Eclipse

They’re holding each other so closely
I can’t really tell which one is which.
Where’s the thin line you have to cross?

It feels like they’re gradually fading into each other,
and somehow they already have.
I can feel it, I know why.
But is it life, is it death,
is it sadness, is it happiness,
is it love, is it hate?

Like aurora and afterglow
they slowly shift into something else –
where does light end and darkness begin?

They lay you down on the rocks,
dash your face against the stones;
there’s no whither to fall.

Dankbar sein

Kinder die ihre Eltern verlieren sind Waisen. Aber wie bezeichnet man Eltern, die ihr Kind verlieren?

(Ich respektiere und teile die Ansicht des Autors, dass der Text keines Kommentars bedarf. Deshalb sind diese auch hier ausgeschaltet.)

I … you.

As a painter needs colours out of visible spectrum,
as a composer needs notes inaudible to human ears,
as an architect needs material not yet invented,
I need words missing in any language.

How else could I truly tell you
what I have been feeling for so long –
with a mediocre word such as like,
a banalized word such as heart,
or an overused word such as love?

But each word I create seems
even smaller, more inane, more picayune.
What good is language
if it barely describes and never names?

So let me simply say:
“I … you,”
while I spent the rest of my life
fabricating a meaningful enough language
to describe this, and you.

I’ve had enough.

As some of you may know, I am running Spam Karma 2 to prevent spam comments flooding my blog. It’s been working great, I only had to delete half a dozen comments since I’ve installed SK2. But things have slightly changed. SK2 is still working fine, but I am sick and tired of deleting hundreds of spam comments each and every day. At the beginning I quickly went through the comments SK2 caught in case it made a mistake, but over the last couple of weeks that has become virtually impossible – try checking some 800 spam comments every day. That’s why I decided to make commenting available only to registered users. I know some people hate registering, and I can understand that, I don’t like it myself, that’s why it took me so long to take that decision. It has one advantage though: there won’t be anyone misusing your name, and confusions such as whether the Chris from Pianocktail not being the same one as the guy from Chris.lu will not happen again. So you gain something as well after all. And, if you’re working on your own computer, you can activate the “remember me” function, so you never have to worry about logging in again.

If you don’t want to fill out the register form yourself, leave a comment and I’ll email you a username and password. (Don’t worry, you can easily change your password afterwards.) Logic and I have never been best friends. :D

I apologize for this inconvenience.

Beyond (Part 2): Coming Full Circle

The next day I walked down the same road again. Once more I didn’t know why, for I felt that what I had done the day before was all I had been there for. The man wasn’t sitting in the garden that day, but I could see some young people sitting in the meadow in front of the house. I decided to take the path along the house to sneak a peek at who they were, but as I walked past them one of them called my name. I got scared – the man wasn’t there and even if he had been I had never told him nor his daughter my name. As for what considered his daughter I had never even spoken to her. When I turned around however I realized it was on old friend of mine whom I hadn’t seen in quite a while.

She told me to come and sit with them, which I did although I felt uncomfortable – I kept asking myself where the man’s daughter was and if she didn’t mind me sitting there with her and her friends. A weird feeling I know, for only a day earlier I hadn’t thought about intruding into her home for a single moment and now I wasn’t even entering the house. I sat down and the other people introduced themselves. I didn’t know any of them, although I had a sense of déjà-vu with some.

I asked where the man’s daughter was and got told that she were inside getting some drinks. As soon as I had gotten the answer she came out of the frontdoor with a couple of bottles in her hand. She passed behind me and sat down some forty-five degrees anti-clockwise away from me in the circle we had spontaneously formed. I chatted with the people sitting next to me – my old friend and a random guy whose name I had already forgotten the second he told me.

Then suddenly she leaned forward, grabbed a bottle, got up, and handed it to me. She lingered for a moment, smiled at me and sat down again. Even though I only said a single word – thanks – it felt as if I had never had a more profound conversation. Maybe this time I wasn’t there to help, but to be helped. Or maybe that was the reason all along.

Beyond (Part 1): The Architect

I stopped to think for a moment and walked down the intersection road. I can’t really remember why; I reckon I didn’t even know the reason back then. It wasn’t the first time I did, but it felt different for the first time – as if someone had commanded me to walk there and I would only get the next order when I had arrived at the end of the road. Sometimes the way is the goal however and it didn’t take a long walk before I saw a man sitting in the garden next to his house with blueprints all over the table in front of him. I had only seen him once, in a setting almost as surreal as this one, and so I walked up to him to chat a bit.

He told me he was drawing the plans for his new house, to which I couldn’t but ask why, as he already had a beautiful house. He replied that he loved to build new things, and that tearing down this house and building a new one would hopefully help him better the relationship with his daughter. Before I could ask if he’d minded clarifying, he asked me if I wanted to join them. I didn’t understand how my presence could help him better the relationship to his daughter but I accepted nontheless – who knew, maybe that was the reason I was there. He showed me his latest blueprint, and I instantly saw that he was missing a white bridge to go around the house. He added it and than told me to go inside.

I entered the house through the storeroom next to the garage. His daughter was already inside and without greeting each other we sat down on the windowsill and started painting the window frames blue. It never occured to me that it was senseless to paint a window frame that was going to be destroyed when the house would be torn down, her calmness to paint the frames was contagious and so we both continued as if it were the most normal thing in the world to render something beautiful that was about to be broken.

She smiled as the sun went down and we could see a golden shimmer clinging to the hills. Then she looked down to the floor and I saw tears in her eyes.

Déi lescht Minuten

De Federico zidd de Bilan vun den Examen a fänkt mat engem Saatz un, dee mech och direkt nees u meng Première erennert: “Et sinn nach 3 Minutten, genéisst se!” Während et sech bei deem Saatz em déi dräi lescht Minuten vum Examen handelt, erennert de Satz mech un meng lescht puer Minuten vun der normaler Schoulstonn. Ech wees net méi genau wéivill Minuten et deemols waren firum Schluss, mee iergendwann kuerz firun Enn ass mer kloër gin, dass de Lycée elo eriwwer ass. Do waren zwar nach d’Examen, mee déi hate net wierklech vill mat normalem Lycéesliewen ze din. Kuerz: déi lescht Minuten hu sech mat sämtlechen Detailer a meng Erennerung agebrannt, wéi net vill aner Momenter a mengem Liewen.

De Federico stellt sech dann d’Fro, wéi et dann elo weidergeet mat de Kolleegen. Grond genuch fir mech, eng Kéier selwer Bilan ze maachen, an vläit den aktuellen Primaner ennert de Blogger eng méiglech Zukunft ze weisen. Wéi war dat eigentlech mat de Klassekomeroden, no der Diplomiwwereeschung an der Promnight – sin se a mengem Liewen bliwwen oder net?

Déi Fro ass eigentlech séier beenwert: nee, si si net all bliwwen. Dee gréissten Deel ass relativ séier aus mengem Liewen verschwonnen. Well soen: no der Diplomiwwereeschung hun ech ee groussen Deel vun hinnen net méi eremgesin, een Deel war emol net op der Promnight (well de selwechten Owend Apocalyptica an der KuFa gespillt huet). An op der Promnight hun ech mech eigentlech nemmen mat de beschte Kolleegen opgehaalen, a souwisou scho net méi vill vun deenen anere matkritt. Sou ass dat och bliwwen: déi bescht Frënn si bliwwen, d’Klassekomeroden an Kolleegen aus anere Klassen sin entweder ganz aus mengem Liewen verschwonnen oder de Kontakt ass beschtefalls nach sporadesch – et begéint een sech heiansdo zoufälleg emol an engem Café, et schreiwt een sech alt am MSN fir nozefroen wéi et grad sou geet, et kuckt een op Facebook oder der belleger däitscher Kopie dovunner d’Fotoen vu Partyen wou déi aal Kolleegen elo feieren. Heiansdo kritt een och just duerch gemeinsam Frenn mat, wat bei fréiere Kolleegen grad lass ass. Oder et gesäit een et um RTL, liest et am Wort oder am Télécran (jo, ass mer alles geschidd). Iergendwéi geet dat och schon duer, just ze wessen wat déi aal Kolleegen grad stiichten, wéivill hätt een dann och nach mateneen ze schwätzen, et kann ee net méi iwwert déi selwecht Proffen meckeren, an erliewten Szenen op der Uni sin eigentlech nemme witzeg, wann ee se selwer materliewt huet.

Vläit dat Komëschst ass, dass deelweis Leit déi ee fir wichteg gehaalen huet, och verschwannen. T’vermesst een se zwar heiansdo, mee eigentlech gett een och zimlech gudd ouni se am Alldag eenz. Hier Plaaz gouf relativ séier vu neie Kolleegen ageholl. Ass dat traureg? Iergendwéi schon, mee t’ass awer och normal. Näischt ass fir emmer, Leit veränneren sech an et passt ee vläit net méi sou gudd beieneen, wéi dat eemol war. D’Intressien waren am Endeffekt vläit vill méi op d’Schoul an déi do gemeinsam gesammelt Erfahrungen beschränkt wéi een dat gemengt hätt. A Leit mat deenen een sech vläit manner opgehalen huet, vermesst een dann op eemol trotzdeem. Well se einfach zum Gesamtbild dozou gehéiert hun, an et ass jo eigentlech déi ganz Atmosphär déi ee vermesst. Eng Klass am traditionelle Senn gett et nom Lycée fir déi mannsten nach.

“Mir verléiren ni de Kontakt” ass ee grousse Saatz, wann een emol net wees, wat een an de nächste Méint erwaard. Trotzdeem ass et wuel ee vun de Standardsätz no der Première, an en ass wahrscheinlech an de meeschte Fäll souguer ganz éierlech gemengt. Et wees een et einfach nach net besser. An iergendwéi ass d’Hoffnung de Kontakt tatsächlech ni ze verléiren dach och eppes Schéines.

Déi Leit vun deenen ech wierklech behapte kann, dass se nach eng Roll a mengem Liewen spillen, déi mat mer op Première (domat mengen ech mäi Joërgaang, vu dass ech an insgesamt dräi Lycéen war, a net nemmen d’Primaner aus dem Schuman) waren, kann ech wuel op mengen Hänn ofzielen. Dat ass awer net schlëmm, well eigentlech sin déi Leit no der Première deelweis souguer nach méi wichteg gin.

“Et gett ni besser”, wéi mäin Däitschproff a Régent Dr. Reis op Première sot, “et gett just anescht.” A genau sou ass et och: d’Liewe bleiwt d’Liewe mat all sengen Héischten an Déiwten, just d’Kulissen ronderem een ännere sech. Et gin och op der Uni dreckeg Proffen, et gin och an de Virliesungen nerveg Bänknoperen, an d’Nervösitéit virun den Examen ass déi selwecht wéi bei de Prüfungen am Lycée. Vläit ass dat déi wichtegst Lektioun déi een als Primaner léiert: et bleiwt zwar emmer alles d’selwecht wat et sech méi ännert, mee et genéisst een déi eenzel spezifesch Momenter trotzdeem soulaang se unhalen. Méi kann ee net maachen, manner sollt ee net.

An an deem Senn wenschen ech all de Primaner ennert iech bonne Chance, dass et och geklappt huet mam Examen, an vill Freed an Erfolleg bei deem wat nom Lycée op iech waard. A verspriecht iech roueg, dass de Kontakt ni ofbrécht, well et gett wuel keng besser Basis fir de Kontakt tatsächlech oprecht z’erhaalen.