my new playground

introducing my new blog. my domestic adventures.

http://mutfaktasurrealim.wordpress.com/

sorry, it will be in turkish only..

the aftermath and the women of my family

well..

the thesis is done, presented and approved.

presentation was a different experience, I hope I handled it well, since this is the first “real deal” presentation I’ve done in my life.

I am also very happy with my project iki. Servet Ulas, you are a king!

My family, Enrico, my friends, my teachers but especially Elif Ayiter, my thesis advisor, thank you for your support all the way.

I am quite speechless today.. I am a bit dizzy. Last night, when we return home from the presentation I became sick, nausiated and with a massive headache, I threw up all night, till the morning.. my mom says it’s the stress, I never felt it but my body did obviously. The stress rash, allergy is slowly dissappearing as well. thank god. I’ve had it almost 2 months now..

slowly things will find their original flow, starting with my sleep.. it is 2 o clock and I feel sleepy. I know it may sound weird to put it like this but, for the last couple of months I couldnt sleep until it’s 5 or 6 so it’s something, a step.

my sister is also graduating this year, from highschool (deutsche schule ıstanbul) and taking the university exams as well as applying for universities in germany. she wants to be an industrial designer or an architect. well since I am a visual communication designer and my dad an architect, it kind flows in her veins I guess. She’d make an awesome graphic designer actually, she has the sense, the talent and the eye but she doesn’t want it and I am not gonna push her.

last night when we returned home my mother was crying with pride. she was saying to us “do you know what a graduate is, a graduate is a person who is able of all things in her field, I have two graduate daughters, I couldn’t ask for more from god.” I am very happy that she feels this way. All my life, I was the strange one, the rebel in my family. my cousin, the daughter of my aunt, has a phd in genetics and biochemistry, everyone in my family from my mom’s side are teachers etc. and I was the constant drunk, depressed chick. who was doing something nobody could understand. at a certain point, even though that they are well educated people who went to grad school, my parents were even unable to understand what I was dealing with. I am glad, now they can understand and be proud. I know this may seem like the words of a person who needs approvel from her parents but honestly, I always craved for it. I don’t know why.. my mother critisized and still critisize us in every way possible. she always wants us to be perfect and at the very best possible.(she even had mad fantasies of me and my sister going to harvard law school once) so maybe it’s a need..

I want to talk about my mother a while.. I want to reason why she does what she does to us..

She was born and grew up (till middle school) in Kumburgaz. It’s a little town, almost a village near but outside of Istanbul. She has an older sister and a younger brother. Both my grandparents immigrated from Romania (a part of it, which is now Bulgaria) when they were children. My grandmother (whom I never had the chance to meet because we lost her when my mother was 20 from breast cancer) was a Village Institute trained teacher (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Village_Institutes) (as well as my grandfather) who took the entire population of her village against her to become a teacher. At that times people in rural areas thought that a girl who goes to school (esp. a school that is away, like a boarding school in this story) after a certain level of education would become a whore. My grandma’s father was understanding and he agreed on sending her to this boarding school miles away from their village. The people of the village were so pissed off that, when one day at the end of the school year my grandma wrote a letter to her father to pick her up from the school the villagers tore the letter and my grandma without his parents knowing that she will be returning home that day had to walk kilometers from school to her home, seeing her parents working in the fields without a clue what was happening,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this lovely lady is my grandmother.

My aunt and my mother studied middle school and highschool in Istanbul, in a all-girls boarding school with a wonderful garden, called Erenköy Kız Lisesi. Later my aunt took the same path as her parents and became a Biology teacher and my mom even though she studied German Language in university and international relations in grad school became a stewardess for Turkish Airlines. While she was studying in university, she began to work as well, at the age of 17. Until her retirement in 1996, she worked day and night, for us, sometimes leaving us with my dad and my nanny for a week when she had flights to far east. She traveled the world. She is one of the most determined and ambitious people I’ve ever known. Sometimes too much. but I can’t blame her, if she wasn’t like that she would have been a mediocre educated small town person (like my uncle, for example, he is a lazy electric technician who I don’t really like that much for what he’ve done to my mom and aunt-who is basically my second mom-). She tried and tried and worked and worked. I am glad I am able to make her proud. I am very happy. and I feel lucky to have her as my mom. I love you mom.

my sister, my mom and I

till friday

2 final exams from two languages. italian and spanish.

but the real thing is that,  I reached 7000 words, 3000 more to go, 2 and a half chapters. I can do it. yes. dım dım dı dı dımmmm (imaginary motivational song).

all I want after this thesis ends, in short term is going out to celebrate and drink until I forget what I was celebrating.. and seeing enrico.

last days oh fuck.

it’s left something like 13-14 days for me to turn my thesis in. haha. hahaha. hah. I haven’t been out of campus  in 15 days or more (my parents paid me a visit with reinforcements, cigarettes, food and drugs), still have 3 chapters to write, 20 books to read, a project to code, a spanish final, a poster for italian, a presentation for italian, a final for italian.. a have a badass cold, a painful period and an invincible stress allergy.

I am having the best dreams ever though..

every day.I am taking an antidepressant, a flu pill, an allergy pill, a vitamin pill and a antipsychotic pill. (I don’t know if I am spelling it right)

I am quite happy. I don’t really know but very peaceful. my subconscious tells a different story to my body but oh who cares.

the iki project is gonna be so amazing though. probably the only really amazing thing this 2 years (other than excessive amounts of epic fail, self pity, hangover, nervous breakdowns etc.) I lived, in the last two years, double the amount of things you need to be closed to a nuthouse. yeyy. I am still pretty sane. and happy.

and I need a very urgent haircut. my bangs are taking over my face.

cascando

before doing “oda a las cosas rotas” last week I did another poem visualization for another project (I applied for a photography prize with that, but I won’t say which one not to jinx it, let’s say something international). I visualized Samuel Beckett’s Cascando’s second and third parts. Here is the poem:

1

why not merely the despaired of
occasion of
wordshed

is it not better abort than be barren

the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want
bringing up the bones the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours
all always is it better too soon than never
the black want splashing their faces
saying again nine days never floated the loved
nor nine months
nor nine lives

2

saying again
if you do not teach me I shall not learn
saying again there is a last
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing not knowing pretending
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love

the churn of stale words in the heart again
love love love thud of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words

terrified again
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved and not by you
of knowing not knowing pretending
pretending

I and all the others that will love you
if they love you

3

unless they love you

 

and here is my work;

 

 

oda a las cosas rotas/ode to broken things

I know it’s been a long long time since I paid attention on running this blog. Sorry for the delay, but you gotta understand me, this thesis thing is sucking my time dry. well whatever, this week, I did this for photography&expression class. I wanted to visualize Pablo Neruda’s wonderful poem, “oda a las cosas rotas” for text&image assignment. I had “demasiado” amounts of pleasure. Since the poem means a lot to me, and it really breaks my heart in some secret ways, I really felt right while doing this project. It was one of the most satisfying projects I ever done in my entire life.

 

 

 

 

for the non spanish speaker folks, here is the english translation of the poem.

 

Ode to Broken Things

Things get broken

at home

like they were pushed

by an invisible, deliberate smasher.

It’s not my hands

or yours

It wasn’t the girls

with their hard fingernails

or the motion of the planet.

It wasn’t anything or anybody

It wasn’t the wind

It wasn’t the orange-colored noontime

Or night over the earth

It wasn’t even the nose or the elbow

Or the hips getting bigger

or the ankle

or the air.

The plate broke, the lamp fell

All the flower pots tumbled over

one by one. That pot

which overflowed with scarlet

in the middle of October,

it got tired from all the violets

and another empty one

rolled round and round and round

all through winter

until it was only the powder

of a flowerpot,

a broken memory, shining dust.

 

And that clock

whose sound

was

the voice of our lives,

the secret

thread of our weeks,

which released

one by one, so many hours

for honey and silence

for so many births and jobs,

that clock also

fell

and its delicate blue guts

vibrated

among the broken glass

its wide heart

unsprung.

 

Life goes on grinding up

glass, wearing out clothes

making fragments

breaking down

forms

and what lasts through time

is like an island on a ship in the sea,

perishable

surrounded by dangerous fragility

by merciless waters and threats.

 

Let’s put all our treasures together

– the clocks, plates, cups cracked by the cold –

into a sack and carry them

to the sea

and let our possessions sink

into one alarming breaker

that sounds like a river.

May whatever breaks

be reconstructed by the sea

with the long labor of its tides.

So many useless things

which nobody broke

but which got broken anyway.

(beni) kimse duymaz

my new self entertainment.

www.myspace.com/beni_kimseduymaz

 

and it’s blog

 

benikimseduymaz.tumblr.com

bla bla bla

bunu kim okuyorsa ona,

canım o kadar çok sıkılıyor ki şu anda ne yapacağımı bilmiyorum ve sevgili blogumu da bu işe alet edeceğim.

ki aslında bugün çok güzeldi. bu hafta ikinci defa büyük ev ablukada konserine gittik kardeşimle. çok eğlenceliler. bugünkü konser de ilginçti. daha önce hiç kulaklıkla konser izlememiştim, akvaryuma kulağımı dayamak gibi oluyordu çıkartınca ve herkes sinema izliyor gibiydi bir süre  de onları izledim ve çok sessiz bir konserdi bir yandan bir yandan da herkes sayıklıyordu. çok zevk aldım. ben dışarı çıkmayı özlemişim. bu hafta bunu gördüm. odamdan çıkmamak prensibiyle yaşamama bir son vermem lazım. mesela yarın temizlik var yine o odadan bu odaya kovalanacağım. aslında yapmam gereken hayvan gibi iş var ama ben çok üşengeç bir insan oldum son zamanlarda. lunaparka filan gitmek istiyorum ya daaaa KAVGA ETMEK İSTİYORUM. böyle fiziksel bir atraksiyon olsun. spor demiyorum ama değil mi? ahahaha işte bu kadar üşengecim, kavga ayağıma gelsin.

 

o zaman sana pek de o kadar ilginç olmayan bir çocukluk anımı anlatıyım. şu anda gerçekten çok yalnız olmalıyım ki böyle bir abukluk yapıyorum. ben küçükken, ama böyle epey küçük bir çocukken bir kuşum vardı. adını hatırlamıyorum. saka cinsine mensup bir kuş. bir gün bu hasta oldu annemle babam da veterinere götürdüler. bir gün  sonra kuş hala yok meydanda. neyse o akşam annemler gidip kuşu aldılar. kuş eve iskete olarak geldi. ve ben uzun bir zaman (maksimum 2 yıldır diye tahmin ediyorum ama küçükken her zaman uzun zamanmış gibi geliyor) o kuşun ameliyatla iskete olduğunu düşündüm.

 

bir defa da ilkokulda bir arıya cenaze töreni düzenliyip bahçeye gömmüştük. arkadaşımın harika kavanozda arı besleme planlarının sonucu olarak bu acıyı o yaşta yaşamak tramvatik oluyor. sonra neden böyle bir kız oldun diye soruyor annem. işte bu ve bunun gibi olaylar yüzünden.

bu aralar huzurluyum. ne güzel değil mi? tek derdim. hmm neydi? yok galiba yaa. ne güzel. tezimi nasıl yazacağım? olabilir bu bak. bu konu çok muallak köşelerinden birinde kafamın. çünkü gerçekten hiç bir fikrim yok. sırası gelsin düşünürüz. olmadı oturur yazarım. ne yapayım.

hayatta ne yapmak istiyorum bilmiyorum. ne yapsam olurmuş gibi geliyor bu günlerde. mesela italyada ya da ispanyada çalışmak istiyorum bir yandan. bir yandan da istanbulda kalmak istiyorrum. ama aslında hiç bir şey yapasım da yok gibi. çünkü tembelim çünkü üşengecim çünkü 23 yaşındayım (bahanelere gel).

köpeğim olsun istiyorum. ama öyle böyle bir istemek değil. çıldırıyorum. bu istediğim bir şey mesela. demek ki varmış istediğim bir şey. her gün facebooktan barınak köpeklerinin fotoğraflarına bakıyorum. bunu mu alsam bunu mu derken (sanki alabilecekmişim gibi) buluyorum kendimi. babam evde köepk mi olur köpek bahçede olur diyor annem de bir anne klasiği olan, kendi evin olsun alırsın diyor. ben de mal mal bakıyorum. ertesi gün yine aynı şey. sanırım bir köpek alacağım seneye, habersiz getireceğim eve (eğer istanbulda kalırsam) alın size köpek! diyeceğim, kovacak halleri yok sonuçta, baktığımı görünce kızmazlar hatta bence 1 hafta sonra ailemizin yeni neşeli üyesi olur alışırlar bile. severler de.

 

işte böyle, şu saniyede yazdığım bu şeyden de sıkıldım. kaçıyorum.

thank you.

where will I be, this time, next year?

which language will I speak?

from my window, what will I see?

who knows, I don’t..

but there is one fact, I am having a very good time this year, everything is going pretty good. school is amazing, I mean I am learning great things every day, by living them.

I don’t know if they are ever going to read this post, but I want to take a second here and thank some people for this and last year, for everything they thought to me, directly or indirectly, I wouldn’t be able to achieve things I am achieving without them, some my teachers, some my friends, some are more than friends and some are family.

a thank you list:

first of all, Elif Ayiter a.k.a Alpha Auer, my amazing thesis advisor and one of the best teachers I have EVER came across, in my life, thank you for everything, you have opened the gates of a totally new universe for me.

www.citrinitas.com

www.alphaauer.com

Secondly Nazli Eda Noyan, my favorite teacher from my undergrad. school, Bahcesehir University, with whom I couldn’t spend much time in this passing 2 years but who will always be a great influence in my life, because she was the first person who taught me how to open the doors of my imagination in ways I didn’t know, who always supported me when others didn’t. I felt and still feel that she is more like the older sister I never had other than being a pretty kick-ass teacher.

www.girlsawthesea.net

Onur Yazicigil to whom I assisted for three semesters so far at Sabanci University, in classes, Envisioning Information, Design with Typography and Project Studio 3, who taught me a lot of things about design and life, his guidance has opened new horizons in my seeing of things, thank you.

www.onuryazicigil.com

Murat Germen who taught me many things about photography, design, seeing things and teaching, he is an amazing teacher, thank you.

www.muratgermen.com

Selcuk Artut who showed me, even in worst cases (like myself in physical computing) there is some hope after all, and who supported me in doing projects that are personal rather than functional, who valued “process” more than the final product, thank you, I was almost losing hope and trust in myself.

www.selcukartut.com

My dear friends and colleagues Emir Arkman (who is doing his military duty right now and will be back by May), Ilgi Candar, Bike Kefeli, Deniz Cem Onduygu, Emre Parlak, Belkis Isik, Servet Ulas, Ahmet Turkoglu, Aysegul Kantarci, Sinan Ileri, who helped me and inspired me in both creative and life-like ways, who helped me build back myself, who have been with me when I needed them, or who were simply my friends. thank you all.

my friends (or shall I say sisters), Bilge Batu and Ece Nalbantoglu, you know you are jewels.

Enrico Piciarelli, my light at the end of every tunnel, thank you, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be able to look myself in the mirror every morning. you showed me, sometimes, stories and dreams can come through against every possible avoidance of common logic. I believe in the holy pigull and the flying spaghetti monster.

my family, Cetin Akyar, Bilgin Akyar and Hayat Akyar, for everything, the list of things you push me and pull me through is endless, thank you for my life.

and every single student who took the classes I assisted, from each and every of you I learnt a new thing every day, I hope I did show you somethings useful for design and life, I had an amazing time, trying to help you in subjects you needed my help at.

uzun boylu bir kadin