▶ The future of education and equal opportunities for all. What is a MOOC? – YouTube http://ow.ly/ryhs6
I spend a lot of time by myself. I go to school each weekday morning but I spend afternoons and evenings solo, studying, (I’m taking 2 courses online #MOOC) writing, watching movies and drawing or painting. I don’t mind being alone, I’m able to process larger batches of information and accomplish more when I’m alone. I’m easily distracted… I had another point to make but when I started to think about having people over (in my tiny apartment) I got disoriented and forgot… Anyways, back to the topic at hand, I’m not lonely, which is to be sad, as shown here -
I’m comfortably alone. I like it. It’s peaceful and calming. I can process information and organize my thoughts without interruption thus being more productive. When I find a depth of creativity I’m able to maximize my output. Don’t get me wrong, I get lonely at times. I miss my kids and grandkids, my friends around the world and my lover, but… I’m not afraid to spend time by myself. One of the more important lessons I have learned in past:
Being alone makes sharing things even more special. ~ Noni
When we’re constantly surrounded by people we often overlook the value of everyday events. Sharing a meal. Listening to someone. Helping someone accomplish a task. Holding someone’s hand. Teaching someone or learning from them. Human contact is necessary but periods of solitude should be respected for their valor as well.
“The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person – without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. They allow the other absolute freedom, because they know that if the other leaves, they will be as happy as they are now. Their happiness cannot be taken by the other, because it is not given by the other.” ~ OSHO
So don’t worry about me sitting home alone at nights, but that doesn’t mean I’m not receptive your call or invitation… For work or play, I’m ready night or day.
I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in over 30 years (brush to canvas) but was motivated to try my hand again by taking this course. I knew as a filmmaker and writer that drawing/painting would stimulate creative impulses of artistic expression. What I didn’t count on was being overwhelmed with a burning desire to transmit images in a non digital manner. My sense of visual acuity has sharpened immensely and I am proud to announce that I’m producing some hangable art. I had a stroke last May and have been struggling with my own sense of mortality and purpose. I’ve come to accept that even simple gestures like, offering a classmate a homemade biscuit or my professor a hand painted paper rose, can change someones day from dreary to hopeful.
Mostly I am reminded how fortunate I am to live in peace and relative safely. I know that many students who share the magic of online collaboration with me are much less fortunate. I feel hopeful for all our futures and trust that through open communication and sharing of ideas and knowledge we are growing closer as a race of humans. Here we connect through our love of design and desire to learn while we realize how similar our needs and desires really are.
Feeling grateful and inspired. Thanks everyone!
While I was doing research on the Roma people for an upcoming film project, I learned a great deal about this oft misunderstood group. For instance, the reason they're called Gypsy's is despite being from northern India, they entered Europe through the middle east and were thought to be Egyptians.
Besides the misnomer, they've faced centuries of extreme discrimination (Over 500,000 died in concentration camps alongside the Jews) which has led to a cyclical poverty and continued societal injustices.
So precious few
Check out the BUZZ…
Colony Collapse Disorder Wikipedia
Honey Bees Google search results
When I was a child I was plagued by recurring ear infections. Unfortunately, I suffered excruciating pain from the fluid that accumulated behind my eardrums. Occasionally, when it got really bad, my mother would take me to an ear, nose and throat specialist who would remove the fluid by piercing my eardrum with a syringe. It was a gruesome process in which my head was rendered immobile by a barbaric clamp-like device.
The reward for having endured this terrifying and agonizing procedure was that I was permitted to stay up late and watch a movie on TV with my mother. I look back now at the times that my mom let me sneak out of bed to snuggle beside her on the couch, my head pressed firmly against a pillow to soothe the earache, and watch movies on our outdated yet functional black and white television. My grandfather was a TV repairman and he had handed down the refurbished set, salvaged from his shop.
I watched many films with my mother, not always because of my ears, but occasionally because she wanted the company. I was a sensitive and quiet child who recognized that my adult-like behavior was a mitigating factor in affording me the chance to stay up late with mom.
My brothers never knew of the secret pact between us. I often wondered if she invited them to watch TV late into the night but preferred to think I was the sole accompanist of her viewing parties. I will always remember the first time I saw the film The King and I. I was 7 years old. The impact of the images ingrained in my memory; the costumes, the sets, the singing, the dancing, the music, the children (so many of them) and such exotic lands in far away places.
Who was this woman with the curly-headed boy who travelled to a distant land? I marvelled at the story and characters and compared them to my seemingly uneventful life. My father had died when I was a baby just like the boy in the story. His mother was beautiful, as was mine, and they lived in fear of the future with limited resources but endeavoured put their best foot forward. Much like we did.
I got swept away in with each song, each line and each lingering glance of longing and desire.
It was at such an early age that I started to develop an attachment to cinema and the ability to identify with the characters and immerse myself into the conflicts, goals and obstacles. I daydreamed about my future in similar situations.
Back then our television was only black and white, but my memories are Technicolor! Over the years I have revisited that port in Siam where Anna first set foot in a land she was destined to find true love which each viewing as fresh and impactful as the first.
One of my all-time favorite lines as quoted by Yul Brenner, Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I watched the movie some 40+ years later with my 7-year-old granddaughter. I was initially worried that she’d be bored with the story since it was a period piece set in a time she wasn’t familiar with. Then I realized that it was the same as when I had watched it. She was just as enthralled by the song and dance as I was. I mean really….? How can you doubt Rogers and Hammerstein?
Emma, my granddaughter, was incredibly impressed when I joined in whistling and singing the song, I Whistle a Happy Tune. If I remember correctly, that song was the reason that I learned to whistle. I wanted to be able to master the same skills as my beloved heroine.
Lundi après-midi, il faisait -13°C et le vent était glacial. Brrrrrrrr! On s’est encore une fois entraînés à se faire des passes d’un bout à l'autre de la patinoire et certains ont pratiqué le freinage. On a encore fait deux grandes équipes (celle de Kilani et celle d’Alison) et on s’est mis à jouer. Cette fois-ci, c'était moins anarchique que la dernière fois!
Monday I awoke to a team of young students painting bright images in our back alley. I walked out the gate for a closer look and to ask them about the project. A joint effort from private, corporate and government forces aimed to improve areas of Montreal where low-income or high risk youth live. Besides painting games and activities like hop-scotch and snakes and ladders, the crew is due to return at the end of the month to plant greenery and tame the unruly vegetation.
Unfortunately, as the young artists worked on the colorful creation, dark clouds rolled in. Within a few hours the sky let loose and giant drops splattered the ground. I ran inside for my camera and when I returned this was all I saw. Hopefully they’ll be back to finish when the sun dries everything off again.
Some friends were visiting from the west coast so we celebrated their last evening in Montreal by dining at a restaurant that was recommended to our group of six. Having recently relocating to this historic city (June 18th, 2012) I’m fortunate to have been introduced to Restaurant l’Express (Near Station Sherbrooke in Le Plateau-Mont Royal ). A place I would quickly understand to be one of Montreal’s ‘landmark’ bistros. (Zagat Guide)
We hovered on the sidewalk wondering if we were at the correct address. No sign, no address… just a menu posted outside the door. We skimmed the page, heard the clanking and hubbub from within and opened the door to be greeted by alluring aromas and enticing atmosphere.
We were completely famished from an exhausting day sightseeing (On foot… Ouch!) and devoured 2 baskets of bread while we looked at our menus. I’m sure it was good, but I could have eaten cardboard at that point and been satisfied. I read the descriptions of dishes on the multilingual menu. The traditional bistro fare offered a well-rounded choice of appetizers and entrées that delighted everyone at our table. I started with a refreshing ceviche followed by a warm goat cheese salad. I couldn’t even consider any other entrée once I discovered they offered Risotto au Homard (Lobster) as a special.
I was in heaven. As each dish arrived there was a flurry of forks being passed about to sample followed by resounding approval of each item. We ordered a bottle of red wine, Domaine Perrin Nature Syrah Blend 2009, which was lovely but had horrible sediment. The bottle was about 80% finished when the waiter noticed and swiftly lifted my grit filled glass and removed the bottle from the table. With all honesty, I fulled expect him to return with a replacement but as time passed by I realized he had craftily averted what he judged to be potential trouble. I don’t think he was aware I had observed the entire “cover-up”.
I choose not to mention it to my dining companions since none of them seemed affected and there was no need to spoil what was otherwise a perfect meal. The ambiance was cheerful yet classically elegant. The service was relaxed but efficient. Despite the fact that the room was at capacity (hopeful diners drooling on a wait-list) our reservations secured a no rush, leisurely meal.
The highlight of the evening came after the main course. We selected a variety from the menu and were warned by the waiter who stood in awe of our indulgent requests, “That’s a lot of dessert!”
When the sugary treats were delivered to our table the surrounding customers gasped, oohed and awed! Mine was the most amazing of all, Ille Flottante avec Caramel. A mountain of meringue floating in vanilla crème and topped with crispy glaze of caramel. Absolutely, hands down, the best dessert I have ever experienced. I was stuffed to the point of anguish by the time we waddled out into the muggy Montreal night.
There are few meals I’ve eaten that have prompted me to rave and reminisce let alone post a review. L’Express offered a challenge that will be hard to beat. Superb food, delightful ambiance, impeccable service all highlighted by fabulous table companions. Benny, Joanne, Martin, Karen and Atoosa… same time, same place, again next year?