FundiFUN: Bon Jour

8.5.09

Bon Jour

1990 yilinda, universitenin 2. yili idi, Fransiz Kultur'e yazildim. Biraz fransizca ogrenmeliyim sevdasi ile... 4 kur kadar gittim fekat sonra ask mesk hayati derken asmaya basladim kursu...4 kurun bile bana inanilmaz faydalari oldu. Latin kokenli dillerin temeliniş cozer gibi oldum. Hatta 1993 yilinda 8 ayligina Italyada kaldigim zaman sadece bu 4 kur sayesinde 3 ayda italyanca konusur duruma geldim. Sonra 2001 yilinda tursitik bir gezi icin Togoya gittigimde resmi dilleri Fransizca oldugundan konusulanlarin tumunu rahatlikla anlayabildim...Bir de 2004 yilinda ispanyolca kursuna gittiydim 1 sene... Tabii orada italyanca daha cok yardimci olmustu...Laf aramizda, tumu icinde en zoru İspanyolcadir bunu cok rahatlikla soyleyebilirim...Sadece bu 4 kur sayesinde...devam etseydim ne olurdu bilinmez... Belki bu seviye zaten benim sinirimdi daha oteye gecemezdim ya da belki super fransizca konusurdum...kimin umurunda...

Ha bir de o zamanlar kisa filtresiz Camel sigara icerdim... Ne manyaklik...Entel takilma modlarinda...vay vay vay....Kamel derdik..."Abi kisa kamel var mi?"...Pöööh

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Kafka Sahilde

'Biz hepimiz sürekli değerli bir şeylerimizi kaybediyoruz' dedi zil sesi kesildikten sonra.'Önemli fırsatları, olasılıkları, bir daha asla yerini dolduramayacgımız duyguları. Hayatta olmanın bir anlamı da bu işte. Fakat kafamızın içinde, ben kafamızın içinde olduğunu sanıyorum, öyle şeyleri bellek haline getirebilmemiz için küçük bir oda var. Herhalde kütüphanenin depo kısmı gibi. Dahası bizler kendi yüreğimizin ne durumda olduğunu takip edbilmek için, sürekli arama kartları yapmak zorudayız. O odayı temizlememiz, havalandırmamız, çiçeklerine su vermemiz de gerekiyor. Başka bir deyişle sen sonsuza kadar kendi kütüphanende yaşayacaksın.'

Kafka on the Shore/Murakami

“Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.”

The Story

All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you
I climbed across the mountain tops
Swam all across the ocean blue
I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules
But baby I broke them all for you
Because even when I was flat broke
You made me feel like a million bucks
You do
I was made for you
You see the smile that's on my mouth
It's hiding the words that don't come out
And all of my friends who think that I'm blessed
They don't know my head is a mess
No, they don't know who I really am
And they don't know what
I've been through like you do
And I was made for you...
All of these lines across my face
Tell you the story of who I am
So many stories of where I've been
And how I got to where I am
But these stories don't mean anything
When you've got no one to tell them to
It's true...I was made for you