27 fevereiro, 2012

über* 30 party!

(*über = acima de)


logo que cheguei a alemanha - no auge dos meus 22 anos - o anúncio de uma festa Ü30 (ou suas variacöes: über 40 ou über 50) me causou estranheza: imagina uma festa só pros "tiozinhos"?! quem vai?

choques-culturais-de-primeiras-semanas a parte, achei massa: imagina você, amiga dona de casa, na idade da loba, saindo com as amigue pra dancar até o chäo sem correr o risco de topar com a pirraiada.

daí que alguns anos se passaram e os vinte e poucos, se transfomaram em vinte e tantos (pra näo dizer quase-trinta), e a paciência pra lugares cheios de calouros a.ca.bou. solucäo: festinhas Ü30.

e tem pra todos os gostos: brega (alemäo), pop, rock, indie... pra näo correr o risco de ouvir backstreet boys! mas aí você pergunta: e com vinte e tantos pode? pode. com 28 e ACOMPANHADA de maior de 30 anos pode. rá!

e eu fui... toda serelepe de carteira de identidade na mäo pra näo ser barrada (como nos velhos tempos) e me sentindo a pirraia da noite (como nos velhos tempos).

pois é, colega ... it's official: "eu tô ficando velha, eu tô ficando louca".

21 fevereiro, 2012

postais de parede


Há anos tinha esses cartöes postais do Hundertwasser guardados esperando sei lá o que. Hoje eles saíram da gaveta e entraram numa moldura pra dar vida a um cantinho (já näo mais) morto de parede. =)

03 fevereiro, 2012

what a beautiful world

 You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you’d hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you’ll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they’ll be comforted to know your energy’s still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you’re just less orderly. Amen.

(Aaron Freeman “You Want A Physicist To Speak at your Funeral” publicado no Inside out)