The Last Entry of the Year... I think

Well, this is 2008's last entry... unless something unexpected happens. I'm at the Mammut shopping center because I wanted to have my glasses straightened up, get them a new, flat case and see if I can get myself a pair of contacts. I've been thinking that MAYBE the brand I have at home are flawed. You know, stuff sent to Latin America is prone to be toxic, flawed, misshapen, because, all thise "wetback" "beaners" should start dying of something, or because they are so infrahuman, they can take what humans can. Oh, that ain't no criticizim, only simple observation after things like poisoned shampoo and food being sold to us because our regulation can be bought into accepting things the FDA forbids, or like because you can donate to our governments asphalt for roads mixed with radioactive waste, so you don't have to deal with getting rid of it properly, and stuff like that. No criticizim, but mere observation. A lovely melon coloured Cosmopolitan keeps me company. Today's waiter is a very lovely waitress. The dessert chosen blindly is a Mauro cake with nut icecream and whipped cream. It's beyonf hideous. Ain't like it has no taste, but instead has the most terrible taste ever invented by mankind. The berries with it make it only worse. They are a kind of cherry, but more acid, which us Hungarians call "meggy".

Truth to be told, I come only to use the wireless and stare at the absolutely hot guys that run around or sit at the tables, but since I can do that for free and it wouldn't be well seen, I order some hineous concoction and pray not to day from the taste. Why can't they just offer you some mákos palacsinta??? It's beyond me. Okay, I could have ordered sushi... damned. Then again, sushi with French fries???? These people are out of their minds.

The party at Gitta's is under planning. I must be at their place at 19:30, which gives me only a little time here to write, wish everybody a Happy New Year and be on my way, change, do make up and so on.

In summary, this has been a very nice year. I have had my "lost battles", though I can say I have pulled profit from everything. My head has a bunch of new ideas for stories.

Hell, I know what I asked for. This is not the Mauro cake, but the poppy-seed pudding! No wonder it tasted like soil! I actually like the taste, but this doesn't go well, with the pudding. What was I thinking? Probably only to get something done so I can use the Internet. Funny, I start to like the pudding. Maybe the small amounts of opium in the poppyy seeds start to pile up and after a few spoonfuls of the concoction, it starts tasting good.

The trip to Gödöllő will be left for Friday or maybe Saturday. I still have to make sure I can get to the Optic Store, get all the presents I still have to get, get a HUMONGUS bag for me to make my plan work to get away with murder and carry more than the alleged 30 Kg of luggage, which I have already surpasses, I may add.

I'm off. Have a good 2009!

Győr

News upset me, so I won't talk about the news. All the papers are filled with stuff about the Israelies and Gaza and ... give me a break. You know, I start to think that people should stop paying attention to them. Maybe they will stop if no one listens, because no matter how much people disapprove them, they keep going at it on and on and on. What's the story with this people? I don't care and I don't want to care either. They have a fight and go killing each other. Flash news, Sweetheart! People do that everywhere. Sure, it's bad that people kill themselves, and war is always a very bad thing, BUT when they are on and on for years rolling over the same topic, you either do something effective or just let them... kill themselves. Look, you can't do anything to help them if they are not willing to get help, so why would you waste time worrying?

So no news in this segment. Not today, thank you.

Nor will I refer to this problematic fag I know who has more issues with his mind and his emotional life than the global economy. Funnily, he ACTUALLY expects the world to bail him out of his troubles! Anyway, I hope he has finally realized he has no business with me and decides to permanently retrieve his toxic presence (because he has no personality) from my sight.

You may wonder about the picture I put, where I pose AGAIN before a set of bars. Well, today my aunt, my uncle and Anikó, our friend, and I went to Győr, a beautiful small city close to the border with Slovaquia and Austria.

Győr is incredibly small, and what makes it even more amazing is that even though its reduced size, it has such opulent and luxurious buildings as if it where another capital city. Notoriously I took only a few pictures, yet all the more were consagrated to taking pictures of a group of ducks smilling in the Rába river. Why would I take pictures of some ducks in a river? Am I planning to order them for dinner or something? Well, no, only I have never really seen such "picture like" ducks in my life. Our ducks in Costa Rica are plain gray or brown. Just some bird with flat feet and rounded beak. These ducks were something else. Like the ones you see in cartoons. So I devoted a healthy amount of shots to these lovely swimming dinners. Hey, I like to see them, I like to eat them. Live with it. I love these green headed beauties. Would never keep them at home, but I sure like to look at them... and eat them.

Then again, my diet lately has been generously dosed with stag meat. I love to eat stag! I guess I'll have to gear up with a bow and arrows when I get back to Costa Rica, and head to some wood area in order to go hunt my favored meal. Or may I be able to request stag at a restaurant? I think the bigger the animal, the stronger, the more I like it. Shit. I like my meat like my men: big, strong and ready to fight... and handsome, stylish, fast, and then so slender it's slightly femenine, yet with a few curves in the right places. Hn. I think I would love to eat horse too. Evidently I already like them horny, it's time to find out if I like them hung like a horse too. ^_^

Due to the time, there wasn't much to say, much to visit, and it was freezing like a son-of-a-bitch. We had a good conversation, though, Anikó and I, and a glass of warm wine. I burned my tongue, though... :-P Anikó took some pictures of me, for which I posed in such a fashion that I'll look slender than what I really am. After all, who can remain slender with all the awesome food you have around here??? I believe the next time a guy asks me what kind of food I like, I'll confidently say: "Hungarian". There's no better food in the world than Hungarian food.

Tomorrow I promised to visit my Grandpa, and at some time I'm supposed to go to Gödöllő and then be back before 19:30, because THEN I'll go to Gitta's and from there to the New Year's party at this pub near the Deák Tér... which is so cool! Party until 4 am! There will be 6 kg of bread and 3 kg of sausage cream and chilli&fish cream. Yes, I'll take pictures to record this feast of booze and food... and the people downing it all. Wonder if I should cooperate with something, like 2 Kg of pork lard and 4 Kg of bread.

This year seems so exciting!

Change of plans in the last minute

So I was going to go to Sofia today. With a sleeping wagon and the whole shebang. Then, in the morning, Jules called me and told me that the railroad workers were going to go on strike from Januar 1st on. O_O Holy Hell! I'm so not going to get stuck in Bulgaria! We called the railroad call center to ask about what would happen, or if the train would at least drop me on the border, from where I could take a bus home, but the girl knew nothing. She even said she wasn't aware of when the train-strike was going to start. Was it just some gossip? Was it real? I'm not risking it. I called the hotel and cancelled the reservation, and now, after lunch I'm going to return my ticket, get back my 32 thousand forints (multiply by 2.64 to get colones), and call it the day.

I won't lie to you, I'm extremely disappointed that my trip got so fucked up. I though about going next year, but I have already planned my trip for next year: I'm going to Venice. Kinda upsetting also, because I really thought God and I had an agreement, BUT I rather don't meddle into his stuff, and let him work according to the "greater picture" he has. Currently I'm grumbling really upset and I tip my head towards him and say: "Hope you don't pull one of these with the Thesis!". No, that's not the way you talk to God, but right now I'm upset my plans went donw the gutter. At the same time I'm a bit relieved. I think God has decided to help me with my finances and this is a way to cut back a little my expenses. As a matter of fact, Good Thinking, God!

As for when am I going to visit Sofia... I have no idea. Maybe in 2010, and then, I guess I'll get a plane ticket to avoid all the crap with the train and their irrational strikes. Then again, maybe by then I'll be here, and maybe I could just drive all the way down to there.

Oh well, I called Gitta and asked her if the New Year's party was still up, and it's still up! For 4000 Ft I can drink as much as I want, and there will be food and people and the whole shebang. Today, after returning my ticket, I'll be going to do my shopping for calendars and see what's out there to see. Who knows? May even call the Lord of the Horses to walk with me a little, keep me amused... My Grandfather will certainly be happy I'm not going to the Balkans. But what to do, what to do... we will be going to Győr! And then, of course, Gödöllő. And then, and then... Well, I'll be here at home, and that will be wonderful. ^_^ In the end, everything has a bright side. In this case, the brighter side is that I'll have more money to spend... only gara be careful, or I'll step over my weight limit.

On Wishes and Fears

So yes, I know it has been a while since the last time I wrote, or at least a while considering the rate I keep in blogging. I do this like this were the CNN and people where depending on my words to make their daily decisions. Well, in some pathetic cases, that's the way it is. I have, however, turned a little more to my journal, and scribbled a ways a few of my thoughts, though not all of them. I wish I could, but I simply either don't find enough alone-time to devote myself to one of my favorite activities on Earth, or when I have such time, I find myself deeply involved reading "Northern Lights", a novel by Jennifer Donnelly, which my aunt lended me. The book is "thick" compared with my reading rate, which is still awefully slow, and it's inb Hungarian instead of English. The language itself ain't the problem regarding my reading speed or understanding, but the thing is that the book was originally written in English and I normally prefer to read book in their original language. It might be a bit insulting to say this or even think this way when my aunt is a professional translator, currently working on translating the biography of Borges from English to Hungarian, and who has translated several books from Spanish to Hungarian or from Catalan to Hungarian, her strongs, BUT I really, trully prefer reading in original as much as I can. If it's not possible, then yes, I prefer reading in Hungarian, if the book is available in that language.

Yesterday my aunt, uncle and I went to Szentendre, a lovely city North from Budapest, which is kept pretty much like an old city. It's not exactly a Skanzen, I believe, but it's beautiful and very well kept. I didn't take many pictures because I already did last year and it was at the same things. I did take, however, a picture at some animals they kept in this little closing, and called the space "simogató", which means "stroker". It would be so much fun if you could make a stroker for people, where you could put people to be stroked and taken care by others. It's like a little "closing" of love. It does make your heart grow. Or what it would be like if you could do something like that, without bars and chicken wire, for cat and dog petting?

My uncle bought for himself a T-shirt that says: "Two Beer or not Two Beer" -- Shakebeer. It's so comical! I bought myself a lovely brown t-shirt that says BP and Budapest (us Hungarians use BP as the initials of our Capital City, since it's made out of two city-parts: Buda and Pest.) I bought also another one, a black one that has a Matrix screen design and says Budapest Visited. It's kinda cool. I'm not a big Matrix fan, like Carrie and Jules, but I like the design. We got also a bracelet for my sister-in-law and a winter hat to replace the one Skylar gave me for Christmas... which I lost in Wien BEFORE I even got to pack it back in the Christmas wrapper and open it officially like a Christmas present. T_T I miss that hat! Well, all that's left are the pictures, like this one:

Yes, I look good in this picture, right? That's in front of a gate at the Eger's Castle... or fortress. The place is beautiful. That's from the first week I was here, before I went to Wien, (DUH!) where I lost that hat. In Costa Rica people lose their umbrellas every second, which also happens here in Spring and Fall, but nothing like the rate of lost hats, GLOVES and scarfs. Gloves actually lead the rate, specially the annoying case of losing only one of your gloves, which usually is the glove of the hand you are most handy with. Why? Well, try to get money out of the wallet with your gloved hand and you see why. Gloves make you a bit clumsy since you lose grip and sensitivity, so people end up taking of their left of right glove depending on the case to take the wallet outl pay, show their commuted transportation ticket or credentials and so.

I'm having a terrific time and I'm gorging on food like a pig. All my favorite food in one place, so no wonder. I've been doing a tad of concience and am trying to return to my normal eating habits before I'm banned from flying because *I* exceed the weight limit, however, with töltött káposzta, chesnut cream, mushroms with breadcrums and Tartar sauce, this DELICIOUS bread made with kovász and not with yeast, the somlói galuska, túrós rétes, nokedli, pörkölt... the stag meat with bacon... bread with goose liver lard, bread with pork lard, bread with pork lard and raw onions!... Fuck it, I'll fatten up and then, when I'm back in Costa Rica, away from all this insanely delicious food, I'll go back to my regular 62Kg.

Tomorrow my train leave at 23 hours to Bulgaria. Yeah, late. I've got myself a sleeping... well, a place in the sleeping wagon. First time! Must be awesome! On my way back, I've also separated myself a nuke. I have enough with sleeping in a plane, and though the seats in a train are far more comfortable, I wanted to try these out. It will be an adventure!

There are a few disturbing news regarding this trip. First, the railroad workers are talking about a strike again, but I have put my hopes on God and asked him nicely to arrance my travel, so nothing bad happens, and so I can go and come back safely. So I really hope the railroad workers will start their strike after I came back.

The other bad news are that it seems there's a ciclon somewhere between the Bosphoros and Barbarelle, or some B-named place. I checked on the weather, and some sites say it will be nice. Sure, under 0, but nice. No "Oh Hell, this is the end, my friend" kind of forecasts. I'll have to buy myself tomorrow a few very thick and warm wool stockings tomorrow, but I expect a nice rtavel with no setbacks.

I tend to worry, but then I slap myself and ask:

"Can you do something about it?"
"No."
"Well, why don't you leave it to the One who can? Stop meddling in other people's business! Go pray, ask God to help you with this, and since He knows how NOISY you can be, He will make sure you go and come back safely. He has helped you all this time, haven't He?"
"Well, yes..."
"Then stop worrying and pay attention to the things you CAN do something about! Like that utterly useless thing Mile and you have to do for that utterly useless Thesis Workshop..."
"You see why I rather worry about the weather..."

Things then get a bit nasty, but then everything is fine.

One other thing. Yesterday at night I had a panic attack. I was scared to death to go back to Costa Rica. The crime, the things that have been happening, and particularly the things that have happenned to my friends and I in these past two-three months. Yesterday all these went around in my head, and though I know I have been so lucky, and God held us so tight in His hand in these perilous moments, I felt like a tiny child who really was about to cry screaming: "I don't want to go, Mamma!" And I don't. Oh dear, I don't. Fear took over me and I couldn't see a single way how could I live safely. If I took and apartment to live by myself, I felt I would be more exposed, and where should I go? Cartago? All Heredia seems suddenly like crime turf in my eyes. Alajuela is out of question. San José? Where? It's all crime ridden. Even Escazú. I thought about getting a car, even some beaten up old cart, but I fear I'll be stopped when I'm opening the gate to park it at home, like it happened in braod daylight with some neighours, and maybe my family is taken hostage, like it happened to this neigbours of ours.

I almost ended up in tears and prayed to the Lord to protect me and let me leave that forsaken country as fast as possible. I really, really want to live here. This is my Home.

There are good things in Costa Rica too, like my dear friend Victor, whom I'd love to take with me, but then again, probably he will soon manage to relocate himself in this continent, the UK, probably, and so we won't be far from each other. I love really, going out with him, but where could we safely go and enjoy a glass of Chardonay without feeling threatened by the criminals lurking in the shadows?

Victor. He gets me thinking. He has definitivelly become one of my best friends, inspite of the efforts some have made to keep us apart. I'm not sure it's because we are alike or anything, but because of the way he is. He's a true gentleman, soft in manner and refined in taste. We might not agree in our taste in men, but he's such a respectful person, wellspoken, wellmannered and such an excellent host I can't but admire him. Focused, clear minded, dedicated... there are so few people who at his short age have such a clear and rational vision of their future. He has been born for success, and all those who can't see that, who plot against him is because, as we have so often proved it, are envious and can't stand the fact that they lack the stamina and the determination this young man has. I'm honored to have his friendship.

It's Not 20 Yet!

Yes, it's Christmas, thanks for noticing. I've called my friends and my friends have called me. Others sent me SMS and others... well, others are out there waiting for a very, very long talk about what does it mean to be my friend and when the boundaries start in aboundless friendship when a third party, namely some real pain in the ass girlfriend is brought into the mix. I mean, don't get me wrong, I do not wish for my friends to end up all alone like me, even though I believe that the freedom conquered through eternal singlehood is the mankinds natural and most blessed state, BUT please let me stress this out loud and clear: your relationship is YOURS so no bring no shit of it to me! I no getting to rubba-dubb-dubb outta it, then I no want to part of it. Very nice, yeah, keep all the luvin' for yo'selves and THEN include me into the frott'n drama! C'mon Dude, get real! I have no problem lending ya an ear when you want to bitch or share, but I don't see why I have to be forcefully included in the drama by witnesing how you SMS with 'er when you are supposed to be talking to me, or that you won't even answer my greeting through the MSN because you are waiting for 'er. Okay, maybe have no idea about how to handle it. Here, lemme help you:

"Hi! Sorry, I'm kind of busy right now. Please don't get upset, but though I wish to speak to you, I really can't. can I get back to you some other time?"

Guess what? Works like a charm. Worry, not. I'm not charging for the advise.

Anyways, Xmas is in town, and we celebrated. I couldn't contact many of my friends, but I know their love reach me just as my love reach them all, from Sweden to South Africa, and from Malasia to California. Hey there, I feel ya! ^_^ Keep it real!

Gara go now. Battery is low and I have no place to plug Nagi in this room. I love you all.

Oh, and the 20 Thing? I don't have 20 Swatch watches just yet. Today I bought my number 19... and received one previously bought, and selected by me. Number 20 is saved to be ourchased in Paris.

KHM Stands For Kunst-Something-Huge-Museum

I start this entry on a Word document. You may wonder why. You are right to do so. Well, as the common sense must has told you, one starts an entry on a Word document when said someone has no access to the Internet. Of course, the lot of you would also think „If I can’t get on the Internet, I don’t post. Plain and Simple.” Well, that’s You, my dear, not me. Of course, if you see this posted, it means that I’ve got good access to the Internet within two hours, otherwise this will be another entry draft lost in the depths of my computer, never to be retreived and the one day erased away because I need the valuable byte space it’s eating up. Memories are treated with unseen cruelty by us.

My second day in Wien has started with me rising right when the breakfast finished, so I fished out a bottle of applejuice from the minibar and had it. Then arranged my plans for the day, which so far had been twisted out of their axe. Lets start with the deceiving Tiberius store, which promised „fashion&books” from the gay side of the town, and it opens at noon and discloses only CLOTHES! I don’t want clothes, I want a gay novel. I already finished Intimate Evil and I need my refil, and no, there’s no gay stuff in L’Évanguil du Satan... at least I don’t think so. Annoyed, I walked down to the Museum Quartier to take advantage of the 2x1 Leopold Museum and this KHM... and they don’t take credit cards! Only Maestro. Who in the fucking HELL has a Maestro card in Costa Rica? I so gara cry to Raiffeisen to make one for me, so I can spend in Wien. I’m beyond devastated. So I’ve got one Adult ticket with my very last 10€ in cash, because when I went for my dictionary, which I’ve got (9,20€ and lacks a fucking lot of words!) the bookstore, Libro (the Austrian counterpart of the Hungarian Libri, I believe) takes no creditcard! To say that I am horrified is an understatement. I mean, I would like to go live in Budapest again, get a job and the whole shebang, BUT my aunt and Jules insist that Wien is so much better and so much civilized, and so much classy, and beautiful... what do I do in a city that closes stores and restaurants at 19 hrs and doesn’t take creditcards? Carry cash and get home early?

Okay, give me five minutes to stop laughing histerically.

Thank you, I’m much better, yes.

So, back to the story. I go to the Museum that Doesn’t Take Credit Cards, and in the way there’s this little fair-like with wooden huts and lovely stuff to buy, including some exceedingly beautiful Murano Glass jewelry. I spend the last of my cash, go check the pictures, and though there are beautiful, and I have discovered that I LOVE Caravaggio (Michaelangelo Merini) and some other painters with names I can’t remember, but who have painted incredibly beautiful pieces, and I find miself in love with Tiziano, the painter... get „scolded” because I took a picture and the flash went off without being intended, I finally realize it would be good to put some solid food in my tummy and got to this luxuriant caffé inside the Museum. I hope there’s some wireless to come with the lunch, but they don’t even have the Käsesandwich I so clumsily tried to order (cheese sandwich. All the others didn’t sound nice enough for me). Okay, coke and truftorte. There is some kind of wireless too. One of the KHM with a killer signal quality and one other with the poorest signal quality in town. What the hell happened? Though both of them are open networks, the killer needs to connect with the network and that takes it so much time I would be waiting here until I become an ancient art piece myself. The other one is so poor it blinks: connected-disconnected-connected-disconnected. Nagi doesn’t like it, gets impatient and says: „Look buddy, make up your mind and when you meet MY standards and provide me with a DECENT stream, THEN I’ll consider to get connected”. Nagi is trying to compensate for the fact that he isn ’t Omi and it’s trying to prove to me that he’s worthy. The dear baby.

Some of it is my fault, I must say.

„Damned Nagi... Omi usually shows me more of the Excel sheets...”

„Oh Nagi... I can see more of my e-mails with Omi...”

I don’t mean to...

Sometime later...

So they have these store where they sell this huge waxy things that look like food and that are cut and measured to the demand of the client. But what are they? Take a look at the picture.

It's soap.

Eating in Wien

It has been my belief for quite a while now, that Vienna (Wien) is one of those places, where people live very calmly and very, very slowly. Either it is regarded like the little "red neck attachment" to Germany, or people here are not prone to stay out of home after work.

I arrived today sometime past 16 hr to Wien, and sometime past 17 hr to my beloved hotel, which I must say, remains as perfect and as beautiful, sporting ravishing Hungarian receptionists as usual. The room is small and beautiful, the kind of place you could call home, and the bathroom is... the kind of space you could call SPA. My mind is made, Hotel Continental will be forever the place I'll stay in when I'm in Wien.

Instead of going right away to have some diner, like I wrote to Jules, I went up to check if there was any Internet in the hotel, and there was, and I felt complied to check on my dear friend Gitta's blog (some awesome note on Penicilin-bread sold at the local convenience store), and then I wrote my very first impressions on Wien in my Hungarian blog, with s a small, annoyed stop at the kind of cattle that travels on the Volánbusz to this sweet city. Some people should be prohibited from any contact with the world. They are just that pissing. Then again, anyways, what kind of Granny eats supper at 17 hr? My aunt shouldn't be counted in. Then again, I'm the "lunch at 15, 16 h because I have no time and I want to avoid the lunch crowd", so I ain't no standard to measure the Universe. Anyway, I spent some quality time and so, and ended up getting up to score food at 19 hr. I checked the fliers at the reception to pick a place to eat. There wasn't much to choose from, and I wasn't ordering a "call girl to take" for supper. Nor was I interested in a lap dance. However, someone left a booklet from the Vienna Visit Card, which I didn't get, AGAIN, and I checked it fro places. There was this very cool looking place, the Bagel Station. Hey, talk to me about bagels, I'm the Bagellina! I'm crazy for bagels! Sure, sure, it's not the most Viennesian thing to eat, but I wanted soemthing light.

That "something light" turned out to be closed at 19 hr! The Hell, with this people! I managed my way through two metro lines, made ma calculations, got lost on the street, and they dare to close on me. So I went looking for some food to score, and all I could see was the Golden Arches of McDonald's. Man, that would really be a bitch, to eat at McDonald's the first meal in Wien. However I saw a funny green sign and thought it could be food, and I was right! Leupold! Awesome place, great food... and such obnoxious waiters. One for drinks, one for foood, and since my German is sadly reduced due to the lack of a dictionary, I was forced to use English (would be happier using French, but no avail). People can be really... unpleasant. I am disappointed.

Nice place, but I doubt I'll eat here again.

On Trains and Busses

I ain't happy because of the change. Having to take a bus instead of a train to goe everywhere I want to go, just because these people decide to go on a strike when I'm here. Who do they think they are? How am I supposed to go to Sofia? Walking? Horseback riding? Because I already crossed the Atlantic, and I ain't going nowhere no plane if I can help it, nad I am going to Bulgarian one way or the other... which seems to be by BUS! Holy fucking shit. 25 hours on a bus. I must really love that country, don't I?

Through the FB and the gmail, I've received a lot of good wishes and desires to amise myself and have fun in my vacations, here in my homeland, my fatherland, my heart and everything, and add to it, a mail from WORK on my gmail account, telling me that I've until January 6th to send a BRIEF on some Regulations by the SUTEL on Service Quality. Well, guess what, buddy, I aimnt doing jack! No sir. I'll read, work on thesis stuff, because that pleases me and makes me a better person, and you go and you do your fucking own work. Dude, I'm save and I'm incredibly loved, and I ain't no leaving this haven for the likes of nobody.

Loved. I'm so LOVED in here! Of course my family loves me, but Jules' family loves me too, and they love le CRAZY! The mom and I stood talking like two schoolgirls all the way until 23:10! The dad adores me and goes all goofy around me and all. They made me a few comments about a thing or two I wrote in my Hungarian blog, which they read, about my impressions on Jules' girl and Jules and they said I was RIGHT in my appreciations. Hit the nail on the head. So... got me thinking.

We had pálinka and kocsonya for diner, which was awesome, and tomorrow we are going to Eger to see the bazilika and the castle from the time of the Ottoman occupacy... (Carrie, have you gotten to read the book I gave you, like two years ago? Well, I'm going to te castle which Bornemissza Gergely helped defend!) and maybe I'll se the minaret as well! It's gonna be a swell! Jules will be here tomorrow night, so I can pick on him and have fun with him....provided he won't be on the phone.

Well, it's late and I gara go wash the make up off my face, put on my pjs and go... read some more of that awesome Intimate Evil book. I tell you, Paul Reidinger is my favorite writer. You see, that a book for which Rob Pattinson should go and make the movie. Sure it's gay and all that, but's well written, has plot and has no CORNY stuff in it. Of course, that unless he's sucha crappy actor he couldn't actually do a serious part even if his life depended on it.

Finally I'm Home

Once again I'm turned into a call center. My brand new phone is ringing off the hook, and there's like three people knowing the number! Well, maybe one more. So yeah, I didn't hook up on the plane, like last time, BUT I just picked up a Hungarian lovely thing from the Pannon GSM store. Dude, that's what I call "customer service", or like Mr. B would rather call it (because he SWEARS it's better) "customer experience". Well, that's some.

I've been running arround seeking wireless Internet Connection, since I don't seem to be able to get wire connection getting decent. Thank you company dude who "configurated" Nagi so he would hook to the company network. Thank you. Really. I hope you can feel my appreciation.

Regarding the trip, it might prove difficult to solve. First, my luggage ain't here, and I just remembered that two of my favorite Swatch watches were in there, the peacock and the Snowflake. Then, so is the craddle of my PDA, which is so old there's no way in Hell I can buy a new one.

I'm at the Leroy Restaurant, a really classy place, with bags and bags all over me. Weather in... warm, which dispeases me a little, because all my clothes prove to be hot. All my clothes mean the ones on my back. All my other clothes are in the luggage... Fuck.

Oh well, gara go now.

Paris is gonna get me broke

First of all, there's no wireless in Caracas, so I couldn't write from there. Second, I hook up with no one this time, so I ACTUALLY saw Paris during the day. Well, it wasn'g much seeing because it's all cloudy, but it wasn't cold, so I had a wonderful time. Really, wonderful. Went down the Av. de l'Opera, as usual, where I extected to grab a bite at Bioboa café, but it was close. Who closes on Sunday? That's so annoying. I ended up scoring some incredible delicious escargot for lunch, learning for the first time all by meself, how it should be eaten. The problem wasn't the snail, but the eating tools they provided me with: a wicked pair of plairs and a tiny, narrow fork with two points. So I applied the "grab-and-pull" logic to it. What can I say? At least now I can say I've eaten cooked snails. They ain't slimy, if you think so.

Unlike the Juan Santamaría, the Charles de Gaule doesn't have a free wireless Internet service, so I ended up having to pay for the service, up to 15€, which is really nothing compared to all I've spent so far... including a lovely 2009 Rugby Caledar, which I won't be able to hang at the office, though it would improve my mood considerably every day.

Today I went to the Louvre, and as expected, couldn't see much of it. Went into the Denon section, where the Joconde is shown and marveled at the frescoes and scultpures, though I must say that the sculptures smell very, very bad. They smell like rancid bathrooms. It's very unappealing. Went to the Benetton store andc bought myself a pair of lovely gloves. I forgot my white gloves at home, and so I bought a pair in venezuela, in teh colors of the flag, but here I was compelled to buy these ones as as well. Then bought my aunt a box of French chocolates mainly because the box is so pretty.

However, there's something that upsets me terribly: I'm at France, a match between Perpignan and Leicester are playing. Perpignan just signed Daniel Carter, an awesome New Zeland player... and I CAN'T SEE IT!!! Like crazy I've been asking, and NOTHING! What does a woman has to do to get a bit of rugby around here?

I'm so happy!

Good Grace!

My heart is racing as if it were pumping coffee. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear... I saw and talked extendedly with Faux V. Coy, kiddy, seeks to make me jump with some of his comments, lovely, close, pretty much sucked up all teh vids I had on Vassili, which include every single episode I possess of Supernatural, and now we are talking on the MSN. Love? you may ask. My answer this time is HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Get real. Lust in the best of cases.

I did all my good deeds, spending an important chunk of my morning at the other side of Sabana trying to fix up my Institutional Card situation, which requieres so much paperwork I'll leave it for next week... unless I need to escape expeditely from here... like on Friday, away as far as I can from some high-quota office party which doesn't really worths for me the price asked for it.

Well, back to Faux V, he pierced his eyebrow. Well, expresses his rebelious soul. Showed me one of his pictures.

Okay, he JUST asked me to lunch. I'm supposed to lunch with Jenkins, Nell and Mr.B. No sign of Mr. B, and anyway, when have we ACTUALLY gone out on an appointed date? Never? Right. That's how much I trust his word. Sorry, but this is what things have come to. Plans come and go, and I'm pushing the line. Yeah, in 30 minutes, fisherie... like it would actually happen.

Suuuuuuuuuuuure! I want him, I really do. Love the way he speaks, the way he words his thoughts, and the novelesque quality of his narrative, plot and structure.

Will we go out today for lunch?


UPDATE 13:15.

He did. He came. He took me to lunch.

Conversation was awkward, but the beer was just fine. A lovely gentleman, though never like Christian, you mind.

Oh dear, he actually kept one promise. He did took me to lunch...

So Bored

... I finished my task two hours ago... what will I do the rest of the week? Will have to start either writing a fic, a novel or bringing stuff to read. Oh man, I hate it when it becomes like this! Wish I had some real work to do. Mine, you mind. I ain't asking Mr.B for some task, or I'll be stucked with HIS work, and I ain't doing that.

Before me I have a table of "tasks" I could tackle, but either I believe they are no longer actual or they are HIS share. Not to mention, now I can't do a schedule since we recently learned that you have to do a bunch of stuff before we make a schedule, and even then, it has to be made my the team. So, I don't do it. I just ripped off the post-its with the tasks and shoved them into the waste bin. Damned, what now? Read some standards? Hn, maybe I could do that.

You know, this is what I end up doing: giving myself tasks.

I guess I'm giving my head to research... since I ain't nothing better to do.

Who Gives Back Robbed Days?

I'm pissed off. I'm so fucking pissed off like you have no idea, and FUCK if you have SHIT to say about the way I talk! I was sent to a FUCKING seminar I had NO DESIRE WHAT SO FUCKING EVER to attend, and was fucking made fucking sit DAILY for NINE FUCKING HOURS through THREE FUCKING DAYS listening to a HUGE LOAD OF BULLSHIT I wasn't interested in, to begin with. It was all about "Fucking Project Management". And I had to sign a contract of me staying in this Hyne forsaken company for 2 FUCKING YEARS to make the $1000 fucking investment pay back. If I leave this FUCKING JOINT before, I have to pay proportionally. No biggie, you'd say, only please take in consideration that I have been signing this fucking kind of contracts all fucking year long, so my "debt" for a fucking series of seminars and workshops that worth abso-fucking-lutely SHIT is so large I might need either to sue the company OR ask for a bailout. Get the picture?

Plot thickens when you consider that I have up to TODAY only 1.4 weeks of work left, and the task load is important, and I'm taking no shit home because I'm working on our thesis, so sorry-con zorritos, like Roo says, but me have me time all booked up. Then what? Oh, Mr. B wants me to do some more, namely his tasks as well? The only good that came from that fucking waste of LIFETIME was that since he was there, now I can use all those tools against him. Problem is that I'm left only with ONE Salbutamol pump and I need to keep at least 5, so I'm covered for whenever and wherever I happen to have an asthma seizure, and so I was going to go to the doc this week to get the prescriptions, but now that's more than impossible. Can only hope I can purchase them at a drugstore with no prescription.

--- Okay, maybe I can get some right now!!!

Be back in one hour!

(Back SEVERAL hours later...)

Update:

1. I've got a prescription for ONE Salbutamol pump, PLUS unrequested cough syrup and one beclometasona pump.

2. I've got no problems getting the head-up to my permission for tomorrow afternoon for thesis stuff. (Now hopefully the elusive Adan "Sardine" Chacon WILL be at his office to receive me!) I'll have to cancel my participation on tomorrow's SLA meeting, but be it. (Just sent the e-mail.)

3. Bad, bad, bad, bad news: guess who will be appointed as the Project Manager of the infamous Quality and Customer Experience project that's not really clear what's about? I just tell you one thing, and one thing only: for the SHIT I'll have to put up with the managing of that THING, my boss better get me a PROF 3, though I'm REALLY feeling like I'll deserve AT LEAST a PROF 5.

Good and bad in one bag.

Peachy.

Compromising Headlines

New York Times:

Squeezing the Most From a Stimulus Plan

You really don't have to be that smart to read this the wrong way, now do you? If you don't get it, sit down and watch porn or Supernatural, and then you'll know about "squeezing the stimulus".

In two weeks I'll HOME. My folks are planning up until now about what to sent to whom, which is kinda late, don't you think? I still gara score some presents, these being hard to find since I have an idea, but the items are no longer being sold. Supid customs! This is one fucking thing about shopping: you want something in particular and they have EVERYTHING but what you are looking for. How can people be such a pain in the ass? I've decided to get my uncle some cool stationary, since he likes to write letters, but I can't seem to find anything right. I'm one step away from scoring him a book on Costa Rica from the bookstore and have it done (which ain't a bad idea, now that I think about it...). For my grandpa I'd like to get him a mug with lid, so it can keep the heat and so he can drink his hot tea for longer. My aunt's gift has been both a month ago, and I have it and all, just like Shimmy's gift. Thing is that I went a bit "overhead" with ---

I was supposed to be at a class today! FUCK!!! Gara go, people!

Honey, Yo Ain't The Only Ones

Before I can muster a definitive reaction, I'm torn between

a. Be amazed that someone of the Government finally said it aloud (though many have already)
b. Laught at the naivité of this person for stating the obvious.

But what am I talking about?

From today's Washington Post, "FDA Draws Fire Over Chemicals In Baby Formula".

Public health groups, consumer advocates and members of Congress blasted the Food and Drug Administration yesterday for failing to act after discovering trace amounts of the industrial chemical melamine in baby formula sold in the United States.

"This FDA, this Bush administration, instead of protecting the public health, is protecting industry," said Rep. Rosa DeLauro (D-Conn.)

First of all, yes, this is happening in the U.S. Oh My Gaia! The end of the world! Stop for a second. This IS going around the WHOLE GLOBE. But that's not bad, oh no, it's very, very good because this goes according to this "Spilling Theory" (Teoría del Desborde) where you help the enterprise, the rich, the strong and then all the good from it will spill down to the lower economical and productive levels of society and everybody will see the benefit, right? Wait, let me get a hold of all the ant-keynesians, anti-structuralists, all the liberal economists, free-market advocates, libertarians, monetarists... oh, and let's not forget the IMF! Hey, Mr. Strauss-Kahn! You are required to explain all these good people why is this so good for all of us!

...

Keep buying that free market and liberal baloney, you brainless lot.

News

My e-mail server, well, one of them, says that Laura Bush is planning to write a book. Well, those are news indeed! I ignored that there was anyone in that family who knew how to read, less how to write! Or is it that she will draw up some pictographic story?

Bagel For Breakfast

The day I move to Hungary, to my beloved birth city, Budapest, I hope they'll have a Bagelmen's or some sort of bagel shop that does express delieveries or I don't know what will I do for breakfast. Usually I try to have something really healthy and good for breakfast, such as oatmeal, which I really love, but lately, since I have no cash on me, and the only credit card I still carry around (only Hyne knows why, though) has the astonoshing amount of 900 colones left to be used. (How do I do that? It's one of those mysteries of nature science is still trying to understand.) I order from this store with the number of a still working credit card, which I don't carry around with me, or most likely I would have pumped up long ago. Not like it would be something bad, you mind, but that's not the point.

The point it that it's becoming a daily ritual to heat up a cup of water to make a cup of strong coffee in my French Press, and wait until 7 am to pick up the phone and call Bagelmen's Escazú and ask them for my breakfast.

Two regular cokes, this is a MUST. All my orders have permanently incorporated these two. Coffee or no coffee, I live for this stuff.

Hot bagel, not toasted. It remains softer, though by the time it arrives is kind of cold again.

Bagel with poppy seeds or sesame seeds. Recently I've been going for the poppy over the sesame, but from time to time I make the change, because I like sesame seeds too.

Cheese cream to the side, not on the bagel! they send me more cheese cream than what I can put on the bagel, but I like to dose the amount of cheese cream on my bagel.

Chives or garlic and herbs for cheese cream. I have tried once the pesto and the sundried tomato, but they weren't that good. Lox is a lottery: sometimes it's good, but some other times the fish has a rather "fishy" taste to it. It's simply too stale and too bad, and stinks like the 3G project. I wouldn't go for the sweet cheese creams because it's already too odd to think of raising cheese cream or cinnamon cheese cream, but then, after tasting their tooth-breaking brick coockies, their brick-and-dust-no-flavor brownies or their what-the-hell-is-this muffins, you kinda learn to stay away from their sweets and stick to what they know the best: their bagels. And my sweet Gaia, do they KNOW about bagels! Hmmmmmm.... it's an awesome breakfast every single day!

I think, right know I could answer to you that one question I never know how to answer: what's your favorite food? BAGELS!

Well no, I actually love Hungarian food much better than bagels.

Today the morning started on the sour end, since I was so pissed thinking that my boss was once again thinking I'm some sort of secretary or assistant of him. I am not. Then again, someone who has no idea what should he be doing wouldn't even be able to make the difference between his job or any job, and all he can think of is how to get someone to do all these things he wouldn't understand even if they were explained to him using games and crayons. Maybe he's just too stressed out by... realizing how inadecuate he is to the position or something, but for instance, I was telling him that some people made a mistake by saying that an index was a brief. I thought it was clear the mistake, but he said:

"Well, they are very, very similar."

O_O Ex...cuse me? So I tried speaking slower. Really, slowly and enunciating.

"No boss, I mean, they wrote in here that THE INDEX is a BRIEF."
"I see nothing wrong with that."

So I explained to him that a brief is a document where you summarize several observations, maybe several indexes, or maybe no indexes at all, and concentrates only on relevant items, and explained them, analized them and exposed the influence or effect on other items, WHILE an index took a number of variables, always fix and defined by the very construction of the index, and showed always information with the same composition. An index shows a relation between variables, or the status of a given variable, while the brief explains it.

"Why are you trying to such fine level of detail?"

My... Goodness. Better not to try and explain him the difference between a house and a cardboard box. I felt totally like a pre-school teacher bringing up funny examples. I had to use bones and exrays to explain to him the difference between a brief and an index, and even then it took him half an hour to understand. It did. I know. By the time I came out of his office (and I'mnot entirely sure he did understood the difference), it was almost MY lunchtime.

Anyway, I asked him to read the documents, write down his comments and so I could work using his expertise and point of view as well.

"But I have so much to read already!"

O_O .... Dear Hyne, is he for real? No, really, he DID said that. I mean, if some ant like me complains that he or she has so damned much to read and so damned much to do, it's kind of acceptable because we are ants. We deal with it and all, and juggle our responsabilities, but basically, the only solution for us, if we can't take it, is to quit the job. However, when someone who wants to be a boss complains about all the work he has to do, dude, step down! Didn't he know that the job of a boss entitled a hell lot more than that of an ant?

I feel like watching Supernatural. Yep, I'm addicted. Hopefully today after the class at the University, I'll meet Víctor and we will go over to his place and watch the next chapter. Can't wait to see it!

On other news, thesis news, I've been checking the documents I've got from Carlos Manuel about this reseach they did in 97-98 and it's not only astonishing, but I would dare to say it's exactly what we were looking for. Kind of outdated, but it gives us a nice footprint to follow. It's amazing, but the more I learn about this activity, the more I love it and the more I want to know. My mind is spinning around the subject, and though I'm not much into the research of production, I kind of start thinking of it. Yesterday I found myself thinking of the Commodity Chain of the embroided goods made by the women of Mezőkövesd. You know, things like this can make you feel alive. These are the things that really matter. Doing what you like, living your vocation, developing in the area you have chosen, there where your soul lives. This is something a lot of people can get.

Recently, dear Husband was questioning me about my wish to live alone and give my head to my career. According to him, Hyne bless his innocent head, that was the sure road to depression and eternal sadness. He claims to believe that only a stable partner, and stablished, sedentarian "lovelife" can provide you with happiness, and a job could never fulfill a person. Well, it is not my desire to change his mind (thanx Hyne I'll never be caught dead getting married to him! Eww!), but one must understand his circumstances: uneducated, lazy, dependant of his environment, his only creative work is to make up lies and alternate lives for himself, where he's a maffia don, a condecorated, high ranked army official or karate kid. He's, the poor thing, completely unable to make an actual living for himself. Probably it fills him with dread to see how his actual life is so different from the life he brags about and the one he wants to have. My poor dear Husband, may the world have mercy of his deranged soul, is the kind of person who lives hoping for a miracle, winning the lottery, getting an unexpected inheritance, marrying a rich woman (now you start to see why I was the dear Wife, right?), or just finding a bag full of money on the metro. Well, with his education, and the muscle he actually puts in it, the speed with which he retrieves whenever he should make an effort, and then stays at that instead of trying to find a way to get around things, it's rather unlikely he would EVER move out of the slump he's inhabiting.

For someone like him, who really has no preparation whatsoever, talking about a "career" is like trying to explain... my boss the difference between an index and a brief. For someone who has no vocation and develops none, a "job" is an impostion he must endure in order to get money. A job it's entirely about getting money. So, getting "satisfaction" out of your job? How can that be possible? My poor thing probably wouldn't understand while would someone do something pro-bono. For him you change of jobs if you can get more money, but the idea of going to a new job that pays you less than the one you are living, or passing on a job offer that pays you more because it doesn't fulfill you as professional (or in my case as scientist), or because it doesn't allow you to grow career-wise, this not being a chief position, but to acquire more knowledge of a given area of interest... that's absolutely demented.

I pity him.

I do not seek a relationship or any kind of formal, semi-formal or informal-but-sustained-in time relationship because my goal, and the source of my happiness is my career. I don't need some guy, no matter how steaming hot and how good in bed, soft spoken, independent and out of my way he might be, to wake up with me, to be with me all my life. I have friends, I don't need a "partner". Some people need it, but I don't. What I want and need to be happy, is to be given the chance to work my field. I believe there are among you those who know what I mean. It's that sheer, bursting pleasure at working with something you love, you are passionate about. The way your brain feels inside your head, and the surge of something great from the back of your head to the front and down your chest and back as you figure something out, and start builing up something new, finding answers, turning here and there and create, just create something so magnificent! It's not only knowing that you can help a lot of people with what you do, but above all is the feeling of finding something, learning about something and realizing that you could use this in this way or that way, that you can explain now this or that and, since you understand it, you can also help fix this or that or make something entirely new and absolutely fabulous!

From my point of view, it's kind of hard to understand how can someone prefer a person with whom someone has ocasional sex and makes commitments and have to give up a lot of things one like, to something as extended and magnificent as science. Science is HUGE and new, and changing and full of so many mysteries and details you'll never get bored. You don't need to be young or beautiful to work with it, and it's intense and dynamic and fulfilling. People get boring. People get in fights with you. Science is... always building you, making you grow and be bigger, better, brighter... and I sound like a nerd.

I do would like to work on research, particularly on the areas of social welfare and technology applied to labor and it's macroeconomical effects. That's my thing.

Judgement

I should be working on my boss' job. Yep, make him a brief on two hideous briefs sent to him to counter the brief I do. Well, the brief was all done: nothing to say except that it's CRAP. I can't possible brief the nothing. The documents are un-briefable. Totally. Things like this make me wonder how is it possible that so much imbecility happens upon this world. I mean, how come someone so incompetent actually survive? Don't believe me? Well, let me make you an interpretation to ... something... rather "daily" so everybody gets it.

Brief: The Life Quality of Werewolves Today.

Executive Brief: we wil analize the behavior of lycans during the hunting season.

Brief: wolfie people: 63
Transformations: 8 one Friday, 5 one Monday, 36 Tuesdays.
They usually transform at 6 pm but in this moth they transformed once at 7 pm and once at 5 pm.

Conclusions: they maybe should stop goofing around because that keeps the neighbours up.

Wait, that actually makes more sense than the brief I'm trying to portray.

Anyway, I'm taking a break from making my boss' answer to the memo and the briefs.

There's this guy, RD, who's writing to me lately, and whom I've offended. Yeah, odd, right? Me offending people. It was kind of like he sent me a mail with bits and pieces that sounded rather "pre-cooked". It was way too... hn, how can I explain this? It was an archetypical mail intended to sound interesting and smart, yet saying absolutely nothing. Evidently I thought it was one out of two chances: either it was a scam or it was some lame dude thinking I was some impressionable bimbo who would ohhh and ahhhh about some oh-wow story snipet. So before smaking him good-bye and laugh in his face, I decided to dig a little and get a bit of information. Maybe it was someone playing "safe". I tried to get info, inviting him to tell me a bit about the only thing that really matters to me... in the cyber-world: the human side of the other end. Nothing. He was playing safe, and being a safe. Fuck, why some people is so fucking selfish? "I want to know all about you, but I'll tell you nothing about me". "You give me all the info I want, but no asking me jack, because I won't give you anything". Don't these people realize how dehumanizing such a behavior is? Sorry, this is a person, not a machine and certainly not a celebrity. I write for MYSELF, not for you, so stop pretending you have rights over my information! So I decided to profit from the situation doing a little thing I enjoy doing and used the information sent over to build up a profile about the "the other end". Kind of like profiling a character for a story, or like I said to a dude I picked up once at a bar: it's like playing "Criminal Minds".

I sent him the profiling I did of him. Middle aged guy who might be around 30-40 with a mentality younger than his age, clearly behind in his emotional development regarding his physical age. In other words, I called him "immature", or "childish. Mature man playing the part of a late teen.

He answered with snipets of his life. Well, he's 54, so I missed him by ... 14 years, but that makes him all the more immature, to my still standing characterization, overly normal acording to a professional criteria, and doesn't judge and thinks judging without knowing is "ignorant and rude". Yes, that was a blow, which I received with an arched eyebrow. I wouldn't say it was uncalled for, because I do realize I was harsh, to say the least, and down right mean if you wish to call it that way. I didn't act out of evil intentions to hurt though, even if that sounds incredibly "Sarah Palin". First of all, define "judge". If you say "judge" is equal to "condemn" as good or bad without plenty evidence, it might be ignorant. But if you call "judge" to label and categorize something, well that's the way we take hold of the world and understand it.

What do you do to understand something? You don't invent new words for each new phenomenon, but as you try to explain it in order to understand it, you must compare it with some preexisting knowledge frame. Knowledge and understanding is dynamic. You change your perception or reinforce it according to the information the given phenomenon provides you with. Some signs can lead you to a mistake, but the constant observation and correcting can improve the knowledge and slowly lead us towards a fuller fact, with perceptions closer to it, or so to say: a truer-truth. A more realistic truth.

Is that wrong? Is that ignorant? Is that rude? But of course it's not. It's human. RD's comment, at the same time made me think about us, mankind. Yes, "judgment" is considered an evil thing, a rude, nasty thing even though everybody does it. Why is it so bad? It ain't bad doing it, judging the world around us, but what the society disapproves is the "voicing" of your results. Why is so? I believe that's because people wish to live their lives seeing only the ideal image they have built up about themselves, and the "judgment" of others shatters that image. Again, usually the weaklings, trained by society to have low self esteem and self image, which can be molded by tormenting them with the vision of the "herd". Judgment, as long as it goes against their image, is a form of social punishment. At the same time, being society the one entity with the lowest self- esteem of all, any negative judgment dents it, reacting so in a repressing way.

Society isn't perfect, people ain't perfect and "judging" is actually our tool to keep both in constant dynamism in order to achieve higher and higher levels. Never perfection, for perfection is usually a death trap, but towards improved solutions that wonder one way and then the other fitting the soul of the herd. However this would mean the shattering and moving of structures, and both people and society hardly are fine with such solutions. A shattering instead of being seen as a "move to a bigger, fitter shirt" is seen as a "mistake made", and that's horrifying. Why? Because our whole upbringing makes us believe that a mistake is a failure and failures make us "unfit". A mistake is just a mistake. A mistake is like a sickness. You get sick, you get cured. Well, you make a mistake, you fix it. Really, what's the big deal about it? But mistakes are seen as unforgivable flaws that fuck up the entire thing. Then, of course, pile mistake upon mistake making it then really into what was feared in the first place. Judgment is shut because it would be the way to realize that it's kind of fucked up, and that's unafordable and each time it becomes less and less affordable because so many things and mistakes are built upon it that changing becomes taxative.

The solution is ... bravery. I think people and societies as well should learn to practice self-judgment, and not be afraid of making mistakes. Check what you are doing, and if you took a wrong decision or made a mistakes, fix it before you go on. Why is it so hard to understand?

Qu'est-ce qui ce passe, mon petit?

I'm... flabbergasted! How can this be happening? I mean, the French aren't really that good, but they are no "Knicks" of the rugby. So they are not making it against the Aussies, but... David Skela, the lovely boy who looks like Sam from Supernatural... (no picture really shows how he looks like... he always looks so bad...)

Today Skela had SIX chances to kick a penalty and award his team with three point on each case. He missed FIVE of them. When he played against Argentina, he connected and got those three point each time, so what the hell happened today? His boyfriend broke up with him? Didn't get action prior to the game? Or was he pumpeed so good he was still recovering after 80 minutes? Or was it more vulgar? Was he thinking whether he forgot to turn off the stove, or if he took out the garbage?

What happened today, Skela?

Costa Rica, The Nightmare

Short and to the point. If you still think that there's something good about Costa Rica, think twice. My friend Hans and I got robbed at gun point not 55 yards from my place. I live in a very, very homey, almost rural part of the city. You'd say is an old Pop's and Ma kind of neighbourhood, were people pretty much know each other and all. Well, this wastes of humanity are getting all the way here from the slums they inhabit and rip off working people.

Hans remembers them better. I remember a grey, oversized sweater, a light colored baseball cap and the gun. I'm not a gun conaisseur, but upon looking at the googled up pictures, the gun looks a lot like a colt 45 peacemaker, all in metal, no wood or rubber ... handle. It looked old, kinda battered and ugly. It wasn't a nice piece and looked somewhat crooked. The metal itself was rather light, almost as if it were made out of aluminium.

Today, at 6 am, when my dad and I went to pick up my nephew, there was an OIJ squad and lots of cars in my brother's neighbourhood. They were going to arrest some people who are part of a violent crime band.

The president talks and talks about peace and shit, but he does nothing. Truth is that since he has stepped into the power, things have been going from bad to worse. People get killed on the streets for a mobile phone. People is being snatched from the street, beaten up, raped, robbed, and forced to give up passwords and PIN codes of all credit and debit cards.

Things are getting out of hand, and sorry, but I don't want to stay to see the end of this.

The Powerless Mob and the Sneaky Tumor

Regarding Monday's entry, a friend of mine expressed his interest in how would I "tackle the monster", or more precisely, which are my ideas to "get under its skin". I'm pretty much talking here about a political monster, or shall we say a monster that has a political face. Well, first of all, one of the harderst things to do with one of these creatures is to attack it upfront. Political movements, on the surface, at least, try to get their way, make things happen by rising crowds and trying to make people act as a single cohesive force. The problem with it is that such a thing hardly happens. It might cost blood, too, and not everybody is willing to pay in such a currency or other "similar coins". It usually takes something really big and really oppressive and then a very convincing, cohesive force to make a big lunp of people work under one, organized mind. So, the idea of a social revolt is hardly doable. It's poetic, it's loable, desired and fair, but that's not a practical tool to weaken a political monster.

The way, however, is the same that has been used time and again to take a chip out and put another in its place: work with it and undermine it. Use its strenght against it, and pull out the pillars that hold up its weakest points. This, more than just babling about ideology and proposals and what you want to see in its place, demands research. Learn your monster, watch it, study it, find its patterns, learn its strong and weak points and then organized the methodical, systematic attack. I think you have far more chances to succeed if instead of building up a monster to take out the other monster, locking horns and taking the blows, you make yourself a tiny cancer-cell and lodge into the monster, lump up into a tiny tumor, invisible to the monster, and scout the monster, send out tiny cells, to strategical places so that when you metastasize not only the end comes swift, but no chimio can reach to you.

I have studied this monster and I believe I have a few ideas about where to send my cells, though I still need to form a tiny lump. I'm scounting here and there, looking for unsuspecting cells to work. ^_^ This is one little cancer-girl simply looking around, planning and working out a meanie plan to kill a monster with the minimal collateral damage.

I've been writing to Jules, as usual, discussing an old matter, and hopefully this time we will bury the axe for good. (Does this expression exists for real, or I'm just picking up from Spanish and Englishizing it?) It kinda pisses me off, to be truthful. However, I love Jules to no ends, and so I'll seek to ignore the feeling of having someone "imposed on me". However, it's really hard to shut that little me in my head, that raises her eyebrows behind her glasses and sips her coffee while pragmatically asking a very reasonable question: "Why does this relationship has to be my problem?" Truth is that we do not live in Elm Street and we can't be always all happy and fun around each other. Nor everybody loves everybody else. Some people dislike each other. Carrie dislikes Mario, Víctor dislikes Kate, and well, Skylar dislikes Tati and Karo (whom I don't really like, but with whom I've a cordial relationship that hasn't been severed by stepping on turfs), and we are still friends. I just make sure people stay away from each other. Carrie knows that Mari and I can't bear each other's presence, and so does Mario, so they live with it. Víctor knows that Iván and I are better kept separated, since I think he's toxic and he thinks whatever he wishes to think... assuming he's capable to process thoughts. Do they tear up their hems and try to bring East and West to dine together? No.

Funny thing is that, so far, Jules knew that Zalavári and I weren't on speaking terms and he had no problem with that whatsoever. So, he knows, simply knows the mechanic of "keep apart friends". Why is it so different now? Ain't like I won't understand if he chooses to spend the major holidays with Kata, or if I'll make a fuss if he spends the 99.9% with her. Dude, she's his girlfriend, I'm his buddy. So, what's really lurking under this sudden need to make ends meet? He does have explained me that he loves us both, and would hate to lose any of us, which for me, truth to be told, sounds like a threat: "behave or I'll outcast you of my life". O_ô Dude... come on, we are grown ups. However if that's the only way he sees out of this whirlpool he has stepped into, I'll step aside, hold the gate and wave good-bye. ^_^ One must always sport a smile on the face.

I pose myself a few questions I would like to pose to him, if I knew he would answer thruthfully. Why am I so important to him? So, I love him and he loves me back, and that's important enough, but it's not a "crippling" condition. What's happening that he needs to pull together and manage together two different relationships? I'm far apart, geographically speaking, and have been so for ages now. Our entire relationship, the love and friendship we feel for each other has been sowed in the distances, seeds planted through letters and fed with scattered visits. Our meetings grow more frequent and we get close. But that doesn't make it "cripping". Life goes by and we are a nuke in each other's path, a place to hold hands, hug and smile, share a secret and laugh a little before going back to the strive. Important, yes, but... not a part that must be there all the time. So, why is it important for him to make me meet ends with his girlfriend? Can't I simply disapprove of her, can't she simply disapprove of me and that's that? Why can't he go on keeping us apart?