Poetry then

So what is it? About my country? My country is exactly how Nazim describes it. I dont think anything changed. My country is its people, with all adjectives, brave, ignorant, utterly smart and yet deceived over and over again. They are my people. With the soft smile in their eyes, their affection for complete strangers and their high potential to hurt the ones closest to them. My people who love their country so much yet f.ck it up each single day.

Yes Nazim writes my country, in every single line. His Turkish for one thing, is our Turkish. The rythm can come from mayakovsky and ideas from Marx and the Soviet, yet it is our Turkish and our people. He was one person, who wasn't lost in himself, as a poet. There aren't many. For to write poetry about the people and not about oneself, requires a big big big heart, which he had. Here I will easily claim, that not one Swedish poet could have emerged even close to this expressiveness, plain and real and yet, each time I read it, I cry, freely.

This one I had not read before in Turkish I think, the guy was futuristic:

Yes he was naively futuristic. For one could be naively this and that in those years. Post the second world war, soviets still thriving. Although he was naive in his beliefs, for he was a man of belief I believe, he was not naive in his poetry in this observations. He may read biased, he was and proud of it! But never simplistic. He was not simplistic. He was from a rich family, had read and learned a great deal, had traveled to Russia when young and studied. He had a clear mind.

I saw just on a page browsing the web, that there are people with wolf pictures as profile photos that like Nazim. This should be the power of a true poet. As, in Turkey, wolf is being a Turk fanatic, holding Turks above other races, in other words, being a fachist.

I am yet to meet anyone in Turkey, who would speak truly badly about Nazim, funny. Even our literature teacher who would mumble all day long about I don't know what, who would talk not more sophisticated than a village man with no education, who was outright islamist and so on.. They claim that one could read Nazim's poem in his lecture to get a grade. Even him.

nazim hikmet ran II

It is surprisingly hard to find good translations. A translation should keep meaning that is well but it should also try to keep the music, the rythm and it seems to achieve both at the same time is hard(?). I will start a translation series myself I think. But for now make do with some selections:

Angina Pectoris

If half my heart is here, doctor,
the other half is in China
with the army flowing
toward the Yellow River.
And, every morning, doctor,
every morning at sunrise my heart
is shot in Greece.
And every night,c doctor,
when the prisoners are asleep and the infirmary is deserted,
my heart stops at a run-down old house
in Istanbul.
And then after ten years
all i have to offer my poor people
is this apple in my hand, doctor,
one read apple:
my heart.
And that, doctor, that is the reason
for this angina pectoris--
not nicotine, prison, or arteriosclerosis.
I look at the night through the bars,
and despite the weight on my chest
my heart still beats with the most distant stars.

Trans. by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk (1993)



And then there is this one, which I am not going to quote:

nazim hikmet ran

Everyone's country is somethings to that person. Say you may remember family, friends, summers and springs and trees and girls. I think of Nazim Hikmet.

Last Will and Testament

Comrades, if I don't live to see the day - I mean if I die before freedom comes - take me away and bury me in a village cemetery in Anatolia.

The worker Osman whom Hassan Bey ordered shot can lie on one side of me, and on the other side the martyr Aysha, who gave birth in the rye and died within 40 days.

Tractors and songs can pass below the cemetery - in the dawn light, new people, the smell of burnt gasoline, fields held in common, water in canals, no drought or fear of the police.

But I sang those songs before they were written, I smelled the burnt gasoline before the blueprints for the tractors were drawn.

As for my neighbours, the worker Osman and the martyr Aysha, they felt the great longing while alive, maybe without even knowing it.

Comrades, if I die before that day - and it's looking more and more likely - bury me in a village cemetery in Anatolia, and if there's one handy, a plane tree could stand at my head, I wouldn't need a stone or anything.

• Nazim Hikmet, 27 April 1953, Moscow

happiness in life

sometimes i imagine that the happiness in my life can be measured by the kilos of strawberry, cherry (not the sour type), mulberry and canerik that I have eaten all my life in season! Add to that figs as well. That only in season counts is fairly obvious to those who have eaten these things in season.

I can probably make a good graph of my happiness in life which holds on to a good high during the first 14 years when I lived at home. Decreases constantly from the beginning of high school to end of university, goes to an all time low in Sweden with short highs for june when those incredible strawberries come out. Here in the middle East, I wouldn't say it is so much better. Surprisingly.

before the journey

I packed somewhat. Changed handbag.

Played some stuff to get calmer.

Called the local company but they are busy so they are supposed to call back.

Solved some problems.

Checked on regular expressions and shell programming loops.

Solving some more problems now.

working mode

At last I am out of the gaming days. What I see is that I am inclined to addiction, whatever the cause of the addiction might be. I drink from the cup until I am full and more and then will never want to see that cup again. I overdo things.

But it is not just that. I have been lazy simply. I could not get into that panic mode. I do feel shaky, literally shaky. This is true. However, it almost feels like there is nothing I can do. So I do not do anything.

It is complicated and I am only today facing this.

On one hand, what I feel is that I am at the very end of a long long long run, my whole life I have been running, have been running to meet this line specifically and I feel, "yeah, I have come so far, I managed" and this is enough somehow. So I stop running before crossing the line. The line has lost its importance along the way. But why? There was a reason that I wanted to cross that line. Because I wanted to be a runner. All my life I wanted to run on this very platform. And I am actually about to be eliminated. I should continue and cross the line.

On the other hand, I feel quite stupid. I have worked quite a bit in the last two months. The last 2 weeks have been a disaster though. I did not do anything. But I did put an extraordinary effort before. But still I can not solve things. I am afraid. When I see a new problem I feel "I will never be able to solve this". So I feel like giving up, every step of the way. Therefore, whatever the panic necessities are, I suppress them and do nothing.

I have 4 days left. Not even that much.

Why why am I like this? There should be an evolutionary, genetic bla bla explanation about this. It can not be just me. Soon it will all be over.

Metaphore

Homer says that Delusion is a goddess with sensitivity - with sensitive feet anyway!- in the lines,
"Her feet are so sensitive that she steps over men's heads rather than lighting upon the ground"

Plato - Symposium

Goals

I am trying for a more professional life with having some goals each day and trying to accomplish them. Today was like this:

• Understand the major elements of the course material DONE
• Hand in documents to HR DONE
• Hand in modified course outline DONE
• Hand in QM installation prerequisites DONE
• Hand in QM installation milestones NOT DONE
• Cook DONE (very successfully)
• Go to office and pick up mail NOT DONE
• Do sports NOT DONE

5-3 I beat for my first day.

the Love Inside

really it is just a matter of being mortal. so many things we want to do, so many things we want to be. yet life has a limited many moments to be those things.

i guess this is how it has to be. tip top toe. everything has to be worked for.

tip is the reading. Nejib Mahfuz transfers me to late 19th century(?) Egypt, with its changing face, its efforts of independence from the British, its women who look at life from behind house windows.

top is the massive amount of jobs that I am joggling in my mind. Currently I have 4 jobs. Everyone is independent of the other.

toe is the literal toe. a woman's all end need caring: i need manicure, pedicure, facial and some other stuff to be done while I have "time".

yet what do I do? spend my time trying to decide what I should be doing.

Once upon a time in the bank

I am sitting in the bank. From the way things are you would think I am having a baby. Yet I am very much
NOT having a baby. Documents in documents out.
Thinking of Adaptation. Why did the successful writer with the proper husband start sleeping with the
orchid hunter? I guess that is where part of the meaning of life lies.
Movie script idea: A new substance is found. These types of substances should have a medical name but
I cannot come up with it. This new substance is like LSD. It enchances the "effects" of human perception.
But does not produce any damage to the human body. Just changes the way people think/feel/focus/perceive.
Would it still be banned? Would people refuse to take it as it is "opium"? Really what is reality if the
way we perceive things may change? (I know there are still logical statements, a list of propositions that
are either true or false, the knowledge banks remain. Yet, what if suffering out of at least boredom or
hunger can be decreased. What does it all mean then?)
I suspect that I am sunstruck. Not because of all this stuff that I am coming up with in the middle of
middleware testing. My brain seriously hurts and I am scared to get out on the street again to get the car.

Life in the limelight

Lucida grande is its...

Life is very complicated. I have a few jobs in the pipeline. Yet none of them are working out for me. At the same time all of them are great. On top of this, I have problems getting out of my current job.

I do not know what I want. Seriously. Life seems never to be simple.

Today I was at an interview in the university. Funny how I am called in long long after I banged on their doors for months and months. They need someone to start teaching a course in 10 days. I sensed a clear desperation. And the HR lady was so happy to have someone with husband's visa. Ah how degrading all these are for education.

I suppose I was not selected or else I would have heard from them. No problems. This is all fine. The only thing is I have wasted around an hour. It is ok.

J is dating someone else! I think she is German! I can not believe that he has left the woman that he "invested" so much in.

So it required a german to forget the investments, turk was not enough.

I can say it loud and simple: "He does not know what he has missed. "

Uzuldum tabi. Uzulmez olur muyum? Daha ama ne uzuntuler bekliyor yanibasimda. Cok daha kotusu olabilirdi. Ve de olacak nasil olsa.

I have given a constructive decision I will channel my frustration to exercise. I will think about all the stuff that is building in me while I exercise to bring out some extra energy. As I am one of the people that frustrates the most on things, there should never be a lack of extra energy.

Now the weekend getaway is over and I feel that I am back to all problems, which I suck at solving = Frustration

dreams

I don't want to abuse this place and write all kinds of junk just because I am bored. But I just can not help this one.

I had a late night. Still halfway in mutithreading, and half dizzy, plus very thirsty.

I had dreams, a lot of them. But one I remember clearly. Disturbing how some people so strongly symbolize certain feelings for me. How many years it has been, and I still dream of particular people once -twice a year to express the same feelings coming from the subconscious.

Seems sometimes dreams tire us. They are just too much to take. Too much excitement, too much expectation...

demanding

Not that I am sorry for myself.

Yet I feel that life is demanding. Demanding for those who have the luxury of time and possession I guess.

Yet there it is. I look at myself, and I feel this huge body of demands pressing on me.

1. To be good-looking in every way possible. To be thin, with good skin.
2. To dress well and for occasion and to be sexy when it be and proper when in public and with style and all
3. The above to is nothing compared to... I was supposed to be a great theoretician, know all logic and all kinds of verification methods and proof tools
4. I am supposed to know all kinds of security things as I have certificates and I should have a career in something
5. I am supposed to know something about mobile phone security, after all I did a ph.d on that (or did I?)
6. And then I should know all about telecomm stuff, about PBXs, about agent applications and SS7 and SIP and RTP. I should definitely know ALL about Genesys. And some about Avaya at least.
7. AND I should know ALL ALL about programming languages, at least everything on Java and C++ (albeit I never had the time to really work on them to do a real industry type application) . Remember all types of algorithms, and data structures. Be expert on computer architecture and multithreading and databases.
   
8. At the same time, I should be able to do web stuff in the blink of an eye be it JSP, PHP, Ajax.. Throw in there some .NET stuff as well.

(Note that I did not put in anything about being social, doing sports etc. Tired of even writing on these.)

Thing is we as scholar people should be open-minded, good at learning and maintaining our minds in top shape; however, all I see is that my life is toiled away working at all kinds of times and not feeling at ease. Ever. What have I done seriously to deserve this?

The real problem I see in life is not doing things. But knowing what one should be doing at a particular time.

ordan burdan gelismelerlerle karsinizdayiz

Bugunlerden birinde dogmus oldugunu saniyorum. 11 Agustos olabilir. Anmis olduk onu da boylece.

Okumak istiyorum. Baskalarinin hayatlarinda unutmak istiyorum kendiminkini. Bir zamanlar super bir alinti sayfasi bulmustum. Hatta orada alinti yapabilmek icin yanip tutusmaktaydim. O sayfa kayboldu ortadan. Ariyorum ariyorum yok. Ya google yedi facebook alintilari icinde kayboldu, ya da zaman yedi, sayfayi yonetemediler. O zamanlar ne blog vardi, ne facebook. Genctik, guzeldik.

Simdi bakiyorum. Hicbir sey cozum gelmiyor. Hani sunu yapmayi ozledim desem, o da yok. Kendim olmayi ozluyorum tabi. Icmeye gittigimiz aksamlari ozluyorum. Bir noktada hep onemli hissederdim, bir yerlere ait hissederdim. Aitligi ozledigimi de iddia edemeyecegim. Su evde otururken. Anlamsiz bir yaklasim olur.

Saatleri ayarlamaya baslayacagim yakinda. Anlamsiz bir ay gecirip yoruldum. Anlamsiz.

Recollection

He said:
- My roommate is gone. Would you come with me, to my room, pleaaase?

I probably said yes. Just yes.

We slowly approached the room, did not meet anyone on the way.

I walked in. The room looked bare. I thought maybe the only clothes he had brought were the ones on him. The room was bare. The two beds on top of each other, the wardrobe, the table. The table was bare, except for a perfume bottle, Jean Paul Gaultier, in the shape of a human without head, arms and legs. I did not look out the window, I think.

And then we lay at the bottom bed. As much as we could fit. We kissed perhaps. Kissing had not worked for us somehow. (I should have understood the implications of this but I did not. ) And then we lied there.

Frustratingly, we talked. He held me and we talked. His choice of subjects. Sex, house pets, our future life together.

Ceren'in Blog'u

Ceren'in yazilarini gorunce yazasim geldi. Evet hala yazabilen insanlar bulmak cok guzel.

Ugras Ugras

Cok ugrastim hayatta.

Once annemin hukmunden cikmaya ugrastim. Sonra lisede dersleri gecmeye ugrastim. Universitede not almaya ugrastim. Sonrasinda doktorayi bitirmeye ugrastim. Akabinde is bulmaya. Aralarda habire zayiflamaya ugrastim. Sonra isi bir sekilde goturmeye. Sonra tekrar is bulmaya.

Hakkaten artik yoruldugumu hissediyorum.

Isin garip yani, hic olmamamis gibi olmak imkanli degil. Soyle oldugum yerde kipirdamadan kalsam, ve de herkes unutsa varligimi.

Goksel - Hayat Ruya Gibi

Olsem de bir kalsam da bir
Benim icin yok hic farki
Sanki coktan unutulmus
Dillerden dusmus bir sarki

early inspirations

My interest in philosophy, in interpreting and structuring life in a theory can be attributed to one young woman.

The beautiful, quiet, extremely clever young woman that was such a woman even at that time that she refused to run. Literally. She would just move a little faster to catch the ball. She would not run. She already knew how she looked from all angles, at a time when we were just beginning to get to understand the need for a mirror.

She was not into philosophy as philosophy. Although she did read Simone De Beauvoir meticulously, she would not read any cold, detached reasoning.

What was she into then? At the time she was into people. They entertained her not in their relationship to her but as people. Subjects to observe, subjects to see. She was not into generalizing people. She was into generalizing persons, one by one.

Now I am trying to see and I think she has gotten into philosophy as a lifestyle, which is not philosophy at all. And she is the first person that I respect for that. Because I know how she believes, how she thinks and can guess how she still graciously moves at every step.

From where I left

I start again...

I should, for my own sanity.