Saturday, September 8, 2007
the water droplet theory ... :D
That only rain droplets are almost spherical and that artificially sprinkling water does not cause that effect and hence one has to wait for the rains for such photographs. That was my brother who took the pic. We both missied to see the droplet at the top, else we would have focused more on it, it would have made a great photo.
and the continuation...
inquisitive we were ( me and my bro) about what the bunch of some 20 30 butterflies were doing at the plant... we both had different opinions, he surmised it would be sh**t, i, said could be eggs :D ... i should have gone home the next weekend to assertain if it indeed was eggs that they were depositing. he he .... our own little animal kingdom at home..
latest addition : June 2011
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Small_White
species of the butterfly and they were infact eggs.
latest addition : June 2011
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Small_White
species of the butterfly and they were infact eggs.
Home
Back after a fresh dose of "home"otherapy ;) I like going home even though it aches when its time to return to the boring office life and disturbs the adjustment i have made with life here alone as one more single IT professional. It makes me yearn for that life full of essence, with ppl caring for you and proud of you, ofcourse, in vain. This certainly does not mean iam complaining about my being single, and definitely not about a missing life partner. It beats me to think that the only solution to this, so some think(like my mom and brother), is marriage! can you have no more of your family, of mom and dad, now?
I still want to be pampered by my mom and fight with my dad and feel iam a kid. Still want to spend lousy weekend afternoons setting the home right, dusting off the old book shelves, rummaging after old memories meanwhile. To run after the insects in the garden pretending as if they still fascinate me the way they did a decade back (may be they still do :) )trying to interest mom and dad into this, to play (yes play!) with myself and involve everyone at home in my merry playing. To expend the senseless time in a rather senseless way, hOme is one place where time does not scare me as often as it does anywhere else. This gets all the more merrier with none of my family members missing and beyond compare when it rains, especailly if its a home like mine surrounded by the dense green brazen moors of the city outskirts.. somehow reminds me of the homesickness JR tolkien had mentioned about the hobbits having it upon leaving their cozy hobbit holes.
Seems like iam still not out of that reverie, and still not struck by the blunt office life yet. Its time to wake up from my dream and work! for money? :O ? :)
Seems like iam still not out of that reverie, and still not struck by the blunt office life yet. Its time to wake up from my dream and work! for money? :O ? :)
Monday, July 23, 2007
Eternal Sunshine Of a Spotless Mind
Ah wretch! believ'd the spouse of God in vain,
Confess'd within the slave of love and man.
Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?
Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!
How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,
And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how distinguish penitence from love?
Unequal task! a passion to resign,
For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine.
Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
How often must it love, how often hate!
How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
Conceal, disdain--do all things but forget.
But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,
Renounce my love, my life, myself--and you.
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
Source: http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/1630.html
background:
------------
The poem is an example of a genre represented in Latin by Ovid's Heroides. These heroic epistles are always addressed by a woman to a man who has abandoned her. The situations require an "heroic" treatment because they involved important personages. The heroes represent what one critic has described as "sorrowing or rebellious love." Peter Abailard (1079-1142), at thirty-eight a famous scholar, became at this time the tutor of Eloisa, the eighteen-year-old niece of Fulbert, the canon of Paris. Their passionate secret love resulted in Eloisa's conceiving, whereupon Abelard removed her to Brittany. After refusing to agree to marriage for a long time because it would ruin Abelard's career in the church, Eloisa finally consented and the couple returned to Paris for a secret wedding. But the uncle's anger revived. Abelard took Eloisa to a convent at Argenteuil where she was professed as a novice. Her uncle then paid ruffians to attack Abelard in his lodgings and castrate him. After his various attempts at monastic life, students again gathered about Abelard and built him the halls and church of the Paraclete, sixty miles from Paris. Further persecution by his enemies or fear of them eventually led him to accept the Abbey of St. Gildeas in Brittany. When Eloisa's nuns were expelled from Argenteuil, he offered them the Paraclete and visited them as a spiritual director, until his visits caused scandal. Eloisa began the correspondence after a letter, addressed to an unfortunate friend, describing his adversities as a means of comforting the friend, fell into her hands.
Confess'd within the slave of love and man.
Assist me, Heav'n! but whence arose that pray'r?
Sprung it from piety, or from despair?
Ev'n here, where frozen chastity retires,
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
I ought to grieve, but cannot what I ought;
I mourn the lover, not lament the fault;
I view my crime, but kindle at the view,
Repent old pleasures, and solicit new;
Now turn'd to Heav'n, I weep my past offence,
Now think of thee, and curse my innocence.
Of all affliction taught a lover yet,
'Tis sure the hardest science to forget!
How shall I lose the sin, yet keep the sense,
And love th' offender, yet detest th' offence?
How the dear object from the crime remove,
Or how distinguish penitence from love?
Unequal task! a passion to resign,
For hearts so touch'd, so pierc'd, so lost as mine.
Ere such a soul regains its peaceful state,
How often must it love, how often hate!
How often hope, despair, resent, regret,
Conceal, disdain--do all things but forget.
But let Heav'n seize it, all at once 'tis fir'd;
Not touch'd, but rapt; not waken'd, but inspir'd!
Oh come! oh teach me nature to subdue,
Renounce my love, my life, myself--and you.
Fill my fond heart with God alone, for he
Alone can rival, can succeed to thee.
How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
Alexander Pope (1688-1744)
Source: http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/1630.html
background:
------------
The poem is an example of a genre represented in Latin by Ovid's Heroides. These heroic epistles are always addressed by a woman to a man who has abandoned her. The situations require an "heroic" treatment because they involved important personages. The heroes represent what one critic has described as "sorrowing or rebellious love." Peter Abailard (1079-1142), at thirty-eight a famous scholar, became at this time the tutor of Eloisa, the eighteen-year-old niece of Fulbert, the canon of Paris. Their passionate secret love resulted in Eloisa's conceiving, whereupon Abelard removed her to Brittany. After refusing to agree to marriage for a long time because it would ruin Abelard's career in the church, Eloisa finally consented and the couple returned to Paris for a secret wedding. But the uncle's anger revived. Abelard took Eloisa to a convent at Argenteuil where she was professed as a novice. Her uncle then paid ruffians to attack Abelard in his lodgings and castrate him. After his various attempts at monastic life, students again gathered about Abelard and built him the halls and church of the Paraclete, sixty miles from Paris. Further persecution by his enemies or fear of them eventually led him to accept the Abbey of St. Gildeas in Brittany. When Eloisa's nuns were expelled from Argenteuil, he offered them the Paraclete and visited them as a spiritual director, until his visits caused scandal. Eloisa began the correspondence after a letter, addressed to an unfortunate friend, describing his adversities as a means of comforting the friend, fell into her hands.
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