I was inspired by this song. I was moved. And, I must admit, I cried.
It was one night when I couldn't fall asleep when I remembered the movie "Twilight" with a song called Bella's Lullaby. Looking for this song on YouTube I came a cross this.
It is so beautifull, so perfect and so moving that I closed my eyes and tears came up.
I normally don't cry at the sound of music, but this was special. I thought about my grandmothers funeral and the first thing that came to my mind was: "I want this song on my funeral."
Is that normal for a kid of only 18 years...
I keep wondering...
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
P for poetry, politics and everything else that starts with a 'p'
5 November. A day to remember.
The whole nation with one face,
looming up, striding great pace.
Remember the greater idea,
and not the one man you see.
(written by me)
I saw the ‘V for Vendetta’ film just a couple of days ago. Sitting in a room with a couple of friends I was expecting a fighting film. However, it was nothing like that. Beginning this blog with a poem isn’t so awkward as it seems. When you’ve seen ‘V for Vendetta’ it speaks for itself.
The introduction already has some underlying clues that ‘V for Vendetta’ is not merely a fighting film. It is a poetical film. I’m not a ggod film critic, I will discuss the poetic aspects of this film. To do that properly we have do decide what ‘poetic’ is. Do we just count the poems and writings or can a landscape or happening also be poetic? If we count landscapes and happenings, how do we determine which of these are poetic? I’m not going to write a scientifically sound article, so I’ll count every thing that I find poetic as poetic. So, if you merely look at the beginning of the film, it starts off with a poetic anecdote of Britain’s history. November the 5th 1605. The day that Gay Fawkes and his companions tried to blow up the parliament building. A heroic deed, done in the spirit of the greater idea. Quite poetic if you ask me.
However, the first time the film gets to the poet within you is when ‘V’ saves Evey from the so-called ‘Fingermen’. After he gets rid of these men, in a not so poetic way, he introduces himself to Evey. As many poets after Shakespeare didn’t write plays, I’m not going to try to explain this in my own words. This quote will speak for itself.
Evey Hammond: Who are you?
The whole nation with one face,
looming up, striding great pace.
Remember the greater idea,
and not the one man you see.
(written by me)
I saw the ‘V for Vendetta’ film just a couple of days ago. Sitting in a room with a couple of friends I was expecting a fighting film. However, it was nothing like that. Beginning this blog with a poem isn’t so awkward as it seems. When you’ve seen ‘V for Vendetta’ it speaks for itself.
The introduction already has some underlying clues that ‘V for Vendetta’ is not merely a fighting film. It is a poetical film. I’m not a ggod film critic, I will discuss the poetic aspects of this film. To do that properly we have do decide what ‘poetic’ is. Do we just count the poems and writings or can a landscape or happening also be poetic? If we count landscapes and happenings, how do we determine which of these are poetic? I’m not going to write a scientifically sound article, so I’ll count every thing that I find poetic as poetic. So, if you merely look at the beginning of the film, it starts off with a poetic anecdote of Britain’s history. November the 5th 1605. The day that Gay Fawkes and his companions tried to blow up the parliament building. A heroic deed, done in the spirit of the greater idea. Quite poetic if you ask me.
However, the first time the film gets to the poet within you is when ‘V’ saves Evey from the so-called ‘Fingermen’. After he gets rid of these men, in a not so poetic way, he introduces himself to Evey. As many poets after Shakespeare didn’t write plays, I’m not going to try to explain this in my own words. This quote will speak for itself.
Evey Hammond: Who are you?
V: Who? Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask.
Evey Hammond: Well I can see that.
V: Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is.
Evey Hammond: Oh. Right.
V: But on this most auspicious of nights, permit me then, in lieu of the more commonplace sobriquet, to suggest the character of this dramatis persona.
V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin van-guarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition.
V: The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.
V: Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me V.
Evey Hammond: Are you like a crazy person?
V: I am quite sure they will say so. But to whom, might I ask, am I speaking with?
Evey Hammond: I'm Evey.
V: Evey? E-V. Of course you are.
Evey Hammond: What does that mean?
V: It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and I don't believe in coincidences.
This is poetry at its best. Besides the perfect choice of words, this scene is constructed with such precision and poetic notion. After remarking the great paradox which most of us, and I speak mainly for myself, wouldn’t have noticed, he introduces himself with an astonishing alliteration that blows your mind away. This all leads to a, sort of, humorous anti-climax by Evey’s remark. The scene ends with V’s remark about the well-chosen name of his antagonist, which of course cannot be a coincidence..
I could keep on quoting lines where V quotes some great writers and poets, but I will spare you that. I would like to use one last quote as a bridge to the point that was supposed to be the main point of this blog. In the beginning of the film an anecdote is told, about Gay Fawkes, where this line comes up.
Evey Hammond: …We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world...
It is hard to see the idea seperate from the man. A simple example is in physics. All the great laws of physics are called after their ‘inventors’. Take Boyle’s law, Boltzmann’s constant, Newton’s law and the Van der Waals equations. Even the greatest, in the most literal way, ideas are still coupled to a man. Religions. The Muslims have Mohammed, the Christians have Jesus and the Jews have Moses. They all have, if you can call that a man, their God.
Why are we told to remember the idea and not the man? Is it only because the man can be killed? I think the most important reason is that the man can fail. A friend of mine once said to me: “God is okay, but the ground staff isn’t any good”.
I think he summerises the whole problem some of us have with religions in this one sentence. If I ever think about God or his meaning it doesn’t seem so bad. Take a look at the Ten Commandments. "Honour your father and your mother. You shall not kill. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal." Some great lines some of us can learn from. However, when the Pope speaks, and talks a lot of nonsense like “Condoms are the result of witchcraft.” I turn the television or radio off as soon as possible.
I think that religion has a great value to some of us. The ones who are scared, who need some sort of assurance, who feel lonely and feel comfort in His presence. Every one has his own God and if they want to read a book they believe is written by their God, that’s fine by me, but when some stuck-up men in white dresses say they preach the word of God it has gone too far.
Believe what ever you want to believe, but don’t ever let anyone tell you that they represent your God. Your God is in your own head and your own ideas.
This is poetry at its best. Besides the perfect choice of words, this scene is constructed with such precision and poetic notion. After remarking the great paradox which most of us, and I speak mainly for myself, wouldn’t have noticed, he introduces himself with an astonishing alliteration that blows your mind away. This all leads to a, sort of, humorous anti-climax by Evey’s remark. The scene ends with V’s remark about the well-chosen name of his antagonist, which of course cannot be a coincidence..
I could keep on quoting lines where V quotes some great writers and poets, but I will spare you that. I would like to use one last quote as a bridge to the point that was supposed to be the main point of this blog. In the beginning of the film an anecdote is told, about Gay Fawkes, where this line comes up.
Evey Hammond: …We are told to remember the idea, not the man, because a man can fail. He can be caught, he can be killed and forgotten, but 400 years later, an idea can still change the world...
It is hard to see the idea seperate from the man. A simple example is in physics. All the great laws of physics are called after their ‘inventors’. Take Boyle’s law, Boltzmann’s constant, Newton’s law and the Van der Waals equations. Even the greatest, in the most literal way, ideas are still coupled to a man. Religions. The Muslims have Mohammed, the Christians have Jesus and the Jews have Moses. They all have, if you can call that a man, their God.
Why are we told to remember the idea and not the man? Is it only because the man can be killed? I think the most important reason is that the man can fail. A friend of mine once said to me: “God is okay, but the ground staff isn’t any good”.
I think he summerises the whole problem some of us have with religions in this one sentence. If I ever think about God or his meaning it doesn’t seem so bad. Take a look at the Ten Commandments. "Honour your father and your mother. You shall not kill. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal." Some great lines some of us can learn from. However, when the Pope speaks, and talks a lot of nonsense like “Condoms are the result of witchcraft.” I turn the television or radio off as soon as possible.
I think that religion has a great value to some of us. The ones who are scared, who need some sort of assurance, who feel lonely and feel comfort in His presence. Every one has his own God and if they want to read a book they believe is written by their God, that’s fine by me, but when some stuck-up men in white dresses say they preach the word of God it has gone too far.
Believe what ever you want to believe, but don’t ever let anyone tell you that they represent your God. Your God is in your own head and your own ideas.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
My God
My god lives in heaven
My god lives in hell
My god lives in Utopia
My god lives in America
My god never complains
Yet he’s never satisfied
My god loves to Rock ‘N’ Roll
My god loves to chill
My god is all in one
My god is none of them
My god I know him very well
My god that is me
My god lives in hell
My god lives in Utopia
My god lives in America
My god never complains
Yet he’s never satisfied
My god loves to Rock ‘N’ Roll
My god loves to chill
My god is all in one
My god is none of them
My god I know him very well
My god that is me
Divine Dialogs
It all started one Saturday, the day that I sinned. Well actually it wasn't my fault, it was all on the government, no even better, it was all on some bandit. That was the day when I got a message from God, when He punished me for my sin.
My sin was that I travelled the train without a ticket, but as I said, that wasn't my fault, not entirely at least. My bank pass was taken, 'swallowed', by the cash machine, but it wasn't, as I said before, the government’s fault. It was scanned at someplace. They couldn't say where, due to an ongoing investigation. There I stood, no cash, no bank pass and a train to catch that was almost leaving. I decided just to take the train and hope for the best. Adrenaline and blood rushed through my veins. Looking up by even the sound of the wind. I sat down next to an older lady, I thing she was in her mid-fifties. She looked at me and gave me a friendly smile. I, of course, smiled as friendly back to her. The trip from Haarlem to Amsterdam takes about twenty minutes and has one or two stations in between. It all went well, no controls, no one asking me for my ticket. Until just before Amsterdam, when the older lady spoke to me for the first time. She asked me a question that seemed rather pointless to me at that point, but as I look back I'm sure it was the beginning of God’s punishment.
"What are you going to do with Eastern?" (It was one week before Eastern at the time)
"Well, I'm not sure, just enjoying my long weekend I guess, and you?" (I was being polite) She looked at me without answering my question and then she said.
"You know that Eastern is an important holiday, don't you?" I kind of had a feeling where this was going, so I said.
"Well I am an atheist, Madame." She looked at me with big, astonished eyes like I just told her I could turn water in to wine. She remained calm, which took her a great effort, and said with a calm voice.
"So why don't you believe in God?" It was close or she would have added the word 'my son'.
"Well, I think that there are enough scientific facts that contradict the existence of God." I answered. Her eyes became even bigger.
"You know that there is a division in science, right?"
"What do you mean exactly Madame?"
"Well, there are scientist who do believe and there are who don't." This seemed rather obvious to me, it was like saying "There are people who are good at math and there are who aren't good in math." So I just knotted and hoped for a soon arrival at Amsterdam. Unfortunately God's punishment wasn't finished yet and the lady continued.
"For example there is a biologist who has written a book on the creation of mankind, where he gifs scientifical facts that God does exist." The train finally arrived in Amsterdam and I hoped my punishment had come to an end, but it didn't. The older lady kept on going about how important it was for a young guy like me to believe in God and to understand that He truly exists. While I smiled and knotted, I walked away as fast as I could and that was where it ended. I have had a message from God...
Never sit down to a friendly looking older lady again.
My sin was that I travelled the train without a ticket, but as I said, that wasn't my fault, not entirely at least. My bank pass was taken, 'swallowed', by the cash machine, but it wasn't, as I said before, the government’s fault. It was scanned at someplace. They couldn't say where, due to an ongoing investigation. There I stood, no cash, no bank pass and a train to catch that was almost leaving. I decided just to take the train and hope for the best. Adrenaline and blood rushed through my veins. Looking up by even the sound of the wind. I sat down next to an older lady, I thing she was in her mid-fifties. She looked at me and gave me a friendly smile. I, of course, smiled as friendly back to her. The trip from Haarlem to Amsterdam takes about twenty minutes and has one or two stations in between. It all went well, no controls, no one asking me for my ticket. Until just before Amsterdam, when the older lady spoke to me for the first time. She asked me a question that seemed rather pointless to me at that point, but as I look back I'm sure it was the beginning of God’s punishment.
"What are you going to do with Eastern?" (It was one week before Eastern at the time)
"Well, I'm not sure, just enjoying my long weekend I guess, and you?" (I was being polite) She looked at me without answering my question and then she said.
"You know that Eastern is an important holiday, don't you?" I kind of had a feeling where this was going, so I said.
"Well I am an atheist, Madame." She looked at me with big, astonished eyes like I just told her I could turn water in to wine. She remained calm, which took her a great effort, and said with a calm voice.
"So why don't you believe in God?" It was close or she would have added the word 'my son'.
"Well, I think that there are enough scientific facts that contradict the existence of God." I answered. Her eyes became even bigger.
"You know that there is a division in science, right?"
"What do you mean exactly Madame?"
"Well, there are scientist who do believe and there are who don't." This seemed rather obvious to me, it was like saying "There are people who are good at math and there are who aren't good in math." So I just knotted and hoped for a soon arrival at Amsterdam. Unfortunately God's punishment wasn't finished yet and the lady continued.
"For example there is a biologist who has written a book on the creation of mankind, where he gifs scientifical facts that God does exist." The train finally arrived in Amsterdam and I hoped my punishment had come to an end, but it didn't. The older lady kept on going about how important it was for a young guy like me to believe in God and to understand that He truly exists. While I smiled and knotted, I walked away as fast as I could and that was where it ended. I have had a message from God...
Never sit down to a friendly looking older lady again.
Introduction; Avoid making a choice
"Nil Volentibuus Arduum" (Nothing is impossible for those who want it). A maxim from a Dutch Poet Society in the Golden Age. A suitable quote to start my blog with, since I like writing poetry. I heard about the Dutch Poet Society during a literature class at school. I was inspired right away. Actually it started earlier, in a sort of subconscious, when I saw the film 'Dead poets society', but I was too young to recognize the inspiration. This blog will be about making decisions, finding yourself in between two doors, or more, when you can only open one. I learned today, when I started this blog, that I don't like making decisions...
First let me tell you something about myself (see, I just made a decision to tell something about myself and then continue with this blog about choices). I am Tom, an 18-year-old student. I am now in my final year of (Dutch) high school. I live in Haarlem, a city about 20 kilometres from Amsterdam, and no, I don't do drugs every time I am in Amsterdam. I must apologize for my shortcoming in English; my excuse is that it is not my native tongue. This apology counts for all my blogs from now on. I would love to write in bombastic sentences, or use catching comparisons like Shakespeare, but I am afraid that I am not very good at that yet. Also I will write, or publish, poems.
Back to the decision-making. It all started this morning when I started this blog, which, of course, did not go well the first try. So I ruined the name I wanted to use after a lot of doubting. Cursing and swearing went by before I got calm again and I returned to http://www.blogger.com/. The hard part began, picking a name for the second time. If you thought picking a name once is hard, you should try picking two names. During a consultation with a friend of mine (http://mirroredbowtie.blogspot.com/) all sorts of names passed by; Brown Sugar, I am, Romantic Failure, Q&A, Romantic Shower, They All Went To Heaven In A Little Rowboat and dozens more. They weren't good enough or stupid and the ones we found good enough were already used. Then finally came 'Poetic Answer', a very good one, we thought, but it was already chosen by someone, of course.. So 'Poetic Questions' then. Finally one that wasn't used yet and good enough according to our opinion. Then, when you are one step closer to creating your blog, another decision must be made. Looming up like Tolkien's creation 'Mount Doom'. What template do you want? What template do I want? I had no idea what kind of template I would like. Green? Black? Blue? Balls or stripes? Eventually I just chose the minimal template. Beautiful in its simplicity.
If you ever find yourself in a position where you have to make a tough decision, just ask your Magic 8-Ball.
First let me tell you something about myself (see, I just made a decision to tell something about myself and then continue with this blog about choices). I am Tom, an 18-year-old student. I am now in my final year of (Dutch) high school. I live in Haarlem, a city about 20 kilometres from Amsterdam, and no, I don't do drugs every time I am in Amsterdam. I must apologize for my shortcoming in English; my excuse is that it is not my native tongue. This apology counts for all my blogs from now on. I would love to write in bombastic sentences, or use catching comparisons like Shakespeare, but I am afraid that I am not very good at that yet. Also I will write, or publish, poems.
Back to the decision-making. It all started this morning when I started this blog, which, of course, did not go well the first try. So I ruined the name I wanted to use after a lot of doubting. Cursing and swearing went by before I got calm again and I returned to http://www.blogger.com/. The hard part began, picking a name for the second time. If you thought picking a name once is hard, you should try picking two names. During a consultation with a friend of mine (http://mirroredbowtie.blogspot.com/) all sorts of names passed by; Brown Sugar, I am, Romantic Failure, Q&A, Romantic Shower, They All Went To Heaven In A Little Rowboat and dozens more. They weren't good enough or stupid and the ones we found good enough were already used. Then finally came 'Poetic Answer', a very good one, we thought, but it was already chosen by someone, of course.. So 'Poetic Questions' then. Finally one that wasn't used yet and good enough according to our opinion. Then, when you are one step closer to creating your blog, another decision must be made. Looming up like Tolkien's creation 'Mount Doom'. What template do you want? What template do I want? I had no idea what kind of template I would like. Green? Black? Blue? Balls or stripes? Eventually I just chose the minimal template. Beautiful in its simplicity.
If you ever find yourself in a position where you have to make a tough decision, just ask your Magic 8-Ball.
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