Dr. Filomena

Photo: Kindling @ Tuileries, Paris (20 Sept 2010, 24°C; couldn’t resist)

I’ve been meaning to write a post on my latest toy for a couple of months now, but it was so much more fun to read than to type up a comprehensive post. So here’s a compromise. I’ll just jot down a few of my impressions and get back to reading.

Having been sceptical about the whole electronic book affair, I started with a light version, just a Kindle application for my BlackBerry. It was an instant hit that helped me finally read the incomplete Stieg Larsson series and join the crowds that regret his never having had the chance to finish it. But while quite doable, reading on a small BB screen is less than comfortable. It does the of job keeping one calm in queues, however.

Anyhoo, a few months after my birthday I managed to decide what I wanted for a present and my auntie was her usual wonderful self. Enter Kindle.

The first book I read on it was “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” recommended by BigWhale and from then on I just couldn’t stop. Needless to say I never managed to read the manual. The gadget is fool-proof enough. A big plus. What I first discovered (gosh, I so want to type “en utilisant” right now, can you tell we’ve been brushing up on the gérondif) while using it, was that

• The screen is very kind to the eyes and dimly lit, i.e. it requires external illumination in the dark;
• It’s very lightweight;
• Makes it a whole lot easier to meet budget airline luggage weight limits;
• It comes with a dictionary; just place the cursor in front of a word and its definition will show up at the bottom of the screen (useful if reading a masterfully written book such as Hitch-22);
• You can mark text and insert your comments or just underline it;
• The selected text can be shared online with others (eg. via Twitter);
• A book can be bought pretty much anywhere, thanks to the “whispernet”
• Supports various e-book formats.

What I truly appreciated was the fact that there were no distractions. No incoming e-mail, no urge to look up a phrase on the internet and drifting away. Even to check what time it was, I had to bring up the menu screen.

Thinking about the downsides, I’d say:

• Very few books in languages other than English;
• Once read, the books cannot be given away or lent to friends, not even for a fee;
• Doesn’t come with a jacket (and I’ve been too busy or to lazy to provide it with one up until now);
• Mine doesn’t come with WiFi so it’s a bit limited as the basic browser worked in Croatia, but it is blocked in Luxembourg and in France;
• Ease of purchase – I’ve spent more on books than I intended to.

With regard to the first and the last point, I’ve only just (re)discovered the perfect site. First, thanks go to peroksid for opening my eyes to the “non-Amazon” e-books. One thing led to another and I found/remembered Project Gutenberg. It wasn’t all that interesting while I had to read the texts on my computer, but with Kindle, it’s a whole different ball game!

So this morning, I downloaded a number of French books from this wonderful website. I’ll be staying in Paris for a few weeks and reading French seems the right thing to do. I did entertain the thought of typing this post in French, but I need to accept my (current) limitations.

… nekje med morjem in soncem…

Kot angelček, kaj? Videz vara! Na fotki: Zmelkoow Balkonski

Tako, če lahko svoj dragoceni čas in prostor na strežniku trošim za vsako lahko temo, ki se primaje mimo in jo reši sposobna ženska, so lahko najmanj tolikšne pozornosti deležni tudi kosmati hudički, s katerimi smem deliti stanovanje.

Danes je imela mlajša generacija precej preprosto nalogo. Zadrževali naj bi se v svoji ogromni škatli, kaj malega prigriznili, v tej vročini veliko popili in po potrebi obiskali peskovnik, predvsem pa veliko dremali in rasli.

Tamali kot tamali so si seveda zamislili drugačen dan. Šli so se plezalne vaje. Ko sem prišla domov, je bila v škatli samo piflarka. Od daleč se je zaslišalo neutolažljivo cviljenje. Moja slušna koordinacija ni najboljša in sem potrebovala nekaj časa, preden sem ugotovila, da me mali kliče z balkona. Splezal je čez rob odprtih vrat, ki je z balkonske strani višji, tako da ni mogel nazaj. Škatla se mu je v hipu zdela super udoben in prijeten kraj. Sestrice pa ni bilo nikjer. Nobenega mijavka, nobenega sledu. Ne pod kavčem, ne pod mizami, ne v kuhinji, ne pod posteljo, sploh pa ne na balkonu. Ko sem jo iskala in gledala prek balkonske ograje, sem za seboj priprla vrata. Male ni bilo videti nikjer. Seveda so se vrata zaprla in je vse kazalo, da ne bom mogla nazaj v stanovanje. Vhodna vrata pa sem zaklenila.

Če ne gre zlepa, gre pa zgrda, sem se naučila pri prodajnih avtomatih. Preden sem začela kričati na pomoč v petih jezikih, ki bi jih znali v Luksemburgu govoriti spodajidoči, sem butnila v vrata, ki so se prav elegantno vdala in zdrsnila v stran.

Zbezljala sem po stopnišču in preiskala okolico stavbe, pogledala v vsak okoliški koš za smeti in poskušala ohraniti mirne živce. Počasi sem se vendarle odpravila nazaj v stanovanje in ravno, ko sem razmišljala, kako bom ‘doma’ povedala, da je bil najdrznejši mladiček preveč pogumen, se je mala pošast zaspano prikazala izza nočne omarice.

Življenje skrajšano za kakšno leto, pokojninska blagajna cvili od veselja.

Uvajamo dodatne varnostne ukrepe.

Aja, konec dober, vse dobro 🙂

OK ok, spet pišem (pre)pozno, ampka tole se mi že tri dni svaljka po glavi in bom napisala vsaj tri stavke.

Gospodarski minister Matej Lahovnik se mi je nekoč zdel prava faca. Mlad, očitno inteligenten in sposoben fant. Izgledal je kot tisti reveži, ki so v šoli preskočili nekaj razredov in se zato nikoli niso res ujeli s svojimi sošolci. In imel je smisel za humor.

Moje navdušenje je hitro uplahnilo, ko sem dobila občutek, da je v njegovem svetu najpomembnejši on sam. Morda zdrav pogled na splošno, ampak precej moteč element, kadar se ustvarja politika in v sodelovanju z drugimi iščejo prave poti do želenih ciljev.

Pred kratkim je v debati nekdo omenil, da “nobody likes a turncoat”. Upravičenost takšnih občutkov se potrjuje vedno znova. (Ali Churchill šteje?)

S kombinatoriko, razlogi za njegovo vedenje in dejanja naj se ukvarjajo bolje obveščeni. Jaz samo tipkam prvo stvar, ki mi pade na pamet. In to je, da je Matej Lahovnik v želji po oblikovanju podobe priljubljenega, neupogljivega, duhovitega in bistrega ekonomista šel predaleč in kljub pretežno strpnemu okolju, ki je poskušalo miriti njegove izpade, svojo pozornost preusmeril s tistega, kar je resnično pomembno in kar je bil morda v resnici tudi sposoben izpeljati, na malenkostna obračunavanja in boje z mlini na veter.

Precej lažje je biti frajer na fakulteti kot stisniti zobe, biti in delati kot del ekipe ter si status zvezdnika zagotoviti z uspešnim delom v pomembnem vladnem resorju. Ampak za to moraš imeti, kar ima Magnifico.

Taking part in the Walk Along the Wire (photo: dr. fil)

I saw a quote today that struck home. It was simply too long to twit, so I decided to share it here. It’s nothing new, really, just well put. Slovenia turned 19 years young a few days ago, but – not for the first time – its birthday party was tarnished by purportedly patriotic groups expressing their disapproval of the ‘gay element’ in the Slovene society by vandalizing a gay café.

“Patriotism is proud of a country’s virtues and eager to correct its deficiencies; it also acknowledges the legitimate patriotism of other countries, with their own specific virtues. The pride of nationalism, however, trumpets its country’s virtues and denies its deficiencies, while it is contemptuous toward the virtues of other countries. It wants to be, and proclaims itself to be, “the greatest”, but greatness is not required of a country; only goodness is.”

Sydney J. Harris, journalist and author (1917-1986)

Now while there may not be any obvious links between nationalism and the attacks, it is more than bothersome that these groups are using the Slovene Statehood Day as if to award their criminal activities some higher purpose. It is, however, even more bothersome that some people/political parties seem convinced that too much attention is paid to such transgressions. Once you’ve seen a person with a degree in Philosophy argue on National Television that an unprovoked dog attack on a human being calls for an equal attention of the public and the authorities as a violent attack of Neo-nazis on the gay community, you may not have seen it all, but have come close.

It is more than obvious that 1/ the municipal elections are nearing by the day and that 2/ the proposed new Family Code (more in Everyone Needs a Family by Mr. P) will be one of the hot topics. Those who oppose what I consider progressive solutions in the Code are quick to claim that they do so in the name of protecting the Nation and securing its future. A twitch in my left toe tells me that this coming autumn may be hotter than the summer.

As Slovenia celebrates its 19th birthday today, I decided to bake a cake for the occasion. The last time I baked a real cake was probably just about 19 years ago, so this seemed even more appropriate.  After, err, a bit of work, it’s ready to be taken out and shared with my colleagues here in Luxembourg. Many thanks to Huferka for the inspiration and tips. You are my role model when it comes to cakes!

Here goes nothing:

This is a double chocolate cake filled with whipped cream and sour cherries, topped with chocolate and then coloured whipped cream.

Before:

After:

Update: The cake didn’t just well, draw attention, but was actually delicious as well. Huferka’s recipe warmly recommended. It was dubbed “Črni Kal” (via Schwarzwald).

Slovenian forward Nejc Pečnik’s ankle broken by Clint Dempsey.
(Source: Žurnal 24)

My Google alerts e-mails set to to send me links to interesting online articles pertaining to Slovenia have been filled with a single topic for the past few days. One could call it an analysis of the USA-Slovenia football match, but one could just easily summarize it as a long-winded American whine over the draw. This made for an interesting read the first day. Possibly. Now it’s just becoming annoying and very unlike what I imagine the American spirit to be. Call me naive.

The articles focus on the allegedly “stolen” match and on the third US goal being disallowed unjustly. Of course, none seem to mention that the US team played roughly throughout the ninetysome minutes, seemingly confusing real football with the American type thereof, or possibly rugby with certain elements of wrestling. None mention the fact that the US players got away with a lot while half the Slovenian team seemed to be given a yellow card. And I have yet to see a note to the effect that Slovenian forward Pečnik’s ankle was broken by one the the American players. I just read a headline that spells “Pečnik breaks ankle”. He didn’t break his ankle by tripping down a staircase. He had ample help. And not even a simple foul was called.

Look guys, this is sports. The Slovenian team did a great job in the first half-time. The US team did a great job in the second half-time by proving both psychologically and physically well-prepared. The whole thing was rough and the goal scored during a wrestling match in the penalty box was disallowed by the referee. His decision stands.

Now for crying out loud, would you stop whining, admit that the Slovenians played well and focus on the next match. Preferably on how to play real football and not on how to break the opposite team’s players’ bones.

Živčki, živčki, živčki (foto: dr. fil, New York)

Zadnje čase v avtomobilu najraje poslušam radio France Culture. V studiu se pogovarjajo o najrazličnejših temah, avtorji predstavljajo svoja dela, potekajo obsežni intervjuji. Zelo drugačen in zelo zanimiv program, čeprav priznam, da včasih zapaše preklopiti na postajo z glasbo. Dokler tam ne spregovorijo.

No in tako sem v preteklih tednih poslušala razglabljanja o vsem mogočem in se marsikaj naučila. O razvoju ponapoleonske Evrope, o izlivu nafte v Mehiškem zalivu, o šolskem sistemu, o politiki predsednika Obame, včeraj zjutraj pa nekaj malega o psihologiji/sociologiji nogometne mrzlice.

Poslušala sem o “futmaniji” in o “futfobiji”. Pa o tem, da je denar pokvaril svetost igre. Nekoč je bilo drugače, fantje so igrali s srcem. Nastopali so kot ekipa, srce jim je bilo isti ritem. Zdaj igrajo za denar. Nič drugega jih ne zanima in gledalci to občutijo. Nekoč so navijači dihali s svojimi ljubljenci, živo občutili njihovo razpoloženje in ob koncu tekme doživljali katarzo. Ob spremenjenih razmerah ta katarza ni več mogoča. Pravi radio France Culture.

Oddaja me je spomnila, da sem marca pozabila sestaviti zapis po navodilih egiptovskega taksista v New Yorku. Beseda je dala besedo in od vprašanja “od kod pa sta” smo kaj hitro prešli na nogomet. Gospodu alžirska reprezentanca ni preveč pri srcu, kar je razumljivo glede na to, da je v kvalifikacijah za svetovno prvenstvo izločila Egipt. Razgreta čustva so povzročila nasilna obračunavanja med navijači obeh ekip v štirih državah.

Vrli taksist se je med vožnjo obrnil nazaj in z vso resnostjo dejal:

“Zagotovo imata kakšen blog. Ko prideta domov, napišita, da bodo vsi vedeli. Alžirce poraziš tako, da jim požreš živce. Vaši fantje naj jim ne dajo miru. Ko se jih poloti nervoza, se ne znajo več umiriti in je konec zanje. To je vaša pot do zmage. Ostanite trdni in jih psihično izčrpajte. Ves Egipt bo navijal za vas!”

Sicer ne vem, kako nasprotni ekipi požreš živce, ampak izpolnjujem obljubo in, zdaj tudi kot vestna članica fejsbukline skupine Nogomet za punce, objavljam taksistov nasvet. Prav tako ne vem, koliko denarja “pravi slovenski žrebci” (nzp press) dobijo za svoje reprezentančne nastope, se mi pa dozdeva, da znesek ni tolikšen, da bi preprečeval katarzo navijačev ob njihovem uspehu.

Naprej!

(foto: dr. fil)

Pogrešam tvoj nasmeh
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Potopim se v spomine
Vse pride, vse mine
Ampak ko mi je res hudo
Te najdem
Ne gledaš name od tam zgoraj
Ne oglašaš se mi od tam spodaj
Slišim te
Čutim te
Jasno
V sebi

Rada te imam
Ena sama

Oh, kako sem si te zaželela. Kazalo je, da mi bo zmanjkalo časa. Saj veš, kako je. Spet sem pozno odšla iz službe. Mislila sem nate, ko sem se usedla v mikrico in z upanjem v prsih oddrvela iz garaže. Vse se je zarotilo proti nama. Ulil se je dež, na Charlottinem mostu sem se stežka prebila mimo avtomobilov, ki se nista mogla izogniti prebližnjemu srečanju. Pri Cactusu je mikrica utripajočega srca in smernih kazalcev čakala na sumljivo počrtkanem mestu, gologlava sem se pognala skozi naliv, težkega srca a ne da bi trenila planila mimo iztegnjenih rok beračice in vstopila. Ko sem te prijela v roke, se mi je topilo srce. Odnesla sem te domov in občudovala barve, ki jih je nate narisalo sonce, tvoj sladkobni vonj me je očaral. Skupaj sva bili le kratek čas in kmalu te bom pozabila, ampak bilo je lepo, dokler je trajalo. Hvala za vse.