how to be alone

A video by filmmaker, Andrea Dorfman, and poet/singer/songwriter, Tanya Davis.

~Society is afraid of alonedom, like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements, like people must have problems if, after a while, nobody is dating them. But lonely is a freedom that breaths easy and weightless and lonely is healing if you make it...

Happy ♥ Day everyone!

Sources:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k7X7sZzSXYs
http://www.tanyadavis.ca
http://www.andreadorfman.com

rescuing art

When World War II ended, a group of men and women began hunting for works of art inside salt mines, caves and castles. They found more than 6,500 pieces in a salt mine near Salzburg, including Da Vinci’s “Lady with an Ermine”. In another German mine, they uncovered a Rembrandt self-portrait, along with others hidden there by the museums. The atmosphere in these caves, cool temperatures and moisture in the air, helped in preserving the paintings. It also protected them against the war, the bombs, the Nazis and the looting.

Who are these people so committed to saving our art?

They.. are the Monuments Men..   (superhero entrance music plays)

Kidding aside, these people are real life heroes that played a crucial role during WWII. They hid art, sometimes even moved it to different places, and risked their lives in doing so. Here's an excerpt from monumentsmen.com:


The “Monuments Men”, were a group of approximately 345 men and women from thirteen nations who comprised the MFAA section during World War II. Many were museum directors, curators, art historians, artists, architects, and educators. Together they worked to protect monuments and other cultural treasures from the destruction of World War II. In the last year of the war, they tracked, located, and in the years that followed returned more than five million artistic and cultural items stolen by Hitler and the Nazis. Their role in preserving cultural treasures was without precedent.

Today, like the art they protected and found, there is an ongoing quest for the stories of their lives.  The Monuments Men Foundation is now in its fifth year of research for their bios.  Some are already complete, some only with pictures, while others are still just a name.  Click here to help out.  Who knows, maybe you'll find you knew one of them all along.

Sources:
http://www.monumentsmenfoundation.org
http://www.popmatters.com/pm/article/little-known-monuments-men-hunted-art-treasures-stolen-by-nazis/
http://www.wikipedia.com

little light

Whenever I start to write a poem or a story, I always need to find a song or any piece of music that matches it.  I play it again and again while writing. It's like wine to my muse.

So today, I needed to submit a writing exercise to the Internet writing workshop. The theme of the week was "Little light of mine":

In 400 words or less write a scene that takes place on the night of the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year, and show us someone or something bringing light into the darkness.

I had no idea what I was going to write. So I thought of things that light up: candles, light bulb, sunlight, and then I got it-- fireworks!  Then I remembered a song I heard from a Taiwanese boyband:

I don't speak Chinese and yet this song managed to bring a story out of me. Music is wonderful that way, yes?   I kept playing it over and over the whole day, even though I didn't understand a word.  Here's the little scene that I wrote, I hope you all like it-- I do. Thanks F4!  Happy New Year everyone!

Two small figures ran to the playground. "Hurry up! Someone might see us!"
The girl felt her heart pound. She was tired.
"Faster, fat ass." the boy whispered.
She glared at him. "My parents will kill me if they found out about this."
"I know." he said and smiled.
"I hate you."
He laughed. She always made him feel better about being an orphan. He sat on the ground and watched her lumber.
"Hey, that's the watch that you wanted."
She looked at the pink glow-in-the-dark watch on her arm. "Yeah, my sister gave it to me this Christmas. Jealous?"
"Please, it's a girl's watch. What time is it?", he said.
She pushed up her glasses and looked again. "Uh.. it's late."
"Really, what time?"
"Like, bedtime late."
"Like, what exact time?"
"Like time for you to shut up that's what!"
He laughed so hard, he fell back on the snow. He barely felt the snowball that hit him in the chest. His laughter echoed, probably all the way to The Home. He didn't care.
Suddenly, she was standing over him, hands at her hips.
"Did you bring a lighter?"
"Yeah." she said.
He stood up and opened his backpack. There were four small skyrockets inside. One of the kids at the orphanage knew someone who knew someone who made them.
"This is going to be awesome."
"I know!"
He set them carefully on the ground and then bowed at her. She booed him.
"Alright, I'll let you have the first one. Then I'll go, then you again." he said.
Her smile faded. She took out the lighter, images of blood and burnt hands came to her mind. She looked at him, afraid. He took the lighter from her hand.
"Sorry."
He waved his hand. "Hey, if you're scared you might do something wrong. I don't want you to lose your arm. How else can you wear that pretty watch and tell the time?"
She laughed and punched him in the chest.
"Alright here goes." He lit the wick of the first one. "Stand back!"
They ran and covered their ears. The rocket made a hissing sound and shot upwards. They screamed and hugged each other as it burst in the night sky, forming a brilliant ball of gold. A cold winter wind blew at them, yet they had never felt this warm before.

christmas gifts

There's this great article on sltrib.com that listed their readers' most memorable Christmas gift. Here's my favorite:

Timeless pictures
A few years ago my husband took his 3rd grade school photo and my 2nd grade photo (both from 1959) and had them framed with photos of our two girls from their second and third grade years. It vividly shows how our older daughter strikingly resembles me and our younger daughter takes after her father. It’s priceless. — Sally Loken

The Christmas gift that I remember the most was the one from my mother. It was back in high school, at the height of my craze for anything horror: books, movies, tv shows, anything. Everyone didn't get it, my room was full of it and my mother, especially, loathed it. She thought it was creepy. But what did she give me for Christmas? A mystery novel with a big skull at the cover.

Merry Christmas everyone!

in bloom

My mom bought these flowers made of recycled materials at a bazaar. They look better than plastic flowers. I'm trying to find out who made these. My sister said they came from Baguio but she didn't know the actual name of the shop that sold them. I found a blog entry here; it's about paper roses created by Women’s Livelihood Organization of Imelda Village in Baguio but I wasn't sure it was them, but still, kudos to them as well!

If anyone out there knows please tell me, so I can give them proper credit and an award! Very creative!

phone cords, styrofoam
and magazines

vase made of recycled paper

paper hibiscus

straw roses

flowers made of Coke, Royal
and Sprite wrappers

when it rains, it pours

I'm still not over celebrating the news that I won a storywriting contest, when I received an email yesterday saying that one of my poems have been included in a collection to be launched this Saturday! Whew, that was long! :D. The collection is entitled "Tag-ulan" (rainy season, the one we're having right now here in Pinas) and I think most of the poems (I know mine is) will be about the rain.

Each experience, each move, each mistake made and lesson learned, is a step closer to my goal.  Have faith everyone!  Never stop trying!

sweet triumph

I started telling stories when I was in Grade Six. One of my best friends and I had a "running" scary story about our batchmates. We made some of them into monsters (like an aswang), some were victims, one of them was a doctor (Dr. Chingchong). Whenever we were together we'd just talk and add parts to it, develop characters and relationships, act out scenes. It's like gossiping about other people except doing it more creatively haha. We never wrote it down, but my friend made a comic strip for one of the characters. Good times.

I think that was where it all started. When I got to college, I started writing short stories. I did it secretly. I pressed Alt+Tab whenever someone was coming. I wrote and printed all of them and had them bound. I have three hardbound books, two collection of short stories and one novel. Aside from that, I have a collection of 50 poems that I never got to print. The books are in one of the cabinets in my bedroom, hidden away.

I tried joining all sorts of things. Contests, workshops, organizations, publications. Nothing happened-- for almost a decade.  It was a long exhausting fight to make myself better and to prove to myself that I can write. I bought and read books and internet articles on the basics of writing. Two years ago, I joined a year long poetry clinic held by LIRA. It was open for everyone. We had lectures and workshops during weekends and I got to know a lot of people with the same interest. At the end of it, I was accepted as a probationary member of the organization, which means I still need to improve a lot. I also subscribed to the internet writing workshop to improve my writing skills in English. Then, of course, I started this blog.

I remember one night, I was thinking about everything I was doing and where my life was going. I felt so tired of my life.  I began crying. I muffled my wails with a pillow. I was so worn out and hopeless, I got rejected every time I tried.  My life was a big failure.  Sooner or later I will have to give this up and I didn't know what to do.

They say that the darkest hour is right before dawn. I was ready to throw in the towel when I received a text message saying that one of my entries to a nationwide storywriting contest won. They were going to publish it into a children's book.  They assigned an artist to illustrate my story and they need me to meet with them within the next few weeks to discuss the production.  Best of all, the stories that won will serve as a way to educate children about health.

I attended the awarding ceremony last week. I got a medal and some more prizes. One of the organizers said that people cried when they read my story. I thanked her and she thanked me for joining. I felt so overwhelmed, I cried in front of her. This is it. I'm in heaven.

I remembered Steve Jobs' speech about the dots connecting. It was amazing. I never thought my volunteer and writing efforts would one day be connected. The story that I wrote was based on a girl that I took care of in a summer camp for special children. Thank you, Kaye.

I'm glad that I kept going and I never gave up. I almost did though. It's very hard to dedicate yourself to something that doesn't guarantee any returns. It drained me emotionally, mentally and physically. But I'm happy that I took the risk and it paid off big. I'm grateful that my prayers were answered and I had one sister that believed in me. Thank you, Sherl. Thank you very much for encouraging me and critiquing my work and just being there for me.

For those other writers out there, please don't give up. Just keep working on your craft and keep improving yourself. Continue studying and being committed to the work.  Be open to criticism and never stop learning.  Get out and experience life, soon you'll see the dots connecting.  Most of all, pray and be sure to share your blessings, believe in others as well :).

@ the awarding ceremony

hapag ng pag-asa (table of hope)

The models were real life pinoy street children, except for one. The child at the bottom was taken after a famous photograph by Kevin Carter, but it was a vulture waiting instead of a cat. This was just one of the stories behind it.

The painter, Joey Velasco, didn't have any formal education in the arts. He started out as a seminarian, but it didn't work out. Then he studied law but dropped out later. He then took on his family's upholstery business and there, it seemed, he found his calling. He became a successful entrepreneur, made tons of money, bought a lot of things, played golf everyday. Life was good for him, until he was diagnosed with a serious illness in 2005.

Doctors found a tumor in his kidney. He had to undergo an operation where his left kidney was removed. He sank into a deep depression and refused to come out of their guest room. In an interview with Probe Profiles, he said that he felt his life at a standstill and the world is moving on without him. He did not know what to do with himself.

As the saying goes, the darkest hour is just before dawn. Alone (and bored) in the room, he began sketching. He documented his emotions and ideas on paper. It sparked a new kind of interest. He started to paint. He researched and tried to learn more about the arts, and it was at this time that he conceptualized "Hapag ng Pag-asa".

His basic goal was to teach his children the value of food. He set out and gave pansit (noodles) to street children and photographed them eating it. They thought he was a politician because he was giving out food.  Once he had his twelve, he began the work. It took him about a month and a half to finish.

The painting was a hit. People were surprised that it was done by someone who was just starting to learn the discipline. A lot of them were moved and wanted to donate. Joey approached Gawad Kalinga to ask for help on building houses for his models. He provided them with shelter and even gave money for school supplies. He visited them often, and through them he found his meaning.

"There's something beyond this flat canvas.", he said.

When the houses were built, he did another painting of them called "Hapag ng Pag-ibig" (Table of Love).

A rich philanthropist once approached him to buy the painting. Joey agreed and they planned on putting it in a museum. He told this to his family and they gave their consent. But later in the day, Joey received a letter from his eldest son, asking him if he could buy the painting instead, and his payment? The promise that he will grow up to be a good man. It was a done deal.

Joey passed away last July 20.  He was once asked if he ever thought of death and he said, "everyday, every stroke, every time I paint, I always think of death".  His thoughts of dying led him to live, and because of it he saved other lives and inspired many of us.  Hapag ng Pag-asa was his most well-known piece, an incredible painting done by a man, but beyond the flat canvas is a more complex masterpiece that only God can create.

Sources:
http://www.joeyvelasco.net/
http://www.probetv.com/

what makes a dad

God took the strength of a mountain, The majesty of a tree, The warmth of a summer sun, The calm of a quiet sea, The generous soul of nature, The comforting arm of night, The wisdom of the ages, The power of the eagle's flight, The joy of a morning in spring, The faith of a mustard seed, The patience of eternity, The depth of a family need, Then God combined these qualities, When there was nothing more to add, He knew his masterpiece was complete, And so, he called it Dad. ~unknown

stories on canvas

I want to share this beautiful story I found about a boy and his father's jeepney. The illustrations are incredible. Just click on the image below to begin reading.

butterfly alphabet

I'm back!

My first find is Kjell Sandved's Butterfly Alphabet. It's an amazing collection of photos, composed of letters and numbers found on the wings of butterflies and moths.



Kjell, an author and researcher, was trying to put together a new encyclopedia about animals. He
went to the Smithsonian to buy archive photographs but instead found the silver letter, "F", on the wings of an orange Sphinx moth. The moth was in a cuban cigar box, hidden in a corner of an attic in the National Museum of Natural History. He decided to drop his animal encyclopedia project, and chose to capture all letters and numbers on moth and butterfly wings instead.

There was a problem though: “I had hardly clicked a camera before,” Kjell relates, “and knew nothing about photography.” So he studied, and it took him two years to learn still and movie photography. During this time, he and a friend created customized electronic gear from scraps found in a nearby WWII Navy Yard surplus.

In his quest to find the letters and numbers, he travelled to the forests of the Amazon, the Congo, Papua New Guinea and the Philippines. He survived malaria, snakebite, leeches, numerous jungle ants and rabid dog bites. The easiest letters to find were O, C, D, I, L and M. This is because according to him, "Design elements in nature, tend to go toward symmetry." Asymmetrical letters, like B, H, K, Q, T and X required more time. His biggest challenge is the letter G. He found it on the wing of the Catagramma butterfly. It took him 24 years to complete the collection.

The discovery was featured in the then new Smithsonian magazine. They created posters and slogans for Queen Elizabeth II and Emperor Hirohito during their visits to the institution. It also boosted interest in butterfly gardening and rearing. Today, the poster is also used by some as a tool in teaching the alphabet to children.

Kjell found letters and numbers in other plants and animals as well. Here's a leaf in the shape of the letter F. He found this near a fisherman's hut in Fiji. See the others here.



He says modern man has lost his ability to appreciate the small things in nature. He's worried this is already happening to children. "They have so little access to real things because they're taken away from the land. In the cities, with only concrete and steel, it's worst." Through his butterfly alphabet, a child can learn to read and at the same time, appreciate the incredible beauty of nature.

That is something that never fails to amaze Kjell, even with his decades of experience. There is a line from Roethke printed in his posters: "All finite things reveal infinitude."

"This is one of the deepest statements I can think of that has ever been uttered in science and life," he says. "The more I learn, the more I see that I'm totally ignorant." Our brains, according to him, are like boxes, it can be hard to think outside of what we are comfortable with. So instead of trying to figure it all out, he just watches in amazement. He chases and captures all the world's wonders in his photographs.

Sources:
http://www.sciencenewsforkids.org/articles/20051116/Feature1.asp
http://www.butterflyalphabet.com/story/index.php
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butterfly_Alphabet
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kjell_B._Sandved
http://www.webcitation.org/5XnAYXRQ7

little surprises

Days before my birthday I received a postcard from our town's vice-mayor. I didn't even know who our vice-mayor was. I know it must have something to do with the upcoming elections and he probably just pulled my name out of a list, but it was still a pleasant surprise for me. It was an early greeting and it came from someone really unexpected.



Then, around 30 minutes before midnight of my actual birthday, a friend from College sent me a text greeting. We hadn't spoken in a long time, so it was a great surprise as well. I'm happy she remembered. I know there was probably a notification from Facebook or the Birthday alarm.  Man, I'm so cynical!  But still, I love getting greetings like these.

Another person who greeted me was my old boss.  Again, I didn't expect I'd hear from him.  He's one of the people I truly respect and look up to.  I learned a lot from him-- about work, dealing with people, life.  Well, about a month ago, I found out that we're working on the same building.  I never had the chance to meet him again though, because he's on night shift and I work on daytime.  Well, this morning I had to come in early for a meeting and guess who I met at the lobby?  Another little birthday surprise for me.

My actual birthday (it was last weekend) was spent celebrating another person's birthday. I was out of town with friends, joining in on the festivities for one of the founders of our poetry group. The day was filled with good food, good conversation and fun people. We talked about our plans this year and what we're currently working on. These are the stuff I can't talk to anyone about (except my sister). It feels good to find a place for my creative endeavors. Before we went home, we picked green mangoes. Sir Rio said I owe him four poems for them. I better start working.

the origin of love

In the beginning, there was no such thing as Love.

"..the primeval man was round, his back and sides forming a circle; and he had four hands and four feet, one head with two faces, looking opposite ways, set on a round neck and precisely alike..Terrible was their might and strength, and the thoughts of their hearts were great, and they made an attack upon the gods..

'Methinks I have a plan which will humble their pride and improve their manners;', Zeus said. 'Men shall continue to exist, but I will cut them in two and then they will be diminished in strength'..

After the division the two parts of man, each desiring his other half, came together, and throwing their arms about one another, entwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one, they were on the point of dying from hunger and self-neglect, because they did not like to do anything apart; and when one of the halves died and the other survived, the survivor sought another mate, man or woman as we call them, being the sections of entire men or women, and clung to that..

..Each of us when separated, having one side only, like a flat fish, is but the indenture of a man, and he is always looking for his other half..

..And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and would not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together; yet they could not explain what they desire of one another."

- Symposium by Plato

They say Love is the most wonderful thing, and here, it says that Love came about because of pain and loneliness. It was born when we were separated. If Zeus didn't cut us up into two, we'll never know what Love is. Should we thank him for it? Is it better this way? Or is it better that we stay as one and never feel the joy of finding Love? I don't know.

But what I do know and believe in is that, individually, we're already perfect and whole. We don't have to depend on another person to complete us. There are parts of us that could use some improvement and there are parts that are unknown. I think that's what we have to do: find ourselves, be the best we can be, love and accept what we have. Once we've done this, and we're full and overflowing, there will be more meaning and happiness, more of ourselves and our life to share with others.

Here's a video from my favorite favorite movie of all time, "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" about the origin of love. Amazing song. Happy Hearts Day everyone!

"..that's the pain that cuts a straight line down through the heart, we call it Love.."

Sources:
http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/symposium.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YO9FpWX57E&feature=related

Treasure Trove: magnolias on gold velvet cloth

Magnolias on Gold Velvet Cloth by Martin Heade from duke.edu

the Find
"Magnolias on Gold Velvet Cloth", a painting by Martin Johnson Heade, purchased by the Museum of Fine Arts for $1,250,000.

"This is an important rediscovery, and the painting is a magnificent example of Heade's work at its best,'' said Theodore E. Stebbins Jr., author of the 1975 catalogue raisonne of Heade's works.

The painting was authenticated by the Kennedy Galleries in Manhattan. According to its president, Martha J. Fleischman, ''What sets this apart from his other magnolia painting is that there's a little bit of leaf mold on one of the leaves, like a beauty mark.''

the Lucky
He prefers to remain anonymous. The only information about him is he's from Indiana, about 30 years old and works in a tool-and-die company.

the Place and the Time
The painting was sent to Museum of Fine Arts, Houston on March 1999, well preserved and still in its original frame. The museum's director called an emergency meeting with the board of trustees and the purchase was approved in less than an hour and a half.

How in the world!?



The previous owner bought it years ago for "next to nothing". He found it quite useful, using the painting to hide a hole in one of his walls. One day, he was playing the boardgame, "Masterpiece", and a piece that looked a lot like it came up.  He then contacted the Kennedy Galleries to have it authenticated.

It's interesting to note that there are other Heade paintings discovered this way:

• Thunderstorm on Narragansett Bay was found in an antiques store in Larchmont, New York in 1943.
• Magnolia Blossoms on Blue Velvet and Cherokee Roses were purchased at an estate sale in Arizona for $60 in 1996.
• Two Magnolias on Blue Plush was originally purchased for $29 at a rummage sale by a Wisconsin man in 1989
• Two Heade paintings were discovered in an attic, one in Boston last 2003 and the other in Massachusetts, 2006.

According to Stebbins, "One of the things that has always made the study of Heade's work exciting is the way his paintings continue to turn up in garage sales and other unlikely places all over the country, in a manner that the paintings of Frederic E. Church and John F. Kensett do not." He thinks this could be because of Heade's willingness to distribute his works and popularity with middle-class buyers.

Sources:
http://www.mentalfloss.com/blogs/archives/30933
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Johnson_Heade
http://www.nytimes.com/1999/06/04/arts/painting-packs-a-million-dollar-surprise.html?pagewanted=1
boardgamebeast.com

the Reign of Edward III

Using a software called Pl@giarism, a literature professor was able to detect traces of Shakespeare in an unattributed play from the 1500s titled, "The Reign of Edward III".

The software compares writing patterns between two or more works and produces a list of phrases common to them. It's usually used to check the originality of a student's work. Sir Brian Vickers, from University of London, used it in examining the play and found 200 matches between Edward III and Shakespeare's other works.

"With this method we see the way authors use and reuse the same phrases and metaphors, like chunks of fabric in a weave," says Vickers.

And it looks like this play is a collaboration between Shakespeare and another playwright, Thomas Kyd. There's also a match of 200 phrases between this play and his works.

"In Edward III, it's quite a typical arrangement; Shakespeare writes three scenes near the beginning and one later on, presumably to guarantee some kind of continuity," says Vickers. "It's a very good play, but it suffers from some inconsistencies - characters who appear in some of Shakespeare's scenes don't appear later on."

It took Prof. Vickers two years of research to identify the play's possible authors, even if he has the expertise and the software, it still wasn't easy. "You have to go on hunches - you can't just feed in all the numbers on every play and sit back," he says. "But what I'm hoping to do is bring about a marriage between human reading and machine reading. If you distrust computers, you won't advance at all; if you have just computers and know nothing about literature, you're likely to go wrong as well."


Sources:
http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1930971,00.html
http://blogs.discovermagazine.com/discoblog/2009/10/21/plagiarism-software-solves-mystery-of-unknown-shakespeare-play/

solitude

It's Sunday evening and I'm alone, churning out another blog post. They say writing is one of the loneliest work there is. Not really. It is a solitary activity--physically, but here, imagination's your only limit. You can travel anywhere, go back in time, be anyone you want.

There's one place I can think of where a writer will be very productive. Prison. You're confined, there's tons of material, minimal distractions and plenty of time to think. Anybody familiar with Misery? Yep. There's even a literary genre called Prison Literature which, as the name implies, are works written when the author was in prison or under house arrest. Someone even made a list of top ten books written in prison.

Two great books under this genre are, "Don Quixote" and "A journey around my room". It's interesting that in Don Quixote, the author escapes to Spain with his knight, going on adventures and fighting windmills; but in A journey around my room, the author relishes his confinement. He was in house arrest for six weeks and during that time, he wrote about the furniture, paintings and decorations in his room. He related these to his life, and in doing so, his memories and reflections surface.

Aside from writing, here's another thing you can do in prison:


When we're alone, what we have is that very limited and very precious commodity, time. We don't realize it at first, so we kill time: games, tv, etc. Eventually, we get bored. So we think, we imagine and soon, we look around and work at something. We're standing on fertile ground. In solitude begins Creation.

on knowing a person

LIRA - Aranya
by M.B. Schwab

I went to a funeral last Monday.  Car accident.  A lot of people died this year, Cory Aquino, Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, John Hughes.. and now a friend.  I attended a poetry workshop last year and we would meet every weekend, 8 hours every Saturday and Sunday.  There were about 20 to 25 of us and we would listen to lectures and critique each other's poems.  We participated in literary events, created a folio and held a fellows' night last December.  Now, our batch will never be complete.

We read his poems.  Some are poignant, some are funny and then there was one that seems to connect with his sister.  This was all a surprise to his family because they did not know that he wrote.  It's sad that they're seeing this side of him for the first and final time. I feel lucky to have been part of that side for one whole year and now we're introducing it to the people closest to him.  We're celebrating his art.

Everybody's so complex, so many sides, so many levels, I don't think we can really REALLY know anyone.  In addition to that, we're growing, learning and changing each minute.  I don't know about you but I'm having a hard time just getting to know myself.  It's even harder to open up and share yourself to other people, harder still to accept each other's shortcomings. But I think we can at least be aware of these difficulties-- and understand that overcoming these stuff will ultimately bring us closer to each other or, at the very least, it will bring us closer to ourselves.

John Baldessari's Throwing four balls in the air to get a square (best of 36 tries)

desordre.net

In this series of pictures, Baldessari attempted to get a square.  He selected 8 of the best out of 36 tries (36 tries is the standard number of shots on a roll of 35mm film).

It seems that none of them look like a perfect square though, the shape is random and the thrower doesn't have full control of the outcome-- but that's only because they're seen from a single point of view.  The shape's perfection actually depends on how we view the ball formation.  Shift the angle a little and soon we'll see a perfect square for each of the photos.

We can't always control how things turn out but we can always control how we look at it.   :)

the angel of death and the seven dwarves

Exactly a year ago, I read about Josef Mengele in the Boston website.  He was a doctor in Auschwitz who performed medical experiments on Jews.  I was intrigued by the topic, so I ran a search on it.  Just a few clicks and I ran into Mengele's dwarf family, the Ovitzes.

It was the picture that got me.  They're so charming.  So I got the book and read it immediately.  It's really good but I still wanted to learn more about the Holocaust.  One lunch break, I found myself about to cry in front of my workstation because of Jan Komski's drawings and descriptions of Auschwitz.

I am so thankful to be alive today.

And so lucky.  But not as lucky as Perla Ovitz.
... "Not long before she died, Perla reflected on her fate: 'We were the only family who entered a death camp and emerged from it together," she said. "If I ever question why I was born a dwarf, my answer must be that my handicap, my deformity, was God's way of keeping me alive.'"