The Nerve!

Have I mentioned this case from last week which was about the "I'll ask you to help me with this, which is my job and was assigned to me four weeks ago, but I haven't been able to do it either because I was so busy (my ass!) or because I was so incompetent or I simply didn't want to do it and was deliberately procastinating until either it did itself or I could ask you to do it, which I just did, because really, it was my work but I just didn't do it, and since I'm your boss I can ask you to leave all the other work you have behind and concentrate on this one, because this one is MY work and I can't look bad"? Well, today Mr. Kahuna came back from his well deserved vacations and graced us all with his enlightening presence and was kind enough to tell me:

"I actually expected more from the presentation."

Naturally, I turned to my screen and kept working. It was either laugh in his face or tell him that I would have expected MORE from him than ZILCH when after four weeks of having the assignment on his desk he managed nothing, left no clear instructions about what should be done, what are the premises of the presentation, but above all, for fuck's sake! at least have a backbone of the presentation ready after four weeks, so I could work on it! Of course I made him the backbone and now it's HIS job to fill it up and complete it. As it is, a lot has been done for him. Geez, these are the thanks you get for "helping".

The problem with this Mr. Kahuna is that he really has no idea what does he need to do, so the fact that he "expected more" makes me want to burst in laugher. So, really? And just to enlighten me, what did you "expected"? I bet 50€ that his answer will start with "I don't know". Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh! You never know! Hahahahahahahahaha!

I was also tempted to answer:

"I know you think I'm the Oracle of Delphos, and all mysteries of men and gods are revealed to me, and that I can read your mind and find out in there the answers you yourself ignore, but it just isn't so."

One of these days I'll really ansdwer him that, just to see how he reacts.

Well, maybe next time he could ask Lazy Ass to do his job for him. After all, it's been three months and he hasn't sent him back...

Oddities

today's blog is dedicated to my dearest friends:
Sandra, Roo, Laura, Carrie, Katty, Mario, Ana, Gyula, András, Mile, Andrey, Edwin, Cyn, César, Víctor G, Víctor Ch, Hans, Gabs, Mark, Sprizouse, Sonia, Skylar, Yiyo, Li, Fran, Vielka, María Julia, Gis, Adry and my family.

I love you all, please never, never forget that.

I'm tempted to start calling my journal and blogs "bitch-othèque" or maybe a bit less "slangish", "complain-othèque". Why? Well, they are becoming a collection of all my complains and all the fume I have to steam out from time to time. Up to some weeks ago my complaining usually moved on the circles of : "WORK" (this being my main topic of complain, and will continue to be until people here smarten up and develop some sense of "shame" that will force them to quit the jobs for which they are so unadequate and let those who do know how to do things, do things.) and "Friends", a general cathegory where from time to time a head popped up and I would make a nasty remark like: "dude, mind your words" or "come on bitch, just pay some fucking attention every now and then to what you are doing!", peppered around with soft comments like "hey, you missed Halloween by 6 months! what the fuck are you wearing?" and "no, you are not Giorgo Armani, you can't invent fashion... and not even him would dare to put up that RAG for any other thing than car-polishing!". Of course, there's the trademark "world, social and economics bitching", where I lift an article from a paper, which no one has read but me, and unload a few scattered thought about the subject onto you, but that's pretty much bitching as well. There's eventual psedo-philosophy, "philosophy" and "mothering", which is something you should thank to my biological clock. Yes, I was build with one of those, and it's shrieking inside me like a bitch! (Does anyone knows how to turn it down?)

Since I have been (rightfully) bitching about work quite sometime now, I'll keep it out of today's entry (besides I just spit my daily share on Hókisasszony). One thing that hasn't happened since the tragic days of "Get As Far As You Can From The Whore", is when a particular someone raises up among the lines of the "Friend" category to get a category for themselves. I've got one of those not too long ago. Man, they can be annoying! This... "friend" is as tremendously anoying and as problematic, unethical and unbelievable as the former U.S. A.G Alberto Gonzales. Do you remember that one? Sure you do. I know I do, because I hated his guts with passion. Well, when it came to bitching about him, it was no longer a generic tab of "politics" or "justice", not even "Attorney General", but "Alberto 'No-Shame' Gonzales". Mr. Gonzales was spineless and was best known for the worse human feature I can think of, a terrible character flaw: "loyalty to people". But not "people" as, fuck you are loyal to your people, your nation, your etnicity, your social, national, religious, whateverous group. No, he was loyal to a person: Mr. Bush, and that loyalty was his doom, because he never thought for himself, he never questioned, he never put his own mind to work, he never moved a finger by his own conviction, but everything went on because his "boss" told him to do this or that. Ask why? Nooooooo! What for? Daddy Bush would keep him from harm. You know, this kind of behavior has a name. Well, actually PEOPLE behaving like that have a name. They are called SLAVES. That that's a way to guarantee survival? For a Latinamerican it is a SHAME to choose slavery when one famous quote is taught to us from México to Argentina:

"Es mejor morir de pie que vivir de rodillas." (It is better to die on your feet that live on your knees.) Emiliano Zapata

So, does any Latinamerican has the right to choose slavery? Does any Latinamerican has the FACE to live like a vermin? But this isn't about A. Gonzales only. Oh no, for I have had the misfortune of knowing so many people who are just like this man. The Whore and the Corpse were (and still are, I believe) such low class people, that they couldn't function by themselves. They literally lived out of their friends. They took from them to support their financial lives, their social lives and also to ground their images of self. A lot can be said of these human wrecks, which I won't go on repeating now, since it's entirely pointless. However, after I was happy knowing them behind me, and I also managed recently to shake off my tail some annoying "girls" who also wanted desperately to live my life, and not by them, but they wanted every one of my experiences so they could "live them" because, really, they were both so "life-challenged" and so handicapped to ACTUALLY make an existence for themselves, they took on the best thing they could find... and I was the one awarded with such dubious honor (they were like little, virtual version of the whore, who ditto-me). I, however, sensed the presence of "rotten apples" in my friend basket. And indeed I had a nasty chunck of decomposed thing. My friend? Started like a friend, but quickly slid lower. Mistake one? Masking of self. Yo, if you are ok, why do you need to hide yourself? If you are what you say you are, why do you hide your self (or lack of it) from others? Not like it matters, I'm a scientist, and research is what I do. So I did my homework and got some interesting data, which allowed me to place things in perspective. My hypothesis (since I still don't have enough data, and have not made the necessary experiments, though I1m working on them) is that this is also a corpse-whore. Holy fuck! why do I always run into the wrong people? Oh well, what to do? The usual: smile and take a step back. Smile, smile and slowly walk away. Have been doing it. Does R.A. (rotten apple) know? Oh sure! That what keeps it so upset all the time. Bonkers! Another friend going away! Must be terrible.

I've been wondering whether some people do read my posts or not. Why? Well, if you watch carefully, my latest post was about how TACKY I find quota-parties. That was posted on the 22nd. Little after I received YET ANOTHER invitation for a quota-party, and this one is really some low-profile, low-scale, homemade, nothing special about it at all, "improvised" almost. How much is the quota? Oh, the amount hasn't been disclosed yet.

This kind of parties upset me terribly because I can't shake off the feeling that people make this kind of parties to profit. They spend X, charge X+Y or even 3X and keep the rest. Dude, if they can't support themselves, they shouldn't be throwing parties or making their friends and family pay for their unability to get a living. Get a better job, cut expenses, live rationally, get real with your life, spend only on what you can afford. Thsi attitude is so A. Gonzales: "my friends are there to help me out". No dude, like I said recently, friendship doesn't cover immaturity, financial, social or psychological problems. Each person should take care of their own problems and issues, and bitching about how "real friends" have to be "there to help you in need", that "allegedly" you give everything for them and you "expect them" to give you the same. Dude, you don't know what friends are, nor you have any.

This kind of people tend to "have a lot of friends", like the kind that keeps a profile on hi5, Facebook, myspace or any other social network and live to push the number up. Talks about "how many friends" they "have", what a great social life they have... and oddly have an interesting tendency towards pulling people into their nest. What do I mean? Friends go to their house or their office or that place they pic each time. Sure they go to their friends' place too, when within range, and actually demand to be invited and hosted, but their general set of mind goes around their comfort and the need to feel that they "control" their friends: they can make them leave their homes and offices, give up their favorite spaces in order to accomodate them. These people also tend to regard their friends as their "family", yet usually their relationship with their real family is dysfunctional to say the least. So, they have no real sense of "family", and consider "financial and emotional spoiling" as the role of the family. Yes, spoil not support. For them "family" is their mean to live and exist, the source from which they can take the kind of life they want for themselves, no effort from their part made, since they want to think they "deserve it". They don't think by themselves that they do, but they want others to think they do. Of course, there are psychotic cases where the convince themselves that they do deserve to be paid for by others and demand it.

You may ask: why don't they get a job and make a living for themselves? Well, they don't because deep down they are convinced that they can't do it by themselves. So either they remain unemployed, or are unable to keep a job long enough, are unable to study a career, and even if they do, they make sure it doesn't work. They make sure they have to resource to their friends. The logic is simple: they are unable to love themselves, so they need to feel loved by the others, and the more people love them, and the more people love them, the "better" they feel, the more they can ignore the fact that they don't love themselves. But how to measure "love" for those who don't know love? By external signs, and usually things like "money given or spent on them" or "number of affirmative answers to their stuff", "number of cases of agreement on arguments" are the "tokens of love" they collect. If you don't give them money or don't buy them what they want, you don't love them. If you don't pay for them, you don't love them. If you don't agree with them on every single thing, you don't love them. Funny thing is that you may have started feeling love for them or at least care, but this constant demanding of stuff, the temper tantrums and childish, immature behavior simply spoils the whole thing and ends up tearing you appart from them.

I won't go detailing the loads of crap I've been fed by my so called friends, some of wish defy the laws of reason far beyond kafkan proportions. But what is friendship really about? Each friendship is different, but basically friendship is loving someone, be concerned about that person and have the trust and the freedom to be real. Friends are the marvelous people who knows you for who you are, and they may not agree with you, and may get into your hair and bitch about some things you do, but they are with you and accept you as you are, and love you for who you are, and may not buy you anything for your birthday, may even forget it, but still smile at you and hug you (if they are that physical) when in October they realize you turned 30 in April. They may not answer all your SMS but be glad you succeeded on that test you were taking for the fifth time. They may hate your dog and even tell you so, but wouldn't mind sharing a drink, a cookie, a movie, a t-shirt with you. They may not know which is your favorite color, but they feel free to tell you that they hate the one you like, and do it with a smile, which you share.

A friend is someone who shares feelings with you, maybe not about your life but about the relationship between the two of you, and smiles honestly at you.

And about those others, why do we keep up with them?

O_O

Haven't you heard? We don't. Friendships can be broken, finished, ended, terminated. ^_^ That's the best thing of it! Yeah, you don't actually have to keep carrying with a drag! And good thing is that, if you don't want a big scene (which in the case of these "friends" is a very real possibility), then you just slide, slide, slide away... ^_^

P.D.: don't tell me you feel cheated for the "Nuke smooching" picture!?

Lessons of Proper

A lesson hard for me to learn is to "accept" or simply "tolerate" that there's people sharing the air and the Earth with me, who have so little sense of self, style or what I consider to be the basic rules of civilized behavior. Granted, I break those rules as well, but at least I do my best to keep within them. Yeah, sometimes I'm sloppy wheh I eat and the tomato falls of the buschettas I intend to eat, or I forget of myself, and read an SMS sent to me when I'm talking to someone else, or I forget that only because the person I'm talking to is disregarding the basic norms of courtesy, I take to myself to go ahead and forget of mine, while I should really stick to them no matter what. However, I know, rationally I know (and mainly because that's what every media source pours on us) that I should be accepting the fatc that there is uncivilized people, who thinks that "manners" are just a fancy word to design a group of actions and a way of behaving you take what you want to get something from someone. Of course there are different kinds of manners, and not all books of etiquette agree on the same things, and hell, I'm not even talking of etiquette when I admit I'm the less adequate in that area! I can hardly find myself around more than one fork, and when I see so many cuttlery on the table, I remember my mother's angry mumbling: "Capitalist pigs' behavior!" and "Krőzus!". Not like Socialist societies are not well mannered, but they are simply not elitist. I am, so there I go building up a whole system from scratch, fitting in elements from my own education.

There's a lot you go picking up from friends and acquintances, and God has blessed me with friends who have taught me a lot, and a family that has also given me good basis (even if I don't hit the measure with my Grandfather....). Among the things I have learned are:

1. Your guests are your full responsability. You are responsible of their constant entertainment, and well being while you host for them. They shan't move a finger to help, nor with cleaning, nor with arranging, nor with money. You must treat them like kings and queens and supply them everything they could need before they ask for it. If the have to ask for something (save the bathroom) you are not being a good enough host. If they have to bring something for their use (save absolutely personal stuff), you are not being a good host. Also, if you are a guest and you are to stay over and you bring something that could be supplied by your hosts, say a towel, or a blanket, you are offending them, because you are saying that you think they are simply not good enough to meet your needs. If you accept someone's hospitality, you must accept it in their terms. You don't ask, you don't bring, you don't rub your lifestyle in their nose.
2. A person must show cultural knowledge in philosophy, politics, art, wines and contemporary humanity. It doesn't mean to be fully lectured in all topics, though that's desirable, nor it means you have to exhaust them thought a conversartion, but these are the milestones of an intelligent conversation.
3. One must be always gathered and stay away from tacky comments, express one's ideas clearly and be open to discussion, defending one's position with rational, reasonable, well thought arguments, never hearsays or "X said so", and if one can't deffend one's position any longer, graciously decline and recognize the other party's better argumenting. Yet do it always in a gathered way.

The life we normally lead here detours us often to less proper ways, and well, it's not really okay, but maybe a little "leger" can be excused. Go a bit hectic, a bit "décontracté", a bit eclectic and give a bit more for freedom without really hurting basic courtesy. However, as life goes by, and as the middle class manners and the cheap "burgeois", and "new rich" style comes up, sickening manners take stage. An example of this are the "quota-parties". What is this?

Quota-Parties. Someone wants to throw a party for whatever reason. Mostly Baby Showers, bachelorette parties, wedding parties and all that useless crap. The latest trend in here is to send the invitation indicating the amount to pay. Oh, and over it comes the present. Aside from this breaking all the rules of hosting, I can't see why you must make a party that others will pay for you. If you can't afford it, don't organize it. A quota-party is basically as tasteless as telling your friends the kind of party you want for yourself, invite them with the implicit request of a present AND on top of that telling them all, that they are to pay for your party. Evidently, it would outrage anyone with a minimal sense of décor.

To my ultimate horror, this kind of party has become the norm. Some people even go as far as to put up "gift lists", withthe excuse of "making sure no one gives you the same thing more than once", or "so people give me what I want" or "make sure things go well with each other. Excuse me, but my common sense would tell me that if I'm so picky about things, I rather buy them myself and then kindly request my guests to please give me no presents, letting them know that their presence is all I want, or making sure the word goes around that I have bought everything, so greeting cards, sweets, wine, books and flowers will do. Or simply, get my things, and smile at the gifts I receive, whether I like them or not. So you get three irons and four wafflers. Well, you can always place them in the market, now don't you? Discreetly, of course, or give them away to charity. Sure a Church near you would know a lovely, family who could profit from it.

However, these things, this behavior is pety and disgusting. No self respecting person would conciously go into things like that, unless, of course, they are left with no dignity, and really, people with no dignity, with no pride are better of dead.



Saturday I took a break from the thesis researching in the afternoon, and headed to the movies. Nothing really in mind, but after talking to my youngest "son", Caesar, I kinda felt like going all the way to Escazú and watch this Viggo Mortensen movie called "Eastern Promises" (which I had already seen in DVD, and which I saw up to 2/3 while waiting for Shimmy Gin the other day). I knew my kid was there with his BF, ready to watch Mamma Mía, and I kinda felt really out of place, since it really, really felt liek crashing on their date, THOUGHT I was going to watch a completely different movie. Well Eastern Promises wasn't on schedule by the time I've got there, and though my son-in-law invited me to go with them to watch Mamma Mía (which thankfully was sold out), I ended up watching "I gonna MELT" Liam Neeson in Taken. The movie is hideous, I'm sorry to say that. Has a lot of good chunks and ideas, but it was poorly developped, which I would have never expected from a movie which had the colaboration of Luc Besson (Transporter, Transporter 2, Léon, Nikita, Banlieue 13, Kiss of the Dragon), BUT it has Liam "Hot Daddy" Neeson, so who is complaining!? ^_^ After the movies I ran som errands, checked with the boys (who were still in the movie theatre), and just when I was to sit on the floor and check books on the French aisle of my favorite Bookstore (there go my manners in favor of the more "hippy" attitude), I received "the call".

"Where are you?"

Well, I was lusting after Albert Camus and his "pest", but explaingi that would either be futile or regarded as unnecessarily snobish. (Usually I stare at these books and secretly read chunks of it, just to get the taste before I allow myself to fall into the temptation of buying them. Most of these are already in our library in Spanish, but the taste of French is so seductive, more than once I have walked out of the bookstore with an armfull of French books.) So I left my haven and went to my son and son-in-law. I did found it strange that they weren't together, but then I guessed my boy went to use the facilites. Two hours with coke and popcorn tend to do that. I was ready just to greet and flee, imagining my son was going to spend the night with his man, but to my surprise, it was "bye-bye" time for them. Uhh... something wrong, my children? Cryptic talking, pent up mood covered with a stretched thin smile. My boy was sent home by his man with a handshake. I couldn't stop but wonder if that handshake would be in place also if gay couples were as acepted as straight couples.

The day before I had a lovely meeting with my son-in-law, from whom I learned that he was not willing to educate my son, which was what I was hoping for. I knew he was going to confront him and test him to decide whether to keep him or discard him, and given the fact that my son was so happy about him, I wished with all my heart that he would keep him. Hope against all hope, for everything pointed towards my child's discarding. In a way, I checked up with both that day because I felt urged to make sure my kid is fine. Yeah, there goes the overprotective mother. Good thing I have not given birth to him, or I would suffocate him! In all honesty I feared my child was hurt, and something in his voice told me he wasn't fine. He told me he was tired, yet I still feared the confrontation went pear shaped for my boy. So, and knowing that my son-in-law's main complains with my son are his manners and his lack of class, I've decided to take to myself the parent role, the "master" role and start teaching my son on the proper ways of "class". It's not the first time I impart lessons on this subject, so I have a well honed way to do so. I told my child I'd love to go eat. He claimed not to be hungry, but he would go with me and maybe get a beverage. I smiled hiding a smirk. Things were about so slowly change, if I've got my way.

He went to the Food Court, but I detoured giving him his first lesson: "if one can, one shall rather eat in a decent place, not with the mob." We went thus to La Trattoria, where I ordered bruschettas and two glasses of red wine. I straightened my spine instinctively and brought my voice down a bit, somewhat lower and deeper that my chirper tone. I picked the wine, Chilean wine, and when the waiter was gone, I turned to my child ans seriously told him:

"One important thing you should know about wines is that Italian wines are bad. One must drink only French, Hungarian, Chilean, Argentinian or Spanish. And I'm not even so sure about Spanish."

We chatted a little and I made sure to use only proper words, chosing "gentleman" instead of the more coloquial "dude", when refering to some men I have met through my life. As the wine arrived, he was surprised it wasn't chilled, so I went explaining him a few things and taught him the basics of wine tasting. To my delight, the conversation elevated and we talked several topics on different opinion and human matters, which also allowed me to start planting in my son's mind some of the seeds of my own education. The night was love, and splendor. I worked to rip him away from his need to control his money, and did it, by taking the bill in each available chance with a smile, not looking at the amounts.

"Nonsense, Darling. Let your mother take care of this..."

I can't asure that my child has changed, since I know the process takes time, but it has pleased me greatly to see him elevate, in that moment, to a more relaxed, free and more intellectually open man, rather than the child soaked in the toxic ways of his environment, poisoned with money-hunger and senseless, pointless drama.

By today I sat down and thought: "I am not his real mother, and I should not be trying to influence him to live his life my way. He hasn't asked me to change him and so I shouldn't". But I must admit, that the prospect of helping my child to become a quality man who will stand his ground, pick and fight his battles and who will never be discarded on the grounds of his manners, but rather admired... is ever so seductive...

Vraiment « Décontracté »

Si mon français était mieux et mon clavier aurai tous les lettres et signes qu'on a bésoin de pour écrire en français, aujourd'hui j'écrirais mon entré en ce langue. Alors, comme mon français c'est vraiment pauvre, et aussi mon clavier hongrois, je va écrire, encore une fois en anglais.

Yes, yes, you are lucky and I'm feeling a bit..."bummed" that my French is still not enough for me to compose a decent, inspired, well written entry. I should really go back to pump it up to a nice, cool, decent level, but right now my mind is kind of on something else. Dude, something entirely else. First of all, I'm LOADED with coke-energy! Weeeeeeee-Heeeeeeee! Had a great Bagel-brealfast, and also pushed up working on the thesis. Got quite a break (well, quite compared to what we've got so far, which is basically ZILCH), and a part of it was thanks to the invaluable help of my one and only, beloved Brother. Man, I love my Brother so much! He's truly and honestly the best, even if back in time I wanted to get rid of him. My Brother is the coolest, best and greatest SIBLING in the whole wide universe. He's so cool, so cool, I actually pity the world for not having a brother as cool as my Brother. Dude, now that I think about it, my birth was kind of unfair for the world. I mean, I have a great mind, great looks, terrific personality, the best of nationalities, all the chances in the world, the greatest of careers, the best of friends and the best brother ever! Not to mention all these paired up with great parents, mindblowing analitical and creative skills, taste, sensitivity and a winner attitude.

I hope great features have many, many samples, otherwise... I've got the best of the world. Oh well, those less fortunate can always look up to me and daydream being me. ^_^

So, great break on the thesis. Hopefully the teacher-adviser will get it in time for tomorrow, to check it out and tell us whether we are heading down the right path or not. (Today after ages and ages of seeking, I've finally found the site of INCOPESCA!) It was a tricky one, but I made it. The "there waiting for me" book I've-almost-discarded-as-useless has proven to be more useful than I have thought. For instance, I had no idea that a lot of the fishes caught are discarded because they lack commercial value, or because fishers prefer to fill their limited onboard container space with more lucrative species. Naturally, that usually means that after the nets are gathered, a lot of dead fish get back to the ocean. Sure that ain't good, but then again these people are poor people, and they really have to decided whether to fill their containters with shrimps and fishes that can bring more bread to the table or go for what they can get in the shorter periods of time possible. A question arise to my mind now: boats gara move with some kind of fuel, and all these people are really, really poor people. No money for school or anything, so how are the fuel prices affecting them? Sure it does affect the time they spend on the sea, as well as how deep they can go, how far, and therefore, the fish-mix they get and the income product of it.

Anyway... anyway...

Anyway I was going to talk about something else, but don't really feel like it anymore. That's what happens when you don't finish a post at once.

I was... feeling like talking about style. Partly because I wished to "de-clutter" my mind from unpleasant topics, and partly because I was running on a coke-rush. Of course, at this time I'm more like "FUCK! What was I thinking! I gara finish this and that!" Which... ain't so lost in time, only I'd love to understand what has possessed me to decide to build it up on pps rather than ... doc... and leave the doc bones done. Sometimes I really have a difficult time understanding myself. Oh, no biggie, really. I may have to cancel some "after work appointments" in order to go home and make it in time, but nothing that "deadly".

This time, talking about "style" comes around the idea of talking about "space". It's truly hard for me to find on the net pictures of the kind of space that pleases me, but when I happened upon this picture, I found myself nodding. I wouldn't use a cow-fur rug, even if the pattern gives the precise "décontracté" air I love, mainly because I do not like that kind of pattern much, and I don't want my livingroom looking like some ranch inhabited by cowboys, and the "all the same whitish coloured walls" are not me either, but picture the structure. Cozy, eficient space use, making some sourt of "nukes", filled with soft furnitures and all kinds of soft textures... just add some tobacco or Siam cat brown to the walls, framed, large Art Nouveau paintings, black-n-white pictures on the side table, a long standing lamp and a beautiful Art Nouveau inspired lamp on a table. Velvet cushions in green, brown and silver and a whole air breathing a carefree spirit living in the middle of beauty and sophistication. Leather bound books where and there, soft jazz music pouring from some unseen sound equipment, more like someone practicing, rought in silence, like talking from an old record rather than disco-like surround system. Unseen tv... unseen modern appliances. Everything scratching and holding into the beginings of the XXth century. Wood and craftmanship. Nature and human forms flwoing together, relaxed and free. Drop your baggage carelessly and fill your lungs with air, shake your wings and fly, tiptoeing on the clounds and the grassblades.

That's the way my home feels. That's what I wish to fervently to go home.

Letter To My Child

My Dear Dove,

First of all, "Mago de Oz" ain't half as bad as I thought it would be. Definitively, as humans, we shall give a change to different things, try them out, open ourselves to experience, and learn, swell with knowledge before we formulate and pass judgment. Like in a court, one must always hear the pros, the cons and weight the statements with evidence. Patience and eager learning are vital through life, since only experience will allow you to find your way around all presented evidence to select those that prove valid, those that can convince you, those in which you can place your trust. Not all words and all facts are solid evidence to decide on a way or another. Like a sword, all things brought up as evidence need perfecting, moulding, work to become trustable. A man's word and character above all of them. My Sweet Breath, actions, consistency, temper, determination and above all of them, sense of self are the beats and the hammer that turn the steel of your humanity into the fine sword of trust. Know yourself, be proud of your choices and yourself, humble with your mistakes, and swift in correcting your flaws, but always true to yourself, the one you feel you are, not the one others wish you to be, or tell you to be.

Live, my Darling, with no regrets, take to your heart all the joy the world have to offer, and take the time to swim in the little joys and little pleasures of life, and don't discard them. Happiness is like the wildflowers you find in the field: maybe one of them is too little, but if you take the time to pay attention, isn't the myriad of them, scattered ever so happy and colorful across the meadows and hills one of the most beautiful sights you can imagine? And so, my Child, is happiness. If you stop for a moment and live each happy moment, soon you will realize happiness has permanently moved into your life, and so, you'll also be able to enjoy the bigger joys of life as well.

There's people out there who will always live displeased, dissatisfied with their lives and what they get. Please take your time and watch them. Watch them carefully, study them, concentrate on their characteristics and learn from them, so you learn to avoid the mistakes they make, so that their miserable experience becomes your learning ground. Burn their misery, the sick feeling peeling from them in your mind and never forget it, so you think twice before detouring to their path. Watch, my love, how their daily bread is hopelessness and their wine the fruitless complaining. The hope is born from within your heart and fed by your determination and your actions, but so is hopelessness. There's absolutely nothing bad with breaking down and cry. Nothing wrong with getting angry and shout. If tears ever touch your lids, cry them. Bawl until your eyes puff and fall out, and if frustration becomes too great, anger too overwhelming, howl, scream, punch walls, shout at people and curse the world into the deepest, darkest, stinkiest pit of hell. But when the storm has winded off inside you, after you have vented, seek solutions. Problems are not to stay alone, but all of them must be paired with solutions, so balance them out. Pretend not that things will solve themselves, or that complaining is solution enough. That attitude is what separates happy, satisfied people from the miserable scum that crawls in the dark corners of existence.

Be analytical and realistic: solve the things you can solve, but those that do not depend on you, leave to God and don't even worry about them. Trust your mother: God knows better. You couldn't leave your issues in better hands, so what would be the point of worrying? Would you think that God, being God, would not be capable of solving the stuff you nicely ask him to do? Perhaps you don't trust Him? If you don't, I have not done a good job at raising you.

There would be loads of things I would like to tell you, but all those will come in time.

Three things I have filtered down to common wisdom in these days, which I wish to share with you, so you can profit from them, and think about them. Consider them the "Human Thesis" of your old mother.

#1: "Lo corriente de las personas no está en las palabras, sino en la actitud."

Meaning, that you must learn to value people not by a bit of their selves, but by the whole package. Words can be changed in seconds, ways of speaking changed at will from a moment to other, for a joke or a serious circumstance. A man can be a pig with his friends at a pub in a minute, and a fine gentleman in a diplomatic meeting in the next, but the core, the attitude can hardly be masked or changed. That's what matters. Learn, my Child, to value people not by their surface, but for what your heart and experience tells you, are the milestones of character.

#2: "Hay una diferencia radical entre Tolerancia y Alcahuetería."

Learn to discriminate between the things that deserve tolerance and those that are not. Learn tolerance to the differences of people, tolerate the different faces of human condition: politics, religion, orientation, believes, preferences... but deny tolerance to flaws. Laziness, incompetence, stupidity, violence, discrimination, debasing, corruption, mindlessness, ill behavior, character flaws. Tolerance shall never mean, either to give up or sacrifice yourself or your interests for those of someone else. Tolerance shall always be mutual. If someone or something you consider, you shall tolerate does not tolerate you for who you are, what you do or what you believe in, sever the connection and walk aways. You must learn to pick your battles as well, my Dear.

#3: "You are a Member of Society, not its Slave."

Yes, we live in society, but that does not mean you must sacrifice your individuality to please it. Follow the social rules that make the communal living easier, but do not subject yourself to all its demands or you will lose everything, and society will never replace your loss. You, my Baby, are responsible of your own happiness, so take it, don't pursue it: HAVE IT. PROCURE IT. As you start your actions, you step into an eternal domino game where all moves will ripple and have consequences. Be aware of them, shoulder them, learn from them and learn to turn them to your advantage. Lead your life because you are the only one living it, so only you can do it. Ignore all of society's expectations to your life, and live by your owns, for only that way you will be happy. Marry and have kids if you feel so. Drink, smoke and have sex only if you feel like it. Kiss, laugh, sing or dance when you see it fit. Chose, keep and discard your friends by your own standards and for your own reasons. Justify yourself before no one but yourself. Learn to watch and listen. People will always have an opinion about you and your life, your things and actions, you may listen to them if you feel like it, but know that those are opinions of outsiders, and the weight you place on them depends entirely on you. And no matter who says what, in the end the only opinion that matters is yours, for even if you decide to consider someone else's opinion, it is your opinion of accepting that information as valid what prevails.

Whether you die old or your, My Beautiful Dove, all that matters to me is that you live your time here as happily and satisfied as possible.

Loves You ever so Deeply,

Anya.

Mah Dream Phone

Phones and I have a very particular relationship, you see. Even though I work at a telco, and I worked for the longest time at the Mobile Division (until some smart ass thought there was no need for "product-lead divisions") I always had difficulty deciding which is the coolest phone for my taste. I've seen the longest parade of mobile phones ever, either because my coworkers had the compulsive need to change their phones every three months (while people in the country change it every 18 months, 12 months for the more "hip"), or because we had presentations and pilot plans with all kinds of ne devices. Slowly these toys and thingies, which capture everybody's attention, started to leave me cold, much like it happened with cash after I worked at the bank. No matter what new, fancy little feature they had, it wasn't that much of a deal for me. Even when the iPhone made a hit, for me it was a slab, a flat, glass-like brick that disn't do much for me. Sure, I used it in a fic titled "Scholomance" (really cool), but still, it wasn't mah ride. I wanted something in the line of the blackberry's but without looking like I was talking to a notebook.

I first noticed this handsome contraption in the movie "The Devil Wears Prada". May, I wanted that cute little phone Andrea was carrying around! Tried to read the brand but there was none. Oh, what should I do? I have this Sony Ericsson thingie... of which I have seen at least FIVE in the office, same color and all, and I'm not much attached to it. Works better than my useless iPod, that's for sure, and it's my first clam-phone... and I'm not crazy for clam phones. I bought it as my "emergency situation" phone, since I lost my phone on the plane in Caracas... so I do needed something to communicate, and this was like the first, cheapest thing available that had what I needed. However, even before I bought it I made plans to change it for something much more to my liking (which includes all features in Hungarian) on December when I go home. But what was I going to purchase for meself? ^_^ Now I know: Andy's phone. ^_^

To my delight, I discovered that I can actually personalize the skin of my sidekick with an online tool, which I just did, as you can see in the picture above. You don't have to like it, but I LOVE IT!

I guess this means I've found my phone.

Stuff

Yes, stuff, so let's get "stuffing".

# There IS some kind of instant-karma going around here. After I was bitching to my friend Ivan over lunch... AT 18 h!!!!! about the bunch of retarded motherfuckers I'm surrounded by, today "someone" tried to FORCE ME to take the Institutional Driving Test so I'll get an Institutional Driving License. Well, no fucking shit I'll do so, and so I told 'im:

"Nope."
"Hahaha! No, do you have the regular Driving License?"
"I do, but I won't get the Institutional one."
"Why?"

My eyebrows hit the ceiling in admiration.

"Well, because I just don't feel like adding to my daily work share having to worry for the Institutional car and playing "mechanic" every single time I'm going to a meeting and stuff. I don't want to be held accountable for any accident, any dent, any mechanical problem and having to PAY for the motherfucking car and then WAIT for a motherfucking comitee to decide whether that expense should be covered by me or the Institution. Add to it, I'm nobody's driver."

Pause. Horror in the eyes.

"Well... how will you go from one place to the other, huh?"

No, really.

"Well, there are these things called 'cabs', which I can pay with the Institutional card..."
"Well... well... they are eliminating that! you will have to use the Institutional car!"

My wicked, smartass smirk.

"Well, then either YOU drive me, or I don't go."

Hehehehe... how you like that, bitch. I1m nopt being intimidated, and less my some half-brained snotfaced little fucker full of crap.

# Well, my dear friend Ivan is HACKING me empathically, so thakn you my darling, yes I can feel just how the fucking MUCH you love Al-kun. Now that I have sensed this huge and drowning love with me, so christian of you, thank you, MAY I GO BACK TO WORK??? I thought I would never say this again, but FUCK I hate being empathic sometimes. ESP is a curse (right now).

# Wanna stop coughing. Any ideas?

# Have never been so fucking annoyed with my job. And I mean it. Nothing motivates me to the point that though I have stuff to do, I constantly feel sleepy, moody and don't really feel like doing it, even if earlier this year I was looking forward to it. I'm just no longer motivated. Shit, I'd like to quit this job so bad... Not like I would, because I'm actually rational regarding that, but I just no longer feel right here. It's upsetting, because I've been here like five years now in October,a nd yet I feel more belonging to my old job... where I worked my ass off for two years. Ain't like I'm ungrateful, but really, try working here, in this still environment. Talking yesterday with Ivan, he told me he believed I was here to learn "tolerance". Dude, I'm learning how to get emotionally and mentally SICK. Truth is, I don't want to end up like the 99,9% of people here from whom I have heard these "good advises":

"Oh, it's okay! Eventually you'll learn not to care. Doing a crappy job isn't so bad, and you still get paid the same. So why to bother? Give your minimum or less and stop worrying or you'll get yourself sick."

"Just tell them what they want to hear. Nobody wants to hear the truth.. and besides, the truth is not polite. So lie."

No, I'm not making this up: this is REAL.

# I developed my maternal instinct... again. Now I'm mothering Pyro, not the X-Men (I wasn't aware there was a cartoon with that name, when I named Al-kun that way), but... Al-kun. Why? Well, maybe we should thank Ivan for that. Geez dude, THANK YOU! Goof thing I didn't have to give birth to him, and he's already old enough to (allegedly) take care of himself. Well, he is. Why am I mothering him? I just do. I just have this compelling need to make sure he's okay and happy, and then spend a fucking lot of time worrying about him, thinking about him and defending him. You stop pressing him so much, no you better don't leave him alone of he will feel at loss, you take good care of him, tell him I love him, make sure he eats his vegetables... is he eating fine? Do you think he's happy?

The boy has a kind soul, he really does, and I really, really love him so much after seeing so little of him, but I guess his inner self just linked with me, and now I find it difficult not to care for someone as sweet as he is. Rationally I'm full of doubts and suspicions about some things, sudden "bits of behavior" that eerily remind me of the corpses, but what presses my heart more is that I feel he's being chopped into a bonsai. I don't want people boinsaing up my child! Hell, he's my baby!

# There's something that's throwing me off balance. My foot is slipping and I can't gain my footage back as easily as I normally do. I do know what's off, what's growing aged, ill and corrupted in my life and soon it will be time to cast it away. I'm aware that I'll lose many things I love dearly, but nothing can meet up with my very self. Changes are to come in soon.

# Thesis. Gara speed up. To my surprise, Mile and I have an ally, a very valuable one. JJ. ^_^ This is it. A moment to be happy for the small blesing of ESP: I wish, I wish, I wish and I pray that my gut feeling comes true, that my instinctive vision becomes reality, and Mile and I graduate finally in April 2009. I'm working hard on it! ^_^

The Critic of The Best

Finally I get to write about this topic. Why now? Because though I do have a ton of work to do, I need to make a mental break so some bricks of this brief fall in place in my head before any more pointless comments and "ideas" from clueless sources start polluting again the environment. But let's leave this aside and concentrate on a little of philosophy.

There's usually this idea put in people's mind about being "The Best". The idea sold to everybody is that you MUST want to be the best, or know the best. Even when feeble speeches are brought up about "working together as a team" and so and "it's not winning what matters, but participating", it all sounds fake and unsubstantial, because we are still pushed towards "the best". So much the drive is in us that we even have idea of the "second best" embedded in our minds paired with the idea that we really don't want that, and if we get it, we are supposed to feel disappointed because it is not the best. It's just some "replacement" for it. We seek improvement to tend towards the best and constantly keep it in mind. Either we struggle to reach it and place our happiness there, thinking that said happiness can only be achieved when we reach that "the best" status, or we sadly look at this "best", do nothing to achieve it, but still place our happiness there and try to fool ourselves and "cope" with the idea that we will never be "really happy", but "oh well, it could be worse". It actually doesn't look like anything is wrong with this idea, and why should people stop themselves to be the best they can be, and push themselves to their limits and seek to overcome them? Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with that. Everything that improves and aids mankind to evolve is certainly desirable. Sure, there's a question about "where" are we evolving, but let's not go there now.

This is the year of the Olympic Games, and what we see? The best athletes competing. The best in each discipline is praised and celebrated, and his or her example serves as inspiration for the others to improve themselves. In a way, you could say that witnessing these "bests" show you the limits mankind can reach, and at the same time it sets a limit you can try to break and overcome. Is there something bad about it? Seemingly not. However recently I witnessed two cases which made me think about the focus this "the best" business is taking. One of them was during the first part of this absolutely useless "Negotiation Workshop" given by a branch of Harvard. There in one of the planned kindergarden-like activities, we were assorted randomly into teams, which represented an oil exporting country. Each of us had to decide on a "goal" for our country's Foreign Trade Politics, so to say. Every group picked (all secretly) to be "the best". My team was going to pick that goal as well, but I quickly talked them out of the idea. At the end, we were actually the ONLY country that reached their goal, though our goal wasn't "accepted" by the instructor, who was supposed to be impartial in the matter. Why? Because our goal should have been the instinctive goal of all the others: "be the best".

Much more recently, the first time I met this incredibly handsome and lovely and adorable and cute and sweet and gentle kid, Cesar, he told me, out of the blue as if it was a job interview or a profile reading, that his goal in life was to be "the best" in everything. Like the lightening, it struck me that that was wrong and he was in for great sorrow, disappointment and eternal chasing of fake happiness. To explain him that while we were dancing on the packed floor of the rickety, third-class bar where we were was pointless. Furthermore, I was just meeting him, and showering him with loads of existentialist philosophy wasn't going to do the trick.

It was from that night on that the need to write this critic began.

The very concept of "The Best" implies two things: ONE, you must compare yourself with others and TWO, in order to achieve or keep this "title" you must compete with others. Therefore, the very concept of "best" implies stepping into a relationship of dependence, since you must belong to an area, where you expect to become "the best" and within it, you depend on all the others included or enrolled in it, turning all their efforts to achieve the same title into negative points towards you. In other words, simply seen, the improvement of others works against you. Naturally, you can say that the higher the bar is placed, the better for you because you will work harder and reach higher levels as well. On the same line, if all the others do not push hard enough reaching the title of "the best" would really be meaningless, since it is all submerged in an environment of incompetence or mediocrity. Then again, an element seeking to be the best in a mediocre environment could very well do the job of pushing up the bar to new heights to which all the others should measure up to, and so improve the given area. But then again, these cases are so rare that they make it into the history books... assuming said improver isn't first exterminated by the mediocre environment. However, in the theoretical case of an element seeking to push up the bar to new heights, up to where must said element push it? Up to whatever its capabilities are? To its limits? A logical deduction which yet holds a huge void: and what path to follow? How do you know when you reach your limits? How hard shall you push before you destroy yourself in the process? Because the very idea embedded into "the best" is that "happiness", "fulfillment" is IN that state, but if you have no idea where is the limit, how do you know you reached it? When do you know you can rest? When do you allow yourself to be happy?

That's the key to my case: the chase and keep of "the best" assures people to never be happy. Within this believe, happiness is nothing but a "mirage" to keep people in motion. The status of "the best" can be achieved, but only by one or maybe a small handful of people, who are supposed to be happy, though once "up there" they find out that the place is empty, because now they have to keep running, and running into the dark, into the unknown because there's a herd behind them out to take away from them what they conquered. The hunter becomes prey. Like medieval kings, once they have the crown, they have to fend away all those who will go after their heads to take the crown. The old feeling of unfulfillment is traded for well justified paranoia. So the happiness enjoyed in those few seconds while the blood of the decapitated, deposed former "best" is still hot on their hands, escapes away, now with the undeniable knowledge that is gone for good, and to never be back. So I ask, is it worth it?

Once upon a time I had a dream about a place, like a whole world where people spoke with their minds, perhaps aided by half sounds that merely impulsed their words, like a remaining reflex from vocal communication. The skies were always bathed in dark shades of blood red and lined here and there with fire form a large column that broke from the earth and hit into this sky, from which it spread all over the world. There was no day or night, only this constant afternoon like state. There was no dimension of time, and though people were born, grew up and died, none of them kne what time was, nor was the concept in their vocabulary. No past tense, no future tense, not even "now". Not a word or a concept that would betray any sense of "time". Though they had wars with other tribes ever so often so they would live around the column of fire, a place of importance in this world, they lived with simplicity. There where no schedules, and people went to eat or sleep when they got hungry or tired. I was one among the "foreigners" of this world who was brought to help them win the war as a soldier. This dream is of importance for this topic because of something one of my comrades said. He was a young man from a country highly industrialized, who praised evolution. His mind was quick for improvement and technology, but dead for understanding and tolerance of different ways. It happened that there was this young man washing some clothes in a basin and this comrade of mine approached him and told him about ways to make the task easier, faster and better. The native young man watched him startled and asked him:

"Why would I want to do that? This works just fine."

Exasperated, my comrade told him all the benefits of an ultramodern whirlpool: he could wash more clothes, he could let the machine do the work for him and above all, he would "save time". Knowing we came from a different universe, the young man was aware of this strange concept we had, but did not understand it. For him there was no sense in not washing his clothes when they were dirty, and why would he wash X pounds of clothes? None of them had more than one of two sets anyways? And why would they have more clothes? Furthermore, why would he want to do something else when we felt like washing his clothes? And what was time and what was the purpose of saving it?

Through witnessing that exchange I understood that technological evolution was overrated. Why should you upgrade from something that works just fine to begin with? The key here is to know what you need and stick to it. For that, however, you must get knowledge of who you are, and perhaps that's the trickiest part of the deal. While it is easy to set off in the competition to be "the best", because what you need to know is who are the others and MAYBE knowing who you are may play a part as a possible strategy to "win", with this other approach the key element is knowing who you are. Ancient wise phrases like "No one ever gets to know oneself entirely" may help to deter people from doing the effort or discard this philosophy ad portas as "humanly unable", but these would be conformist, comfortable, lazy approached to the subject. Different degrees of self-knowledge are not only possible but highly desirable as well. Then, by knowing yourself, knowing who you are in the different aspects of your life, or otherwise said, knowing your subject of study, it becomes easier to identify your real needs. When you do that, THEN you set yourself a personal goal. It if is difficult to reach at once, set for yourself gradual goals, sort of like "steps". In the same line as with my theory of the relationship between money and happiness, you pursue your goals up to the level where you feel satisfied.

Indeed you may have escalating goals, where each time you reach a new height which is supposed to make you happy, you may find new ways and unseen possibilities, which you can pursue... if it makes you happy. But if you have reached a goal and you, within yourself feel happy with it, why should you push further? Specially, by peer pressure. If it makes you happy to be a nurse, be happy when you become a nurse. Like the young man in my dream, there's nothing wrong in staying where you are happy: evolution doesn't make sense if it moves you from a happy state into one of constant chasing of mirages. Of course, this needs two very difficult skills: one is to be able to recognnize when you are happy and the other is to develop a strong sense of self to allow you to be true to yourself. You may be bent by the blizzard of peer pressure, there's nothing wrong with flirting with the idea, as long as your roots are firm an you can come back to your self, strong and wiser.

This is no self-help bullshit. No new age or Durkisti-Murusti or Whateverusti weird name these "I have the Secret of Happiness" gurus of deception have-stuff.

I consider myself existentialist within my individual philosophy, structuralist in my social and economical philosophy, and this is my very own self-developed branch of "neo-existentialist philosophy", so to call it. On the steps of Jean Paul Sartre, if what happens to you is entirely your fault, then this is how I propose you should so something about it: do not blame other for setting the bar or worsening your ranking. Do not place on others your values or your dependence, because by following the path of "the best" you have willingly resigned to the right to be happy. You have the right to "pursue" happiness, but you will never get to it. If the blame is yours, if the responsibility is yours, so is the choice, the right and the measure. Use it.

Outraged!

«Facebook also reserves the right to shut down accounts if users post fake names, write offensive messages or pull content from Facebook to post on a blog or Web site.»

No fucking shit! So «I», the CLIENT, the user, the reason why the exist and get MONEY (because if I as user weren't there would their advertisers invest money on them?) can't pull content from the Facebook for my blog, but Facebook and their advertizers can pull information about ME from it? Man, you are in for some shit storm...

Dreaming Lad - Poetry

No ray of the Sun

Is as warm as Your Smile

And no Moonshine

As bright as Your Eyes

And the Snowflakes may be

Gentle as they land

But never as gentle

As the soft touch of your hand

The rich rain may shower the trees

And yet never bath as thoroughly

As the warmth of your kiss

Or the knowing smirk of your lips.

An Interesting Blog, All In All

Since Yesterday I was thinking about this subject I wish to talk about, "what is being the best", but before I even start on that, I'd like to recommend a very interesting blotg I just happened upon this morning. This would be Erin Brockovich's Blog. Yes, the real Erin, not Julia Roberts. In the pictures she doesn't look half as trashy as Ms. Roberts did in the movie, but you van still see some of that. Maybe this is the case where "you can get the girl out of the trash, but you can't get the trash out of the girl". Makes you wonder, what's that one thing that can't be taken out of you, even if you remove yourself out of it.

Anyway, the trashy-lady is some big name now (hopefully she did go to the University and has her legal papers in order), and has gone still on the line of pointing her finger against big, harmful enterprises. The topic of the hexavalent chromium is something you will find scattered all over the place. Hey, it was the star of the movie! Anyways, there's this matter about Gardasil. What the fuck is that? Well, if you have cabel tv, like I do, and you watch American channels, like I do (the ones all in English with all the advertizing in English... save now that AMNET has decided to stick his nose in it and puts it's tacky commercials there... it's so disturbing...), you may have seen the advertising of a vaccine called "Gardasil". The idea behind it is to prevent HPV. No, not HIV, HPV, which stands for Human Papillomavirus. What's that? It's a sexually transmitted disease where the sexual organs get some very unpretty looking warts all over. In the case of women, this virus is quite dangerous, since if it gets to the cervix, it can produce or develop cervical cancer. Unpretty, huh? It ain't so bad for men, they just get the warts in the worst of cases.

Well, seeing how bad this is, Merck, Sharp and Dhome developped this Gardasil vaccine so women get protected from this virus. If you check with the FDA, the vaccine is approved and recommended to prevent the virus. Then you check with Ms. Brockovich and you find that Gardasil ain't that good at all. It does not prevent cervical cancer as it advertises, and add to it, it is dangerous. It is killing or maiming girls. Add to the good news, according to her, there's this fine piece of legislation being currently analyzed (or so I gathered) where there will be a roof put to the amount on demands that can be asked for in the cases of lawsuits against farmaceuticals for damages. What does that mean? It means that in a country like the U.S. where you are made paid LOADS of money for medical services and medications, if it turns out that the medications were making you sick, and you sue the company and you manage to win, they won't pay you back all you spent for their fault on doctors, medications and Hyne knows what else. No, they have a max summ they will pay you, and that's it. Dandy, huh?

Then again... is it true? It would certainly need more investigation, into which I have no time now whatsoever, but it is an interesting point. Perhaps someone would find other interesting things in her blog...

Ranting

Puta cochinada. Volvieron a pegar la cosa de los comentarios. Oh hijueputas más comemierda... como si con lo del Facebook no hubiera sido sufienciente. Bola de ineptos. Mae, si cambiamos a toda esa bola de imbéciles por una grapadora salimos ganando.

To K

All it's left for me
Is the Mirage
Of a Butterfly
On my lips.

Will I ever see You again,
Beautiful Golden Flake?

Some Have No Shame

Politics. This one is about politics, but I promise to keep it short! Ain't much what I have to say, because from politics it will flow into sex. Oh, don't give me that look! Sex and politics are far more interrelated (much to my regret) that you would think. So, how are we rocking this? Well class, please open your CNN news mail of the day and pick that funky little link about John McCain and Sarah Palin, you know, Sen. McCain's handpicked running mate for vicepresident. What about then? Well, it happens that Sen. Palin has this daughter, Bristol, 17 years old, who is pregnant. Yeah, another unmaried, knocked up teen. Everybody knows that Sen. McCain and Sen. Palin are Republican's right? The ultra conservative "we hate gays and everything that is not puritan christian" party, right? Well, imagine the shock of the party and the people when they found out that the POTENTIAL VICE PRESIDENT has such little control over her own family that she let her teen girl (with a name that sound more like a farmaceutical brand than a human name) get pregnant! and she's unmarried. Oh, but the papers made SURE to say that the baby's father WILL marry Bristol. Well, with a whole party making pressure over them, the poor fucker will have no other choice.

Trying to get a positive out of this, some lawmakers and senators that this actually make the Republican party more... "American" and brings it closer to the real life. Why? The Republican Party was far from America before? They pretended to live in an alternate universe? and they wanted to regulate the U.S, in this universe? Oh, how odd is that! Don't you find it so?

Look people, Bristol got horny, got a men and fucked. For some unknown reason, either they didn't used protection or the rubber was defective, or whatever method they where using made them part of "that other" percentage that doesn't get what they paid for. The kid, in a really stupid move, decided to keep the baby. Either she was forced to because an abortion would be a bigger scandal, or because ... who knows? She's 17 and it's her life being fucked up, not mine. And whatever circumstances that kid is coming to this world, well, it's their shit, not mine. I do believe the girl is way too young and she should have an abortion, both for herself and for the baby. Kids just don't deserve to have unprepared parents who might just blame them for cutting their lives and depriving them from a lot of cool experiences. Because lets be real: did Bristol wanted to become a mom at 17? I kinda doubt it a lot, but then again, today's youth is coming out really stupid, so maybe she does think she wants to be a mom. So why did she had sex? Well, dude, why do all of us have sex? Because it fucking feels good! Because it is tha shit! Yeah, yeah, some people do it to breed more people into this already overpopulated planet, but the vast majority of people fuck because it feels good.

Will her family support her? Well, the senator lady just gave birth to a Down syndrome child, and they are in campaing right now, so... it's gonna be a tough call.

However, one thing that surprised me is that this woman, Sen. Palin, representing Alaska (to my imperferct knowledge) said that the kind of sexual education she believes in and she supports is abstinence-only. Well, no fucking wonder her daughter got knocked up. Abstinence-only is a primitive, antinatural way of thinking where the point is to satanize (sorry, that's that they do) and supress a perfectly natural human instinct. There's no talk about contraceptive methods because "that puts ideas into kids". No condom giving away, because that's like giving kids a ticket to have sex. Give me a break. When people feel likt having sex, they WILL have sex, so, ain't better if they know how to protect themselves? Because Bristol only got pregnant, and she should consider herself lucky. What would have happened if she gets AIDS? So lets get a few things clear:

1. "virginity" IS NOT a "virtue". A virtue is a good feature of of you, like being hard working, honest, positive, respectful, gently, kind, tolerant, loving, capable of defending what you believe in.
2. Sex is not a dirty, bad thing, nor it is a sign of love. It is a antural instinct present in several species, ours among them, that may or may not end in pregnancy.
3. In a world of information, denying information is not a way to prevent something. People may go around it and find out things the bad way.
4. There's a reason for education, and that is to educate people. If you don't teach kids about proper safe sex, where do you expect them to learn that? At the church?

The topic of virginity always makes me mad. Why to prize a condition that will not come back, when there's notthing to it? Virginity is like a brand of "still in the box toy". So yeah, a virgin has never had sex. Shall we also prize analphabets because they have never been teached to read and write? Shall we prize people who only speak one language because they have never learned another? Shall we prize unexperienced people because they have never worked? Shall we prize the first instants of a baby before it's fed because it had never been fed before? Virginity was, back in the day a value assigned to women, because women were seen as only good for bearing children, and a "used" woman could be bearing the child of someone else. Besides, a virgin is ignorant, so a virgin has no way to compare the sex she or he receives. Is it good, is it bad, can something else be done? Virginity is a seal to make sure your purchase will not turn back on you and tell you that you are a lousy fuck.

Has someone ever thought about what happens when the virginity is gone? Because at one point it has to be gone, and then what? A fuck and the person is worthless? No more value? No more "virtue"? Why to place the worth of a person on a condition that can be taken by someone else, which you can't make grow, enhance and learn from it?

While the people don't fucking understant that sex and who we fuck do not define us, while we don't learn that education and access to information makes us better and eases our life, while we don't learn to tolerate others, respect others, respectr opinions, allow others to make decisions and until we don't understand that we live our lives only, not the lives of others, and others can't live our lives, then we will still have mistakes like that of Bristol, we will have horrors, misunderstanding and a long line of problems for which we already have the tools to correct.

It is not a matter of whether Sen. Palin is fit to be a vice president, it's a matter of people seeing in her and her family what a close minded attitude can provoque. When you vote, America, do not forget Bristol Pailn. Lo there your future.

6 Minute Entry

Long time no write, huh? Well, don't expect much now, since I'm in the last 6... make that 5 minutes of work left and as soon as the clock hits the 16:36 mark I'm so out of here! (16:36??? Yes, 16:36. It's real. Why? They wanna fuck with us. What can I say? I actually used to have a boss who did made sure people didn't leave before 16:36. The motherfucker, I know. Well, this is the kind of things you can only see in the Government, where people is generally so STUPID to do what they were hired to do that they take their precious time making sure they find some way to be a pain in the ass and pretend that's work. Oh yeah, now you see why there's people against telenetworking, and why there's people pressing for telenetnowrking to be in such a fashion that telenetworkers are FORCED to log in at a given time and log out at a given time.)

Gara Go!