Road Works

En el post sobre mi visita a Madrid, ya dije que no me parecieron tan molestas las obras en Madrid. También dije que no vivo ahí y, por lo tanto, me refiero a que es una opinión basada en unas cuantas horas (¿Cuantas?) paseando por la capital del Estado.

La razón por la que no me parecieron tan molestas es simple: en una ciudad tan grande, si hay una calle cortada, puedes ir por otra. En el caso de que necesites ir a esa, tendrás que apechugar, pero el porcentaje de personas que tengan que apechugar, serán muy pequeño con respecto a la población total.

Mi pueblo está pasando en estos momentos por una situación muy incómoda. Tenemos las calles abiertas en canal. Y no digo unas cuantas, sino las principales. Desde la plaza de la foto, pasando por todo el eje comercial, hasta casi el final del centro del pueblo, atravesando la calle donde todas las tiendas están.
Los que apechugamos somos muchos, el porcentaje es alto.
No es lo mismo.

Mi pueblo (es una 'town' en realidad, pero no creo que merezcamos el ya obtenido título de 'ciudad') es lo suficientemente grande como para poder evitar el barullo de las escavadoras y los metales que tapan las aceras agujereadas. Sin embargo, es el centro. Todo el centro y está rompiendo la vida y el comercio.
Ara ve nadal... sí, pero navidad pasada por tierra.

A todo esto, CiU, aprovecha que (el año que viene hay elecciones, ¿verdad?) este malestar para insultar al ayuntamiento actual (PSC) enviando una carta a todos para que compremos en el pueblo. Sí, el gesto de "compra en casa porque lo pasamos mal" está bien, pero el gesto de "todo por culpa de esos idiotas" está súper mal. Mal, mal, mal... Señores de CiU, por el amor de Dios, si nos ponemos a rasgar un poco saldremos en las noticias. Marbella, Andratx, MiPueblo.

Artist's Game

Mal (a través de Xabi) me ha pasado un meme. Esta vez también es sobre música aunque también es algo personal.

Es un juego sencillo: eliges un artista (o banda, claro) y respondes a las preguntas utilizando títulos de canciones suyas. Evidentemente, en principio, se debe elegir sólo una canción por pregunta, pero es que, me cuesta tanto decidirme... que, vaya, hay algunas que tienen diferentes respuestas según el momento.
Ahí va.

1. Artista: Björk
2. ¿Eres hombre o mujer? Venus as a Boy
3. Descríbete: I Go Humble / The Triumph of a Heart
4. ¿Qué sienten las personas acerca de ti? Jóga (State of Emergency)
5. ¿Cómo describirías tu anterior relación sentimental? Immature
6. Describe tu actual relación con tu novio(a) o pretendiente: Violently Happy / Possibly Maybe / Like Someone in Love
7. ¿Dónde quisieras estar ahora? Pluto / New World
8. ¿Cómo eres respecto al amor? It's Not Up to You
9. ¿Cómo es tu vida? All is Full of Love / Big Time Sensuality
10. ¿Qué pedirías si tuvieras un solo deseo? Vökuró
11. Ahora despídete: Pleasure is all Mine

[Para una interpretación de la posible razón de estas respuestas: lyrics.]

Me toca pasarle el relevo a 5 bloggers más: Gatchan, Guillem, mi Mara Jade, -marsonico- y Winde.

Tal como somos

El sábado pasado (ayer no, hace ocho días) salí de fiesta. Viviendo en este pueblo es algo casi espectacular para mí. Sí, salgo a tomar una copa, pero hacía mucho que no salía a bailar.
La razón, la vuelta a casa de un amigo de una amiga. Lo lógico: cena en un italiano, primera copa en el centro y luego de bailoteo al puerto de Tarragona. Hacía tiempo que no salía y me sentí algo desorientado. Pero, una vez pasado el trance de los primeros minutos, tras haber vivido en nadie-me-conoce-aquí-Londres y haber pasado varios meses en aquí-hago-lo-que-me-viene-en-gana-Ibiza, me solté la melena (sigh) y me puse a bailar.
La gente con la que fui no es algo más pija y algo más "común" a lo que yo "soy", la verdad. De echo, cuando salgo con ellas, vamos a otro sitio que ponen música... hmm... bueno, que ponen los cuarenta, ya me entendéis. Aunque, a veces, ponen algo de techno. He de decir que lo único que me mueve a mí es el techno. Bueno, y el blues o el soul, pero tengo que ir fumado y no es que me ponga a bailar, sólo me muevo. Y cuando me ponen techno en ese sitio, pues bailo y estas chicas, con las que no salgo sino es a ese sitio, se sorprenden por mi forma de bailar (toda una go-go, ya tú sabes, LOL).
El caso es que esta vez, para hacer feliz a ese chico, fuimos a un sitio nuevo que acaban de abrir los mismos dueños de su local favorita. Supuestamente un local de ambiente (de ambiente gay, esto es) pero, la verdad, es que tiene más ambiente la pescadería de la plaza. Allí me pusieron techno toda la noche y me sentí como en 2001. Flash Back, estudio y trabajo en la capital de provincia romana y vivo a dos minutos de el puerto; cada fin de semana salgo por allí y me conozco a todo el mundo: la fiesta no llega hasta que llego yo.
Fue algo especial. Me encontré con viejos amigos y gente a la que, muy de vez en cuando, añoro. Ángeles caídos y almas en pena. Pero, también, me encontré a mí. A Habibi2001. A aquél chico que se lo pasaba bien y que era, como decimos aquí, una cabra loca, un culo inquieto. Tan inquieto que cogió un avión, de un día para el otro, y fue "the man who walked a thousand miles" para sentar la cabeza y encontrarse con un otro Habibi.
Melancolía.
El caso es que bailé como no había bailado en mucho tiempo. Mentira, igual o mejor me lo pasé cuando estuve "de vacaciones" en mi pueblo de las "vacaciones" que me estaba pegando en Ibiza en el festival de cine corto. Pero bueno, igualmente, hacía mucho tiempo y lo necesitaba. Necesitaba moverme. No era el alcohol lo que me movía, era la música.
En casa no tengo techno (bueno, a Paul Oakenfold; como me gusta la portada de su "Tranceport") en sí: tengo electrónica y dance pero no tengo chumba-chumba music. Pero todos tenemos un pasado. Yo, aquí donde me veis, fui bakalaero.
Todos pasamos por ciertas etapas en nuestra vida y a veces nos arrepentimos de alguna de ellas con el paso del tiempo. Yo no. Reconozco que he poseído el primer álbum de las Spice Girls, sí. También reconozco que lo tiré porque no quería que compartiese estantería con otras de las músicas que me han gustado o me gustan.
Todos cambiamos y el cambio es bueno, ¿verdad? ¿Qué nos diría Michael Jackson de esto? La verdad, no lo sé.
Lo único que sé es que con aquella música, aquél bailoteo, aquél lugar y aquella gente... me sentí, de nuevo, en 2001, un año en el que, a pesar de que me pasaron muchas cosas malas, también me pasaron muchas cosas buenas. A veces, creemos que la etapa a la que acabamos de dar carpetazo nos ha hecho mal, por hache o por be, pero, con el tiempo, sólo con el tiempo, nos damos cuenta que, a pesar de haber hecho el tonto, todo aquello fue por una buena razón.
Tengo dudas de si creo en el destino pero lo que tengo seguro es que, si mi hermana no me hubiera regalado el disco de las SG, Habibi2006 no existiría.

El tiempo pasa, ya lo he dicho, y a veces, es todo un juego, abrir el la caja que guardamos en el altillo y ver fotos de hace unos años, sacar los pantalones que ya no nos caben, o oír un disco que ya es todo un clásico.

***

No soy fan de La Oreja de Van Gogh, pero me acabo de encontrar esto y es un ejemplo perfecto para este post.

LODVG1998


LODVG2006

Y más...

Madonna1983


Madonna2006


The Sugarcubes (Björk)1988


Björk2004



Alanis1991


Alanis Morissette2005

[Wow, estaba buscando alguna imagen para poner por aquí y he estado viendo fotos de cuando era "más joven", y el cambio es tan sorprendente...]

Today, still

Today I wanted to say many thing... So many that words didn't come out. But I realise that, today, is one of those days when you better shut your mouth. Because there is still so many people who ignores how important it is to use protection. Because there is still so many people who ignores how important is the fight against HIV-AIDS... And, today, the World AIDS Day, is very important that we think in this little tool that can save our life. And not only ours.
We should not underestimate other sicknesses, obviously, but, like that one of today... none so strong, so hard.
Today, let's remember, how important it is to have our head straighten up and our condom well put.
Consult your doctor and do not pay attention to the non professionals.

Hoy, aún

Hoy quería decir tantas cosas... Tantas que no me han salido las palabras. Pero me doy cuenta que, hoy, es uno de esos días en los que más vale callar. Porque aún hay tanta gente que ignora lo importante que es usar protección. Porque aún hay gente que ignora lo importante que es la lucha contra el VIH-SIDA... Y, hoy, que es el Día Mundial de la lucha contra el SIDA, es importante que todos pensemos en este pequeño instrumento que nos puede salvar la vida. Y no solo la nuestra.
No se han de menospreciar, por eso, otras enfermedades, claro está, pero, como esta del día de hoy... ninguna tan dura.
Hoy, recordemos, lo importante que es tener la cabeza bien derecha y el condón bien puesto.
Consulta con tu médico y no le hagas caso a los no profesionales.

In my head

t.A.T.u.
All The Things She Said
200 km/h in the Wrong Lane
***

All the things she said
Running through my head
This is not enough

I'm in serious shit, I feel totally lost
If I'm asking for help it's only because
Being with you has opened my eyes
Could I ever believe such a perfect surprise?

I keep asking myself, wondering how
I keep closing my eyes but I can't block you out
Wanna fly to a place where it's just you and me
Nobody else so we can be free

All the things she said
Running through my head
This is not enough
Я сошла с ума
This is not enough
All the things she said

And I'm all mixed up, feeling cornered and rushed
They say it's my fault but I want her so much
Wanna fly her away where the sun and rain
Come in over my face, wash away all the shame
When they stop and stare – don't worry me
'Cause I'm feeling for her what she's feeling for me
I can try to pretend, I can try to forget
But it's driving me mad, going out of my head

All the things she said
Running through my head
This is not enough

All the things she said, she said

Mother looking at me
Tell me what do you see?
Yes, I've lost my mind

Daddy looking at me
Will I ever be free?
Have I crossed the line?

All the things she said
Running through my head
This is not enough

***

Тату
Я сошла с ума
200 По Встречной
***

All what we need

Relationships... Why are they so difficult?

I have asked that many times but, still, no response has ever convinced me.
Why the heck we are so complicated? That's a better question, because relationships are easy peasy, or are they?
This morning, while sipping on my café con leche, I found myself being stared at after my two cents of what life really is. Yes, we were talking, I don't remember what about, and I, suddenly, uttered some words that they weren't expecting me to utter: we are here, in this world, just to create life, to bear children; just like any other animal. Then I sipped my coffee and saw all those pairs of eyes looking at me like if I had just said the unbelievable story of how I went around the world in eighty days, walking. One of the girls opened her eyes and said "So, we aren't doing well" (none of us has children). I am gay, so it is quite difficult I have children of my own. Yes, I do want to have children, I have even picked names up, but, you know, not just yet (unless you finally marry me). My mother had my sister when she was my age. My sister is eight years older than I am and she hasn't had any children yet. She is married, though, not that it matters, because Mother Nature does not know about marriage. Mother nature does not seem to know many of the things we do, daily. Or does She?
Why are we so fucked up?
That's the real question. We think that we know everything, every step. But we don't. Not at all. Not even the smallest hint of it. We can't even imagine how life could be, so fucking great, if we let ourselves alone.
The other day I was speaking with a friend and we were talking about this relationships' deal, what else. We talked about her ex and how bad he must had felt when they last saw each other, at a big party, where she was enjoying herself. Hmph? Are you sure, dear? I said she wasn't right. Men are so simple and don't go saying: "Oh, look at her, she is having fun, how I miss the times when she and I were together and she was happy, not like the last months, when it was all grumpiness in hour home." No, that's not something a man would say. Slightly thinking about that, well, perhaps. But actually saying that? No way! We are easy, simple, and we like it that way. Of course, there are some exceptions, like in every single rule: some men are (we are), let's say, different. Well, let's talk clear: some of us have a wicked mind and go thinking and re-thinking about everything once and again. Why not saying it, some of us think about relationships like a woman would do.
Jorge Bucay said: the best way to answer to "I love you" is by saying "And I feel loved by you". I thought that was both clever and true (because not all true things are clever). It is so difficult to answer to those very difficult words, you know that as well as I do, and whatever you chose to answer, will be a mistake. Because if you say "Me too" it just sounds so forced, so fake, that you wish that a Acme branded anvil fell on you to avoid the situation; and if you answer "Oh, thanks".... well... you know what happens then, don't you? I have said that, and I felt so bad. Bad is not the word.
Bucay also said in some other book that the we should acknowledge the other's love. I mean, that we should never expect others to love us as we love them. Imagine we can measure love: if X loved Y 80L (out of hundred; L being the measurement of Love) and Y love X back 60L, that shouldn't be a problem if X needed 60L to be happy and Y needed 80. Because loving more or loving less than what you NEED (note, I said NEED, not WANT or WISH) is bad.

Relationships... yes. They are weird.
Sometimes I just feel like I am a clementine and my "better half" is an orange. So we don't match.
Is that what really happens? Is that I am different (or he is)? Or is it just that I am having too high expectations.
Why do we always expect so much of our partners? Why don't we just accept them as they are? Are we giving them what they expect of us? And in case we are not, why the hell did God give us Language? If I need... whatever... and... whoever... isn't giving it to me, why aren't I asking for it, I mean, with words?
Alanis sings "would I be whining if I said I needed a hug?"
Would I?
Why are we so scared of telling what we really feel? Why are we keeping that shell of us? To protect from what others can do to us or to protect what we can feel? Is it Love what we are protecting ourselves of? What is Love, anyway?

What is it?
Do we really need it? Does it make us breath?

Perhaps. Perhaps it does. "Love is all you need".

Escúchame

Para mí siempre ha sido muy importante el lenguaje, y a veces me pregunto como es que el resto del mundo parece pasar de largo sin preocuparse si las cosas están bien.

Aunque parezca mentira, lo que quiero hablar esta vez es sobre la violencia de género. De género femenino, esto es. Y no es que quiera negar la existencia del maltrato del hombre en la pareja, porqué haberlos haylos, pero son tan pocos, que como las llamadas "enfermedades raras", casi ni merecen la pena la mención.
El otro día hubo un acto en contra de la violencia doméstica en mi pueblo. Yo me enteré cuando se había acabado. En el caso de haberlo sabido, y de no haber estado trabajando a la hora, me hubiera gustado asistir, aunque fuera para hacer bulto, para que se viera que hay mucha gente que está en contra.
El caso es que quién me lo dijo fue una miembro del grupo de mujeres de mi pueblo, a quienes no se les había informado del acto.
El caso es que tengo que hacer una denuncia. No voy a denunciar a un maltratador, pero sí a un encubridor. Este personaje no es sólo una persona sino muchas. Muchas personas que se dedican a promover la lucha contra la violencia de género. Parece contradictorio, ¿verdad? Pues es que últimamente me estoy dando cuenta de que hay muchos anuncios, etc., sobre este tema y no paro de ver como nos estamos equivocando. No hemos de aprendernos el teléfono para denunciar que nos están maltratando, tenemos que evitar que esto ocurra. "Sí, claro, fácil decirlo" pensaréis. Pero es que no podemos andar por la vida poniendo soluciones a los errores cuando podemos evitar que haya un error. Por eso nuestros profesores, toda la vida, nos han dicho que hagamos esquemas de las redacciones y trabajos que vamos a hacer, para no encontrarnos que no hay coherencia, que tengo que volver a empezar porque me he dejado algo. Ahora, con las computadoras, todo es más fácil, pero la vida real no es como un juego de los Sims, no hay vuelta atrás.
La verdad es que no sé como el gobierno (esto no es una crítica, porque el gobierno anterior lo hizo igual o peor) está atacando este tema. Pero yo creo que todo esto se debería tratar desde pequeños, desde la más tierna infancia. Desde, justo desde, el trato con los profesores. Tanto esto como muchas otras cosas. El respeto debería ser enseñado desde pequeño.
No, no le voy a echar la culpa a los profes, porque no la tienen, para nada. Quienes tienen la culpa son los padres, que lo permiten. Deberíamos todos volver al cole a que nos enseñaran a respetar, porque no lo estamos haciendo bien. No podemos ir felices pensando que todo se arregla con poner una Help Line. No, no señor. Todo se arregla con evitarlo.
Algo parecido me contaron sobre los cinturones de seguridad en Inglaterra. Creo que ya he hablado de esto en algún momento (indeed).

No lo entiendo, no. No comprendo como la gente puede vivir tranquila sabiendo que su hijo o hija, cuando crezca, robará, pegará, matará... ¿Cómo lo permitís? Yo no tengo hijos y siempre digo que educaré mejor de lo que me han educado a mí (aún gracias) y a mis crueles compañeros de clase. Pero me equivoco, porque seguro que acabaré cometiendo los mismos errores. Es una pena que los humanos seamos tan estúpidos. Human behaviour.

Una vez en mi vida tuve que llamar a la poli porque mi vecino estaba maltratando a su novia. Era en London y los "bobbies" llegaron en un santiamén, en tres cuatro y un furgón. A él se lo llevaron. Lo metieron en un centro y volvió al cabo de un mes como una persona nueva, que me pidió perdón y todo. Ella volvió con él. Como tantas. Pero "eso es otra historia y debe ser contada en otra ocasión".

En mi mente: las utopías
En mis oídos: Tracy Chapman - Behind the Wall

REU-LDN-MAD

Last night I arrived from my long week-end in Europe. It didn't feel like it was some countable days but some sort of imaginary time measure that stretched itself to create a new amount of time. This new X(for the quantity) X(for the name of the new time measure) lasted as long and as short as one could imagine, but it wasn't just over four days but, at least, what we, Earthlings (LG), call a month.

I am not going to go through all details, you know I don't like that, neither am going to recall on why everything happened how it happened. But there is some stuff I have to say. I need to say. Deserve to be said.

On some point of the beginning of this period of time, I flew to London from the beautiful city of Reus (I should have had a stop over in Paris and it would have done the long known sentence of "Reus, Paris, London"). Flying, since this Summer, is horrible for me. Thank god I met a lovely English girl who helped me over the trip. Thank you so much.
I arrived in London and what came to me, a part of the I-am-home feeling was the chaos that suddenly I found. Perhaps I felt it that way because I was a chaos, as well. But, anyway, my what-is-the-easiest-way-to-get-there chip, wasn't working. Also, there were some "planned" engineering works that I wasn't told of and a Chelsea match I wasn't aware of. So, finally, I arrived to my friend's house in Fulham Broadway just to get changed and get going to celebrate ThanksGiving in Brixton.
Very early on our arrival at the house I realised that was going to be the best party I had ever been to. And it certainly was. Delicious food (no turkey, all happened to be vegetarian, but it wasn't on purpouse, just happened). I can't recall all the great things of the party. The house, the menu cards and name tags, the music. And certainly the people. We were a bunch of people who didn't know each other. There was not one person who knew all of them. But we matched, at least that's what I think. Everybody was talking to someone, no little groups were formed. Just what I was needing for: good, intelligent, friendly talk.
I was supposed to prepare some "rom cremat" ("burnt rum", which is rum, the peel of a lemon, cinnamon stick, clove and sugar, a la flambé), but it didn't turn out, I just couldn't make it burn. That was my contribution to the party, bringing some of what those Catalans who went to the Americans brought back. Although different part of America the continent, the same America in the end. Hope, one day, you guys, come to celebrate Eleven September ("day" of Catalonia) with me, here, and I can do it right.
It wasn't a traditional ThanksGiving, it was just fabulous.

The next day was a relaxing calm day walking around and talking all what was left to talk about, which was a lot. Could meet just two of my friends there, and I couldn't meet someone very special. Hope next time will be better.
I know some people might be upset with me for not being able to meet, so I say sorry from here.

I felt great in London. More than great. I felt "me". Walking through the city, visiting shops, having tea and cake (Man, I love the cake!).
But we had to go.
We took a plane and then it was all Madrid around us.
There are many things that come up to my mind when I think of the city. Some are great, and some are not. There are that surprise me and there are that distract me.
I have to say that Madrid urgently needs a signalization freshen up. The metro is a mess, lines have numbers and colours but they are named by the start off and the end (whatever this means, because both are both) of the line. But that's not the worse thing: if you don't want to get lost, you have to be from there, or at least live in. When in London there would be a hundred signals, in Madrid there is one. I don't know if they are saving on metal/plastic, but what they are wasting is time. For instance, at Atocha train station, I wandered around for a good ten minutes before I arrived to the right place: there were signals saying just the opposite to one another. And the escalators; oh, my god, they drove me crazy: if you had to go on three escalators, you'd find the one going up in the right and the next two in the left (with corridors in between, of course, not just ahead one another). And all for stops that you could walk, really. [Once we were at Puerta de Alacalá, or something, and we asked for directions to get to Chueca (Soho, Village) and the girl told us: "That's so far, better take the metro": it was just about ten minutes walk.]
The city is very polluted. So much traffic. So many cars.
There are great shops and great trendy people. They look clean.
Many, many blind people.
I don't live there, but it didn't seem such a big deal the road works (my city is now wide open as well and it is a pain in the ass, really) but perhaps is because it is big enough to be able to get somewhere else.
People is kind (except some waiters and the woman at the fruit shop in Chueca Square).
Coffee tastes like coffee and is black black even if you wanted "cortado".
El Retiro is great. I don't know why is always so quiet: I'd be there all the time.
So many gay guys and so many handsome guys (not only in Chueca, but all around the city).
It is clean.
People does not know how to walk.
The metro is quiet: the actual train (both meaning silent and not moving much) and the people in it.

There are many things but I can't recall all of them right now. Over all I liked the city a lot, after twelve years. I wouldn't live there (need water) but I'd like to go visit once in a while.

One of the last nights of that-amount-of-time-we-got-created, we went to Sala Clamores to the concert of Anna Maria Jopek. There we were Gatchan, Mal (plus two) and me (plus one). I was called the "fan". I have never liked that terminology for myself. I am not a fan of anyone. I like some artists' music but that's all. In fact, this was one of the few "real" concerts I've been to. By real I mean someone I own an album of before the day. Actually, it might actually be just the one. I have most of AMJ's discography and I have to say I like her a lot. And now, that I have seen her live, I am willing to make other efforts to see her again.The venue was a nice small intimate place. There were Poles but less than I'd expected.
She sung songs from her album "Secret", which is the English one of which I had expected the whole concert, and for my great surprise, from "Niebo" and my favourite "Farat" along with a new song of, once again, a version of an Sting's song.
I'm no expert in music, I just know what I like, that's why I am going to let the review for others (Gatchan, I thought you would have commented the concert by now). I must say that she was very nice: she spoke little in Polish, quite in English, and quite a lot in Spanish. She even sung in the city's language. Her accent in Spanish was great. She pronounced the s's as the Polish ś (like an English 'sh') and a couple of c's as in her language (like the 'ts' in cats), but what she said was perfectly well structured with a pure Castilian grammar. She was even funny and she made us sing (men, and blonds against brunettes). Her Spanish was actually great with perfect plurals (Polish plural isn't ending in -s like in Spanish or English: jeden kawanos, dwa kawanosy).

I had recently obtained a camera so I made some photos. I am no photographer and I am just learning how to use it. Also, the light was down but I got a couple I am actually proud of. Also, I got many that are blurred but which I like a lot.
Also, I recorded a video (below) of her version of "Don't Speak", for me the best cover ever. Again, you'll understand that I used a photo camera and that this was the first time I ever recorded anything. Though, it is a hint of what you can get if you get hold with her albums or you get to see her live (she plays tonight in Gijón, and on the following time in Estonia, Poland and Germany); you can find all the info at her site, there is a mistake on the English version so I would trust more the Polish one (koncerty).
Oh, I have to say that Marek Napiórkowski, wow, that's a heaven of a guitarist.

The next morning was a relaxing shopping and walking at the Retiro day, were we run into one of the friends of Mal and we were delighted with lovely "Over the Rainbow" on the acordion.
In the afternoon I took a train to Tarragona. It was only 4 hours and I was expecting a very long very pleasant trip. It was pleasant and calm, indeed, but it was short. I love trains.

Many more things happened, many emotions, laughter, many smiles. New, hopefully, friendships: Gatchan and Mal (plus his plus two's).
I can't find the words... but, all what happened this weekend made me so happy. The way everybody has treated me. The fact that, for firs time, I puzzled something from scraps, i.e. the concert with people who weren't that in touch of her music, everything...
There are no words...
So I'll leave it at here.

Anna Maria Jopek - Don't Speak
Sala Clamores, Madrid, Spain - 21 Nov 06

Photos: 1 Bishops Park, Fulham, London, UK;
2. Image of a screan of my new camera that appeard
on the train to the airport. Taken by L(isf)G.
3 Chueca metro station, Plaza de Chueca, Madrid, Spain;
4. Anna Maria Jopek, Sala Clamores, Madrid, Spain.

Two coins of the same side

I went to my university yesterday for first time. Yeah, I know, this is the second year studying at this open university and I didn't go last year not one day a part of the examination days. I don't have to go as they are not proper classes, but help and guidance. Though, it is very nice to go, especially so you keep a schedule and you achieve knowledge on some time basis.

So I went. I have to say that, again, Renfe, Spanish train operator, made me wait almost an hour. I was with a school mate. I met her last year when I went to the first exam. It was great to catch up and, since the uni is so far away, we had time and time to talk about everything. So, we missed the first lesson but I had class for three of my four subjects. The other one, there is no class actually. [The one we had missed was the first half and we had the second half later on, so it was fine.] I am not going to bore you with what I study (or at least not know, since I have no clue of what I study, actually! LOL).
That is going to seem silly but one of my subjects is Catalan and the other is English. Taking into account that I study Spanish, it is actually funny! But the thing is that I took those two so I would have it easier to pass the course. With Catalan, I was wrong. It is actually quite of a thing. But English... well, as far as I have seen, there won't be much problem.
So my teacher. She is Swiss or Swedish. I didn't quite get it cuz she said something like "Back in Swiss..." which I was surprised of. Perhaps it is a kind of slang or she just pronounced Sweden so fast that I understood it wrong.
Anyway. The thing is that we got engaged in a conversation (I was the only pupil) and she was trying to convince me of things that I was totally sure of. Or things that I just don't like. Also, she said that my pronunciation of the word 'come' is wrong. I pronounce it more like with the 'o' of 'omelet' and she said that I should pronounce it like if I was saying 'cum'. Yeah, I know that some, perhaps most, of people say [kΛm] but, also, most of people say [mΛm] but you can't say [mom] is wrong cuz there are some loads of British who say it like that (have you seen "Calendar Girls"?). So this bothered me a bit. I know my pronunciation is horrible with this annoying Spanish accent (you lucky you read [with mistakes] me). Though, I don't like when people excludes some part of people because they don't speak standard. I am proud of my SEV (Spanish English Vernacular), if I can call it like that. The thing is that she said, also, that I should choose between American accent or the British one. First of all, I am not having a spoken test. So, I don't really care. Second, she had some American pronunciations and some British ones. How does she dare telling me that, then?
But one thing that bothered me a lot was the fact that she said Spanish Philology. Well, most of my friends don't use or even know the word philology (check second last entry). I've seen that some London universities call a similar degree to what I do as 'Spanish Studies'. Yeah, it is alright, since it is in the UK and speaking in English. But we were both also users of Spanish language and we could call it properly. My degree title will be on "Filología Hispánica". OK, it translates to Spanish and to Hispanic. Well, that's not really accurate. When we talk of Spanish whatever, we mean that of Spain. Yeah, you can understand also of part of South America, too, but, knowing the words, why not using them? So, since she was using 'philology', which no one uses, why didn't she used 'Hispanic', which no one uses either, if they are the real translations? I don't only study the language and the literature of Spain. I also study those things of the rest of Spanish speaking territories (including the US, of course).
The worse of everything, is that she told me that she had never heard the word 'Hispanic'. Well, dear, perhaps you didn't hear the word talking about philology, but, hey, how many times have we heard the word 'hispano' in a US movie?

In high school, we used to learn what is called 'false friend' like 'exit', which seems that is the Catalan word 'èxit', that translates for 'success'.
Also, we, non-English-mother-tongue-ers, use words that are very similar in our language even if it isn't common.

Anyway, "it is late and it wants to rain". Hope you understood what I just explained.

El tiempo

Bebe canta "que el tiempo corre, en patines, cuesta abajo y no tiene freno" y es que en mi caso, últimamente, parece que vuele. Pegas un saltito y de repente, cuando quieres darte cuenta, ya han pasado dos semanas (sin ir a la autoescuela) o dos meses (sin postear) o un año (sin ir a Londres) o dos (desde que volví).

Ufff...
Nunca he sufrido por los cambios de temperatura, ni de lugar, ni de tiempo ni nada en general de lo que se suele quejar la gente. Sí, por eso, siempre me he quejado de lo mucho que me cuesta acostumbrarme a una cama nueva o a compartirala. Pero este año, no sé si por causas de la acumulación de pensamientos en mi olla exprés o por qué, pero es que el cambio de estación me ha afectado/me está afectando sobremanera. Lo cierto es que estamos ya casi a mitad de noviembre y todavía puedo ir con camiseta de manga corta por la calle, cuando vuelvo del trabajo, a mediodía. Por la mañana no, por la mañana hace frío, a las siete y media de la madrugada cuando aún no hay nadie por la calle. A la noche vuelve a refrescar y ya me pongo la camiseta de manga larga para estar por casa. Pero aún no he sacado la chaqueta y me da pereza ir a mirarme una nueva, la que tengo ya está muy llevada.
Me gusta el frío y tengo ganas de que llegue de una vez.
Los huesos me han dolido como nunca me habían dolido antes. El cansancio me ha seguido allá por donde he ido. El sofá se me ha comido como si no hubiera comido en un mes. Y las cosas de mi "To Do List" se me han ido acumulando. Los pedacitos de papel, las notas, los artículos, los posts por leer... se han ido amontonando. Los temas por estudiar. Los tests por hacer. Y el tiempo pasa. Time goes by so fast. Life is passing us by mientras estamos ocupados intentando darnos cuenta de lo que sucede.
Y, de repente, la escusa perfecta. De repente, un ángel llama a tu puerta diciéndote "hola guapo" y tú te sorprendes. ¿Cómo no te ibas a sorprender? Si ya, con este sopor, no sabes ni entender el reloj de agujas.
El ángel ha entrado y ya estás tomando té. Té, con scones, quizás. Té con pastitas francesas. O quizás es chocolate con porras. Una cañita, un pinchito. Comer. Comer. Sopa, ya es tiempo de empezar a comer sopa.
El tiempo vuela, y de repente te das cuenta que el ángel se ha ido. ¿A dónde has ido?
Me estoy dejando llevar, algo impropio de mí; mi inhibidor no funciona por los imanes que me han regalado. Quizás esta es la manera de sacar el tapón. Quizás es la manera de aprovechar la vida un poco más. Agarrarme a este tren que me lleva a Madrid, haciendo escala en Londres.
Si todo fuera tan fácil... Pero es que el tiempo vuela y la vida me está pasando de largo (mientras te espero).

La imagen la he hecho yo a partir de una foto que
tomé en Holand Road, London, donde vivía en 2003.
No soy diseñador y me ha costado mucho hacerla.
Perdonar la imperfección.

Me acabo de dar cuenta de que hay un error en la imagen.
Pone 'foto' en vez de 'photo'.
Lo siento.

Catalonia, once again

I have discussed many times about what the language that is spoken in Catalunya, Regne de València, Illes Balears, Aragón, Múrica, South of France, Alghero and Andorra, which I speak, should be named. And I said many times that if "Catalan" was called "Pepito Language", Valencians would not have a problem to say they speak Pepito when also Catalans are saying they speak Pepito.

Whether that language begun in Catalunya or València is not what I want to talk about. Some people say that the origins are in València, supporting this idea in the fact that the first book written in the language was written in the Valencian variety. Others, like at the Wikipedia think otherwise.
The fact that there has been a rivalry between València and Catalunya is common knowledge. The fact that "they" dislike "us" is not news. The fact that they would kill themselves before accepting they speak Catalan, is... stupid, obviously, because there is no-one in Western countries who would fight for their believes like they did in the past or like they are doing (not saying is good) in some Islamic countries.
The thing is that last year, despite the opinion of most of the philologists, Valencian became a Language de jure as it became the official language of the Kingdom of València. Not really sure what was the new thing from the law made in the 80's, though, they were talking about that on the news.
So a language. OK, I am going to start writing in my CV that I understand Valencian as a Near Native although I speak it differently, but they can understand me.
There is not such a problem in Illes Balears or Andorra. I never heard a Andorran saying that s/he speaks Andorran, and it is a different country than Spain and could do whatever they wanted. Though, they say they speak Catalan.

But as always, there is two sides of the coin. There are those people who think that Valencian is a total distinct language from Catalan and there are those who think it is the same. This is me, for example.The other day I ran into a demonstration in my town. Imagine, a town where nothing ever happens and there it was the Baix Gaià'n Correllengua (lit. run-tongue) by the CAL, an association to preserve the Catalan Language. Baix Gaià is the region where my town is, a non-comarca, to make themselves distinct from the comarca of Tarragonés.
So, in the image you can see a rather small demonstration. Sorry, the picture isn't good but I made it with my cell phone. In the banner it says "One tongue, one nation" and it depicts the map of where Catalan is spoken except for Alghero, in Italy. So, they want the union of all the Catalan speaking territories. Though, what is important here is that they consider all those regions as speaking one same language. Isn't that funny? And the funniest thing is that those people came from València and from Terres de l'Ebre or La Quinta Província (again, this is a non-province in the south of Catalunya that is commonly distinguished from the rest of the province of Tarragona, also by non Quinta-Província'ns).
In this picture you can see a €10 note with some stuff written on it. I got it a couple of days after the demonstration. The 'bingo' thing, I don't know why is it t here and either why the SE of Poland and the E of Belarus and Ukraine is marked. But, as you can see, it is written "Is not Spain" near a circle around Catalunya. Not even all the "Païssos Catalans".
This note was given to me by an old lady who comes to the bar where I work. She is Catalan and her language is Catalan and nothing else. I translate to her what was written and she said something like "Silly: of course Catalonia is Spain, it has always been. So stupid! Aren't we Spanish?" I nodded. Yeah, we are, right? Who am I to argue with an old lady?

Also, as you can see, there is a circle around Galicia and the slogan "Nunca Máis" (with as spelling mistake): the only intelligent thing in this post.

Tomorrow I will spend the note. If you see it around, let me know.

[Sorry I am not here much but I've been quite busy. Also, the change of season has affected me a lot, even though I love Fall. I am quite moody these days and, on top, I am ill.]

[This post is obviously dedicated to Ian, the most international Clicktalan.]

Listening to "I Miss You (Dobie Rub Part One - Sunshine Mix)" from Björk's album "Telegram".

Listen Carefully

[Lately I've been very disperse and I have posted many things at a time. This has been for my own personal situation, of course, and because I've been quite away from here. Before I used to blog from work but this summer I've been off work and now, at my current job, I don't use a computer. Imagine, I miss blog-reading every morning first thing. So, since I don't come that often, I write all what has been bugging me in the same post. I am going to try to keep only one subject at a time, now. But this is going to be a short post.]

I am late, I know. This is about the Pope Benedict XVI. We all already know what he said, right? Briefly, he said that 'his' God isn't as violent as other's. I didn't hear the proper words, so maybe I am mistaking in what he exactly said, but what he meant is that Catholic religion is best.
I have always "hated" when people has made statements as they were facts. I do them, as well, as I am human. You can read back. Though, I really try not to do them.
I have already talked about how I don't like how people uses the word "important", "normal" or actually any statement that does not go with the "my point of view" or such, part. So, that's why I am not going to say HOW WRONG was the Pope. Yeah, I am saying he was wrong and this is an statement. But, c'mon guys, you are with me, right? Actually, he, the Pope, is with me.
Why I came today (today because I didn't have time the last few days) to talk about that is because he said, when he gathered with the heads or people representing other religions in Italy (or something like that), that they have to find a way to accept each other's religions and to get closer.
I really couldn't help it laughing.
Come on, only the fact that there is more than one religion would already make me think that somehow we are doing something wrong. Listen, I am not saying at all that God does not exist, because she may or may not exist, but it isn't my business to decide so. This is something we all feel. What I am saying is that religion has to be totally wrong. This is my opinion.
What is obvious and I have heard saying to many religious chiefs, is that there is one God, how it is called is something else. So, OK. Let's say I accept the existence of God (whether I do or not, is only my business as it is only your business if you do or don't), fine. Then, what then, even the religions that have the same God are different. Because, the Jews, the Catholics, the Protestants, the Anglicans, the Mormons... don't they actually have the same God? Because saying that Catholic God and Islam's God is the same is harder to believe, because the difference between "religions" (note the inverted commas, i.e. not Faith; note the capital letter) is something man-made. Absolutely. Faith is Faith and it is only in the within of each one of us. Religion is just like the skin.
So, OK, I was saying I accept that God exists. Fine. Then, what religion should I follow? This is where I realise that religion is something I don't need.
Right now, many Muslims around the world are celebrating Ramadan. I will have to wait a few more months until Lent. I don't eat much meat, but I should not eat meat on Fridays. This is quite common in the UK. Here in Spain, not at all, only Good Friday.
Why is that? Why does "my" God (I say my because I grew up in this society, it could have been any other) let me eat anything and "my neighbour's God" does not? Wasn't the same one?
I am not going to start speaking about the whys of the differences between religions, i.e. not eating pork, cow; fasting, Ramadan, Christmas, Hanukkah... Just check the Wikipedia or any other source.

Ufff... it is being very hard to explain myself.
I don't mean to insult anyone, of course, when I say that religions are wrong. My thoughts are clear: Faith is Faith and your Faith should never interfere with your social life or any other aspect of your life. What I am trying to say is that your Faith should stay in your house and don't ever let that create a fight between you and your friends or neighbours. This has happened. Even between members of a family.
And what is worse: I have a friend who died because his religion didn't let him have an operation. hmph... [no words].
What I also want to say is that, if in any case we should have a religion we should have ONE. (I won't discuss the Social Work they do –as opium–, not building things, that they do as well, but this isn't the most important.) What we should do is unify them. Yeah, right, I am against Globalization, almost for anything. But, hey, if this is supposed to be a truth de facto, a dogma, why is it regional? Why it isn't de jure? Idon't get it.

Well, I don't know if you have understood me. But I must go now.
I don't know if I have understood myself. But I am hungry.
T-time.

City life

Lily Allen : LDN
"Alright,Still", Regal Zonophone Records, 2006

Riding through the city on my bike all day
'Cause the filth took away my licence
It doesn't get me down and I feel ok
Cause the sights that I'm seeing are priceless

Everything seems to look as it should
But I wonder what goes on behind doors
A fella looking dapper, but he's sittin with a slapper
Then I see it's a pimp and his crack whore

You might laugh you might frown
Walkin' 'round London town

Chorus
Sun is in the sky oh why oh why
Would I wanna be anywhere else?
Sun is in the sky oh why oh why
Would I wanna be anywhere else?

When you look with your eyes
Everything seems nice
But if you look twice
you can see it's all lies

There was a little old lady, who was walkin' down the road
She was struggling with bags from Tesco
There were people from the city havin' lunch in the park
I believe that it's called al fresco
Then a kid came along to offer a hand

But before she had time to accept it
hits her over the head, doesn't care if she's dead
'Cause he's got all her jewellery and wallet

You might laugh you might frown
walkin' 'round London town

Repeat chorus

When you look with your eyes
Everything seems nice
But if you look twice
you can see it's all lies

Life, that's city life, yeah that's city life, that's city life
Life, that's city life, yeah that's city life, that's city life

Repeat chorus x 4

One

Today one year ago, I was bored at that horrible Real Estate office and I was, as usual, diving on the net. I was checking what was new and hot at Google and I discovered Blogger. I wasn't, then, a blog reader but I became. Also, on that day, I became a blog owner.

I opened my account at Blogger trying to escape from the boredom at work (the time it says is wrong, I guess I hadn't changed it to GMT+1 yet).

Now, still, I am not writing everything in here and spending most of my time with it, but I have another blog, I read other blogs almost every day and even have met so many very nice people through it –one of them even in flesh (:P).

So, today, Ten to the Dozen is one year old. Since November last year I have had about seventeen hundred visits. And this will only be post number ninety.
Thank you all of you, guys, who come around here, because you make my day with your comments.

[The cake was made by my sister-the-chef to celebrate my birthday, that was on the 14th but we partied last night. It was absolutely delicious –still have half of it, wanna some?]

Back to Life, back to reality!

Bueno, ya he vuelto a mi tierra. A mi pueblo. A mi piso. A mi tranquilidad.

¡Qué descanso!
Llegué aneteayer. Ayer fue mi cumpleaños. Veinticinco. Yo estoy contento. Es un número bonito. Tiene fuerza. Además, ya es una edad en la que tienes que empezar a ser adulto. A ver si me consideran adulto de una vez. ¿Tendrá algo que ver que yo no me comporte como tal?
Además, ayer empecé a trabajar. Esta vez vuelvo a ser camarero en un café con mucho encanto. Es un sitio genial, mi hermana es chef allí por las noches (pero no nos vemos ya que yo voy de mañanas). Trabajo con una amiga y nuestros jefes son muy majos –ya les conocía de antes. La verdad es que echaba de menos ser camarero. Me gusta. Pero no echaba de menos el dolor de pies y el levantarme pronto. Supongo que me acostumbraré, tan solo es el segundo día tras casi cuatro meses sabáticos.
De los exámenes aún no sé nada y hoy es mi noveno día sin fumar. Sí, sé que en enero dije que dejaba de fumar, pero fue imposible. Lo intenté varias veces durante el año, pero siempre surgía algo. Me he pasado el verano convenciéndome y al fin ha dado frutos. Mi hermano y yo quedamos que dejábamos de fumar juntos pero él, al día siguiente, ya estaba fumando. Al día siguiente de mi último examen, el día 7 de septiembre, fue mi primer día sin fumar. Dejé de fumar. O, mejor dicho, empecé a dejar de fumar. Pensé que sería difícil, especialmente viviendo con un fumador. Pero lo superé. Y superé estar con otros fumadores. ¿Cómo? A base de chocolate (Milka con leche y sin almendras ni nada).
Mi move a Londres... no sé cuando va a ser. Más temprano o más pronto. Ya veremos.

Y así están las cosas. No he recibido regalos de cumpleaños materiales. Sólo el placer de estar con parte de mi-gente querida y el mejor regalo de todos: la voz.

Listening to: "It's Good to Be in Love" - Frou Frou - "Details"

Beautiful Stranger

I said a few days ago that I was going to watch the movie "Gadjo Dilo" and I finally did yesterday.

I had asked my sister to get the movie from another library with the Inter-Library loan service. It happened to be in VHS, which I don't have, so I was waiting to go one day to her house to watch it, but then I moved here and I didn't have the opportunity. So, she watched the movie and told me it was very boring. Though, I watched it last night and I loved it, really.

The movie goes about this French guy whose father had a tape of a Romany singer called Nora Luca and goes to Romania to find her and record her. But what he finds in Romania is more than what he expected.
I think it is a great movie full of very nice images and wonderful music. Also, there is a scene that is so significant for me: he is walking away of a Gypsy village and everyone is calling him thief. He, the "giant" gadjo dilo (i.e. crazy stranger), the pale-faced, was being yelled at while he was leaving; they were shouting he'd steal their hens.
I really thought that scene was meaningful as, normally, what happens is the other way around.
Almost a year ago I talked about the Gypsies in Barcelona. It is real pity that we think that way. When I explained the try-to Gypsy robbery, I didn't make any prejudgement. Of course, they could be non-Gypsies on a disguise. But, as far as I know, they were.
Along this year I have been thinking about the Roma People a few times. At least in Spain, I have seen many times Gypsies in the trains begging. They say mostly the same, always. They say "io vengo de la Romanía" (the "io" is how they say "yo", i.e. I). I always thought that when they were saying Romanía they really meant Rumanía which is the Spanish for the Eastern European country's name. But, no. Romanía is the Spanish for Roma (people). Which made me think a lot on the difference we see between the Spanish Gypsies (which we call Gitanos) and the "proper" Gypsies, which are those nomad people who come from Eastern Europe and the Balkans. Of course, there is not really much relation between calés and payos. "Calé" are how Spanish Gypsies call themselves (i.e. Rom), and "payo" how they call us, whiteys (i.e. gadjo). I am not talking about the famous ones like Lola Flores and her family, Joaquín Cortés or Farruquito.
There are whole Calé boroughs in any major city of Spain. Even one here in Eivissa, called Sa Penya (i.e. The Crag, as it is in the lower part of the Old Town situated on the rock). Many people has told me over the summer that they would never go through those streets. Though, when my friend was here, we were wandering around and we got in. There was a whole family having dinner in the street and the patriarch made them to let us pass. Obviously, I said 'thank you' but, I had a prejudgement: when we were in the end of the street I thought "When are they gonna come to rob us?" They didn't. I was an arsehole (although it didn't get out of my brain).
There are many in Barcelona. I think their borough is called La Mina (The Mine), if I am not wrong. I have a friend who works there and he was invited to a wedding and he showed us the video. Their wedding consists, mostly, in the virginity check-out (which is painful to her and then the mother or someone goes around with the blood-spotted handkerchief showing that she was a virgin) and then they are brought out on shoulders and thrown sugared almonds (peladillas) for a while (like big big rice grains) and then, the already husband and wife, dance between all of them while the rest sing some song I can't remember ( gigi or something).
In the movie there is an scene of a marriage too but it goes different: more like the Ancient Roman marriage (where they pretended to kidnap the wife). The father shouts and cries saying that he won't let the groom get his daughter. Then, they share some Vodka and hug. Then they dance and sing. Easy, huh? (Much better than the boring sermons at Christian Churches.)
The virgin thing is surprising: they talk about the virginity of their daughters aloud and in public. "We" wouldn't do that. Not even our own.

A book I read not long ago ("¿Qué son las lenguas?" , which translates to "What are Languages?", by Enrique Bernárdez) talks about the word "gadjo". I wrote it down but I have lost the paper, and I don't have the book here. So, if I am not wrong, he says the word "gadjo" or "gadzo" is the masculine of "gadzi" which comes from the name of the Indian Goddess Kali. What surprises me of that (now that I am trying to recall what I read) is that Kali is the Black Madonna (Like the Virgin of Montserrat) in Catalunya or the one of Częstochowa in Poland). This is weird because they are normally darker than "us". But, anyway, I am not sure of that now. I'll have to check it again.
The funny thing of this is that Bart Simpson, in the Spanish dub, calls "gachí" to the "chicks". So, it must have something to be with the word "gadzi", I guess.

There is something that is very interesting. I am not an expert in music or in the Roma culture, but it seems to me that there is a big difference between the traditional Gypsies of Spain or those in the rest of Europe. In Spain they play Flamenco or Cante Jondo. In other countries such France they play traditional Romany music. There is an obvious distinction between different Roma communities because of dialect they speak or origin. Those in Spain, are one of the variants. But, as I see, there is more than language and situation; there is also the clothing, the culture, and so on.

We know nothing about the Roma People, really. We think they are just thieves. Of course, there are, truly. But we can't say that all Russia is a big Mafia family because what we see here in Spain. We can't generalize so much. There are nice, good, humble, honest Calé and Rom, surely. As there are good Catholics or whiteys, I guess.
We should never take things for granted. But, unfortunately, this is just "Human Behaviour".

Again, there is some stuff I wanted to say but I have missed the track.
Please, check the site of the Romani Project in Manchester.
"Gadjo Dilo" is part of a trilogy. Although, I think Tony Gatlif has more than three Gypsy realted movies.
I really like Romain Duris.

There is a song by Mecano that I really like which talks about a Gypsy woman. There is a French version that I like a lot as well. My favourite bit sings:

D'un gitan cannelle
Naquit l'enfant
Tout comme l'hermine,
Il était blanc,
Ses prunelles grises
Pas couleur olive
Fils albinos de lune
"Maudit sois tu, bâtard!
T'es la fils d'un gadjo
T'es le fils d'un blafard."
Dis-Moi Lune d'Argent – Mecano – Aidalai (France)

I couldn't find any video (a part of this one), but here there is the song:
[Lyrics]

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Listening to "Disparaitra" by Rona Hartner, Petre Badea, Valentin Rotary from the album "Gadjo Dilo (Un film de Tony Gatlif)", the OST of the movie (which I have before seeing the movie).

No lo entiendo

No lo entiendo. El artículo número dieciséis de la constitución española promete que se garantiza la libertad de ideología y el veinte la libertad de expresión. Sin embargo, Ruiz-Gallardón veta a Rubianes. No lo entiendo.

Hace muchos años, el actor gallego, vino a mi pueblo a hacer un espectáculo. Apenas me reí. No me gusta su humor ni su manera de hacerlo. Cuando salió en "El Club", el programa de TV3 en el que expresó su opinión acerca de la unidad de España, le vi en directo. No me gustaron sus palabras, porque eran feas. Estoy de acuerdo con él en lo que respecta a esta unidad de España de la que tanto les gusta hablar y tanto les gusta decir que se ha roto por culpa de los catalanes. Sin embargo, estoy de acuerdo que esa no era manera de decirlo. Pero tampoco creo que vetarlo hará que la situación mejore. Sí, esto hace apaciguar los que se quejan (que son la minoría, gracias a dios). Pero, ¿durante cuanto tiempo puedes hacer que un artista que le gusta a tanta gente y que ha trabajado tanto en este país, no trabaje? Y lo que es peor, como alcalde de una ciudad tan grande como Madrid, Sr. Ruiz-Gallardón, en la que residen gentes de todas las nacionalidades y partes de España y, por supuesto, de todas las ideologías, ¿con qué derecho elige una opción como la válida y no las demás? Es decir, ¿por qué no ha hecho callar a todos los que se quejan y envían amenazas en vez de darle un portazo a alguien que sólo ha expresado su opinión?
Es anticonstitucional vetar a Rubianes por expresar su opinión, está claro, ¿no?
Pero, ¿va contra la ley lo que hizo? No lo creo, sino ya le hubieran multado o lo que fuera. Además, hubieran multado también a TVC, y demás.
Sé que quemar una rojigualda es ilegal. Lo sé porqué en mi pueblo hay un tipo que fue a la cárcel por ello. Sin embargo, ¿qué pasa con las palabras de Rubianes? Si no son ilegales (¿alguien lo sabe?) y si están de acuerdo con la constitución (ya que es su ideología y su expresión), ¿por qué no denuncian a Ruiz-Gallardón al Tribunal Constitucional?

No lo entiendo y me parece muy fuerte toda esta situación. Por cosas como estas es cuando a mí, que no soy separatista, me entran ganas de separarme.

Imagen extraída de aquí.

Hoy

Gracias, Mecano.



Mecano – "El 7 de septiembre" – Aidalai

Day one

So I have finally finished the course. Yesterday I took the last of the possible exams of this year. So, now I am done.

Something interesting happened in the exam: when waiting to go in, I looked a guy who was standing a couple of meters from me. He was really handsome but he had a prayer beads around his neck. Perhaps it was to bring him luck. Or, perhaps, he memorized his text book like a prayer. So, I was looking at him, and he was looking at me. He must not have been from the island because he seemed to have the same problem I had in June, with the system. So, when he came into the room I was already sitting and he looked at me when he passed by. He finished before than me and, when he left, he looked at me, turning back when he was at the door. I thought when I would finish I would find him there, waiting. But, nah... nothing. Pity, because it would have proven movies right.

To celebrate, my brother and I were supposed to go out but things became weird. A cousin of ours is in the island and we were going to meet, but he called to cancel. Also, my all-times best (girl)friend is here with her partner and her child. We had arranged to meet to go out (she hasn't gone out since she got pregnant, so it was quite a thing) but I was going to cancel for the cousin thing, because my brother had arranged already, but, then, when he canceled, we decided to meet in the end. So, they went to Pachá to had dinner and they were going to stay there for dancing. So we went. Was fantastic, because we were in the list. Ha! Great. I felt like Carrie Bradshaw! Also, I was wearing my Ted Bakers, my favourite shoes. Although, it wasn't the first time I was on a list, this time it felt great.
So, we were chatting and dancing all night and we had so much fun. The only problem is that there was way too many people. Many of them English. And they were rude. They thought that they owned the place. Even one guy, fat guy, was so rude to me making like he wasn't hearing me when I was telling him very kindly "Excuse me, can I pass through?". After a couple of times, he looked at me and pointed at the next person, different direction of where I was going. So I had to make myself space to pass. At the moment, there were few women making and spectacle and they were very pretty: I bet the stupid fat rude English prick was looking at them as he has never had the opportunity to see one naked woman in real life. Listen, dude, I have! You loser!
Oh, god! Those people get on my nerves. Not the English people, I mean the rude people who think they are better than anyone. Only one guy said "sorry" to me. Yeah, he was British, but, hey, he was Indian or Pakistani descendant.
Drunken and drugged idiots. Lots of ladies who thought they looked pretty and they just looked like hookers. Lots of stupid Italian "children" with sunglasses. A guy threw up in front of me. Then, we moved, and we were just there quietly and a girl made us move because her friend who had a broken leg and was on a wheelchair, wanted to be where we were. So, they pushed. Then, a friend of her, who was old and ugly, was pushing me around. I hated that. But at least, one of the friends of the stupid-I-bet-she-broke-her-leg-behaving-like-a-child-just-because-she-was-in-Sunny-Spain girl, was real hot. And, from time to time, he was using his t-shirt to wipe his face and I could see his six-packer. Though, he was not the kind of guy I like. At all. He seemed from a Bel Ami movie (never seen one, actually), but, for some reason, I thought he was so good looking. He looked at me, but I don't think he was ready to get out of the closet, yet. Cuz he was so gay.

Anyway, so I have finished in this island. Next Wednesday I am flying to Barcelona. Then, I'll be preparing my move. Will see what happens.

Najwa Nimri – "So Often" – "Walkabout"

Today is so boring
It's gonna start today
So often

I'm gonna change my ways
So often
(...)

Image taken from here.

"Do you feel guilty for being so good looking?" 2a parte

Se me olvidó comentar el hecho absurdo que parece que la belleza realmente importa más a los hombres que a las mujeres. O al menos a los productores de televisión. ¿No os habéis fijado que las chicas de las series son, por lo general, más guapas que los hombres (son guapos)? Fijaros en Friends, por ejemplo, Chandler está claro que guapo no es, pero tampoco va de ello. Ross, pse... va a gustos, pero no es un adonis, eso está claro. Y Joey, de verdad, ¿a quién le parece guapo? Hay un montón de escenas en que hablan de su culo y, por el amor de Dios [i.e. Madonna], es grande y feo. Además, no le he visto sin camiseta, pero parece fofo. Y que nariz más fea, y eso que a mí me gustan los narizotas.
El otro día vi "Anita no perd el tren" ("Anita no pierde el tren"), que la daban en la 2 y Rosa Maria Sardà hizo un comentario del culo de Coronado. Me pregunto, el guionista, ¿ya sabía que iba a ser él quien iba a interpretar el personaje? Porque se equivocó de pleno.
Bueno, esto es todo.

"Do you feel guilty for being so good looking?"

Vale, ya está bien de tanta película. Sólo voy a decir que el título del post es una cita de la que vi ayer: "Latter Days". Bueno, diré que me gustó y que incluso lloré. [Hacía tanto que necesitaba llorar...]

De lo que hoy quiero hablar es de la belleza. Hoy lo he dicho pero lo he dicho tantas veces, que me debería cansar, pero no es así. Son esas pequeñas chispas de sabiduría que todos tenemos (qué vanidoso ha sonado esto) y que nos gusta compartir.
Todos conocemos la frase hecha "Todo depende del color del cristal con que lo miras", ¿verdad? ... Tomo eso como un sí. Pero es que yo siempre he dicho que la sabiduría popular es la más sabia de todas. A cualquier duda, miramos el refranero y encontraremos la solución (esto ha sido un poco exagerado: a bastantes dudas). Lo cierto es que todo cambia, todo evoluciona, e incluso los refranes. Recuerdo cuando llevé a mi gata por primera vez al veterinario y, a una distancia de dos metro dijo: "¡Uy, qué gata más bonita!" La verdad es que es adorable, pero yo me quedé con la duda de cómo lo había sabido de un vistazo (la llevaba en brazos, así que no podía ver si tenía ubres). Le pregunté y me contó que la expresión "Buscarle los tres pies al gato" era incorrecta y que en vez de pies, le deberíamos buscar los pelos. Buscarle tres pies a un gato es fácil: tiene cuatro, pero pelos... Sí, me diréis, tiene millones. Pero se refiere a los colores. Un gato macho no puede tener tres colores de pelos. Dos sí, cuatro también, pero tres sólo las hembras. Me dijo.
Con lo del cristal creo que se puede entender de dos maneras. La primera es obvia: el vaso lleno o vacío. La segunda, que es la que me interesa hoy, es de el cristal refiriéndose a los ojos de uno. ¡Cuántas veces no nos habrá pasado que le hemos dicho a nuestra amiga querida: "¡Valla bollicao acaba de entrar por la puerta!" No, yo tampoco; nunca usaría una expresión así. Yo soy más de "Oh, aquél chico tiene un Dostoyevski en las manos, parece un chico interesante, voy a hablar con él y debatir sobre la situación de Rusia en la actualidad..." (Yeah, right!) Bueno, el caso es que entra un chico guapo y yo se lo comento a mi amiga y ella dice: "¿Ese? ¡Vamos, hombre!" ¿Me seguís? A ella no le gusta el chico que yo encuentro tan guapo. ¿Por qué? ¿Es que de frente es guapo pero de perfil no? No, simplemente ella tiene diferente gusto.
Esto me lleva a pensar en lo del cristal. Y en otras expresiones como "Tú, que me ves con buenos ojos" o "La belleza está en el interior". ¡Mentira! La belleza está en el exterior. Pero super exterior, super fuera. Tan fuera que no está en ti: está en la otra persona. En los ojos de la otra persona (o mejor dicho en el cerebro). Además va a modas. Antes eran los tipos como John Wayne o como dirían nuestros padres "yon baine". Pasaron los años, gracias a Dios [es decir, gracias a Madonna] y se pusieron de moda los chicos como Brad Pitt en "Thelma & Louise". Luego no sé qué pasó, que las chicas se volvieron locas y les empezó a gustar tipos como el DiCaprio. ¡Egh! Nunca lo entendí. Lo peor es que esto ha seguido y ha invadido otros ámbitos como el de la música. En 2002 Gareth Gates queda segundo en el programa británico Pop Idol. En 2005 Sergio Rivero gana Operación Truño. ¿Parecidos razonables?
Bueno, dejemos esto.
El caso es que está claro que la belleza no es algo permanente. Es algo que va y que viene. Rubens pensaba que la belleza de una mujer era algo totalmente diferente a lo que se piensa hoy en día. O al menos hace unos años (¿todavía se llevan las mujeres esqueléticas?). Así que a lo mejor todos esos chicos que se matan en el gimnasio se encontrarán llenos de músculos de aquí a unos años y el estilo niño figa flor (¿mosquita muerta?) será lo que se llevará. Bueno, los tíos que se jodan (yo no me preocupo mucho), las mujeres a descansar.
Todo esto viene a que últimamente he recibido unos cuantos cumplidos, piropos. Thank you guys! Sobretodo a raíz de las fotos con Super-SuperSonicGirl cuando nos encontramos en esta isla.
La verdad es que hacía un tiempito que tenía un poco de complejo de feucho. Supongo que por estar rodeado de chicos guapos descamisados. [Momento Homer Simpson diciendo "Chocolaaaateee".] No es que ahora me considere un Sex Simbol, ni mucho menos. Sólo me siento mejor.
Creo que es sólo eso. Cuando te sientes bien contigo mismo la gente lo nota.
Yo seguiré confiando en lo de la inteligencia que al menos me va a durar más que la belleza. (Espero nunca tener Anzheimer.)
Y ahora me voy a dormir de inmediato que mañana me levanto pronto para hacer un examen. Hacer... suspender... ¿Inteligencia? Mañana me voy al gimnasio en vez.

Escuchando: Anna Maria Jopek, album: "Niebo"

Imagen modificada del original.

"I am a headliner!"

When I was a child, like any other kid, I would wake up early on Sunday morning. When I say early I mean like at 7am.

Today, you turn on your TV at this time, when the Sun hasn't come up yet, and you can see a whole variety of children programs. When I was a kiddo it wasn't like that. For start, we only had three channels (first and second channel of TVE, i.e. TVE1 and TVE2 and the first channel of TVC, i.e. TV3). And the children programming wasn't good yet –we hadn't started to trust in the nanny Mrs Telly. So, I would wake up and play videos of Asterix or whatever we got. When I got bored of them, I played all the videos we had. "Pretty Woman", "Sister Act" and the second part (the title of this post is a quote of this film). And my favourites were: "Grease" and "Clash of the Titans". I saw the Travolta movie a couple of years ago and I was surprised that the movie had turned into a whole different thing over the years: now I understand the hidden and not so hidden jokes, like when I think Stockard Channing and that guy with the holes in the face were making out in the car, since I had a very bad copy, that scene was very dark and with noise so I thought it was starting to rain when they were talking about 'plastic' but they were really talking about condoms. "Clash of the Titans" is a real classic (with also Maggie Smith, as in the "Sister Act"'s).
Well, then I grew up a bit more: we had more channels out of a sudden. Up to seven! Imagine, now we complain with our only 20 channels in the DTTV, and back then we weren't complaining. The thing is, back then, there was no other thing. Now we have Cable and Satellite TV as well (you can't envy what you don't know).
Also, we had a sudden grow of Video Rentals in my town. As well of a population grow. There was a family who moved to my town when I was a teenager that had the same surname as mine and one of the daughters was called like my younger sister (although, she is older than me). And they would mess up in the Video Rentals (no cards with magnetic bands or micro-chips back then!) and they would tell us that we had whatever movie at home and we hadn't rent it. So, one day, my sister rented "Reality Bites" and forgot to give it back. So, when I went to the Rental again, I just said that it wasn't us who had rented it. And it worked. The movie is still at my mom's, I guess.
So we watched it over and over. I could tell the lines as if it was my lessons. I would quote it all the time, I would cover my school folder with pictures of it (we already had Internet, though) and quotes. Imagine, such a freak. That's why I wasn't getting late, LOL!
I like to watch the movies I have seen and liked long time ago because I find totally different things then. And I really like to watch them now in English, if they are in that language original. But I was very over RB, actually. I really don't know how many times I watched it but, hey, way too many. Also, when I got growing up I realised that I was no part of that X Generation it is supposed to be about. Perhaps, being born in 1981 was too late to participate. Though, I don't even think I belong to any of the Generations that have come along after the X. So, that's a movie I didn't really thought of watching again. Not like "To Be or Not to Be" which I saw last month and I loved it more than when I watched it when I was in High School. There are many movies I have watched again lately, but I can't recall. Oh, yeah, "The Cook the Thief His Wife & Her Lover", for instance. Or "Mary Poppins" or "Bedknobs and Broomsticks".
Ok, so earlier this month I was in my town for a sort of High School reunion (ah, I had seen again "Romy and Michelle" couple of weeks before, also with Jeanine Garofalo). It wasn't really a High School because it was of the people born in 1981. So, when they sent me the kind of invitation, they attached one of those SPAM letters that goes around the Internet. The letter was about watching back to our childhood and see how different is everything now. One of the things it says is something about "Reality Bites" like that we know we have changed when we watch it again and we do not like it anymore. Then I got a fly on my nose.
BTW, I have forgotten to say that I have the Soundtrack of the movie and I love it. Especially Stay by Lisa Loeb. Also, my sister and our friends liked the movie as well and we all had the songs and we would sing them all along.
A couple of weeks ago, I was on the computer and my brother was watching telly and suddenly I heard something familiar. It was the first notes of "I'm Nuthin'" played by Ethan Hawke in the movie and I recognised it. So I went to the living room and my brother had already changed channel and I asked him to go back to check which channel it was (because on the sort of satellite TV we had they repeat films and programs all the time): it was Cosmopolitan TV but I checked it out and they weren't showing it again.
So I had the bugger to watch it again so I did today. Also, now, I watched it in English and it came along with a whole new perspective, obviously.
The thing that surprised me the most was when Lelaina says "I was really going to be somebody by the time I was 23" which is funny: I had never expected to be a somebody at that age; perhaps 30 or 40, but absolutely not 23, in any case, I am running late.
I liked it. It brought me a lot of memories and gave me an optimistic push. Now my quotes can be in English:

"Would the two of you just do it and get it over with? I'm starving!"

"So I take pleasure in the details. (...) the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle..."

Oh, and I loved to hear in English this:

"Conjunction Junction, what's your function?
Hooking up words and phrases and clauses."
[Source]

I'll will still keep the OST on my iPod and I will sing-along all those songs that bring me back to when I was a teenager.
God bless Digital broadcasting, DVDs, the Internet (especially the IMDb) and the Wikipedia), the iPod and all those small things that I really like (small because they are not the wheel of my life, but bits that make me happy).

Sorry if this post sounds repetitive and weird; it is after 3am. In four hours I have to wake up to watch cartoons.

Stay – Lisa Loeb
(Lyrics below)

You say I only hear what I want to.

You say I talk so all the time so.
And I thought what I felt was simple,
and I thought that I don't belong,
and now that I am leaving,
now I know that I did something wrong 'cause I missed you.
Yeah yeah, I missed you.
And you say I only hear what I want to:
I don't listen hard,
don't pay attention to the distance that you're running
to anyone, anywhere,
I don't understand if you really care,
I'm only hearing negative: no, no, no.
So I turned the radio on, I turned the radio up, and this woman was singing my song: lover's in love, and the other's run away, lover is crying 'cause the other won't stay.
Some of us hover when we weep for the other who was
dying since the day they were born.
Well, well, this is not that;
I think that I'm throwing, but I'm thrown.
And I thought I'd live forever, but now I'm not so sure.
You try to tell me that I'm clever,
but that won't take me anyhow, or anywhere with you.
You said that I was naive, and I thought that I was strong. I thought, "hey, I can leave, I can leave." Oh, but now I know that I was wrong, 'cause I missed you. Yeah, I miss you.
You said, "I caught you 'cause I want you and one day I'll let you go."
You try to give away a keeper, or keep me 'cause you know you're just
scared to lose.
And you say, "Stay."
And you say I only hear what I want to.

[Update]: Aparently the image that I added on the top was removed from server or forbidden the usage, because I can't see it with Firefox but I can with IE as I hadn't used it to watch that image. So, I got an unpleasant image instead in horrible German language. Also, I've seen that I've lost some images on previous posts. I was just adding them from its original location to: 1. avoid having to save it and upload it and so on; 2. maintain the ownership. But, since I have just got pissed off... I will just dow it on my own.
Well, so image on the top originally from here and the poster from here.
On top of it, you have to be a bloody Yahoo! user to use Flikr (although, it is fine that you have to be a GMail user tu get a Blogger account, but Google is best), and my ID is unavailable! What the hell! I'm upset and it is too early in the morning.