Dream

I dreamt of an absolutely fantastic dream last night. I was on a kind of spaceship. It was like a miniature planet, and we were a bunch of people rushing into the unknown space, as it seemed, in a quest for new lands or an inhabitable planet. There was a pecular reason why we could navigate the space at such an incredibly high speed, and it was that they had cut out an ablong piece of the Earth, spinned it around so that it had twisted over itself, assumed a spherical shape and also acquired this fantastic speed. After some time we were informed, as if through a devine voice, that we were not going to make it and would soon reach our end. I and a girl, towards whom I felt a sort of intimacy I could not express for the fear of other people's jelousy -was it Koala?- planned an escape from the doomed fate. There was an underground place, very much like a museum, that everyone believed was the source of some universe-governing power. We went down there pretending to be benign visitors and stole some very worthless objects: a few pebbles, a little soil, pieces of paper, etc. Then we went up and saw the control cabin was surrounded by roaring flows of water. There was a suspension bridge built close to the wall and with a few sparse logs which would lead to the cabin's door. The girl boldly went on the bridge and, hardly keeping her balance, reached the door and went in. Then, inspit of the fact that I couldn't see her, I saw her decide, after some struggle with herslef, not to finish the job, as if she was forced by some supernatural voice to see a higher-level picture we could not see before. She came back and this time I went into the cabin. And to my own surprise I also decided not to perform the task. But, in my case, it was a very simple decision, like succumbing to a relaxing passiveness. I came back too, and suddenly, the Sun came out from behind the clouds, reminding us of the forgootten fact that we had not seen the shining of the Sun for an eternity. Everywhere was dazzlingly bright and everything was still. I was feeling I was alive and healthy but not able to make a single move of a tiny muscle any longer.

Poverty

Poverty strikes back! I stopped using one of my credit cards, for the fearful prospect of not being able to pay it off soon. I had heard all this stories about evil credit cards that leash human souls and suck up their last drops of financial freedom but wouldn't believe that could just happen without the prior negligence of the poor soul who ended up there. That is true, in fact, I still don't think differently. What I had not thought of was the naturalness of this negligence! I did keep track of my shoppings and had even devised some biult-in reluctance towards using my credit card. But, it was enough to close my eyes and shut down that buit-in device for as short as 3 weeks, to become poor and in debt just like in those stories I had heard! And the bad thing is it came about so gradually and out of my control (or it seems so) I can't even say when it happened. But the worst thing is I don't like shopping at all! I wonder what would have happened if I had.

Anyway, this is it, it has happened and I can't help the past, can I? So, I'm going into a financial hibernation for a while, now!

Last One?

Yet another editting job, and time, like always, is running out. Would this be my last desperate and unwilling undertaking? I wish it would!

Stream of Thoughts along a Downtown Sidewalk

Predecessor: I'm sitting at a Starbucks café -no, I'm not a regular!- sipping a cheap light coffee and biting on a banana loaf. A forlorn, homeless woman is trying to persuade people to read a piece of paper and do her a favour -why did she have so many? She does not talk, maybe dumb? She makes some intense gestures at a passer-by, after being prevented from entering the café by someone -I wonder who he was!- and just then I realize it's the same woman whome I was looking at from behind at the lights a few minutes back. After being rejected by one more customer outside, she decides to go try some place else and crosses the street hurriedly on the red light, not from the crosswalk, nearly about to be hit by a car.

Facts: I have not been homeless. I have been feeling frustrated about accomodation for a couple years, some years ago, going from one place to another -one year we moved 4, no 5 times- always wondering if we could afford the new one. I have been feeling poor, once frustrated to the verge of hysteria. I have never really been in very poor conditions. I'm not rich now, but cannot say I'm poor any more, as evident from being able to blog almost regularly!

Thoughts:

1. The mass phenomenon of not respecting the law in third-world countries, like Iran, is the result of a serious and helpless feeling of detachment from and anger towards the society by individuals. There seems to be many people in Canada who would be very happy to take advantage of the opportunities while getting around the laws for personal benefits, but they'd still never cross a quiet street on the red light or if they do they'd have no moral justification for it when remarked on. But once left alone, helpless and frustrated by the society, who would care about the neat and stylish waiting for a green light to cross an even busy street? It is very naturally morally justified as well. I would not cross a quiet street on a red light, even in Iran, now that I think, not because I was too excited about respecting the law, but because I was feeling distinguished from the mass. The people who genuinely respect the law are not aggressive -not being aggressive does not mean being passive- about it; I was. Now I feel it's the most natural thing to wiat for the green light, and at the same time I feel integrated with the society I'm living in too; to some good extent, that is. I feel a very direct connection.


2. How far have I been from getting into the group of helplessly lonley and frustrated people? What would have happened if my mom had felt unable to continue on some hot summer Tuesday at noon, when I was six? I do not believe in deterministic philosophy in its simple-minded form, since I believe we are not simple particles of classical physics, and rather have a complex internal degrees of freedom, resulting in a complex flexibility and adaptablity -intelligence in short. But when I was a fragile kid, what would have happened if my mom had given in to the brutality of life at those unbearable moments?

Successor: I enjoyed a wonderful concert of amazing blends of different tunes from around the world played by the band, Jou-Tou (this is the best I could find about them). Am I just one more passive intellectual after all? I'd rather say observer, but whatever!

Noise to Signal Ratio

Each time I turn on the TV or tune to some random radio station (not the few ones whose contents I have already assessed and approved of!) I hear a blue streak of baloney about everything from sexual relationships to terrorism. I'm not a cynic normally, but can't bear loud, pretentious, narrow-minded accounts of the matters either.

Sometimes I wonder how could one ever hear a true voice, a single, timid, right-to-the-point voice in this stormy sea of loud noise, if not by sheer chance or from the high top of some academically honoured position.

Hm, now I am really a cynic. Now I'm not normal. I have to think of all the achievements of a free society, and believe there are ways that it hears its true, single, timid voices and honours them with high, overlooking positions, though not known to me - at least consciously.

Passion

Mix all the things you find yourself passionate about with the one thing you have chosen (or will choose) to be with for a time of order of a lifetime -it could be your profession or your partner for that matter. If you find yourslef unable to fulfill this simple prerequisite of feeling content, you have to change your mind about that thing being 'the' one, or will have no right to complain about the life and/or your fate! Don't doubt it: that's how that great contentment naturally comes about each time after making love.

Speech Errors

An interesting problem in linguistics is the structure of the word library or the lexicon of a speaker. It's especially difficult to figure out this structure since there is not much data about it. A possibly relevant data is the errors (native) speakers make while speaking, like switching two words in a sentence or linking together two lexically related words into another word. I'm not a native English speaker but as I use it extensively during the day, the same thing happens to me frequently too. There are reportedly many collections of these errors. Being so, my collection may not be of any pioneering interest but still is a fun thing I have been planning to do for quite some time. Here is my first entry:

Speech Error #1

Phrased:	We are interested in while watching!
Notes:	a in watching was going to be pronounced as in waking.
Spoken:	We are interetsed in while -um, ... whale watching.
Notes:	No particular precursor to the error was present. The whole senctence was clearly phrased the wrong way, but when speaking out, I picked up the error and corrected it, after a pause and a hint (`whale ...') from Koala.

Happy Birthday Duck!

Bending Trees

On sunny days, if a gentle breeze passes by, I get a wonderful view through our window: tall poplar trees, bending -almost dancing, with their leaves trembling in the breeze. Sometimes I put on a music, say a Bach piano piece (now: Goldberg Variations), and look through the window at the amazing random synchronizations of the trees, branches and leaves, with my inner-house music! This, if happened more frequently, could be a very good reason for me not to want to move away from the noise and disquiet of the nearby highway.

The extreme tallness of these trees, among the surrounding concrete high-rises, makes a wonderful composition, which gives me an impression of a competetion between the preset stillness of things and the adopting dynamism of living beings.

Voice of Voices

After some struggle among different options, now I feel I know what kind of voice and tone I am going to use here in my weblog. Hm, sounds like I'm trying to creat a literary work! Why should I have these struggles otherwise?!

Second Thought

On a second thought about my ducky statement of Blogging Principles, I feel it all derived from a negative reaction to blogging becoming just a generalized form of e-mail. In fact, I had seen many weblogs that were nothing but a web form of mass e-mails, and the fear of my own being or becoming like them, made me think of some preventing measures. There are many counter-examples though, basically showing that blogging, just like any other creative activity, reflects personalities. So, if there is anything to fear, it's the metamorphosis of personality into a shalow and typical imitation of the world around. Ah, how I admire originality!

It is, in fact, none of the written principles that I am reconsidering, but one that was never written, and yet I can see its presence all over that statement: "I won't talk to my readers (if any)!" You may even not guess at it by reading the statement. (I think I just relaxed this unsaid defensive tactic! Hurray!) But it's going to be a different feeling without it sitting behind the whole 5 principles and the corollary: I like it much better now!

Contemplations on a Cloud

It's so beautiful,
yet so sad,
the hues of gray blue,
on the rash-swollen skin
      of a ready-to-water cloud.

Is the cloud unhappy
-I always wonder-
about its transitional existence, or
about its limited extension,
      which helplessly leaves the horizon open and bright,
or perhaps
with the people's attitude to its kind?

I am, but, always grateful
for the textured paintings
      that kindly await my eyes
      behind the curtains of our room.

Duck's 5 Principles of Blogging And a Corollary

Blogging, if shapeless and without principles, could be troublesome in various ways. I won't go into naming those troubles, conforming to the Duck's Blogging Principle No. 2.

Noting thus, I will write down, for my own recollection, Duck's Blogging Principles as follows:

1. Duck's Blog is defined as a set of personal notes, which, for various reasons, most notably author's personal desire, are open for the world to read.

Corollary: These notes do not have a specific addressee, nonetheless they like to be read.

2. Wordy notes are strongly discouraged.

3. Visitors' counter won't be used.

4. Commenting for posts is eliminated and will only be used for a post, if seen necessary by the author.

5. When there is nothing to be posted, there is nothing to be posted.