Peaceful Sunday

It seems that letters keep scaring me away. My head is filled with things to say, but instead of writing them down I stare at my sheets of red paper and am afraid of screwing up the critical first three lines. Sometimes I think I should just let it go and chose lined paper, but each time I take one of those I end up throwing the sheet to the wastebasket because the lines bother me. Then, though I've a letter to answer, and am not writing the first one, that first sentence is getting to me. How should I start? It's driving me bonkers. However I'm determinated to write them today and send them away tomorrow. At what time I've no idea, as I'm seem booked all day, but I'll sure find a moment to send them all.

The day started incredibly well. I was up early morning, washed my hair and prepared my breakfast before sitting down to Skype with my boyfriend and tweet away my morning tweet. Picked up my clothes and made myself a good, tasty breakfast with the bread loaf I brought from Limón and a fried egg sided with coke, Béres drops and my financial paper. I was looking for a glass I like, which looks much like a whisky glass, when I found it occupied by this adorable flower. It probably fell from one of the hanging baskets of the yard, and Mom decided to rescue it and keep it living in the whisky glass. It was simply so beautiful that I had to take a picture of it. I still promised Mom to help her buy something she wants on the Internet, taking advantage of the Black Friday, so probably a lot of books on Optimization Theory and some Chomsky ones will be making their way to my "smart address box".

My main tasks for today are replying to my letters and making my Christmas cards. I actually bought the materials for the cards yesterday in the capital city. The main supply, the construction paper, came in a package of 96 sheets in eight different colors. The sheets where interlayered, which I hate, so I opened the package and put all colors together and then ordered them by chromatic order. (Slightly control freak, as you can see.) Thanks to this I realized that the sheets were too thin to make cards out of them, which is why I had to go today to get thicker cardboard for them. I've been working on a few ideas, and I've came up with the main "topic" of this year's cards. Kari asked me to take pictures of them when they are ready so that he can see them here too.

It's been a while since I last prepared something handmade (other than a few pieces of jewelry) so I'm a bit aprehensive, but I wanna try. ^_^ After all, if I screw it up I can do it again, right? Nothing to lose and all the fun to have!!

Today wicked kids dressed up strangely gathered up at my old Highschool. It was so henious I took another route on my way back. Today the day has been warm and the breeze refreshing, the coke was good and the lunch indulging. Today my tasks are beautiful and the day is absolutely peaceful. Today is a good day.

The Happiness of Costa Ricans

Saturdays usually mean to me "tour-day", since it's the only day I can run around and do my errands. Saturdays like today are "busy-end" tour-days, since it's the Saturday when I gara do the most errands (an average of 3 banks and two ATMs in 3 to 4 hours, plus the post office, and now that I remember, phone paying (haven't done that yet)). Today's errands included two banks to pay credit cards, two ATMs to get the money to pay the credit cards, and a bank to get a replacement for an expired card. However, in order to retrieve the card I had to go to the capital city, which meant to take a bus and go over there, and that added at least two hours to my regular routine.

Since I fell asleep yesterday at 20:30 - 21:00, today I woke up at 6:17. Did my bed, started Nagi, picked my clothes and then sat down to talk with Kari on the Skype. I totally, totally love him. Oh, and he looks so handsome when he goes to the office! Hair well kept, nice sweater... I'm one lucky lady ^_~. We couldn't talk much since he had work to do, and I had my errands to run.

I must say I'm a really-really lucky and happy person. When I was starting my trip, I found a small coin in a sewer but I didn't picked it up because it was under the water and I wasn't gonna touch it and get some strange sickness from it. However right before the first ATM I found another coin and this one I picked it up. I have this personal believe that if you don't pick up the little coins on the street, you don't deserve the big money. Besides it's a symbol: if you don't appreciate small things and cherish them, how could you appreciate the big ones?

Regardless of the fact that I had so many places to go and so much stuff to take care of, I felt happy and cheerful the entire day. Didn't mind going to the capital city, didn't mind the little traffic jam knots here and there. People all over the place, everywhere I went was friendly and seemed really happy.

These are mixed days for many Costa Ricans as those who work (and have the luck of still having this) get paid a thirteenth month wage, called "aguinaldo". The idea is to get people more money for gifts and vacations, as usually in these days people take the family to some place to vacation. This is the good side, but the bad side comes soon after, as thugs and thiefs get more agressive these days pulling their tricks, often kidnapping people or robbing them at gun point. Workplaces and advertisements try to protect people giving them advises about how to make sure they can keep their money and their safety.

Inspite of this, people on the street were chirp. Among street sellers, I saw three old teens dressed rather darkish hold up signs that said "HUGS FOR FREE", which put a smile in my face. I've got free, honest, sweet smiles from strangers as I walked down the crowded boulevard as I went for craft materials for my handmade Christmas cards (have a nice and simple concept I'd like to develop! I'm being totally inspired by my friends Julie and the things you can see in her We've Got Paper blog, and Patricia and her My Sunshine Pictures), a Red Cross man selling bingo cards from the Red Cross car (something the Red Cross here is forced to do to get funds) smiled like a Dad at me when I asked for directions and was so helpful and nice he really made me feel cared for, loved and at home. People like him really make Costa Rica the best place in the world.

Yes, there's corruption and crime is reaching new heights, and yet the Costa Ricans, and people here in general pick up the tiny coin in the street and smile at it. People here, unlike elsewhere, do seek the small joys of life, find time with friends and family to throw a party, or go drinking, get a coffee, laugh a little, forget about politics and jobs and issues and concentrate on bitching about football soccer. Everywhere, even in the middle of the greatest poverty, people find a moment to smile and be happy. Lay back and enjoy the present, the things before their eyes, the jokes, the sun, the company.

Among the things I saw today, I saw one thing poetically beautiful. It happened in one of the worse parts of town, there were not even idiots or angels were venture. Drug worn whores and their pimps, thugs and thiefs, crackheads and illegal immigrant workers crawl around there. Long lines to enter run down "cuarterías", which are stinky buildings where workers can rent a bed or a cardboard on the floor to crash for the night, wait for someone willing to take them on a poorly payed, overly exploiting job. A place where a 14-hour $100 per month job at a sweatshop is a marvelous dream come true. The bus I take from San José to Heredia, the Alajuela bus goes through there, and so, from the aparent safety of the bus, high up there with my cards paid, my craft shopping done, my lunch at Wendy's finished, I saw the usual like of immigrant, poor workers lined up against a wall, as if waiting for some sort of opportunity, any opportunity. All of them were sitting on cardboard box pieces, many of them sleeping. And there, among the sad, tired faces, one was somewhat happier, content by being busy with oranges he was pulling from a bag and gathering them at his feet and chatting with a mate. There, next to the orange piler one, a particularly tired and dirty looking one, dressed all in worn black, got the head of a white lily-like flower. His face lit up and his fingers twirled the flower slowly between his fingers.

I was marveled there. This pure white flower, so simple, in the hands of this man, so dirty and dressed in black was the essence fo something so greater than him, than us. The contrast between the man and the flower was a methaphore to the contrast between that pure, honest, uncorrupted happiness in his face and the sad, dangerous surroundings. I was late to take out my phone and take the picture, but I was deeply touched. Here he was, in the middle of his possible misery smiling, enjoying by his own the beauty of this flower. He didn't discard it as something unmanly or dead or stupid, or something he can't keep or make into money, drugs, food or shelter. He simply closed himself around the flower, cutting the surroundings and let himself be happy. Foreigner or not, he and that huge happiness reflected in his face reminded me of Costa Ricans: we can be deep in shit and yet, we can find that white flower and smile and love and be happy.

Nuke the Fridge

After watching yesterday the movie Julie&Julia, which I loved even though I disliked Julie for being such a pansy (sorry, but she is), today I made a tad of research (which is definitively much better than doing research on Krycek and finding out that for each straight-cut-show-oriented site there are 10 dedicated to Mulder/Krycek), looking up the actual blog and reading into it. (The feeling of pansiness didn't wilter when reading the Real Julie Powell.) As I brownsed through her entries, most of them long after the project itself ended (the ones I read, mind you), I found this interesting expression: "jump the shark".

The first time I saw this expression was in Supernatural, and it was the title of an episode (#19, I believe) in the fourth season. I've kind of didn't get it then, but then again there's often nothing to get out of the titles of the episodes. So, when I saw it in Julie's entry, it came to me that it may have some meaning, so I looked it up, and I've got an interesting results. Jumping the Shark, also refered to as Nuke the Fridge (after that amazingly dumb scene in the fourth Indiana Jones movie where Indi escapes a nuclear blast by getting himself in a fridge) refers to that moment, that point in a TV show were it reaches it's climax, and after that it's all down hill. Brought this to the everyday life, this expression refers to that moment or that thing after which everything simply goes down the sewer, the attempt to "make something wow" but after which there are no plans, we run out of ideas the point and purpose of the whole thing is lost and gone for good.

This meaning, this discovery got to me, and though I am a Supernatural fan (but not a Super-fan, I mean, dude, that sucks worse than the monkey in the sun), I'm not fond of the "jump the shark" as much as of the "nuke the fridge", so that would be the expression I'd be using from now on. The reason why the expression got to me so deep was due to the fact that it suddenly gave me a phrase to express so many things that happen around me. Projects that are dragged for years, innefective managing that just can't go on but still pushes the same worn, obsolete line... nuked the fridge ages ago. The social club to which I had a some sort of indirect affiliation, and then others to which I was indeed affiliated, that after a given level of action started drifting more towards the gossip and the social teen-drama-queen-attention-whore awards rather than concentrating on the subject that had them all together in the first place... and I left as the fridge was nuked. The friendships that lost their magic, where there's nothing else to talk about, and I stepped out of them after it nuked the fridge. The relationships and acquintances abandoned before the nuking of the fridge, and those were you can see that the fridge will be nuked soon. It's the useless, tasteless, deceptioning aftermath of something that was good before, that was great and now lies spread open and hollow. It's the moment after the party with a sucky after party.

As we speak fridges are being nuked everywhere. Financial plans that won't foresee the long run, the project that doesn't calculate what will happen with the resources once it is over, the relationships that are build upon one flimsy piece of something, an ice cube that will melt and there is nothing built for what will be once the cube is gone. In no case, or none that I can think of, nuking the fridge is a positive thing. It is the start of the disaster, the start of the preanounced failure, the flimsy attempt at keeping a crown that no longer belongs, and so it must be avoided. But what can we do to avoid nuking the fridge? Well, let me put up a few ideas from the top of my head:

#1 Avoid nuking the fridge. That one is pretty obvious. If you've got to the point where you have to resource to that hidden stash of Uranium, or get some and that old grandma fridge in the basement, it is time to pull down the shades, close the door and walk away.

#2 Planificate-planificate-planificate. And here I don't mean l'art-pour-l'art planification many seem so fond of, but I mean to actually plan for something duable, realistic, consider all possible outcomes, interferences, and above all, what to do next. For instance, not only plan the business or the job, but what to do when it ends, what to do when you retire. Sure, not a day-by-day planning, but for instance, what will you do when you retire? Start a new business, go to the Bahamas, paint, write a book of all the gossip and stupid people you've met, pictures included... get a plan!

#3 ..oh, there's a movie at the office, so I'm leaving this here. Will tell you the rest later... if I remember. ^_^

Just remember: DO NOT NUKE THE FRIGDE!!!!

The Cheese, The Cow and The Oak

You've probably been subjected to them. You know them, I'm sure you do. Probably you even have a soft, foam stressball with a cow painted on it, or one with the shape of a cheese (I used to have one of those, loved it and lost it somewhere), courtesy of some "Managing with Efficiency" seminar or a program put up by the HHRR people. Yeah, those who can't update your information, fuck up your vacations, piss on your salary category but are more than happy organizing kindergarden activities for a bunch of lazy suits. They are the modern tales, bound up in paperback with plenty of drawings and loads of empty space on the pages, chapters "subchaptered" in 2-3 paragraph bits to ease the reading, because lets be honest, most of the people reaching out for these wouldn't survive a Marcel Proust kind of composition, nor the writer of these "best sellers" could actually manage to develop its thoughts any further (and if he or she could, that would be saved for the seminars, where said writer would appear under the generic title of Guru).

Yesterday I've got online to watch the live stream of a twit-friend of mine. The guy was there on time, pouring Héroes del Silencio upon his viewers, which was cool, and then dedicated his show to talk about a book called "The Cow". At first I thought it would be some sort of modern literature piece, but it turned out to be a self-help book, a modern tale with a modern lesson embedded. This lesson was on the lines of kicking out of your life those things that make it comfortable, and don't let you evolve, but keep you in mediocrity. The message didn't sit well with me.

This similar line of thinking is being nowadays pushed through many stories of the sort, basically pushing people towards "change" while working quite hard in diminishing old values. In "The Cow" a poor family's cow, its one means of subsistence, is exterminated by a wiseman, and a year later the family leaves in prosperity. Why? Because when being left with nothing they are forced to find their way and improve themselves. In another story the Oak tree is broken because, unlike the bamboo canes, which bend at the slightest breeze, placing the value of flexibility upon firmness. Bound in colors, filled with simple stories that attempt at being "compelling" and "catching", with fairytales of call center bosses realizing how much better change sits with its employees, where proverbial napkins become the start of a multimillion company that will make all its change oriented, determinated, and flexible "thinking outside the box" partners very happy. The call bids readers and peers to jump into the void, accept change happily, cut strings and become small enterpreneurs, because that's where happiness is.

But what's behind it? Why such a drive behind forcing change upon people? "Be proactive, not reactive", many of the slogans say. "Bring solutions, not problems", others say. Perhaps someone would care to explain to me why is so bad to check the landscape before taking actions? Because that's what many "reactive" people do. And why should you bring solutions? You apply solutions and bring problems when you've got to the point of not finding solutions. Unless, of course, the point is to send the people into the mined fields under the "proactive" banner to defuse them, so that those sending them can "reactively" walk the safe path, or cover up the inneficiente of the boss by making the workers bring in solutions, and so make the boss' job aside from their own. First of all, people must understand that just because something is in a book, it doesn't mean it's true, or right at all. It doesn't stop amazing me how people today can be shepparded around through tales, just like in the old age, and yet it seems to be the most effective way to introduce ideas into people's minds.

Second of all, when reading or receiving an advice, such shouldn't be taken at face value, but be analized, valued, balanced and put in perspective regarding one's values, principles and circumstances.

Truth is that "change" doesn't guarantee any land of milk and honey, but actually can put you in a worse position than that were you are now, so before you change, you should take in consideration as many factors as you can, both negative and positive from your current situation and what could happen in the event of change, and weight them, decide whether the change is worth the cost of it or not.

In my experience, often these tales are used to keep people obedient, keep them from rebelling. For instance, in our company we were all showered with "change" speeches before a truly disasterous structural change was performed that left us far more inoperating than what we already were. Often these "change" and "find your own path, Grasshopper" tales are the prequel of a series of lay offs. I mean, lets not go so far: at the begining of this year IBM was enticing its workers to move to India, talking about the entiching experience it would be. New environment full of possibilities, an exotic culture, rich and ancient,exotic foods and scents... and it conveniently neglected to mention that wages would be significantly reduced because it was all a scheme to cut costs. The company decides to shed off some costs, which usually means letting go people, because oddly no other costs can be reduced as well as people (not to mention the tricky maneuver of laying off people and rehire some with a much lower wage, less vacation days and less benefits), and so they put up this "You can be your own boss and become successful" sales line, pay them some money and send them on their merry way.

Out of curiosity, how many "successful people" have these tales produced? Because I have not encountered many of them. I have had the chance to meet some of those who have "taken the chance" and after many years of looking over the shoulder at employed fellows, and the way the frown their noses at those who have stayed with the same company for years, and yet them, still chasing these "dreams" jump from unfinished project to pipe-dream-project in a wild goose chase of a happiness that eludes them with every step. The reasons of those settled comfortably in a position anywhere lower than that of Donald Trump are "mediocre conformists" who will never get nowhere, who are unable to evolve, while their stubborn chase for something that simply remains out of reach is "drive". Never reaching actual peace and happiness becomes something of a "value" as it feeds ambitions and the constant moving and improving to be better and better and better. But then, aren't these newly forged values something of an excuse as well? Like "it's okay if I'm not completely (happy) satisfied now, because I'm improving"?

Indeed there's conformist people who rather bitch than do something fix the things that keep them in misery, but there are actually people who are happy and don't want to change that. If you are already happy, why do you need to be "happier"? Isn't that like discarding the small joys of life because there are bigger ones to chase?

I consider myself a happy person, and I believe I have everything I need. Have also met with people who irradiate happiness while living with great simplicity. People from communes, who posses only a few things, have little online contact but greater spitirual and intellectual lives. Through the trip to Venado Island also met artists who have admitted to live constantly struggling with the financial part of their lives, and yet they can find joy in the most simple and beautiful things in life. When they think about using up orange peels to make jewelry, it is not for sales, but for giving away, for themselves, or to teach for free, for amusement, for the joy of helping those who are in need.

Money has a part in their lives, but not a predominant part. Social and financial success has no appeal and no meaning to them. That's for the "corporative spirits".

In all honesty, I've never seen any ambition-driven person be as happy as the free-spirits I've met. Elitist as I am, I've rather seen ambition-driven folks piecing up the big shells of the life they want to have, they want to fill, while carrying the chipped, battered signs of the humble origins they wish to leave behind even if dressing them up with banners of their glory. The words of Hitler come to my mind now, as he mentions in Mein Kampf how the bourgeoise class looks down in repulsion to the lower class even if they recognize them as their origin, as a way o make a point about where ambition can take people, and yet never embracing them. (My Hyne, I'm quoting Adolf Hitler. Priceless. Really.)

But then, is happiness only in the free-spirit life? No.


Happiness is not in a way of life, in a bank account, in sacrifice, in a religion, in a political party, in power, in a car, in a house, a modern fairytale, a best seller or a spouse. Happiness is within you, so be true. Change if you believe that would help, but change what really needs to be change, and don't change for changing. But above all, be aware of your own happiness, and when you have it, enjoy it.

Happiness comes in all sizes and shapes, so take also the smaller and weirder ones too. They are like chocolate: all awesome!

China Mines

So, China. Yeah, interesting country, rising economical power, or so people say. I'm still skeptic, for though it might be able to rise and buy wills, but then there come an article in the newspaper that leaves you wondering just how solid or how hollow the whole Chinese structure is. This time is coal mines. Yeah, you know, dangerous places, and not only because they make hideous movies with hot guys in there (such as "My Bloody Valentine". Mr. Ackles, really.), but because people like "die" in them. Oh, not talking about Das Kapital and the stories about the incipient, canibal, blind capitalism that sent six year old children into the mines to get coal and such, and got them killed in around 2 years or so; I'm talking about "modern" mines in present-day China, with people working in them and dying.

2007, August: 181 miners killed in a mining accident in Shandong.

2007, December: 105 miners killed in a mining accident in Shanxi.

2008: 3200 people killed in mining accidents according to state made (could there be more? It also makes 267 a month, or 9 people per day.)

2009, November: 140 miners killed (accounted so far) in Xinxing.

If this is the kind of country that will rise to be the next economical power of the world, what would it say about us?

Do You... Stream?

Among the many revelations brought upon me yesterday (like, yes, I'll see two men kissing on Supernatural, not the Winchester brothers though, but still, almost as part of a continued escalation of the "homoerotic subtext", which seems to be leaving the subtext to be fully incorporated in the plot as just another main character, if not stealing the spotlight and becoming The Plot, but that's not the topic of this entry), one thing that came to me was the "streaming" in the Twitterverse. Oh yeah, again that Hyne-awful "Twitverse" thing. I know, I know, most of you rather salt it and burn it extra crispy already, but believe me Un-Tweeting-Folks, the "Twitterverse" is interesting to the point of fascination thanks to all it's layers and the powerful redefinition of social contact. The "chats" made it once, it drove us all crazy, extracting us from the realm of "RL" (the so called "real life") and plunging us into a cyber world similar to that of Kill Switch in an episode of the X Files probably only I remember. (Used to have a humongus crush on Mulder and Krycek, but you don't need to know that, now do you?) The "Twitterverse" is something like it's "Evolution", breaking time in chunks, a bit more selective, and fully taking upon the format of the nowadays worrshipped SMS. 140 characters and the temporal flexibility of a forum, where you don't need to be bothered with the inocuous posting of pestering spammers unless you are stupid enough to follow them, and moronic enough not to unfollow them once you realize the kind of (if I say "human trash", would that be strong and politically incorrect? Yeah, okay, lemme find another word) --- (this is hard, you know?) --- people they are. Then, as in everything touched by people, it develops and proves itself to be as alive as those who use it. Whether because life, concentrated and purposefully focused generates life, of because it sucks it away from the living ones (the same is true to anything people do), it grows taking people with them, pulling and pushing each other further and forward. People still find the way to meet with others, to pour some RL-content into their contact.

Some of the many ways this "Twitterverse" extends into the lives of people is through the Streaming. From what I understand, this is simply a Twitter, a camera, an Internet connection and something to say live or recorded to the audience. Some would say that what you actually need is the three first components, as some streams have nothing to say. Probably some twit-attempt at reviving the Seinfield phenomenon. Yeah, like it wasn't enough to suffer it once.

Here and there I've heard of some of these streams, I've even seen a couple though so far none has had what it takes to really hold my attention. From a group of ladies around a table in the best Sex and The City style chatting about different topics, to an Afro-American girl babbling ghetto style they are all becoming today's better honed sitcoms. Little Twitters around the world gather up at the given time before their devices, make it phones, laptops, desktops, PDA's, netbooks, and giddily await the start of the show. This is today's "Mickey Mouse Club", and these streamers are these generation's Mousketeers. Each of them pick and follow those that talk to them, those their twit-friends recommend them, and then gather for hours and days to comment on the show. Who did what, who said what, who was interviewed, where was it located, what were they wearing, talked too much, talked too little, the quality of the transmission sucked big time, and so on.

From what I gather, streaming is also a way to get out there and horde up new people, new followers and push wider, broader the borders of the Twitterverse at their thumbs. It's also a way to find realisation to those dreams real life and its circumstances may have seemed to trunk and snip away before blooming. How many of us can actually expect to have a show of its own? A show dictated by oneself. In real life, with a real tv crew and the whole shebang, not many of us, but in the Twitterverse all you need are the three-four ingredients enlisted above and you've got your own show.

One of my friends, whom I know before the Twit-Era, has been working on this plan with another Twitter about making a "Mystery Stream". This set a thought in my mind, a small brain excercise: if I were to "stream" what would I stream about??? Would I interview people? Would I pick a fix set or would it be more of an "on the road" kind of streaming? Would it be live or recorded?

Well, I won't be streaming any time soon, but if I were to, right now I'd say I would make a show aired on one of my favorite days of the week: Wednesday. It would be like a blog, recorded, not live, with no fix set, but rather recorded on random places, which would be much funny since I tend to travel. The general topic would be that of Random Thoughts. Silly mysteries like that of Wonder Woman's Invisible Plane, and wicked things that would prompt wicked questions in people, like "if an evil spirit is so evil, why it always seems to wait to a given date to get loose and rampage among mankind? Why does it give people time to prepare and run?" or "Are zombies actually an ecofriendly solution for war, since it would mean the recycling of the bodies?" and follow up, "If wars were to be fought with zombies, and evidently the one who wins is the one with zombies still standing, head on place - if truce is not made before that point - but would it become a rule not to produce new batches of zombies out of fresh, living people?" Ew, that suddenly puts the phrase "Granpa is going to war" into an entirely different light.

It's decided and final, I won't stream. My thoughts are fine confined inside my skull. I think it's time for me to go back to work... and lay off Supernatural a little.

Bloggers for Animal Rights Awareness

Here I am, back again at the topic of Animal Rights Awareness. I'd like to recommend you all the posts some of my friends have made on the subject.

Victoria Ash "Az Állatokért", an entry in Hungarian I'd be happy to translate as soon as I get the "go". In her inspired words she tells us a story of abuse and saving.

We've Got Paper, "Astuce" , an adorable woman with a beautiful son, who made a corner for this topic, beautifully illustrated about animals and the care we should have with them.

Shotahunter, "About Animal Rights Y'All!!" , who wrote a beautiful entry, touching about the place of animals in our lives and also made some reasearch about ways to help them.

It makes me so happy to see my friends participating in this, helping to create awareness about animals and their right to be loved and cared for. I believe both writing and reading helps, because through both of them we can gain a bit of conscience about the things surrounding us, and hopefully so we will change our ways and be, just a bit more aware, pay a bit more of attention to those we might be hurting without realizing, to those we could help if we just make the effort.

#Pintotour

Unlike many would seem to believe, the Twitverse goes "a bit" far beyond the Twitter itself (a bit far because it goes far, but not too far, just somewhat far). As a recent Twitter, for long with a "Max" status (Max, from Mission:Impossible, the first one. The lady who said "anonymacy is a warm blanket"), I used to tweet from home (and still do), not really honing much this 140-character art, leaving it for the haphazardous messages with random content, and mainly to follow telecommmunication news and enterprises (because, really, I am addicted to telecomms and working with them drives me bonkers). So, aside from Latam, Telecommunication_Networks and GSM_Association, I simply followed my friends @dankenzon, @kcreyess and @shotahunter. People went collecting long lists of followers, reaching four and five figures, while I humbly ("humble" ain't me, but let's just go on those lines) kept meself in the mid two-figure rank. However, after hearing @dankenzon go on and on about the Twitters, I decided it was time to go see what's all this about.

A chance in Costa Rica to meet the twitpopulation is to participate in one of the many #tours organized by them. However, lil'chicken me wouldn't go nowhere without a "sponsor", so to say, because, believe it or not, though I'm rather comfortable being alone, I'm not comfortable introducing myself entirely alone to an unknown crowd without some "back up" force behind me. So, as if it were some kind of political lobbying strategy, I consulted with my friend about the tour to join. This is how we decided it would be good for me to meet the twitpopulation at the #pintotour, a traditional Costa Rican breakfast Twit-tour held at one of Costa Rica's most traditional diners: the Soda Tapia. This is located in the vicinity of my job, so going there, as it seems to be my curse, felt a bit like going to the office.

I woke up earlier than usually (for a Sunday), and dressed up comfortably, in clothes now I'm bound to use at the office. Hair held with a headband, coconut shell earrings and necklace (my eclipse pieces), Tatuum jeans and an old embroided blouse I inherited from my mom. On my way to the diner I saw people coming to the church, all dressed up in "church clothes", with pastel colours, long skirts, unflattering styles and beatified expressions plastered on faces that show scorn and ill gossip on weekdays. Curled up in my bus seat, filling my ears with classic rock from the 99.5 FM, the thought crossed my mind that while men wear clothes women seem to dress up, put on costumes as if everyday were somekind of carnival or play where they should accurately represent a role. It's an interesting thought and also something to consider about the way society goes. Is it that women have more freedom to express themselves with external signs, or is it that women are expected to constantly draw attention to themselves, as if they were the representative banners of the means and values of a given society? Not like that would give them more power over society, just as a billboard has no power over the things advertized on it.

I was running late for the #pintotour but my friend @dankenzon was running much later. To say that that was making me a uneasy would be something of an understatement. There were three people already there, and I didn't know any of them. Thanks Hyne they all turned out to be very friendly and inclusive people. More people started arriving and I was feeling more and more comfortable with them, talking to them, when their eyes and thumbs weren't glued to their phones.

felipezarate, acecostarica and the girl-that-doesn't-tweet

the beautiful, sweet and quiet evesosa

As we shared breakfast often I heard some of them say relieved how good it was to be among twitters so nobody would berate them for being constantly occupied with their cellphones. Within the standard paramethers of a social gathering, there were plenty of silences, where each one fo them seemed enthralled with their handheld of choice, which could be labeled as "rude", however this wasn't, or so it had to be taken. Since my cellphone has no Internet installed yet, for a moment I wondered if such self-involvement would extend its strange permit towards fishing out either my journal to write some, or the ragged copy of Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse 5" to read a couple of paragraphs. However, raised in the old ways of courtesy, I decided not to tempt the group with it.

Why do a Twitter has two hands? So he can eat with one and tweet about it with the other

@dankenzon talking (his main feature) to @Theresa_Dunn

Slowly the group grew in size, making us to join four to five tables (or so it seemed to me) for all the people attending the #tour. Conversation built up in the different corners of the table making the gathering even more enjoyable. Customized products were shown, made by (or for) @felipezarate, such as mousepads, termic jars and beer jars.


There I met as well with two interesting groups: the Sosa siblings and Pocho. Pocho runs a stream on Mondays known as pochotv, and the siblings are currently engaged in making Christmas cakes to raise money to help children. We got on speaking about welfare and Pocho told us how he hated it when people talked about how many unfair things happened around them but did nothing about it. Though I understand his point of view, I do understand as well that of the people who externate their dislike: often people feel helpless or feel as if they are so small, so powerless that there's nothing they can do about things other than bitch. Though it would be awesome if people were to take their lives and their circumstances in their own hands, truth is that not everybody has the guts and the means to do so. Many simply have no idea how to make things change. I do believe that speaking is a way, because it arises awareness. However, perhaps due to my recent exposure to the living conditions of Venado Island, or perhaps because I'm much softer at heart that I would like to admit, but I'd love to help, however in a different way than through traditional charity.

This experience, truly, was warming, refreshing and invigorating. I believe I'd love to keep #touring with them!

Dude, Really!!!

As you all know by now, I'm into the Oriflame thing. I've been having problems with them lately because their call center is filled to capacity in the first week, week-and-a-half of the month. After that you may get your order placed, but many products are sold out (specially the offers), however the shipping takes so long it's as if Vikings were carrying it from Stockholm. The last weeks you have no trouble placing your order, your package arrives in a few days, but there's barely anything to order. In those days it has happened to me that nothing on my list was no longer available, and I ended up asking the dude at the other end: "What do you have??" To say it's annoying would be an understatement. Problems have been happening so often lately that I'm on the verge of calling the entire thing off. Just... forget Oriflame, continue my life with make up and cosmetics available at the stores, and tell my clients that due to logistic problems I'm closing the business.

Well, it happens that I have a quite large order placed since last week, but the goods didn't arrive. Two days ago the postmen called me at 7 pm saying that they were lost, and the assured me they were in front of the building (I have them delivered to the office, because that's were I am during the day), and argued that the guard refused to receive the package. Yesterday I asked the guard and he said (though not convincingly) that the postmen refused to give him my name and didn't want to leave the package with him. I talked to the postmen and they said the would deliver ther package yesterday, but they didn't. So today I called Oriflame to demand about the whereabouts of my order. A young lady returned me the call (that's how it works), and the first thing she said was:

"My God! You are harder to locate than the President of England!"

Ok. After this, I believe I have nothing else to add.

The Amazing(ly) (STUPID) Race

Do you know the feeling, you know, that feeling you get when you see someone you don't like that much appear in the office? You know, that coworker you politely try to avoid as much as you can, to whom you smile forced smiles, and sometimes you don't realize you are force-smiling until your jaw and cheeks start hurting from the sustained effort? That person you rather not see, the one that makes you happy when it's not around, with whom you celebrate each seminar and each trip to wherever, regardless of the fact that that person will be the one not attenting to the office, getting the free lunch, going home early, just because during all those days you won't see him or her. That person that can ruin a perfect day just by popping up in the Messenger, even if he or she says nothing. The names for them are many. The "Pega", the "olaguaguais", the "Idiot", the "Princess Bride", the "Ms. No", the "Reject", the "Crazy", the "Satanic Priestess", the "Mr. Graveyard", the "Meanie", the "Miss Universe" (Yeah, in the Planet of the Apes! Also known as "Miss Ape-Universe"), the "Evil Panda", the "Mojo-Jojo", the "Magin-Boo" and so on.

You know the "concept", right? I bet many of you are smirking or frowning while the evil picture of your very own, personal annoyment comes to your mind.

Though I have a nice lil' collection of "Life Annoyment Individuals", today I was bothered by the mere existence of one to them, my Miss Meanie. Thanks Hyne she hasn't greeted me yet, and hopefully nor she will, though I can already picture her reaction the first time she sees me: "Hey, Dumbass! Why haven't you come to greet me? Have you seen my new dress? Oh, ahh, don't I look sexy? I'm so hot. (licks her lips and grabs herself in ways I'm fairly sure whores on the street wouldn't.)"

Call me coward, but I'm doing every single trick in the book to postpone this moment as much as I can. I mean, if I can pull it all the way up to December 18th, when I'm leaving for Hungary, man, I'll be one happy and grateful woman.

Now, I don't know about your personal annoyers, but I can tell you about my recent ones, that often they believe themselves to be "The Shit", or put in other words "The Flying Cookie". Some of them are or have been bosses, some of them climb the corporative ladder in a fashion similar to Tarzan jumping from liana to liana, and some, when lacking all of them, pretend to have this amazing knowledge, often backed up with a flashy MBA, or MSc, or MAP, or MARE or the Hell know what other masters degree they may want to come up with.

I don't know, honest, what's like in other countries, but in here the very degree of "master in-you-name-it" is often seen as a joke. A title that used to be seen as a Post-Grad degree of high value, soon became the tool of managers, and like everything managers touch, it became crap. Currently, you can skip the last year of University, the one that takes you from your college or bachelor degree to the full University degree, to a masters simply by paying. Yep, you read me right. Then, if you take five minutes to check the curriculae of the masters study plan, most of the classes are classes from pre-law, pre-economics, pre-you-name-it. Reason? You actually don't need to be a Business Administration or an Economics graduate to get the masters, you just need the money.

The cases, very real and widely known cases of the manager making his or her assistant or secretary do the homework are not isolated, degenerating to the point where three letters before or after one's name spell "Money Spending Crap" instead of "Master of Science". It's funny how this way a step forward in one's education becomes something of a mindless game, where you enroll, pay an "investment" amount, complete or have completed for you a series of tasks that really give you nothing, mean nothing, so you can later on brag with three letters and, hopefully, a thicker paycheck. Exactly like in tv shows like "The Amazing Race", where you do an ass of yourself for an end result that have nothing to do with the process. I guess, and I must believe that there are good masters programs, but all the crappy ones that flood the market have made sure to turn them into something as cheap and common as Chinese products.

Then, they devaluate even further when you see the Annoying Individuals showing of their Annoying Individual, MBA. It certainly chases you to the point where you avoid the title like the pest. It's even worse if you actually have a masters or if someone you know and love has one, because then it's not like you can separate Annoying Individuals from cool people based on their degree. I guess life ain't just that simple. And after all, there's no real correlation between masters degrees and annoying people (and even if it were, correlation doesn't imply causality). However there's something that links them both, to a certain level.

If you pay close attention, just like annoying people, different degrees and careers don't really have to be half assed and mediocre, but they are somewhat made into this as a way to make them more "accesible", more "appealing". Both of them, loose degrees and annoying people are a representation of a new value rising among mankind: the displacement of hard work by easy solutions. Just think about it: masters degrees are becoming a "no sweat, just pay" solution for status that should really be attained through hard work, and annoying people are actually annoying because often they seek other paths, to get where they want to be, other than decent, honest hard work.

I find them both unspeakable, to the point that I'll see how can I get from a University degree to a PhD without stopping on an MSc, but if there's no way, I'll make sure to hide it. And also, to the point of scurrying from my office, making sure The Meanie won't see me and cross my fingers and hope against hope that I can make it to December 18th without encountering her.

Like Our Friend Lobotomy

This is Lobotomy, a purple sheep that sits in my desk at the office. As you can see, he has a lot of things going on in his head. Have you ever felt like him? I'm sure you have.

I'm not writing much today, or at least not right now, but I'll post some random pictures.

You see, I have a picture at the office that always makes me smile, and reminds me that it's not all about work, but also about vacations!


It's time to go score some lunch. This means today to go pay one card, buy mom's present and find something good for lunch. So what would it be today? Subway? KFC? Taco Bell? Sushi? Hmmm, so many options and all of them so tasty!

I guess I'm pulling out my trusty cotton bag, my Vonnegut book, my journal, a pen, my wallet, and I'll hit the road!

Have a nice day, everybody!

Animal Rights Awareness

Sometime in October I wrote a short entry about animals, that went "largely unnoticed" if I were to judge by the number of comments to it. It was short, really, and perhaps it simply disappeared, which I wouldn't find so strange. I mean, up to a few days ago most of the readers of my journal seemed invisible and ghost-like to me, but recently a new friend, Joana, from Portugal took liking of my blog, and this entry picked her curiosity.

From the comment she left, saying that the message should be passed on, it occured to me that that was exactly what we should do, and hopefully raise some awareness in people about animals. So I'll be asking all my friends who have blogs, and all those out there who share the feeling, to please spread the word and post an entry, just a few lines, a picture if you'd like, to make your readers realize that animals, specially those we take in, have the right to be treated well. Please, it's just an entry, and perhaps it can make the difference.


If you'd like to read more about animal rights, I have found some very interesting sites you might consider visiting, such as http://www.animal-rights.com/arpage.htm or the home page Animal-Rights.com.

Like you all should know by now, I am not a vegetarian, and I actually put bacon on my vegetarian sandwich, nor I have problems using leather or apreciating a fine fur coat, and yet I believe we must be responsible. Animals out there eat each other, so we don't really need to stop being omnivorous in our attempt to love and guard animals, but we do must learn not to abuse them, not to mistreat them, not to exterminate them. Lets consume what we really need, not more. Lets re-evaluate the luxuries we take, whether we need them or not, but above all, when you get home, please pat that adorable dog waging its tail for you, stroke the soft fur of that lovely cat meowing for your attention, scratch the head of that bird chirping... and please think whether they are better the way you keep them, pay attention to them and evaluate if they are happy. They deserve it.

I'm reaching out for all fo you, please, lets make the difference, okay?

Secrets

I'm reading something I, perhaps shouldn't, but I'm trapped by my reading. Yes, books and thoughts are powerful, and perhaps there's reason in fearing them, but I feel so hungry now, hungry for this knowledge, this light, dark and poisonous as it might be, and as I've found it, I sink my fangs in it and wolf at them. My eyes shine, I can feel it, as the swell with this knowledge, and my brain falls in flames, envelopped, licked over by these dark, blood red flames, turning thoughts around, rethinking concepts.

I'm drinking the forbidden words.

The Island

November 14th, Saturday, 04:00 hours. The radio starts and old classics pour from it in a scratchy voice of less than good inbuilt speakers. Time to wake up, or something like that. It's more a matter of "something like that" for me, as I can hardly detach myself from the warm blankets, the soft cushions and the sheets. Thursday my thesis mate received a call from our tutor telling her that there was a trip arranged to the Venado Island this Saturday, and that we should be at the University at 6 o'clock. After months and months waiting form the trip to be arranged, going once by our own device only to have a terribly disappointing experience, a trip out of the blue, arranged in two days was "strange" to say the least.

The plan was to go to the island and come back the same day. That was a bit strange for me, because the first time we went to the island we had to leave at 2 am to be at a small port at 6 am to leave on a fiber glass boat with there was still high tide.

Having been there once already, I prepared for myself a small backpack, my "goosegreen" Bruxelle bag with a tablette to write on for the surveys, two black pens, in case Milena forgets hers or her pen stops writing or something. It's good to be prepared. A pair of rubber flip flops that tie around the ankle with velcro strips, an extra shirt just in case, wallet, cellphone, PDA, the notebook where I collect all my notes on the thesis... well, some of them, sunblocking cream, asthma pump, chap stick, keys.

I took a cab to get there in time, and minutes after my thesis mate, Milena, was being dropped at the meeting place by her husband. Hell, I just don't get used to Milena being married, even though she has been married for years now, to someone like him. Older and not that handsome. The bus, and then the people from the Venado Island Project, with whom we were going to the island, started arriving half an hour later. That was a bit unsettling, since the more late they came, the later we would arrive to the island, and we had to take the tide in consideration to get there.

Finally the people was gathered, we dropped here and there to pick people, leave stuff, and then off to the road. Naturally stopped to have breakfast at a some place on the road, where everything is insanely expensive and yet cheap in quality, with nearly degased sodas, melted candy and typical breakfast options, none of which I really dig. After lagging too long, almost as if the team were on a pleasure trip, rather than a work one, we were all back in the bus, where people choose their seat lines to stretch out and sleep, while I quickly recorded in my notebook some of the comments from the sociologists coming with us.

Puente de la Amistad. The "Friendship Bridge", donated by the Government of Taiwan. It's strange to see such a modern structure in the middle of such a poor, rural place.

I didn't feel quite safe there talking to Milena about the thesis and our tutor, telling her about my doubts, so we remained in silence. Milena drifted off to sleep and I watched her, smiling, because she looks quite child-like, almost like an angel, and then took a picture or two while entertaining myself with playing up stories in my head, many of them stories I sat down to write a long time ago, but either never finished.

Topoyo, our sailor, and Rainer, Oscar's (the head of the tour)... mignon? This is when we are leaving La Penca, the port on dry land.

Oscar, the tour organizer, and who will be the woman in Swatch cap and Swatch watch? Of course, me.
Milena, my thesis mate and... "I should know her name". She teaches the people of the island, mostly women and kids, how to do different artisan things, such as sandals and jewelry.

Neither the trip nor the arrival were anything like what we had expected. If I suspected that it was a ruse from our tutor to trample our efforts, now I was certain. With no plan, no aid, only the transportation to the island, Mile and I had to find our way and start finding fishermen to fill surveys. We made eight from the 59 we need to do. However, this time around, the fishermen were easier on us than the last time. They were more willing to talk to us and be interviewed. Though we spent all morning travelling, and then had little time to go look for fishermen, we didn't get half as tired as last time. We were also better prepared, and could get some additional information here and there about the island and what it's like to live there.

Fisherman's home in the island, quite close to a swampy area.

When they are not fishing, due to prohibition, fishermen find very creative ways to use their nets. I liked this one.
The island from the boat. An inhabited part, which is not that much common.

I was telling a penpal of mine the other day about what's like to live there and be a fisherman. Life there is, indeed very simple. It amazes me how my tutor and Oscar, the tour head, say that they live well and make amazing amounts of money, when you walk around and you can't see a single well built house anywhere. I'd be amazed if I were to find a single house in the island with a ceiling. They all dress simply, walking around the island in flip flops or bare feet. There are no streets, maybe only one, but no cars, except one or two belonging to a few richer fishermen, who now make money out of plucking it from the poorer ones.

I started this thesis theme not believing in it, agreeing to it because it was imposed and I thought it would be a fast way out, but it proved to be quite long. I had an encounter so bitter, I've got to hate them, and wished to finish soon with the topic and move on, get my title paper, pay my dues and fly home to Hungary. But after yesterday's visit, even after getting home at 10 pm, in a small bus filled with people from our University, with a flirty theater guy, a dancer, a woman who makes jewelry and looks like a hippy, her hot, muscly boyfriend and an array of very fac-looking guys, nerdy, lanky and uninterested in being manly, I was filled with hope. There's still something we can do with the island, there's a spark of hope, and I would like to pursue it.

Independent Little Anti-Diva

My friends are making me feel like a star. This week my friend Dragonfly decided to interview me for her blog. I'm still answering her questions, going on and on over them, perfecting my answers, looking for pictures I could provide for her to illustrate my answers, or simply to add a bit of randomness to them. In any case, it's like... I dunno... cool, to be considered by my friends as a good "interview subject". Make me feel like a diva...

It's of course all far from it, because my friends are basically sharing what the find interesting, like they always do, and Hyne knows that I'm as far from being a diva as... uhhh... George Bush is from being a hippie, anti-war, pro sexual enlightment and pro-abortion. I mean, I snort while laughing if I laugh too hard, and I eat with my hands if I don't have cuttlery close, or the cuttlery is hard for me to use. I resource to any excuse so I don't have to put on make up, hardly style my hair and wear clothes that must be first comfortable, and then be to my liking, please me, but hardly consider fashion or trends... I just follow my own vision, and that's often out of the charts. I drink beer and blurp, which has already made my boyfriend raise his pretty eyebrows. My poor Kari! Sure he thought the first time he might be dating a guy somehow in the body of a woman (which has been proven not to be far from reality... brain wise at least).

A thought about a good topic started forming today in my mind as I walked to the local convenience store from the office to get my daily Regular Coke fix. (Yes, I can't swear off the sewer waters of the yankee imperialism, as a friend of mine calls it.) The topic was the eternal battle between Dependence and Independence. Had this whole idea of overly thought concepts about what each of them are and why people can easily choose the less "desirable" choice for what's in their hearts.

Then, I had stuff to do, and then got lost reading e-mails from friends and aswering stuff, and so it was postponed. At one point a coworker and I went to run some errands, and we started talking on the way. It suddenly highlighted a side of this dependence and independence matter. You see, "independence" is the one concept considered desirable, but people time and again choose to be dependant. With this coworker it was brought to my attention that dependant people usually seek to justify their dependence and make it look as actually a matter of "independent choice". Often, these ways of dependence are easily breakable, like this case, where he has made himself dependant of his coworkers with car to take him to the office and then back home. The independent choice wouldn't be to get a car, though that's a choice, but to take the public transportation. However he chooses this dependant choice and justifies it as being an agreement, where he helps his coworkers by eventually dropping some symbollic amount to help out with the gas.

I'm not sure if that soothes his conscience (I believe it doesn't really much, and his words, his explanations are for the world), but it made me think about how other people could be using the same technique. People who don't leave their partners because "they are not that bad" or justify themselves by returning wrong doing with wrong doing, or people who don't take responsability of something they should, but instead consider that meddling in what's not their business is a compensating act, by "taking responsability" for "what's not really their responsability". (Yeah, a lot of people think that meddling is being responsible).

In my eyes, people rush into dependency because they would like to be independent without the responsability it takes to actually be independent. So they kid themselves, fall under dependency while weaving up stories to themselves about how actually independent they are. Oddly, under this denied dependency, due to the dependency itself, people expect to be helped, expect others to solve their problems, expect others to take care of what's not their business, just as they meddle into other people's business. This complicated net where everybody solves the things that are someone else's responsability is a scheme to escape from responsability, since actually solving other people's issues are not your responsability, and by making others responsible of your responsabilities, frees you from them.

As an existentialist I believe that you can't escape your responsability, and even though you wish to put it on other people, it is always your responsability. So, if you believe that your well being is someone else's responsability, your happiness is someone else's job, you may choose to leave it all up to others, but it's still your responsability. So, why to choose the evidently worse path? Do excuses actually are a good compensation for the lack of desired results? Or is it that people ditch responsability because they generally believe not to be up to the challenge of taking care of themselves? And if it is so, why is it so?

Their parents never let them learn how to be independent? Where they always told they couldn't do it? Mom and dad did their homework all the time, older people told them they knew better than them what was good for them?

This is a topic with a lot of questions and not so many answers and deductions, but still is interesting.