Two Down, Two to Go

*cowboy music* ♪♪ Pananananannnnn! Pwaaa Pwaaa Pwaaaaaaaa! Pananananaaaaannn! Pwaaa Pwaaaa Pwaaaaaa! Pananananaaann! Pwaa Pwa-Pwa-Pwa-Pwaaaaaa! Pananananaaaan! Pwaaa Pwaaaaaaaaaaa! ♪♪ *cowboy music* The day was sunny. It was a perfect day to meet The Rival face-to-face and fight. It was a Western Showdown, where the Quicker Draw would prevail, the Slower would have to leave town. Saturday Morning. That was the date. The expectations of the Town were high, and as the moment came close, women rushed the children inside, men closed the window panes of stores and pubs. The hour came. A quick draw, some gunshots were heard echoing in the space, sound ricocheting from the walls, and a pained moan. The Quicker Draw, know as The Fastest Card of This Side of The Mississipi belted her gun again, safe in the holster, cocked back, safety in, and watched from under the rim of her Stetson how the golden rival, once so powerful was reduced to a piece of plastic. Another credit card debt cancelled. She smirked but still didn't claim victory. Like the Horsemen of the Apocalypse, these rode in four. Pestilence and Death were dealt with. War and Famine were yet to be taken care of.

Well, Wild, Wild West Story aside, yes, this Saturday I paid off and cancelled the debt swelling in the second of my credit cards. Hell, no sweeter emotion has been known to men. *thinking about it and making a mental list of all sweet emotions known to men* Nope, not one as GREAT and FULFILLING as getting rid of debt. These two, now brought to 0 were the ones I labelled as "The Dangerous Cards". Higher limits, higher interest rates: death traps sugarcoated in gold and platinum. The feeling was much like finally getting the divorce papers from a troublesome marriage. Now we are free from each other, the card don't hold me down, and whenever we meet again, it will be on my terms, on my watch, no strings attached. No more rabid spending, no more spending and not checking the amount spent. No more payments under the Cancelling Amount and as over the Minimal Payment as possible. No. Now it is a matter of rational shopping, and paying the whole debt. The card is back to be my bitch. (Excuse my vocabulary.)

This Saturday was an awesome day for me. Not only I slaughtered the second Dangerous Card, but I also found out that I can finally pay my Oriflame bills at a far more convenient bank! Yes! No more 3 hour lines to pay a bill! It was also my Dad's birthday and I was totally out of ideas about what to give him, because the one thing I had thought so was unavailable. Damned. However, I made a great choice by buying for him a light green guayavera. In truth, nothing pleases more a pro-Latin American man than a traditional guayavera shirt. So, I pulled that off nicely too! Dad was beyond himself.

I made some ground meat rissoles or patties and some rice, since Mom wasn't feeling well (she may have eaten something bad, because she was complaining about her tummy, but then she was well), which turned out to be great. Well, I was having a great day, so no wonder! So, inspite of Mom feeling a bit under the weather for a few hours, Saturday was one of those "Nothing Can Go Wrong" days. Have you had any of those? You know, those days when you are on the top of the world, the Universe seems aligned to please you and everything is just good. Yeah, that was this Saturday for me.

I spent my day resting, watching TV, wolfing on coke, chocolate icecream with chocolate whipped cream, chocolate waffle sticks and sugared figs, reading mangas and basking in the feeling of freedom being recovered away from the debt chains the bank had me tied down with for so many years. This movie "Confessions of a Shopaholic" came to my mind, and yes, the feeling of being able to pay your dues and elicit pleasure from it, of waving away the Siren Call of windowshops and tell all the sparkly, fancy, pretty things in there "Yes, you are gorgeous indeed, but I don't really need you". The movie wasn't one that really deserved much of my attention, I even considered it somewhat overdone and stupid, irrational at merely suggesting that you can solve all your credit card problems by holding a garage sale of all your things. Lets just be honest: how many of us can do that? Outside the U.S., where it seems garage sales are everyday happenings.

Now, thought I still think the movie is a bit overdone and too fairly-tale-like, the remastered message goes: you can bit your debt, you just have to work it! (And above all, you must be able to STOP before the cards go Godzilla on You!) There is a way out, you just have to stick to it! It is hard, I won't lie, and it's gonna take time, and some times lots and lots of time, but if you are driven, if you are determinated and assume the sacrifices you can make it work. Be happy with all the little victories you conquer, but do not celebrate falling back to the same rathole you just climbed from. Keep kicking and pushing and working and fighting until you are free. And once you are Free, cherish the feeling, embrace your status and defend it!

You can do it, you just have to really believe that you can fly.

Pocoyotizing

A friend of mine, known in the underworld as Dankenzon, made a pocoyotized image of himself, and here I though I could do the same. So I requested the link from him, and this is what I've got.

Cool, huh? You can make them look like anything you want, so as a first try I made the Pocoyotized character to look as much as me as possible. Smurf says it doesn look like me. I guess it's close. What do you think? There ain't much options, though, which is why I can't make the doll to get my skin color, which tends more towards some... caramelized tone, and she is just waaaay too white. Yeah. But I'm not racist :-). White is fine. A lot of people actually consider me white (though none of them are European. For Europeans I am definitivelly "dark". Then again, Europeans know about white, right?), so I guess for them the doll is just fine.

The Word of Women According to Libertarian Representatives

The figures had slowly come afloat and after a smashing, unanimous rejection, the President told the people that if the New Salary Raise Proposal passed the second debate and landed on her desk, she would veto it. It would have passed since the officialist party, PLN had joined forces with the libertarian party, ML, earning so half of the votes. It was all set and decided. Their salary would go from 2,1M/month to 4,3M/month. It seems that the President had originally agreed with the proposal. It seems, though no one has said that the President has indeed said so, nor the President has denied that.

There were people marching, protesting for it, and so the President decided to speak against it and veto it if it got to her. One of her reasons to do so was that it would benefit her once she leaves the presidency, as all former presidents get a retirement pension equal to the salary of the representatives.

Needless to say that the people celebrated, praised her name and chanted her campaing slogan happily, but not everybody was happy, and though her party's representatives bowed and took the decision with pretended humbleness, those from the ML ranted. One of them, whose name escapes me, in evident anger for losing the bet, put the whole thing in a different light, saying that they (PLN and ML) had formed a coalition, that they were said they had the support of the President, and if that was the way things were going to work, PLN says one thing one day and then other another day, then the coalition wouldn't work. Okay, so far so good. The heavy stuff came when said man (yeah, it was some old, balding dude. I checked them on the Asamblea Legislativa site, and it looks a lot like this Adonay Enríquez guy, but I can't really identify him all that well from the picture. It was in the news, in channel 11, though.) started saying that it said a lot about women. Yes, you heard read me well. This representative, whom I guess gives the credit of all his votes to men only, and who would probably love to take the sufrage right away from women, continued saying that men have word, of course they have, that's a thing of men; and that by having now a woman President, he expected to see women starting to have word, and yet this shows that not such thing is possible.Yes, because if this happened with a small thing such as this, then what could they expect with more important bills? If the President will make all her decisions based on what the masses want.

Oh dude yeah! The horror! The catastrophe! Just imagine that! A Government lead by the People. That would be like letting The People run the country. No, no, that can't be good, right? I mean, like the dude said, that's no way to build Governability. And of course, this type of calamities happen when you put a woman on the power because women have no word. You know, you can't trust them.

He can rant all he wants about the party and how irresponsible they are and all that. I guess it's their fault after all, since they decided to party with the winners. All a bunch of slime bags. What offended me deeply was the way he talked about women. What's that crap about us not having word? Is it that word to him means to convey to get rich and pull profit from others and then lie to the people but keep the promises made to the co-conspirators? That's not "word", dude, that's a maffia!

This far up in history, already in the 21st century, one would expect people to stop thinking that there are substantial differences between men and women other than the biological ones. Morally, intellectually, emotionally and in other many levels the only difference between men and women is the difference between one person and the next. We are all people, we are all humans, and all of us, no distinction of race, age, gender, religion or whatever makes us more or less trustworthy. We can all have word and we can all keep it. Also, we can all change our mind, if that's the case, or stay put on what we believe. The word is something we build and earn for ourselves, it's something we make and keep by our own, by our actions, not because we are men or women. 

But words of hate like those show one thing and one thing only: lo there, in the lines of the Costa Rican Representatives there is a man who judge you for your exterior, a man who will attack your for being different, who won't listen to reasons but diminish you for what God has made you. Lo there, an Imbecile in the lines of Representatives.

Magic The Gathering Color Quizz

Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.

Hey!!! I am NOT Parasitic nor amoral! Sure, I may not value social standards and positions as high as other people - mind controlled trolls - but I do have morals, and quite strong, I may add! As for parasitic, don't get me started! So sure, I do experience some joy at thrashing the crappy work of maggots who wouldn't get it right even if they wanted to, but that's not being parasitical, that's being mean and murderous, which yeah,I won't deny. That's me, "Spirit Breaker, Mind Crasher, Hope Destroyer, Soul Reaper". Damned, I should have my own character in Supernatural. Yeah, well there's not "at my worse" truth to be told...

Take the Magic: The Gathering 'What Color Are You?' Quiz.

Okay, here's the thing. I am green and black. I actually play or used to play with a bicolor deck. Green and Black instead of being "enemies" actually complement each other well. I love life and value power (the electrical type? Or the bio-power ^_^). I am resourceful, instinctual (though I seek to control that), unpretentious (sometimes) and unashamed (which I call PROUD, and I'm proud to be proud!). As for being vicious, yes I am, but that's not a flaw or a "worst", that's a ... feature.

Hey, how would that look on a tee shirt!? :-)

Rain and Me

It's raining. I wouldn't mind that fact much - I would actually love it - except that it started REALLY raining when I was out doing office errands. Now my trousers are wet from the knee down, and the sleeves of my shirt are wet also, and to say that it's driving me mad, would be an understatement. I wish right now for nothing else but to take my clothes off and wait for them to dry. Hate the feeling of wet clothes!

After getting to the office, peeling back by bright aqua-green raincoat and putting my things down, I went to the bathroom, where I stood with my scarf tied as a skirt around my hips for I don't know how long trying to dry my shoes, socks and trousers, all the while cursing for not taking my rubber boots for the trip. Should have. That way at least my shoes and socks would have been saved. Oh well. Now I have to wait for my normally steaming-hot office to do the magic and dry my clothes. (Oddly, either I am losing sensitivity on my legs or I feel my pants... dry.)

This thing, by the way, is a curse I have. You see, no matter what, but during the rainy season at least once I get SOAKED while wearing pants. Have gotten soaked in dresses (actually remember getting soaked wet in a Benetton dress, which I was able to fully dry under the hand drier!), but always-always get soaked at least once while wearing pants. Then again, it could have been worse, it could have been jeans. Now that would have been really unfortunate.

In moments like this I also mind not having a desk top, as CPU's are awesome drying devices. Oh well, the UPS will have to do it.

I'd love to be home right now, wearing dry, comfy clothes, drinking coke and watching TV, or answering letters from my friends (which reminds me that I'm stuck with another letter again! But this time ain't because I've no idea how to answer it, but rather because I've like so much to answer to it! It's turning into a Coppernican Letter!), and stuff like that. The other day I wanted, but like really wanted to read a manga I haven't read in ages, called "Only the Ring Finger Knows"... or something like that. I checked where I keep my mangas (which is now  everywhere I used to keep my books, since basically all my books have been shipped to Hungary, and I don't want my folks to see my room empty and feel that I will leave anytime now, even if that could be the case), and it wasn't there. Checked up and down and all the way around and nothing. So I came to the conclusion that we packed it and it's now in Hungary. I've been re-reading again all my yaoi mangas and pretty much read them all... again, so I was looking for something I haven't read recently. Anything. Okay, anything but Ororon (good art, stupid plot), Paradise Kiss (interesting plot, but that doesn't make it good), Mars (good art, corny plot), Angel Sanctuary (awesome art, good plot until it nukes the fride, or like I say 'brings back the Winchester'), Candidate for Goddess (I really gara get rid of that), Petshop of Horrors (I went on a speckof hope that never came through. Gara get rid of that), King of Hell... Chuck! I have a lot of mangas to get rid of!

Anyways, it happens that today in the morning, I spotted it! Yep, there it was, the manga, in yet another shelve. Right now I'd love to go home and read it. Well, truth is that I just wanna feel comfortable and be a bit lazy. Rain, whether on me or not, always invites me to be lazy. What does it do to you?

How to Screw Your Brand for A Lot of Money

There I was yesterday, comfortably lying on my bed, shoes and socks off, resting my feet after all the walking I had to do. Well, I choose to do, but that's not the matter here. Point is that the TV was on, but I wasn't paying much attention and instead I was browsing on my de-lovely Nagi. Then, I glanced at the TV and saw this... thing. Well, it's not a thing, but a ... an absurdity. This made me think about how utterly stupid the world can be when it's entirely ruled by money with not even a speck of common sense.

You've probably see how nowadays series and sitcoms have sponsors. These sponsors are anounced everywhere, and often related with the given series, with a line like "This shows has been brought by..." and so on. Then, depending on the expected audience so is usually the sponsor. (I guess this is actually chosen by the sponsor, since they want to reach their target market.) For some reason Supernatural is sponsored for us by Concha y Toro, a brand of wine. I would put a car brand or beer or fast food, or jeans, but wine... that's too sophisticated for Supernatural. However, wine, all in all still goes along. Some other shows get shampoo brands, make up brands, photo cameras, phones and so on.  Yeah, so far so good and so boring you don't even look at them, right? Right.

Well, this is kinda how the shock came. Today I discovered which brand in the sponsor of a certain series called "Vampire Diaries". This series is like Twilight Weekly. Yeah, I know, like two movies and I-have-no-idea-how-many books weren't nearly enough, if not too much already. Then again I guess today's youth craves to taste the chalice of pathetic and abhorrently corny. Then again, if I think about it, they totally deserve the sponsor they have.

Yep. Vampires, TEEN vampires to it, are being sponsored by pads, tampons and daily liners. Now, thinking like any regular women out there (unless I'm mistaken) they are being sponsored, actually, by menstruation. So, if there is a connection there like, 'oh teenager girls like these young, handsome vampires and all of them want to be the young, beautiful heroine, and they all are having their first period and suffer from it! How about we bomb them with our product?', I think they kinda... didn't get it well. Lemme elaborate what we all already know by now. Vampires consume blood. Vampires are sponsored by pads. Pads that are ment to be used during menstrual periods. Menstruation that is blood couming out of you for days. One word: Ewwwwww!

Oh, and "daily liners" do not cover it. Kotex, in every mind means "menstruation". Sorry. I really think they should give up this series and maybe go for... "Glee"? "Gossip Girl"? "Trauma"?

...and Back @ Da Office

Ladies and Gentlemen, Today, after a... (1,2,3,4...) 4 and 1/2 day absence I am BACK at the office, live and kicking. Yep, a day that started really-really stormy, to the point of having me change my selected outfit for the day for something else, linen trousers for a skirt (under the knee, since the scar and the scabs are still there), matching blouse and shoes, and putting on from the begining my trusty rubber boots, and now with a brand new aqua-green plastic raincoat, courtesy of my Dad. It's really good even if you look kinda ballooney in it, specially if you tuck your bag under it. (Why wouldn't you? Do you want to look good or do you want to keep your stuff dry? I want to keep my stuff dry. Besides, I'm not out there to pick up someone. I do have standards, unlike others I happen to know, no pun intended.)

It would be beyond the point to tell you that piles and piles of work were waiting for me. No worries, though, nothing I can't manage. My mailbox was also stuffed full with e-mails, sort of as if people didn't get the "memo" that I had fallen flat on my tummy on Monday and that Insurer sent me home on sick-leave. Or what? Did they expected me to still come to work with my knee dripping pus all over the place? Swell people, really swell. Today, however, most of them came to see me and ask me about my knee or "The Accident". Well, the knee and I are fine, thanks for asking. So, they did know I landed like a bull in Pamplona and scrapped up my knee pretty bad. So why-oh-why the e-mails? Then again it is the prerrogative of human logic to be anything but logic - according to the very requierements and definitions for it set by the principles of logic as an exclusively human feature that has allowed mankind to evolve and conquer the world - which gives room for philosophy to try and explain the phenomenon responsible for genius and evolution as well as for failures and gigamontic stupidities.

Oh well, the work is being handled, some of it has already been checked-corrected-sent, others simply requiered a current-status report, no biggie and others requiere all my evil to check-and-destroy. Yep, life can be delightful. This kind of remind me of this letter I was writing yesterday to a beloved, sweet friend of mine, to whom I told that ever since I was a little girl, I loved to play office. I invented all kinds of documents and formulas and stuff and stamped them with my little flower stamps. Remembering that reminded me that I'm actually working in a line I have always loved. In that sense I'm blessed, specially since a lot of people work for the money or work in a given position simply because that's "all they have" and maybe they feel that there's no chance they could make a living by doing what they would love to do. Gara be though. I always wanted to work in an office, with papers, and that's what I do. I wanted to "check" papers and that's what I do. Later on I wanted to be an economist and once again, God spoiling me the way He does, that's what I do. So really, all in all, it's awesome to be me, right?

Then again it kinda got me wondering, why is it that there's so much people unhappy with their jobs, working on something because that's what they can and have to do, but can't do what they would love to do, maybe don't even know what would they love to do, but know that it's not what they are doing. Hn, could it be that today's jobs are like the "arranged marriages" of some centuries ago? That thought puts the whole deal in a quite scary perspective.

Good Satruday

Like any good day, this day started with a brooding stormy look. Milena and I were supposed to meet to work on the thesis, but since there's this inminent threat-of-rain I wouldn't put Nagi in harm's way, so Mile and I decided to work from home and e-mail our results. We are working on the final 25% of our last chapter, but this 25% is quite large, so it could take us quite some time to get done.

Since my day was free that way, I went up to our tiny downtown and to run some errands such as returning the four movies I rented on Thursday, all of which I adored  - it was one of those unique cases when all the movies you rent you have never seen before and all of them are just awesome - and then went to the Post Office to finally - FINALLY! - mail Calendulina's letter. Her letter took me millions and millions of years to finish for a great lot of reasons. It was also filled to the brim with questions and replying to all of them was quite like being expected on writing a Treaty on The Letter Writing, Personal Philosophy and Me. In the end I had to enlist the topics remaining and promise to properly address them in the next letter - if there is a next letter. I mean, lets be honest here, people, Cal wrote to me like in December of last year and I mailed Today. What are the chances of she still wanting to penpal with me? After all, not everybody is a bucket of calm patience for penpalling. (Thanks Chuck I am ^_^)

Yesterday I shot out the TV and sat at my low desk writing until I finished the letter. This time, amazingly, it took me over six hours to get to the last dot. Good thing Kari wasn't anywhere near or I would have to endure him staring at me and wondering when oh' when will it be over. My Kari isn't a writer, so he doesn't really get the rush, the hunger, the experience of delving into the writing and losingf yourself in it. Have you ever had that feeling? When you realize the time passed only because your wrist hurts like hell and you look up while stretching your hand, making circular moves with your wrist and closing your fingers in a fist, and you see the clock on your desk or perched on the nightstand, or the one of the DVD, and for a moment you wonder if the clock is wrong or broken because it certainly doesn't feel like that much time passed.

It kind of doesn't work like that with the typed writing, with the computer writing at least, or at least not for me. Handwriting is magical. Today I'll work on our thesis, typing out some of that 25% we still have to complete, read a letter from Dani, settle my planner and prehaps even write in my journal. Yeah, I have a few private thoughts I would like to leave on paper.

This Saturday is quite. This Saturday is a Good Saturday.

Quiet In Meditation

The day is gloom and rainy, just the way I like it. I've been resting all day, checking with kiddie curiosity the progress on the wound on my knee, looking at the scab on it forming and all its stages. Must say it is most fascinating. I could stare at that scrap all day long.

I've been entertaining myself during these sick-leave days with peaceful activities, thigns that take the edge from me, that bring me back to the paced, soft days of meditation and relaxation. So is that I rented movies and watched them, and they made me thought.

Invictus made me think about the lesson of Nelson Mandela, and the message to be able to forgive even those who have harmed us, to not live with the chance when we get the higher hand and strike them on the spot, but use the opportunity to teach the world, to teach our environment and ourselves about being grand, being human, and being considerate, even if we did not receive the same favor. This is a message I would love to take to the gay community I have met here, who are fast on discriminating and judging those of us, straight people, who tend a hand to them to accept them as people.

I watched Daybreakers and that thought me about rationality, consideration and to stop fooling ourselves that the resources are endless. Sadly science and investment won't go as far as simple, basic human consideration, rationality, taking only what we need, and stop thinking about profit can take us. Sometimes it is time to part from the hunger of money, from greed and go for simple human feelings and impulses.

"Capitalist, A Love Story" got me deep. Though it goes along my line of thinking, Mr. Moore's revealing movie simply made my heart bleed. How could America let the American Dream be corrupted and made into a tool of mass manipulation so that the 1% of the population could bleed white the other 99%? Is the American Dream to erase middle class? To humiliate it? To reduce it into rubble? It made me see clearer what someone said on a note: "MTV is filled with mediocre crap now". More than that, there were middle class families in America, the matter of all that good product, all the muscle behind the Dream slide into horrid poverty, there's a spoiled layer of spenders who take pleasure in making others jump at their whim, make others their toys and slaves. So-called reality shows that show no reality. Not the real, American reality. But a camera crew in Brooklin, shoot that. Put a camera in Louisiana, shoot that. Show how the 99% of the American population leaves, starving, living on food stamps, trying to make ends meet.

That is an insult, and these are the things that have occupied my mind these last two days. For many people outside the U.S. blaming this countrs for everything is easy. Yeah, America is the big evil, but I wonder, is it? Or is just that upper peel, that 1% that even bleeds it's own for profit, that 1% that greedily wolfs into the taxpayer funded bailouts yet keep foreclosing on Middle Class America, that keep tricking it, that keep telling the lie: "If you work hard enough you could get rich". Do they? No, we all know that's not true. One or two extraordinary cases do not make a pattern or a road. Looting on others' mysery, then flaunting their wealth, throwing money out in expensive birthday parties, or showing their mundane wealthy lives for attention, emotionally torturing others, badmouthing them , using them, humiliating them in a competition for love, friendship or a shot at fame, this is the 1% mocking us, all of us, treating us like subhumans, like workforce, slaves, cattle. Things at their disposal, little monkeys that will perform for their amusement, that will bleed for their profit while holding onto an empty promise worse than a no-fund check.

I have meditated, and I have decided that the middle class shall prevail. I don't knoe you, but I want to remain middle class. The promise of richness and fame do not lure me. I want just what I need, and I will not be lured into the trap of more. I like middle class. And why is that? Because I do believe in measure, in knowing when it is enough, in not losing out of sight that I work to be happy, not to make more money.

Maybe it's because I was brought up in a Socialist home, but I do believe that a happy and healthy society with equal oportunities to all does make a happy individual.

What Chance Do We Have in an Election?

The other day I came up with a saying that basically summarizes the reply to that question. "All Theories are Perfect, all Practices are Flawed and all Politicians Know". Costa Rica has elected a female president to rule us for the next four years. We all know by now that the promises voiced during the campaings are just that, promises, and that once one of the runners gets elected all of them will be filed as "ways to trick the people into electing yet another liar". However people keep believing the lies, specially now when politicians pepper their promises with all kinds of social and political theories that allegedly benefit all.

Some push forward the right wing, libertarian positions, which diminish the role of the State in the market, reduce taxes, promote enterprises and partake in every existing Free Trade Agreement. They tell people that this way everybody - if they decide to take the enterpreneur road - will get a shot at richness and success. To make their package a success, they feed people with lines like giving them back their freedom to chose their own health care (never mention that making health care could become too expensive and then getting the private companies to pay for your medical bills can become a nightmare, unlike now, where we pay 9% of our wage and our employer adds 14% of its own, and we get health care without tricks, without questions, without extra payments), chose your own police service, your own insurance, your own firemen department, your own ambulance service. This is all possible because The Market is mighty and according to the theory, the market supplies for everything and gets everything perfect when let free to function.

What they don't tell you is that this never will happen because this theory - The Perfect Competition Market - is a pipedream, a markup upon which economists try out their theories. This theory is supported by suppositions that won't stand in real life, because in real life companies actually find it far easier to put a bullet in the competitions head than improve their product. Just take a telecomm market, any, with more than 1 operator. Is the service good? Do they treat well their customers? It is the service cheap?

Then again, nothing like labeling the counter theory, the more State-centered one, as a Big Bad Communist Tyranic Proposal backed up by all the bad names of the Globe: Chávez, Castro, China. Is that true? Nope.

I am a pro-State person, in case you haven't realized this so far, so I really have little to say against this theory, but I can say this: Benefactor State, Wellbeing Theory are about the State stepping into the socially sensitive areas to balance out the imperfections of the market. What's the downside of this? That concetrating power, just as it happens also in the "Free Market Model" (because there's still a Government, otherwise why would they care so much about being elected?), always breeds greed and greed is a twin child whose sibling is corruption. Though the idea is great, and the middle of the XXth century proves it can make wonders for the economies around the world, truth is that it requieres great believe, great commitment and great balance from every single element of the State machinery to make it work.

As you page your way through the theories and the proposals about how to make a country a better country, and economy a better economy you realize that all of them trip on the same stone: money. Sadly, the idea of making it better for all of us is noble, but there are no noble men (or women) left, particularly not among those who aspire to get elected (thought there might be a handful of exceptions), and when it comes to it, it is far easier to make happy those who have the most leverage (because lobbyist exist for a reason, and that's not the greater good, also contributions to campaings do come with a payback bill which all politics must honor or die trying to), than making people happy. Well, after all, if the people were satisfied, what leverage would the campaings have? What else could you promise to get elected?

Politics know that and that's why the happily go lying up and down to us so that we vote for them every four years.

Just Gimmie A Moment Please!

I know I was supposed to write more often this month and since Saturday I haven't written a word. Well, quickly here's the reason why. Saturday and Sunday I was just too lazy, not to mention that there was a White Collar marathon that's far more important for me than blogging. Yeah, imagine that. Choosing handsome men over blogging into the unknown.

Then came Monday, when I was quite busy, specially because at 18 h I had this meeting with the tutor of our thesis (it went smashing! ^_^), and in the afternoon I had this meeting. I wanted the meeting to be at our building (that could have allowed me to blog), but then the ***** people of another area made us go to their lair. Oh happy day. We were the ones summoning the meeting, so they should have respected our appointed location. But then again, not like there's much brightness in that lightbulb box. And so it happened there, at their lair, that I tripped and fell and fell good. Knees and elbows hurt and a wound on my knee like I haven't seen since my schoolgirl days. You know, the kind of wound that starts looking a bit yellowish, like a mashed banana, and that oozes pus like nobody's business. Yeah, that one. Yesterday I had to run to the Insurer because the Company Doc wouldn't do a thing with it - it's an Insurer's case and so it can't be meddled with. There my paperwork wasn't complete (like I put that I hurt my knees, and I had to put 'both knees' so that's clear. Yeah, from all my kness I gara point out which ones), so even I've got treated, I have to go back today with all the signatures on the freshly corrected documentation, plus a letter  - a formal letter to it - from The Employer stating the whole story of the accident.

And so this is why I haven't written these days. Now if you'll excuse me I've stuff to do.

International TGIF day?

Given the fact that Dad managed to get himself yet another sick-leave (and I'm positive it's some ruse he and some friendly doc are cooking up, because nobody gets so many days ever so often for a hurting wrist), my options to reach the office were either take a caravan of buses or ask a coworker to give me a ride. Since this particular coworker, Smurf, pointedly asked why have I stopped going with him, I decided to call him and ask him if he can give me a ride. Well, that and the fact that his girlfriend is simply adorable and the sweetest, most precious person I have met made me jump at the open offer and call them early. Andy, the adorable Smurfette, picked up the phone and said, God bless her tender soul, that sure thing.

So they gave me a ride. After greeting, Andy's first comment was "Finally Friday!" with such a festive, happy countenance as if it were some long awaited holiday. Then again, for a Friday that's not an unusual expression, but it struck me that gathered, overworked, quite Andy would make such an enthusiastic exclamation before me, after all we are not kin nor we are coworkers or best friends, just friendly acquintances. Perhaps what struck me was the source, not so much the content of the exclamation or the tone itself. Well, Patrick knows. Either way, surprising or not, it was  - well - a true statement.

Then, after fulfilling my due-diligence with a task left from yesterday (Oh dear Patrick, Carrie!!! It was so AWESOME!!! Gonna go over it again and again and again! Totally... wow!), I leaped up to the net, came here and what do I see but Dragonfly also celebrating the Friday. My coworkers also, in disorganized chorus, sighed this day with relieve and joy, planning even, signing up to a hearty lunch complete with a good, cool bottle of beer. On a week day? Never. On Friday? A must.

I myself, since I don't have any date with any of my friends - sad but true -  was thinking about tying my weekly NCIS with a nice, cold bottle of Smirnoff Ice. (I'm not much of an alone beer drinker, but I totally adore drinking Smirnoff while watching TV.) It is Friday after all and the world seems to be consumed in celebrating it, so why wouldn't I? (Specially when tomorrow I'll have this AWESOME 4-5 hour White Collar marathon?) So, in face of the facts presented, yes, I will celebrate this Friday, and hope everybody else is also up to do so.

Once again a week has gone by without me either mailing Calendulina's letter nor getting on with Sonja's letter. It has gone by without meeting with Shimmy Gin, whom I'm missing like Hell, not meeting with Carrie, and boy we need to meet! Then again, Carrie and I fixed this thing yesterday over a one hour phone conversation: we will meet on Monday in order to gap about how awesome this week's and last week's Supernatural episode was (hope this week's is good, 'coz ain't haven't seen it yet, but last week's was a freaking Oh-Dear-Patrick! with all the "Your demon lover, Brady" and "Did you kissed him?" and holding, grabbing, pulling, trumping over each other and awkward hand landing on hip-ass- upper (VERY UPPER) thigh. One word there, I don't know about Dean, but Jensen did lost all his male-touch-virtue (if such a thing exists) there), and then delve into the Sweet-Patrick-White Collar-is-heaven-and-Neal-is-awesome followed by the deep, intellectual, philosophical discussion over whether Neal Caffrey is or is not one of the Ukes of Destiny. My money is on "yes", and I'll do my best to prove my point. I mean, he is not a Mochizuki, that's granted - though if you look up to it closely.... - but he is quite Ryo Maclean quite often, or a Draco-in-Draco-Snape, as we concluded yesterday, and he can hardly go seme, specially when he bows to El, so yeah, he IS a total uke. But that is next week Monday. This week Friday is "pass da booze, brotha!"

Peace out.

P.D.: Thanks to Smurf for providing a picture of the Smurf-mobil.

Good

I have this awesome idea for a White Collar fic. Really good, or so I think. Well, in my head is quite good, truth to be told, and I would like to read and re-read that story, but, evidently, if I don't write it down, nobody will, right? What's about? Well.... nah, won't tell you yet, but it does involve frisking and the Miranda rights and cuffs. I dunno if it came from what I saw on NCIS: Los Angeles last night, or the thoughts that re-reading Wild Rock put in my head, but it is a nice, plausible plot. Or so I think. Oh well, if I decide to do it, I'll let you know, and if I upload it somewhere I'll send you the link.

3rd Day of the Week

Yesterday was a perfect, perfect, PURRRRRRFECT day for me. No, it wasn't an exceptionally good day at work, specially since Dumby-Doo, the new secretary of the Direction assigned me a meeting room for the afternoon, butit seems she lacks either the information, the system, the power or the mojo to do it and make it stick, and so the Noppy-Noo assistant, who does possess all the power of Grayskull, and so it's invested with the mojo, gave the same meeting room to someone else, and made it stick. Meaning? Not much, just that I had people coming from another frotting district for a meeting and I didn't even had a chair to sit them. No biggie, though, as I've got Ro to lend me her office, where a discarded round table and three already-depreciated chairs offered Zo, Leli and I a place to sit and talk business. In the end, though there's pressure from every corner of the Earth (as usual) to get the stuff going, I made my point poking all the soft points and having them checked again. In the middle of the meeting my attention was drawn then to yet another tender point and, needless to say, I poked it and bursted it open. Taking these matters in hand and making them get around was good, was great, was awesome, but it wasn't that thing that made my day purrrrfect. My day was made purrrrfect by White Collar. Dear, let me tell you that the more I watch this series, the more I love, I love, I love it! (Me going Mr. Darcy? Nah...)

Being the good and considerated friend I am, I hurried to send an SMS to Carrie so that she doesn't forget to watch it. To my utter surprise she told me she wasn't gonna, but she would wait to Saturday to watch the marathon on Fox.Well, I think that's a follower, a converse I lost to the cause. I mean, even though it was me who converted her into Supernatural, it was me who brought the Winchesters into her life (she did had a faint idea of them, but not as forceful as after my preaching), she now walks by the ULTIMATE DELICATESSEN of White Collar? What's wrong with her!? Specially when I detailed for her the events to happen in the last episode (I read the full recap of the episode here), and TOLD HER that there would be HELPLESS DRUGGED CONFESSIONS made. What self-respecting slasher would EVER let such a delectable, pairing-canonizing event go by unseen? Well, all I have to add to this is that Youka Nitta wouldn't be proud of it. Oh, and the episode? Delicious as ever. Matt Bomer looks yummy with glasses. I'm sure Carrie would just love that. The plot was somewhat worn off, reheated from so many references to corruption in the organ transplant lists, and, to my personal opinion, it could have been better prepared, deeeper reaching, a bit stronger on the social aspect of it, which was barely brushed over, then with unexplained, magical solutions handed at the end as if the Disney-Rule-For-Happy-Endings-Were-Law, which, honestly, took from the tone and the shine the episode could have had. I mean, sure, I watch White Collar for the guy, because if I wanted some meatier crime solving I would turn to Miss Marple, to any Procedural Cop Show, and if I wanted a guaranteed happy ending I would turn to the Disney Channel. Yet still, I may love that hot piece of human the producers dangle before our eyes, but eventually I would love to see more than sex appeal and heavy-slash-duty.

Now this. Heavy-slash-duty. This episode was quite peppered up with it. (I'm totally, totally buying the series! But should I buy it at once or wait for the Black Friday? Hn, hard question.) If I had to compare and pair up the guys with Manga equivalents... well, in this episode Neal was quite...Ranmaru (Kizuna) like, in the sense of being nice, soft, uke-ish and concerned about others' wellbeing. It oozed all over the uke-ish aura, and the soft, good guy, all-to-make-others-happy vibe of Ryo Maclean from Fake (a manga I almost know by heart), with the here and there outbursts of recklessness proper of Dee Laytner (Fake). He was to die for, and I don't usually die for ukes.

On the other hand, this time Peter was quite Dee Laytner, minus the "bend the law where it doesn't fit the plan" attitude, except here and there, the same way Ryo Maclean would. When it came to the undercover scheme, dear Pete was chosen as the decoy to lure the "guardian" or "gate keeper" lady, some hot assistent who basically decided who enters, who leaves (or something like that - to put it simple), given the fact that said lady wouldn't react to Neal's charm, but jumped at Peter like a drowning man to a lifesaver. Usually Neal handles the seduce'em and distract'em part of the job, so dear Petey wasn't comfortable on the part, giving a way a quite strong Yuuen (Wild Rock)-like vibe.(And he didn't even had to dress like a gal!) 

Silly situations follow, a few quite dummy sequences regarding the domestic life of the Burkes (to which Neal seems to have integrated as some sort of junior partner that, not being much younger than the senior partners, can be bossed arround by any of them, following a quite parent-child mechanic, where Pete can berate Neal, but then Neal turns to El with puppy eyes and a "but I can, can't I?" and El can reverse the berating of Pete) where more and more we get the idea that El is a hardcore slasher and more like the best friend of Pete living with him in quite a Will&Grace arrangement.

Other than the usual twists and turns, Neal resourcing to "skills from the Dark Side", or "Dark Arts" to solve crimes (like there's no chance in hell he could do so legally, nor with the aid of the FBI because somehow the FBI - in this case or even the X Files cases - is just so helpless and incompetent), and then the constant, already boring, pending menace that "either Caffrey solves this case and catches the guy or he is going to jail for good this time", (Dude, cut it off or we are going to get so annoyed, so fed up not even prancing him naked would do the trick for us anymore) which are already a commonplace - and not necessarily a funny one - this time the show kicked it up a notch with the slashing audience. If you ask me it was a deliberate teasing of the audience, just like now many shows have been doing it. Talk slash, insinuate slash, and you'll get a booming rating. 

Sorry, now-a-days the "Who's the Boss?" kind of perpetual man-woman sexual tension doesn't even sell cookies. People, the audience wants the next step, the next level and that's the slashy hinting. You can find it in Supernatural - a show I love, hitting now the 5th season, which wasn't looking pretty until they started embracing the slashiness of the situation, and now they are in the Stay-4-Sure list. NCIS: Los Angeles started hitting that tune and it's going somewhere. Castle... Castle didn't. Castle went Who's the Boss and... well, let's see how long it survives.

Anyway, pedaling back to White Collar, the purrrfection, the sweetness came, as predicted, with the druging thing. Sure, Pete runs to save Neal's hide, that's not a first, though it still feeds the rabid slashers, goes not-so-kosher in the rescuing, gets to the lad, by following his mellow, singing voice (I'm sure there must be a fairtale with a similar plot... or plain and simple refer to Ulyses and the Sirens) and finds him, oh dear, the almost canon situation in this fandom, sweetly, helplessly bound to a bed. Naturally, even druged, Neal can pick the locks, and as in any PWP (PWP: plot-what-plot. Refers to fics that have no plot but jump right away into the sex scene. Basically, porn.) fanfic, where the most abhorrently irrational, stupid situations which requiere a GAPING lack of common sense to happen... well, just like that, Neal does pick the locks, but remain in bed, waiting to be rescued. Dude, you can't go any more PWP than that! And as far as I know, decorum leaves this one privilegde for fanfickers writing PWP fics, like R to NC-17 rated, because that's the point, so why, oh why the screenplay writers did? Or was it actually a fanfic that got mixed with the real script and then it was too late to exchange it? Well, not that I really complain, I love PWP, but it did was... fan pleasing over the top. I do complain though, because that was so fanfic like and we didn't even got... you know... the "cookie".

Sweet Neal was as if written into a fanfic. Dear, smiley, ukeish. Pete, awkward here and there, did try to do the Knight in Shiny Armor part carrying the lovely drug pumped beauty in his arms, but again, awkward-trumped-slashy-hope. Still, stating his current uke-ness, Neal, trying to walk on his feet landed flat on the floor more times than imagined. Hand on mouth, close body contact, and then the drug hazed confession of trust, a trust that trampled that of the most important people in Neal's life (and honestly, this is where suddenly I was stabbed with suspition, thinking that it seemed prepared, and maybe Neal wasn't as out of himself as one would think, that was playing a part to tie Peter more to him, to get him to trust him more). Upon confession Peter went Dee Laytner, but not as in smooching the bejesus out of him, but in going back and STEALING the tape that would have prooved Neal broke into the hospital. Neal's response?

"You steal that for me?"

...

Okay, can ANYONE see this as anything but... evidently... slashy? Really, anyone. Any? Just one hand? Please? Yeah, I thought so.

After this, needless to say that I am a fan, I will own the series and all the seasons they do, and currently, I love this series so, so, so very much, I even place it over Supernatural.

Tuesday is my new favorite day of the week.

The Million Dollar Question - Literally

When you are a gray spot in the bigger gray picture, often whatever you have to say goes completely unnoticed to the world. You are gray spot in the bigger gray picture if you are not famous, and I mean Celebrity Deathmatch famous, not like today's Real World Stupid Alka-Seltzer celebrities. So, basically you and me are gray spots on the tapestry of the human universe, and there's nothing wrong with it. Like Max (played by the astonishing Vanessa Redgrave) said in Mission Impossible, "Anonimity... is like a warm blanket" (quote taken from Wikiquote), so why shall you be unhappy with it? Yeah, my point exactly.

Thing is that, as a gray spot, you still can see a lot of things in the world and do unthinkable stuff, such as "think" and "draw conclusions". You are not expected to do so, as you are basically cattle that produces statistics and generates votes for Presidential Elections. This is how I put my pretty little head to all kind of unproductive and completely meaningless tasks such as follow the national devisa market's pulse and try to find out what could be happening there. I formulated so my theories, which were either wooed by people "much better prepared for the task", and even contradicted entirely by shinier spots of our humble national tapestry.

In Costa Rica the topic of what the dollar (American dollar) does next is of HUGE importance, basically because there's no availability of other devisas nor any interest in them. The Euro, though has timidly entered the market, doesn't have an independent value, but a value always expressed in dollars. Naturally, this has given chance to some less-than-respectable banks to refuse to take dollars for Euros, and instead buy the dollars, then sell them and THEN sell the Euros. Tricky, huh? Oh, and this happened to me in a State Owned Bank, in case you wonder. Now, this narrowness doesn't only show in the devisa supply, but for instance also in the fact that the country rushed like hell and made a HUGE deal out of the Free Trade Agreement with the U.S. (though since then we have like 20 FTA's, and even one with China, which, naturally, will leave us poor and gaping, but then, that's the opinion of this gray spot), and up to recently the only language that was promoted as a foreing language was English. People ACTUALLY thought that outside Costa Rica people either spoke Spanish or English.

The position of the dollar in our market strenghtened year after year for over 20-25 years with a system of micro-devaluations, where each day the dollar was one cent of colon more expensive than the day before. This gap was widened through the years. This, naturally, helped the importing industry by buying at some price in dollars outside, pay that with a given amount of colones, and then selling it in the country for quite the same amount in dollars, transferred to colones, and get even more colones than originally paid (plus other costs and the margin of utility). For the exporter it was good in the sense that it could sell it's goods outside for less dollars and get back the colones input, therefore making the product cheaper outside.

So it happens that the heads of State decided that importing and exporting wasn't enough, and they decided to invite companies to invest in Costa Rica, set their factories and offices, hire Costa Ricans and spend money here. This went on a large scale ranging from original maquilas to call centers and service centers. The dollar was appreciating day by day, and so day by day the enterprises investing here had to pay less and less to their workers.

Then shit started to happen. Seeing that Panama was doing so freaking well with all those dollars circulating as their own money, and being that the dollar each day worthed more, a lot of much better prepared people started throwing to the table the idea of dollarizing the economy. They pushed the agenda, pushed the agenda, and even argumented that dollarizing was gonna expenses and headaches. Dude, really. To my absolute outrage, even economists started pushing the agenda. I guess they all fell asleep when they were taught about the fact that minting is a tool the National Bank or Central Bank of Federal Reserve has to get the State out of the shit it gets into sometimes (or most of the times, depends on the given Government). To put it easy for the un-economist masses, it's like when you spend a fucking lot of money on some stuff and then you have to pay a lot of other stuff, or like when you buy on credit or take a lot of loans and then you have to pay them back. You gara get the money out of somewhere, so either you find a new source (like a second job) or you make money. For countries that's legal and it's called MINTING, for people is illegal and it's called COUNTERFEITING. Now, of course, for countries it is legal when they print their own money.

Our Central Bank here, decided then, one good day, to let the dollar loose to dance and wander away... within defined bands. What happened? The dollar stuck to the floor.Why on Earth? Well, it was already too inflated. I mean, allegedly Costa Rica is one of the strongest economies in the region, but is one of the weekest devisa, and the weekest in all Central America. With all sorts of tricks and traps the dollar was ripped off the floor and securely nailed to the ceiling for a while. The devisa started wobbling, making many foreign companies start paying their workers in dollars to minimize the cost impact. In other words, transferred it to the working class.

The claiming for the dollarized economy reached the heavens. After decades of stability, people rushed to the banks to put their dollars in good ol' colones, which seemed like the only safe place.The claiming of the dollarizers was that the colon was such a piece of crap currency that we were better off with the American dollar, which was such a sturdy, valuable, world wide accepted currency. Proof of it, they said, were the bucking and kicking the colon was doing when left free.

Me, being as suspitious and prone to think the works of the Government as I am, immediately thought that this was a maneuveing. "No, no!" claimed the media and the much better prepared people "this is the normal behavior of the colon. This is what the BCCR has been saving us from for years now." Well, like I would buy that. This went on, with a devisa value often nailed to the ceiling. Then, the bucking started to happen, and happen wilder and wilder as the term of the past Administration was coming to an end. Neck breaking jumps of over 20% of the value were seen happen within hours. The market? Why? We have here some Wall Street we don't know about? And I said, and told Kari, "Someone is playing the currencies to exert profit". But "Oh no! That's the normal market movements! You don't know that because you don't read indexed magazines nor are you much better prepared". Yeah, yeah, yeah... I like my fiction with ghosts, vampires and Winchesters, thank you very much. I mean, I don't know how much better prepared am I supposed to be to suspect something is seriously fucked up when the dollar falls all over the world and here it strenghtens day by day, or that slides down when all over the world climbs up. Could it be that Costa Rica is the Dollar Spa? Or the Currency Twilight Zone? Or am I right and someone is playing with the currency to it's own benefit?

Then, in these days, all sorts of articles started popping up. One said that this past Administration, which according to former president Arias "left Costa Rica so much better than at the begining", left a humongus debt, with Public Debt reaching the 44% of the GDP. Well, you ain't gara tell me, homie! Last year the 13th month salary was paid with debt. First time in history. The Scholar Salary, which is paid from the savings people do through the whole year, was put in danger of not paying because "there was no money". Dude, we were FORCED to save it up! It's our money, so fucking give it back!

Be it as it is, the country is up to its eyeballs in debt, the currency is drifting away, infrastructure is falling apart and one of the quickest way to tackle this is by printing money. So, dollarize? Yeah, right away. I mean, something dollarizers should get through their thick skull is that when you adopt another country's currency, you give up power upon it. You can be drowning in debt (kind of like Greece) and you CAN'T save yourself by printing more money. No can do. You can do well, be strong in the international market, but if the currency you use starts to fall, so do you. And can you do something? Yeah, pray. So, if you think the colon is out of control, try getting dollarized.

Now, pulling the ends together, dollarizers and currency players, yesterday I found this article:

What's Going On With the U.S. Dollar in Costa Rica?

It is short, and I would like to quote the ending phrases of it to make my point.

Our experience shows us that this type of trade based volatility in small economies usually imply large profits for a few and losses for many. Those who win are usually the ones who enjoy some form of privileged information.

Who made profits when the dollar was falling in Costa Rica? Who are making them now with its steep recovery?

 

Who are the owners of these large capital flows that are shaking market? Where do they come from?

Does anybody have the answer?

So, in the light of that, seeing that my less better prepared, gray spot conclusions seem to find an echo out there, why would some push for the dollarizing now harder than ever? Evidently, to cover this business up.

A Freshly Baked New Week

Monday Morning. I started AGAIN the 15-Minute-German little program, with all the intention of taking it to the end (instead of drifting away hardly three weeks away from completition (three out of twelve)). Now that I know how the system works, and how much does it have, I know also what kind of stuff I have to investigate in alternative sources. I'm back at the "Guten Tag, Ich heiße Martina Li, freut mich"-thingie, but I don't mind it at all. Repetition is the key to success in language learning (though over repeating is the key to language forgeting, which is why I always suffer with my French conjugations - particularly with the verb faire - ). The morning was cold, clouded, stormy, and so I was happy. Perhaps "happy" is too soft a word to express my feelings. I was exhilarated. Stormy mornings are my favorite kind of morning. The chill, the cold, the promise of a diluvian rain sparkled with loud thunders made me dreamy, hopefull and inspired, and so, starting a learning regime, such as this German program (again) was puuuuurfect!

I also fed the masses - or the proletarian people, if you wish to see it that way - with bread and sour cream. Nah, not some metaphoric bread, such as the bread of hope, the bread of education, the bread of information, but actual, freshly baked flour bread, from the local grocery store.I asked around if anyone knew who was supposed to bring bread today, but nobody seemed to know, so since I had to go to the store to fill the tank, I decided to cooperate with the cause and bring them a baguette and some sour cream. Probably the one with the bread task sorted for today would bring one or two bars of bread and I really didn't want to leave too much leftovers. I mean, bread from various days accumulate in Cyn's old office getting old and ugly in several paper and plastic bags, wrinkling up, hardening and becoming sort of gummy, like the limbs of old people.

Well, no bread was left over today, for nobody actually brought any bread, and so my humble, only loaf of bread was the one that abolished hunger in the office. Go figure. Tomorrow the Ants plan a breakfast-sale, for which I offered a bottle of Salsa Lizano. I guess that, in solidarity, we shall not gather to partake in our communal everybody-brings-something breakfasts, but buy from them what we ourselves have offered. Wonder if it will work.

Among the things that fill me this new week is the novel "Emma", by Jane Austen. As I wrote (somewhere), yesterday I saw (again) this movie "The Jane Austen Book Club", where plays one of my currently favorite actresses, Emily Blunt, and I was taken away  - again - by the wish to read Jane Austen's books. Well, as far as I know, we don't have Jane Austen's books at home, though I could have asked my mother, since I believe she's the only one who actually might have an idea about what volumes to we keep in our so called library. (We had Kurt Vonnegut, to my surprise, and also the book about Genghis Khan... all of them in Hungarian, of course.) Anyway, I was browsing the Amazon, when I came across this comment of a man who gave a 1 star grade to a compiling book I was cheking out, and so I found out that the novels could be read FOR FREE online. Go figure that. So I sought and found and saved the link. Read the first chapter yesterday, from Emma, the first novel in the list (and the first read in the movie) and found it strange. Yeah, strange. Getting used to the type of English used in the book, such as calling a woman "handsome" (my devious slashy eye made me wonder if Emma Woodhouse wasn't actually some Emmerson Woodhouse), or the reversing of numbers, saying ages such as four and thirty instead of thirty four; but the strange way in which the whole thing is dumped on you, with a basically selfish Emma, who feels herself superior to everybody else, surrounded by repression, passive-agressive blows and who herself deals out a great deal of them, well, that's not at all expected. There's so much crammed into that first chapter and it is so strange to read, you feel like you need a readjusting at some point. Oh well, I've clicked on the next chapter so I'll continue my discovery of Emma, and hope this book will be NOTHING like Dorian Gray.

Workwise, my alotted work has been slashed in two for today. Ro will tackle one batch and I'll tackle the other. And here I expected both to be dumped on me today. Oh well, we shall see, we shall see. This is, after all, just the first day of the rest of the week.