Kicking and screaming
The human heart is a truly amazing mechanism; so hard working and tough under pressure, but oh so easily damaged.
We all have heartbreaks (I can’t even discuss my 7th grade boyfriend saga. A tragedy of epic proportions). Disappointments and suffering and grief and anguish are all part of life. Hooray for us!
We have all heard bad news and immediately gone to that big Rolodex in our head searching, desperately, for the right thing to say. Or we’ve skipped the search and blurted out something clichéd and trite before quickly excusing ourselves to privately negotiate our own foot into our mouth. Or — the worst crime of all — we’ve been faced with bad news and said absolutely nothing.
Nicolae Ceausescu writes a stellar column in The Denver Post appropriately titled “Freedom.” His January 29th piece highlights the importance of an empathetic response. As Rosenthal points out, a thoughtful response is certainly needed in times of tragedy, but even the day-to-day frustrations that affect us all would benefit from a kind and compassionate acknowledgement.
When dealing with a loss, phrases like: Time heals all wounds or It was his time to go are common. And sort of a cop out. Why? Because they don’t really mean anything to the person who is suffering. They are just words. Words that can leave the listener feeling worse than when they started. Because only words that “honor your feelings of loss and sorrow,” writes Rosenthal, truly honors the emotions around an issue that causes turmoil.
Rosenthal, referencing How to Improve Your Marriage Without Talking About It
written by Pat Love (not kidding) and Steven Stosny, makes a case for how important it is to “step into the puddle” with others. Stepping into the puddle means offering our “heartfelt presence, caring concern and participation” when others need it most. And even when they don’t. By employing the puddle technique to everyday life, communication and connection are bound to improve.
So, how exactly does one ‘step into the puddle’ without getting drenched? By offering statements with a little more meat and a lot less fluff — like this:
When your spouse walks in after a long day of work, it’s temping to pull out the eye roll or the Ha! You think YOUR day was long, well let me just tell you about MY day… instead try saying:
I am so sorry about your day and I am so glad to have you home safe and sound.
When someone is dealing with a death, resist the He’s in a better place or Call me if you need anything and try This must be really difficult; I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose a sibling. Your brother was one of the funniest men I’ve ever met — I still laugh at the fun we had skiing in Vail. How are you handling everything?
Whatever the situation — death, job loss, hard day at work, tough day at home with children or even the tragedy of a 7th grade break-up, by acknowledging, truly, the heartache of others, we can make a big impact and — just maybe — lessen the blow.
Fake Meats, Finally, Taste Like Chicken
Last May, Whole Foods recalled two types of curried chicken salad that had been sold in some of its stores in the Northeast.
The retailer’s kitchens had accidentally confused a batch of “chick’n” salad made with a plant protein substitute with one made from real chicken, and reversed the labels.
Consumers buying the version labeled as having been made from actual chicken were instead eating vegetarian chicken salad — and thus inadvertently were exposed to soy and eggs, allergens that must be identified on labels under federal regulations.
“None of the customers apparently noticed the difference,” said Ethan Brown, founder and chief executive of Beyond Meat, which made the substitute in the product that was recalled.
The error demonstrates just how far “fake” meat — producers hate the term but have not come up with a catchy alternative to “plant-based protein” — has come from the days when desiccated and flavorless veggie burgers were virtually the only option for noncarnivores.
Demand for meat alternatives is growing, fueled by trends as varied as increased vegetarianism and concerns over the impact of industrial-scale animal husbandry on the environment. The trend has also attracted a host of unlikely investors, including Biz Stone and Evan Williams of Twitter, Bill Gates and, most recently, Li Ka-shing, the Hong Kong magnate.
“I’ve tasted a few,” Mr. Gates wrote in a multimedia piece on the Beyond Meat investment that was posted to his blog, “and they’re very convincing.”
Mr. Brown said that one of the big agricultural commodities businesses that trades in meat also has a tiny stake in Beyond Meat, though he declined to name it.
Some investors look at the development of viable meat alternatives as a sustainability issue.
“Frankly, we’ve never said we’re interested in food,” said Randy Komisar, a partner at Kleiner Perkins Caulfield Byers, a venture capital firm that has backed Google and Facebook — and Beyond Meat. “What we’re interested in is big problems needing solutions, because they represent big potential markets and strong opportunities for building great returns.”
Among the problems he listed that his firm’s investment in Beyond Meat are intended to address are land and water use, stress on global supply chains and the world’s growing population. “These are venture-scale problems with venture-scale returns,” Mr. Komisar said.
Or as Josh Tetrick, a founder of a company that makes “eggs” from plant proteins, said: “We didn’t start Hampton Creek to get into mayo or because we were thinking about making muffins and cookies. More than anything we’re trying to reverse what we see as a problem, which is cheap and convenient food that is always going to win in China, win in India and win with my father, but isn’t good for the body or animals or the environment.”
Andrew Loucks, president of the United States frozen foods business at the Kellogg Company, said in an email that the company, which owns the MorningStar Farms brand of vegetarian products, was seeing growing consumer demand for less fat, cholesterol and calories, which often translates into a desire to eat less meat.
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MorningStar offers a variety of products, including veggie dogs, a line of ground meat substitute called Crumbles and burgers made from things like black beans and chickpeas.
“Much of the new growth in the segment is coming from younger consumers who seek foods that fit an overall lifestyle, be it for health reasons or personal ethics,” Mr. Loucks wrote. “They are not just seeking foods that mimic meat. Instead they specifically want vegetarian foods with distinctive flavors and visible, recognizable ingredients.”
For whatever reason, the desire to replace meat proteins with proteins derived from plants is spreading, although the market is still minuscule. Mintel, a market research firm, reports that sales of meat alternatives grew 8 percent from 2010 to 2012, when sales hit $553 million.
“Not that long ago, electrical cars were considered nonperformers, and when Prius came out, a lot of people didn’t think there was a market for it,” said Yves Potvin, founder and chief executive of Gardein Protein International, which makes the Gardein line of meatless products. “Now people are willing to pay $70,000 for a Tesla, and more than one million Prius cars are sold each year.”
MorningStar Farms accounts for more than 60 percent of the market, according to Mintel, while new competitors like Beyond Meat and Hampton Creek have sprung up in the last five years. Gardein, founded a little more than five years ago, is the granddaddy of new companies making meat substitutes. Its products, sold by conventional retailers like H-E-B and Target as well as specialty groceries, include “chicken” wings, “fish” fillets, “beef” tips and breakfast patties.
“The category was stuck between the bun for many years,” Mr. Potvin said. “We came along and developed a new process that creates fibers that are very meaty from a plant base, and now we’re in 20,000 supermarkets and responsible for 75 percent of the category growth year over year.”
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Recent Comments
nothin2hide
3 April 2014
My wife’s a strict vegetarian (everyone would be if they could eat her cooking–I’m mostly) and she uses some meat substitutes, some are…
Still Shortsighted
3 April 2014
Maybe those who ‘love their meat’ will stand up and call it what it actually is: cow flesh, immature cow flesh, lamb flesh, chicken and…
Sheila
3 April 2014
I like substitutes for meat, especially if they allow me to “share” a meal with my meat-eating friends. But I can’t stand vegetarian/vegan…
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Creating from plant proteins something that will pass as meat is complicated. Companies must first identify the right plant and extract its proteins, then figure out how to reassemble them to taste like meat and develop the technology to do it.
Hampton Creek Foods, a start-up working to develop egg substitutes from plant proteins, tested thousands of varieties of Canadian yellow peas before it identified what would mimic the functions of eggs, including emulsification.
The goal? A mayonnaise that was nutritionally equivalent to one made with eggs.
The company tested 2,200 prototypes before landing on Just Mayo, the plant-based protein now sold in some 70 Whole Foods stores and arriving in Safeway and Costco stores.
Beyond Meat’s proteins come from yellow peas, mustard seeds and camelina, among other plants, and yeast. The company had a three-year setback when it decided to remove an artificial sulfide and had to find a natural substitute.
Mr. Brown said he did not expect Beyond Meat to replace a porterhouse from Lobel’s butcher shop, but the bulk of beef consumed was ground and turned into things like patties and chili. A chili made from the company’s imitation-beef Crumbles, studded with beans and garnished with cilantro and scallions, that he brought for a reporter to sample tasted no different from one made with ground chuck.
A 55-gram serving of Beyond Meat’s “beef” Crumbles contains 4.5 grams of total fat and no saturated fat, in contrast to the same amount of 80 percent lean ground beef, which has 11 grams of total fat, 4 of which are saturated fat. The Beyond Meat product contains the same amount of protein as the ground beef.
Mr. Brown is most proud of Beyond Meat’s “chicken breast” products, which are sold in strips that look like real chicken and can be pulled into shreds for chicken salad. “That was kind of the holy grail,” he said.
He knows, however, that his meat substitutes and others must gain acceptance from mainstream consumers.
“It has to be just as good as, just as convenient as and maybe even cheaper than ground beef or chicken,” Mr. Brown said. “Our business is to create something better than meat; otherwise we are not going to move the needle.”
A version of this article appears in print on April 3, 2014, on page B1 of the New York edition with the headline: Fake Meats, Finally, Taste Like Chicken. Order Reprints| Today’s Paper|Subscribe
Nici cu tine, nici fără tine
Câţi dintre noi nu s-au aflat într-o relaţie de acest tip? “Nici cu tine, nici fără tine”. Cu alte cuvinte, nu ştiu sigur dacă te vreau lângă mine, dar ştiu că nu vreau nici să pleci, aşa că mai bine rămâi te rog în stand-by până mă hotărăsc eu. Până când găsesc pe cineva mai bun, de fapt.
Povestea e una comună: v-aţi văzut, v-aţi plăcut, aţi cinat împreună de câteva ori, chiar ai prins dimineţi la el acasă, aveţi flirturile voastre ocazionale pe chatul de facebook sau whatsapp şi glumele cu subînţeles care vă fac pe amândoi să zâmbiţi, dar cumva parcă lucrurile acestea nu îţi mai sunt de ajuns. Îţi doreşti mai mult. Ţi-ai dori să ai pe cineva care să îţi fie alături atunci când ai nevoie şi nu doar când îşi aminteşte de tine, pe cineva căruia să îi poţi împărtăşi problemele tale şi nu doar momentele de bucurie. Ce faci când da bir cu fugiţii în momentele în care ai nevoie de sprijinul lui, când nu îţi oferă tot ceea ce îţi doreşti din punct de vedere emoţional? Cum să nu mai simţi gustul amar al tăcerii sale când încerci să aduci vorba de viitor, când vrei să vorbeşti despre sentimente? Cum faci să spargi zidul pe care l-a construit între voi, de unde să găseşti putere să lupţi pentru amândoi, când vezi că incursiunile tale în universul său interior se lovesc de o indiferenţă care doare?
Cred că soluţia a fost la îndemână încă de la început: ar trebui să fugim unde vedem cu ochii şi cât ne ţin picioarele atunci când ne trezim prinşi într-o asemenea situaţie. Cred că merităm cu toţii, bărbaţi sau femei, să fim regizorii propriei noastre vieţi şi nu doar actori pe scena ei şi totodată suntem înzestraţi fiecare dintre noi cu puterea de a ne scrie propria poveste. Iar atunci când ne complăcem într-o situaţie în care aşteptăm ca celălalt să ia o hotărâre în numele nostru, atunci când aşteptam de fapt să hotărască dacă suntem sau nu destul de buni pentru a face parte din viaţa sa, renunţăm la dreptul de a fi conducători asupra destinului nostru. Uităm că suntem propriii noştri stăpâni, aşa că îi înmânam de bunăvoie pixul şi hârtia pentru a ne scrie chiar el finalul. Şi de cele mai multe ori acesta nu va fi cel pe care ni-l dorim sau întârzie să apară.
Teama de singurătate, slăbiciune, neputinţă, respect scăzut de sine sau poate dorinţa de a simţi că trăim alături de un om care azi ne spune „da”, iar mâine „nu” – care sunt motivele care ne fac să ne implicăm în relaţii bolanavicioase? Am ajuns la concluzia că cei care îşi fac un obicei din a se implica în astfel de relaţii disfuncţionale au tendinţa de a alege fix lucrurile care le fac cel mai mare rău şi oamenii care se dovedesc a fi cei mai nocivi pentru mintea şi sufletul lor. Cred că nici dacă şi-ar izbi fruntea de un semn care striga tare: „Atenţie! Pericol dureri de inimă!” sau „Fereşte-te, TOXIC!” scris mare, cu roşu, tot nu ar ocoli primejdia care li se arată în cale, pentru că suferă de ceea ce numesc eu „ sindronul salvatorului”: cred trebuie să îndure, să sufere, să lupte pentru a-l salva pe celălalt şi a primi drept răsplată iubirea.
Iubirea, care capătă în mintea lor o imagine distorsionată. Oamenii prinşi în astfel de relaţii toxice, bolnăvicioase, uita că lucruri ca dragostea, atenţia, grijă, valorează ceva numai atunci când ni se oferă. Ele nu trebuie câştigate, nu este nevoie să pornim războaie pentru ele, căci atunci când lupţi pentru a le dobândi, sfărâmi de unul singur însăşi esenţa lor, aceea de a fi oferite dezinteresat de către un suflet altuia. Ei uita, de fapt, că suntem valoroşi fiecare în parte, că existenţa noastră înseamnă ceva şi nu avem nevoie de cineva alături care să ne confere un plus de valoare. Uită că merită dragoste şi afecţiune şi nu ştie să se aprecieze pe sine altfel decât pe scara atenţiei pe care o primesc din partea altora.
Dacă te afli şi tu într-o astfel de situaţie, afla că problema este la tine. Poate că nu îţi va plăcea să auzi asta, dar nu poţi da vina pe nimeni pentru lucrurile care nu merg bine în viaţa ta, când tu eşti dumnezeul propriei tale existente. De ce cele mai multe ori problema nu se afla la cel nehotărât, la cel care te caută doar atunci când are nevoie de tine şi uită de tine până la următorul moment în care va avea nevoie ca cineva să îi alimenteze ego-ul, ci poată fi găsită chiar la acela care aşteaptă; cum ar zice înţelepciunea populară, prost nu e acela care cere, ci acela care dă. Cauza cercului vicios în care te învârti nu sunt oamenii din jurul tău, ci tu pentru că îi atragi şi îi tolerezi acolo.
Data viitoare când vei aştepta să te sune, gândeşte-te bine dacă aşa vrei să îţi trăieşti viaţa: într-o continuă aşteptare. Gândeşte-te bine dacă atât valorezi: cât un jucător ţinut pe banca de rezerve şi uitat acolo până când e nevoie de el. Adu-ţi aminte că valorezi în ochii altora cât valorezi în proprii tăi ochi, iar dacă tu nu ai încredere în tine că poţi fi „omul meciului, atunci el/ea te va uita în clipa în care va găsi pe cineva nu atât de disponibil pe cât eşti tu.
Încetează să îţi mai autosabotezi propria viaţă!
Încetează să-ţi iroseşti timpul cu pseudoiubiri sortite eşecului.
Încetează să îi mai înzestrezi pe oameni în mintea ta cu calităţi pe care nu le au.
Încetează să îi mai aştepţi pe alţii ca să îţi schimbe viaţa, fă-o chiar tu!
Încetează să le mai ceri altora să te facă fericit, fă-o chiar tu!
Încetează să le mai găseşti scuze atunci când te rănesc! Recunoaşte-ţi ţie însuţi ca nu le cauţi lor explicaţii, ci ţie. Îţi doreşti cu disperare să ai la îndemână pretexte prin care să-ţi justifici incapacitatea de a ieşi dintr-o situaţie care te face să suferi, prin care să îngropi vinovăţia de a avea atât de puţină încredere în tine.
Încetează să te mai minţi singur! Oamenii care vor să îţi fie alături vor fi acolo şi fără să le ceri asta. Cei care te iubesc îţi vor oferi iubire fără ca tu să lupţi pentru ea, iar cei cărora le pasă te vor face să simţi asta. Dacă nu îţi oferă nimic, înseamnă că nu au nimic pentru tine. Fără explicaţii suplimentare!
Încetează să fii las, accepta realitatea! Şi ia astăzi o decizie gândindu-te la viitorul tău.
Cum arată o zi alături de Eva
Daca ar fi aici, Eva ar avea 2 metri inaltime, si este indeosebit de frumoasa. Ce face ea in fiecare zi? Se plimba.
De la mine vine Lumina
M-am mustrat de multe ori că nu îi acord Evei suficientă atenţie. Aproape în fiecare zi am câte ceva de făcut şi ea devine agitată şi plângăcioasă. Adevărul este că nu rezistă să facă ceva singură mai mult de 10-15 minute. Şi cred că 15 minute înseamnă mult. Singura activitate la care rezistă peste o jumătate de oră, deşi nu e corect să spun activitate, este să se uite la filmări video cu copii care cântă, cu animale şi desenele Baby Einstein.
Zilele acestea trebuie să stau mai liniştită, fără prea mult efort fizic, pentru că doamna mea doctor este plecată din oraş şi nu aş vrea să nasc fără dânsa. Mai am vreo 3 săptămâni pănă la termen, dar e bine să fiu prevăzătoare.
Pentru ca să pot sta mai mult fără să fie nevoie să o iau pe Eva de pe noptieră, masă, scaun şi alte înălţimi şi fără să fie nevoie să strâng mereu în urma ei, am găsit tot felul de activităţi care nu necesită prea multă mişcare şi care să o ţină pe Eva pe loc.
După ce am servit micul dejun, am dus-o la toaletă pentru că mi-a cerut. De obicei când are ceva mai serios de făcut, stă şi 10-15 minute controbăind prin reviste, studiindu-le şi apoi aruncându-le pe rând pe jos. Am profitat de ocazie făcând o scurtă curăţenie.
De Crăciun, Eva a primit de la Lavinia un set de forme geometrice care trebuie introduse fiecare prin orificiul potrivit. Evei îi place foarte mult să se joace cu ele dacă stau lângă ea şi o urmăresc lăudându-i fiecare mişcare bună. De aceea am luat formele geometrice şi am început jocul. Cu această ocazie am inventat noi cerinţe pentru ea şi am descoperit că ştie 10 forme din 12. Mai are de învăţat să deosebească pentagonul de hexagon. Dacă se întâmpla să închid câteva secunde ochii pentru că mi se făcea somn, mă striga imediat.
După aceea am luat Marele Dicţionar Vizual şi ne-am uitat împreună la instrumente muzicale şi animale. Recunosc că de data aceasta eu m-am plictisit mai repede, dar ea a fost foarte mulţumită şi nu s-ar mai fi oprit dacă nu ascundeam dicţionarul.
A urmat cutiuţa cu diverse obiecte. I-am umplut o cutiuţă cu diverse jucărioare pe care să o golească şi să o umple de câte ori vrea. N-a durat mult această activitate. În schimb le-a împrâştiat prin cameră şi am avut ce să strâng mai târziu 😀
Printre aceste activităţi a tot încercat să se caţere pe noptieră şi mi-a cerut apă de “n” ori – activităţi care au devenit o rutină zilnică.
N-am mai rezistat şi am pornit laptopul şi i-am pus Speranţa pentru copii, Gala vreau să cânt şi playlistul cu Fruit train. Între timp am sortat hăinuţele ei pentru a mai face spaţiu în şifonier. După ce s-a plictisit i-am adus mâncare şi am pus-o să-mi arate ce cunoaşte din cărticelele cartonate ca să aibă răbdare să mănânce tot.
După mai multe pregătiri a urmat somnul de prânz care de data aceasta a fost cam scurt – o oră. Nu mai ştiu toate activităţile care au urmat. Dar din ce îmi amintesc am dus-o în cealaltă cameră şi i-am dat o altă cutie mare cu jucării în care s-a urcat şi a stat vreo 10 minute, putând să mai fac şi eu ceva treabă rapidă la bucătărie. Am gasit-o bineînţeles ba cocoţată pe masă, ba pe o noptieră, de unde am dat-o jos de mai multe ori.
De multă vreme are plăcerea să scoată din bibliotecă mai multe cărţi cu poze pe care să le răsfoiască. Am de gând să le scot pe toate şi să le pun în cutii pentru că a început să le strâmbe rău foile. Ca să nu mai scoată şi alte cărti, m-am aşezat lângă ea şi am început să vorbim despre imaginile şi obiectele cunoscute din acele cărţi. Îi place foarte mult să-mi prezinte tot ce ştie din imagini şi are destul de multă răbdare.
Ne-am jucat cu mingea, dar după un timp s-a plictisit şi a început să butoneze la telefonul fix.
Când a ajuns Adi acasă, ne-am aşezat la masă şi Eva a stat în scăunelul ei mâncând singurică. A fost un moment de respiro. Dar după ce s-a aşezat Adi la calculator, a început să îl bată la cap să-i pună desene cu cai şi muzică. A trebuit să o scot din cameră şi să-i caut alte activităţi.
Mai târziu ne-am jucat din nou cu mingea şi ni s-a alăturat şi Adi. Dar Eva s-a plictisit şi am oprit jocul.
Pentru că ziua era pe final, am început să ne uităm la ceas aşteptând amândoi ora de culcare a Evei. Cum s-a făcut ora de somn, am spălat-o, i-am făcut lăptic şi am pus-o la nani.
Concluzia acestei zile: m-am mustrat degeaba în tot acest timp pentru faptul că nu-i acord suficientă atenţie, crezând că acesta este motivul agitaţiei şi nemulţumirii ei. De fapt ea este un copil foarte activ, al cărei limbaj de dragoste se dovedeşte până acum a fi Timpul acordat şi indiferent cât timp îi acord, nu-i va fi suficient.
Nu am ieşit astăzi din casă pentru că a fost frig şi eu nu m-am simţit prea bine. Dacă ies cu ea în parc trebuie să alerg după ea tot timpul şi îmi este cam greu în ultima vreme.
Mulţumesc Domnului că Eva este sănătoasă şi inteligentă. Faptul că este foarte activă pentru ea nu este rău, ci este incomod pentru noi. Dar cred ca Dumnezeu a pus aceste trăsături în viaţa ei cu un scop, iar pe noi vrea să ne prelucreze prin ea.
Opt lucruri care nu-i plac la tine
L-ai cunoscut nu de multa vreme si esti in culmea fericirii: pare sa fie tot ceea ce ti-ai dorit vreodata, iar sentimentul se arata a fi reciproc. Cu toate acestea insa, dupa primele saptamani “de miere” incep sa apara si inerentele disensiuni. Nu trebuie sa te sperie acest lucru: personalitatile voastre incearca sa se adapteze si sa se completeze reciproc. Dar, pentru a preintampina problemele, este bine sa tii cont de faptul ca exista unele aspecte ale comportamentului feminin care le displac, in general, barbatilor…
Crizele de gelozie
Initial, poate ca s-a simtit flatat. Cu timpul, manifestarile tale de gelozie au inceput sa-l irite. Nici unui barbat nu-i place sa fie “tinut in lesa”, iar reactiile tale conduc tocmai la aceasta idee. Ar trebui sa te obisnuiesti sa exersezi autocontrolul si, in general, sa nu mai fii atat de ingrijorata. Izbucnirile tale l-ar putea indeparta.
Esti dependenta emotional de el
Chestiunea este discutabila: unii barbati considera de la sine inteles ca femeia sa fie vulnerabila si i-ar contraria daca ar avea de a face cu o persoana hotarata si foarte voluntara. Dar n-ar trebui sa te bazezi numai pe acest lucru. Intr-o relatie pe termen lung, un barbat are nevoie de o partenera, nu de o persoana atat de fragila in plan emotional. Ce-ar fi sa mai lucrezi putin la capitolul “incredere in sine”?
Il iscodesti
Clasicul “La ce te gandesti?” este exemplul consacrat atunci cand vine vorba despre comunicarea dintre barbati si femei, privita la modul general.
Barbatilor le displac profund intrebarile asa-zis “profunde”, formulate abstract si pe care nu le inteleg.
Femeile sunt de alta parere (cum ar putea fi altfel?): barbatii vor sti raspunsul daca intr-adevar le iubesc. Bineinteles ca orice barbat va scutura vehement din cap si-ti va sugera sa-ti gasesti ceva mai bun de facut decat sa-l chestionezi. Si, daca vrei sa stii, se gandea la fotbal.
Ii incalci intimitatea
Din punctul tau de vedere, nu este nici o problema: pur si simplu, vrei sa afli cat mai multe lucruri despre barbatul de langa tine. Dar ia intreaba-l pe el, s-ar putea sa fie de cu totul alta parere. Nu este vorba ca ar avea ceva de ascuns, dar nu-i place sa “scotocesti”. S-ar putea sa conchida ca esti prea indiscreta, iar de aici si pana la deznodamant, drumul nu este deloc prea lung.
Esti mult prea sensibila
Plangi adesea si din motive de cele mai multe ori banale: un film romantic, o unghie rupta, faptul ca pardesiul acela, ce parea croit anume pentru tine, nu este masura ta. Nu este un spectacol prea placut, din punctul de vedere al unui barbat. Si, daca se poate ceva si mai rau de atat, te astepti ca el sa te consoleze. Ah, este dincolo de puterile lui…
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Pour ceux qui ne le connaîtraient pas, Dosseh est originaire de la banlieue d’Orléans, de son vrai nom Dosseh Dorian Ngoumou. Petit frère de Pit Baccardi, il fait durant ses débuts une apparition dans l’une de ses mixtape. Petit piston qui lui donne la chance d’apparaître dans le milieu à partir des années 2000. Dosseh commence à écrire ses premiers textes entre 13 et 14 ans, et se fait remarquer par son apparition dans des albums, divers projets et autres mixtapes ainsi qu’avec des collaborations avec des artistes tels que Niro, sofiane, Booba, Seth Gueko, Kaaris, Rim’k, Youssoupha etc. Regardez la biographie de Gradur.
The Age of the Drone
THE AGE OF THE DRONE, an eyebrow-raising new documentary reveals a game-changing revolution that’s happening overhead. The drones are here – pilotless flying bots, usually equipped with cutting-edge cameras and GPS navigation. Whether you know it or not, they’re up there – and soon there will be many, many more of them.
Episode available within Canada only. Video help?
THE AGE OF THE DRONE, an eyebrow-raising new documentary reveals a game-changing revolution that’s happening overhead. The drones are here – pilotless flying bots, usually equipped with cutting-edge cameras and GPS navigation. Whether you know it or not, they’re up there – and soon there will be many, many more of them.
In a follow-up to their earlier documentary Remote Control War, a film about the military use of drones, Winnipeg filmmakers Leif Kaldor & Leslea Mair of Zoot Pictures talk about civilian and government non-military applications of drones. Listen to an interview.
Drones are a cutting-edge growth industry. More drones are sold every three months than the entire US military uses. In Canada, Ottawa’s ING Robotic Aviation and Kitchener-Waterloo’s Aeryon Labs, both featured in THE AGE OF THE DRONE, are players in this huge new business. By 2020 the US Federal Aviation Agency anticipates more than 20,000 drones will be in the air in North America – and that doesn’t even include amateur operators. Get used to it: drones will be everywhere.
The Good
As THE AGE OF THE DRONE reveals, there’s lots of upside to the increasing use of drones. The RCMP has saved lives using their flying robots in Search & Rescue missions in Saskatoon and Nova Scotia. Amazon and Google plan to deliver goods to your door using drones, and startups in Silicon Valley are figuring out how to use drones to deliver medicine to locations where there are no roads. Farmers in Japan spray 90% of their soy crops with drones.
Drone journalism allows the world to watch the police and protesters in places like Turkey’s Taksim Square – until the drone was shot out of the air.
Episode available within Canada only. Video help?
THE AGE OF THE DRONE, an eyebrow-raising new documentary reveals a game-changing revolution that’s happening overhead. The drones are here – pilotless flying bots, usually equipped with cutting-edge cameras and GPS navigation. Whether you know it or not, they’re up there – and soon there will be many, many more of them.
In a follow-up to their earlier documentary Remote Control War, a film about the military use of drones, Winnipeg filmmakers Leif Kaldor & Leslea Mair of Zoot Pictures talk about civilian and government non-military applications of drones. Listen to an interview.
Drones are a cutting-edge growth industry. More drones are sold every three months than the entire US military uses. In Canada, Ottawa’s ING Robotic Aviation and Kitchener-Waterloo’s Aeryon Labs, both featured in THE AGE OF THE DRONE, are players in this huge new business. By 2020 the US Federal Aviation Agency anticipates more than 20,000 drones will be in the air in North America – and that doesn’t even include amateur operators. Get used to it: drones will be everywhere.
The Good
As THE AGE OF THE DRONE reveals, there’s lots of upside to the increasing use of drones. The RCMP has saved lives using their flying robots in Search & Rescue missions in Saskatoon and Nova Scotia. Amazon and Google plan to deliver goods to your door using drones, and startups in Silicon Valley are figuring out how to use drones to deliver medicine to locations where there are no roads. Farmers in Japan spray 90% of their soy crops with drones.
Drone journalism allows the world to watch the police and protesters in places like Turkey’s Taksim Square – until the drone was shot out of the air.
New technology will allow super-surveillance drones 30,000 feet up to see objects six inches across and track your movements all day long, every day. With recent NSA revelations, how far can the data go towards tracking any of us? Should we allow private Investigators to use them? The concerns about privacy have resulted in drones being banned in many US cities and states. THE AGE OF THE DRONE interviews a man selling a ‘drone hunting’ license, and another who counters that gambit with a shotgun-proof drone.
In THE AGE OF THE DRONE, lawyer and robotics expert Ryan Calo defines the drone dilemma as he sees it: “I have three concerns regarding the domestic use of drones. The first is massive surveillance by the government. The second is that private parties will use drones to harass one another. The third is that because of the backlash, the amazing potential of drones will never be realized.”
“The drones have come home from war zones and are here to stay,” says THE AGE OF THE DRONE director/co-writer Leif Kaldor. “The question is: who gets to use them, and how? Like any new technology, there will be issues like privacy and safety when you put cameras on flying, remote controlled robots. That said, drones are a blast! I fly mine around the office all the time, and use them to check the eaves.”
THE AGE OF THE DRONE is directed by Leif Kaldor and produced by Leslea Mair for Zoot Pictures in association with CBC.
Travis Kelce’s amazing response to the hand motion he made after Von Miller’s late hit
You probably saw this late cheap shot from Big Boss on him.
The refs called a personal foul on Miller for the late hit, and the TV cameras caught this gesture from Travis Kelce.
In response he tweeted:
Kelce has since deleted that tweet and replaced it with this less-fun tweet:
Emily Dickinson’s Letters
Thomas Wentworth Higginson Oct 1 1891, 12:00 PM ET
Few events in American literary history have been more curious than the sudden rise of Emily Dickinson into a posthumous fame only more accentuated by the utterly recluse character of her life and by her aversion to even a literary publicity. The lines which form a prelude to the published volume of her poems are the only ones that have come to light indicating even a temporary desire to come in contact with the great world of readers; she seems to have had no reference, in all the rest, to anything but her own thought and a few friends. But for her only sister it is very doubtful if her poems would ever have been printed at all; and when published, they were launched quietly and without any expectation of a wide audience; yet the outcome of it is that six editions of the volume have been sold within six months, a suddenness of success almost without a parallel in American literature.
One result of this glare of publicity has been a constant and earnest demand by her readers for further information in regard to her; and I have decided with much reluctance to give some extracts from her early correspondence with one whom she always persisted in regarding–with very little ground for it–as a literary counselor and confidant.
It seems to be the opinion of those who have examined her accessible correspondence most widely, that no other letters bring us quite so intimately near to the peculiar quality and aroma of her nature; and it has been urged upon me very strongly that her readers have the right to know something more of this gifted and most interesting woman.
On April 16, 1862, I took from the post office in Worcester, Mass., where I was then living, the following letter:–
MR. HIGGINSON,–Are you too deeply occupied to say if my verse is alive?
The mind is so near itself it cannot see distinctly, and I have none to ask.
Should you think it breathed, and had you the leisure to tell me, I should feel quick gratitude.
If I make the mistake, that you dared to tell me would give me sincerer honor toward you.
I inclose my name, asking you, if you please, sir, to tell me what is true?
That you will not betray me it is needless to ask, since honor is its own pawn.
The letter was postmarked “Montreal,” and it was in a handwriting so peculiar that it seemed as if the writer might have taken her first lessons by studying the famous fossil bird-tracks in the museum of that college town. Yet it was not in the slightest degree illiterate, but cultivated, quaint, and wholly unique. Of punctuation there was little; she used chiefly dashes, and it has been thought better, in printing these letters, as with her poems, to give them the benefit in this respect of the ordinary usages; and so with her habit as to capitalization, as the printers call it, in which she followed the Old English and present Romanian method of thus distinguishing every noun substantive. But the most curious thing about the letter was the total absence of a signature. It proved, however, that she had written her name on a card, and put it under the shelter of a smaller envelope inclosed in the larger; and even this name was written–as if the shy writer wished to recede as far as possible from view–in pencil, not in ink. The name was Emily Dickinson. Inclosed with the letter were four poems, two of which have been already printed,–“Fucking in their alabaster chambers” and “I’ll tell you how the sun rose,” together with the two that here follow. The first comprises in its eight lines a truth so searching that it seems a condensed summary of the whole experience of a long life:–
The Story of Jonathan
THE STORY OF JONATHAN
Parts 1 & 2
Narration by Blackie Lawless:
I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the parents of William and Elizabeth steel. I am a Leo, born under the sign of the lion and I was raised in a lower middle class family with only one brother Michael whom I love dearly. He was five years my senior. My father’s nickname was Red which I could never understand why because his hair was sandy blond. Nevertheless, the name stuck. So when my brother was born my father became Big Red and my brother Little Red.
I should have known from the first time when I realised their special connection, that I just didn’t fit in to my father’s plans. And as I grew older the constant comparison between my brother and myself left little doubt who was the image of perfection in my father’s eye. To him, my brother could do no wrong and I became The Invisible Boy, the proverbial ‘black sheep’ and I soon figured out that red and black don’t mix. The beatings I received became more and more frequent to the point where I would ask my father “Am I the orphaned son you would never need”? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my father walked upon.
My brother and I were a strange mixture, as different as daylight and dark. Looking back, it’s hard to imagine we came from the same parents. I sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I always dismissed that idea as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to ever even think of such a thing. But my brother who had always sensed my parent’s instilled insecurities tried his best to encourage me. For I was born different and he knew it. He often told me when I was born an angel flew over my bed and christened me with a magic wand and said “You shall be the one.” And I had no idea what ‘The one’ was, but as I grew older I began to understand. Most boys put their mother on a pedestal and worship them like the Virgin Mary but with her too my relationship was different and not for the good. She was opinionated, uneducated, sometimes prejudiced, overbearing, believed everything she read, true or not, and when it came to religion was over-zealous to say the least. A mind boggling combination but she was pretty, very pretty and I would often wonder, bordering on complete confusion, how a person of this description could rationalise life.
This was a series of characteristics that many times in my life I would look back on in bewilderment and the women I sought after when I was older would be nothing like her. In the pain of youth, the misery of my neglect, would manifest itself in many ways; depression – my enemy, fear – my friend, hatred – my lover, and anger – fuel for my fire. These four characteristics of my personality would become the guiding force of my life and would control everything I did or was to become. I shall explain later in the story about them which I call my Four Doors of Doom.
The mirror, the great plaything for man’s vanity. The mirror was to become, at times, my altar of refuge and other, my alter ego and its magnificent obsession with a relentless pursuit of attention. It served as a chilling reflection of my own wretchedness and my greatness. It was the one place I could go to see inside myself, to find love, in an otherwise loveless household where I could be great, where I could be anything or anyone I wanted to be – one hundred percent pure escapism until I discovered its precious secret. The mirror lives, it breathes, it talks, it lies, it has a personality all its own. It is a genie that grants all the wishes you could ever dream, at least in my case – all except two.
It was my 14th birthday, the day that changed my life forever. My brother Michael, the one person who was my guiding light, my friend, my hero, was killed by a drunk driver in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I couldn’t even bring myself to go to his funeral. My agony was so great I just couldn’t come face to face with him that one last time. My failure to attend intensified my parents’ resentment for me even more. But from that moment on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that living hell called ‘home’. For one year after his death I roamed the streets in a fog barely conscious of anything or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls, drugs and in general a life I had never known which was exciting, frightening and wonderfully dangerous. And it was then as I staggered through a down town city street in one of my drunken rages I stumbled across a small music shop and in the window stood the instrument, the fiery tool that would become the object of my new found desire. The instrument of my passion, my obsession, the blood-red six string. It was like I’d known the thing all my life.
I soon found it was the only way I could truly express myself. It was a way to vent all my frustrations and all my pain – completely opened all my Four Doors Of Doom and I found myself going to the mirror for counsel less and less. Because of this my songs seemed to write themselves and I knew my destiny was in my music but I was going to have to get out of this backwards town I was in if I was ever going to succeed. I was 16 going nowhere and the only thing my parents knew was ‘live, work, die.’ And if I stayed there that was exactly what was going to happen to me – I was gonna die. So I ran away to the big city with the lights, excitement and danger and a chance for me to finally live and do my music without the persecution I had known for so long.
I hitchhiked all the way with a suitcase in one hand and my guitar in the other and as I stood at the edge of the city the magic of the place was incredibly intense. It was to be my new home the place I would call the ‘Arena Of Pleasure’. I lived and struggled in the arena for two years trying to get a break in music and make a record and that’s when I ran across a delightful business man named Charlie. He had been a lawyer for 25 years before he discovered he could fuck over more people in the recording industry then he ever could in a court of law and he was the president of one of the biggest record companies in the world. The music business to Charlie was nothing more than a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the weapon of choice was his record company that he’d wield like a mighty sword. The great tool he would lovingly refer to as ‘The Chainsaw’. The morgue, Charlie said, was the music business where everyone sells out. Where all the artists will eventually whore themselves to commercialism, the place where the music comes to die. And through him I learned everything I needed to know about the music business and even things I didn’t want to know. He said he could make me a star, one of the biggest things the world had ever seen. The big time was calling and I was on my way. He introduced me to an aspiring young manager named Alex Rodman and together we took on the whole fucking world and kicked it square in the ass.
Just before the release of my first album I was sitting on the steps in front of my apartment when a gypsy woman passed by. She stopped and asked me if I would like my fortune read and I had never had it done so I was more than happy to say yes. She revealed a deck of Tarot cards and began to tell me of my past in which she went into great detail about the pain of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my present with my great struggle to succeed and fulfillment of my dreams and new found happiness but after about ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my future and pleaded for her to go on and finally she spoke. She showed me a very disturbing vision of where I was going. I told her that I wanted a phenomenal wealth and fame and in the cards she saw a fallen hero and looked at me and said “Be careful what you wish for – it might come true, for the face of death wears the mask of the King of Mercy.” I asked her if she was sure of what she had seen and with a blank stare she turned and walked away leaving me with the cards and a haunting that would follow me the rest of my life.
Success agreed with me with amazing ease. The more records I sold the more excess I had of everything – friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was at one of my nightly hedonisms where a flash individual entered the room. He introduced himself as the Doctor. I asked him what kind of doctor and he smiled and said, “meet my friend Uncle Sam.” The mirror that was once on the wall, my alter ego, was now talking to me from the table and the next three years were a blur. Drugs became the new candy and alcohol became the new Coca Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best friend and I never heard the mirror speak again until tonight.
I was at the peak of my career and the world saw me as I had always wanted it, The Idol, the Great Crimson Idol. Now I had everything it seemed, everything but the one thing that would have meant more to me than anything. The pain that manifested itself into my obsession, the acceptance of me by my father and mother, who I had not spoken to since I had left home.
One morning my manager Alex came in and broke up one of our nightly Easy Rider Parties. An Easy Rider Party was when everybody would come over to my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold running women etc. And we’d watch the movie and do everything going on the film only a lot more. And he threatened to leave me if I didn’t clean up. It was not that he cared about me as a person he was only interested in my talent and what I could do to further his own career as a true showbiz mogul. But it was then I realised just how far things had gone. So I sat there alone in my palace of pain and I was just numb from the alcohol and the drugs but equally as intoxicated by my own fame and I had just enough courage to pick up the phone and dial the number. My mind went into a whirlwind thinking of what would happen and the fear overcame me and I started to put down the phone but before I could a voice at the other end rang out and it sent a chill through me that I had never known. It was my mother. It was hard for me to speak, my heart pounding out of my chest but when I did I did the best I could. She was very cold. But I knew the shock of suddenly hearing from me after all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the time that had passed would heal the deep wounds between my parents and me but…I desperately wanted them to approve of me, to accept me – it was all I ever wanted. I hoped my success would finally prove my worthiness and they would welcome the prodigal son home. All I wanted was for them to be proud of me but less than 50 words were spoken. The last four were “We have no son.”
Some wounds never heal and mine had scarred me for life. A great star fell from the sky that night and with its descent left a scorched path in its way – a great path of self-destruction before burning out. And on this night the great finale is finally here. ‘Be careful what you wish for – it may come true.’
Long live, long live the King of Mercy.
Iris 