Sunday, January 15, 2023
Reflections on knowledge and love
Thursday, January 12, 2023
A Flock Of Seagulls - I Ran (So Far Away) (Video)
Modern English - I Melt With You (Official Video)
Wednesday, January 11, 2023
Roadside Picnic by Arkady and Boris Strugatsky
The Soviet-Russian Strugatsky brothers Arkady and Boris wrote a brilliant book in 1971 that I have finally gotten around to reading--Roadside Picnic. I took the long way around to arriving at this book; as I've written in previous posts, I first watched the film Annihilation, which led to the film Stalker, which led to my reading the Southern Reach book trilogy (Annihilation, Authority, Acceptance). Book I-Annihilation--is the book on which the film Annihilation is based. After reading the trilogy, I read Roadside Picnic on which Stalker is based. I love when one book or film suggests another; that is the moment when everything around me feels expansive, limitless, full of possibility. A wonderful feeling of freedom, the freedom to move in any direction and to explore boundlessly......
I gave Roadside Picnic five stars on Goodreads, and wrote a review of it that I am posting here:
The Strugatsky brothers' sci-fi novel draws you into the world of the Zone and the Stalkers immediately. An alien visit to Earth (was it an alien roadside picnic) results in their leaving behind litter and artifacts that are localized to specific areas called Zones. One of these is located in the fictional town of Harmont in an unnamed English-speaking country. The Zone is not a safe area for human beings, rather, it is a minefield of dangers lurking almost at every turn. Few people who venture into the Zone return alive. But there are some few who do--the Stalkers. Redrick Schuhart is a Stalker, a man who leads others into the Zone so that they can explore/ retrieve items left by the aliens, as there is a black market for such items. He is married to Guta, and they have a little girl (nicknamed Monkey) who was born with a mutation (excessive body hair, almost like fur) like most of the children of stalkers. Normal life in Harmont is interspersed with descriptions of the Zone and the oddities/dangers that exist within it: hell slime, spacells, bug traps, the meatgrinder, vibrating 'ghosts', and a Golden Sphere that grants one's innermost wishes. The latter has legendary status, having only been seen (not experienced) by one old stalker named Vulture, who has lost his legs after contact with hell slime. He had wanted to retrieve the sphere for his own purposes, but ends up giving the map showing its whereabouts to Red. Red and the Vulture's son (Arthur) venture into the Zone in order to find the sphere, and their trek is the subject of the latter part of the novel. The novel is a phenomenal read from start to finish.
The novel truly is an incredible read, and I will likely reread it at some point. The film Stalker by Andrei Tarkovsky really did not do it complete justice, even though it was a good film. The book is better. Tarkovsky's film ultimately became too philosophical; I would have preferred that he focus on the alien and hellish aspects of the Zone much more, e.g., hell slime, the meatgrinder, and so on. Essentially I wish he had made a more sci-fi-oriented film. He did manage to impart an eerie feeling when the Stalker and the men he was guiding enter the Zone and must take care not to 'disturb' it in any way. But in my online research about the movie, I discovered that the screenplay was written by the Strugatsky brothers and was loosely based on their novel. So Tarkovsky's movie is really the movie that the Strugatsky brothers wanted made. Both the book and the movie are considered to be sci-fi classics.
Victorian Vampire Stories
It's rare to come across a collection of short stories that is so engaging as the collection I am reading now. Of course one must be an aficionado of vampire and horror stories to truly appreciate them, and I am. The only other collection of short stories in the horror genre that I feel the same way about was the one I read back in 2020--H.P. Lovecraft's horror stories. They were individual masterpieces for the most part and I wrote a post at that time about his stories and how much I enjoyed them: A New Yorker in Oslo: The creepy and engrossing stories of H.P. Lovecraft (paulamdeangelis.blogspot.com)
The collection of vampire stories I am currently reading is entitled Dracula's Guest: A Connoisseur's Collection of Victorian Vampire Stories, edited by Michael Sims (available on Amazon at Dracula's Guest (Connoisseur's Collections): Sims, Michael: 9781408809969: Amazon.com: Books ). The Victorian Era extended from 1837 to 1901 and was an era filled with social change and political reforms, despite being described as a repressive era, especially sexually. The stories in this collection were written/published during this time. You might think that the Victorians, being the straight-laced repressed people they are often described as, would not be writing (or reading) these types of stories. You'd be wrong. The writing styles are at times verbose and overly-descriptive, but the plots are engrossing, strange, and often creepy. There are stories about entire families that become vampires (The Family of the Vourdalak--quite scary if you can visualize it as an eventual movie, as I could), one about an invisible vampire (What Was It?), one about a very old woman whose younger companion, a male doctor, supplies her with young blood to keep her alive (Good Lady Ducayne), and one about a man who remarries after his first wife dies but who wishes that his first wife could live again (Wake Not the Dead). There are many others that are similarly strange and engrossing, so I recommend buying the book to read them all.
I found reading the short descriptions about the authors almost as interesting as the stories themselves. Leo Tolstoy's brother, Aleksei, wrote The Family of the Vourdalak; he was a talented writer in his own right. Good Lady Ducayne was written by Mary Elizabeth Braddon, considered to be a premier sensation novelist (one who wrote nerve-wracking and thrilling, sometimes titillating novels). Other stories were written by the romantic poet Lord Byron, and Anne Crawford (who came from a family of artists and writers). These writers may not have described everything in explicit detail, but there was no need to. Readers understand what is said and what is implied, and that is sufficient. These writers were in no way repressed; far from it.
Friday, January 6, 2023
Reflections on relevance, leadership, and freedom
Once you are no longer a part of the work world, a certain amount of your professional relevance disappears. For many people, that is the same as their professional identity, and it can be difficult to deal with that 'loss' of identity. Perhaps it is most difficult for those who had leadership responsibilities; it seems to be difficult for some to acknowledge that they are not 'in charge' anymore. They may cast around for new venues that will allow them to be in charge once again, and that can be somewhat disconcerting for those who know them. I don't feel that I've lost my professional identity now that I am no longer working. I am no longer relevant to my former workplace, that's true, but I trained as a scientist and a scientist I will always be. It's in my blood, in the same way as my love of books and movies is in my blood. I've always focused on keeping my personal identity alive. After all, even when I was working, I still had nights and weekends and vacations to pursue my hobbies and interests. And I did.
There is a lot of freedom in no longer having to be relevant to a workplace. I am now free to write and to verbalize about many aspects of workplaces with which I was dissatisfied. It won't lead to much in the sense that workplaces will continue doing pretty much what they've been doing; my opinions won't change them. But it feels good to have that freedom to comment on them, to not have to be so careful about what I say or how I say it. I've always taken good care to not be rude or destructive in my previous posts about workplaces, and that won't change. But I can now state more emphatically that I agree or disagree with this or that way of doing things. I was able to do that this past summer at a garden party, and it felt good. And one of my former leaders (who is no longer a leader) actually agreed with me, whereas when she was my leader, she would have probably told me that my comments were out of place. It made me view her in a new light, because I thought, ah yes, she too had to report to a leader above her, and that was probably not always the easiest thing to do. So I gained a new understanding of her and her attempts (mostly unsuccessful) at being a good leader. As I've stated before, most of the leaders I've had to do with have not been good leaders. And a few are honest and say that themselves. I'm not sure I would have been a good leader either, at least not a top-level leader. There's too much blah blah ad nauseam. I am solution-oriented; I don't want to meet and talk for hours about how to get something done, I want to discuss what needs to be discussed, come up with some plans for a solution(s) (if there are problems), and execute them. I am practical by nature, at least where the work world is concerned.
I've been a team and project leader and I've reported to several leaders above me during a long career. I've also participated in committee work at the highest leadership level at my former workplace and found it rather disappointing. I had a (rather) utopian view of it; I thought that there was much more freedom at the top level to set things in motion, to be innovative, to be efficient, to effect change. I found out that that wasn't necessarily the case; more often, it was frustrating work. There wasn't more freedom, because in the end, we are always having to answer to other people; we are never truly free. Top-level leaders must answer to the politicians who deal out the money that keeps public sector workplaces going. And unfortunately politicians don't always understand what's at stake or what is needed. Sometimes it amazes me that anything gets done at all in the public sector. But it does, so that's proof that things do work, albeit very very slowly and in a frustrating manner. I probably would have experienced less frustration in the private sector. But it's a moot point at this juncture in my life.
Tuesday, January 3, 2023
Train from Michigan--one of my early poems
I wrote this poem in 1988, three years after my father died, and published it in my first-ever collection of poems--Parables and Voices. I've decided to share some of my early poetry with you, as an introduction to my poetry writing. I've been writing for years, ever since I was fourteen years old. Poetry is a wonderful way to express one's feelings, and oftentimes one ends up with a poem that one could never have predicted from the outset. Train from Michigan is one of those poems.
Train from Michigan
I dreamed then of my father, I was
On the train; outside a yellow moon
Full-light circle against the blue-black sky.
His face came into memory
As I drifted in the sleep of transit,
That is uneasy and unsettled.
We crossed, from Michigan into Ohio,
The train's whistle blowing lonely
As though miles ahead of us--
Yet ever with us through the night.
I thought the thoughts of transit--
My father, dead these three years,
Perhaps traveled this same train
Bound from Michigan to New York.
He knew people in the north of Michigan,
Farmers and ultimately life-long friends.
I see his face, with me always.
My head rests lightly against the train window--
When I awake it is because my head has banged
And fallen against the window, jarring me.
I visit friends, they live in Michigan now
Having moved there from New York; hence my trip's purpose.
I meet new people on the way to visit old friends,
And think about old friendships as I make my way home.
New people I am always letting in; they find me or
We find each other--one in particular spoke of kindred spirits
On our way out to Michigan; his words surprised me.
Do they, these spirits, find each other?
Are we all in search of one?
About trains, I know they draw me so,
Luring me with the call to adventure,
Like a call to arms.
I boarded one, bound for Michigan,
And then one back, to New York.
Time spread out over hours of track--
Moving me, my life, along,
From one point to another.
Spreading me out, thin, fluid,
Over time which is suddenly the merger
Of past, present, future.
Like liquid spreading I see my life
Moving over these tracks, out and beyond,
Expanding to assimilate Michigan
As I have before incorporated other states
And other countries, American and European.
A fear that I can never belong to someone--
How could one keep me from flooding
Past the walls and out into the open spaces?
It is an abstract love of world I feel,
A pull to know what is unknown, but knowable.
To care for it, about it, accept it for itself,
The planet, the globe, its rivers and its land,
The farms and their greenness in the summer--
The land you pass through while travelling on a train.
Small towns and the people in them, suburbs and large cities,
Unknown, but knowable.
I look out, I know this river--
I grew up along it, knowing it stretched
For miles, out of my reach--I see it now
In places I never knew before
And feel the vastness of its beauty.
Back in New York, I grew up here,
But I have grown beyond it.
Copyright Paula Mary De Angelis, from Parables and Voices, published in 2011 and available on Amazon: Parables and Voices: A Collection of Poems 1973-2009: De Angelis, Paula Mary: 9781452838762: Amazon.com: Books
Saturday, December 31, 2022
New year, new beginnings
Ending this year on an optimistic note.... It's been a tough year for many people. Let's hope that the new year brings good health and many blessings to all those who are dealing with illness especially.
Friday, December 30, 2022
The sidewalks of Oslo in winter
I wonder each year, once winter comes, how it is possible that the city of Oslo appears not to care too much about its inhabitants slipping and sliding on the ice that coats most of the sidewalks. I've written about this before, but this year the problem seems even more pronounced. We have had a few snowfalls followed by sub-freezing temperatures, and that's usually fine. The problem arises when the snow melts over a period of a few days of above-freezing temperatures. The snow turns to slush, and then to ice once the temperatures drop again. Apartment and house owners do throw down some gravel, but it's not enough. The sidewalks and even the side roads are slippery as hell. I think the lack of consideration for others is appalling.
Our co-op maintenance fees are increasing considerably as of January. My question is what are we getting for this increase. Will the board approve more gravel and salt for the sidewalks? Will they hire a person or firm to shovel snow on a continual basis? Will they care about the elderly that live here? Do they care about them at present? It doesn't seem like it. They do hire a plow to clear the road in the inner courtyard so that emergency vehicles can navigate them. But if you want to leave your apartment to walk the short distance to the garbage house, you risk slipping and falling and breaking a bone or two. It's rather pathetic, especially as we approach 2023. Interestingly, the few co-op apartment dwellers who have complained on our co-op's Facebook page are young people, not elderly. The latter have probably given up in frustration; they know that they are not and never will be a priority in this city.
The city cares mostly about keeping the bicycle lanes free of snow; they plow them and scatter salt so that the snow melts and stays melted. All this for the miniscule percentage of city dwellers that actually bikes during the winter. The city should be plowing and salting the sidewalks as well. But of course we live in a city that prioritizes bicyclists, not pedestrians. There are far more of the latter, so it makes no sense. But this is the philosophy that the Green Party politicians are obsessed with; everyone should bike, year-round. It doesn't matter that it's bitter cold; you should just suck it up. If you need studded tires for your bicycle, their purchase is subsidized by the city (Støtte til sykkelpiggdekk (klimatilskudd.no). Like so many others, I'm weary of the Green Party pushing their agenda down our throats. Biking in the wintertime is a high-risk sport. I've been witness to near-fatal accidents with bicyclists in wintertime; one woman actually fell off her bike (hit a slippery patch) and nearly ended up under the wheels of a city bus that was right on her tail. A near miss; she was just lucky.
It's truly disappointing to realize that a city does not care very much about its inhabitants. It's not as though winter is a short season here in Norway. Even though Oslo does have mild winters at times, when it snows, the problem of snow and ice removal arises. The city doesn't seem to care too much that snow and ice removal from sidewalks is a problem. I guess they think it's ok that there are often record numbers of people who end up in the emergency room with broken bones. And those people are mostly children, young people and middle-aged folks. Elderly people don't dare to leave their homes very often. If they did the numbers would be even higher. I have to say that I just don't get it.
Sunday, December 25, 2022
Just light one candle
These are strange times we live in, but I suppose many generations before us and many that will come after us did and will say the same. It seems as though war, famine, poverty, natural disasters, manmade catastrophes, greed, corruption, inhumanity and lack of compassion will always be with us. Each generation seems to invent a new way to be unkind to humanity. And yet, humanity persists. There must be a reason for that. I believe it is because the numbers of good people in the world outweigh the bad. For all of the media focus on each act of evil in the world, there are probably many more acts of goodness. It's just that we don't hear about them very often. When I look at the number of volunteers around the world, I know that there are many people who make a difference for the better in other people's lives. Without volunteers, the world would truly be a poor place in which to live. People do care about others--about their families and friends, about strangers, about world problems. But most of us know that we cannot solve the big problems, so we support those we know who can and do. Most of us live and will live unremarkable lives; we will not achieve great things by worldly standards, but we do make a difference to those in our lives. And that's really all that matters. The important thing is that we love, try to love, fail at times, and that we try again. Most of us are trying to do our best, and that is what makes the difference, in our own lives and in the lives of those with whom we live and those we love. That doesn't mean that we are able to live each day in a cheerful and upbeat way; sometimes we are cranky, impatient, out of sorts, and dealing with our own aches and pains. It does mean that even when we don't feel like being nice, we try to be nice, because it matters. Sometimes a smile is all it takes to make another person feel ok. I know that's true for me. Or a simple small act of kindness; that can make my day. And then I have more of a desire to 'pay it forward'. So if that's true for me, I'm guessing it's true for others too.
I've written about this before, but in the end, if we light one candle rather than curse the darkness*, we have done something positive for humanity, for our fellow men and women. If we are that light to others, we guide them through the darkness. And sometimes the others are our guides. Regardless of who is holding the candle, the important thing is that the candle is lit and held by someone.
Wishing all my readers a blessed Christmas!
*Yet it is far better to light the candle than to curse the darkness. (W. L. Watkinson)
Jul, jul, strålande jul--a beautiful Swedish Christmas song
Monday, December 19, 2022
Lights in Oslo's winter darkness
at Aker Brygge |
at Aker Brygge |
at Aker Brygge |
at Aker Brygge |
at Aker Brygge |
looking out at the Oslo harbor area |
at Aker Brygge |
at the park at City Hall |
at the Christmas Market |
near the Christmas Market |
carousel at the Christmas Market |
the slide at the Christmas Market |
Grand Hotel |
a wonderfully-decorated florist's window |
tree lights |
Christmas trees for sale at Alexander Kielland's plass |
a local house decoration |
the Christmas tree in our co-op courtyard |
Christmas decoration at the Opera House |
Christmas decoration at the Oslo train station |
Christmas tree at the Oslo train station |
downtown Oslo |
the Mall of Oslo, downtown |
MÃ¥nefisken lit up for the season |
Wednesday, December 14, 2022
CBS Christmas Message (1966)
Saturday, December 10, 2022
Christmas In Italy (Natale in Italia)--Capitol Records
The Spinners--It's a Shame
I saw the movie The Holiday again recently, and one of the main characters had this song as his cell phone ringtone. I grew up with this mu...