dou.pt

“Todos já tivemos objectos que a dada altura perderam o seu encanto. Alguns de nós tentam colocar esses bens no mercado de usados, mas muitos são arrumados e esquecidos para, eventualmente, serem deitados fora. É nessa altura que pensamos: ‘isto de certeza que dava jeito a alguém’. Mas como poderia um indivíduo ter conhecimento desses hipotéticos interessados?”. E assim surgiu a ideia do site dou.pt

Dia 03 de Novembro, pelas 17h00, na Fundação Calouste Gulbenkian (Lisboa), será apresentada a plataforma dou.pt, um site que vai unir quem quer a quem já não precisa.

dou.pt é um portal de doações que pretende revolucionar como os bens circulam em sociedade.
O projecto prevê ainda que todos os objectos que não encontrem novos donos possam ser reciclados de forma sustentável.
Ficou interessado? convidamo-lo a cuscar aqui.

Monos, Lorca y tangos rebeldes

Enquanto folheava um livro, cruzei-me com este poema que estava identificado como originalmente pertencendo a Lorca:

No hagas caso de lamentos
ni de falsas emociones;
las mejores devociones
son los grandes pensamientos.

Y, puesto que, por momentos,
el mal que te hirió se agrava, 
resurge, indómita y brava,
y antes de hundirte cobarde
estalla en pedazos y arde,
primero muerta que esclava.

Curioso é como acreditamos nas fontes que nos são oferecidas de bandeja. Geralmente bem embrulhadas. Com todos os requintes e exatidão do ponto de vista formal de apresentação. Afinal de contas são essas pequenas exigencias com que nos martelam os neurónios desde que iniciamos o secundário até à universidade. As fontes...
Bem, afinal não se pode dar tudo como garantido. Leia-se este texto interessante de Carlos Penelas, onde os dois primeiros parágrafos são tão actuais - poderiam ter sido escritos em Portugal - e os restantes colocam questões sobre a autoria de Frederico Garcia Lorca relativamente ao poema em questão:

Monos, Lorca y tangos rebeldes
Solía decirme el olvidado poeta orensano -generoso amigo- Xosé Conde: "Los poetas parecen monos, algunos saltan de aquí para allá". Con el tiempo comprobé que tenía razón. Muchos saltan de rama en rama y de premio en premio. Se auto elogian, se suspenden, se convocan. Se llaman, se publican, se coronan. Muchos hacen traducciones de sacristanes. Del portugués, del gallego, del italiano, del francés o del rumano. Y, como vivimos entre seres semianalfabetos, se confunden datos, trayectorias, lenguas y picardías. En verdad ninguna persona medianamente culta los toma en serio. Pero ellos continúan con sus lianas y cucardas. En fin, que el querido Héctor Ciocchini estuvo más de veinte años traduciendo El cementerio marino de Valery, en silencio. Hizo, además, tres versiones, con apuntes, emblemas y estudios significativos. Claro, finalmente logró, tal vez, la mejor traducción al castellano de una obra fundamental. Ciocchini, poeta y profesor de estilística, un hombre que hablaba y escribía ocho idiomas. Un hombre, además, honesto y transparente.

El cincuenta y seis por ciento de los "ciudadanos" porteños - todos los años concurren a la Feria Internacional del Libro de Buenos Aires más de un millón de personas - no abre un libro en doce meses. No toca un libro, no lee un libro en 365 días. En este panorama los "monos literarios". Recordemos que Sarmiento escribió cincuenta y tres libros. Nuestros ilustres presidentes, ministros, secretarios de cultura o directores de bibliotecas, ninguno. O los que publicaron son mejor ignorar. Menem pensaba que las novelas de Sócrates eran de Borges. La actual "presidenta" dice ser neohegeliana. A todo esto cientos de generales quemaron libros. Y miles de hombres, mujeres y niños duermen en las calles de una ciudad bombardeada. En todo el país no llegamos a tener mil librerías, muchas de ellas (se comenta) son lavado de dinero. En fin, que la vulgaridad es una imagen penosa que da el país. Y la indiferencia. Hablando de indiferencia, hice pública, hace una semana, mi solidaridad con Daniel Baremboim.

Dos meses atrás pude ver, en una vieja biblioteca popular, un poema enmarcado. Hacía más de cincuenta años que estaba allí. Lo reproduzco. Su título: España.

"No hagas caso de lamentos / ni de falsas emociones; / las mejores devociones / son los grandes pensamientos. / Y, puesto que, por momentos, / el mal que te hirió se agrava, / resurge, indómita y brava, / y antes de hundirte cobarde / estalla en pedazos y arde, / primero muerta que esclava." Al pie leemos: Federico García Lorca.

Advertí de inmediato que era imposible que ese poema lo hubiera escrito Lorca. Su lenguaje, su estructura, su título así lo delata. Como usted, caro lector recordará que formé parte en 1986 de la Comisión Popular de Homenaje del Cincuenta Aniversario de su Asesinato. Hicimos recitales, releí su obra. Más de treinta y tres actos en un mes. Hace dos años di una conferencia sobre su poesía. Busqué en estos días en su obra completa y no figuraba. Consulté con un poeta, un crítico literario y una profesora de Literatura Castellana. Ninguno lo recordaba ni podía ubicarlo. Me encontré con un trabajo de Luis Pérez Rodríguez de 1995. En él encuentro una cita del amigo y brillante catedrático Xesús Alonso Montero donde señala la relación de amistad entre Eduardo Blanco-Amor y García Lorca. Alonso Montero sospecha exactamente lo mismo: éste poema se lo adjudicaron a Federico. Sospecho que la confusión nace cuando se publica España heroica, Un homenaje en el segundo aniversario de lucha por su independencia, Editorial Teatro del Pueblo, Buenos Aires, 1938. Allí se lo adjudican. Para algunos el poema fue escrito por Blanco-Amor. Dudo de esa versión. El escritor orensano tenía otra fineza, otra mirada de lo literario. (...)]  (texto retirado daqui.)

Saiba mais sobre Carlos Penelas no seu blog http://www.carlospenelas.com/

Proposta de Orçamento de Estado 2012 - Viagens em executiva

Cara classe política de Portugal, uma vez que TODOS vamos/estamos a pagar pela MÁ GESTÃO DO PAÍS até à presente data, acho escandaloso, em particular, este artigo da vossa Proposta de Lei do Orçamento de Estado 2012 (este, que dá logo nas vistas!).
Dúvido que alguém, a esta altura do campeonato, esteja na disposição de continuar a alimentar mordomias.
As passagens por via aérea devem ser todas económicas e, se algum dos senhores desejar viajar em executiva deve, simplesmente, suportar do seu bolso o upgrade da mesma.
Tenham algum pudor, alterem o referido artigo e, para preservarem uma vida saudável a bordo, sigam as instruções que qualquer mortal habituado a viajar já adquiriu há muito tempo (em baixo).
Para quem ainda não leu aqui deixo o excerto que pode, na integra, ser consultado aqui.


(...)

Artigo 24.º

Alteração ao Decreto-Lei n.º 106/98, de 24 de Abril

O artigo 25.º do Decreto-Lei n.º 106/98, de 24 de Abril, alterado pelo Decreto-Lei

n.º 137/2010, de 28 de Dezembro, passa a ter a seguinte redacção:

«Artigo 25.º

[…]

1 - […].

2 - […].

3 - Por via aérea:

Classe executiva (ou equivalente)

a) Viagens de duração superior a quatro horas:
i) Membros do Governo, chefes e adjuntos dos respectivos gabinetes;
ii) Chefes de missão diplomática nas viagens que tenham por ponto de
partida ou de chegada o local do respectivo posto;
iii) Titulares de cargos de direcção superior de 1.º grau ou equiparados;
iv) Trabalhadores que acompanhem os membros dos órgãos de
soberania.
 
 
Ora podem viajar em classe económica e seguir os conselhos recomendados:


> Usar roupas largas e confortáveis;
> Considerar a utilização de meias elásticas especiais para viagens aéreas (à venda em farmácias e parafarmácias);
> Beber água, chá ou sumos de fruta com frequência. Sei que vos custa, mas as bebidas alcoólicas provocam a dilatação dos vasos sanguíneos e representam um factor de risco extra;
> Evitar cruzar as pernas quando se está sentado;
> Levantar-se com alguma frequência. Se possível, andar um pouco nos corredores do avião e fazer alguns exercícios simples de movimentação do pescoço, ombros, braços, pernas e tornozelos:

E a família cresceu mais uma vez

A Bonnie sobrevieu dois meses e alguns dias à perda do seu companheiro e amado Clyde.

Tirando os primeiros dias de estranheza, brevemente recomeçou as suas lides diárias. Solicitava mais festinhas e carinhos que o habitual, como se desse mais valor à companhia dos humanos. 

A idade avançada já lhe trazia algumas dificuldades a subir para a roda e caminhar no seu jogging diário. Longe ficavam as correrias loucas de autrora a par com o seu querido e inseparável Clyde.

Teve uma vida longa para esses pequenos roedores que são os Roborovski (Phodopus roborovskii) e deixou um legado de 63 crias que sempre cuidou, a par com o companheiro, de uma maneira exemplar.

Temos saudades dos nossos amiguinhos!

Há uns dias ditou o destino que a família crescesse uma vez mais.

Adoptámo-nos mutuamente.

Apresento-vos Fly.

Ángel González

Siempre lo que quieras
 Cuando tengas dinero regálame un anillo,
cuando no tengas nada dame una esquina de tu boca,
cuando no sepas qué hacer vente conmigo
-pero luego no digas que no sabes lo que haces.

Haces haces de leña en las mañanas
y se te vuelven flores en los brazos.
Yo te sostengo asida por los pétalos,
como te muevas te arrancaré el aroma.

Pero ya te lo dije:
cuando quieras marcharte ésta es la puerta:
se llama Ángel y conduce al llanto.



Um poema de Ángel González.

Steve Jobs' 2005 Stanford Commencement Address

Steve Jobs, June 12, 2005:

"I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.


The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.


My second story is about love and loss.

I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.

I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.


My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much."

Acordo...