End of The Year Thought

I was in Wien, I came back. The story in all in Hungarian, and since I hate to repeat myself, I will not translate. Sorry. Go to Wien if you wish to know what's like. I'll tell my friends in person. However, to summarize for you, Wien was:

1. Cold
2. Pretty
3. Not the place where I would like to live for a long period of time.

What can I say? I'm a more "Budapest" kind of person. I actually like a city that has some hot blood and life in it. Not to mention, a city where I can speak fully the language and not start everything with "Enschuldigung...", and wonder eternally why haven't I found the conditional of "möchte" to express myself a little more properly. Strange thing, when my unexistent German failed me, I tended to countinue my quest in French rather than in English. Too much French. ... Nah, not such a thing.

I was thinking about a friend of mine, and how he has this romantic, "turn of the century" view of the life and the "proper behavior", where the external signs, the "actions" are made to fit the feelings, or proper feelings of people. The kind of behavior and expectations on which the polite behavior and its rules stand. Though I understand that politeness is needed to keep a fluent, non-convulsed social coexistence, I believe that giving a predominant value to actions over meaning, feelings and emotions, is not a wise, nor a human, or pro-human attitude. Feelings and emotions can happen independently of the actions, prior or later to them. Emotions are neither attached to actions, nor words. The problem, I believe is in the matter that actions can be quite defined, determinated and unilateral, while feelings, thoughts and emotions are multileveled, multidirectional and expansive. Make the action the glass and the emotion the water: the glass can't always contain perfectly the water.

Though the communication of the emotions and thoughts require actions, make them movement, words or any other type of action, embodying a single action with a specific emotion is a great mistake. This is what makes people pull apart.

Why can't people just pull back from the action and understand that the emotional life is not what's always seen on the skin? Why do they take gestures and words, and smiles and kisses for granted? The richness of the emotional world is shrunk into the little trunk of the action-paramethers precoded by some uptight asshole who wouldn't understand people even with a dictionary.

St. James says that the Doing withouth the Faith is dead. No action, no deed without Faith can be great or meaningful. I do not see myself as some holy person, quite the contraty, but it his steps I wish to say, that any Action without Emotion is Void. Is not the Action what fills the emotion with reality and meaning, but the emotion which fills the action, any action, even the no-action with life. As we shoudl see the Faith in the Deed, we should watch the emotion in the Action, and not the other way around.

It's late and I'm off for the nigth,

Out for Three Days

Do not look for me, I probably won't be able to post from tomorrow to Saturday, since *I* will be in Wien. ^_^ Yes, yes, yes, the city of Mozart, Freud and Maria-Theresia. What will I do? *looks around* Well, nobody seems to know the answer, why would I? Hehehe... I'll have fun and do whatever pleases me when it pleases me. I want Wien all for my own.

...

In the Holidays, it seems there are only a few news, or at least a few journalists working. Perhaps it's unfair for me, who have been almost three weeks not working (one week on sick days and soon to fulfil two-and-a-half on vacations), to expect others to work all the time. Hey, I'm home, I want my news! We peopel can be so unconsiderated to one another. So, I guess journalists are entitled to take some vacations for their own purposes. So, There's so little of the Washington Post, I barely receive a section per day instead of my issue full paper and the separated fuller sections of Politics and Technology. I actually expected no news to comment, but then again, CNN don't stop. The article that caught my attention is this piece titled: "India's Outsourcing Industry Takes Toll on Workforce". I don't link it since I have no idea if you can follow the link or not. Most likely you can't since it's an e-mail encoded site.

Since it has to do with "work", "labor", I was insterested. Hey, I'm a Development Economist after all, and I'm passionate about what I learned. As I opened the article, I realized it is about the situation in the call centers in India. It names cases in IBM Corp, Hewlett-Packard and Intel among others. The article basically says that though this jobs pay people more than what they could ordinarily earn, it's causing several problems to the health and mental and emotional health of the people. Weight disorders, heart disease, sleep disorders and so on. Their trget labor force is composed by people between 20 and 30, I guess, they project themselves as a "temporary job" place. Then again, due to the harsh conditions, regardless to the good payment, the job churn rate must be quite high.

I have friends and acquintances working in Costa Rica in this industry, and it honestly concerns me. It's also depressing to see how even Universities have opened the "Call Center Officer" fac. I don't understand why people can't see this is going the very wrong way. Okay, there are people who have worked a lifetime as call center operators (mostly at telecommunication enterprises... like giving information and so), but that can't be compared with what goes on today. What I see is a modern version of the same horrors described by Karl Marx in his Masterpiece "Das Kapital": the poor, starved, young worker is squeezed for the maximum profit: little payment, long hours of hard, demanding work. If we were horrified at tales of six year-old kids dying in the mines, and twenty-year-old girls literaly worked to death in embriodery shops, or at seamstresses, then why can't we see how our youth is robbed of their health and possibility to grow by this companies. How many of them can use the money they earn to further educate themselves and find a better job?

Though I preech that the economics are merely eficient, and leave the social problems to others, it's not our place (as economists) to solve the world, I'm sorry to tell this enterprises, that the social part is needed to keep our laborforce healthy and productive for years to come. Kill them before they can get their pensions is not a viable solution. Squeezing them and making them work sick and depressed is not a productive, eficient solution, and though the economics can separate themselves from the social part at the theoretical level (that's what the Ceteris Paribus is for), at the practical level they can't. Furthermore, we economists still float several levels above the ground and society, since we are still the macro planners, but the enterprise, which is IN the society, must be careful and conscient about the society.

Call centers around the world should consider the social and health factor of their employees and change their politics.

1. Shorter worktimes (make it a part-time job for everybody! Do not allow full-timers due to health considerations, like the health of the ear.)
2. Respect natural working hours as well as holidays and the native customs and habits.
3. Promote the social interaction of the employees as well as the interaction of the enterprise with the environment and the society.
4. Promote the further education of the employees

Familiy, friends and self. Health and comfort. Enterprises work with people, and if they should care for the people at least as much as they care for the machinery and equipment... and actually far more.

Money

So, I wasn't paid because they haven't paid? Oh cool. And when was I supposed to know that? These people as stupid.

I run through the news these days and nothing really catches my attention. Sarkozy is spending his Christmas in Egypt. Alitalia is flunking... all that goes in my mind is my paying capacity (which is reduced unless I touch my Euros, which I'm reluctant), and the rest of my trip. Vienna is now present more than ever in my mind.

I have a new, dear friend, Laszló. I call him Horseman. There's something about him that drives me to him. He's so gentle!

It's late again, and I should be in bed. Tomorrow we'll attend mass at the Kék Golyó street Lutheran Church. This is one of the few times I can actually go to my church, so I take every available opportunity. My friend, Carrie said something that can be paraphrased like this: God and Jesus are everywhere, not only in Church, but at church you can find the so needed congregation. Not in so many words, but this is the main idea (she's much better articulated).

I wonder if the world is so much different here than back at home... my other home, and if it is not, they why can't we solve our problems the same way?

Some friends of mine were talking about how a University title is completely irrelevant here to get a good job because, according to them, there are no good jobs, no well paying jobs at least, and everybody is poor. Life is different, but I wouldn't say people is poor here. Things are expensive and there are more bills, but life is possible. I feel offended when people dismiss diplomas arguing that "there's people out there with many diplomas starving and unable to get a job". I say, there's people who hasn't found their right timing or are looking at the wrong places and in the worng way. I know that getting a good job is hard, and many times you need "protection" to get somewhere, but I have scanned the Internet, I have seen good enterprises seeking people with experience and skills, AND the diploma to fill some positions, so it is a blatant lie that diplomas are useless. Yes, they are "in the way" if you don't have the experience, but hard work and the strenght to keep going, faith in God, above all, can take you here and anywhere to be where you want to be.

I don't want to be disgustingly rich, or dirty rich, I just want to live well, have no money isues, and be able to support my family, keep them comfortable. I want to be able to help my family as well as my home, my land, my country. I don't need the richness of kings, only the comfort of a good home and the satisfaction that the investment made with me has paid back. I have put my faith on the Lord, and wherever he takes me will bem withouth the slightest of doubts, the best place for me.

It is my believe, however, that God has given us capabilities, and we must put them to good use. Study if we can do it, and make ourselves usefull. Sure, we all complain from time to time, but complain about our lives, our fate after it has been given to us the chance to do something with it, is an insult to God. One must be man enough to face the consequences of what we do with our lives and our capabilities.

Homesick

As I type now in English, I somehow hear myself not in my usual accent, but THINKING with the Hungarian accent. Not like I have managed it back, but my English sounds in my head with the hard Hungarian accent. My grandpa noted that my Hungarian has deteriorated notably. I knew that since I find talking entirely in Hungarian rather difficult and I feel constantly tempted to drive into English, plusz I'm stuck at many of the long words product of the composition of many sufixes. How can my own mothertongue become a tongue-breaker for me? It's sad.

His remark went not on the matter of my grammar (which is so poor it should be receiving some Government aid), or my reduced vocabulary, but my pronounciation and my marked accent. Well, a few days ago I received a comment I have never received before: a guy said he loved my "Spanish accent". I have been told I have "American Accent", but no one has ever accused me of Spanish accent. It was heartbreaking. I must, definitivelly practice more.

It's worrying, truth to be told, how I have emptied three debit cards already. Okay, I do have 280€ in my Euro account (for which I have a card), and then 200€ at my brand new account in my Hungarian account (in an Austrian bank, thank you), for which I still don't have a card, even though I do was charged with the 13,71€ it costs... (can take the money out from a teller...), BUT I don't have my cards otherwise with money. Not my "colón" cards. Hope I do have some money left though. I still need 6000.- Ft to leave my aunt enough to send my card after me. ( Okay, reality check: who feels poor with... 280+200+40= 520€? Oh yes, big spender me...)

I waked yesterday down Váci utca alone, looking for a fair of Hungarian artisans exposing their goods. The Váci utca (Váci street) is a very touristic street turned into a boulevar where you can find a lot of Hungarian goods, traditional styles (like the beautiful red coat you can see in the picture) for prices so high, only the megarich could pay... or the occasional tourist, who could think that a couat like that does worth 80.000 Ft (around 310€ or $465), being this a bargain price, as I do have seen a couple of these beautiful creations for around 345.000 Ft. (You do the maths.) The fair had better prices, and everything was incredibly beautiful. There were a few furs I was tempted to buy and I would have if I only had space to carry them home. The furs were soft, and I believe they where made of sheep or something like that. They looked particularly warm and soft in this chilly, -4°C.

There was a lot of people there, and the artisans made a great show. There was music, traditional music, traditional instrument, including a "doromb", which I was tempted, to buy, except I would have no way to explain that, no, that's not a weapon, but a musical instrument, regardless of the strange sound it makes. I felt drowned into the place, into the city and into the middle of so much gathered tradition. The more I stay here, the more I feel like I belong, and so I find myself looking around for an apartment, a place to start my life here. I know I'm not in my youngest, and really, I'm quite "over the hill" for many things, but this is where I want to be. I feel the wish and the "need" to be here, to come back to my home. I've made a resolution, which becomes more and more firm with time: I want to come back home, I want to live again and this time forever, in Hungary. This is my home.

It's All Over The Place

What makes people think that the privatizing of capitals and goods and propuctions willbe better than the socializing of them? What makes them think that privatization can finish corruption? How can people be so stupid?

I'm not at home, but at the place of a friend's parents, out in the rural Hungary. Houses look so much different from those we are used to. Foods are also different... and they have a gozillian pets. This is people too, and you find out that it's not what it used to be.

Everybody complains, always complains and people won't be people if they wouldn't complain, so, I believe this gnawing corruption grows on this matter. It's not a matter of giving things to the private enterpreneurs, but rather to clease the public administration from all those motherfuckers who think they can keep skimming the money and living the big life out of the taxes. On and on we see how many people pay LOADS for taxes and then get nothing from their money. Bad public administrations. Is it the solution to take then the matters from the public to the private? Let's say, in the best case scenarion, the tax for it would also be eliminated. Can the private make it for the public service? Better? I don't think so, and here's the economical reason why.

If you make a given service private, make it health, education, infrastructure, social insurance or whatever, it's possible it will be taken over by different enterprises (because there will be competition), or it could be taken over by one only enterprise. Unless the enterprise is a big, transnational enterprise, its costs would be higher than those the State would have, since the State can get better prices due to:

1. It's size
2. The size of it's purchase
3. It's stability, as in the State will last forever, therefore, the enterprises selling to it can be sure that if they please the State, they can have an eternal client.
4. Due to its stability and capacity of payment (States never go into bankrupcy... save very special occasions (Mexico 1982), and yet it can bounce back from it.)

These are qualities no enterprise can fulfil, therefore they can't back up a purchase or a business the same way a country, a State can.

Aside from it, it's a known fact that enterprises work for a profit, the State works for the benefit of the nation, therefore, the State offers its services either for free or for the cost of them. So, given two services, one given by an enterprise and one for the State, the one given for the State would be for free.

Here's where you run out of the economical discussion and say: "Yes, but the State is corrupt and it doesn't work, while the private business is efficient and isn't corrupt."

First, the State can be eficient if the correct controls are applied. That's not the case. At the same time, you call the private enterprises eficient? Like... AT&T? Sprint? Like the Health Insurance Companies? Humana? So, how's it again? Please break down this "private is efficient"? Then, the private is corrupt, but either they have the RIGHT to make exceptions among people, or they PUSH the public corruption through lobbying. The Public corruption has always happened due to the private interest (most of the times....)

I believe that privatizing is a direct step towards just embracing the bad, giving away the social interest, and condoning corruption, now under its twisted legalization by the market, seen as a "reasonable way for cutting prices" or "further investing, stock diversification and profit increasing".

Give me one single example of privatizing gone well.

I rest my case.

Trip

I can't say I'm already adapted to Hungary, but slowly I'm getting used to it again. The first days were impossible with my allergies and my asthma and I felt like coughing my lungs out or ripping a hole into my throat any minute. By today, I feel already better on the breathing department, and my eyes are not as sensitive to the cold and the wind as they still were yesterday.

Managing two or more journals sometimes can be hard when you feel you have to stick to certain information in each of them, so "breaching" that lable can prove being difficult. However, as I was telling a friend of mine today, the more people can free themselves from lables, the happier and fuller they can live. So here comes something I would usually write in Hókisasszony, but which I will write down here so some of my non-Hungarian speaking friends can read it as well.

«(_.^._)»

To say that my trip home was "rocky" it would be a crass understatement. A harrassing boss, months of anguis upon the cruel uncertainty about my actual chance to go, the money matter both at purchasing the ticket and then the Saturday right before my departure... I was ready to snap. I was going crazy! Of course, the extra 3Kg of baggage wasn't for fun either! The uncertainty about whether the boxes of disfruta would be squeezed and fload my luggage in pineapple and guava juice wasn't very reassuring. It's fairly safe to say I was nervous when I've got to the airport. So much, I couldn't even remember the way to the Gate from which I would depart, even so the plane departs always from the same gate. LR 631, SJO-CCS, 10:30, Gate 2. They write "Gate 4" but it's always Gate 2. Since I couldn't go smoking (fucking asthma), I walked around and ended up at a foodcourt with my stomach revolted from all the foul smells of pizza and burgers, trying to imagine how people was able to down that crap. I wanted to write. Write a letter, my journal... something, and I had to score a breakfast, since, really, breakfast was in place. So I went for a "liquid breakfast". consisting on:

1 Heineken can
1 Adrenalina can
1 pack of Doritos

Okay, maybe the Doritos was out of place and not as healthy and fortifying as the rest, but it was the only non-liquid thing I felt I could down. I made a few calls, and did try to write something. I couldn't get through with the letters, so I fished out my journal and wrote a few things. My handwriting was shaky and very erratic. I was carrying a pink gift bag (HUGE) with my winter coat, a big pink ballet-bag with Omi and a pink ballet purse. How do I manage? Oh, it wasn't that hard.

Near the Gate were I had to board my flight there's this jewelry store. I wasn't looking at it since it has a lost of stuff that's not my style. Too "native" or too big, too flashy, to "old lady with money". Then there was this collection of amber, which is a personal call, and I saw this magnificent necklace with an amber peacock. Had to take a picture of it. ^_^ Two of my favorite things together.

Once up in the Taca flight, I was finally relaxing and truly entering "vacations" attitude. Perhaps up to that point I was afraid the asshole of my boss would call me with some idiotic demand or just a new, invented problem made exclusively to fuck up with my peace of mind. Really, his sole work is to viciously concentrate in selected members of the team to sistematically fuck up with out peace of mind so he can feel powerful. Now I was the lucky. Well, someone should have told the s.o.b. that this bitch has:

1. A psychological problem
2. Bad temper
3. Short fuse
4. Tendency to involve Unions and Labour Relations.

Really, it will be so messy, that if someone were to take it on tape, it could be sold as the "unpublished work of Tarantino". However, up in the air, after I've got my adrenaline fix from the speeding up before the take off (my fave part of flying), I was nice and smiley. I was feeling so nice, I took a middle seat and gave up my favored "aisle seat" so a family could sit together. I always ask for aisle seats so I can get up and go to the "bar" of the plane (aparently called the "kitchen"), to have easier access to the bathrooms, but mostly to be the first in running of the plane when it has landed and I have to go for my connection flight.

Caracas was a slight set back. There was no post office at the place, where I wanted to send a few postcards to my friends and colleagues, then everything looked so fucking expensive I almost had a heart attack. I decided to lunch some sushi, and so I went to this place where I took a nice table, sat down my journal, ordered alaska rolls and wrote while waited for my food. I had an allergic fit at the middle of a piece of sushi. My eyes watered and I coughed and heaved until my throat was raw and my tongue hurt like a bitch. I then tried to finish the sushi, but couldn't. So I went to pay. It was 36000 bolívares. At 2500 bolívares per USD, it was like $14.4. They didn't tell me that if I paid in USD, I would get bolívares back, so after a lot of mambo-yambo, I've got back 5600 bolívares. In other words, $2.24. Would I not be recovering from the fit, I would I told them it was sad that either they were robbing passangers or that they couldn't do the maths. Not like I mind some lousy $4. P-Lease! But it was the shameless way in which they did it. I mean, FUCK, my friend Jules knows I'm usually a generous tipper. I mean, You could charge me 20€ for some little lunch and I would slip you a 10€ or at least a 5€ instead of the customary 10%. I would have left the rest of the change with them if they would have been more decent, more honest, Like this, they just made sure I would never return to that place. And actually, for everybody to know, the place it's a quite sweetlooking restaurant in front of the entrace of the Gate 16. It's all surrounded by glass, and separated from the foodcourt that rolls behind it. Don't go there: they will cheat the pennies out of your pocket!

After thatm and with some bolívares I had to spend, I went to look for postcards I intended to send from CDG, the airport in Paris. I found some very beautiful postcards, and them walked slowly to my Gate (14), to be close for the boarding. Close to it was this place you can see in the photo. They sell magazines and postcards and some books, but they also have a cyber. The price was cheap: 400 Bolívares for 30 minutes, 800 for an hour. The place is incredibly nice and the guy working there is a honey! I was thinking in actually using up my bolívares to check on my mail and perhaps write a few lines here, when I noticed the HUGE line for the plane. Whadda... it was still almost 2 hours before take off! Well, they were boarding. I went to the line, as as I looked back at the cyber, I noticed they had made a huge "at" in front of it. I found it so cute and so creative that I had to take a picture of it. It's a simple and creative way to express an idea.

The boarding took some time since we were checked three times. Really, what in the hell am I supposed to smuggle in from the entrance of the "sleeve" to the middle of the "sleeve" that takes you to the plane? Since I was planning spend ten hours in Paris, I checked the news papers offered at the plane (actually a few feet away from it in the sleeve), looking for Le Figaro. There was the chance of a strike, so I wanted to read news on that regard. There was no Le Figaro, only Le Monde and some Le Journal de Dimanche. I do asked the flight attendant lady if there was, by any chance Le Figaro, but there was not.

Flight AF461. Oh, I know it already.

My seat was the 42C. Such a big number freightened me, asi t meant it should be in the rear or near the rear of the plane. However I would have never guessed it's actual location: next to the kitchen. I stared down at the seat in horror. It was narrower than usual and crampy. Oh boy. I managed in somehow, and then had a father and daughter seated next to me, who proved to be upthight and obnoxious as hell. The passanger in front of me was an s.o.b. who reclined her seat almost into my lap, regardless of it being lunch or whatever time. So I placed the journals, unfolded the table and started finally writing my letter to Jules. (Attempt 10.) I was doing well, then suddenly came a flight attendant and gave me an Elle. I looked at him and smiled, thanked him and paged through it a little. Naturally, as he was turning, I checked out his ass. It was so nice I smiled for myself. One thing you can count on with Air France are the hot flight attendants.

However, once his firm, pert ass was out of my sight, I was somewhat annoyed, since I wanted to keep writing, but felt it would be unpolite to just stash the magazines away. There was something in being given Elle magazines that I took, at that moment, as "offending". It's not offending per se, but it was a bit "offending" in the labeling way that "women read and are interested in women magazines". Then, the guy appeared again and gave me an Elle Decoration. I smiled again and took the magazine. Okay. That was for the letter-writing. I stashed away the letter and pages through both the magazines. It wasn't bad, since there were advertizings with very hot guys with towels wrapped low around their hips and stuff like that.

When I finished paging through them, I went for my papers, and started scanning headlines and so. The guy appeared then again, now asking me if I had found the magazines interesting. I don't recall the conversatin precisely but it was something like:

"Oh yes, there are interesting things in them."
"So you liked it?"
"I actually would prefer to read Le Figaro."

I know, that was very mean, unpolite and uncalled for. If I have a problem, that poor guy has nothing to do with it, so he should not be the receiver of my frustraton. He smiled and went away. I was feeling really bad. That was really uncalled for. So I decided that the next time I saw him I would apologize. I then took in hand again the magazines and scanned them carefully, finding an interesting article abour Ingrid Betancourt. I wanted to be truthful to the guy and show I do have liked and I do have read the magazines. To further understand this, all conversations and all reading were entirely in French.

"I'm sorry! I would like to thank you for the magazines! It has been so nice from you!"

He smiled a huge smile and asked me what did I like to read. He actually took the time to listen to me as I explained him that being an economist working at a telcos, I was interesed in economical topics and telecommunications. He was gone and little after he offered me two magazines related to business, politics and telecommunications. These were Challenges and Le Nouvel Observateur. Naturally, all in French. Air France flight attendants are normally very friendly, and very out-for-the-customer. They do make the extra mile to please you and make you thing they are giving you a priviledged treatmen nobody else is receiving. I'm a sucker for those things, so I was happy, he was taking such a good care of me. Little after he was paying me sweet compliments, telling me about my "jolie sourire" that made me blush and smile further. He did made me laugh when he pulled on some black bloved which had skeleton hands printed on the back with neon paint that glows in the dark. I just found that so sweet and character-full. He laughed with me, made all kinds of "scary moves", which kept me laughing so loud people in first class should have noticed. He then took of the gloves and offered them to me. I put them on and flexed my fingers. It was so much fun!!!

"Come on! Work in the kitchen!" he joked with me, since these where the kitchen gloves. I wonder if people would have eaten their food if they knew skeleton hands prepared them. I took off the gloves and gave them back.

He was so nice and such a nice sport all the time, I was off my feet. He wished me bon appetite for the lunch (which was half unsavoury) and then spoke to me as if I were a child.

"That's it? You won't eat it all?"

Little after, as the Ass-Pain father and daughter fell asleep, I stood up and walked into the kitchen for a drink. He was there and we started talking. For a moment he was called by a colleague, so I finally went to the drinks and a very nice passanger fixed me a Mimosa. I'll keep drinking mimosas from now on. We kept talking and got along quite nice. It turned out that he's Basque or however you write that in English. He was born the same year I was, 1976, but he's a May child, a Taurus. We talked loads and loads and he did all these fun questions of which I took to be "expected flirting". Even asked me if I was married, to which I answered that I would never do that, and the proceeded to explain him how the most humanitarian behavior was to share your love with as many people as possible instead of selfishly giving it to one person only. He laughed and found it fun. We kept on with some fun remarks in are real camaraderie environment. At one point he asked me if I had plans in Paris. Oh, I told him I wanted to see the city a little.

"Are you meeting someone?"
"Oh no, all by my own."
"Would it bother you if I invite you to lunch? I know a good place."
"Oh, that would be great!" I bounced.

He smiled and asked me the next question.

"What kind of food do you prefer?"

Well, I stood in silence trying to figure it out. Perhaps, if my stomach were not as revolted, I could have answered that, but honestly, I have no idea if I have a favorite cuisine. I mean, I like the French cuisine, I like the Hindu cuisine and then, of course, I'm a sucker for Hungarian ciusine, but also like Caribbean. It's not a matter of what I like, but more like what do I feel like, and right then I felt like I didn't want to eat, or perhaps only something light or something to drink. I was taking longer than it should and I tried to explain that it was a difficult question because I'm really not so food centered...

"I mean, what you like to eat, something other than men." he joked.
"Oh hell, men are not in the menu?" I followed the joke.
"There's a restaurant at the hotel..." he offered with a sassy, mischievous smile.
"There's room service..." I added.
"I think only you will be doing the eating." he said.

After that, there was no mistaking of the matter. His smile and my mind racing with "I HOOKED UP A FLIGHT ATTENDANT!!!" put all things on track. As I returned to my seat, he was on my way attending a passanger or a fellow flight attendant, so I placed my hands on his waist to move him. He turned slowly at me and growled on Spanish:

"Don't touch me... it makes me react."

He did his rounds, or whatever they do in the plane, and then came to my seat, leaned/squated and whispered close to my face:

"Gara go sleep. Will be back in an hour and a half."

Then he rubbed his nose against my lips and cheek, his mouth brushing close to mine. May I ask my dear readers if anyone could sleep after something like that? I do id my best. After that, he was back and it was casually rubbing against each other, pressing chest to chest in tight places, kissing and then some heavier frottage in a bathroom stall. His idea, not mine. I have such a high aversion to risk I would have not entered if I didn't have my exit covered. Our exit wasn't covered. One of his coworkers found out. For a moment I was worried I would be scolded, but then I thought that, honestly, I'm the client, and if they, as much, as say something, I would give them a piece of my mind about if that was a no-no, they should instruct their personal to avoid such situations. It is not my fault I took advantage of... well, such a good opportunity.

He asked me if I had an European passport, which I have, me being Hungarian, and he said that was great, since then I could exit the airport. I was surprised. I had no idea the migration laws have changed. We made arrangements to meet outside the airport, exchanged phone numbers (his number and my Hungarian number), and then we met. It was the first time my phone worked with the roaming sistem on France. If you must know, it hooked on Orange. ^_^

We met neat the 2F Terminal. He hugged me, we kissed and he called me "mi novia", as a little flattery or "pet name". Due to it's meaning (girlfriend/bride) it freaked the hell out of me, but then he explained me he meant it as a little... "kedvesség".... how do you say that? A galantry, a sweet thing, a nice nick name. The no-string-attached policy was firmly drawn at that moment. Oh, he wouldn't have it otherways either, so I was safe. He then told me that there was another flight attendant, a darker one (not really someone I would call black, but for him he is), who also thought I was pretty, and who told him that I was his fiancée. The Basque teased him that he should go and talk to me then, but the darker one wouldn't, yet warned him to stay away from me.

"He fancied me?"
"Yes." he said with a smile.
"Call him! Quickly! Let's bring him with us!"
"WHAT????"

I laughed hard. I so caught him in the joke. Yet, he took it well, as I explained him it was a joke.

As we went for the bus that would take us to the hotel, he told me he had offered me the magazines because he saw me with the French papers and he was glad to find someone who spoke French. He thought I was nice and sweet. ^_^

"What did you thought about me?"

There was no pretention in his question, but rather something closer to genuine interest and a bit of aprehension that he might be intrusive.

"I tilted my head as you turned and checked out your ass. I thought you have a great ass."

His eyes widened and I noticed, for the first time, they are green. His cheeks tensed with blush, but he did not became red.

"You checked out my ass??"
"Yeah..."

He was flabbergasted. For a good while he kept saying he couldn't believe I checked out his ass. Well, women do that. We check out asses and baskets. I'm more of an ass-checker since the groin can be deceiving.

We got to the hotel, put the room, and then it was clothes off and finding out that he has a body that looks better naked than dressed. Firm, toned, tall, perfect, hard... and, really, he's the size of Italy. I felt like the luckiest person in the world... dead and living included. It proved to be that I AM the luckiest person in the world. Great sex, jokes, and quoting of Sartre in bed. And all of this on a No-Strings-Attached basis.

Sex-Sleeping-Sex-Sleeping (he did the sleeping. I do was tired, but I only slept 30 minutes affraid of breaking my time-zone adjusting), and then he took me back to the airport, where a more relaxed me, with a goofy smile and a "I didn't see Paris, but I do climbed the Tower" pasted all over my face, got in, back thought the customs (who spotted me because they had never seen a Hungarian passport before and wanted to take their time to admire it --- really, the French are all so nice!!--), out to the gate. I made a round and ended up in a store, which I shouldn't have, and purchased a silvery charm bracelet and a scarf. Really beautiful, but I'm not supposed to be around spending money!!! Oh, it worth it big time.

Then it was off to my next flight, with Malév, where I was informed that my ticket got upgraded, and therefore I would be flying on Business Class.

"Why?"
"The system said so."

Who am I to argue with the system? ^_^ I had my wintercoat hung in the guardrobe, was offered champagne, aperitif and had my dinner served in real china china and metal cuttlery. Add to it, the flight attendant talked to me on nice Hungarian and laid out a perfect, spotless little white tablecloth on my table for my dinner. I think I want to continue flying on Business... well, taken that I do will have the chance to hook up with more Flight Attendants! ^_^

"Without Reservations", and Original Fanfic

I finished reading this book, which was quite an easy, non-challenging reading. I admit it, I was sold by the cover and the idea of gay sex and werewolves. I thought: "Oh well, I have read worse". I ignored all the one-star comments about what a lemon and a waste of time it was, how it was boooring and blah-blah-blah. I mean, come on! If you seek plot, a homoerotica book is not the best place for that. I do hoped it was not another lame "quickie"-cut story, or something worthy of being published in one of those poor-quality gay anthologies where it seem sthe only requirement to get in is blowing the editor.

One of the comments I remembered was that it was so plain and lame, that every problem was resolved in the next chapter. It does not carry much trouble from one chapter to another, but there as things that last a few, and there are very subtle issues, but not too complex, which you can decide if they were put there purposefully or if it was put there accidentally as part of the subconscious of the writer, a materializing of her own inner issues and inner world.

The basic construction of the story is that of a fanfic, or an "original fanfic", which is the name given to stories written by fanfic writers, who are not borrowing characters of their own. Then why don't just call it "an original story"? Well, because only a few fanfic writers are actually capable of writing a story as a MAIN story, rather than a SIDE story. The difference again? Main stories are complex and create a whole in theirselves, while SIDE stories are complementing stories. You can notice that by the way there's no time taken in explaining certain background stories or explaining the circumstances or the rules of the particular universe: those belong to the "main story".

Naturally, many make a style out of leaving certain thing in the air, but still, even if you are dropped in the middle of it, the STORY itself is whole: there are no loose ends and it's MEANINGFUL.

I do liked the story, all in all. It wasn't Sartre, but you can't expect to live a life out of Sartre and Lévi-Strauss. (They are counterparts, thank you. Existencialism and Structuralism.) I know a few people who would also enjoy it.

Taking a Rest

I did something yesterday I have not done so far: I rented a gay porn DVD. It was fun just seeing the face of the guy at the rental, as he paled and his eyes widened almost as if I had asked him if he knew where the church of Satan was gathering because there was a child sacrifice and I was the one with the dagas. First he muted and looked at me with his bulging eyes, and then, looking away, he stuttered that they had only one of those. So they had gay porn.

- Good - I said, - Give me that one.

He went to the tape (knew immediately where it was) and opened it for me.

- This is what I have, is that good?

I didn't even look at it. I found it funny that he offered as if they had other movies in stash.

- Yeah, sure.

I had seen one other gay porn DVD and it was BAD! The guys were ugly and had bad teeth, skin conditions, weren't in shape and where all of them badly shaven. I thought it would be the smae, but I wanted to rent something to laugh a little and something fluffy, plotless and light. The title of the DVD is "XXX DENY". The guys are actually quite well built and though half of them are very gay (queerie), and the main character has ugly teeth and makes stupid faces, it wasn't bad at all. I might say I liked it, but that was until this morning.

I watched the DVD at night, so I watched it very quietly, or on MUTE. Besides, the idea is the action, not the non-existing, embarrasingly bad plot, right? For some wicked reason, I wanted to also hear it, so today, as I was alone, I played it again, suffered the TERRIBLE Dubbing the American do to movies (really, phony, bad voices, all so fake) and then left on watching the action and taking care of other things I was doing (trying to fit my stuff into a "under 20 Kg luggage"), so I wasn't really playing attention save from the occasional "check the cocks out", when I suddenly heard something I recognized. Horrified, I looked at the TV, pushed the volume up... and the dudes fucking where dirty-talking in Hungarian!!!!! Out of automatic reaction, I shouted and stopped the film, turning to cable to calm myself. What was that? I was shocked!

I mean, I love gay dudes and I find Hungarian dirty-talking the hottest thing in the world since fresh coffee, but that was... so... disgusting... the things they said... I had to put it in mute, and watch some more before just removing it and watching something else. The DVD was shot in Hungary and the dudes were all Hungarian save from an ugly one from Ukrania.

... I think I'll just stick to regular homoerotica fiction. The bad thing about movies is that you don't get the chance to picture the hot guy, but you see the genital fungus you really don't need to see... or the three-day shaving and curved, uneven dicks.... @_@

More Shootings

Shooting at a church in Colorado and a mission training center. Really, what's going on here?

I remember when the saddening thing was hearing about murders, but like ONE person killed another, not these springs of mass shooting and crazy people. In the U.S. it seems it's no longer enough to keep yourself out of trouble and be a good citizen. If you don't go to trouble, trouble is coming to you. How can you be safe? Guns? No, I don't think so. Education, social work, social effort.

I was watching yesterday this movie from Michael Moore called SiCKO. Though I knew the thing was BAD, I was still shocked. I mean, 50 million people with no health insurance? That's bad enough, considering there are countries of less than that in population. Take Iceland: 250 thousand. Hungary: 10 million. Switzerland: 7.3 million. Austria: 8 million. Spain: 45 million.

The movie, however, is about the other 250 million people with health insurance and how they receive REJECTION letters to their treatments becauise they are too expensive. Like, they are not allowed to be cured and treated after they are paying for health?

I have been writing about these topics for a long time now, but this is the first time I see such a documentry gathered. I felt it still fell short on may matters, such as the long wiating list to which people are exposed, the endless battles, the "lost results" and stuff like that.

The end of the DVD I lent was damaged, soi I couldn't see the part about Cuba, nor if there was any other comment on this regards, but I do like to note this loud and clear: If this is a "DEVELOPED COUNTRY", do we still want to become like them? A world where life is impossible? Where people fear illnesses like they did in the medieval times? because really, soon the only health care they will be able to afford will be witchcraft. Santeros and Wiccans will become the new "rich" over there. How is it possible that in such a proud country people allow such mistreat and abuse from the authorities? They freed themselves from the Brits for this? Bad choice...

Work Abuse

I would have never thought I would be a victim of such a thing, THOUGH at the begining of this year I had been harrassed psychologically. Yesterday my boss, the boss of my boss, to me exact mistreated me psychologically. He threatened me with "undoing" my vacations, and since I have my ticket bought and I'm going, to deduce my days from my paycheck, OR claim I have unlawfully left my workplace. Uhum. Because I was born yesterday. I got mad (as if that where such a hardship for me) and yelled at him (because I'm really so scared of him). People don't yell at their bosses for fear, but disguise it as "respect". I cannot respect a motherfucker who does not respect me, and I certainly fear no boss. I fear... well... earthquakes, terrorists and custom officers, but not my bosses.

I certainly do not respect a son of a whore who has already aproved my vacations, after torturing me mentally for them, and then wishes to take them back unwilling to understand he has no right to do so just because I have been requested by a Department of Quality Evaluation, belonging to the Sub-Management (I have no idea what's the name of it, but it's right under the CEO), who bosses over the Division of which he is the third-from-the-bottom level... out of six levels. (In other words, I am not a boss and I don't want to be a boss, but yet I have skipped four levels ahead of him... and I have 4 years in the Institution, compared with his 20 years...). I was requested and my moving over is going far faster than he would have wanted it to. Add to it, for wishing to slow down the process, they have just lost a higher job profile space they could have filled at will, which was to be given in exchange of me, and now the little they have, they have no more.

Greedy, greedy little motherfucker, fuck with me and you will be the one ending up sore.

Funds or Help?

I do not collect crazy shootings but there's something that calls my attention:

April 16th, 2007: Cho Seung-Hui, Virginia Tech.
November 28th, 2007: Robert A. Hawkins, Omaha Mall.

I remember the shooting in the Amish School, and then many other crazy killings. Is it enough that we put up a statue or stablish a fund so people won't forget the killings? Shouldn't be better to aid people by reinforcing education, improving the life quality of the population ot avoid these horrors?

High Treason

... On Monday (Monday, was it) there was a meeting with Juan de Dios where Tati and Karo weren't. Juan de Dios was talking a lot of shit, you know, I guess I told you, and there was some shit about how people should grow into the job they are given. It was a bunch of disconnected thoughts from "love what you do", "if you love what you do you go where you are sent" and "well, you don't have to like it, but the world moves and you never know what you will end up doing" and somehow he said that, well, in the Division, at the begining , no one knew how to develop a service. No one, not a single person had the slightest idea about how to develop a service.

It pissed me off and I said that, well, Tati and Karo did work developing services and they knew how. He tried to skirt off saying that they had never developed the entire service, so they had no idea. Well, neither do we. We are doing what they were supposed to. I looked at Martha Gloria, who was there, adn she was nodding at Juan de Dios.

Later on, I found out that Anthony had told Tati about that word exchange and told her that Martha had done shit to defend them. When we were commenting on it, I saw her face.

Martha has committed High Treason.

Oh boy.

Corporative Bribery Was Deductible from Taxes

The issue has been sensitive for American companies because other countries, including France, Japan and Italy, only recently began prosecuting corporate bribes to foreign officials. Until a decade ago, bribes were tax deductible in many European countries.

I read that twice. I had to make sure I was reading right. Well, by know you all know that I'm currently working in the telecommunications industry. I started in this company working for one of the most corrupted of branches: mobile. And yes, in a time when the country borders wash over and the Operators with the right amount of money and connections can step over them and clutter the world with their brand, many tools are considered and used in order to secure a market slice for them to grow and pump out more money. It does sound outrageous that bribes could be "tax deductible" for "bribery" is an illegal, immoral behavior. People should not offer it, nor accept it. But this is the world we live in.

Once again, this quotation was taken from a news paper, so possibly there's an "interpretation" matter involved. For instance, perhaps it could be that the legislation makes tax deductible the donations, and as such, they do not have the mechanisms needed to make sure those donations are indeed donations, and not masked briberies. It is not a matter, necessarily, of a corrupt system, but perhaps only an old, naive legal system. It's not necessarily as it appears in the paper, though, then again, it could be so.

Now, reinforcing laws against bribery, even abroad (overseas) is not nearly enough of the Government is trying to cut down the levels of corruption spreading across the world. First of all, I find it terribly unsuiting that the U.S. would prosecute enterprises bribing governments or enterprises overseas. The U.S. should reinforce the law WITHIN the U.S. and leave the corruption happening in other countries to those other countries. The lack of moral fiber in American companies is a cultural, ethical FLAW. Prosecuting overseas misbehavior won't correct it, only force them to bribe through other methods, such as through investment, or by establishing foreign bogus enterprises in charge of giving away the bribe money. For instance, if I were an American enterprise and I wanted to bribe some foreign governments, I would establish a charity enterprise,... let's say "Child Aid" or something like in... Timbuktu or Bali, Madagascar, Antilles, or some country with no rigid laws about it (I do not know the laws in those countries, I was just naming exotic countries). I would keep cash flowing into this "bribery account" and then, when I need to make a "payment", this foundation would "help out" this given government with a "donation to aid children". Now, I'm not actively working on fraud or anything, so if I can think of this, what could come up with the enterprises actually interested in bribing? Pushing this overseas, the prosecution, I believe is nothing but an invasive intervention of the laws of other countries.

Lets take the case of the sportbidding. Gambling is illegal in the US. Well, Internet gambling. So these enterprises went overseas and established their companies outside, (Sportbooks), the employ people from these countries to do something it is not illegal in their country, and then, suddenly, the American Government falls on them because there are American's putting their money in these overseas based enterprises' sites. In a day, 5000 people was out in the street, jobless, not understanding what has happened, and then, some where even arrested, shipped to the U.S. and prosecuted as criminals for something is not illegal for them. It's not like they didn't know it was illegal (in which case they can't plead not knowing the law), but it's not illegal for them. It's almost as if an Arab men were deported to the U.S. and prosecuted because he married two women after he had married and American, converted woman who lives with him in ... some Jordania, BUT she e-mails to her folks in... Virginia. Or as if an American man were deported to... I dunno, Syria and prosecuted because he's gay and got together with a Syrian man.

It's fine and nice to be concerned about the world outside our boundaries, BUT trespassing those boundaries is not wise. With help, yes, with counseling, diplomacy, yes, but the Law should always remain within the limits of the country for we never know on which sensibilities one might be stepping.

I hope the U.S. Goverment stars practicing a bit of introspection, humbleness before more aggression and danger comes upon the world. I think we have already enough anger and war. It's time to work on peace, trust and understanding.

Lost of Trust on the Media

Open up the e-mail news sent by CNN and you will find an article regarding the case of Megan Meier, the teen girl who hung herself in the closet because a phony boy told her that the world would be a better place without her. Perhaps, if you check my last entry on the subject (it was some days ago), you'll see I quote the New York Times (I remember because I misspelled it "New Jerk"), where "Josh Evans" was a product of Lori Drew's imagination. Something like her very own "Harry Potter" (save the wizardry), who would do her work at avenging Megan's mean behavior against her daughter. There was a whole unfolding about the bittered up relationships between the Meiers and the Drews, something like a Montescue and Capulet family rivalry going on.

Today the CNN talks of this matter and now Josh is no longer Ms. Drew's but something like a collective character, who's password went from hand to hand through a number of people who toyed with Megan. It speaks of several teens mistreating her through the façade of Josh, and an 18-year-old woman typing the deadly words "the world would be a better place without you". There's also some other information (the Spirit of Rugby knows where the paper got it) that gives a new light to the role of her parents in the fight. And I quote:

When Megan's mother returned home, she found her daughter crying at the computer. After reading the messages, she criticized her daughter for using inappropriate language, Banas said.

Telling her mom that "I can't believe you're not on my side," Megan ran upstairs and hanged herself, Banas said.

How does the Prosecuting Attorney, Mr. Jack Banas knows that? Then, how can the Meiers blame the Drews when they themselves didn't help their kid?

But this is not today's topic. Today's topic is the need for "sensationalism" in the media. It seems is no longer the accuracy of the information what matters, but the scandal in it, the impact in the reader. Matters such as the dropping employment rates, the eroding fo the wages, the ever growing levels of poverty world wide, the corruption in the Government and other power entities. Hunger is not as striking as Britney Spears' bald head or a crying Lindsay Lohan. Who cares for the debate over the war budget? So what if it has rose disproportionally in the past years when you can either be clicking at Paris Hilton in jail? Now, what's the truth about such a puntual, small matter as Megan Meier. Not like the suicide of a teen is dismisable, but fuck it, compare it for a moment with the teens and preteens KILLED in war? Pulled into suicide bomb missions, starved to death, worked to the bone, forced into prostitution. What's the death of some personality challenged teen compared with the kidnapped kids sold out as slaves for pedophiles, for child pornography and child prostitution? Well, all that is sad, but it's not "sensational", and therefore it's not "selling". Besides, such things can be counterproductive because maybe some smuckety-smuck has a Mongolian child chained to a cage in the basement for his or her own amusement.

Then again, if the elections come, papers rub their hands together because then everything is about the newest gay senator or lawmaker. Who has the dirtiest, most illicit-sex-stained file. Mark Foley, Larry Craig... who else is there to trash? I am not a Republican, the Spirit of Rugby forbids! but I find it utterly distasteful to attack people based on such superficial, personal matters instead of targetting political positions, decisions, work capabilities and such. Sure Mr. Foley did wrong by targeting teens as his potential sexual partners, even if he never did anything actually physical with them (though then again, if he wasn't having sex with them, and the guys gave their consent, I really don't see the harm. No pictures asked, no actual sex, just flirting... these kids already do that with their peers). Sen. Craig... really, how can anyone really say he was cruising? Okay, he plaid guilty and that makes him look guilty. Yeah, I notice the cynism in it. He wasn't even soliciting, if that was his intention. These men weren't underage, so what was the harm of it? Two consenting adults.

BUT it's sex, it's gay, it's "in the closet", it's forbiden, it's dirty and brought forward. The media wolfs on the unprotected vulnerable victim, leaving behind nothing from a defiled carcass, reducing human to a bundle of shame that will have to seek live under a rock in order to escape the stigma. No it's not a matter of them seeking out this, it's a matter of the media taking on meaningless weak points, human features that make these men HUMAN, and exploit them, make them everybody's business, debase them meanwhile ignoring the facts that, not that extraordinay and catchy, do affect the lives of many.

Yes, the truth is inconvenient, but more than that, it's boring, and boring doesn't sell. How in the fucking HELL can be two versions (if not more) so different from a same fact? No investigative reporting. Nobody really cares for the truth, because truth is nobody really cares for the death of Megan Meier. Megan is just a bone to get the juiciest story regardless of how real or not it is. People will after chose which version they like the best and declare it "truth". And the colapsing markets? The housing problems in New Orléans? So the poor "niggaz" who survived the flood can't rent a place where they used to live because no one can pay those prices. Well, they are poor or black, so who cares? Send them to Mexico, after all, the US is getting all the "excedent people" from the Mexican's right? Let's have the Cajuns and Sin Citizens populate Juarez, León and other places down there, right? They are not Hillary Duff, so who cares about them? The Government doesn't so why should the press?

This is the world in which we live today, and I'm deeply ashamed and disappointed on it.

The Fine Art of Not Being Informed

When you don't know something SHUT THE FUCK UP! It's a very, very wise advise, you see, one people should try to follow more often. Not like they will, but they should. This is particularly true for certain hierarchy levels in certain organizations. I happen to know one for which it would apply wonderfully. Then again, if these people would to keep their TRAP shut when they have no idea whatsoever, they would never open their mouths. Not like that would be a loss at any rate. The world would certainly be a better place.

In a place like this, everything runs around in the form of rumors. Some are true, some are false and it's hard to make them apart. Truth is also, that in here the Superior Levels are subject to violent mood swings and with them, whimsical changes of mind. so, indeed, only because some rumour never saw the light, it doesn't mean it was fake. Just like they change their minds on daily basis about the priority of services to develop, they also change their minds constantly about the fate of the departments and the enterprise's general organization. We have been hearing for a while about a major reorganization coming for next year, which is certainly "troubling" or at least a very bad sign, since the last reorganization was done last year. As in December of last year. So, a year into the "genius" of e-Tom has proved to be a fucked up move. Well all knew that, specially when the whole fuck was more about giving promotions and taking status from handpicked people. There was a BIG display of advertizing effort to sell the idea to people, which of course no one bought, since, really, people ain't that stupid. So, now they have to bicker back.

Then, what happened today?

07:00 hrs> JDCD summons us to the Meeting Room 1. Funny, he had to come twice to finally get us moving. Talk about a boss with no leadership whatsoever, who doesn't even have what it takes to command the respect of his peers or subalterns. We all dragged ourselves there to hear the "important news". *rolls her eyes*

1. The Division Party will be moved to this Friday, for those of us who wish to attend. No one wants to go. We said so from the very beginning.
2. The Director (Adolfo Arias) is very pleased with the results of the Division, therefore we will continue working, since we are really so good, and have been working so well. Well, thre bosses, in their infinite wisdom, had to explain AA what are we to do, so the Network Area will be removed, so we are no longer measured for the Network part, but for the development. Honestly, what the FUCK have we been advancing? Have done more useless chronograms than any other division? Fuck it. All our work has been either stopped or fucked up by the bosses themselves, so no come to me no shit fucking here about how fucking well we are doing because I know better, motherfucker, and I can tell you, no fucking SHIT has been done in a whole fucking year. And whatever sits on your fucking desk is as useless as a toothpic for newborns.
3. Is it true that we are going to be sent to Forum? The boss' answer: can't say yes, can't say no... blah blah blah blah...

Here comes a really shitty speech about how you have to love what you do, oddly spiced with the saying: "If you wait for the job you want, you will never work", AND if we really love our work it won't matter where we have to go to do it. Because he remembers he started in "building maintenance", not like us, already in nice, "upper class" positions... My mind drifted away thiking:

"So, this is another useless fuck who started as a cleaning ass who climbed up to a position he can't posses for his mind remained as that of a 'fix-it-ass'. That explains, of course, why is he so utterly stupid."

Sure, people can improve in their lives, BUT climbing positions require to also climb in your thinking, in your attitude, your education and your understanding. However, in here, where people climb through friends, they never get the proper rubbing, the accurate polishing of the character in order to fill a position fully, in all that it involves. I have known people who have come from low positions, that have grown and groomed into higher positions. Sadly, all those are in the BPDC. Guido Ovares filled his positions pretty well, and well, Rodolfo Brenes is the star in my heart, a man who has known how to make himself an raise from a very humble position to a magnificent Management post in which his hold, his pose is so natural, so becoming, so disarming and undisputed as if he had been born there. His charm, his charisma, his natural leadership has been forged through the years.

That's culture, that's effort, that's a man on his making. I admire him and look up to him. That's what a leader, a boss, a Manager should be. Not these... rotten attempts at leadership.

A Fucking Waste of Time

Short, because I just want to state it and I won't refer much to it.

§ Dear HHRR,

Please, PLEASE! The next time you put up a conference, make sure the people you invite ACTUALLY know and understand what they are going to listen to. It's disturbung to expect a conference about new technologies and find out it's about Administration 101.

§ Dear Boss,

If you have not idea what to do with me, let me go. There's people out there who want me, but don't keep me so you can add a unit to your "bulk of people" under "your command". I know I can't expect less of any of your homologues and up, because, really, becoming a boss in our Institution basically means that you have sucked COCK or at least got some up your ASS. The things that make a boss in our Enterprise are:

1. A dirty background
2. The ultimate lack of brains
3. An uncanny talent for lying and blaming others
4. A heck of a talent at sucking up to your superiors
5. The willingness to behave like a whore for your superiors
6. Chronicall allergy to "Reality" and "Truth".

So, there you go. However, I do not need to put up with it, so I'm leaving. Now let me go when I'm requested from you!

I went shopping today with my folks for groceries. Dad says we spend more when I'm with them. Well, Mom doesn't stop me when I pick up a few "up grade" stuff. I've got also a few groceries for the office. Powdered skimmed milk, chocolate, cocoa powder and sesame seed snacks. (I have Reese Bites!)

... Something funny: I can't see any Reese chocolates without thinking of Reese Jordan, my character from that novel currently known only as Callem&Reese. Fuck, I still have to give that novel a title. Titles can be so hard to manage.

Priceless BIG Contradiction

Grab your CCN daily e-mail (if you have one) and read this article where President Bush says, and I quote:

When asked whether the peace process can overcome opposition from Hamas, Bush said "the best way to defeat those terrorists and radicals ... is through a vision based upon liberty."

"Ultimately, if this can be done, if the state can be laid out -- what the state should look like -- then it gives people like President Abbas the chance to go to the Palestinians and say, 'You can have their vision of violence or this vision of peace, take your pick.' "

"America can't impose our vision on the two parties," Bush said.

"If that happens, then there's not going to be a deal that will last."

The title of the article reads: "U.S. cannot impose vision of peace on Mideast, Bush says." Then what have you been doing there since 2001? No, no country can or has teh right to impose anything on another country, but what has your country been doing? You've got a president killed, that either good or bad, it was not your problem to solve, no matter how you wish to approach the issue. So, you keep demanding billions of dollars for warfare, cutting social spending, pushing for an ongoing war no one wants anymore... and now you come and say, admit if you like, that the U.S. can't impose their vision on another country? Tell us all, I pray, then what for was all that money?

Teenie-Hoax

Okay, I had my news-comment of the day, but here we go, I find yet another thing about which say a thing or two. (This will most likely also go into an entry in Locky the Bunny, as a lot of people with that mentality stumbles around it.) Still scrolling down the New York Times (^_^ I just mispelled it New Jerk. hihihi) I saw this article titled "A Hoax Turned Fatal Draws Anger". Well, I thought it was about something in politics, so I merrily sauntered into the article, when what do I see? but it's about some stupid teen girl who killed herself because some fake guy in the internet told her he hated her. The girl, 13, got a boyfriend, a character created by a 47 year old neighbour woman, who most likely thought of herself as Malcom's Mom, so she "avenged" her daugher after this other teen told her that they would not be friends anymore. The girl and the fake guy flirted and then the guy became mean and, after being massively attacked through the blog of the boy, she decided to hung up herself in her closet. People is mad at the woman who created the guy and want to burn her alive, so to speak. The parents of the suicidal girl threw a temper tantrum. Everybody has opinions and they are all heated about it. Now, lets clear up some things:

1. Indeed, a MOM has SHIT to do in "avenging" her kids' social life. If the girl broke her friendship with her daughter, her daughter should take the chance to deal how to deal with situations and people like that. When a friendship is broken, trust me, in any case is better broken. I have broken friendships myself, either because we no longer have common topics, or because I consider the other person or the group to be toxic. Happens all the time. Now if she felt like she wanted to give the girl a taste of her own soup, well, that's much her problem.

2. Everybody knows there are bogus people in the Internet. It happens. People create them to protect their own identities, and well, for a miriad of other reasons that concerns only to them. You can't blame this woman for creating a character and playing it according to what she feels. Everybody has the right to do so, and so does she. If the girl put her hopes on this character, much her problem. She should have grown up.

3. I have not heard that this character had forced the girl to commit suicide. If she did, it's her fault, the teens, and if you want to blame someone else, blame the parents for not coaching her properly. She was a desperate attention seeker, from what I gather, who exposed herself to rejection and/or ill attention. It was her who decided to end up her life. It was here to did it. It was not the character, nor the woman behind it. In any case, the parents should think about what kind of environment they created where their disturbed daughter prefered death to crying her heart out to them.

It's easy to blame others, but it's hard to shoulder our own mistakes, right? The teen years are not easy, and the parents should think about what they did when, knowing they had a kid who depended so much on the acceptance of others, who talked about suicide, they let it happen. Did they spent more time with their kid? Quality-time? Or sending her to the shrink was considered enough and "good parenting"? Why the kid turned to the belt and the closet instead of mom and dad? Why did she let her affect her so much? What kind of support, self-assurance she had? Did mom and dad where there everyday talking to her about how beautiful her eyes where and how she was a pretty person insider, how life has many changes, many tasks and tests that makes us better people? Did they teach her how to take criticism, that she should not mind ill words that she knew fake because what matters is what she feels, what she believes and the worth she gives to herself?

Yeah, yeah, burn the immature neighbour mom, who seems to be an aging woman stuck in teen-years, a raging person or a psychopat, but she did nothing. If it would have been not the fake character, it could have been someone else. The teen was unbalanced and set to defuse any time. So, should you stone the real kid, a real teen who would have found her clingy or hypocritical and actually say it in her face, fight with her and then have all his friends bitch at her? The boy was a bogus, but the situation was as real as any she could have run into, and evidently she had the inclination to overdramatize everything.

I have no part in this, but I stand with Ms. Lori Drew, even if I think she should do a little bit of growing and giving her kids in adoption to people who know how to be parents. Ms Lori is responsible of NOTHING regarding the death of that kid. You are pointing fingers at the wrong parents.

Here comes again Clichy-sous-Bois!

It's not a matter of "not enough promises". No, it's not that. It has never been that. Politics don't understand that keeping the people satisfied, happy and peaceful isn't like keeping a cyberpet, where you just press a button and they are automatically "happy" or "employed" or "well behaved". A country is not a big "tamagochi population". It seems M. Nicholas Sarkozy don't get that quite well. The riot at Clichy-sous-Bois exploded when HE was the Interior Security Minister (Law-and-Order Interior Minister according to the New York Times) and his answer to the crisis was to order curfews. Yes, keep them locked at home, then fill their ears with empty promises and let them go. Sure they are gonna behave.

For some whatever-bonker-manuever or massive-brainwashing or whatever that escapes my reason, the French people elected him as president. Like they say in Costa Rica: "que nos agarren confesados" ("may they catch us confessed"), and what kind of things he proposes? Well, what about reducing the amount of inmigrants? Tighten up the borders, go US-like. And solutions? Noooo! As a matter of fact, lets fuck up the pro-worker employment system so that more people can be fired! Fuck up schedules, fuck up wages, fuck up job stability. Who needs them anyhow? What's the purpose of this dude? Get some "national beggers" to balance out all the African beggers?

Clichy-sous-Bois was an unresolved matter, and it was about time it would explode again. I'm going home in two and a half weeks and I'll be in Paris (a programmed stop of mine so often it's already a habit) on the 17th for the whole day (basically) and the the night between Jan. 2nd and 3rd. Can I expect to find myself in a rumble like that? Then again, in 2005 I was there, at night, for New Year, streets full of GORGEOUS French "Gendarmes" and nothing bad happened. (Only the unclean thoughts in my head ^_^)

I can understand that there might be a problem of "funds" to face the problems presented by this less-fortunate area, but cutting back on taxes and pushing prices down is not the best thing to do when you have to help out a country. You can't lower the influx of money into the National Treasury at the beginning of the period, when you have to back up your word, when you have so many things to do, so much to attend. But then again, this man evidently is only interested in the sense of Power he can gather for himself. Frenchs might have fucked it up in many things, might have lost the Rugby World Cup pathetically, BUT electing this clown was the worse thing they could have come up with.

I'm not in France, I'm not French and I have no connection whatsoever with the people from the banlieues, but I do believe that, if they are not satisfied now, unless the banlieues get "leveled" to the ground, people and buildings alike, then this is gona keep raising and raising until the people, police, youth and innocent civilians lose more than just an eye. This is not te time for words and politics, but for money, budget and smart spending in housing, education and jobs.

ways to talk about

I can't stop thinking, wondering about the way we keep leading our lives. So what is, in the end what pushes people through the maze of the days? If life is so tiresome and such a nightmare, why is people so afraid of dying? Oh, worry not, they are just some errand thoughts coming to me in the begining of the day. Nothing serious, but yes... branding. I have no idea if I had mentioned this earlier, though soon you will be filled to the brim with past notes and entries to prove what I'll repeat for the n-th time: I'm an amateur writer. The idea of what pulls and pushes people around life intrigues me to the point of trying out several ideas, and these ideas become stories. I am not a poet (or shall I say poetess?), but I do have written a couple of verses in my life. They don't rhyme because I such big time at doing that, buut sometimes I feel like I have to compose a poems. It's a strange compulsion for I normally hate poetry. I believe I have only liked Edgar Allan Poe, Mihail Lermontov and from time to time I find a Hungarian poet who gets to me, but otherwise, I dislike poetry. Compared with the endless, absorbing, extense prose, poetry strikes me like a limited form of expression that cuts chances and freedom into a set of rules only prose can break free.

Yes, yes, yes, poetry is free and there's art in expressing through it. It's heightened and beautiful and blah, blah, blah, blah... I have always had the feeling that poetry has been forged to hide what you wish to say, use too little words to hint about too big issues, while prose use too little, too many or the exact amount, whatever you wish. Prose is so free it can SHOUT and fight and ... recoil and cry and load down onto you a whole psyche, or keep it together, closed and unreachable. I have no idea if a poet has ever broken into prose... I self declared poet, but prose writers do have... I have. I disregard metrics and rhymes, leghts or verse lenghts. The rhythm of my poems exist only in my head. I have normally written poetry for people in particular, but last year, I was held up into poetry for myself, for my inner issues and my inner space. The night of Halloween of last year, I was invaded in my head by a poem that started chanting inside me as I walked home, which I had to rush to write down. It was an intense experience, as it was night with a bright full moon hanging on the sky surrounded by an irregular cloud lace ringing it like a heavy cape or a royal, expensive furred hood around the bright, perfectly haloed head. It was one of those nights when you want to stay out staring alone at the moon and drink it up through your eyes.

No picture could ever capture the chilling beauty of nights like that, where the air itself gives so much to the moment. This Halloween night brought me memories of Henrik, which is why I heard my mind, and perhaps also my soul, shush these verses:

Love does not end
With the arrival of Death.
Truth is a Concept
That lives only in your Mind.

Facts don't prove
Anything.
"Love" is a word that
Can be said with an empty Heart.

The poem goes on pretty much in this same line for several more verses until they just run along formless and structure less. I'm a sad poet. Not like I'm much chirper as a writer, but indeed, as a poet, not only I'm a disaster, completely talentless, but also quite... sad and disturbing.

There's some kind of "paper" here at the office, some old reminiscence from the days the enterprise was sectioned into like five different areas according to the services offered: International (calls), Enterprises (corporative services), Mobile (duh), Landlines and Payphones. (In case you have not guessed it by now, I work at a Telcos.) Well, I came to work at the mobile section (then called something as utterly useless and stupid as "business strategic unit". Hahahahaha! The only business there was the "shady" kind, the strategy was the LACK of it and there was no unit or unity, for that matter, whatsoever.) at first, when I entered the enterprise. There they had this very stupid little paper... bigger in size than any of the national papers, composed on one, max two sheets of color printed paper. The idea behind this waste of good paper and vegetal life was to "share" the life and everdays and little details of the coworkers so we all get to know each other and work as a family. Fuck it. The place was filled with rivalry, office-gangs and little, closed groups far worse than anything you have ever seen in any schooldrama movie. Okay, granted, ain't as bad as what you hear from the ghetto schools, or schools in any poverty striken location, BUT that's because people here os well paid and really, no one needs to carry around guns when all they need here are connections, ill will and a gossip net reaching everywhere. The paper, so, became a forum to pose and get some spotlight. Get a cover, a central fold, a page-long "report" with a flattering picture and then boas about how you get "in the paper". P-Lease. Get. A. Life. But people here is just like that.

At one point, I was working right across the editor of the "paper". She was posting adds for people to send over their "thoughts" (a primitive and unevolved form of "literature" where people write a few lines about something they believe to be "wise". uhhhh...) and poetry. She asked my friend Jetty because she knew Jetty wrote poetry. Ô_Ô She's pretty much an epic/epic-fantastic poet, rather than me, a much more "romantic" kind of poet. Jetty told her that I wrote poetry as well (forgot to mention that mostly in English), so she asked me if I had anything to publish. I had already sent a poem in Spanish to some contest in Spain, and I was working on some others just to shake the vibe off my bones. I thought in sending her one a little "upcut" and not-very-acceptable. Ended up editing it to hide it's gay content, and yet, the editor turned it back to me because it was too "sophisticated" for the general audience. So, a talentless, uninterested, halfassed poet like me is "too sophisticated" for the paper's audience? The paper's audience was the Enterprise!!!! Was I to believe that no one, from the engineers and tellers to the CEO was literate enough to read something like that? Geez man! But I'm BAD!!! Okay, granted, I have witnessed really crappy work that gets published, BUT still, there's no merit in comparing with the lower band, but only to the upper bar. Yes, there will be always someone shittier than you, many in fact, but the evolving, the improvement, the progress comes from looking up to those who run ahead of us. Well, that in case I would like to pursue the poetry, which I do not.

Searching my folders, I have found a poem I had no idea I have written. Has a lot of hints, like poetry does, but I kinda like it.

Choice

If I ever were given the Choice
I would eternally stay at your side.
It has been next to you where I learned
About loving so deeply that pain was no longer an issue.

At your side I’ve found everything
I would ever need to be complete
Because there will never be
State of Mind, State of Soul,
That could ever overcome
The absolute sense of Being
I revel in since I’ve said openly
That I love you above anyone.

I mind no gender anymore.
I mind no bloodlines.
I mind no consanguinity.
No conventions.

I’m above Conventions…
And law and society and “what would they say”.
Because no one could say anything more that:
Lo there someone who has found happiness
With the One who owns its beating heart.

You own my beating heart.

Unlike you would think, NO, I am not into someone of my family, of the same gender or otherwise. I guess I worte this in a moment I was deep-caught in an incestuous story, which happens or happened often with teh requests I got. Yes, I have been a writer-by-demand. For free, you mind. It's impressive all you can find in the Internet. I wonder if you could do a business like that: set a site where people can request specific stories and people write them for a price. I guess it would be worth trying. Too bad I'm a slowpoke writer. Would have to start testing for free, kinda like a "pilot" before jumping into the paid business. Not poetry, of course, but real writing, prose, for which I do have some talent. Or so I say, and so far no one has ever proved me wrong or told me otherwise in my face.

I'll se about it. I'll let you know what have I decided.

Last Minutes Notes Before Fleeing the Office

Dear Snyegi,

I couldn't help this one. ^_^ I had to have you there. Someday, hopefully I'll grow out of it.

I have been moving a few of my entries from Locky The Bunny to You. I'm not entirely pleased with the way they look, mostly because of the changes they are subject due to the fact that I have to copy-paste some stuff I had to put on tables to be able to embed pictures into the text. (My attempt to emulate your natural form into a livejournal format.)

Time is running short. I have to close all windows and get ready to go home soon, too soon, very soon.

I have not really written into my lj, but rather posted the fic I prepared as gift for a Venezuelan friend of mine. I'm not sure if that will be my last post, but it certainly will be my last fic. I checked my "friendlist"... what a bunch of loosers. I want to distanciate myself fast from them. I still get close to Buranaberry, my Hópike, but I want nothing with Lee Jordan. I'm nauseated by what surrounds it. I have to rescue my main entries as soon as I can.

I love this: one date, even if we have several entries the same day. It's like organization: everything falling into place. I'm loving this more and more by the minute.

So, about the "Moving In", What Happened with that?

I swear, I have these entries I MUST save here, and now I know how... but I have been lazy to do it. There are a few, particularly my entries regarding comments on news and stuff that I wish to safekeep, but somehow I never get to do it.

First time not greeting you as if I were addressing a letter to you. I have to leave behind this "Anne Frank" complex, "Dear Kitty", though for me, always, you will be my Snyegi.

I'll be back later (I hope) with more.

What You Say

Dear Snyegi,

Perhaps one of these days I'll stop addressing you and I'll just start writing. I've been thinking about that: How much should you leave in the past in order to evolve? Where do we wish to evolve? How do we wish to do so? What's our goal, our ultimate purpose in evolving? Other than our human nature moved around with the only wish to avoid boredom. I think about how much I would like to go to eat at Subway right now, but given the current condition of my cards, I would say that's not so wise. It's the payback for "reckless shopping". Somehow, "shopping" is one of those sins or crimes that have an "instant karma" mechanism embedded into it. Of course, if you ignore that instant karma thing, then the karma swings back with much more force: DEBT. That one is BAD.


I'm starting to love you. Im fact, I do. ^_^ I love the fact also that you are entirely mine. Mine, mine, mine. ^_^ I love this... secrecy, this vers private thing going on between us. A few know your address, and I'll keep it so. I don't want anyone to find you, read you, judge you. You are... just mine. ^_^ Odd, I would not really define myself as a possessive person (though I'm stubborn and I hold up to my ideals and my commitments -- loyal only to God and my Ideals, you mind, for I pay no loyalty to peers. People are shifting, therefore they cannot have my loyalty.), and as I say that you are "mine" I don't mean it in a possessive way, but more in a "bonding" sense. Well, "bonding" isn't either the world. I mean it... in the way that... you will keep me for myself. You see, I know you can speak all you want and tell people all the things you want, it doesn't dent WHO you are, but from time to time there are things, things that relate only to you, or perhaps you and someone else, that have to be kept that way. If you tell them to everybody, as the information and the knowledge gets transformed with the sharing, you would lose yourself. You, are a cyber part of me, are the kind of secluded storage that would allow these bits of me, well some of them, to be kept uncorrupted, untouched, unchanged. So, in this sense, you are mine.

Something happened yesterday. At a meeting of WiMax I mentioned to this chick, Sughey, from the Network and System Technical Directions, that I wanted to know what the hell was the deal with WiMax, since I was under the understanding that it was no longer a priority. I wasn't aware that she would call all the Big Bosses and Big Kahunas and tell them. Twenty minutes later my boss called me at my mobile and asked me if I said that WiMax was no longer a priority for the Service Division. Well, I told him that HE told me it was no longer a priority. At first, he sounded like he wanted to scold me, buut little by little it went from "I'll see the way to blame you" to "I really didn't say that, so now we have to 'unsay' what you say". I was a bit upset at the double speech. Perhaps I wasn't told that it was no longer a priority in those precise words, BUT when you are said: "Stop WiMax, leave it for later because now VoIP is a priority"... well, it MEANS that WiMax stopped being a priority. Plain and simple as that. he did admitted saying that WiMax was to put back for later, BUT that THAT doesn't mean that it's no longer a priority. Okay, I'm lost: so when something that IS a priority is put on hold to give room to a new priority, THEN what that first priority becomes? Because that's the same way Roaming and Roaming GPRS followed. And Roaming was a MEGA Priority. In any case, IU think my boss got scolded very bad, and so todays he was a little bit distant with me. *shrugs her shoulders* Well, it ain't my fault that he's such a chicken that he won't bounce it back to HIS bosses, who had ultimately gone through with moving the priority.

The problem here is that people fear the bosses, or are targeting to their influence and so they rather present themselves a sycophants than just pointing fingers and say: Don't lie, YOU said that WiMax was no longer a priority. Or plain and simply tell them: Just how in the FUCKING HELL you expect us to keep up seven priority projects, have fees ready in three weeks with only ONE person working on Fees? But they have no balls to tell people, bosses specially. Fuck, how can they stay so inoperant? How can they live with themselves like that??? We will see how this progresses on, but, truth to be told, I was expecting, I get the chance to talk to the big Kahunas, because if I'm given the chance, I'll tell them the things in their faces. They don't impress me, and naturally they don't scare me. Idiots never do.

Love,

Buranaberry