:)

today I realised that hawthorn means ,galagonya' in hungarian. extremely nice word.e.g William Hawthorne would be Galagonya Vilmos.haahahahaaaa... that's all folks:D

Drums

Two weeks ago my school mates and me decided to have a drink somewhere while talking. We were having a nice conversation in a pub. The place closes at noon so our former senior at the freshman's camp offered his band's rehersal room as a continuation of the night.

We had a kind of funny trip till we reached our aimed place because most of us became an acrobat considering the amount of drinks consumed. Talking, drinking, giggling then the fatigue.

Finally three of us stayed there and I can say this was one of the best decisions made by me. I was let to beat the durms and Keke was playing the guitar. Then we started a little jamming which was odd and quite humorous at first because of the fact that the only instrument which I'd ever tried is piano.

After a while Balázs started to sing and we created a real song on the base of an Ady poem. My skills improved as well so the air could be considered a valuable piece of music. I enjoyed beating those drums so much! It released tension and was like a real cure. Every sound and every beat made me feel alive. Now I know what is joy music.

"And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for."
This is a quotation from Dead Poets Society. I watched this film 2 days ago and I would say that this is one of the films that I would set compulsory for everyone.

I often hear from people from who I ask about literature this tipical sentence: "I've never liked 'hungarian'." So we often separate the particles of our life into subjects. But I also think that this is also the responsibility of educational system and teachers. I don't think we should put literature and poetry into a box with a label: "Something you should study." I think this is the most subjective subject in the world.

Of course we should learn about famous poets and writers to establish basics. But we also should create our own opinion and a viewpoint. I think poetry should talk about everyday life but should be more than it. And its task is to break away from ordinary, monotonous problems and to enhance the will to solve them and not to fade away in them. Because numbers are only stand for a frame, but the picture itself should be personal, unforgettable, romantic and poetic.

I was thinking about whether publish one of my poems here or not (if it can be considered a poem), but finally I decided to do it. I don't want anybody to comment it if they don't want to, neither to lie about it. It's just a part of me, it was born in one moment of my life. It is in Hungarian I hope it doesn't bother you.

Tea

Alabástrom szépségű nő,
Ó Lucifer, igen, ez ő.
Forgatja a kardot, vív és lő,
Vele zuhansz és nincs ejtőernyő.
Hús a hússal, vér a vérrel keveredik,
Míg eszed ebből végül kikeveredik.
Forog, pörög, lüktet a tánc,
Kínzó, éget ez a vad románc.
Kezeden és szemeden ott a lánc
És sikít
És ráz
És elemészt
És vége.
Aztán rájössz délre,
Hogy sütteted a hasad az ágyban,
Forró víz már a kádban
És csak a cselédlány hozott teát.

Dalí the genious

One day I got lots of paintings on my computer by Salvador Dalí from one of my roomates. I have already known about his weird, surrealist style and it touched me as well but now I managed to see his work in a greater frame I would say.

He was born in Spain in 1904. Maybe his best known painting is The Persistence of Memory. He had a wide range of activities, he was a painter, a film maker, a sculptor and also a photographer. He also worked with such great names like Walt Disney and Hitchcock.

He left all the conventions, was willful and energetic. He supported Franco's regime in Spain, as a consequence he was excluded from the surrealist group. At which Dalí put a neat retort: "I myself am surrealism". When this sentence echoed in my head I realised its power. He was able to contradict his group and was able to rise above their expectations. He created himself as a notion. It needs a strong personality.

In his paintings he uses symbols like elephants, clocks or eggs. He rethinks reality and adds some spice to it. His point of view is always subjective and innovative, that's why it is so hard to emphatize with his artistic values and that's why it is so easy to notice them. Any different can be said about his photos and sculptures. Many of his works just can't be chategorised, the films are flubbergasting, one of them starts with a picture of cutting an eyeball with a razor.

Finally I'd like to add a quotation from him. "I am painting pictures which make me die for joy, I am creating with an absolute naturalness, without the slightest aesthetic concern, I am making things that inspire me with a profound emotion and I am trying to paint them honestly."-Salvador Dalí

Road to nowhere

Last night I watched a film. I just still can’t find words for that feeling. Amusing, terrifying, attacking, indescribable, touching, unbelievable and so real.

It was Requiem for a dream. A realistic work of art I would say. It is mainly about a mother and her son. Harry, the son is a drug addict trying to make money out of anything in touch. He starts a drug business, the goal is to create acceptable living conditions for him and his girlfriend. In the meantime his mother gets to know that she is going to be on tv, she has been selected for her favourite show. Her ambition is to be able to wear her old and beloved red dress. To reach this she starts to take pills in order to lose weight.

Things are getting worse and worse. Addiction, lack of money, helplessness. The mother becomes dizzy, her imagination plays weird and scary games with her. Got used to the pills, not feeling hunger. Harry loses his business and a serious infection starts to develop on his arm but he doesn’t care about it.

Results: an insane mother and a boy without an arm. Addicted to dreams. Something to live for, something to get up for each and every day. The way on we decided to walk to reach our goals must be more important than the goal itself. Because in most cases after we have succeeded we feel empty and are eager to find another reason to live. But those possessions, objects does not mean a thing in the last minute. Objects just can’t give us happiness, carefulness and love, they fade away on the road. But our good memories are the stones built in it.

starter

To start the new semester I'd like to share with you the results of a personality test about me:

trait snapshot:
messy, disorganized, social, tough, outgoing, rarely worries, self revealing, open, risk taker, likes the unknown, likes large parties, makes friends easily, likes to stand out, likes to make fun of people, reckless, optimistic, positive, strong, does not like to be alone, ambivalent about chaos, abstract, impractical, not good at saving money, fearless, trusting, thrill seeker, not rule conscious, enjoys leadership, strange, loves food, abstract, rarely irritated, anti-authority, attracted to the counter culture

I'm telling you that almost every detail is true.

and an additional info (my pictures, constantly updated): http://flickr.com/photos/rastavera

just run...

Do you feel sometimes that you are so full of energy that you cannot handle it anymore? Yesterday I felt something like this while sitting on my bed. I tried to study but my thoughts were somewhere else. I just couldn't concentrate on my duties, I had to do something. Finally I decided to change clothes and go to jog. I hate running I must say. But it was a moment when I hardly needed anyting than to feel speed and the wind blowing in my face. I went out of the building and started to run. I ran just for the joy of it, the world was mine, those trees, those parks and the darkness with its mysteries. The rain started to fall, first I didn't care about it but then I decided to go back.

I have to admit that it was pretty good. I thought that after jogging I would fall asleep fast. Actually it took some time but then I was sound asleep. My dreams were so colourful and humorous that I woke up at about 5 o'clock this morning. I never wake up until I sleep enough or the alarm clock rings. I don't know what happened to me, my head is quite dizzy but I can't sleep now. I'm still full of energy. Maybe those joyful things that happened to me recently have much influence on me.

Either this is the reason or not, I never believed that I would run just for the joy of it. It feels good.