Those three words
•noiembrie 14, 2009 • Scrieti un comentariu
Saruturi fara sfarsit
•noiembrie 12, 2009 • Comments Off
~~~~~
Anne Frank – Diary of a Young Girl, part 3
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 9,1942
Dearest Kitty,
Yesterday was Peter’s birthday, his sixteenth. I was upstairs by eight, and Peter and I
looked at his presents. He received a game of Monopoly, a razor and a cigarette
lighter. Not that he smokes so much, not at all; it just looks so distinguished.
The biggest surprise came from Mr. van Daan, who reported at one that the English
had landed in Tunis, Algiers, Casablanca and Oran.
“This is the beginning of the end,” everyone was saying, but Churchill, the British
Prime Minister, who must have heard the same thing being repeated in England,
declared, “This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is,
perhaps, the end of the beginning.” Do you see the difference? However, there’s
reason for optimism. Stalingrad, the Russian city that has been under attack for three
months, still hasn’t fallen into
German hands.
In the true spirit of the Annex, I should talk to you about food. (I should explain that
they’re real gluttons up on the top floor.)
Bread is delivered daily by a very nice baker, a friend of Mr. Kleiman’s. Of course,
we don’t have as much as we did at home, but it’s enough. We also purchase ration
books on the black market. The price keeps going up; it’s already risen from 27 to 33
guilders. And that for mere sheets of printed paper!
To provide ourselves with a source of nutrition that will keep, aside from the hundred
cans of food we’ve stored here, we bought three hundred pounds of beans. Not just
for us, but for the office staff as well. We’d hung the sacks of beans on hooks in the
hallway, just inside our secret entrance, but a few seams split under the weight. So
we decided to move them to the attic, and Peter was entrusted with the heavy lifting.
He managed to get five of the six sacks upstairs intact and was busy with the last
one when the sack broke and a flood, or rather a hailstorm, of brown beans went
flying through the air and down the stairs. Since there were about fifty pounds of
beans in that sack, it made enough noise to raise the dead. Downstairs they were sure
the house was falling down around their heads. Peter was stunned, but then burst into
peals of laughter when he saw me standing at the bottom of the stairs, like an island
in a sea of brown, with waves of beans lapping at my ankles. We promptly began
picking them up, but beans are so small and slippery that they roll into every
conceivable corner and hole. Now each time we go upstairs, we bend over and hunt
around so we can present Mrs. van Daan with a handful of beans.
I almost forgot to mention that Father has recovered from his illness.
Yours, Anne
P.S. The radio has just announced that Algiers has fallen. Morocco, Casablanca and
Oran have been in English hands for several days. We’re now waiting for Tunis.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1942
Dearest Kitty,
Great news! We’re planning to take an eighth person into hiding with us!
Yes, really. We always thought there was enough room and food for one more person,
but we were afraid of placing an even greater burden on Mr. Kugler and Mr. Kleiman.
But since reports of the dreadful things being done to the Jews are getting worse by
the day, Father decided to sound out these two gentlemen, and they thought it was an
excellent plan. “It’s just as dangerous, whether there are seven or eight,” they noted
rightly. Once this was settled, we sat down and mentally went through our circle of
acquaintances, trying to come up with a single person who would blend in well with
our extended family. This wasn’t difficult. After Father had rejected all the van Daan
relatives, we chose a dentist named Alfred Dussel. He lives with a charming Christian
lady who’s quite a bit younger than he is. They’re probably not married, but that’s
beside the point. He’s known to be quiet and refined, and he seemed, from our
superficial acquaintance with him, to be nice. Miep knows him as well, so she’ll be
able to make the necessary arrangements. If he comes, Mr. Dussel will have to sleep
in my room instead of Margot, who will have to make do with the folding bed.*
[*After Dussel arrived, Margot slept in her parents' bedroom.] We’ll ask him to bring
along something to fill cavities with.
Yours, Anne
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1942
Dearest Kitty,
Miep came to tell us that she’d been to see Dr. Dussel. He asked her the moment she
entered the room if she knew of a hiding place and was enormously pleased when
Miep said she had something in mind. She added “that he’d need to go into hiding as
soon as possible, preferably Saturday, but he thought this was highly improbable, since
he wanted to bring his records up to date, settle his accounts and attend to a couple
of patients. Miep relayed the message to us this morning. We didn’t think it was wise
to wait so long. All these preparations require explanations to various people who we
feel ought to be kept in the dark. Miep went to ask if Dr. Dussel couldn’t manage to
come on Saturday after all, but he said no, and now he’s scheduled to arrive on
Monday.
Case in rosu
•noiembrie 8, 2009 • Comments Off
“Casa la rosu” reprezinta constructia fara finisaje si fara partea exterioara a acoperisului (tigla, tabla, etc.). Include fundatia, ridicarea peretilor si structura acoperisului pe care se monteaza ulterior tigla sau tabla. De asemenea, in faza de „casa la rosu” nu este realizata nici partea de instalatii (cabluri electrice, tevile de apa/gaze, racordare la utilitati), acestea fiind adaugate ulterior.
~~~
****
Very cool movie, watch it
***
i want a loving kind sweet gentle childish friendly intelligent dreamer to be always with me
in such a heart i find my home
in such a face i find my smile
only such a person i can love
You.
Anne Frank – Diary of a Young Girl, part 2
•noiembrie 7, 2009 • Comments Off
~~~~~
Continuing
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 1942
Dearest Kitty,
Father has a friend, a man in his mid-seventies named Mr. Dreher, who’s sick, poor
and deaf as a post. At his side, like a useless appendage, is his wife, twenty-seven
years younger and equally poor, whose arms and legs are loaded with real and fake
bracelets and rings left over from more prosperous days. This Mr. Dreher has already
been a great nuisance to Father, and I’ve always admired the saintly patience with
which he handled this pathetic old man on the phone. When we were still living at
home, Mother used to advise him to put a gramophone in front of the receiver, one
that would repeat every three minutes, “Yes, Mr. Dreher” and “No, Mr. Dreher,” since
the old man never understood a word of Father’s lengthy replies anyway.
Today Mr. Dreher phoned the office and asked Mr. Kugler to come and see him. Mr.
Kugler wasn’t in the mood and said he would send Miep, but Miep canceled the
appointment. Mrs. Dreher called the office three times, but since Miep was reportedly
out the entire afternoon, she had to imitate Bep’s voice. Downstairs in the office as
well as upstairs in the Annex, there was great hilarity. Now each time the phone
rings, Bep says’ ‘That’s Mrs. Dreher!” and Miep has to laugh, so that the people on
the other end of the line are greeted with an impolite giggle. Can’t you just picture it?
This has got to be the greatest office in the whole wide world. The bosses and the
office girls have such fun together!
Some evenings I go to the van Daans for a little chat. We eat “mothball cookies”
(molasses cookies that were stored in a closet that was mothproofed) and have a good
time. Recently the conversation was about Peter. I said that he often pats me on the
cheek, which I don’t like. They asked me in a typically grown-up way whether I
could ever learn to love Peter like a brother, since he loves me like a sister. “Oh,
no!” I said, but what I was thinking was, “Oh, ugh!” Just imagine! I added that Peter’s
a bit stiff, perhaps because he’s shy. Boys who aren’t used to being around girls are
like that.
I must say that the Annex Committee (the men’s section) is very creative. Listen to
the scheme they’ve come up with to get a message to Mr. Broks, an Opekta Co. sales
representative and friend who’s surreptitiously hidden some of our things for us!
They’re going to type a letter to a store owner in southern Zealand who is, indirectly,
one of Opekta’ s customers and ask him to fill out a form and send it back in the
enclosed self-addressed envelope. Father will write the address on the envelope
himself. Once the letter is returned from Zealand, the form can be removed and a
handwritten message confirming that Father is alive can be inserted in the envelope.
This way Mr. Broks can read the letter without suspecting a ruse. They chose the
province of Zealand because it’s close to Belgium (a letter can easily be smuggled
across the border) and because no one is allowed to travel there without a special
permit. An ordinary salesman like Mr. Broks would never be granted a permit.
Yesterday Father put on another act. Groggy with sleep, he stumbled off to bed. His
feet were cold, so I lent him my bed socks. Five minutes later he flung them to the
floor. Then he pulled the blankets over his head because the light bothered him. The
lamp was switched off, and he gingerly poked his head out from under the covers. It
was all very amusing. We started talking about the fact that Peter says Margot is a
“buttinsky.” Suddenly Daddy’s voice was heard from the depths: “Sits on her butt, you
mean.
Mouschi, the cat, is becoming nicer to me as time goes by, but I’m still somewhat
afraid of her.
Yours, Anne
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 1942
Dearest Kitty,
Mother and I had a so-called “discussion” today, but the annoying part is that I burst
into tears. I can’t help it. Daddy is always nice to me, and he also understands me
much better. At moments like these I can’t stand Mother. It’s obvious that I’m a
stranger to her; she doesn’t even know what I think about the most ordinary things.
We were talking about maids and the fact that you’re supposed to refer to them as
“domestic help” these days. She claimed that when the war is over, that’s what they’ll
want to be called. I didn’t quite see it that way. Then she added that I talk about’
‘later” so often and that I act as if I were such a lady, even though I’m not, but I
don’t think building sand castles in the air is such a terrible thing to do, as long as
you don’t take it too seriously. At any rate, Daddy usually comes to my defense.
Without him I wouldn’t be able to stick it out here.
I don’t get along with Margot very well either. Even though our family never has the
same kind of outbursts they have upstairs, I find it far from pleasant. Margot’s and
Mother’s personalities are so alien to me. I understand my girlfriends better than my
own mother. Isn’t that a shame?
For the umpteenth time, Mrs. van Daan is sulking. She’s very moody and has been
removing more and more of her belongings and locking them up. It’s too bad Mother
doesn’t repay every van Daan “disappearing act” with a Frank “disappearing act.”
Some people, like the van Daans, seem to take special delight not only in raising their
own children but in helping others raise theirs. Margot doesn’t need it, since she’s
naturally good, kind and clever, perfection itself, but I seem to have enough mischief
for the two of us. More than once the air has been filled with the van Daans’
admonitions and my saucy replies. Father and Mother always defend me fiercely.
Without them I wouldn’t be able to jump back into the fray with my usual composure.
They keep telling me I should talk less, mind my own business and be more modest,
but I seem doomed to failure. If Father weren’t so patient, I’d have long ago given up
hope of ever meeting my parents’ quite moderate expectations.
continuă să citeşti ‘Anne Frank – Diary of a Young Girl, part 2′
Anne Frank – Diary of a Young Girl
•noiembrie 6, 2009 • Comments OffPartea 1 – for all of you who wanna read it…
~~
June 12, 1942
I hope I will be able to confide everything to you, as I have never been able to
confide in anyone, and I hope you will be a great source of comfort and support.
COMMENT ADDED BY ANNE ON SEPTEMBER 28, 1942: So far you truly have been
a areat source of comfort to me, and so has Kitty, whom I now write to regularly.
This way of keeping a diary is much nicer, and now I can hardly wait for those
moments when I’m able to write in you. Oh, I’m so alad I brought you along!
SUNDAY, JUNE 14, 1942
I’ll begin from the moment I got you, the moment I saw you lying on the table among
my other birthday presents. (I went along when you were bought, but that doesn’t
count.)
On Friday, June 12, I was awake at six o’clock, which isn’t surprising, since it was
my birthday. But I’m not allowed to get up at that hour, so I had to control my
curiosity until quarter to seven. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I went to the dining
room, where Moortje (the cat) welcomed me by rubbing against my legs.
A little after seven I went to Daddy and Mama and then to the living room to open
my presents, and you were the first thing I saw, maybe one of my nicest presents.
Then a bouquet of roses, some peonies and a potted plant. From Daddy and Mama I
got a blue blouse, a game, a bottle of grape juice, which to my mind tastes a bit like
wine (after all, wine is made from grapes), a puzzle, a jar of cold cream, 2.50 guilders
and a gift certificate for two books. I got another book as well, Camera Obscura (but
Margot already has it, so I exchanged mine for something else), a platter of
homemade cookies (which I made myself, of course, since I’ve become quite an expert
at baking cookies), lots of candy and a strawberry tart from Mother. And a letter from
Grammy, right on time, but of course that was just a coincidence.
Then Hanneli came to pick me up, and we went to school. During recess I passed out
cookies to my teachers and my class, and then it was time to get back to work. I
didn’t arrive home until five, since I went to gym with the rest of the class. (I’m not
allowed to take part because my shoulders and hips tend to get dislocated.) As it was
my birthday, I got to decide which game my classmates would play, and I chose
volleyball. Afterward they all danced around me in a circle and sang “Happy Birthday.”
When I got home, Sanne Ledermann was already there. Ilse Wagner, Hanneli Goslar
and Jacqueline van Maarsen came home with me after gym, since we’re in the same
class. Hanneli and Sanne used to be my two best friends. People who saw us together
used to say, “There goes Anne, Hanne and Sanne.” I only met Jacqueline van Maarsen
when I started at the Jewish Lyceum, and now she’s my best friend. Ilse is Hanneli’s
best friend, and Sanne goes to another school and has friends there.
They gave me a beautiful book, Dutch Sasas and Lesends, but they gave me Volume II
by mistake, so I exchanged two other books for Volume I. Aunt Helene brought me a
puzzle, Aunt Stephanie a darling brooch and Aunt Leny a terrific book: Daisy Goes to
the Mountains.
This morning I lay in the bathtub thinking how wonderful it would be if I had a dog
like Rin Tin Tin. I’d call him Rin Tin Tin too, and I’d take him to school with me,
where he could stay in the janitor’s room or by the bicycle racks when the weather
was good.
MONDAY, JUNE 15, 1942
I had my birthday party on Sunday afternoon. The Rin Tin Tin movie was a big hit
with my classmates. I got two brooches, a bookmark and two books. I’ll start by
saying a few things about my school and my class, beginning with the students.
Betty Bloemendaal looks kind of poor, and I think she probably is. She lives on some
obscure street in West Amsterdam, and none of us know where it is. She does very
well at school, but that’s because she works so hard, not because she’s so smart.
She’s pretty quiet.
Going South to Find Summer
•noiembrie 2, 2009 • 1 comentariu
..
Summer In The South
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
The Oriole sings in the greening grove
As if he were half-way waiting,
The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
Timid, and hesitating.
The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and pinety,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
Streams laugh that erst were quiet,
The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
And the woods run mad with riot.
~~
Watch:
sa te strang in brate, sa se plimbe mana pe spatele tau, sa ne sarutam, sa iti simt parfumul si dulceata buzelor… sa simt cand iti e cald sau frig sau cand zambesti sau cand visezi sau cand esti vesel sau cand vrei sa imi zici ceva sau cand orice, nu e nimic mai magic.
It was
•octombrie 29, 2009 • Comments Offwonderful
magical
inspiring
entertaining
perfect
Every song had a fresh short introductory video made specially for the concert, story-like; the most emotionally intense moment was the Earth Song moment; the man was the best entertainer ever; the movie is very nicely put together and music is great; the dancers are awesome and were picked from all round the world
for Smooth Criminal there was a 1950s bar and a woman singer and welp mafia; for Thriller there were zombies and flying dead brides and grooms
he told the crew give all your your humbleness and your best cause the people that is what they look for, escapism
and the director, that ortega guy, seems very nice
~and we had the best seats in the room
for the They don’t care.. they multiplied the ten dancers to create the impression of an army. i bet it’d have been the best show ever. instead it was a movie
and he does or intended to give thanks to his dad too, along with his mom and brothers during the jackson 5 moment
was cool
:) and said he soo loved trees, who doesn’t.
and no more, cause you gotta see it yourself.
Histoire
•octombrie 29, 2009 • 1 comentariu
story. a love story. an accident on the highway. the tree machine. making way for.. progress.
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