phobias - a meme

First of all, this photo is totally unrelated. The chicklet depicted is called 'Fagyi' ('Icecream') - for its creamy white colored plumage. S/he will turn white when older, though. White hens/roosters are born yellow I learned recently.

The phobias meme.

I marked the phobias I have with an 'x'. This meme comes from somewhere... If you wish to participate, copy the whole thing, clear the x-es and re-mark the fears you are aware of having.

A
[x ] Achluophobia - Fear of darkness. Very mild one.
[ ] Acrophobia - Fear of heights.
[x ] Agliophobia - Fear of pain. I might add: Fear of pointless pain. I gave birth to my daughter without painkillers, but put me into a dentist's chair and I'm a chicken.

[ ] Agoraphobia - Fear of open spaces or crowds.
[ ] Aichmophobia - Fear of needles or pointed objects.
[ ] Amaxophobia - Fear of riding in a car.
[ ] Androphobia - Fear of men.
[ ] Anginophobia - Fear of choking.
[ ] Anthrophobia - Fear of flowers.
[ ] Anthropophobia - Fear of people or society.
[ ] Aphenphosmphobia - Fear of being touched. - although I don't like when people get very close to me. I don't like being patted on the shoulder as a part of a friendly conversation, either. Some friends of mine keep coming closer and closer while we chat. And I keep withdrawing until there's not more space left to retreat. Does that count?
[ ] Arachnophobia - Fear of spiders.
[ ] Arithmophobia - Fear of numbers.
[ ] Astraphobia - Fear of thunder and lightning.
[x] Ataxophobia - Fear of disorder or untidiness. If untidiness goes beyond a certain level I get angry and anxious.
[x ] Atelophobia - Fear of imperfection.
[x] Atychiphobia - Fear of failure.
[ ] Autophobia - Fear of being alone.

B
[ ] Bacteriophobia - Fear of bacteria.
[ ] Barophobia - Fear of gravity.
[ ] Bathmophobia - Fear of stairs or steep slopes.
[ ] Batrachophobia - Fear of amphibians.
[ ] Belonephobia - Fear of pins and needles.
[ ] Bibliophobia - Fear of books.
[ ] Botanophobia - Fear of plants.

C
[ ] Cacophobia - Fear of ugliness.
[ ] Catagelophobia - Fear of being ridiculed.
[ x] Catoptrophobia - Fear of mirrors. We do have mirrors in our house, though. This is probably my strangest fear in the list. I can precisely trace it back to a fantasy film I saw when I was a teenager.
[ ] Chionophobia - Fear of snow.
[ ] Chromophobia - Fear of colors.
[ ] Chronomentrophobia - Fear of clocks.
[ ] Claustrophobia - Fear of confined spaces.
[ ] Coulrophobia - Fear of clowns.
[ ] Cyberphobia - Fear of computers.
[x ] Cynophobia - Fear of dogs. A very mild one. I avoid dogs that are unfamiliar to me.

D
[ ] Dendrophobia - Fear of trees.

[x ] Dentophobia - Fear of dentists. A severe one.

[ ] Domatophobia - Fear of houses.

[ ] Dystychiphobia - Fear of accidents.

E

[ ] Ecophobia - Fear of the home.

[ ] Elurophobia - Fear of cats.

[x ] Entomophobia - Fear of insects. A very mild one. Only if they are turned upside down.

[ ] Ephebiphobia - Fear of teenagers.

[x ] Equinophobia - Fear of horses. I used to have one. Now I want to do some horseback riding training with my son.

F

[ ] Flo-Beephobia - Fear of vacuum cleaners.

G

[ ] Gamophobia - Fear of marriage.

[ ] Genuphobia - Fear of knees.

[ ] Gephyrophobia - Fear of walking across bridges

] Glossophobia - Fear of speaking in public.

[ ] Gynophobia - Fear of women.

H

[ ] Heliophobia - Fear of the sun.

[ ] Hemophobia - Fear of blood.

[ ] Herpetophobia - Fear of reptiles.

[ ] Homophobia- Fear of homosexuals

] Hydrophobia - Fear of water. I used to have a fear of drowning, though.

I

[x ] Iatrophobia - Fear of doctors. A mild one. They have the knife but not always the knowledge and respect.

K

[ ] Koinoniphobia - Fear of rooms.

L

[ ] Leukophobia - Fear of the color white.

[ ] Lilapsophobia - Fear of tornadoes and hurricanes.

[ ] Lockiophobia - Fear of childbirth.

M

[ ] Mageirocophobia - Fear of cooking.

[ ] Melanophobia - Fear of the color black.

] Microphobia - Fear of small things.

[x ] Mysophobia - Fear of dirt and germs. A moderate one. My husband keeps telling me 'Where do you think we're living in? It's a family house not a hospital for the contagious during a war.' I tell people who enter the house to take their shoes off at the entrance of the rooms. I am that rude with first ime visitors as well. For I can't stand when I put my feet on the hardwood and can feel the scratch of soil underneath. I love soil, though. I really do - but not in the house, please.

N

[ ] Necrophobia - Fear of death or dead things.

[ ] Noctiphobia - Fear of the night

[ ] Nosocomephobia - Fear of hospitals.

O

[x ] Obesophobia - Fear of gaining weight. A very mild one.

[ ] Octophobia - Fear of the figure 8.

[ ] Ombrophobia - Fear of rain.

[ ] Ophidiophobia - Fear of snakes.

] Ornithophobia - Fear of birds.

[ ] Ostroconaphobia - Fear of seafood.

P

[ ] Papyrophobia - Fear of paper.

[ ] Pathophobia - Fear of disease.

[x ] Pedophobia - Fear of children. Well, I admit I feel that some children can be a total disaster.

] Philophobia - Fear of love.

] Phobophobia - Fear of phobias.

[ ] Podophobia - Fear of feet.

[ ] Porphyrophobia - Fear of the color purple.

[ ] Pteridophobia - Fear of ferns.

] Pteromerhanophobia - Fear of flying.

[ ] Pyrophobia - Fear of fire.

S

[ ] Scolionophobia - Fear of school.

[ ] Selenophobia - Fear of the moon.

[ ] Sociophobia - Fear of social evaluation.
[ ] Somniphobia - Fear of sleep.

T

[ ] Tachophobia - Fear of speed.

[ ] Technophobia - Fear of technology.

[ ] Tonitrophobia - Fear of thunder.

[ ] Trypanophobia - Fear of injections.

[ ] Tryscadectaphobia- Fear of the number 13.

V

[ ] Venustraphobia - Fear of beautiful women.

[ ] Verminophobia - Fear of germs. - that was already covered.

W

[ ] Wiccaphobia - Fear of witches and witchcraft.

X

[ ] Xenophobia - Fear of strangers or foreigners.

Z

[ ] Zoophobia - Fear of animals.

AND, I have to add some more phobias to the list that I know I have - if you know the Latin for them, please educate me.

(x) Fear of bears. Severe.

(x) Fear of being electrocuted by some household machine or by some other accident. Severe.

quiz

I've found a hauntingly horrible, beautiful image in a book I read now. On page 27, it says quote*Here and there are worms, evidence of the fertility of the soil, caught by the sun, half dead; flexible and pink, like lips.*quote ends.

I wish I had written that.

Here comes the fun part.

Name the author and/or the book and you'll be rewarded.

The winner picks a color/feeling/emotion and I post a picture among my archives (no google search) that fits that. It can be a flower of that color, a landscape that reflects the emotion/feeling or something else. This idea has just popped into my head. A bit raw, but so is the image.

Go ahead. There will be a winner I'm sure.

I'm back

less wise, perhaps, for I had to have one of my wisdom teeth removed this evening. I used to have all the four, but now there are only three left.

Let me NOT share my experience with you in the dentist's chair, will you?

Thank you.

Every time I go to the dentist, I reward myself with a little treat. It usually is a DVD I rent. This is to honor my will and strength that I gather to overcome my fear.... I have a phobia I'm afraid. I'd rather endure the pain than go and see the doctor. Isn't that abnormal?

This time, I chose 'A History of violence', with Viggo Mortensen, for whom I have a soft spot since I have seen him as Aragorn.

And for Beth and for anyone who likes photos of the garden, here is a Greek basil

Herb Garden and Chicken

Hajas and her chicklets in the raspberry stand.

This is the view from the west (from the side of the house). Please note the tulips - no photoshop involved. I bought the bulbs last September in Amsterdam. My son got an immediate liking to the color and shape of the flowers on the bag so he insisted on planting all of them by himself. He did a good job.
This is the side view. The Herb Garden we have is not very large, in fact it is quite small. To be more honest, it is just a fragment of garden to fill in the space between an inward triangle beside the house. It used to be a barren, flat land, devoid of any enjoyable form of life when we moved here 7 years ago. We started mulching and watering it and formed the sides with the help of large limestones.We enjoy spices, herbs and some roses there.

This is a close up of herbs. Can you name them?

a necklace

this I I received for Mothers' Day. All the kids made necklaces this time for their mothers, and a keychain for Fathers's day, which will be held on 10th May.

Mothers' Day

I've learned via the Internet that not every country celebrates this on the first Sunday of May. In fact Hungary is one of the few to hold this fest on this particular date.

Kids, regardless of age pay a visit to their mothers - or at least drop her a phone call.

More often than not, grandmothers are also celebrated by grandkids.

I am fortunate enough to still have one of my two grandmothers alive, she's gonna be 86 this November. She has been living in a special house for elderly since her husband, my grandfather died 3 years ago. I still have a bad feeling about it. Should have it been me, saying yes to accommodate her in our not so very large house? I'm feeling kind of guilty, although noone has ever asked me/us to let her into our house. She can't walk properly now and keeps falling and breaking bones from time to time. The 'house' she's in is run by the Reformed Church and has a 24-hour nurse supersivion. Doctors watch the elderly there every other day I think. The room she has is tidy and not very small.

My mother has a poor health. She would have been unable to take her own mother in. Should have it been me?

My Grandma's living 240 kms away from us. I doubt she would have been willing to go so far away from the town she spent most of her life in, into a new one, with crazy kids around. I pray this solution should be the best for her.

Do you know the (Russian?) tale of the kid, his parents and the very old grandfather?

if you do, just skip the italicized words below- which are the summary of that tale.

There was a family with one little boy, his parents and his grandfather. The parents kept complaining how useless the grandfather really was. For he was weak, he could work no longer out in the fields. For his hands were trembling, he kept spoiling the tablecloth. He needed to be looked after. He took more and more time of the parents. One day the father gave two blankets to the son and told him to escort the grandfather into the woods so that he would no longer be a burden in the family. The father told the boy to give one blanket to use as a bed and the second one as a cover when the grandfather would lie down in the forest. The parents left. When they returned from a hard work from the fields, they found the little boy and one blanket. The father asked about it. The little boy exclaimed he saved the second blanket for the time when his own daddy would be weak and of no use and would give him that blanket when he would send his own son to escort the daddy into the forest. The father, ashamed, went into the woods in search of his own father and took him back to the family house. The grandfather was no longer despised for his weakness and age.

On Mothers' Day, I made a delicious meal for the family, including a special cake that my Grandmother used to make when she was younger. I called her during the day just to say a warm hello for the celebration and told her that the reason I made the cake was to let her being with us. The cake reminded everyone to her and so she was able to be with us, too. She was overwhelmed by the idea, I could tell that from her voice.

When she was much younger and my mother had to go to work, she took me in. From daybreak till dawn my mother left me with her and she took good care of me. She and my grandfather used to have a family house with a garden in the quiet suburbs and my days were always glorious there. Nothing special, but love. Do you need anything more special, anyway? When her feet and hands were aching, I, the little child of that time used to run my fingers and palm over them for a little while to release the pain. She loved that. Everytime I call her her voice changes. She starts with a weak 'yes, who's there?'- barely audible. More often than not the Sun becomes shining again in her voice along our conversation. She's a kind of grandmother one can always turn to - would never, ever reject a child or make fun of its plans and ideas - no matter how strange and idle those might be. Her behaviour taught and still teach us all in the family about acceptance, a positive attitude, strength and faith.

Mami, you'll never gonna read this. You might also never know how guilty I feel, everytime that institution comes into conversation. And I will keep showing my affection and love - as long as I can.This picture above is a combined artifact done in the kindergarten by my daughter. Evrey kid made one picture of his/her own mother. This one depicts me... in a sunny garden with a rainbow. I assume part of Rozi's kind nature is coming from her great-grandmother and I'm proud of it. And will make Rozi proud of it, too.

apologies

Dear friends,
you don't deserve bad manners from me.
So.
It was a bloody toothache that inspired me to write that. Nothing more and nothing less.
And I would like to apologize.
It all started out like a small writing about the feeling the pain evoke within me, and you listened to me and understood me.
I am sorry for making you waiting for that long.
I did not have the intention to play with feelings - the reason I did was that I knew it was not really serious. I knew, but you had no idea what it was. Just an ordinary, though nasty toothache. Had it been something more important, something that carves itself into the marrow, I would have accepted your hugs and kind words.
I truly hope not to loose them in the future.
I do not wish to become the boy in the fable who cried wolf just to entertain himself.
I am sorry.
And I'm making an appointment to the dentist this coming Monday.

pain

Pain:

he enters without using the doorbell,

takes off his jacket and

changes his boots to slippers without asking

helps himself some tea and sits comforted

in my house

Photo: by me, in the Pilis Mountains, April 28, 2007.

5 reasons for blogging

I have been tagged by Anniina.

Reasons for my filling these virtual pages with my words, in no particular order, are:

- I always, or nearly always kept a diary. It is partly a regular excercise, partly a note for me to remember to particular events and feelings and partly a therapist at hand. I often seek and find advice and solace in writing, in letting things out. It's like putting a burden off of one's shoulders. Relieving, keeping a record might show the way ahead, too.

- Although blogging implies a fairly regular activity, a scheduled virtual speech, it allows my impulsive side a freedom, which is not very easily found in my everyday life. A place for development, an air to move freely to and fro. For pampering a more creative me, I love to compose and create effects by pairing certain events/notes with certain photos or pictures. I make mistakes and get over them. I write nice pieces and those will be remembered - provided that virtuality does not eats my things up somehow...my fear...

- For the unawared: I am graphomaniac. Plus I love to see my words on screen. I am no poet or writer or whatever. I just love to write. That's what I think about my words and writing at the moment, that is. And if my words are worth more than a rotten leaf along the ditch than it's a great opportunity to improve my style and selection of words. If this road takes me anywhere...

- I seek company. Whether it's a weak and polite 'hello I'm here' or a stronger voice, it is a connection, a potential friendship, a help, love (type 2). Comments are extremely important for me. Even if some of the entries were designed as solitary laments, reflections are vital.

- Blogging means a separate world for me, a parallel universe, if you like. I've been known as one to be able to accommodate to almost all kinds of situations, but sometimes I get this deep yearning for a getaway. And if the escape is physically obstruted, I'm all in for the discharge of the mind.

And now, the meme ends. I'm done with my fives.

I tag five more people, who have the option to write their own fives, too.

Beth, Bruce, IllMan, Keda, Lucy

Organic food I made

I promised you to get back by Wednesday, but I'm impatient.

Instead of waiting for one more day, I'm telling you a bit about my Sunday, this Sunday, April 29. For most of the day, I was at the organic gardens of the non-profit organisation I used to work for for 3 years.

Each year there are two garden festivals: a spring and a fall (harvest) one. These are little events to help members of the community (farmer and consumer) know each other, to spend some quality time among organic veggies and organic-minded people...

I used to organize those events in the past 3 years, but now I was in charge of cooking.

I have never done something similar - cooking for 30....

and as far as it seemed, it went allright!

This is the Eastern part of the garden. You can see the young fruit trees and the lines of veggies underneath. And on the dirt road, those are my kids.The cooking sort of went on along the use of leftovers from the previous year. Old onion, shrunken root vegetables and potatoes, old packages of brown rice and lots of fresh green oreganos and lovages. I used everything that was available. I think that's what's called 'from scratch' or a low budget cooking.

Here's what I have done, with the help of some volunteering visitors: Ingredients:
vegetable oil
old onion, together with the new springs, chopped
brown rice
carrots, parsnips, parsley roots and some celeriac, sliced
potatoes, diced
garlic, minced

white dried beans, soaked overnight before the day of cooking
1-1 bunches of lovage, oregano and parsley leaves, chopped
water
salt and other spices incl. bay leaves and paprika powder

Preparation:

heat oil and sauté the onions

add rice and sauté, with frequent stirring

add salt and spices

when all the rice is covered in oil and the whole thing is sizzling, add water

and one by one, add all the other ingredients

the fresh leaves and the garlic should come the latest, some 10 minutes before serving

Notes:

I believe quantity played a substantial role in making this particular dish. For 30 servings, I used 15 large carrots, for example. More than 2 kgs of rice was used. Sometimes the same food tastes much better if cooked in vast amounts. I'm also sure that having been cooked above an open fire improved the food.

If you'd like to make something similar, use what you have at hom - that's the main point. If you don't have beans, leave them out.

It is a 'let's-put-everything-available-into-it' type of food. Sometimes these turn out miserable. Sometimes the chef's more lucky.

Bon appetit.

on a hot spring day

the Sun stays out of the shelter of the walnut leaves

where I stand, panting from the midday heat

and the amount of biking I had

oh, summer's here

and it rumbles my hideout from above

photo: by my son, in the Pilis, on 28 April, 2007

we start a 4-day holiday this Saturday. I'll be away, but will be back with lots of photos I hope. On Saturday, we are going on a one-day hiking tour to the Pilis Mountains, on Sunday I will cook as a volunteer at an organic event. Monday and Tuesday will probably go as any other usual days that we spend at home.

Enjoy the photos below and take care. See you on Wednesday, May 2. Bye and have a Happy May Festival.

the new digital camera

Dear all - yes, we did it! We bought the new digital camera! Hooray! Get ready for an overwhelming flow of pictures.

This is Lepke (Butterfly), our only Turken hen at the moment. She displays her typical surprised look here. Note the barren vivid red neck and the yellow feet. She's a beauty - I mean, among Turkens.

This is Hajas (Hairy), the mixed small Japanese with her one week-old chicks. She takes them 'to bed' well before the older animals retire. But kids do need more rest, don't they?

This is a nice pair. Parázs (Live Coal) on the left and Kakas (Roo) on the right. Cock-a-doodle-dooo!

While the human parents were endulged in the pleasure of making photos with the new machine, the kids made dinner for the whole family. My son adjust slices of bread with mustards, while Rozi grates some hard cheese. Roasted cheese sandwich with an electric sandwich maker - voila! Aren't they nice and helpful? And no, they are not doing it on a regular basis. Unfortunately.

The hyper-super macro function of the new camera. One of the reasons we bought this particular model. I think you all know what this pic is about, but I' d like to hear you guessing - if playing along was within your cards for the day. All notions will be answered.

Canon PowerShot 460, welcome to my world.

On request: love and love

This is a post I am quite late with. I promised working on it to Anniina but I'm sure it will please those of you out there also, who have an appetite for linguistics and hidden meaning of words.

Let's set up definitions love type1 and type2. Type1 is for a love that is between married couples and in general, between a man and a woman. Some more 'up-to-date' persons might add some other combinations to the list, but this is my blog. Type2 however is something one usually feels towards his/her children, God, friends, fellow beings - provided that said person has any of those.

In the Hungarian language there are two words for the feeling(s) that the English compounds as 'love'. These are nouns and I admit, that if we need the verb form, the verb is the same for both feelings.

The English says:

'I love you' - and upon circumstances and speakers the reader/listener decides whether it is love type1 or type2.

The Hungarian says:

'Szeretlek' - and the situation is the same, although the Hungarian, being an agglutinative language, needs only one word for what the English uses three. But that's not my point. Not now.

But behold, when it comes to nouns.

The English says:

'love' - and one decides whether the speaker/writer refers to type1 or type2. Is it a love between a man and his dog or his womanly partner? between friends or very good friends?

The Hungarian on the other hand, says:

'szerelem'- for type1

'szeretet' - for type2.

Most of our original words have their own roots and thus, one (who's not brainwashed enough) might dig into words in search of something treasured - and usually there is a find to excavate for.

You might have noticed that both of our nouns start with 'szer' and end up differently: 'etet' and 'elem'. Got that, right?

'szer' is a very difficult word to describe - even for most Hungarians it has lost its original meaning. We still have this root, though in words like 'szerszám' - meaning instrument, utensil, tool. In which the 'szám', means 'a piece of'. And also in 'szervez' - meaning 'to organize'. In which the 'vez' - might be a shortened form for 'leading/leader'.

I conclude 'szer' being a noun that refers to something that is not really physical, but essential. If you perform a ritual, you participate a 'szer'. Think of the English (though Latin-derived) ceremony. See the 'szer' at the beginning of the word?

'szer' is a ceremony, during which on can practice rites and his/her beliefs.

Now, let's get back to the back of the loves, type1 and2.

'elem' - (noun) means particle, component, piece of, factor, unit.

I conclude that this addition makes 'szerelem' (love, type1) something of a ritual that is part of a higher ceremony.

'etet' - (verb) means to feed, to supply one with food. (on a side note: 'itat' - (verb) means to supply one with water...pls note the t-t's in both verbs)

Following my logic towards the creation of Hungarian expressions, this turns 'szeretet' (love, type2) to a rite that nourishes. A sequence and package of events and feelings that leaves one fed and comforted. It is inevitable if one is to live and develop.

Your turn: can you name any other language, be it real or fictional, alive or long forgotten, where the same phenomenon exists? And if your native language is not English, please inform me/us about the word for love. And love.

I set my mind not to bother you with pronounciation, as that's not the main issue here. However, if you are interested in how to say aloud these Hungarian words, just go ahead and ask me.

Budapest, Hungary 21 April 2007

People went out to the streets again, but no violence took place. The speakers implied the formation of a shadow-government. Nothing factual and positive was really heard or said.

Photos are taken from HírtTv - one of our national online medias.

Post#250 - did you know?

Although this is not the latest news, this clip makes you think about how really fast our world is. Can we possibly run any faster towards the precipice?

Off with my pessimism.... the music that accompanies the facts is enthralling, I just love it.

project or not project

The lady I was supposed to work with on the eco-consciousness project rejected my helping her out by calling my continuous shower of emails towards her a 'harrassment'. I do not wish her to live through what a harrassment really is, for I am against bad wish and revenge. But I might not work on the project with her any longer.

Seems reasonable, isn't it?

UPDATE: Two emails later with this lady, I sent a letter to the organizers that 'upon mutual agreement', I no longer take part in the event. That being said, I'm happy for not having to work with her.

Really, there are many kinds of people I can put up with. Many, but this one.

And for those who love my photograpy, here's a nice one.

This is my husband's feet in 2004, April in the Pilis Mountains.

fallen

in your temple
a sigh parts my lips as
I try to recollect myself
from the debris I catch inside
as I watch the leaves gracefully bathing in sunshine
I feel education and civilization
leaking out of my body,
creeping out
like little worms
they bore themselves out at
the tip of my fingers
and as they leave
I'm finding the thing again
I'm finding you
and within you - me
how I come to loose the connection every once in a while?

the project

I'm working on a conscioussness-raising evening about environmental issues. It will be held on 25 April by a women's group, called 'Regina'. This means that the target audience is composed of present or future mothers, those who work and those who have small children at home.

This little rambling here hopefully helps me to gather my thoughts and redirect my ever-wandering mind to the topic.

This event is one piece of the series the Regina organizes this year. Each month, a certain disabled or disadvantaged group is targeted. The first month was about the countryside and the hardship pheasants or generally, people living in the countryside feel and experience. I did not attend that evening, though. The March evening was about women - what roles do we have, what are the prejudices connected with each role. The April event is about 'environmentalist' in general.

Well, yes, I feel being an environmentalist makes me quite disabled, too. At least in the eye of those who feel obeying some laws and restricting ourselves is a disadvantage.

A week or so ago I saw the film by Al Gore called 'The Inconvenient Truth'. At home we have the 'Day After Tomorrow' on CD.

I'm thinking of the Ten Indian Commandments to incorporate into the speech and also some fine poetry by Reményik Sándor. (Poor Wikipedia dear, this time I so disagree with your emphasizing how not indian this might be. How confusinig this compilation of wise words might be for those who seek real indian traditions. Oh, yes of course. But for those who seek wisdom and disregard its source your punctuality might be deterring...)

At the same time this project is not to call attention for the need to become more conscious about the environment. I take this as granted. Do you, too?

So this event is about ....

a single person's responsibilities and duties?

the conditions and/or activities of the environmentally concerned activists and/or organizations?

the role of parents and/or institutions?

the state our environment is in at the moment? (who am I to detail and display that, anyway?)

the need for more action towards a healthier and more sustainable living? (C'mon you all mothers, just let your cars outside and start walking home?)

suggestions as to the methods of survival once it all crashes and there will be no environment to take care about? (am I to act like a nasty prophet?)

I think if I had the answer to that I'd be better off.

Your ideas?

Either about this green project OR about buying a Canon PowerShot 460. Or both.

hatching time

We have 11 tiny feathery balls around in the hen-yard. It appears that the 21 days of brooding is over. Well done, Hajas! (She is the brooding hen, pronounce her name as Huh-yush)

Some of the chicklets are hers, but most of them genetically belong to some other hens of ours.

Back to the babies:

One of them is gray, one is brown, two are yellow, and the rest are black-ish. Those will turn barred I assume. The following chicklets have already been given names by us: the richer yellow one, which is also the bigger of the yellows is 'Gombóc' (meaning 'Ball') the other, whitish, smaller one is 'Fagyi' (that is 'Icecream' in English). The gray one's 'Felhő' ('Cloud') - it is my favourite. The brownish-orange one is called 'Caramel' ('Fudge').

Our own pictures will be coming soon - as we are planning to buy a digital camera this evening!

UPDATE: we went to one shop and found a Canon that would suit us. But we'll have to check in some other shops as well.

visual dna

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

Some notes:

first of all, I would like to warmly thank Bart and Anniina for their love-filled comments when I was really down. I am much better now - seems thing have gotten back into a normal mode again. I wouldn't have guessed that just back in Friday... I had no idea re:how to go on at all... it all seemed to meaningless and at the same time I knew leaving was just as much meaningless... But the thing below (call it a poem if you like) just tells it a bit better...

secondly, the test comes via Melly.

and now it's time for some analysis.

My art:

I had a hard time choosing between the shell and the Mona Lisa. And also I find the culinary art is also an art, while I also enjoy the arts of body: martial arts, parkour, gymnastics. People can do marvellous things with their bodies - and what I really value that behind a perfect physical performance there must always be a perfect harmony between mind and body. And that is art. A very precious one. So why did I choose the painting?

My kind of excitement:

outdoor activities energize me. Recently I've heard that there are some natural antidepressant bacterias dwelling in the soil. Whether it's true or not - I've heard many people speaking about gardening making them calm and relaxed and happy, so there must be something about it! After all, when that's when one's connected directly to Mother Earth- and that tells it all.

I would like to:

Meditation, yes. But a little bit of chocolate might also come. Like one piece before meditation and the second one after meditation.

My freedom:

I've chosen the picture that might look ideal as a holiday. But also I might have chosen the open road with lots of clear undisturbed sky above. Once I took part in a road stroll, back in 1991 and oh, those weeks are unforgettable.

My treat:

Something delicious would do. But I also like a hot shower anytime of the day. Also, regardless of my mood I like to so some singing along. But that was not among the possibilites in this test. I would picturize it with someone mouth wide open, eyes closed, neighbours shaking fists....

My love:

Affection and caring. Long lasting and true. Based on mutual agreements and understanding. Complete honesty and loyalty.

My landscape:

Although I'm getting a liking towards water, and air, I chose the forest one. If there were a creek in this picture, that would make the perfect one. At the same time I feel extremely comfortable with heights and hiking among rocks as well. But the forest is what calls me back. Rocks are my lovers, the forest is my home.

My holiday:

In the high mountains, with a partner as a company. A slow and fully explorative holiday, with mild weather (set the temperature between 0 and 15) and lots of walking in the wild. With some chocolate in the backpack.

My vice:

Have you not already guessed? Also, I'm addicted to blogging. I hope you don't mind.

My music:

Rock events are not for me. I like my music at home or at a concert hall.

My drink:

Although I like some good red wine too and we have great ones in the country, I chose the drink I have on a daily basis. Hot herb tea, with nothing added - nothing to spoil the natural taste.

My bedroom:

I like when a room has its clearly defined function. A room for sleeping and some other adult activities schould not be a kitchen at the same time, for example. this is not how we really live at the moment, for our bedroom serves as a bedroom for the kids as well and for the daytime, it is the living room as well, but I'm hoping for a real bedroom. Will I enjoy it as much as I imagine I would now? Time will tell.

discard me, I'm sick

I have had too much
of spring's warmth, of promises of growth, of forecoming starry nights
for they are a lie
and it's the end that's coming -
everything's determined to fail
vanishing clueless and blindfolded

in the secret chamber
winter is what I'm yearning for
when frost pierces through the bones
when structures are clean and neat
and everything's open and new
and free

and in the book of my faces
disturbed, I turn the pages
the yellow one vomits
the black one howls
the white one whistles
the silver one cries

and no matter how I anticipate
and how long I search
the pink one, the shiny golden one
the joyeous face
just does not float up among the bleak ones

I wish the gate to be opened
the flesh to be abandoned
the visceral left behind
the guts cast aside
freed
up high again
high and safe, rescued

but there's no salvation
without me
my other lives
would be just as much filled with myself
unless
I change
this thing that is not really me

I am me and not me
I am better than me
I am far worse than I really am
I am split
and I am one
with everything

and this shall, too pass
and this shall linger till the end
of all times

in a certain mood

Freddie King performs Bill Wither's 'Ain't no sunshine when she's gone'. Brilliantly.

Poetry Day

April 11 has been Poetry Day since 1964 in Hungary. This special day was created in honor of József Attila, who was one of our greatest poets. Today day is his birthday.
If you are interested on facts about his life, and have the time to read a brilliant translation of some of his poetry, visit this. It is pdf file, and it takes some time to load, but it's worth it.

He was labelled as a believer of communism, a politically left-sided poet, who cared about the distress of the proletariat. This is the official opinion about his work. There are many, including skilled gnosticists and alchemists who believe that there's more to that. Some of his poems reveal the way he was blessed/burdened with such an insight into the matter of things and to ultimate reasons. He looked deeper and found more than an average person might do. Politically and spiritually alike.

The official saying goes that his schizophrenia (a split personality disease) was the main reason he committed suicide at age 43 - but there might be more than that, too.

And finally, he, besides Remenyik Sándor, is my favourite Hungarian poet. Translating József Attila would be too much of a task for me and I would definitely be in need of a native speaker's sensitive help... When I was a teenager, I learned some of his poems by heart. Those I have forgotten, but everytime I re-read them, they ring a special tone. They are burnt within me.

Now I'm leaving you - some work, a lunch and some reading. On Poetry Day - some poetry.

personal dna

My personal dna report is over here.

die and reborn - a prayer for Easter

the backwoods are pulling me in
and in I come to get lost
I want to get disintegrated within
to loose it all
I want to be the daybreak dew on the leaves
that gets soaked up by the first rays of the Sun -

the water is calling me

and here I enter the surface to get dissolved

I want to float awhile then sink

to infiltrate the depths

I want to be a flake of water on the surface

that gets burnt by the midday Sun -

flame is inviting me

and I introduce myself into the purity of fire

I need to die

for I want to live

I want to be the dust that swirls amongst the blaze

that gets swept away at Setting Sun -

wind is taking me

and I let myself be taken

I need new horizons

to understand the old ones

I want to be the night whisper of the forest

that remembers the Sun.

Happy Easter

We'll be away with a company of good Hungarians. We will visit a place between River Tisza and Bodrog. I hope to make nice pictures there and to share them with...you? or with myself as this place seems to be as alone as the most dense corner of an abandoned forest. Well, if that's where I'm living, so shall it be.
In my 'preface to the Tale of the Crow' I mentioned a 'news' that schocked me.
This happened last Sunday (1 April) but it was not a Fools' Day joke.

It was a report from an astrologist expert, based on my birth circumstances (exact date and location, you know how it goes.) While I assume most (if not all) of the atrology thingy of magazines are randomly selected crap, real astrology is a science, and stars and constellations do have an influence on our dispositions and approaches. Now, this lady, who made my report was so extremely on the spot re: my habits, feelings, good and bad thing alike - it might have been as well written by myself as well. It wasn't the usual and blah 'you like a job done well and you work hard' type of description. It did have insights into my real self - at least as far as I've been knowing and learning myself in the past 30-something years.

The most embarrassing and shocking, well, fact was that that referred to the main purpose of my life. Accordig to the belief, which I can not reject, which I believe in, one chooses his/her parents and his/her own way of life well before one's born.

This purpose might be 'spreading information and teaching people' - as it was in the case of my husband. Surprise, surprise - he's a teacher. But he grabs every single occasion to educate any people on any subject, to spread the knowledge.

One quickie: the astrologist had NO knowledge of my husband and me, just the time and location of birth.

Well, my goal was this: 'family'.

And this shocked me.

Partly b/c I was hoping for 'artistic improvement', 'self-development', 'self-education', 'spiritual development', 'achievement in some professional field' or something along these lines. And 'Family' shocked me partly b/c this is the exact are of my life where I feel biased, weak. Whenever possible, I try to avoid things that are strictly family issues. I don't feel like being a good mother at all. I've never been the type the Hungarians call 'hen-mother', referring to a mother who always takes care of her kids, of which she has many, she always ask about waht food/care can she possibly give to her kids, whose kids come up for her for comfort...who's always feeling love, who's warmth radiates through the house... I hope you got the meaning here.

I've been always considered a somehow cold mother...which does not seem really good, but that is how/what I am...

Now comes this astrology report, with all the things being correct about me....

I was literally sick on absorbing that....

I guess it's b/c the medication we need the most feels the bitterest...

b/c the thing we need the most as a medication is the one we want to avoit the most...

here I come...

this is what I am...

a preface to The Tale of the Crow

***I've been yearning to write a tale for so long. A tale to entertain kids and adults alike.

***This one was conceived during a walk through the forest with Rozi. We were listening to birds and Rozi came up with most of the ideas that were incorporated into the story. The fairies were also coming from her mind. I was just like, interpreting her ideas. I believe she would become a talented writer once she would be able to write :) - but her mind is already full with lots of ideas and characters as of now.

***I started writing the story around 20-21 March and once more, during another walk, we elaborated on the line of events and characters. That was when the Fairies entered the story.

***I started it with great enthusiasm, but somehow my inspiration faded away. I am really not content with the ending. I had an alternative ending with the Crow being extremely desperate and depressed. But I rejected the idea of introducing the notion of suicide into a miraculous story like this. Instead, I opted for a happier ending.

***Also, during writing (which took some weeks), I had a news that somehow depressed me (more about that comes later on) and perhaps this fact/news influenced me in 1) not being inspired and free-spirited in writing anymore 2) wanting to add a sorrowful ending.

***But I hope you like it anyway.

I wrote this preface to make some things clear and to make myself remember to the circumstances of writing.

The Tale of the Crow

- inspired by and written for Rozi, for her seventh birthday -

At the beginning of times, when all animals used to live in a vast forest, all birds were singing gracefully. Some started at the dimmest sight of the first rays of Sun, some waited until it finally broke up into the middle of the clear sky. Some sang constantly, stopping only to pick a worm or two to full their stomach with, some sang every now and then and some sang only if there was something to really sing about.

Back at those times, all the birds sang. Those we hear and enjoy today like the Robin, the Blackbird and the Thrust among the spikey branches of green pines that reach the clouds... Every singly bird had its tune. Even the Crow sang, too.

The Crow had a powerful voice. Everytime it opened its beaks the rest of the birds quitted for a while. They felt the strength coming from the Crow's song and they were reassured that everything went allright in the forest so they were able to resume their respective duties. The Crow sang nicely, like a trumpet, or a timbal. It was like a calling for march.

The Crow did not sing much, though. He sang dutifully but not very often.

What we, people do not normally know is that each and every bird has it's own sheet of music - it is like a guidance for singing with each note neatly scored. That is how they sing and that is how it was back in those times. The Crow had his own note sheet, too. It was on an enourmous maple leaf. Or was it an oak perhaps? It was huge. And brown.

The birds did not usually carry their sheets with themselves- they used to keep them somewhere near their nests.

Oh, and about how did the birds initially got their music sheets. Of course they were handed out one by one by the Forest Fairie. Those birds who were residing in the forest, of course. And for those who lived out of the forest, out in the great meadow, the Rainbow Fairie came all by herself. Once it was raining and the Sun was shining, too - a rainbow appeared and with it came the Fairie. She had her rainbow-colored gown on and her hair was of the colours of the rainbow, too. Imagine the magic wand she had was also of rainbow color.

So, each bird was assigned by sheets of notes.

Every bird, but the Sparrow.

For the Sparrow, being a constant seeker and eater of small grains, was busy elsewhere. He was eating the food that had been scattered in front of the Hens in the henyard. He heard the calling, but was afraid of the rain - he did not have a strong coat of feathers, you know. So instead of rushing towards meeting the Rainbow Fairie, as all the other birds did, he stayed and had his portion of grains. When he finished, both fairies were gone. There were no more handing out of musical sheets. The Sparrow was sad. He was silent for he had no tune of whatsoever on a leaf.

And his sadness slowly turned into anger. He seeked for an occassion. Seeking kept him alive. Revenge boiled his head, spoiled his feelings and poisoned his heart.

One day, the Crow was holding his note-leaf among his claws while sitting high on a walnut tree beside the meadow. He saw that the Sparrow was watching him from the ground, but took no real notice. He kept singing. And he sang forcefully. Buds sprang out with joy and little blades of grass broke through last year's litter under bushes at hearing him, the Crow. It was the Spring's Song he sang.

And when it was over the Sparrow was high up above the Crow among the branches. Immersed in singing, he did not notice it.

- Good morning, Crow. What a nice song you have - bowed the Sparrow as out of courtesy.

- 'ning Sparrow. Thank you.

-It feels so good that you have that nice song. I wish I had something half as much valueable. - the Sparrow continued.

The Crow did not answered for he knew what the Sparrows were. He took off and headed towards the forest.

As he was flying above a blackthorn a bunch of other sparrows rocketed out of the bush. The Crow was surprised and the momentary hesitation just seemed perfect for the gang. They advanced him from every possible direction. All he managed to care about was his own life and the precious note on that oak leaf. The sparrows started attacking him now. The Crow loved his song so very much that in the fear of loosing it he drew a long sight on the note. In doing so, and very unfortunately too, he lost his balance and in re-gaining control he lost the leaf. It was now drifting deeper and deeper into the thick bush. And then more and more sparrows came and each and every one of them tried to get hold of the valueable leaf. They fight over the note, not paying any attention to the Crow at all anymore.

What happened to the leaf?

The sparrows took it apart. Each and every Sparrow had his part and was quite content with it. On each of those particles there were only one or two notes left. But the Sparrow knew it had been part of the song - The Great Song - as they called it. This is what sparrows keep reciting to this very day. A note or two. And they feel gratified.

What happened to the Crow?

He was silent for a short time. His thoughts burnt his heart. He kept wondering what he had done wrong. Had he been braver would have the sparrows left him? Had he been smarter, would the leaf have not fallen into the bush? He kept repeating those questions until he finally stopped.

He felt that the passion and love he had perceived and lived through while singing the Tune has somehow left him. He tried to sing the song, though, from his memory. It came out like a cracking, like a tin jar in an empty chamber. From that time on, the Crow preferred to wander alone, in castaway places. His discontent has now wore off, but he remembers how his song used to be. And althought he still keeps lamenting about the loss he suffered, he does it in a cautionary tone.

If you see the Crow, don't despise him for his croak. Remember the song he used to have and send his spirit cheerful wishes. He needs it.

a reply to Beth and IllMan

I thought I'd make a separate entry for replying your concerns.
It's not that I'd want to make excuses, nor that I'd want to defend myself.
I try to make it as short as possible.

I agree that teachers are responsible for their kids while they are at school. Anything might happen as kids often tease each other to do various and sometimes dangerous activities. Sometimes kids do things for showing how skillfull they are. I assume the 'dare you do it' effect plays also a very important role in most of these events. They might push each other into doing things they would not do otherwise.

And here comes my part.

I as a mother, do not feel biased in knowing my son. For most of his time he is with me. For most of his time he doesn't want and can't do things without some parent's assistance. He's not handicapped in a physical way, but he gets bored easily and needs a lot of guidance through the various aspects of life. He is interested in a lot of things. Provided that he can have his own way, he'd choose playing/talking with his parents over playing alone. And even if he's playing alone, one of his ears is always with us. We have a small house so there's no hiding (in any way) possible.

Furthermore, he always play safe. He's 10 and I have never ever witnessed him doing anything out of virtue. Whatever he does, he strives for safety. If something blocks him, he gives up and retreats. Plus, he's never been seen panicking. Had he been stucked in between the bars, for instance, he would have stayed calm and waited for some assistance to come.

I am a 100% sure of what I have written about him.

At the same time, had it been any other child, including my daughter, the situation would have seemed really dangerous. Had I heard of any other child doing the same thing, I would have been caused nightmares.

I'm sorry for making it this long, but I think making it clear was well worth it.