The View from My Window

Changing your life isn't something that - though may happen over night - switches in you automatically. You may have been dreaming for years about how wonderful your life would be in this or that way, in this or that place, in this or that circumstance... and if you are lucky and you get your wish granted, and the change you wanted comes, it doesn't mean that over night You will change and live your new life as if you have been born into it. It might sound stupid, but it takes experience to realize that things in real life are often much different than what they are in dreams.

For more years than what I care to remember - probably all my life - I have wanted, yearned, to live in Hungary. Whatever way, whatever form, I just wanted to live here, in Hungary - in Budapest, to be more precise. In the last years my life was almost held up for this one dream of mine. I worked all year to be able to travel to Hungary for a couple of weeks, and in those weeks I felt like I was alive, like I've come from a dark, lifeless mine where I moved automatically, where I was an inanimate pupet living in fake smiles and fake feelings, just waiting to be awoken by the gentle kiss of the white, sparkling winter and the soft, playful snow.

Today I am here and my life here begins. Still no job, still in the very begining, paging with my boyfriend through furniture calatogues and picking a bed and a table, desks and shelve units... and I just can't get my head around the fact that yes, I've a new life now, with new responsabilities and new struggles. Though I've lived looking up, to this moment, working for it, studying to make it happen, holding up on buying an appartment or getting engaged in any way that would pose any difficulty for me to move here, now that I am here, I still can't believe it. Is it real? Am I here for good? Really here for good? Is this snow and this cold, and the blue busses and the public transportation tickets part of my reality? My final and eternal reality from now on? Is it real that Vienna will be forever close to me, and Paris - my beloved Paris! - is a few hours away in plane?

I've a new life, the life I always wanted and I can't believe it, and I'm suddenly scared and thinking "what if I can't make it?"... but I am here, in my dream, and it's time to buckle up and slowly let myself be part of it.

Waiting Times

One of the most common complains you get from users, customers and people in general, is about the "quality" of the service and a big part of it is related to the waiting time. Somehow no matter hoy much the seller or the clerk smiles at you or how speedily they try to help your with your request, the impression is always the same: the service sucks. And the service sucks because "in other countries" they do it much more pleasantly and much faster. The statistics curiously are never there, but the general argument to hold up this impression is "in other countries is not like this".

After unsuccessfully trying to revive my mobile line yesterday, today I went to the place where the service could be restored - so I was told. It was a nice, late winter day, kinda chilly but pretty and shiny, so I merrily went to the company's store only to find out that the service couldn't be fixed because my ID was expired. Say what?? Yes, my old, handwritten, notebook-like ID was expired. The clerk asked for my Driving License... but I only had my Costa Rican one with me, so that didn't work. A bit disheartened, I went to solve the issue, at loss about where should I go. So without a mobile phone line, I actually had to hunt down a payphone - thanks Hyne for small favors! - and called my boyfriend to tell him "the situation". After that I headed home, looked up the place I should go (that depends on which district are you inscribed, so the one my boyfriend knows isn't good for me, for I'm in a different district), and my aunt actually helped me with that. So we went to the "official documents' office" where I was received immediately - didn't even had time to take off my coat! - and a very nice, sweet guy asked me for my DL or my passport - I gave him this last one - and he quickly helped me fill the form to request my new ID. Thanks Hyne I've got a new picture, because I hated my last ID's picture. This next one isn't that good either, but it's an improvement considering the last one!

The guy then told me that my ID would be ready in 30 days. 30 days??? In Costa Rica I get my new ID or driving license in 3 minutes! I've got my brand new and first "Official Residence Card" (in the old ID's there were pages where such data was included. Now that the notebooks are gone, there's an ID card and an "official address card"). He told me that I could use meanwhile my Hungarian passport as official ID, until my actual ID is done. I didn't bother much about it, but it did made me smile how people at Costa Rica bitch about the waiting you have to do at the Civil Registry, and though I was served right away in here - probably because it was a low traffic hour - I'll have to wait far more than anyone in Costa Rica for my plastic.

Well, once this was done, we went back to fix my phone situation. Now, let me tell you in advace, that my operator is a private operator, not a State owned one. So, we went there, got called right away, by the same nice guy, and he started fixing my situation. As it happens, the fixing shouldn't have to be arranged directly though them, but through a series of e-mails and online forms and requests taking many days, but just as a favor - and because he knew someone in there - my situation was fixed there. I also wanted my own mobile Internet - which I got, and guess what? These two things took an hour of my life. Yes, one hour. The guy was really nice, and I guess that seeing how much time it was taking him to do all the TWO things I asked from him, he started telling me the story of his life in a half-flirtatious way (so salesman like!), and I took on the hint and asked him all kinds of telecommunications' questions, which amazed him and gave him the chance to ask how come I knew that, so I would talk and he could concentrate on his slow system while keeping me entertained (Rule #1 to keep a customer happy: make it all about the customer!).

I didn't mind, but it was funny again to compare Costa Rica and Hungary, and how people actually complain for the activating of a phoneline taking over 20 minutes.

People, procedures take time, and sometimes companies find that giving the best and fastest computers to their CEO's and their staff is a much better and justified move than giving it to Customer Service, who by rule always inherit the computers that have filtered down through the company and get discarded by the last link of the back office. Procedures are also way to ensure the reliability of a client, and they depend on the experience of the company with problematic clients, as well as the experience of the country in general. If in your country you've a culture that celebrates getting away with murder and consider "smart" people who manage to walk away without paying, then yes, get ready to face long insurances and procedures to get something where you could walk off without paying.

Have you ever considered that your Customer Service is also a result of the type of culture you help to creat? Have you considered that your attitude and also your attitude towards work, your responsabilities and those of others, also help to mold the type of Customer Service and the type of service you get? After all, it's people from the same culture you belong to, the one's serving you. Have you thought that instead of expecting THEM to change and suit your need, you could do the changing and adapt to the situation?

Thing is that everybody complain, but if you where to actually compare the services between countries, you would find that actually it isn't true that you have the worst service in the planet, and nor is it true that there's a place where the service is happy and swift and like a walk in Paradise. Something always annoy people because people are often predisposed to get annoyed.

Of course, when examples like this are shown up, then the usual rebuke is "well, other countries, because those are exceptions", which is fun, because they either can't come up with a country where things are the way they say they are, or the witness was a friend or family member of them, or you name it. Even if it was them, the case isn't clear and you are there with the feeling that something isn't right. And something isn't right.

It's time for us to realize that the Customer Service depends on the customer. We must realize that in order to make a transaction like this pleasant, also WE have to be pleasant. Sorry, the clerk isn't there to make you smile and serve you some coffee, and you won't lose an arm if you smile first and remain pleasant and understanding. So next time, when you have to make yet another endless queue, please make the effort and be a pleasant customer, be nice, smile, be understanding. Be all you want the clerk or Customer Service attendant to be, and you may be surprised at the kind of lovely service you can get!

Disconnected

I'm writing this post outside the Internet. I'm writing it Today (02-12-12) but you are going to read it only tomorrow (02-13-12) due to a very simple reason: I don't have an Internet connection. More precisely I don't have a single Internet connection that works. Should I known that, I would have either blogged from the mall we went some hours ago, or would have taken the chance and bought myself a working mobile internet account, which now naturally I'll do first thing tomorrow. Upsetting, right? My phone doesn't work because it has been disconnected after over 12 months of not using it, but fear not! The number hasn't been given away, so if I hurry tomorrow and I get at an official store (as opposed to those which are not official - or resellers, as I believe they are called - ) then I can ask for them to get me my number back. Then maybe I'll take on the chance and upload this post from some coffee house from the vicinity, and get myself also a WORKING, FUNCTIONAL service, as opposed to that of my boyfriend, who forgot his PIN code, as he so often does. As for my aunt's... it keeps giving me the same error message. It shouldn't, but it does. Anyway, could this be a sign for me to slow down for today, leave my cyberlife aside for a minute and just draw myself a bath, and enjoy it? There is people out there writing for many magazines and papers (that appear on the net) who talk about how healthy it is to "disconnect" yourself from the technological ubiquitous shadow we drag around. Could this be it?

And just as I typed that, what do you think it happened? The internet made its Grand Entrance. Were I inclined to believe in signs (STRONGLY believe in signs!), I would say that this means that I won't find a job fast, but just as I get ok with it and decide to take the lack of a job chance as a sign to lay back and finish that book I've never finished, a job will appear. But no, I prefer not to take it that way, otherwise it would kill the fun of it. Either way, here I am, today-today, writing to all of you in my new home. Well, home-TOWN that is, as we haven't moved to our place yet (or shall I say my boyfriend's place?). All the surveying stuff and such will start tomorrow. As it is, my agenda is so full, I don't have any more space for it to write!! First day and I've so many tasks to tackle, I feel like I need the biggest and strongest NFL players by my side to help me get a hand on all these.

In case you wonder, I'm still up to my plans, and will draw myself a nice bath and buy myself mobile internet service.

So how was my day? It started around 8 am in Paris. Boyfriend and I woke up in our lovely little hotelroom, and one of the coziest, most pretty little hotels in town. Small, simple, surprisingly two stars hotels (I've seen far worse four star hotels!), we had some time before rushing to the airport to catch out flight to Budapest. After having made rounds last night at the Opera house, down the Opera Avenue - where I had to detour to the Foucher chocolate boutique to get my hands on some of the finest, most exquisite chocolate made in the planet (and since my boyfriend paid for the treat, I told him that I would count that for his St. Valentine's present. Let's be honest, hardly anything else could top a lovely little box full of fine chocolate) - all the way to the Pyramid of the Louvre, and then try the Metro to the famous Eiffel Tower... all of which I told you about yesterday, without the pictures.  I would offer you pictures, but Blogger doesn't want to let me upload any, so until that gets solved, we will be stuck pictureless.

Regardless of all this exciting visitings, we still had a request from my mother: get a picture of the Cité de Justice, where her favorite fictional detective works: Maigret. As early and we could we've got out of bed, got ready, and minding the time we had to catch our plane, we rushed to the metro again - our new best friend in Paris - to Cité to check on the building, and then go to Notre Dame. I hope we did well with the Cité de Justice, because We weren't sure about the building, so we took pictures at a couple of them. Then we went looking for the Notre Dame. My boyfriend - true to his nature - started walking in a direction at random, and I followed him - I hadn't fully woken up, I guess. Some ten minutes into the walking, and no church in the vicinity, I decided to stop and check out the map, which was a very smart decision from me, as it happens we were walking in the opposite direction. So we turned, rushed and got to the wonderful Notre Dame. I can't decide whether it was more beautiful and imposing from the inside or from the outside. It was breathtaking!

At the moment we were there, there was a mass going on, with a choir singing so beautifully, it was filling you with a heavy yearning to drop on your knees and pray to God in infinite adoration. The carvings, the statues, the vitrals... everything was simply magnificent.

To be able to due this last minute trip, we had to skip a formal breakfast, so on our way back to the hotel for our luggage, we went into a store and got a couple of sandwiches and something to drink. We've got to the airport nearly on time - okay, 30 minutes late, but still in time! - and everything seemed to go smooth, when it happened that my ticket started giving problems. I printed out my boyfriend's but mine refused to be printed out. What to do? We went for help, naturally. It was quite easy to solve, however at the counter, the lady taking care of the matter - it seems that the flight was overbooked, that's why my ticket was giving us problems - noticed that we checked 4 pieces of luggage, not 2 (one each). Since we were at the counter, she had to log them, even if they were not with us. She called a colleage to help her, and they looked at us.

"You've checked four pieces? You were supposed to check only one each!"

I was honest.

"I know, " I said "we were expecting to pay for the extra luggage, but the personnel at TACA said we were entitled to two pieces. I found it weird, and told them our tickets said we were entitled for only two each, and we expect to pay for the other two, but... they wouldn't have it."

The lady and her colleague looked at each other, and then the gentleman said:

"Well, that's an issue that Costa Rica must solve, it's not on us."

They were fine with it, checked the luggage as it was, and the lady told me that she made a small note letting them know that it had been a disposition at Costa Rica. I was fine as long as the luggage arrived to Budapest.

We didn't have time to look around the airport and shop for some stuff, though I managed to still get myself a salt-and-pepper set (beautiful black and white) and two breakfast bowls - also black and white. ^_^

At Budapest our luggage came out quite quickly. We still had to wait because my boyfriend ran to the carrousel and I was in charge with taking care of the trolley and the hand luggage, BUT he forgot to mention that the only suitcase he was able to identify was his own. It was me pointing out to him "Dude, those are our suitcases" when they went around for the third time, and he still didn't react.  I asked him then "why did you offer to go for the suitcases if you can't identify them?" His answer? "So you don't have to carry them". Yes, I know it was sweet of him to try and save me from the physical effort, but I felt like rather slapping him. Man, how do you offer if you can't do it? What did he expect really? For the suitcases to yell at him "Yo, asshole! I'm yours! Pull me off this shit!". Really, sometimes I don't get him. Then again, Harry-Potter-speaking, maybe he's too Griffindor and I'm waaay too Slytherin.

From there we went home, filled in with my aunt, got comfy and then headed to the closest mall to see if I can do something to get my number working, and then do some grocery shopping. Not much as we are still not at our place, and there's no point in getting stocked, only to then move that whole lot to our appartment, but we stock up on the basics: bread, cereal, condoms and beer. I also rushed up to a paper store - I was compelled too! - and bought myself some stationary to reply to some of my late-late-late letters.

Tomorrow another day starts and we have lots of stuff to do, but right now, I'll go rest, draw myself a bath and be happy to be finally here.

Welcome to Europe! Your life starts Here!

This is my first post from the other end of the Atlantic Ocean, from the Old Continent. It's not still my home yet, as I'm in Paris, not in Budapest, but I am at my beloved Europe! My hair hasn't wasted a minute and it's already acting European, which means it has gotten straight, flat against my skull and shiny. Yes, you could say it's the effect of the beanie I've been wearing all day long, but that's not it.

This trip has been as emotional as expected, and maybe even more. Though I managed to keep my feelings in check the whole time prior to the trip, when I was already in my dad's car, with all my belongings packed in almost six suitcases, I saw my mom from the porch with her eyes watering. There she was, seeing us go, ready to smile and wave if she noticed we were looking ah her, and hide her tears, and yet I saw her try to hold back tears that reddened her eyes. This broke my levees and soon my face was streaming with tears I couldn't stop. At the airport my dad held me real hard and real long and we told each other that we loved each other. I once again fought to control my tears and had them on a perilous check, and masking the rest with an allergy outburst.

After all the drama and all the fear, the luggage was checked-in with no major concern. The lady at the counter said we had right to two pieces of luggage, but of 32 Kg combined, so she charged us for the surplus an amount that was half of what we expected to pay for extra luggage. Then, as she assumed we were either newlywed or to be married -  and would spend the night at Paris as a romantic evening - she arranged for our luggage to be sent straight to Budapest, not to Paris as it was originally going to happen. :-)

On the plane to Bogotá, however, as I took my last glances at the ariport of Costa Rica, and saw the buses and cars out there, I couldn't stop thinking of my mom and I've got crying again. As silently as I could, but I had to turn my head like an owl and hide behind my hair to keep people from seeing my tears. It was the saddest moment ever. :-( Then I realized my boyfriend was crying too, and that got me laughing.

"Why are you crying? Ain't like it's you leaving your momma."
"Because I know what this means, and Ive feelings too."

Sweet, yeah... so damned corny! That was such an Ingalls answer to give! However I lightened up by pulling at him and laughing at him "Cry baby, cry baby!". It did was strange, and it was even stranger that he would assume I believed he has no feelings. I know he does! He has more feelings than I do!

Things got better after we embarked the plane to Paris. As usual, it was delayed and it arrived with an hour of delay. Not that it mind anything to us. The food was awesome, as usual, and even my boyfriend was won over by Air France, telling me that whenever the price was right (and that accepts a little over the price of KLM), we would always choose Air France over any other airline. I was more than pleased. To my delight, they also had Puss on Boots for movies, so I checked on that, but soon after fall asleep. We had great seats, wih plenty of legroom to stretch, so I slept fabulously. Kari somehow managed not to sleep, for which at the hotel he laid down while I checked out the Sacre Coeur. It was supposed to be -5°C (like 19°F), but either I was clad in a LOT of clothes, or it wasn't that cold.

Later on, I went back for Kari and called a good friend of mine who lives here and whom I haven't seen in ages. He was available, and we met for a drink. It was great to see him again and catch up on each other's lives. ^_^ I hope that now that we are on the same side of the world, we can see more of each other and keep up the contact.

From there we went to Louvre, which was closing, but still, and finished the tour of the day with a visit to the famous Eiffel Tower.

This time around the daily tickets worked wonderfully, so Kari and I made plenty of use of the metro system, which allowed us to visit more placed without freezing or asses off in the cooling Parisian night.

I still haven't grasped the whole of my decision. It's still unbelievable to look around and understand that all of this is part of my daily reality now. Paris isn't a faraway concept, it's a place I can visit anytime on a relatively modest budget (compared to before). Winters are my reality, Europe is my reality and I'm not here to visit and spend vacations, I'm here to stay, to live, to make a life and plough a grave for myself here. This is my land, my home, my reality. When is it really going to sink?

Last Post From Costa Rica

This is the last post I write from Costa Rica in a long time. This is the last time I'm checking the hour in my computer - set to Central European Time - and think about rushing with a post before 16h, in order to still make it in the day (because of the time zone differences). This is the last time I'm writing from "paradise", from the tropic and surrounded by Latin concerns. I'm moving.

I'm nervous, and thinking about the cold, but happy because one of the "problems" was solved: we could check in all our luggage. ^_^ and it seems we won't have to check it out and in again in Paris. No taxi, we are taking the RER B to Gare du Nord with our hand luggage only.

This is my last post from Costa Rica. My last post with my mom and dad close, with my brother a few minutes away in car, my sister-in-law, my beautiful nephews close and my friends minutes away from me. My last post in the place close to my loved yoga classes. This is my last post from Costa Rica. I'm moving, I'm looking for my new life at home, with the cherries and the snow, the trains to Vienna and Paris close to me. You all will be dearly missed.

On The Brink of Insanity

I lost my Zen. There was a Zen, I had a Zen and now the Zen is gone. Gone, gone, gone. And it's quite funny that today, that I lost my Zen, I actually achieved something important to me: I drove to San Pedro. Yay! I did it! ^_^ So here's what happened:

By yesterday I finally had all my stuff packed in three large suitcases and a cabin luggage, which rivals in weight with the bigger ones. Yes, that's me all the time. I had found my center and was calm about the whole "I can't take all my stuff with me now" matter. It upset me, BUT there are conditions: luggage capacity conditions, human strenght capacity conditions and the reduced space and lack of storage units at my new home. So yes, be smart Bunny, we can't pack up the whole deal now and expect to have the same room, closets and shelves there! So I had come to be in peace with that. Good.

There were, though, things that I had to arrange but couldn't manage to arrange before. I had to take a letter PERSONALLY to the College of Professionals in Economical Science to request a change of status due to me leaving the country. (That thing I wrote about being in the technology era and yet having to nearly send it by pony-express? Yeah, that thing.) Then I had to return my checkbooks (another thing you must do personally at the place where you opened the account), meet with Dragonfly-cr, take a recommendation letter to Kate's workplace, pick up a suitcase from my brother's and post some snail-mail. To do the first three things I had to go to San Pedro. I've never driven in San Pedro, and have always considered it difficult, so having the chance to do it was an opportunity I wasn't going to waste! I decided to take a route through San Pablo, Santo Domingo, Tibás, Moravia and Guadalupe, which I used to take quite often... in bus... five years ago.

I went once with Kari, and we got lost in Guadalupe, but ended up getting there. This time around... I've got lost again in Guadalupe. However, after rolling around and driving in the opposite direction, I finally happened upon the road and got there. Once I saw the Flag Rotary, I was thrilled! So I went to the College, managed what needed to be managed, then went to the Bank, where I met my old coworkers and managed what had to be done as well. I learned also that one of my old coworkers had paralytic stroke and ended up brain dead. She was a smart, kind lady who was always ready to help the new coworkers in their job. She was like a mom to all of us. Mayela will always be missed dearly by all who knew her.

From there I met with Dragonfly-cr, who had prepared for me a wonderful present. :-) She got me magnetic decorated notepads and post-its. They are so beautiful!!! ^_^ It was like she was reading my mind, because I was actually thinking how can I get magnetic pads in Hungary for my grocery lists!!! I'm all about the magnetic pads, but they are not always easy to come by. We had Mexican food, talked and shared a lot. I'll miss her.

Then I had to go to Escazú, to Multiplaza to get Kate her letter. I was going to use the only safe road I know, which involves going through San José downtown. Dragonfly and her friend told me to go through the rotaries, which was a shorter way. As they explained, it was all nice and fine, si I decided to go that way. Well, first I had to extricate my car from the parking lot, where a MORON parked so close to me, I nearly broke my mirror. But I did it. Then I went through the rotaries. Yes, except that I turned off the road at the wrong sign (Escazú, not Santa Ana) and got into the worst part of San José: Alajuelita.

I rolled and went and had to U turn a couple of times and make really stupid driving decisions, nearly sat down and cried, but eventually I've got on the road. I ended up again going towards San José, not towards Multiplaza, but turned at a safe point and got there, left the letter and went to pick up the suitcase and post the letters.

There I thought I was out of the woods. No, I wasn't.

In here I nearly murdered my boyfriend over packing disagreements. It did upset me that though he has much less stuff that I do, he suddenly considered a lot of his things of "vital importance" and started pulling of my stuff. He as all his things there and I'm not, and he's claiming importance and "can't live without it" about shirts and tracking shoes. I did upset me. Then I kinda got over the matter, packed in the extra luggage, when he started bitching about "what if we can't get those up". Dude, we are paying extra, why couldn't we? And if we can't, that's why I declared two of the luggage pieces "the primal ones". The other two, if we can't take them with us, will be brought by someone else. But really, why wouldn't we be able to put those on the plane? People do it all the time - and we would be paying for them, and isn't now the airline industry all about getting more money from the clients?

I tried to get ahead of the situation, and do the web check-in and check also the extra luggage (20% discount if you do it online!), but the site of Air France wasn't helping. I could see my reservation but I couldn't modify anything, even if the site had a button that allegedly took me to where the modifying could be done. There was no clear sign telling you you can't add more luggage, or you can't upgrade your seat (which I also wanted to do), so now here I am, out-Zen-ed, worrying about luggage and about what will happen in Paris if we have to pick up the luggage and drag it to the hotel... which isn't the same as going to the hotel only with our cabin luggage.

I'm worried. I really am. I'm anxious, and guessing and trying to prepare myself to the worst scenarios... but then again what's there to worry about? If I don't get all the luggage up, what's so bad about it? It's not like it's going to be lost in the sea, AND it's easier to navigate from Gare du Nord to Rue de Maubeuge with only a big suitcase and a cabin luggage, right? And if we have to navigate Paris with two pieces of check-in luggage, hey! at least we've got them on, right?

There's a positive side to everything... Now I'll go wash my hair and try to recover my Zen. Like the trips, they've got tricky, but I've got to my destination nontheless.

Printer

Offices are little micro environments where the megalomaniac personalities of some create a macro chaos. Irrational bosses are often a source of trouble, or a problematic coworker, but it also happens that the secretary (who insists on being called "Assistant") who has a boss complex creates problems of sizes otherwise unbelievable. In here we've had an assistant such - let's call her Norma - who for a while had the support of a director, and thus applied her very personal reign of terror. She made it her work to check on everybody's entry and leaving time, buying on the office budget quite expensive equipment to keep tags on people. Money has flown quite freely regarding supplies for the secretaries, new laptops, laptop bags, snacks for the director and so on. Then, suddenly costs had to be cut (there was never a report indicating what was the budget and what was the amount spent on "trouble areas"), and said cuts got to the printers. This was bad because there was only one big printer - the one she used - and everybody else had small printers on their desks - even her. It was decided that nobody would get any more supplies for the printers - but the printers weren't even removed from our desks and our care, and sent to someone who could use them. Nobody was told in advance, so that we could use the printers as much as we could, but simply one day we weren't given any more ink or paper.

We all had to print at the big printers, except her who kept her desk printer. Oh well, we did, and a lot of problems came out of that. Paper went out way too fast, people took away other people's printed documents, some threw them away, others just gathered there forgotten... and soon there was much more printing than before, add to it, with a much more expensive printer.

Then the director recently got retired, but it's like Norma never got the memo. As if still empowered by the director, she continued her dictatorial rantings, going then to the point where she banned everybody from the printers and decided that only the secretaries will print. She, of course, didn't say a thing, she just had it done, so over night important documents couldn't be printed out because there was no printing! The reason? There's a lot of people printing personal stuff on the office printers, and the costs are high.

This time the office reacted furiously sending out e-mails about the measure, and who does she think she is to make such decisions, not talking it over with nobody and not informing anyone of her decisions. She bicthed back saying that costs need to be cut and a lot of people abuse of the printer. Now really? She's the first to print out every silly, personal thing she has, she uses the company vehicles and the driver to run her personal errands... and now you can't print out a note because it might be personal?

From the quarrel it came out that she plans to buy a software that allows her to identify who prints what and so have an idea of what is the printer being used for, and who are the ones printing the most. Dude, with the desk printers EVERYBODY HAS you have that without buying a software. You simply count how much paper and ink people is requesting. That simple.

It's just amazin how there's people who love to bitch about the others and control them, but can't control themselves.

The Air France Question

There should be no doubt in anybody's mind about the airline I love the best in the planet. Not many people likes and and many more complain up and down and all the way around about it, but I can't but praise it. That wonderful, amazing, one-of-a-kind, sublime airline is no other than Air France. So it gets late often, what's the rush? They certainly pick up the speed up in the air! So they delay your luggage, it isn't like after crossing the ocean you are thrilled about carrying your overstuffed suitcases anywhere. So a plain crashed in the middle of the ocean and everybody died, shit happens, besides, it's not like they crash a plane every year, now do they? I love their onboard attention, their food, their movie selections, the leisure you feel up there and how all flight attendants smile at you are always ready to help you in any way they can. I don't mind any of the other things, but often even see them as indirect conveniences that make my life and my trip so much easier. Then, as Air France connects through Paris, spending some time there isn't either something I would just brush off my shoulder! Charles De Gaulle is my favorite airport by far (I speak some French and everybody is nice to me, so perhaps that's the reason), and Paris is certainly my favorite city in the whole planet (not that I have visited every city in the whole planet, but Paris is my favorite). A ticket with Air France is much more expensive than a ticket connecting the same destinations with other airlines, such as KLM, Iberia, Lufthansa, just to name a few, yet when the budget isn't so much of a deal, I always pick Air France. Maybe I could get there earlier if I went with KLM, or maybe I would do less stops if I go with Iberia, and maybe, maybe, maybe, but I keep on choosing Air France time and again.

You may say I love the feng shui I get on Air France (I read that on a Feng Shui book I was consulting to get ideas on how to better decorate my future home, given that it is small and I've a freaking lot of stuff - books mostly), but the fact is that I love the way I'm treated by the company, and if I have the dime, I gladly pay what they ask for that chance. I pay more to be treated kindly. I pay more to be around people enjoying their job, and giving away a wonderful, happy vibe. I pay more for smiles. I pay more for delicious food that has been selected carefully by people who know what's a real eating experience, and don't think that tooth paste between two sheets of notebook paper can pass for a sandwich. I pay for that, and I do it happily.

For a while now, I've noticed that year after year - usually by the end of it - the employees of the airline are going on strike. Flight attendants, now pilots, there was onw about maintenance workers, if I recall correctly, and I wonder, what the hell is going on? I've heard that the jobs at the airlines are no longer the wonderful experience they used to be but have been becoming more and more into ruthless lands of carnage and sweatshops. Airlines are falling, and no longer make it into the black, but as the months roll, they sink deeper and deeper into the red. The backs of smaller companies have already cracked and got crushed into bankrupcy - the latest I know of being Malév, the Hungarian airline - which pours more and more airline workers into the market, and putting more pressure on the airlines from every angle.

The question now is one: Money, and this is going the worst way possible. And sadly this is true for just about any company in the planet, in any industry there is. It's a fact that each time a company starts getting in trouble, the first thing they think of is to pull the income over the outcome, or in other words: create profit. There are two ways to do this: increase your income, by way of increasing your prices or making sure you sell more units... or both if you can pull that out. The other one is to reduce costs. Now, in the current market situation, probably increasing the price or even trying to increase the number of trips sold isn't much likely, so make pencil sharpening analysts (accountants and business administrators, maybe even a rouge economist or two), select to cut costs. That's okay, I mean, you need to get some earnings, go back to the black, and if you can't sell more, and make more money, try making the same money and producing it with less. It never ceases to amaze me, though, how each time these decisions are aimed at reducing the parts that are important for the service, and that's like shooting yourself on the toe.

The "smart" BAs (I refuse to acknowledge the existence of idiotic economists, so I'll pretend they aren't even people, because they should know better), pull out their massive books of leadership and crisis and administration, and decide to go on cutting in the inputs. Lower quality in foods, a cheaper catering service, reduce the replacement rate of parts, eliminate a meal, eliminate newspapers, magazines and other on board amenities and so on (I'm keeping the example of airlines, though I'm not saying this is what's happening with Air France! Hyne forbid! If I get KLM food on Air France, my world will collide). When that's not enough, they take the knife to the employees. Reduce wages, take away off-days, sick-days, cut contracts, eliminate rights and benefits... and then come the layoffs. These people safely locked away in their office buildings, can't possible understand how all of these cuts take away from the quality of the service, from the customer experience cutting actually on the one thing that makes it stand unique, that has earned a differentiating status and created loyalty among customers. Unhappy workers and crappy food along with crappy service - it's what you get for reducing the expense on quality (if all you care is money, then so your workers will care only about the money and will send the quality of your product down the sewer... not like you showed you care), and it will make you yet another gray brand in a pool of gray brands where one can disappear an nobody would notice.

Though mathematically and even economically it makes sense to cut costs when you can't raise your income, I've always wondered why in the fucking hell, if they are so bent on getting the company back on its feet, they don't cut the expenses where it affects less the product. Like, the wage of the CEO and all those on the top floor. How about in times of crisis you get read of a handful of middle  managers and slash the wage of the remaining ones so that all of them get the paycheck of a... flight attendant? If the flight attendant can make a living out of it, sure the CEO can as well! Besides, it would be only while the company gets on it's foot again. But that would be the day a bunch of managers do that, and why? Because just as they have the face to demand their workers to "make it for the team" and "accept the cut so that we all can keep our company up", they are too selfish and aren't willing to bite the bullet. They want to save the company as long as others do the saving, because they want to keep the "benefits they are entitled to".

Just take a look at the banking system in the United States four years ago: their world was collapsing, they were dragging the economy down with them, they claimed for help, people spoke in the news and anywhere in the TV willing to listen about how it was a problem of "everybody", how this was going to affect Everybody, and how Everybody needed to be saved with a bailout. They didn't cut expenses by cutting the over inflated wages and eliminating the obscene bonuses they awarded to their managers and top floor - as a matter of fact, once they've got their bailout, those where to first ones to get paid! - they took the knife to their customers and they smaller workers. If the 80% of middle managers in a bank where to be eliminated, and the wage of the CEO made equall to that of a teller, you could go to a bank and wait for the exact same amount of tellers to get your errands done. If you usually have 10 tellers at your local bank, and 100 customers, each teller takes 5 minutes per customer, you could be out in 50 minutes - more or less. If anything, certainly some issues would also take longer because there would be less managers stamping their signature on the paper to get it approved. Butm if you keep all the managers and the wage of the CEO and cut the costs by firing tellers, maybe even closing some branches, the you'll end up with 5 tellers attending to 200 customers, and you'd be in line for nearly 4 hours. You lose, the economy loses as usually the fired tellers would be more in number than the potentially fired middle management, and only the CEO and the top floor would be happy, specially because thy today work at a bank, and tomorrow at a technology company and they can't care less, all the care of is the check they cash.

The modern, liberal economical philosophy many praise these days are exactly about this: have the freedom to act whichever way that makes sure the top floor can keep milking the customers and the company until this collapses and they can go leech on the next. Liberal economy swears to be the answer to the economical crisis - which was brought to be thanks to their irresponsability, top floor thinking, thank you very much - and I wonder if they can produce the numbers that show how their methods have helped create real, decent jobs from which people can live with dignity. I mean real jobs like the ones you could find at the GM plants in the United States in the 50's-60's, where a wage could feed a family of four with a house in the suburbs, with a lawn, a dog and a white picket fence. I don't mean the current Foxxcon-like jobs where workers jump off the roof is desperation or die due to the unhealthy and insecure conditions.

How many little businesses have made it... from the total of little businesses started. Because you can say "Oh, 1000 made it last year", and it doesn't say a thing. It's different if you say that 1000 from 4000 started have succeeded, than saying 1000 from 1.000.000 made it. These are numbers sometimes should be sent when you are laying off people and telling them that the change is okay and they should try to make it on their own, start a new business and show them 2 or 3 "success cases", like that actually makes a difference.

So, when I see news about strikes, before I rush to the fed conclusion that these are ungrateful, spoiled workers, I can't stop thinking about all the fucked up decisions made by those with the numbers in their hands. The big speaches about organizational culture and profits... those are nothing but empty bullshit. Want organizational culture? Don't print out posters, but call on a general meeting all of your employees and tell them that costs need to be curbed, and the first ones biting the bullet are the top floor, taking on one wages of people who have no subalterns, and removing all middle managers - those who have the capability and are willing, will become regular workers like the rest of them, those who don't are leaving the company. Then tell them that if things don't get better by this time, you'll ask them to please bite the bullet as well. If you were to do that, you would be surprised at what your workers are able to do.

Wanna Know

Why does everybody want to know what are you doing? Really, like I gara ask this Professional College thing to let me go on as an Absent Member for a while, and they want to know why. I say: "I've personal reasons" and they want papers PROVING my personal reasons. Oh, and my travel itinerary isn't enough, I gara prove I'm leaving the country, and I gara do it personally. Yes, in a world full of all sorts of technological options, I have to go all the way to the building of this college and leave there the letter. No e-mail, no fax, no nothing: it's gara be personal. I nearly had a fit about it, specially because now it seems that an itinerary isn't enough, and I'll have to scan and send them the scanning of my passport showing them that I left the country.

What the FUCK??? All that should matter is that I won't be here, that I'll be Absent. I'll pay nothing and add to it, I won't be able to enjoy any of the benefits of being a member. I'll be basically just holding up my number. That's all, so... what the fuck? Do they also want a letter from my auntie stating that I'm there and I brush my teeth every night?

A Weekend of Everything

A very stressful weekend is ending. I feel quite at loss right now, can't hold onto anything solid as things are shifting and changing around me, and here I am, having to pack up my life to move it several thousands of miles away. I don't have enough room to pack, to make any sort of system work just right, but I manage, and still, it looks like more than half of my life will still be left behind. I moved once - in 1996 - how did I do it? How on Earth did I manage that, fitting my life in one suitcase? And now, three suitcases don't seem to be able to house me.

I started my system deciding what was the most important for me: what couldn't I live without? What couldn't I replace? Books and DVDs. So I made these items the core of my suitcases - plus one suitcase with a core of a really large make up box. Clothes - though I love them! - I decided that they could be sent after me, or I could shed some of them. Same goes for the shoes and the purses. Besides, those are things you can buy... even prettier! So clothes, shoes and bags were my "stuffer". Watches and jewelry got into ziploc bags and became "primary stuffers", which meant that those went into the suitcase after the cores did. I selected then for each suitcase a pretty heavy core, filled the back of the suitcase with clothes to even it out, put the core an started "filling". Smaller books, smaller DVD's, some things we've got for the house...

We are supposed to travel with four suitcases - keep our fingers crossed that the airline lets us check in one extra piece each ^_^' - so there's one last suitcase that we must fill, but we don't have that suitcase yet. God willing my brother will lend it to us, and we'll need it. I haven't packed yet my boyfriend's stuff, and so many of my decoration stuff, and my yoga mat are still unpacked!

This is a chaos, and I hate chaos.

A Happy Discovery

After having both of my lower wisdom teeth extracted last week, (one of Wednesday and the other one of Thursday), I've been doing quite well. No major problems, virtually no pain (except for the expected pull here and there from the work done) and everything just swell.  Three days of vacations - which I've taken to have the procedures done and an extra day to link it to the weekend, so I can get a decent amount of rest - have gone flying by so quickly. Still, the looming of Monday and another work day doesn't bother me at all: these are the blissfull days of someone knowing that work is reaching an end (and hopefully a new job will arrive in time ^_^). However, what's pissing me off currently is the baby food. Yes, the baby food.

After having your teeth removed, like with most surgeries that touch any part of the digestive system (and the mouth is part of it, in case you didn't know), you are commanded to eat only soft foods, and soft foods are mainly soups and baby food. Normally I love baby food, and indulge from time to time with a jar or two of peach or prune "2nd Food". From time to time it's fun and delicious, but three days on the row... or more like four now, eating only baby food it's becoming too much. It's ennerving! I've spend days eating less than 1000 calories a day (I know for I keep the count of the calories now with the fitbit), when before that I kept going over the daily recommended amount (2000) and by far (once I've got 6000 ^_^). So, this is when I start dreaming about food and the day I'll be free again to stuff my face with whatever I want.

Yesterday, however, as I met with my dear friend Shimmy Gin, I realized that there was something else I could eat while the wounds in my mouth healed: mashed potatoes. *Insert Celestial Music* As we sat chatting at a coffee place nearby, I nursed dearly a plate with delicious, creamy, warm mashed potatoes enjoying every bit of it. Oh dear, how did we got to that point?

Sometimes you can't help it. I couldn't eat anything else if I wanted, because I undergo a procedure and thus I need to give it time to heal, otherwise I could suffer quite unpleasant consequences. I'm losing weight like crazy now, and though I'm not hungry - I was always one fo those who eat little - I'm constantly yearning for something else. I want nachos with garlic seasoned sour cream, bread with sour cream (I love sour cream), buffalo wings, pizza, chicken risotto, sushi, salad, sesame sticks (with garlic and pepper seasoned sour cream), PB&J sandwich... Shimmy told me that after he had all his wisdom teeth removed - and it was a procedure and healing of 44 days! - he got so starved out, that the first day he could eat like a normal (un)civilized person again, he hogged on an insane amount of Chinese food and he felt soooo good about it!

Hopefully my healing period will be shorter - or so my doc has told me - and it will be over just in time for the trip, so I'll probably hog on plane food (it's Air France, so hogging is understood) and then... in Paris. Can't wait for the Escargot!

I'll probably will gain back all the weight I lost with the forced diet, but who cares? Yes, I set myself a goal and it would be nice to work to get it... but food after such starvation is a welcomed blessing, no matter what comes behind. :-)

Do You Know What You're Doing?

That kind of questions come to mind when you are looking at someone who doesn't seem like they do. It's kinda hard because you are thinking "Man, you don't know shit about this, now do you", but often they present themselves or they are presented as "The One Who Knows Best". It would be cool to think that these are the least of people, but sadly that's not the case. In general I've observed that for each person who does know there are at least 1000 who PRETEND to know, and usually the ones who know don't even say so!

Are there ways to spot this people? Well, hardly before hand, but it's easy once they started sharing their "wisdom" and you realize it's going nowhere, or the more it speaks, the less it seems like it makes sense. Some of them also like to pretend to be introduced to a higher level of knowledge - to a secret society, so to say - and so when they see your initial attempts all they do is look at other "initiates" and mock, like "oh, they think that's the way to do it, hahahahaha". Someone who knows may not have the patience to explain you in detail, over and over so you get to share the knowledge (that's me, I'm 0 patience, 0 tolerance and 0 bullshit), but they won't laught at you for not knowing, because they've been there too, and they know that that's where you start.

Someone who knows either helps you understand or tells you where you can find the help you need to understand. Someone who knows - really knows - can actually use simple words and explain clearly to make you understand what you don't know. Someone who knows addresses your question directly, and explains exactly what you need to know, and if it must explain something prior to that, someone who knows, can make that explanation short and to the point making it clear where comes from what you are asking for.

Someone who doesn't know uses big words to pretend to be important. Won't explain and say that you wouldn't understand either. It will speak but make no sense. It would never address your question directly, it will always seek alternative routes to reach only the part they do understand, or the part they have learned to fake.

So, the next time, don't be afraid of call on someone's bullshit, and don't waste your time with the pointless explanations of those who don't know.

Blessed Imbolc!

Blessed Imbolc Everyone! ^_^ Pagan or not Pagan, please let's all join in the celebration of the end of the cold, wintery days! (Though admitedly, I LOVE Winter more than any other season in the planet.) I've been researching a little bit - as usual - about the celebration and have been keeping for myself those things that I can use, which apply to the general frame of my believes and personal philosophy.

Imbolc, more than other celebrations of the Pagan Calendar, remind me of one of my favorite topics: Organization. So how can we live it? ^_^ Here's what I take of it.

This sabbath is basically about the first signs of life, the waking up of nature. The patron (or matron?) of this celebration is Brigid, also known for Christians as Saint Brigid, the Light Bringer. The first flowers push through the snow and bloom, the first green sprouts shyly come out and the days go a bit warmer. In some countries also celebrate the Groundhog Day, which is when the groundhog comes out of it's burrow. If it doesn't go back to it, the Spring has arrived! If not, winter still keeps some more days to reign.

In general, today, as you celebrate the awakening of nature, you also walk out of the time of meditation you've been in since Samhain (Halloween), and are ready to work! But just not yet! In this celebration you live the moment when you prepare to work, when the plans you have been drawing up since Yule (like Christmas), and all those wonderful plans you've been making since New Year. This is the moment when you put down your pencil and stand up to gather all the supplies you need, and roll your sleeves to prepare the fields to sow what you wish to reap this year. And what better way to plough your field than tackling a fun, and healthy Spring Cleaning!! Doesn't that idea gets you giddy? ---- Ok, maybe it's just, Dragonfly, Trish and I...

Pick the scrub, and tackle your closet and drawers. Take a step back and make decisions: What will help you achieve your goals for this year? Is that skinny dress that has been making you feel bad really help your get back in shape, or would that rather be achieved with your tracksuit, that makes you feel great and want to run a couple of laps around the block? Do you need your old backpack and college stuff, or are you ready to take the next step and fully assume your life as a professional? Time to get a promotion or a better job? Then dust out your power suit and cast away from your closet all those clothes that say "yeah, I'm here, but I'd rather be somwhere else". It's time also to get all your tools in order, decide what you need more at hand, and what would take more space than being functional? Naturally, you should have your plans drawn up for this point - these are your blueprints to get what you want done! - and if you don't, what have you been doing since New Year? Recovering from hangover? Dust your plans up, review your New Year Resolutions, your dreams about what you want to achieve, all that planning you should have been doing, and make sure you have all you need to make all that happen! This is the moment to drop all excess baggage, warm up, flex your muscles and prepare: your fabulous work is just ahead!

There is something quite beautiful and fabulous about separating the planning from the preparing. You don't go planning what you'll sow and buy the implements at once. By separating both things you can plan quietly, on a larger scale, break it into smaller bits to be accomplished in different periods... and undo it and do it again if it doesn't work! Now you have your plans, you know what you want, you have your instuctions, so you stock up for all that you decided to do.

So, arm up, smile, get deep into cleaning, selecting, organizing and prepare everything to get your goals! Blessed Imbolc, All!!

Tick-Tock Tick-Tock

Days are going by at the same pace it has since the first tick-tock of the world. Second by second, minute by minute, all days measure the same. 24 hours, each of them made of 60 minutes, each of which is composed by 60 seconds, and a second is a blip. Yet now time seems to fly. It was New Year not so long ago, and my boyfriend and I were taking a plane back to Costa Rica, from the beautiful, paradisal Dominican Republic, where the party is eternal, and the priorities in life have shifted from the material to the emotional. Now it's already February, and tomorrow will be the birthday of Tuesday Writer, and Imbolc - all in one and quite befitting.  Snow melts, allergies rise like the tide - and I'm riding one of those motherfuckers as we speak - and life changes.

Today started different from yesterday. I didn't have to wake up insanely early, for I didn't have to go to work: I took out vacations for my dentist appointment, and since I have to appointments - today and tomorrow - and both of them are big - cordal extractions - I also took Friday for "surgery recovery". Don't get me wrong, my dentist is an angel sent to Earth to do teeth, but once you are out of his office and the anaestetics wear off, it's like you were hit by a truck on the jaw. Besides, who goes back to work on Friday after half a week out?

I've got plenty rest - all recorded now by my trusty and wonderful Fitbit ^_^ - and now here I am, sitting home,  a bit bitchy because I can't do much exercise and push up my badges on fitbit.com, and eating baby food. I don't bitch about the baby food, I love baby food! Tooth extraction is just a good excuse to indulge on industrial amounts of baby food. Of course, not any baby food, only prune and peach. Who the hell would eat meat and veggies? Or mango and banana? :-P

Unlike many people, I actually like extractions, though I'd only agree to the extractions of my judgment teeth, all others only if the replacement is right there - I'm quite vain -. Unlike caries or cleanings, extractions don't involve any buzzing, and I hate that irking, vibration that feels like scratching a blackboard. So, basically I went to the doc hopping and smiling and came out the same, and can't wait for tomorrow to get my next out-of-this-world experience!

But what for the rest of the day? In here, with the days going tick-tock, tick.tock, knowing and I'm left only 3 more days of work, it downs to me that it is really time to take account of my belongings and start to pack. Oh dear, fit my like in a suitcase... or two... or four (and hand luggage). Get down to finish some letters, work on a scrapbook project I'd like to finish for tomorrow and then wonder and pray... whether I'll be able to go to yoga on Sunday. I certainly would love to see how my fitbit likes that. 

Tick-tock, tick-tock, the days go by and a new season starts where the old one ends.

Measure What You Eat

Well, after struggling quite some with my fitbit, I believe I've finally got the hang of it. Not without the help of Farrah, an unseen kind lady from the Customer Service who has been tremendously kind at helping me via e-mail to set my lovely little bit to function. As result I'm quite happy - I could say excited - and already doing something I've never done before: I'm counting calories. Man, do you have an idea how tough it is to count calories? I love to log and keep tracks on everything, but calories? And it's not bad when the Fitbit site knows them, or the package has them, it's a nightmare when there's no way you can find them!

So far I've been blowing my dashboard meter pushing the allegedly 1955 calorie daily intake, downing even up to 5000 calories a day. Do I exercise that much? Hell no! But I'm not one to say no to yummy pizza or stuff like that, mind you. However today... today was something.

I had to run this office errand, and I was going to do it on foot. I did it on foot. I had to go from Building A to Bulding B, and usually do that crossing the Metropolitan Park in between. However, as my allergy has been a real bitch recently - runny, stuffy nose and so on - I decided not to chance it with the trees, and went arroun the park, which made me take four times longer to get to my destination. In the way I've got hungry and since there was a Subway around, I decided to stop for an omelette sub and another sub for lunch. The sub for lunch was easy, as I decided to go with one of the healthier choices, but the omelette and cheese sub, with avocado was something else. Normally I wouldn't think about it, just pay it and eat it, but this time I was thinking: "how am I going to log this?". No, Fitbit didn't have the information, nor did Subway, who aside from the healthy choices, fails to disclose the caloric value of all other options. This brought me nearly to the point of NOT INDULGING IN AN OMELETTE AND CHEESE SUB just because I had no idea, how to log it. Yes, please notice, it wasn't a matter of maybe eating something that could make me gain weight, it was a matter of not being able to write it down.

In case you wonder, I ate it and logged then an "educated guess", based on similar products I found after googling "calories in an omelette and cheese sub".

Don't get me wrong, I'm loving my fitbit, and I love my account - to which I'm logged more than to my facebook account - but sometimes I do stop to wonder, whether this is sane. Is it ok to measure everything you take to your mouth? Shouldn't you just eat and run without thinking about the statistics, and just enjoying what you do?

The Art of Minding Your Own Business

Today I read a very interesting story in the column of Miss Manners, on the Washington Post. The reader writing was a concerned mother-in-law who was bitching about how far her son and his girlfriend lived from her, how ugly was the decoration of the house, how the daughter-in-law was so disrespectful as to not change her shoes for she had told her that she's too tall to wear high heels, and on top of everything, they haven't prepared for her visit, but pretended to let her choose what she wanted to do. If that weren't enough, she started a fight with her son and the daughter-in-law, and this last one even had the nerve to break down crying "obviously to make her son feel bad". Worry not, Miss Manners put the hag on her place.

Now, I must admit that whenever I read a letter like that I wonder seriously if it's a real letter, or the columnist is taking it out on someone who acts like that. If it's a real letter - which I still seriously doubt - said person should really take a minute before sending it to read it and check on the problem by themselves. If it's not - as I suspect - the columnist should really consider to ban the mother-in-law from the house. However, be it a real letter or not, be it a true story or not, this time around what caught me was a problem that's not only shared by annoying mothers-in-law, but also by many other people around the planet in many other of their relationships: they keep sticking their nose in other people's business.

There are the coworkers who can't find themselves other occupation but to go around gossiping about others, grabbing whatever little bit of information to distort it into a press stopping headline. There's the friend who can't stop talking about their other friends who keep doing this or that, and continually tell them what should they be doing. There's the relative who thinks they know better than the others what the others should do with their lives, and there's also the self appointed guru who may or may not appear on TV telling everybody what should they do, read and buy. And though often these behaviors are masked as "concern" they seldom are, as often they try to make decisions about something that doesn't concern them and for which they haven't been even consulted.

Why does it bother you how someone else decorates their house? Why does it bother you if someone decides to ditch college? Why does it bother you if someone quits a well paying job to follow an independent, artistic lifestyle? Are you living in that house? Does it affect you directly that college-ditching? Do you depend on that income and are really unable to supply for your needs another way?

Recently I was really upset about the HHRR lady spilling the beans about my permit to people who don't need to be involved, along with information nobody REALLY needed to know. It wasn't her business and there was no forseeable benefit she could pull from releasing that information. If anything it was only inconvenient for me and my boss, but it wasn't a fatal wound or anything of the sort. I concluded her life was terribly drab and colorless and she evidently needed some excitement and the only excitement was someone like me preparing for a grand and exciting adventure not everybody gets to live. I still sustain that theory.

Then, after reading this story about the horrible mother-in-law, I started wondering, not why people do that, but whether we do it too even when we don't mean to. When concern ends and being nosy begins? Some time ago I was pondering about the matter, as I was being pulled too deep into the marital problems of a friend of mine. Soon it started to consume me, as she dished detail after detail about her husband's lack of interest, his laziness, his unwillingness to hold his end of the relationship, and even about his multiple affairs. Eventually I was so soaked in her problems that it was all I could think or talk about. It was then that realization hit me - by the way I was looked at by other acquintances - that I was being seen as a nosy person. This is where self examination came into place.

I sat down with myself and pondered why was I so deeply in my friend's problem. Was it my marriage? No. Was it REALLY affecting me directly? No. Could I effectively do something to sole the situation? No. Then what the fuck am I doing? How come I can rely on God to do His part of the heavy lifting in my life, but I can't trust a grown person to manage her own life?

Sometimes we get swirled into other people's problems and we believe it's our duty to get involved and "try to help", but before you become a nosy person minding other people's business instead of your own, consider the following filter questions:

1. Is it a situation that involves you directly?

2. Does it really affect you directly? (Makes you worry doesn't apply. Loving that person doesn't apply.)

3. Can you effectively do something to solve the situation?

If the reply to any of this is "no", then it's not your business, and you should walk away. If you don't you are being nosy, and then, sadly, you are up to trouble as more than once you'll be yelled for it, and you'll be wasting your time and effort concentrating on something that won't yield you any results.

Night Out With My Girls

Have you gone to see a movie twice, so that you can go watch it with your friends? Or maybe even more times so that you can get "the hang" of it? Well, I'm one of those people who can go and watch the same movie a gozillian times and the buy the DVD so I can keep watching it until the end of times. Evidently I am one of those and in this occasion the movie I went to see twice was Sherlock Holmes 2: The Game of Shadows. In here I won't go into the details of the movie for you can read that in any film critic site, and I'm not one to go repeating what others say. That's boring - and takes the fun out of both blog writing and blog reading. Wouldn't you agree?

The first time I went, it was with my boyfriend. I'm quite a fan of movies, and go as often as I can - as long as the movies shown are to my liking! - while he's not. In the past lot of years he has gone only when I've taken him to the movies, and that's not that many times. (Well, once settled in Hungary, that's going to radically change!) This was a couple of weeks ago, and we went to the VIP theatre. The experience of the VIP was so marvelous he decided Hungary NEEDED dearly the VIP experience. He would run and open VIP movie halls, if he could!

To evaluate this movie you should honestly compare it with the first one, but the first one left me so cold, I can't recall enough of it to pass judgment. This one, however, was charged heavy with slash. I though it was going to be an action movie, so what the heck, he would probably like it, but I never expected my eyes to bulge out and my hands to curl into a fist wishing to have my slasher friends close to hold their hands and scream in delight. Thus, the decision was made and we decided to go out the three of us to evaluate the slashiness of the movie. We met at our favorite commercial center - a large and posh commercial center at the South of the capital, in one of the most exclusive areas of the Metropolis. Once there we realized that they wheren't presenting the movie any more. That was like a slap on the face! However there was a nearby mini commercial center built around an IMAX movie theatre, where they were still showing the movie. We had to wait some two hours still, sort of, but we were cool, as we were going to drive there.

Before leaving we went to have something to much on while I presented them with the marvel of mangas on the Kindle and they passed me some digital mangas as well. It was like in the old times, when the three of us met with other friends to gap about yaoi mangas and yaoi animes, and yaoi anything for hours, sharing CDs and mini CDs full of whatever we have managed to hunt down in our cruises through the gutters of the Internet. 

From there we went to the movies only to discover that the 18:45 show was sold out. The horror. We wanted desperately to see that movie, so what to do? After a bit of debate we decided to get tickets for the next showing, at 21:30. I called home to let my boyfriend know that, no, I wasn't dead, I just didn't get tickets at any of the showings I expected, so I was going to stay with the girls for the 21:30 - the last one. With the tickets in hand we went to the Sports Bar in the complex, where the girls relished in ordering mouthwatering delicious cocktails with enough alcohol in them to fly a Boing 777 from Bali to Corsica, while I - minding the driving - had to make due with a virgin Piña Colada. The downside of driving.

There we spent a nice time between more gaping about mangas and yaoi and recently seen movies, and work stories and travel stories (Kate has recently come back from a trip she did to Peru, I believe, from which she showed us the most funny videos where her deadpan serious comments made a banal image of people walking unto an account about the last days of civilization befire the rise of the zombies), and then some disturbing images about kickboxing matches that looked just like... mating. There, while many watched intently the match, we tried to figure out how could two men locked in a tight embrace, pushing to be on top, grabbing each other's asses actually pass for a sport. Because if that's a sport, I might believe I have been practicing on the bed quite often...

The time for the movie arrived, and we took our seats in the regular movie hall (the VIP was showing something else), and we giggle like schoolgirls about a thing or two, then showing annoyment as the image was cut and a portion of the upper end of the film was seen on the lower end of it. Quite unnerving. However the problem got fixes in the first 5 minutes of the movie and soon we were able to enjoy the film, grabbing hands and turning to each other mouthing "Oh My God!" and "Did you see that!!?". However the best scene, the grand scene was the dance scene. There we sat, the three of us, linked by the hands and holding our breaths in excitement, only to mutter at the end of the movie: "I didn't get it... how can they explain it to the non-slasher public?"

The mystery may remain forever unsolved, but the three of us walked out of the movie hall, minutes before midnight, with a large grin and plans to run down the Internet looking for slash fic.

Fit

Some time ago I bought for myself a fitbit ultra, which is this thingie that counts your steps, and how many calories have you burned and stuff like that. Since my friend Dragonfly-cr started running and wearing one of these to measure her performance, I was pondering getting myself one of those, basically to start running too. I wasn't planning on running here, though, as if I do I would mainly be running away from robbers and kidnappers (my neighbourhood has proved that safe...), but I do was planning on starting to run in Hungary, preferable at the Margit Island, which has a lovely running path made of something that's soft and feels cool. This things are called "pedometers" or something like that. Checking them on the Internet wasn't all that easy, mind you, as there were features I didn't get, and none of the mentioned things were clear about whether you need something else to go with them. Also, with prices running from $20 to $200 there was no way I could pick safely something that was really good and what I needed.

Luckily when boyfriend and I were flying back from Dominican Republic, I read on the plane's magazine - Destinos - (we went on Taca) about the fitbit. A page in two languages dedicated to explaining shortly this device made me decide that this is the one I'll get, and so I did (specially because I could get it in plum, not necesarity in blueberry, as you know that blue and I don't get along very well). The fitbit came with an internet page where you can track your progress and keep your statistics. Calories consumed, calories burned, activity, mood, and so on. A real delight for someone so into keeping track and tabs like me (who have been keeping tabs on my weight, not like it changes and not like I would do a thing to change it!), however... my Hyne if this is a hard thing to get by! The fitbit is all nice and cute, but it doesn't seem to be accurate. I climb 15 flight everyday to get to the office, and it says I climb 22. I end up climbing from 29 to 44 and the counter says 75 to 88. I walk distance of five meters and it claims I've taken 500 steps. What am I? A geisha??

The page also gives you an account on the calories you have eaten, for which you log every single food you eat. It's nice and cool, and rolls out a list from where you pick what did you have, and that's okay, and all, but it gets me thinking, that getting fit isn't as easy as one would think. With a thingie like this, it's not only a matter of will, it's a matter of patience. Does this really motivate? And in general, if you have a sendentary life like mine, how further do you get with a program that keeps you in front of your computer logging in your weight and every single snack bar you chew?

My goal isn't to lose weight - what for? I'm fine the way I am - but to keep myself healthy, move and keep my body well. That's why I go to yoga classes too, so is a dashboard to work with keeping me from effectively be more active or is really helping me, thoughI don't know that yet?