detroit is all about is shocking, it is all too real. I suggest you take a look for yourself, and I guarantee that you will admire what you shall see.
dETROITfUNK was such a pleasant person to contact, and he supplied me with the following picture that symbolizes his work. I am grateful for his cooperation and I am all the more delighted that he decided to share his amazing work with the world. Thanks, dFUNK.
The split bewteen old and new in the City of Detroit. – dETROITfUNK.
In his own words, dETROITfUNK said that “Detroit is hosting SuperBowl 40 in a few weeks, and for the last few years they have trying to modernize the city at a hectic rate. This has led to the demolistion of dozens of buildings from the 1800’s and early 1900’s. Many of us know that you cant save every building, but it is alarming to see so much history bulldozed in such a short time, all in the name of corporate American football.
The building I am standing inside in the photo I sent you was a large foundry built in the late1800’s. The building I am looking at through the broken wall is currently General Motors WorldHeadquarters. The foundry is now demolished. General Motors and the other american car companys have destroyed our way of life in this region, and I personally resent their impact on my localeconomy. So that image ends up being a rather powerful allegory for what has happened here in myhome country of Michigan.”
Hooked for all the wrong reasons
In Opinion on January 15, 2006 at 12:10 amIt is most funny that when a girl wraps up her college years, she is expected by (almost) everyone, even those silent figures in the corner who do not articulate the questions, to get engaged. Allow me to be street for a while and say: man, that’s just wrong.
What pressure this generates, added to that fallen saint Valentine’s Day on February 14th, is truly will-breaking. And what’s scary about it is that most girls give in to it, they somehow feel “obliged” to tie the knot without fully understanding what they are about to commit themselves to.
The Jordanian society, for what layers I have known of it, pours such emphasis on getting engaged before, say, turning 25. After 25, a girl gets an overdose of those sugar-coated wishes of “Obalek” at every social gathering, engagement party, or wedding, that’s Jordanian for ” Wishing the same happens to you”, those wishes that actually mean: “Why is there no rock on that finger of yours, yet?”.
With this state of affairs, it is very natural to find impressive numbers of girls who got hooked for the wrong reasons, realised what errors they made, broke up, and are being judged by the rest of the saints. Wrong delivers wrong.
The role of parents is very crucial in shaping this dilemma. Some parents put their girls under such pressure to “find a man”, preferably one with a wholesome bank account, right after they graduate. Some girls get influenced with what their friends do or preach, taking this to a personal level, most of my own girl friends are all about this talk lately that I find it hard to be around them for long. It degrades me, I am not all about finding someone to fill some gap in my life just because Amman thinks so, much less because it is hype to have a boy tagging along everywhere I go.
Getting engaged is not the ultimate quest of a girl’s life, and it should not be pictured as such. It is a choice a girl should make when she is ready, not when society thinks she’s ripe and ready to be picked by that chevalier.
A girl should know her options. If she’s in a satisfying relationship with someone then all the better. If she is into her girl friends more than the knights, then so be it. If she does not accept or respect the institution of marriage, then all the sinister sounds should step back and bow to that.
Update: I present my apologies for the longish entry, and for the tone I used. Trust that I do not make light of this issue, and that I had not the slightest intention to talk as much about it. Plus I have just changed the date and time of the entry to suit this update.
Print it
In Bits & pieces, Picturesque on January 14, 2006 at 9:38 amFor those who like to obtain hard copies of the entries posted in the Box, I am pleased to announce that a new “Printable Version” feature is enabled. All you need to do is click on “Links” right under the entry in question, or visit the permenant page of the post, and there you will have it in its own cute button: “Printable Version”.
This is what will happen: Clicking on the button will open a new window where you will find the post in its minimalist form, much like in Microsoft Word, a dialogue to operate your printer will also pop up. From this you determine how many copies you need, and what sort of paper you use, the works.
A simple visual demonstration of the process:
This is what you get: The post in its basic form, and the print properties dialogue box.
Go on, try it, I know you want to.
Eid evaluation
In Opinion on January 13, 2006 at 3:26 pmEid Al Adha is in its fourth and final day today, Friday January 13th. It was a unique event that I personally enjoyed tremendously, although I have seen certain behaviors that are in extreme contrast with the Eid’s spirit and what it stands for.
To start with the sacrifices, large numbers of people seem to find it quite normal to slaughter the sheep in the streets. That is not healthy, let alone Islamic. I wonder they do not reflect on the great emphasis Islam puts on cleanliness and manners. It is hard to believe that anyone who sheds animal blood on the street, where people drive and sometimes walk, has decent manners or any understanding for what effects this would have on the image of Islam in the eyes of others.
I also abhorred the way some people throw the sheep in their car boots, not caring if the animal gets hurt or not. That is very cruel, I think one should treat animals with respect. Some may argue that the sheep are going to be sacrificed eventually, but this does not mean they should be hurt like that. There are certain rules to be followed to give the animal a decent death, and it should not suffer.
It should be noted that, regarding the sacrifice, shares of meat are given to the poor and the needy according to a set ratio. This is a beautiful religious law that is sadly corrupted by the misconduct of some people when they fail to carry it out properly, and certainly when they mistreat the sheep.
One of the most obvious aspects of Eid is visiting one’s kinsfolk and exchanging Eid greetings, as well as offering proper hospitality rites to relatives, friends and neighbours. This has developed, to some people, into a tedious social task that they worry about beforehand. In some cases it even prevents people from fully enjoying and appreciating the Eid, and I think this is due to the social falsehoods we are faced with in our daily lives. What is right does not seem right anymore.
I wish to share two pictures that I shot during the Eid. The first one is of the cinnamon drink cup, this drink is an integral part of any Eid at our place. My mother loves to make cinnamon drink, and it is rather popular with the extended family as well. One can sip this drink right out of the cup or, if one prefers, one may enjoy it bit by bit with a spoon. That’s how I do it, and I can say I never saw anyone else drinking it the way I do. This was my cup, topped with ground nuts.
This is a picture of “Mamoul”, the traditional Eid sweets. Everyone plays a role in making Mamoul, firstly because large quantities are needed, and secondly because it takes considerable work to make those little delights. The round Mamoul with the hole in the middle are stuffed with minced and spiced dates, and the Mamoul without the hole are stuffed with ground and spiced nuts. Obviously, soft sprinkles of ground regular sugar are added to give some color. Bear in mind that each and every Mamoul is decorated by hand using a small clip-like tool designed for this purpose, some people use ready-made moulds but we do it the original way.
Celebrating Blogday
In Bits & pieces on January 13, 2006 at 12:08 amThis may come as a shock, but I was not born a blogger. While I have always been a net junkie, some times for the good part of what that means and at others for quite the opposite, I started self-publishing on January 13th, 2004. This makes it two years today, and in retrospect I am quite amazed at the changes that my blogging has undergone.
Moving from a basic, minimalist service at Blurty.com, where the “community” is largely different from the one I am exposed to presently,I shifted to Blogger and started publishing under a similar name. I do not say pseudonym, for multiple reasons, and I would appreciate it if you marked my diction because it is not empty.
My enlightenment came through a New York Times IT article by Emily Nussbaum made public on Sunday, January 11, 2004. At that time I was an avid reader of the e-paper, checking it daily and gladly checking my mouth after a good read. I was so flooded with sentiments of sheer delight and an adrenaline rush swept through my frame that I just had to try this “thing” out. I made the technological leap and I can positively announce that it has proven to be more significant than were my initial expectations for it.
Since I know many curious eyes are digging for information about the much-cited ex-blog, I believe it is only fair to disclose some bits of data about it: it was very introspective, very basic, and very unread. I was technically my only reader and, surprise of all surprises, I was the subject matter. Nothing too fancy, this was a place where I poured out what chaos or order I had in my head, when I felt like it.
The decision to move my blogging activities corresponded with a decision to enforce change, or to accept it, in many aspects of life. Better understanding for what I was looking for helped me make the call, and the style of writing and the scope of topics handled changed accordingly. I faced no problems moving from Blurty to Blogger, and the fact that I had one reader greatly facilitated the step.
To truly celebrate my second blogday, my friend Mahdy designed this beautiful template for me as a gift. I thank him for his generosity and kindness. As you may have noticed, this new design brings a total transformation from the previous soothing earth tones to the bold reds and yellows. It may take you some time getting used to it, but I have no doubts that it will grow on you, much like I did.
I am tempted to reveal some of the cool new features in the Box. Try hovering over the links present in the sidebar, for instance, and see the amazing color changes. Also look for the home icon on top of the header, this would take you directly to the front page of the blog. And my favorite feature of all times: the way the sidebar is neatly tucked in its titles, this would help me add more links to my list. I did not wish to do that before because I do not like crammed, confusing sidebars. Now I can do that without feeling bad for confusing my readers.
Bringing this potentially epic-like entry to an end, I say that I am pleased with what I have done so far through my blogs. I am tremendously flattered that there are people out there who dedicate minutes of their days to read my mind, and I earnestly hope I manage to provide material worthy of their time.
Eid Mubarak
In Bits & pieces on January 10, 2006 at 12:06 amTololy’s Box will not be updated during the coming three days due to the event of Eid Al Adha, one of the two major Islamic festivities. I would like to wish all people a nice time, and to say to those who understand Arabic: ??? ???? ?????
To members of the readership who simply cannot survive without a dose of the Box, I would suggest a look into the Archives present on the sidebar.
Personal Entry: Ode to college memories
In Personal on January 9, 2006 at 10:46 pmI hope nobody reads this. Really. I am writing this for myself.
The Tololy is prepared to be self centered and to come clean with those haunting notions in the mind. Conflicts they generate and no rest they give her, therefore she has decided to jot them down. Spill them on the monitor using five fingers. Note the persona changing.
I am having all sorts of sad feelings when I think that I am done with studying, for the time being. Being at college was one of the most profound experiences of my life, it taught me a lot, and I am certain it did not mean it. Coming at a crucial time in The Tololy’s life, a time rich with experiments and various currents of thought and belief, it goes without saying that it itched a warm memory.
Just thinking of this time, in previous semesters, made me cry. I have come to discover that I am highly sentimental about places, locations matter to me. I think I might be a bit too loyal and fragile in this regard. I am attached to the very campus of the U of J, it holds so many of my personalities.
Sometimes when I am trying to get from point A to point B, I see a spot and I instantly get back in the mood that I had once entertained or suffered in that location. The people I was with, the chronological frame, previous and post events; all those come back to me in a flash.
At the end of each semester I cry. Why I do that I am not sure. I may sound like your choice of a nerd when I say that I even bond with professors. They tend to really like me, and I am not making this up. I bond with the books, too! The end of a semester means the end of a special relationship with an atmosphere, the closure of a state.
I would like to name a few of my professors, those who have had strong influence over the mechanics of my years as a student. Dr.Jihad Shuaibi, who always had an amazing amount of faith in me. He never, not even once, put me down, and was supportive at all times. Prof.Ubaldo Lugli, who taught me how to appreciate literature and history, and who always had superb views about everything. His encyclopedic character had a major impact on my line of thought, and because of him I read more. He had this way of knowing everything, with dates -mind you, that made me extremely jealous and hence triggered a yet crazier thirst for knowledge within this mind of mine. Those super-intelligent conversations we used to have for hours on end after official class time is up will forever remain with my intellect, treasured moments of enlightenment.
Not to forget Prof.Maria Laura Iasci, who was pretty tough on everyone inside class and yet managed to be everyone’s best friend outside. I would never forget the uncertainty I felt every time I sat for an exam of her design, but her classes were one of the most beneficial. My Japanese language teacher, Kobayashi sensei, was the sweetest face to see at 8 AM, someone who teaches something considerably difficult and yet makes the lesson such an enjoyable experience. She brought light to my eyes about many of Japan’s fine arts and cultural facades, and her birthday party was splendid. I got to try original O Sushi, Wasabi, Sakura, as well as other things.
I would never betray Dr.Hassan Hassan’s memory. He was my Hebrew language teacher, and for the two levels of the language that I took was serious and kind at the same time. I love the fact that he greets me whenever we meet on campus, and every time he asks about my schooling and such. He is a very intelligent instructor and truly caring.
Tonight I passed by the university’s premises, and I was suddenly gasping for air. This is so sad. It’s this stage of my life that has been, up until now, the most fun, the most insane, the most rejected, and the most emotional; all in one! I cannot seem to be able to bring myself to accept that it is over, I have closure issues. Disgusting.
From hanging out with hardcore metal heads, to the Adiga corner, to the pavement of the street dubbed as “The Vulgars’”, to the coolest spot by the Business Administration faculty called “The Square”, to the “Square” right in the middle of the science faculties’ section of campus, to the Languages’ “Square”, I grew into totally different people in such brief periods of time.
Those dark phases of depression that I used to live quite frequently and the days on which I was giddy after a dose of orange juice, the sacred oversized turkey sandwiches, the explicit words I would use on slow pedestrians, the numerous crushes on guys who never even knew I existed, the following someone just to bug them, the girl I used to hammer every time I saw and the getting my friends to do that to her too (not nice), the smart verbal fights with this girl who thinks she’s oh-so-hot, the everyday fashion shows, the twisted alien presentations where I would wear a silver jacket and shiny purple shoes with them odd accessories and the weird head thing (because I am talking about aliens, you see), the editing job at the campus journal, the failed attempt to donate blood, the cancer centre with the beautiful children, the sign language course with the Saudi man who likes to play with his dirty feet in class, the hordes of professors who teach English or Italian and yet speak a language of their own, the bookshop where all the world’s printed words’ seduction exists, the bits of volunteering I did here and there, the ceremony where the Rector of the university and the deans gave me and others some awards, the being written about in a newspaper (with a colored picture!), the harshly cold winter days where folks try in vain to get me to drink something hot, the being an outcast to the limit of the title due to unseen-before dress codes, the being defiant and rebellious, and the rest of what I was.
Those are my memories. I keep them in my heart, and sometimes there are pictures to speak of them. I enjoyed every second of being a university student, I terribly loved it, and those gloomy days in particular have shaped me into what I am today.
I have said much, this does not qualify as a blog entry to some, but language is inadequate. Truly crippled.
The Seventh Level of Hell: Dante’s Inferno Test
In Bits & pieces, Personal on January 9, 2006 at 12:43 amThat is where Tololy will suffer. Very amusing and it makes one reflect on matters.
The Dante’s Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Seventh Level of Hell
Guarded by the Minotaur, who snarls in fury, and encircled within the river Phlegethon, filled with boiling blood, is the Seventh Level of Hell. The violent, the assasins, the tyrants, and the war-mongers lament their pitiless mischiefs in the river, while centaurs armed with bows and arrows shoot those who try to escape their punishment. The stench here is overpowering. This level is also home to the wood of the suicides- stunted and gnarled trees with twisting branches and poisoned fruit. At the time of final judgement, their bodies will hang from their branches. In those branches the Harpies, foul birdlike creatures with human faces, make their nests. Beyond the wood is scorching sand where those who committed violence against God and nature are showered with flakes of fire that rain down against their naked bodies. Blasphemers and sodomites writhe in pain, their tongues more loosed to lamentation, and out of their eyes gushes forth their woe. Usurers, who followed neither nature nor art, also share company in the Seventh Level.
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
| Level | Score |
|---|---|
| Purgatory (Repenting Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 1 – Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers) | Very Low |
| Level 2 (Lustful) | Very High |
| Level 3 (Gluttonous) | High |
| Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious) | High |
| Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy) | Very High |
| Level 6 – The City of Dis (Heretics) | Low |
| Level 7 (Violent) | Extreme |
| Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers) | Very High |
| Level 9 – Cocytus (Treacherous) | High |
Take the Dante’s Inferno Test
Italian/English Entry: La Commedia
In Italiano, Literature on January 8, 2006 at 12:10 amConsiderate la vostra semenza
Fatti non foste a viver come bruti,
ma per seguir virtute e canoscenza
- Dante Alighieri, La Commedia (Inferno Canto XXVI)
Nelle intenzioni di Dante la Commedia è un poema sacro, e, come la Sacra Scrittura, non ha un unico significato: il soggetto di tutta lopera, preso soltanto nel suo senso letterale, è lo stato delle anime dopo la morte [...]. Se invece si vuol prendere lopera nel suo significato allegorico, il soggetto è luomo, in quanto meritando o demiertando nellesercizio del suo libero arbitrio, è soggetto al giusto premio o alla giusta pena (Lettera a Cangrande).
Così il viaggio di Dante nei tr regni simboleggia una sua esperienza spirituale di conoscenza e di redenzione, ma traccia anche il cammino che lintera umanità deve compiere per liberarsi dalla miseria e dalla corruzione e per raggiungere la felecità e la pace.
- ARMELLINI Guido , COLOMBO Adriano , Guida alla letteratura Italiana , Zanichelli editore , Bologna 1995.
An attempt shall be made to provide the best English equivalents for the previous Italian passages. Find as follows the content in that language.
Consider what origin you had;
You were not created to live like brutes,
But to seek virtue and knowledge
You were not created to live like brutes,
But to seek virtue and knowledge
Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy (Inferno Canto XXVI), adopted from H. R Huse translation.
Heres my humble translation of the Italian text above.
Dantes intention for The Divine Comedy was to present it as a sacred poem. Like the Holy Writ, it does not have only one interpretation: The subject of the totality of the work, taken in its literal sense alone, is the state of the spirit after death. If, instead of that, one wants to regard the work in its parables, then the subject is Man, who by excising his Free Will, is worthy or unworthy of the right reward or the right punishment (Letter to Cangrande)
In this manner, Dantes trip in the three realms symbolizes his spiritual experience of knowledge and redemption. But it also traces the walk that all humanity will have to complete to liberate itself from misery and from corruption, and to arrive to happiness and peace.
Love-Hate thing
In Bits & pieces on January 7, 2006 at 12:01 amThe following is another experiment. Do not press your brains too harshly if meanings elude explanation. This entry soars gratis.
It’s not that it invites her to it, the thing does not speak. It does not put on a show, but it puts up with hers everytime. The floods of less-than-acceptable (Parental Advisory, Explicit Lyrics, is it?) words gushing its way from her on a daily basis does not stop it from serving her, because it is mindless.
She even speaks of it to her friends, to anyone who would listen really. It’s this thing that keeps on nagging at her, a thing she wants to get rid of but she cannot afford to lose. Now that’s something! She’s been wanting to stop the regular nightly tapping on them buttons for quite some time now, say seven years. Every time a new decision, every time there’s resistance, and every time the seduction works better. Old dog, eager to learn new tricks.
The stupid pile of junk mocks her. What with the ages it takes to initialize a contact, the depressing sessions that lead nowhere and suck in a bunch of her “hours”, it drives her mad, literally. But she comes back to it. It is the core of her technological illiteracy. It enslaved her a long time ago, in days gone by it was a passion notwithstanding the fact that it gave no satisfaction whatsoever. Just an illusion of a thing, humor it.
It’s this twisted, some may dub as being perverted, addiction. It runs in wires and in the blood. The electrical genius that turned into a wordless monster. “This isn’t me I’m not mechanical”. Oh really? “You were my mechanical bride”.
Share a myth V
In Literature, Mythology, Picturesque on January 6, 2006 at 1:21 amThe chosen myth for this post is derived from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. The story of Narcissus is so popular the grand public mostly know something about it, even if not the particulars. The original is longish, therefore bits and pieces shall be shared in this post, in hopes that the most significant are featured.
“When her time was come, that nymph most fair brought forth a child with whom one could have fallen in love even in his cradle, and she called him Narcissus.
Cephisus’ child had reached his sixteenth year, and could be counted at once boy and man. Many lads and many girls fell in love with him, but his soft young body housed a pride so unyielding that none of those boys or girls dared to touch him. One day, as he was driving timid deers into his nets, he was seen by that talkative nymph who cannot stay silent when another speaks, but yet has not learned to speak first herself. Her name is Echo, and she always answers back.
Echo still had a body then, she was not just a voice: but although she was always chattering, her power of speech was no different from what it is now. All she could do was to repeat the last words of the many phrases that she heard.
So, when she saw Narcissus wandering through the lonely countryside, Echo fell in love with him, and followed secretly in his footsteps. The more closely she followed, the nearer was the fire which scorched her: just as sulphur, smeared round the tops of torches is quickly kindled when a flame is brought near it.
The boy, by chance, had wandered away from his faithful band of comrades, and he called out: “Is there anybody here?”, Echo answered: “Here!”. Narcissus stood still in astonishment, looking round in every direction, and cried at the pitch of his voice: “Come!”, as he called, she called in reply.
To make good her words she came out of the wood and made to throw her arms around the neck she loved: but he fled from her, crying as he did so, “Away with these embraces! I would die before I would have you touch me!”. Her only answer was: “I would have you touch me!”. Thus scorned, she concealed herself in the woods, hiding her shamed face in the shelter of the leaves, and ever since that day, she dwells in lonely caves. Yet still her love remained firmly rooted in her heart, and was increased by the pain of having been rejected. She became wrinkled and wasted; all the freshness of her beauty withered into the air. Only her voice and her bones were left.
Narcissus had played with her affections, treating her as he had previously treated other spirits of the waters and the woods, and his male admirers too. Then one of those he had scorned raised up his hands to heaven and prayed: ” May he himself fall in love with another, as we have done with him! May he too be unable to gain his loved one!”. Nemesis heard and granted his righteous prayer.
There was a clear pool, with shining silvery waters, where shepherds had never made their way; no goats that pasture on the mountains, no cattle had ever come there. Narcissus, wearied with the hunting in the heat of the day, lay down here. While he sought to quench his thirst, another thirst grew in him, and as he drank, he was enchanted by the beautiful reflection that he saw. He fell in love with an insubstantial hope, mistaking a mere shadow for a real body.
He did not know what he was looking at, but was fired by the sight, and excited by the very illusion that deceived his eyes. Poor foolish boy, why vainly grasp at the fleeting image that eludes you? The thing you are seeing does not exist, only turn aside and you will lose what you love. What you see is but the shadow cast by your reflection; in itself it is nothing. It comes with you, and lasts while you are there; it will go when you go, if go you can.
His tears disturbed the water, so that the pool rippled, and the image grew dim. He saw it disappearing, and cried aloud: “Where are you fleeing? Cruel creature, stay, do not desert one who loves you! Let me look upon you, if I cannot touch you. Let me, by looking, feed my ill-starred love.” In his grief, he tore away the upper portion of his tunic, and beat his bared breast with hands as white as marble. His breast flushed rosily where he struck it. When Narcissus saw this reflected in the water, he could bear it no longer. As golden wax melts with gentle heat, as morning frosts are thawed by the warmth of the sun, so he was worn and wasted away with love, and slowly consumed by its hidden fire. His fair complexion with its rosy flush faded away, gone with his youthful strength, and all the beauties which lately charmed his eyes. Nothing remained of that body which Echo once had loved.”
Visual: “Metamorphosis of Narcissus” by Dali, 1937.
Outlaw the music
In Opinion on January 5, 2006 at 10:56 amClaiming that music, and musical tastes, are subjective matters, it should follow that nobody has any say over what one listens to, be that ’somebody’ individuals, religious authorities, or the law.
With the music scene bursting with new performers, some of whom are alleged singers, it gets more challenging to get what one wants from one’s potential CD collection. It’s a world of choices, a gala of trials-and-errors, and with those CDs not selling cheap, making the decision is all the more tantalizing.
Music affects lives. It could make you cry on a lonely night, send your hips swaying, or calm your senses. In some cases, it could inspire you to kill your school buddies at Columbine High School and shout ‘Marilyn Manson Rules’. Music could preach violence, suicide, and hatred. It could even market drugs and crime, and glorify thugs. That’s Trick Trick Ft. Eminem’s new ‘Welcome to Detroit’; Quick come pick me up, bring them guns , Come to the club, meet me out front.
But then again, what you put in your ears is your own business, is it not?
Tololy takes Ohio I
In Picturesque on January 4, 2006 at 1:40 pm“Yummy, yummy yummy, I got love in my tummy!”- so goes the 1968 song of Ohio Express, a brilliant choice for any given event. Truly good-time happy music from the very best bubblegum rock band. I applaud Ohio Express, and would like to pay tribute to their ageless tunes by posting some pictures I took during my very short stay in Ohio. The pictures that are about to tickle your visual appetite were taken in the summer of 2005.
We love felines, but they were sleeping and unwilling to parade for us at The Tiger Terrace. That makes one wonder who is the real boss out there. A sleeping tiger, I have never seen any more beautiful a spectacle in my life. I truly respect animals; felines and reptiles in particular. There is an air of majesty to Big Cats, they dominate the scene and they don’t even sweat it. This picture, and other pictures of animals, were taken at The Toledo Zoo.
Here’s to Africa.
The Reptile House held some of the most fascinating creatures. Take a look for yourself. I just wish there was a way to touch or play with the Princes of the Wild. There wasn’t any, one would have to content one’s self just looking from behind the glass barrier. That was heartbreaking.
And then, of course, were the penguins. A superb, if undocumented in pictures, visit was paid to The Aquarium and The Arctic Encounter.
Quoting Aphra Behn on variety
In Quoting on January 3, 2006 at 8:02 pmThe Critical Period Hypothesis
In Bits & pieces on January 2, 2006 at 12:28 pmThe Critical Period Hypothesis examines questions such as: “Would I have had a better understanding of language X had I started learning it earlier on?”, or “Would a child reared in the wild be able to develop a linguistic system?”.
The Critical Period Hypothesis basically sustains that Language Acquisition would be at its best until the age of 12. After this time barrier, not only would learning a language be more challenging, but it would also be not as fruitful as one would like and never would an individual after the age of 12 grasp a language as perfectly as a native speaker.
Not to put things too pessimistically, it all boils down to simple biology. The capacity to acquire language is biologically determined, it is an integral part of a general cognitive ability. Sustaining this, it would be logical to deduce that an individual may be able to learn a language as long as there is a sort of “readiness” in the brain to receive this language.
If language acquisition is a biological utility linked directly to the left hemisphere of the brain, where linguistic functions reside, one would expect the brain to have allocated a special place to receive this utility. In the case of feral children, those who did not get the chance to live in a proper linguistic environment, this place in the brain is not developed because the brain had not been stimulated to create it.
Another example on this point is left hemisphere damage. Should the left hemisphere be subject to damage, in adults it would take it five months to recover. If not, the individual’s linguistic abilities would perish. This recovery takes a longer time in children, and it is generally full. In some extreme cases, when the child is very young, sever damage and even removal of large parts of the left hemisphere do not affect language acquisition.
It’s all about plasticity. When a child’s brain grows, and his linguistic abilities grow in parallel lines with it, language acquisition is a breeze. That moment in time gone, the brain reaching its lateralization without a matching linguistic growth,therefore losing its plasticity, language acquisition would become difficult.
Cases of feral children trying to compensate for their linguistic losses are cited from this link.
” The first case was a deaf mute child named Isabelle, who was found at the age of six and half. She spent alone in a darkened room before being found, but she succeeded in her language learning because she was at the age of six and half. Brown (1958: 192, cited in Aitchison 1989:85) recorded:
Isabelle passed through the usual stage of linguistic development at a greatly accelerated rate. She covered in two years the learning that ordinarily occupies six years. By the age of eight and one half Isabelle was not easily distinguishable from ordinary children of her age.
It is reasonable to consider that she was able to acquire her language because she started learning before the critical period came to an end.
The second case was Genie, who was found at the age of about fourteen (Curtiss, Fromkin, Krashen, Rigler, and Rigler 1974). Because she started learning a language after the critical period, her progress was slower than other children. For example, her two-word stage, at which every child goes though uttering two words at a time like ‘Want milk’ and ‘Mummy play,’ lasted much longer. Genie used this type of primitive form and its negation such as ‘No want milk’ for a longer period. Her ability to learn vocabulary was superior to other children. However, her grammatical development was much slower and unsuccessful, because her critical period had passed already. Since she started learning a language after she was already pubescent, Genie had to take quite a long time to acquire a language.
The third case was Chelsea, who started to learn language in her early thirties (Curtiss 1988). She showed poor grammatical ability like Genie, but her vocabulary was better. It was recorded that her syntax created sentences such as ‘the woman is bus the going’ and ‘banana the eat.’
All these cases of children reared in isolated environments reveal the difficulties of learning a language after the critical period”
Telepathy, with a vengeance
In Bits & pieces, Picturesque on January 1, 2006 at 9:18 pmSo Roba sends Tololy an email to wish her a Happy New Year
While on my daily Jordan Planet surf, I log on today to Tololy’s Box and find a redesign, so I email Tololy with wishes for happy new year and a pat on the back.
And much to Tololy’s surprise, Roba attaches a picture to her email, one very similar to the new header at the Box!
I also email her a picture I took downtown around a year or so ago that’s very similar to her new header image, mainly because a few weeks back, she emailed me a picture she took last summer that’s very similar to my header image! Whee!
The Fates could not be more cunning! A quick look at the picture that Roba sent proves to Tololy that she has the same exact picture on some CD in some corner. She fishes for the CD, then for the picture, and says : This is freakish! you won’t believe it! and sends the email off to Roba
Tololy replies with an attachment herself- and for a minute, I thought Tololy sent me an empty email back with the original picture that I sent. But then, upon scrutiny, I realized that shit!- It’s not my picture, but it’s a picture taken at the same exact and angle as the picture that I sent her! How freaky! Blogerette ESP, anyone?
Naturally, the blogger in me is thinking “Dude, that’s so weird! I so wanna blog this!”
Tololy sends Roba an email that says: Ok listen here’s a suggestion coz I’m blogblocked today. Could you blog it for me too? Have you as a guest-blog? what do you think?
A shared blogblock day resulted in an MSN conversation and an idea for an experimental blog post, sorta like synchronized swimming ;)
And there you have it. The fruit of telepathy and a blogger’s block, an interaction between Tololy and Roba. Should we mention how scary it was to discover how similar the two pictures are? Or how the two girls turned out to be pretty experimental?
The first picture is Tololy’s, and the second is Roba’s.
Apologetic
In Bits & pieces on January 1, 2006 at 8:23 pmIt is official now. We at the Box turn in a most apologetic manner your way for what concerns several errors that have been published of late. Be that a broken link or a jammed date, we take it back, fix it, and re-post it with love.
