Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label women. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Winner - 2009 Ukraine's Got Talent - Incredible
This video shows the winner of 2009’s " Ukraine ’s Got Talent," Kseniya Simonova, 24, drawing a series of pictures on an illuminated sand table showing how ordinary people were affected by the German invasion during World War II. Her talent, which admittedly is a strange one, is mesmeric to watch.
The images, projected onto a large screen, moved many in the audience to tears and she won the top prize of about $75,000.
She begins by creating a scene showing a couple sitting holding hands on a bench
under a starry sky, but then warplanes appear and the happy scene is obliterated.
It is replaced by a woman’s face crying, but then a baby arrives and the woman smiles again. Once again war returns and Miss Simonova throws the sand into chaos from which a young woman’s face appears.
She quickly becomes an old widow, her face wrinkled and sad, before the image turns into a monument to an Unknown Soldier.
This outdoor scene becomes framed by a window as if the viewer is looking out on the monument from within a house.
In the final scene, a mother and child appear inside and a man standing outside, with his hands pressed against the glass, saying good-bye.
The Great Patriotic War, as it is called in Ukraine , resulted in one in four of the population being killed with eight to 11 million deaths out of a population of 42 million.
Kseniya Simonova says: The art, especially when the war is used as the subject matter, even brings some audience members to tears. And there’s surely no bigger compliment."
The images, projected onto a large screen, moved many in the audience to tears and she won the top prize of about $75,000.
She begins by creating a scene showing a couple sitting holding hands on a bench
under a starry sky, but then warplanes appear and the happy scene is obliterated.
It is replaced by a woman’s face crying, but then a baby arrives and the woman smiles again. Once again war returns and Miss Simonova throws the sand into chaos from which a young woman’s face appears.
She quickly becomes an old widow, her face wrinkled and sad, before the image turns into a monument to an Unknown Soldier.
This outdoor scene becomes framed by a window as if the viewer is looking out on the monument from within a house.
In the final scene, a mother and child appear inside and a man standing outside, with his hands pressed against the glass, saying good-bye.
The Great Patriotic War, as it is called in Ukraine , resulted in one in four of the population being killed with eight to 11 million deaths out of a population of 42 million.
Kseniya Simonova says: The art, especially when the war is used as the subject matter, even brings some audience members to tears. And there’s surely no bigger compliment."
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Three Bears - the true story!
A far more accurate account of the events of that fateful morning....
Baby bear goes downstairs, sits in his small chair at the table. He looks into his small bowl. It is empty.'Who's been eating my porridge?' he squeaks.
Daddy Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair.He looks into his big bowl and it is also empty. 'Who's been eating my porridge?!?' he Roars.
Mummy Bear puts her head through the serving hatch from the kitchen and yells, 'For God's sake, how many times do I have to go through this with you idiots?
It was Mummy Bear who got up first.
It was Mummy Bear who woke everyone in the house.
It was Mummy Bear who made the coffee.
It was Mummy Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything away.
It was Mummy Bear who swept the floor in the kitchen.
It was Mummy Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper and croissants.
It was Mummy Bear who set the damn table.
It was Mummy Bear who walked the bloody dog, cleaned the cat's litter tray, gave them their food, and refilled their water.
And now that you've decided to drag your sorry bear-asses downstairs and grace Mummy Bear with your grumpy presence, listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once....
'I HAVEN'T MADE THE F ....................... PORRIDGE YET!!!
Baby bear goes downstairs, sits in his small chair at the table. He looks into his small bowl. It is empty.'Who's been eating my porridge?' he squeaks.
Daddy Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair.He looks into his big bowl and it is also empty. 'Who's been eating my porridge?!?' he Roars.
Mummy Bear puts her head through the serving hatch from the kitchen and yells, 'For God's sake, how many times do I have to go through this with you idiots?
It was Mummy Bear who got up first.
It was Mummy Bear who woke everyone in the house.
It was Mummy Bear who made the coffee.
It was Mummy Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything away.
It was Mummy Bear who swept the floor in the kitchen.
It was Mummy Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper and croissants.
It was Mummy Bear who set the damn table.
It was Mummy Bear who walked the bloody dog, cleaned the cat's litter tray, gave them their food, and refilled their water.
And now that you've decided to drag your sorry bear-asses downstairs and grace Mummy Bear with your grumpy presence, listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once....
'I HAVEN'T MADE THE F ....................... PORRIDGE YET!!!
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Before I was a Mom ...
Before I was a Mom ,
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom ,
I had never been Puked on; Pooped on; Chewed on; Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom ,
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests,
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom ,
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.
Before I was a Mom ,
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment, or the satisfaction of being a Mom .
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom ,
I had never been Puked on; Pooped on; Chewed on; Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom ,
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests,
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom ,
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put her down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.
Before I was a Mom ,
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom,
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment, or the satisfaction of being a Mom .
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.
~ Anon.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Dust if you must ...
Remember ...
A layer of dust protects the Wood beneath it. A house becomes a home when you can write 'I love you' on the furniture.
I used to spend at least 8 hours every weekend making sure things were just perfect - 'in case someone came over.' Finally I realized one day that no-one came over; they were all out living life and having fun!
NOW, when people visit, I don't have to explain the 'condition' of my home.
They are more interested in hearing about the things I've been doing while I was away living life and having fun.
If you haven't figured this out yet, please heed this advice. Life is short. Enjoy it!
Dust if you must ... But wouldn't it be better to paint a picture or write a letter, Bake cookies or a cake and lick the spoon or plant a seed,
Ponder the difference between want and need?!
Dust if you must, but there's not much time . . . .
With beer to drink, rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
Music to hear and books to read, friends to cherish
And life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world's out there with the sun in your eyes,
The wind in your hair, a flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come around, again.
Dust if you must, But bear in mind, old age will come and it's not kind. . .
And when you go - and go you must - you, yourself will make more dust!
A layer of dust protects the Wood beneath it. A house becomes a home when you can write 'I love you' on the furniture.
I used to spend at least 8 hours every weekend making sure things were just perfect - 'in case someone came over.' Finally I realized one day that no-one came over; they were all out living life and having fun!
NOW, when people visit, I don't have to explain the 'condition' of my home.
They are more interested in hearing about the things I've been doing while I was away living life and having fun.
If you haven't figured this out yet, please heed this advice. Life is short. Enjoy it!
Dust if you must ... But wouldn't it be better to paint a picture or write a letter, Bake cookies or a cake and lick the spoon or plant a seed,
Ponder the difference between want and need?!
Dust if you must, but there's not much time . . . .
With beer to drink, rivers to swim and mountains to climb,
Music to hear and books to read, friends to cherish
And life to lead.
Dust if you must, but the world's out there with the sun in your eyes,
The wind in your hair, a flutter of snow, a shower of rain.
This day will not come around, again.
Dust if you must, But bear in mind, old age will come and it's not kind. . .
And when you go - and go you must - you, yourself will make more dust!
~ Anon
Monday, February 16, 2009
Just a Mom ... !
A woman, renewing her driver's licence, was asked by the woman at Registry to state her occupation. She hesitated, uncertain how to classify herself. 'What I mean is, ' explained the woman at the Registry. 'Do you have a job or are you just a ...?' 'Of course I have a job,' snapped the woman. 'I'm a Mum.' 'We don't list 'Mum' as an occupation. 'Housewife' covers it,' said the recorder emphatically.
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, 'Official Interrogator' or 'City Registrar.'
'What is your occupation?' she probed. What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out. 'I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations.'
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and Looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, In bold, black ink on the official questionnaire. 'Might I ask,' said the clerk with new interest, 'just what you do in your field?'
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, 'I have a continuing program of research (what mother doesn't), in the laboratory and in the field (normally I would have said indoors and out); I'm working for my Masters (first the Lord and then the whole family), and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities (any mother care to disagree?), and I often work 14 hours a day (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers And the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.' There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mum.'
I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high sounding title like, 'Official Interrogator' or 'City Registrar.'
'What is your occupation?' she probed. What made me say it? I do not know. The words simply popped out. 'I'm a Research Associate in the field of Child Development and Human Relations.'
The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in midair and Looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pronouncement was written, In bold, black ink on the official questionnaire. 'Might I ask,' said the clerk with new interest, 'just what you do in your field?'
Coolly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, 'I have a continuing program of research (what mother doesn't), in the laboratory and in the field (normally I would have said indoors and out); I'm working for my Masters (first the Lord and then the whole family), and already have four credits (all daughters). Of course, the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities (any mother care to disagree?), and I often work 14 hours a day (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers And the rewards are more of a satisfaction rather than just money.' There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.
As I drove into our driveway, buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants -- ages 13, 7, and 3. Upstairs I could hear our new experimental model, (a 6 month old baby) in the child development program, testing out a new vocal pattern.
I felt I had scored a beat on bureaucracy! And I had gone on the official records as someone more distinguished and indispensable to mankind than 'just another Mum.'
~ Anon.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
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