America, the beautiful

This is not going to be a "normal" post, if a "normal post" has ever existed.

A friend of mine has passed me a beautiful poem. (Taken from here)

Also, I am posting (for first time thanks to the help of SSG), a video. Also from the States.

I am not going to comment anything else, you take your say.

America for Me
Henry Van Dyke

'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down
Among the famous palaces and cities of renown
To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings,
But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.
So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be
In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars

Oh London is a man's town, there's power in the air
And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair;
And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome;
But when it comes to living there is no place like home.

I like the German fir-woods, in green battalions drilled
I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled;
But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day
In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way!

I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack:
The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back.
But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,
We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.
Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!
I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea,
To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars,
Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.

And now the video:



The cast of Brokeback Mountain at Oprah's program (doesn't she look wonderful?).

On Why English Speakers Are the Best (Part II)

What brought me yesterday to start a post On Why English Speakers Are the Best, is the frustrating fact that I am going to relate just now, finally.

Before living in the UK, I never Google-d anything in English. If I could do so in Spanish, why bothering? If it was coming up in English, fine, I'd try to understand or use the AltaVista translator facility.

Since I moved there, I gradually started using English in my researches and reading in the language, etc. Soon I shifted to only using English as I was finding things much quicker and more reliable, not to talk about the amount of information found in each language.

But the facts that get on my nerves are two:

The first one is that sometimes I am looking for an especially localized information and, guess what?, I can't find it in Spanish; I try to do so in English and voilà.

The second is just a matter of spelling and care. Sometimes, I am looking for Non-English, Non-Spanish information (especially Polish) and I find amusing how, the same, e.g., town's name, with the same spacial character or mark such accent, tilde or háček, are differently spelt in the pages of the two languages. And guess what? The pages where are most often well spelt are the English ones. The most amusing thing happened the other day when they were talking about the disaster in Katowice and they were talking of close by city, which I can't remember the name and which had an accent on a O such as " ó " which is a totally normal character in Spanish, and they didn't even care of writing it. So, they can write "mojón" but not Kraków (it wasn't this one but it will do).

That's why I really like the Wikipedia as when I spot one of these mistakes I can amend it.

My American friend says that this is just a matter of mathematics: the more English Speakers use the net, the more they can be caring about that. And surely, English Speaking Countries are the top of the list of users of the WWW. Also, Polish people use a lot the net as very often when I look for whatever, I find a few pages in the languages (which, unfortunately, I can't understand enough). And, since there are many Polish in the US, many of them could be the responsible of this perfectionism/amendment.

Though, I still feel that this is not the truth.

When I was living in the UK (and watching telly –which was just about the last year), I didn't see many news on Poland, that I remember. But, since I am here, two or three times I have spotted mistakes on the pronunciation of some information on the news. For example, when our dear Pope Karol Józef Wojtyła, John Paul II, passed away, they neither pronounced his name properly, nor wrote the stroke. They didn't do so either when talking about Częstochowa or any of the Polish words or names during that period or any of the other moments when Poland was on the news. Another thing, for example, Microsoft Word autocorrects "facade" for "façade"!

I guess, America's diversity policy has something to do with it.

I know not many people care about this perfectionism. I like the special characters that are used in other languages. Especially, my favourite, " ė " which I first saw it in the Lithuanian language. I don't know why it is my favourite, but it is.

There are many, many other reasons on why English speakers are the best, but this is the one I give today.

On Why English Speakers Are the Best (Part I)

I remember when I started reading my first book on languages (I am interested, you see...). It was "Mother Tongue" by Bill Bryson.

To be fair, I didn't like it.

It was actually the first non-fiction/novel book I was reading and I was, at first, very scared of not being able to read (understand) it. An Australian friend had lent it to me.

First page: I had trouble with some words as they were supposed to mean two things and, either I know only one of the meanings or it was just not making sense to me (they were not supposed to make any sense, actually, as they were wrongly written sentences). I kept reading. My friend told me, after a few days, 'Oh, don't worry, I was all the time with dictionary on hands, when I was reading it!.' I didn't say anything but couldn't understand why. Then I realised that, for sure, all the words she had to check were the words related to grammar and language: mostly all of them come from Latin and are used in Spanish and/or Catalan.

To make the story short: I couldn't finish the book. Not because I didn't understand it (not much trouble, actually) but because it was getting on my nerves. He was trying to make a "good" book on languages and he didn't manage. He made many mistakes on, especially, Romance and Slavic languages (the ones I am most in touch with; perhaps he did with others but I couldn't know).

But the day I said 'That's it, I can't go NO more" was the day I read something like "English is the most important language in the world".

Mr. Bryson, do you know what "important" means at all?

Definitely, English is a very important language FOR ME but, surely, not the most important language FOR ME. I don't even know whether it is Spanish or Catalan.

Surely, what Mr. Bryson wanted to say is that English is the most useful language nowadays. Or, at least, this is what is closer to the apparent truth.

You cannot say, watching a painting by Pollock (e.g.), "this is ugly" because what something IS or ISN'T is a matter of subjectivity. You could say that YOU THINK the painting isn't nice or that YOU don't like it. And, this, would definitely avoid misunderstandings and remark the actual subjectivity on the fact that you dislike it.

And this all comes on the fact that lately I have been speaking to my American friend on why English speakers are the best. She is an English speaker and she dislikes the fact that English IS the language we all use when we go on a trip, say India, say Germany or any other country [Let's learn Esperanto, darling!]. When, for instance, I went to France and Italy (two different trips), I knew that with the few words I knew of both official languages and the fact that I speak two very related languages, I was going to make myself understood. But I couldn't. It was so easy for me to start speaking this language I am writing in right now that I couldn't go further than merci or buona notte. When I went to Canada and I really had trouble finding people who spoke English (in Quebec, obviously), I really had to take courage and try to get whatever we wanted in French.
I have been in a few countries in Europe and, over all, I can say that everybody speaks English and that the further you go in the North and East, the better they speak it (remember, this is only my opinion). In ten days in Poland I only found one single person who wasn't able to speak to me in English –though, for me it was just fine if she was speaking in v e r y s l o w Polish as I am (was) a student of the language.

I live now in "sunny" Spain (please, note the inverted commas) and I find it terribly annoying that people do not speak English. (I am talking generally.) I can't believe that, working in a company that has offices all over the country and that deals with many people, it was me who had to deal with an English customer as no-one spoke good enough to do so. The worse of it is that it wasn't my job and I am not getting paid for it.

I have a theory. From all the people I have known and spoke to, I have realised that the ones that seem to have more trouble of learning this language and avoiding a hard accent (like mine) are those who come from countries where Spainish, Italian or French (and perhaps Portugese). It seems that, since our languages were the MUST's during some periods of the past, we are still thinking that they still are the BEST.
How wrong.

Though, also the horrible-second-language-educational-system in Spain could have something to do with it. The fact that I pronounce(d) h- starting words as "hello" with a deep H, similar to the sound of J in Spanish when H does not have any sound whatsoever in my original language, has to be a mistake I have learnt from somebody. And don't come to me with, 'Oh, your dad is from Andalucía and he does pronounce a deep H', because I will tell you 'Yes, but I don't, and not all the Spaniards who I have met who pronounce the H that way are sons of Andalucians.'

Anyway, this is already taking so long and I didn't say what I wanted to say on Why English Speakers Are the Best. So, I'll place (Part I) after the title and continue tomorrow.

For those who can't understand what the paper on the photo says: "Speaking English Favors Dyslexia".

In my mind: "Como los Olivos" by Bebe.

Katowice

Desde aquí quiero enviar mis condolencias a todos aquellos que están sufriendo la catástrofe de Katowice.

Katowice

From here I want to send my condolences to all those whom are suffering the catastrophe of Katowice.

¿Qué edad tienes?

Ayer estuve mirando uno de esos foto blogs que corren por ahí, tipo Flikr y me sorprendí preguntándole el título de este post a una de las fotos.
La razón era que había un tipo vestido como si tuviera veinte años pero sus facciones y su pelo confesaban una edad de por lo menos el doble. Me doy cuenta que yo no soy el gran gurú de la moda, ni siquiera la sigo. Me doy cuenta que con una camiseta y unos tejanos tengo suficiente. ¿Seré yo de aquí a veinte años uno de esos, un tipo que vista como visto hoy para intentar mantenerme joven?
Esta mañana, de camino al trabajo, he visto a un tipo que conozco de toda la vida. No sé si ha salido del armario ya pero su coronilla cada día se hace mayor. Tejanos acampanados, bolso pequeñito y otros complementos que denotaban un intento de pertenecer a una generación a la que ni yo, que la tengo muy cercana, pertenezco. Realmente no sé si es gay o no, el tipo de la foto de ayer definitivamente lo era.
He llegado a mi oficina y al cabo de un rato ha llegado un cliente con el que había quedado para hacer visitas. Era la primera vez que nos veíamos y me ha sorprendido la misma exacta cualidad: "tengo muchos años pero me creo que con unos tejanos horteras y un par de prendas compradas en Zara no hace falta que me haga un líftin ni que le pida a los reyes magos que me quiten unos cuantos años". Éste, por lo menos, aparentaba más joven pero más tarde ha hecho un comentario del estilo de "hace quince años" y, por mis cálculo, tiene que tener, por lo menos, unos cuarenta. Éste también, es gay.
No lo entiendo. ¿O es que es una cosa sólo de los gay? ¿Los metrosexuales también son así? No conozco ninguno...
Me pasé toda mi infancia oyendo una y otra vez aquello de "pero si tú aún no habías nacido... ya lo entenderás cuando seas mayor... eres demasiado pequeño... enano...". Crecí y con ganas. Ahora estoy en uno de esos momentos en los que me encanta mi año de nacimiento. Alanis canta "do you realize guys I was born in 1974?" en la canción "UR" de "Supossed Former Infatuation Junkie". Yo nací sólo siete años más tarde pero, guey, súper orgulloso.
De hecho pienso que es una época perfecta, la fecha idónea: la democracia ya ha empezado, González, Naranjito al año siguiente, viví Barcelona '92 y la Expo de Sevilla el mismo año, el final de la movida, la ruta del bacalao (a la que nunca acudí pero cuya música me llegó, inevitablemente), las Spice Girls (LOL), ¡Alanis, Björk!, Almodóvar, las generaciones pierden las letras y, al final, un gobierno zapaterista intenta mejorar un poco la situación. Lo único que me falta es que ganemos el festival de Eurovisión (adulto) una vez más.
En definitiva, par mí, es el mejor año. Sin embargo, acepto la existencia de "otros mejores años".
Nunca he pertenecido a ninguna tribu urbana y mis amigos siempre han sido mayores que yo. Quizás por eso el hecho de mi edad me ha marcado mucho. Antes me sentaba mal, ahora una de mis frases favoritas es "¡que nací en el '81!".
Sí, me he perdido cosas, pero por suerte he tenido la posibilidad y la curiosidad de saberlas.
La edad... qué cosa.
Es como aquel pueblo en "La historia interminable" que nacían de viejos y morían de bebés.
No me avergüenzo de mi edad, y espero nunca hacerlo. Sí, claro, ahora soy "joven" pero ¿qué es la juventud, anyway? No es nada más que un estado de ánimo. Pero el estado de ánimo es una cosa interna, escondida. No se necesitan tejanos con rotos y cosidos para demostrar que, por dentro, "aún" eres "joven".

Anticipation

Gatchan has just passed me a musical meme.

I am suposed to sing this song but, hey, I have been singing this for a couple of days already.

I have the joy of giving the baton to my dearest SuperSonicGirl.

Here is my song:

Big Time Sensuality

Björk – Debut

I can sense it,
something important
is about to happen;
it's coming up.

It takes courage to enjoy it,
the hardcore and the gentle,
big time sensuality.

We just met
and I know I'm a bit too intimate
but something huge is coming up
and we're both included.

It takes courage to enjoy it,
the hardcore and the gentle,
big time sensuality.

I don't know my future
after this weekend
and I don't want to.

It takes courage to enjoy it,
the hardcore and the gentle,
big time sensuality.

Let's celebrate...

The other day in my blog in Spanish I was talking about queueing.

I think it is not only the fact that we enjoy queueing but also that we like waiting, looking forward to something.

I dislike the you-must-like-the-feasts thing. Really, I do. Some people are the ones who decide what should I celebrate and what I shouldn't.

The Christmas street decorations aren't out just yet and the shops are already displaying Carnival disguises and Valentine's Day's hearts. Soon will be Father's day (In Spain on March 19), Easter, Rocío's day and so on.

Day by day, we are always waiting for the next feast.

What is this, a way to go through the life without time to think "Oh, how unfortunate I am" and not having to relate this to religion? Or just one way for them to go through our wallet?

For spending and carnival (Halloween), please, watch the film "In America".

So, in order to avoid recognising this day as an expectation of Valentine's day, I am declaring today the international day of the celebration of the birthday of Alonso Pérez de Guzmán, "El Bueno", founder of the Duchy of Medina-Sidonia.

Listening to: "Possibly Maybe" by Björk, album: "Post"

It's in our history

It is way too difficult sometimes to let yourself be the one you are and not the one you have been taught to be.

Let me explain.

I have done some research on women and waxing. I have asked them if they like to wax their legs: they all say they don't. I have asked them if they like their legs waxed: they all say yes. I have asked why: they all say because it is nicer.

I don't buy it.

We are taught to like waxed legs as we are taught to like blonds and blue eyes and all those things. We are taught to like cities and presents and all those things. And we don't even realise and pass that onto our children.

I have two friends who have never been religious. They have just had a baby and they christened it. Why would you do that if you don't believe in God? Tradition? Perhaps but most probably because this is the common thing to do.

We are not ONE person, we are a society.

Listening to: "Big Time Sensuality" by Björk

and singing it!

Thank you!

A few days ago I got a present from a very good friend in Australia. It is a t-shirt and it is the funniest one I have ever seen.

Here you have it:

Front

Back

Thank you very much, GG.

Singing in my mind: "My Melody of Love" by Bobby Vinton, the Polish Prince

¿Quién da la vez?

A veces me da la sensación que nos gusta hacer cola. ¿Os habéis dado cuenta? ¡Siempre estamos haciendo cola! Para todo.Y no sé si es éste país en el que vivimos o qué, pero me doy cuenta que aquí espero y "coleo" mucho más que cuando vivía en Inglaterra.

Ayer fui a Tarragona a hacer papeleo. Adivina: volví a casa con las manos vacías.

Sé que tener documento de identificación en regla es obligatorio, pero es que no me dejan. No lo entiendo. Si van a dar números para otro día, ¿por qué no me lo dan por teléfono? Según cuentan fuentes fidedignas, la oficina de tramitación del DNI en Tarragona no es una maravilla (eso ya lo sabía, pero es en comparación a otras como las de Barcelona o Eivissa).

Pero no es sólo eso. Intento recoger el certificado de Bachillerato (que ya me lo habrá firmado su majestad el rey [de España]) y resulta que la oficina no está abierta hasta las 11. ¿Qué tipo de oficina abre a las 11? ¿Y los chavales que tienen que tramitar algo antes de empezar las clases? ¿Y las típicas escenas de a qué clase voy de las películas americanas?

Mi camino sigue en la Seguridad Social, a hacer un papelito que no me sirve de nada hasta que me jubile. Pues vaya, abren a las 10 y sólo faltan 15 minutos. Me esperaré. Pero luego entro y soy el número tres pero, adivina otra vez, me toca sentarme en una silla durante algo más de cinco minutos mientras los ocho trabajadores dejan de charlar y se sientan para atendernos. No puedo tramitar el dichoso documento así que estoy una media hora charlando con el funcionario y arreglando el país.

Pues nada, a lo Carry Bradshaw me voy de compras ya que no tengo Midnight Cookies de Häagen Dazs a mano.

Y, es que te lo pongo a huevo, vuelve a adivinar: me voy al centro comercial más cercano y está cerrado hasta las 10.

Así pues, un sinfín de esperar, cola tras cola. Ahora entiendo que lo de la esperanza es lo último que se pierde.

Todo el mundo me dice que esto es igual en todas partes; yo sólo he tenido la experiencia en el Reino Unido y, la verdad, nunca ha sido tan exagerado. Quizá, la próxima vez, debería hacer las cosas de una en una y no todo a la vez.

Cantando hoy: "Love & Marriage" de Frank Sinatra.

Imagen sacada originalmente de aquí.

[Update a 4/09/06] Doy fe, la oficina del DNI en Eivissa funciona mucho mejor.

We shall become religious!

Lately I've been saying and thinking a lot in Mother Nature. In the fact that She is the one who really leads our lives –I guess we could say that She is also called God. She could do whatever she wanted with us.

She is THE perfect designer –She did our body– but sometimes the things She did are a bit weird, like using one part of our body for two things. Why? Couldn't she paste a bit more of flesh? Perhaps she couldn't!

We grow up and it seems that we are the ones who chose our friends. This is a fallacy: we chose them because there is some connection with them. It is not like we say: Oh, hello, do you want to be my friend?

OK, friends are important but we don't get to chose them, but we can influence that in some way; also, they are not to be with us for the rest of our lives. But the people who is going to be there forever, no matter what, are the ones whose uncertain choosing system we are not to reach ever. The ones who are really going to influence how we are –sometimes this is luck, sometimes is pity– are just the ones who we cannot chose.

"Isn't it ironic?" would say Alanis ironically.

Yes, it certainly is.

Some people believe that before you are born you chose the life you are going to live, the family, the kind of person, etc. Some other people thinks that the bad things that happen to us are because we did something wrong in our past life. And others say that we are here to learn and we are going to live one life after another until we reach the maximum standard.

Oh, damn, shit! Then, I was so stupid, I was very naugthy or I will have a few thousand lives after this one!

Life could be so fucking easy and we keep making it so complicated.

Photo: Alanis Morissette as God in "Dogma"

In my mind, today: "Moje Miasto" – Maria Peszek – "Miastomania"

¿Portadoras de paz?

Ayer tuve que rellenar un cuestionario y una de las preguntas decía algo así como qué haría si me caigo con una piel de plátano. Una de las respuestas posibles era decir que deberían multar o algo así a quién la hubiera tirado. No elegí ésta respuesta.

Desde aquí hago un llamamiento a los señores que mandan en éste país para que implanten una ley para multar, esta vez no a los que tiran porquería al suelo, sino a los que den de comer a las palomas.

Mi integridad física se ha visto amenazada ésta misma mañana cuando estaba tan tranquilo sentado en un banco de una plaza (a la que precisamente a pesar de tener un nombre y que de siempre se la denomina respecto a un edificio colindante, precisamente, se la ha empezado a llamar últimamente como "la plaza de las palomas"). Me parece perfecto que la gente saque a pasear a sus hijos en las mañanas de sol, también me parece fabuloso que a los niños mismos les gusten las palomas, y que se muevan y vuelen y esas cosas. Pero me parece desagradable que, encima, les echen migas de pan que pueden guardar para hacer carne empanada. Pero lo peor de lo peor no es que le den de comer a esas ratas voladoras, sino que encima no tengan consideración y lo hagan cerca de la gente que tan tranquila disfruta de la luz del sol y de una mandarina.

Encuentro maravilloso que a la gente le apetezca que sus hijos sean infectados con las enfermedades que esas ratas apestosas con alas van llevando de un lado a otro pero, cuando yo quiera estar unos meses en el hospital a punto de morir, ya me las apañaré. De momento no, gracias.

Y encima, yo que no me callo, le digo a la madre –no muy amablemente, todo sea dicho– que hagan el favor de irse más para "allá" y ni caso, tú.

OK, las palomas son animales y tienen derecho a la vida. Si es que yo nada en contra de las palomas –de las que viven en la mitad del campo y están tan sanas como cualquier gato de vecino. ¡Pero sí con esos bichejos de ciudad! Ahora, encima, dejamos de tirar arroz en las bodas, una tradición de toda la vida –absurda y hortera, por otro lado– sólo porqué a las pobrecitas se les hincha el arroz en el estómago y mueren. Pues poco me importa. Si a caso dejo de tirar arroz por el pobre barrendero que la tiene que recoger, que es persona y, como buen funcionario, debe ir a sus revisiones médicas cuando le toca.

Así pues, muy señores míos, ministros y presidentes, alcaldes y jueces, hagan el favor de dictaminar y encarcelar a todos aquellos que le tiren una sola miga de pan a las palomas dichosa. ¿Que con qué cargos? ¡Propagación infecciosa voluntaria! (¿Existe algo así?)

En mis oídos: "I Miss You (Dobie Rub Part One - Sunshine Mix)" : Björk : Telegram

¿En cuantos idiomas sabes decir hola?

Yo no lo recuerdo bien pero se ve que cuando era pequeño el cuento que más me gustaba era el poema de Lorca que inspira el nombre a éste blog. Yo siempre pensé que mi favorito era el de Hans, el escudero. Pero la verdad, tras la re-lectura, me doy cuenta que el caracol va más conmigo. Con su casa a cuestas y siempre huyendo. Hans, a pesar de todo, es un luchador, e incluso desde la muerte aparente, vuelve a vivir a través de la música para poder vengarse.

Es un cuento poco conocido, poca información encontré en la red hace ya un tiempo. Lo tengo, por fin, en papel y en audio, como cuando era pequeño. Qué recuerdos.

El poema del caracol tampoco es el más conocido. Pero es que la gente se queda con el "verde que te quiero verde" y ya no saben más. Memorizar no es lo mío y los únicos poemas que me sé de memoria son "Una cena", de Baltasar del Alcázar y "XLV / La pell del brau" (La piel del toro) de Salvador Espriu. El primero por sus dos últimas estrofas ya que mi abuelo las recitaba prácticamente todas las noches: "Ya que, Inés, hemos cenado, tan bien y con tanto gusto, paréceme que será justo, volver al tiempo pasado. Pues sabrás, Inés, hermana, el portugués cayó enfermo... Las once dan, yo me duermo, quédese para mañana". Y el segundo porqué me lo obligaron a aprender en el colegio y, la verdad, ha marcado mucho lo que es mi persona hoy día.

Bueno, como decimos los catalanes, és tard i vol ploure. Es tarde i quiere llover.

Os doy la bienvenida a éste blog que nace en la conmemoración del 50 post, por no haber nacido el primero del mes por falta de título.

The Hardest Thing to Do

A while ago a friend explained me how, with some other friends, they had decided to create a Top 10 CD.

I thought it was going to be easy, but I was wrong. Choosing the songs has been very difficult but it has helped me to realize how music is and who I am.

Also, I did the songbook with the 'why' of each song and the translation of the songs that are not in English.

I like the songbook (I don't have many tools but it looks OK); I spent a few hours doing it and I enjoyed, it has enhanced my creativity. You can download it here.

This are the ten songs that defined me in December 2005. The order is just for the hearing pleasure, no 1>10 apply.

[Artist – Song – Album]

1. Ania Dąbrowska – Zima ’81 – Samotność po zmierzchu

2. NajwaJean – I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) – No Blood

3. Björk – Jóga – Jóga (The Remixes)

4. Mecano – Hijo de la Luna – Entre el cielo y el suelo

5. Damien Rice – Volcano – O

6. Justyna Steczkowska – Wędrowni sztukmistrzowie – AlkimJa

7. Alanis Morissette – Head Over Feet – Jagged Little Pill Acoustic

8. Madonna – Like a Prayer – Like a Prayer

9. The Smiths – Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now – Hatful Of Hollow

10. El Barrio – El Primavera – Me voy al mundo

And, as the good CD, I added bonus tracks; not because I couldn't fit them in the Top 10, but because are one original and two versions in French and Italian.

11. The Proclaimers – I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) – Sunshine on Leith

12. Mecano – Figlio della Luna – Figlio della Luna

13. Mecano – Dis-Moi Lune D'argent – Aidalai France

So this was the only Christmas Present I did for my very few and very special friends.

Just because, good is life!

PS: This is my post number 50. Time goes by so fast!

Colours

It has been raining this weekend.
A long lasting, thin, gray, annoying rain.
I couldn't go running and I felt disturbed.

Today I went again. The beach and I alone, again. Me, the sea, the air, the sound, the smell.
It feels great, so great... It feels like flying.


For once in my life, gray has become a good colour. The gray sky, the gray stone I walk on, the gray smell of the gray air around me.

This is the evolution of the colour.

Foto taken in Altafulla, January 2004

You know what...

I deleted that post...
(But I kept the space so is would be the next one still #50).

Finally Christmas is over!

The Three Wise Men (Three Kings of Orient) haven't brought me anything. Nor has Father Christmas (Papa Noël). Not even Saint Nicholas at the beginning of December did. Only the Good Life brought me eight happy days of relaxing and walking and a book about my former life; and some former shoes gave me another book on theory of myself.
Thank God Friendship Exists!

It is raining --Rain in Seville is Wonderful but Rain in my-Town is annoying. Besides, I am at work, bored.

Not smoking is going OK. I have smoked only 4 in the entire week which means that from the 43 cigarettes that I would have smoked since Monday morning till now, I didn't smoke 39. So pretty good, right? I know 4 are still bad but better than before.

Exercise is going OK, as well. On Tuesday my sister and I started going together. We decided to start slower and then go increasing effort, so we go fast-walking, just before starting jogging. It is wonderful, actually. We do about 45 minutes during siesta break, before lunch. Also we go cycling sometimes. The other day we went around my town, so great, so different of what I am used to, between the vineyards and the olive trees; and yesterday we went around Altafulla, the neighbouring town and we arrived to the border with Tarragona. We went around the mouth of the river Gaià (dried out, actually). Amazing landscapes. Lots of cane. Wild trees and bushes. Wild flora. So wonderful. And then, suddenly, after a curve, the sea.
We were for one hour and a half (since yesterday was bank holiday we spent more time) and when we were already going home I got a hole in one of my wheels. Too bad! So we had to go back to my town walking for another half an hour.

Discovering that exercising is so great (this for me is a very strong exercise, you may understand) and that it feels so great has been the most wonderful present that the kings and the fat Scandinavian could have given me. Thank you, anyway, Life's so fucking good.

New Year's Resolutions

Oh, well... I'm back. I would be lying if I said that I was very busy. I was on holidays. But my friend was here and we were all the time talking, i.e. she heard all my thoughts along this days.

So nice to be on holidays, right? Waking up when I needed to. Laying around. Movies. Walking. Food. Oh, so much food. And so good.

The day we were celebrating the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ, we gathered at my house my brother, one of my sisters, her husband, my cousin and some friends. It was so much fun. We (actually the idea was of my sister and her husband)... We did a game. Everyone got a paper by drawing lots. In the papers was written two roles we had to do. So, for example, I had to sand up and start singing a Christmas Carol every time the word "Christmas" was said (which, mostly in Spanish, I did it also when in English), and I had to open all the bottles of wine and not let anyone open them. So I gathered them all by my side! Other roles were:

• dancing every time someone sung and after a while open the curtains,
• draw the curtains every time someone opened them,
• every time someone wanted to go to the loo, accompany him/her there and open the door for him/her,
• say "This party is so boring -- I am bored" from time to time,
• say "When are we going to go out to get something to drink?" from time to time...

and some more...

So it was really funny. Especially seeing a friend laughing a lot while saying "I am so bored!".

It has been great this Christmas, I have not really lived it as a Christmas, just like some holidays.

But now it is 2006 and I have made my New Year's Resolutions:

• Starting for the fact that I am quitting smoking: today I didn't smoke at all, yet --the 1st of January belongs to the previous year.
• Also I am going to do some exercise --I am rotten. I went yesterday for some jogging and I have so much pain now. Though, it feels great.

And I guess there is nothing else. I did many New Year's Resolutions for free during 2005 and now I don't need to do many more for a while.

So, I hope you had a wonderful Kalends.

Cartoon at the bottom taken from here.

Other funny New Year's Resolutions' Cartoons: here and here.