Tuesday, January 31, 2006

On Wealth and R-ships (2)

Upon further discussion with the mirror and some post-examination of the previous post, I decided to ask some question here and there (aka around the water cooler) in order to get some new ideas and perhaps some insight on the issue at hand.

While at it, I ran into Tamara (Tammy) a Lady that works in the same floor that I do and with whom I'd exchange greetings. I overheard few days ago that her son just got married to a girl from South America and I decided to ask her how things are working out [non of my business, but if you ask nicely, you may get a positive answer]. And in this case her answerS, because I asked her a lot of questions, made me take this little exercise one step further and try to turn the tables on my whole theory. Instead of thinking and theorizing about how a relationship with an "uptown girl" could be, how about if I put myself on the side of the "uptown boy". I wonder why I didn't think about this before, because in all honesty, is there anything not to LOVE about me? hahaha *wink*wink*

Anyway, back to earth. Tammy is a lady with three kids and [are you ready for this?] SEVEN grandchildren! When she saw me rising my eyebrows she said "and no, I didn't marry when I was fifteen!". I told her that she then married when she was twelve! She looks like if she was in her early forties, and for a woman with three kids and SEVEN grandchildren, she looks very good. I didn't ask her her age, but I deduced she must be around 50.

The story of her life is very simple: grew up in north eastern Minnesota, where according to her there's only two seasons "cold and very cold". She got married right after finishing high school and started college, but after her first semester got pregnant and had to drop out. Then, the other children came and she had to start working because one breadwinner wasn't enough in her household. Years later she went back to college but that very same year her son had an accident and had to be in rehabilitation for almost a year, so she drop out again in order to take care of him. After thirty years, she's now back in school and if I understood well she's working on her CMC degree.

So my informal interview with her had me thinking about my previous post. I'm gona try to write a very concise set of ideas because today is Live Music Tuesday! and I'm already late. Now, all the theory in my previous post sound very good, and based on other posts is crystal clear that I know what I'm looking for in a girl, but there's nothing like having a sea of theory in place to get a little drop of reality in order to transform it into a dessert [aka eat your own words one by one]. The truth about relationships is that you hook up with whoever you feel comfortable and happy with. Period. There's no more to it.

So how about if I find a girl that I really like but that doesn't fulfill all that fancy prose about a girl born into a wealthy family and the education and the travels and blah blah blah. Let's take Tammy thirty years ago as an example, and this is just for the purpose of the theory. She's a girl with not much education and travel wise I'd say she didn't venture further than Minneapolis, maybe Chicago in a school trip but that's it. Would I have a problem accepting her in the case that she sees me like an "uptown boy". How about if she comes up with the very same theory that I wrote in my previous post saying that she may not be good enough for me.

I'll tell her that she's out of her mind right away. And dump her immediately for having such a stupid idea! That laundry list of the girl that I would like, is more a list of "pluses" [+++] rather than a list of basic things that have to be fulfilled. As mentioned before, the basic thing is to like someone, the rest can be worked out [and I can always show her not just the world, but the whole frikking universe!!].

All right. Tonight is Live Music Tuesday and I'm already late for it. So enough of this topic. Hmmmm maybe I could try to find a country girl at the bar who drives a Camaro and her hair style could be described as "mullet" in order to test all these theories. I mean, just for the sake of Scientific Research of course. . .

Monday, January 30, 2006

On Wealth and R-ships

First of all, an idea coated with a nice icing of reality: people I hang out with these days are anything but bright. Ugh, that sounded horrible, I called my friends "idiots" in the most subtle way I could. But reality has t-boned every single expectation I've had on them, so what a better place to go and rant than to my blog.

I'll pay your mortgage... you just sit hereLast weekend I saw a group of people (friends if you prefer) and among them was a girl that I also know and who's good friends of one of my "friends". Just an annoying girl. We were talking about nothing in particular and I don't know when that girl said that she wanted to marry a rich guy. This post is about what happened from then on.

The conversation revolved around that topic for a while and of course we all had fun with it. Everybody came up with a different scenario and his/her own ideas, and even one of my friends said that he didn't matter becoming a "soccer dad". It was actually very funny. And even though it was a Friday night conversation, the truth of the matter is that when everybody around me starts agreeing on certain topic, or a discussion ends up with everybody nodding and repeating each other's words, an uneasy feeling sets on me. I begin to think that we aren't looking at it from a different perspective, or that we're just missing the big picture, or that our discussion/conversation is so trivial and shallow that is just hard not to agree upon it. So when that happens, I stir the pot.

I tried to challenge them to really think what would life be with an "uptown girl", to use Billy Joel's song. I wanted them to really get out of all those clichés and think what does it really mean to hook up with a very wealthy girl. I can perfectly understand anyone nodding to the idea of finding a "rich someone", specially people from South America, because every single novela down there tells the same story: rich boy falls for the poor girl and after some struggle where the evil mother in law gets involved, they live happily ever after.

But here, in the real world, could things be like that? I tried to make them put their feet on the ground and discuss the plausibility of that idea and what benefits/disadvantages it could bring to one's life. I know the whole conversation started as a joke, but how about having a fun and an interesting conversation at the same time?

Bad idea. The annoying gal called me "smart ass" when I laid out my point of view and started asking people's take on the whole issue. Her idea was pretty much to get down with whoever had enough cash in his bank account that could allow her to leave her day job and start rising babies. She repeated that very same idea in different ways but she couldn't (or didn't want to) picture herself in that parallel universe. And neither anyone around; they just kept repeating clichés and stories taken straight out from one of the million novelas shown down there.

Throughout the weekend I gave it a thought, and the following trend of ideas were the loudest in my head. Before venturing any further, and as this is an exercise, I'll try to put some limits and draw some lines on this issue.

I'm going to identify two types of wealth here: inherited and self made.

Self made is (duh) self explanatory: regardless of your background you've worked hard to get your own money. This could be a fascinating topic, but I'm not gona talk about this category in this particular post: it entitles making too many assumptions and to take too many things for granted. I'm gona focus on inherited wealth (aka being born and raised into a rich family).

When I say NOW I mean NOW!!!
Wealth is such an irresistible magnet that it attracts everything in sight. The idea of finding someone you really care for and that on top of that has plenty of cash is a nobel idea (I should've said that that person comes on top of a pile of cash better).
Wealth entitles access to many products and services that other people cannot afford: good nutrition from early childhood, good schools, peaceful neighborhood and a clean and save environment would lead a healthy kid to grow happy and confident. Excess of cash can help get tutors to excel in school and to have time to enjoy activities and sports that could create new interests and affinities. Wealth may allow travel, within and outside the country, being exposed to other cultures, places, and faces, languages and situations that could help that child become a very interesting and educated human being. Wealth also entitles access to country clubs, gyms, beauty salons and plastic surgeons that could make anyone look easy to the eyes.

So inherited wealth could translate into someone who's interesting, has a great personality, good education and good looks. Frikking Wonder Woman in other words! Now, all that wealth doesn't mean that you're attracted to the mutual funds and properties and fast cars her family might posses, but that you're attracted to the person regardless of her bank account statement. Good, up till here, all is roses and smiles and the theory as flown very easy.

Enter reality: what's the use of a wife from a wealthy family? Put aside how wonderful Wonder Woman is when the two of you are alone. What benefits and what kind of happiness could an "uptown girl" bring into your life; happiness related to money. The most logic answer would be that your in laws could help you with the down payment of a house, or perhaps they'll provide the whole house. And in those very same lines, they could hook you up with some toys for the house (plasma TV, new car, etc.). A wealthy wife could have a house on the beach where the newlyweds can go whenever they want; awesome. And let's see what else. . . she may come together with a membership to the country club. So to put it in more theoretical words, a wealthy wife could grant you access to more and better products and services that you've previously had. And the wonderful people that comes with it.

Undoubtedly it will be pretty cool not to have to pay a 30-year mortgage, but everything in life comes with a price tag [everything but true love/friendship that is]. And the price of having a lot of stuff sooner in life, thanks to the wife's family's wealth, looks very high to me. I'd have trouble accepting such amount of money from my in laws. I've always felt that wealth is such an irresistible magnet that people can end up owning you, without you realizing it. I'd feel that if someone pays my mortgage, I'd be obliged to please them in whatever they demand from me -some restrictions apply of course. And even more so, if you depend financially on someone or at least partially, there's a big cloud hanging over one's head day and night, a big Damocles sword. Is it maybe pride from my part? Perhaps, but I just don't like to have to owe something to someone. As I said, I hate feeling obliged to have to please someone [hugh]. And I also think that you have to live within the limits of your income, getting your very own stuff little by little and when the opportunity arises. To live beyond one's own income and credit opportunities is end up pretending you're someone else.

When you get into a serious relationship, and I mean serious beyond my previous relationships, and you think about getting married [gasp!] and perhaps starting a family [double gasp!!] and so on and so forth, you bring into your new nuclear family whatever surplus or deficit there's in all your bank accounts. And putting aside a prenuptial agreement (which I think is sick) the good old saying of "mine is yours and yours is mine" fully applies.

Ok, very interesting topic and there's many more thing hanging around it that I'd like to include, and perhaps a couple of things to dig deeper, but I'll try to give them a second thought and include them in some later post. Eventually, of course.

One last thought on this whole issue is that based on her looks and her personality, that annoying girl from last Friday's is set for a big disappointment in this life.

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Strange, isn't it?

If you ask for my opinion, I'd say I'm the one and only.
Or better yet, I'd say that I'm by far the best.
Maybe I was not the first, and for sure I'll not be the last, but certainly I'm The One.
Anyway I'll prefer to let y'all check out for yourselves and come up with your own conclusions.
Please take your time to check out these links. Please.
Like minds think look alike? my ass!

Friday, January 27, 2006

On Liver and other Demon

There's many things that I don't like about life in general, and daily life in particular. But I'm not very font of listing stuff, so that will have to wait for some other time.

Having said that though, I can point out two things that I don't just dislike, put plainly make my blood boil.

One of them is liver. I could eat a piece of cardboard box if it sits on a plate and I'm hungry; and I could even eat anything that has four legs in this planet excluding chairs and tables; but it's just impossible for me to stick a piece of liver in my mouth, chew it and swallow it. The only thought of its texture in my mouth makes me cringe, and even though I once tried to eat it like if it was an aspirin (put it in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water), it didn't work.

So liver itself I dislike it; what makes my blood boil about it, is people that after having been told in a very polite way about my little appreciation for liver, still have the short-circuited balls to say that I should try it because it was cooked with _____ (fill in the blank with whatever product you want) so that I should like it. Is like people sometimes think that just because they cooked, then it tastes delicious.

The good side of this, is that that poison is not a very popular meal and is not served very often. And as a matter of fact I can't remember the last time I was face to face with a fillet of that stuff, but I still keep on my mind a couple of previous encounters with such a devilish meal.

But in any case I wasn't planning in talking about liver tonight. . . I just got carried away. What I want to do is to link this very little story that appeared on the BBC about the other thing that I hate with my body, soul, brain and heart: fucking cigarettes!

California has classified second-hand tobacco smoke as a toxic air pollutant, putting it in the same category as diesel exhaust. It will eventually lead to tougher regulations.

You just gotta love California.

On the other side of the country, on the South Eastern, and more particularly in good-old North Carolina, lawmakers are still holding the line allowing people to smoke everywhere they feel like doing it (some restrictions apply of course, but those restrictions are thanks to Federal Regulations than to our very own lawmakers). Last year someone proposed to ban smoking in bars and clubs, and people here (even non-smokers!!!) said that it was gona bankrupt every single restaurant and club in town and that it was just impossible to enforce it, and that it will end up hurting the economy.

Well they were right, but they pointed their arguments to the wrong industry. They should've said that it will hurt HOSPITALS and the whole Health Care industry instead of burger joints, sleazy salsa dancing discotecas and upscale pubs (that is called The Hospitality Industry, but in this geographic area of the country is anything but hospital to non-smokers, and could even send you to the hospital! All puns intended here).

As one of my professors in college told me: "el subdesarrollo es una condición mental", and no wonder why everybody looks and talks about the South as being populated by fucking primates.

Monday, January 23, 2006

Sweat Baby Sweat

Better to go to bed NOW. Tomorrow morning I have an appointment with my very own personal instructor.

And it's a girl. Hmmm wonder if she looks like Denise Austin.

Good morning Jean-Fran... ready for some action?

Let me spell it for you: G H E T T O

I'd noticed it lately, but this last weekend it became way too evident to try to pretend that it is otherwise. And I can even afirm that it's now official across the Carolinas, Continental United States and the world!

I live in a Ghetto.


What is a Ghetto mama?
Yes, my apartment complex that used to look and feel and smell like a nice place for people to live in peace and quite (minus a foreigner cranking up his stereo once in a while), has turned into a cross between a ghetto and a slump. And by Ghetto I don't mean the very elegant definition that refers to an area where people from a specific ethnic background, or united in a given culture or religion live as a group, voluntarily or involuntarily, in milder or stricter seclusion. Hell no, I only wish!

Ghetto as place where there's tires burning on the evening and kids with tattoos all over their chest, back and arms rule the parking lots; a place where once the sun starts to set you are not threat with a knife for your wallet, but they actually get a kidney out of you right there; walls are covered with graffiti, police is afraid to enter unless they are just following those overcaffeinated SAWT team killers; a place where girls who should be either in college or high school wear lingerie and wait for you in the corner promising to show you what heaven is all about; a place where meth labs are regularly busted and people end up leaving in handcuffs never to be seen again; and a place where there's shootings.
Yeah, people shooting at other people.

My landlord (L) called me over the weekend and the conversation went pretty much like this:
Me: Hellop?
L: Are you fucking out of your mind dude?
Me: What you talking about?
L: I told you not to shoot people man!
Me: WTF?
L: You should leave the country. Police know it was you
Me: Are you smocking crack?
L: Don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about.
Me: You should not smoke crack besides ____ (his three month old son's name). I've heard that shit is bad for a baby.
L: Don't you know about the shooting?
Me: Listen motherfucker, I'm busy. Go bother someone else.
L: There was a fucking shooting at the apartment complex!

You either pass me that Budweiser or else, honey
And at the apartment complex, a shooting took place indeed. Rumor has it that two rednecks were drinking beer one afternoon and a brawl erupted over who was gona drink the last Budweiser in the 36-can pack. The argument was followed by mean looks, strong words and punches thrown in each direction. One of them decided to take it to the next level and rushed to his pick up truck to get his riffle (the same weapon he used during one deer hunting season to kill Bambi's mom). The other redneck sprinted to his Camaro and extracted a 9mm from the glove compartment.

No none knows who shoot first and who shoot last, but the truth of the matter is that they both shoot as straight as Mr & Mrs. Smith did while trying -and failing- to kill each other in their own living room. Once they run out of ammo, it still remains a mystery up to this day where all those bullets landed. Both cars weren't hit, even though each one was ducking behind his own, and neither the two story town houses in the back showed any perforations. Talk about shooting straight and those two motherfuckers.

Another neighbor who heard the gunshots, got his own pistol from under a pillow and sweared to God to put a piece of plumb between the eyes of whoever walked through the front door of his apartment. And again, following the best style of Mr&Mrs. Smith, he missed his wife who happened to come back home from the grocery store. The local rag reported that she took away his pistol, together with his privileges -no further comments on the subject matter were available.

I told my landlord that I want to renegotiate my rent, because this stuff ain't what he promised me. He mention something about the fine print, but I refreshed his memory saying that there's no contract between us other than a handshake; and a tennis game as a way to settle any dispute that may arise in our condo-wise relationship.

So we're heading to the tennis court this weekend. Hopefully a brawl wouldn't erupt between us so that we won't end up on the front page of our local rag under "The Ghetto Heats Up"!

Sunday, January 22, 2006

I'm Cheap

But not "cheap" in the sense that this term is usually used: someone who's ungenerously or pettily reluctant to spend money.

I'm cheap in the sense that it doesn't take much to make me a happy man. You don't need a freight train filled with gold and Coppertone models all tied up in a red ribbon and delivered to my front door to bring a smile to my face; nor need to give me an envelope containing a round trip ticket to the International Space Station to make my heart rate rise. Small things make me happier.

Take for instance an e-mail with a poem attached to it. And not all those poems that I get in the junk folder of my e-mail account from all those spammers that love me oh! so much. But an e-mail sent by someone that I consider special.

As I said, it just takes a little to make me very.

Yeah, I'm cheap.

Friday, January 20, 2006

On Meetings and Monkeys

I was talking to RM, one of my co-workers in a side room when AC walked in. She looked at us and asked if we thought that she'd gained weight lately. Just like that, no introduction, no preamble, no nothing; she just wanted to know if we thought she'd gained weight lately. My instant reply to her was "I think you look fine". (AC will turn forty this year and has had four children, being the youngest around two years old and the oldest seventeen. So for a woman with that background, she looks fine.)

I asked why she was asking such question, knowing that she's very concern about her figure, and knowing very well that if I could keep saying that she looks fine, she would end up feeling fine. I just thought that was one of those days for her and that she was just feeling down. Even though I understood her words when she answered my question, I really didn't get it and had to ask her to repeat it again.

Our boss had asked her to attend a meeting earlier today, but throw the following comment on her lap as she was about to enter the little meeting room: "I should've asked Jean-Francois to attend this meeting, because he's Mr. Skinny".

Are you maybe thinking WTF? Well, WTF was what I thought. If it was a joke I didn't get it; if it was some sort of sarcasm, I was definitely too slow to catch it; and if it was something I should've known, I certainly didn't know it. She left the side room where RM and I were talking and we both just looked to each other like WTF. Yeah, RM didn't understand that comment either.

Right after that I went to collect a document and came back five minutes later to follow on my conversation with RM. Before entering the side room I stopped by the small conference room where AC was at and took a look inside. The place was packed beyond imagination; that little conference room that could sit a handful of people had perhaps three times that amount. I would even venture to say that Oxygen wise that thing wasn't healthy at all. I even noticed someone hanging from the lamp [and swinging] because I do work with and for monkeys after all!

For a moment I considered that my boss had thought that I was the most prepared hommo sapiens among the bunch to sit in that meeting; I thought that maybe he said that as a way to say that I could do a good job while joining all that people in the little meeting room. But I seriously never thought that my thin and athletic figure was gona attract his attention under the rationalization that I would be able to squeeze and sit my ass easier among that maze of people than any of my other [wide ass] co-workers.

It was a joke of course, but that joke was told in front of the only one he should've not told it. If you're gona use the word "weight" with a girl it should be only to say something on the lines of "have you lost weight?", which for a girl it means "you look nice". (I actually know of one girl who might like it if that word is used in the other direction. Hmm, maybe I should try that approach with her.) Sometimes I really wonder at what point in time the monkeys started running the zoo located on my floor. I'm fully aware that I'm doing over time there, not that I'm working over time, but as my time is over at that zoo, I've just been working over time. Like in fútbol: when the time is over, you go into over time.

But I'm a man with a plan, and the sun of my time there may be setting. Or maybe it set long ago and what follows this long night is dawn. The next weeks will tell how right I am.

But keep it in mind: I'm a man with a plant.


Yeah, a man with a plant

Thursday, January 19, 2006

[WAVES]

I've set my alarm clock early tomorrow morning. Very early, if you allow me to elaborate a bit more. Earlier than I usually wake up on a work day; and perhaps close to the hour that I come back home on weekends. My alarm clock will go off so fucking early that it's more accurate to say that I'll be waking up "tonight" than in the "morning".

It'll be dark but not cold, because it never gets cold here in the South [ok, everybody at the same time: awwwwww]. Dark and a bit chilly, maybe a bit chilly; but certainly dark. I like when is dark and cold and empty, when the streets are empty. If the road ahead shows signs of an early light rain, the reflection of the traffic lights on the wet pavement awakes a sense of mystery on the city.

In few hours I'll be hitting the waves. Let's see how my body reacts to the treadmill that early.

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Monkey See, Monkey Do

My subscription to the new gym comes with a complimentary session with a personal trainer, which I had today. After filling some forms and answering some basic questions about my health, I walked into my personal trainer's office and we started doing a little talk. He wasn't just filled with muscles, but also plenty of smiles.

Yeah, that's me
He read my answers and proceeded with a little motivational speech about how working out would increase one's level of energy together with a healthy diet and so on and so forth. He then asked me what was my motivation for coming to the gym: "pussy" was my instant reply, which he wrote down. Then he asked what my goals were, and my reply came as an instinct: "Pussy", and again he wrote it down. He prompted me to think what good things could the gym bring into my life: "pussy" (that was an easy one), a word that he wrote down with only one "s". Finally he asked me what do I wanted to get out of the whole gym experience, and before I could answer I saw with the corner of my eye that he was writing down "pussy", so I twisted my answer to say "a hell of a lot of pussy man!". We both burst in laughs. He then leaned towards me while looking over his shoulder, lowered his voice, and told me that this whole "personal trainer" bullshit was just that, bullshit. He runs a "little operation" with very beautiful and very discrete ladies which refer to him as the "Master Pimp" and that he was gona make sure all those answers will come true. . .

So what really happened was that after answering those silly questions I walked into his office and then the motivational speech came and blah blah blah. He said that before we started he wanted to measure my body fat and body mass index (BMI). He handed me a little device that looked like a little steering wheel, the handles were covered with some sort of steel, and asked me to hold it. He entered my information (sex, age, weight and height), pressed a little "start" button and asked me to read aloud to him the numbers that will come up on the screen. The device had two little screens and when the numbers pop up I asked which number he wanted first. "The one on top, which is gona be your body fat" -he said.

I read to him out loud "eight point four". He turned around with a quick "what?!" and took the device from my hands. Think about pulling a rabbit out of my hat right there and the look in his eyes; I thought for a second that I was sick, inches away from the great beyond. Of course he saw in my eyes that I'd just freaked out and proceeded to explain that that was the first time someone scored so low. No shit dude, with so many fat people in this city I even wondered if that little device had enough digits to measure their fat! He even had the nerve to ask me if I don't get too cold during Winter. . . I wanted to tell him about my love affair with cold weather but I really wanted to go and burn some energy instead of talking about how peculiar I am. My BMI turned out to be 21 according to my 5'7/138lbs which is within the right range, but a bit low according to him.


So after that little meeting I jumped in the treadmill for a nice run, followed by a lot of painful exercises with weights and machines. I told him about my goal of getting some "killer abs" and he made me do some shit that really hurt my poor belly. The third abs exercise was to sit on this huge beach ball-like and do some small sit ups. It looked very easy but after the third one I was shaking like if I was having an epileptic attack.

At the end, when I was exhausted mildly tired, we had a chat and I decided to hire him as my very personal trainer; just like one of those Hollywood stars out there. But we're gona have only three sessions, each one month apart. I want to be able to see *some* results not just in front of the mirror while shaving in the mornings, but I want to be able to measure whatever progress I could achieve. I certainly don't need someone beside me acting like a cheerleader and saying that I'm doing great and that I have six more repetitions to go and to keep going strong and blah blah blah. If I cannot find the inner strength and discipline to show up in the gym as often and with the intensity of my new year's resolutions, then I'm just not gym material and a lost cause. Period.

This visit to the gym today taught me two things: first of all, that I'm just blowing money like if that shit grows in a tree. Better to slow down before I have to go and, er, donate blood for few extra bucks maybe? Or perhaps go and sell my. . . you know, my. . . male stuff? -which by the way I have plenty of it these days!

And it also thought me that a diet rich in pasta and tons of Parmesan cheese, together with one apple a day, lots of whole milk, an incredible active sexual life and a lot of alcohol during weekends, would allow you to have a lean, mean, and thin fat-free figure like cool Jean-Fran! Have to celebrate this coming weekend with large doses of alcohol and several strips of grease bacon to crank up my level of body fat.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

[testing]

Updating from my e-mail account; let's see if this makes it all the way to the blog.
Had a very bad night last night. When I woke up my legs were hurting me, a clear sign that nightmares had been hunting me down the previous night.
I was in an airplane, sitting in one of the front rows; we've had, what it seemed to be at that time, a pleasant flight. As we started to get ready to land I remember seeing that the airplane had a sunroof and that the doors to the cockpit were wide open, showing the night lights of a city below us. I could see some buildings very clear and very near, even the control tower was an arm's reach when all hell broke lose. Flight attendants started running up and down the aisle shouting that there was an emergency and that everybody had to prepare for a crash landing.
They handed something to put in our mouth and I managed to get my drivers licence out of the wallet and put it in my mouth as well (a trick I learnt in my real life, so that if the crash landing goes bad and everything and everybody goes up in smoke, at least they can recognize you for your ID, which somehow will be kind of protected).
I was confused and upset, because we were just seconds from landing and how come is it that suddenly the shit has hit the fan? Everybody ducked and some other passengers adopted the crash landing position as seen on the airplane's guide, but I kept looking throught the cockpit's glass windows at the ground, which was getting closer and closer.
We hit the ground and slide sideways. I was one of the first passengers on my feet and I even got my luggage from the upper compartment and left the airplane. It surprised me that everybody was kind of cool, no one was screaming or stuff like that. That was a swift crash I have to say.
There wasn't any firefighters or ambulances or anything like that; so we just walked to a part of the terminal were there was a little hill and a dusty path. There was like an hangar behind us and we all stood there looking at the wreackeage out in the distance. A fence, besides where I was stading, had been cut open long ago and there was quite a few trespassers walking by. I could only recognize a kid with a camoflauge jacket and an XXXL pair of jeans.
I woke up in a hotel room and realize that the crash had been three days ago and that it is either Christmas or New Year's and that I have to go back to whatever city I had to go back to. I arrive at the airport and demand my ticket to that city because I was one of the "survivors of the wreckage". There were around six employees sitting in boots and looking like if they were part of a calling center. No one pays attention to me and others just look in disdain. I lose my cool and yell that I want a ticket because I have to go back to my city and that they better provide one. I repeat that I was one of the survivors of the wreckage just few days ago.
They look at me like "whatever dude", like if I'd told them that I'd survived a sneeze or something as stupid as that. One big fat woman stands up and starts cursing me saying that she doesn't work for me and that I can go and fuck myself. I start loosing my cool and reply to her with even worst words than what she'd used. A guy besides her stands up looking mean and I completely lose my cool; I swear I'm gona kick the shit out of that motherfucker and whoever gets between me and that airplane ticket. I even picture myself biting his ear like Mike Tyson.
I'm walking up a drive way towards a house, my memory is still playing some footage from the airport. Behind those useless people in the boots I remember seeing a terminal, with security checks, desks with different names and logos of airlines and people walking around carrying bags. Is sunset and the house, which has brick walls, looks empty. I'm not quite sure what I'm doing there but that's suppose to be the place I wanted to go. I think what would I do if there's no one home.
The alarm went off right after that, the alarm clock in the real world.
I went to bed last night around midnight and I just couldn't fall sleep. I used all my techniques to fall sleep like reading, drinking a glass of warm milk, etc. but I couldn't. So I forced myself to stay in bed until fallen sleep. Crazy dreams always follow that situation.

Monday, January 16, 2006

That Someone...

When I first heard about you, there was someone else in my life and I didn't give you a second thought. But as the days went by, I learnt more and more about you and I started to like what I was seeing. Even people I talked to about you, said that I should give you a try. Again, there was someone else in my life and I didn't see the point in turning my head to look at you. Things with that someone, with whom I had been for many years now, were fine; were actually pretty good and I didn't have any complains whatsoever. We understood each other very well and we also complimented each other in many ways, I can assure you that I was a happy man.

Don't quite know when I started thinking more about you; and more and more and more. Maybe was during the Holiday Season when more people pointed out to me that great personality that you have and those good looks. So it was during those cold winter days, when I finally turned my back to that someone who had been with me for so many years, and headed into your arms.

You were very attractive and had some things and personality traces that my old relationship didn't. I thought during those post-Christmas days that I'd found the perfect match: you had all what I liked in that someone I'd been involved with, and more, much more; I thought that between you and me the sky was gona be just the beginning. I embraced you with that fervor and that commitment that I hadn't seen in myself in perhaps more than a decade -when I was only a little boy. I remember going to bed and thinking that things just couldn't get any better! Well yeah, of course they could, but that's another story.

But then I decided one day to check on that old someone. . . I am a man who doesn't forget those who've been good to me. That old someone understood my change of heart and even encourage me to follow my dreams, and I would like to point out that that old someone was actually thrilled to see me so happy, because the truth of the matter is that I was a happy man! You see, it doesn't take much to bring a smile to my face and quite a few extra heart beats into my life. And seeing such a kind and tender heart in those two very important someones in my life, I thought that I couldn't get any luckier. Was from that moment on, when I started hanging out with both of you, randomly, and enjoying every single moment. We even hung out together, the three of us, having fun while learning a lot of new things about special people out there and just stuff in general. Talk about the three mesquiteers and us!

But I started noticing something. . . things sometimes weren't right and they didn't make sense. One of you would tell me one thing and few moments, or days later, the other would say something different. I thought it was just daily life, because life is random and stuff goes up and down, that is perfectly understandable. But little by little I started to realize that there was more to it, it couldn't be just a mere coincidence but there was actually a pattern, and if at the beginning I couldn't tell, as the days of the calendar started to fall down and the light got more intense, I was able to see a clearer picture of what was going on. I like to think that I'm very intuitive, but you don't have to have that personality trait in abundance to find out what I found out.

At the beginning, after noticing that pattern, I thought that it had been me. I always put myself on the line first when something is not working fine to see if it was me the one who did or said something wrong, or maybe if I'd missed something. I went back to those early days I spent with that brand new someone and reconstructed minute by minute our first encounters, chats, conversations; those very own wishes, dreams, and plans for the future that we shared; I even remembered like if it had been a second ago the two of us making out for the first time. . . And my heart started to fill with many questions and doubts about my new found love. During those days I saw myself turning my head to look at that special old someone who'd been so special to me in the past, even spending more time -more quality time- with that good old someone. And I started to realize that that old someone, that I've known for so long, was the one who really understood me.

Comparison are awful, that shit is horrible, each person is different and has its own set of qualities, good things, funny things and its own bad things. And when I'm with someone, I forget about whatever has happened in my life before and start with a blank page. When one starts comparing this someone to that someone, is because the end is approaching. So I always try not to compare people. But in this case I compare the two of you, I did, I put you side by side and compared every piece of information I had about you; I even ordered you two to strip butt-naked and to spill your beans out, because it was time to make a decision. I could've stayed with you both [en la variedad está el placer] and it could've been nice, but I'm not a man who likes to play with that shit.

And I finally told that someone who came into my life during the Holiday Season to pack and go; to get everything, every single thing including toothbrush and shit and hit the road. Oh yeah, and that picture that you hung up on my corckboard can also go with you. Sayonara and good luck in your life! You asked me why, and the only answer I could come up with was that I compared you with my old love, and you came in second place. And that means Adiós!

As I said before, it's awful to compare people. . . but I ain't talking about human beings here, I'm talking about internet browsers!

Earlier today, while enjoying a day off, I moved every single piece and bit of information that Firefox had installed in my hard drive to the recycle bin. And then I hit "Empty Recycle Bin". Actually it didn't make it all the way to the recycle bin, because I used the Control Panel to remove it all; and it all was removed!

You were good to me Firefox, but not as good as the good old iExplorer had been to me over the years. Wish you all the best, dear Firefox, and hope you make it to the heaven of deleted software, if there's such thing, or maybe you end up in the so-called Limbo. But don't worry, I'm sure one simple "refresh" from the big man up there, will send you to heaven. . . because you couldn't refresh yourself even to save your own life!

Sunday, January 15, 2006

On Looongitude, and other Demons

Just a simple question; a little and simple question that didn't even have a question mark at the end of it; so simple and so easy to answer that it brought a smile to my face. That is a topic so obvious in my universe that I could've replied with one simple word. But I had received another question and wasn't sure about the answer; I was gona check it out before answering because it's been long time since I witnessed that steam boat with no more than a captain and a couple of passengers sailing down the river, a yellow flag raised on its tallest mast denoting the presence of cólera.

During the day I gave it a second thought and things somehow weren't as clear as they were in the morning. I thought I had my demons under tight control; thought my very own Pandora's Box was firmly locked and everything was crystal clear, but found out the seals had been broken. And I had to look at my demons in the face. . . ugly bastards.

Isn't the presence and the powerful reality of DISTANCE, a reason enough to consider it a long shot? (<--that's a question mark) Distance has wreacked previous relationships in my world, and separation from someone I care for has proved to be a source of lots of sadness and anxiety. So the obvious answer would be "distance": a lot of miles between B and CLT.

The other extra ooo's came from that big question mark that "Shelter" is in my life today (there's more to shelter than was originally published, but there'll be plenty of time to develop it in due time). And those two ugly demons come with lesser ones, but equally hideous, like my very own insecurities and self esteem issues, and stuff like that. I can see them all holding hands and jumping with joy, like children heading for a park in a warm and sunny Spring day.

When looked with a microscope, even little insects looks like horrible monsters; with the naked eye though and without so much fucking thinking that I'd put into it, they just look like bugs. I wish I could smash them with my shoe. Maybe the first step is always to look at your own demonds in the face, and see how fucking stupid they are.

If you are una niña muy linda who loves chocolates and who doesn't care for beer, and who no doubt is worthwhile, those are my very own demons fluttering around, some of the luggage I carry with me, and that's how long, "looong" is for me. That's what was in my mind when I said that "that's a looong shot".

Friday, January 13, 2006

SSIL

Last time I spoke with my SSIL was right before Christmas; she invited me to spend it with her and her family but I declined her invitation [didn't want to have to buy gifts for all of them, I know, what a cheap bastard I am]. I thought about calling her for New Year's, just to say "hola" and to wish them the best for the coming year, but I didn't feel like talking to her. And I've been fully aware that a 5-minute phone call in this new year's is nothing less than Good Manners 101, and I should've done it before. But again, I didn't want to talk to her. I didn't have any reason in particular, is just that I don't have anything to talk to her or anything new to tell her.

So today she called me. I thought twice before picking it up, but I know that if I don't, then within the next twenty four hours I'll have to return her the call: better to get over with it right there and then.

The first couple of minutes was an exchange that is so typical between the people where I grew up in South America: you go back and forth asking how are you, how's it going, what's up, how are things going, tell me what's new, how's your family and so on and so forth. Is not that you expect a different answer after such grilling, but is just the way it goes. Let's just say that is a "cultural thing". So after that exchange, she says that she wants me to meet someone and hands the phone to a girl. Before I go on let me refresh your mind by saying that when I first met them, and when I told them that I was single, they said that they were gona find me a nice young lady for me and that they've brokered something like sixteen marriages. That was back in the days when they thought that I was just a lost sheep and that I was gona end up being part of their church.
So this girls comes on the phone, she has no clue who I am, I have no fucking idea who she's and we're pushed to do some small talk. Being the nice guy that I am we exchange some information and actually do some small talk, both agreeing that it will be a "great idea" to go out one day. Before I can ask her phone number, my SSIL gets back on the phone and invites me to one of her son's birthday party [I decline again] and gives me this girl's cell phone number [with her consent? who knows]. And to wrap up that phone call nicely, she invites me again to go to church with them.

Now, what fucking part she hasn't got: I told her that I like to do other things on Sunday morning than to take a shower, dress and go for one hour to sing and smile and to listen to a guy [the priest] telling me things I could care less about. I haven't told her with this very same words but by now it should be more than obvious that I ain't church material. But she keeps bringing it up and I'm afraid I'm gona have to tell her, with plain and clear words that could leave no room for misunderstandings, that I really don't appreciate her inviting me to go to church. They're nice but as the song goes "if you don't know me by now, you'll never ever know me"; and if they keep pushing on the same topic, I'm just gona detach myself more than what I've already done due all their religious talk.

"A buen entendedor, pocas palabras" says the good old saying; but for them the a most accurate one would be "no hay peor sordo, que aquel que no quiere oir".

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Are U Sure is Dale and not Dan?

Walking through the bookstore, it happen that I had my camera with me. Earlier this evening I had spilled my Cafe au Lait on my favorite cargo shorts and it looked like if I had made it too late for the restroom. . .

Walking down the fiction aisle, I ran into a trend that has taken hold so deep into American society that no one really notices it anymore. I'm talking about deceit and deception, that according to my Spanish/English dictionary and to Google it is the same: something on the lines of misleading and misrepresentation.


What a frigging coincidence that right beside Dan Brown, the bestseller author of the DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons, there's this guy who calls himself Dale Brown. And the coincidence goes even further when the title of all his "bestseller" books are on the lines of Mr. Brown -yes, the other Mr. Brown.

I wonder how many people have picked up the wrong book thinking that Dan and Dale are the same author and that have helped this Dale guy rise through the lists of bestsellers. I wonder how many people have said in a reunion that they read "Shadows of Steel" by DAN Brown and that it wasn't as good as the DaVinci Code; or perhaps the other person in the conversation thought that it was the new book that is -or was- coming out and that she better keep smiling and nodding and thinking that tomorrow after dropping the kids at school and before picking them up for soccer practice she's gona go and buy it.

Is this a simple and white coincidence, or just some more deceit and deception that have spilled from the political sphere of society (W) to our daily lives? or perhaps the other way around?

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Firefox

During the Holiday Season I downloaded Firefox to my laptop; and it was perhaps the only gift I didn't have to pay for. A lot of people had mentioned it to me and its advantages over the iExplorer, and it seemed that I was the only one who wasn't using it. So I had to do it. And now that I've done it, I'm gona blog it.

I'm gona stay stay in the dark side for while y'all The iExplorer has been good to me in the past, I do have to say it, and I don't have any complaints about it. Even though the word on the street is that MSoft is the "Evil Empire" and w'all should try to undermine it using open source software, the truth is that the iExplorer and I have had a long and stable relationship throughout the years. But I'm also aware that is hard to tell how good it has been to me because I've had only one choice, the iExplorer, so how can I compare different products and come up with a real and thoroughly answer? That's the main reason why I got the Firefox: to see if I've been living in a mirage, in a complete lie, perhaps in a world that resembles the Matrix and Firefox is the white rabbit [follow the white rabbit Neo. . .] that once installed and running I'll be able to witness a whole new world out there!

Well, I have it now and that Brave New World doesn't refresh as often as the iExplorer does. Complain número uno.

I've been using both browsers randomly for the last couple of weeks: I'll check a blog with one while reading the news with the other, or one day I'll use only one, etc; random shit at its best. And I've noticed that Firefox doesn't refresh pages as often [or as good?] as the iExplorer does. I checked some blogs one day, and when I came back a couple days later I saw that the posts I had read were gone, and some old ones were in place. So I did what a regular non-computer human being would do to see WTF was going on: hit the refresh button and voilá the missing posts were there! The same happened after posting a comment and going back to the page to see that there's zero comments [have to hit refresh again] and so on.

I thought for a moment that I'd done something wrong when installing it, but if to carefully follow all the steps in the installation wizard means that I fucked it up, then all this open source software bullshit is not for me after all: long life to the Evil Empire! But I came to the conclusion that it just doesn't reload that often. . . not big deal really.

I also had a complain número dos, but I've forgotten what it was. Maybe it wasn't a big deal. Oh, I remember, and it wasn't actually a complain, just a comentario. My geek friends told me that Firefox was faster than the iExplorer, and I'm sure they're right, but to my naked eye there's just no difference whatsoever when it comes to speed. Maybe the difference is almost a 100%, being Firefox twice as fast than its rival loading web pages, but a difference between 0.5 and 0.8 seconds is for me the same shit.

So I got it, I used it, and I blog it [veni, vidi, vinci]; and now is time to get under my blanket and my brand new bed sheets 'cause tomorrow is gona be un día muy largo para mí­.

Monday, January 09, 2006

One Down

I joined a new gym today. . . and I'm heading there right now!

One resolution down, quite a few more to go. Cheers!

Sunday, January 08, 2006

New Year's Resolutions

You read it right: New Year's Resolutions! Management at the Global Headquarters of the Stranger in a Strange Land Blog are not immune to the general trends in society and one of them is to plan for all the great things that you want to do in the coming year. Yes, great things because nothing has been broken yet. Back when I was an innocent and little kid, I was big in New Year's Resolutions. Oh my God, I always had things I wanted to change, new plans I wanted to undertake, sometimes I even wanted to become a brand new boy by the time the lights of the new year could touch everything around me. Walking down memory lane for the last couple days, I remembered that past resolutions included to love more my family, to do better in school, to exercise more, to stop cursing, to learn to do something specific, and stuff like that.

As time went by and I started going through the whole process of growing up my resolutions started changing and evolving. For example, when I was eighteen I said that I will stop smoking cigarettes (it took me seven more years to quit that awful shit); few years before that I said that I was gona improve my tennis game to a level that could place me in the top ten of my former country club's chart (today I still can't hit the damn ball); I also said that I will fuck certain number of girls before the end of the year (one of the most stupid shit I ever came up with. I liked to set high goals in this one, but with not much luck in all honesty); and specially I will say, year after year, that the first of the year I will become a more outgoing and more forthcoming boy/teenager/dude/man in my personal relationships.

Cynicism is a trend that everybody should avoid in this life. To become a cynic is to be disenchanted with life, with yourself, and with the magic that exists out there. Cynicism is a general distrust on the motives and integrity of other people; a believe that everybody out there is just motivated by selfishness, and the cynic's outlook is overall negative. That shit doesn't hit you one day out of the blue but is created over the years and engraved in your brain little by little (by for example, coming up with New Year's Resolutions only to forget about them and then blame yourself for being good at nothing for not sticking to them). To grow cynic to yourself is the worst poison that can come to anyone's heart; that's perhaps hell on earth. And I fell on my own trap for a long list of reasons that I don't fully know or understand, and became Mr. Cynic himself. Among other things I stopped doing New Year's Resolution because for what? I'm not gona follow them, so what's the fuzz about it? Fuck that shit and those stupid resolutions! A new year means that you just have to write a different number when filling a check or a form. Period.

And as a matter of fact it is; a new year is not gona bring any change to anyone's life unless you want that change. Perhaps a brand new year can be a good excuse to do things that you've been procrastinating on. It's very easy to say "I'll do it next Monday", because there's always a new Monday around the corner, or a new month and you can postpone things for ever; but to seriously consider doing something in the New Year is a bigger commitment, and a good excuse to try to straighten one's path.
So this year I'm gona break the spell and I'm gona come up with some resolutions and I'm gona lay out the challenges that Jean-Francois will face this year. Hopefully this will help me keep my perspective in the coming months.

Anyone who has studied Organizational Behavior has came across the Needs Theory of Abraham Maslow. He says that people work to satisfy their needs; first they will try to satisfy their basic physiological needs, and then they will progress over time to satisfy their safety and security, belongingness, esteem, and self-actualization needs. Very boring stuff. But for this post I'm going to take the very basic needs exposed by Maslow and will adapt them to my life in order to paint a picture of what I want in this year and the challenges that I'm gona be facing. Here let me point out that according to Maslow's Needs Theory the most basic needs of any individual are Food and Water, Shelter, and Sex (yes, sex, I'm not making this up, seriously).

FOOD AND WATER

This section of my New Year's Resolutions is not really related to food and water, but I'll give an overall list of little goals and health-related stuff I would like to focus on.
The bottom line is that you are what you eat, and how you feel physically. So one of my resolutions this year is that I'm going to re-join a gym. You see, my old gym wanted to rise my monthly fee from a subsidize $12 to a full metro membership worth $40, so I decided to quit and exercise on my own. I did it the first few weeks but as there wasn't any hot and sweaty blondes running around me, as opposed to the cardio area of the gym, I had no motivation and I've been a very lazy boy! This month I'm going to either re-join my old gym (YMCA) or find me another one a little bit cheaper; and I'm also planning in going at least around twice a week. At the end of the year I expect to have achieved a bit more than a hundred visits to the gym. And some killer abs, like *someone* I know.

Food related stuff, to follow on the title, I'm also going to learn to cook better and a wider variety of dishes. It doesn't really take much to fulfill this resolution, just a couple of cookbooks and some time to practice and burn whatever new stuff I'm trying to cook. Don't plan to have a feast on every meal coming out of my oven, but if I come up with a nice dish that I can memorize once in a while, I could say that I meet my resolution.

And now that I'm at it and before I lose trust let me mention some of the other resolutions that I have for this new year before moving to more pressing topics: I have the bad habit of procrastinating when it comes to folding my laundry and there's been entire weeks that I've lived out of the drying machine, pulling out of there whatever I need whenever I need it. I'm not planning to be like a Swiss clock when it comes to folding my laundry, but I'll try to do it more often.

I'm also gona use less my check card to pay for stuff and gona start using cash: I'm gona withdraw a generous amount at the beginning of each week (or every two weeks) and will use it for whatever I need (my spending went so-fucking-out-of-control this last month that I'm afraid to read my seriously depleted balance in my bank statement).

And I'm also going to learn how to change the break pads in my car and how to do an oil change, and I'm actually gona do it! One thing that I've always wanted to learn is how to typewrite with all my fingers. . . instead of the two four that I'm currently using. I don't have high hopes on this resolution but let me just say that this year I'm gona get a software to learn that shit and I'm gona try it.

SHELTER

This is a very hard topic for me to blog about and one that makes me edgy just by thinking about it. This year, 2006, is when I'll find out if I'm worth more than a dime or I'm just a lost cause. In the next months I'll learn whether I can stay here in the US for good or pack my stuff and head back to South America never to look back again. This year is when I'm gona make it or break it, I'll learn if I'm gona stay here or if I'm just gona put my MBA under my arm and finish my days speaking Spanish.

I've always thought that jokes are not just a stupid comment that catches you off guard making you laugh, in part due to its implausibility. For me a joke is something completely different: It is a statement or a comment that makes one laugh because it wraps the true in a way that one's conscious self thinks that it's impossible; but one's subconscious self thinks that it is perfectly possible, and the struggle between conscious and unconscious self sparks a short circuit in the brain that is exteriorized as laughter (pretty clever, uh?).

On the first appointment I had with my very own blood sucker vampire with an "immigration law" title hanging on his office, he said that what I should do is to get married to an American citizen. He called that "the fastrack to become a permanent resident". Of course we both laughed, he more than I did. . . And now I know why: that shit ain't easy at all! and he knew what he was talking about (and at $250 an hour, he better knows what the fuck he's talking about). And before anyone misunderstands my words and thinks that I'm soliciting for a wife, my whole point here is that the process to become a resident is very long and tedious and the system is stretched too thin that there's entire months when the only thing you can do is "wait". If I knew it was gona cost so much money and time, I would have spent all that money and time on a girl! (<-- that was a joke BTW).

So this year is when I'm gona learn if my original plan of moving to the US came through or not. And I'm tempted to say that is this category, Shelter, the one that sits at the heart of many issues and struggles in my life at this point and is by far the most important thing in my whole universe. Actually is the second most important thought right now in my head, being the first one what am I gona wear Tuesday night to go to my Life Music Tuesdays! Now you see that I do know how to keep things on perspective. . . (<--another joke, just in case you missed).

SEX

Just as the two previous categories of Food and Water, and Shelter, this category carries more than your usual night of hanky panky. More than coming up with a number of sex encounters for this year (or the life of love without love as the author once said) as I used to very foolishly do, I'm gona focus my energy in finding someone. And I'm not just looking for someone for the sake of the company, but someone worthwhile (there's a very special and interesting *someone* actually, even though that's a looong shot).

Anyways I've noticed that when I'm with a girl I really care for (when Jean-Fran's little heart is pumping love to every corner of his body), I become a complete different person. I turn into someone who I really like, someone that is not just nice and perhaps fun, but a guy that is driven and optimistic and happy. When I'm in love I'm able to get a better grasp on daily life and the sun actually shines in my world and the little birds sing more often than not. When hanging out and making out with someone I really care for my horizons expand and I can see well beyond my nose and ahead into the future. The tea leaves at the bottom of my cup actually talk to me and encourage me to go even further; my cracked crystal ball starts showing a lot of good things happening to good people, as I turn into a very good human being.

And the truth of the matter is that I miss that guy that I turn into when I'm with someone I feel comfortable with. I know very well the type of girl that I'm attracted to and I know very well what I'm looking for in a female -it doesn't make it any easier to find it, but to know who you want and what you can bring into a relationship helps you keep focused. And even if my conscious self doesn't recognize that special girl at the very beginning, as it has happened before in my life, my subconscious mind sets off all possible alarms for me to realize it and to open my eyes. Here I would like to say and to make the resolution that I will not, under any circumstances, set my eyes on a girl who is planning on leaving the country or the state, as the last fucking thing that I want in this life is another farewell. But I'm also fully aware that the struggle between the brain and the heart is like a fight between a hungry tiger and a donkey tied to a tree. The donkey is the brain. . . and there's just no chance.

In this category I'm going to include a resolution that I used to come up with year after year and that I know is going to take long time to fulfill, and hopefully I'll never be able to say that I accomplished it. This year I'm gona try to be more forthcoming with people I care for, to show them and to tell them that they're important in my life (and the opposite too). Sounds very easy but you have to understand that I'm a shy guy, and everytime I say this to someone they burst in laughs. I know that I'm shy because I've been fucking dealing with my own self for longer than anybody out there and I know what I'm talking about. I also know that one of the personality traits that I carry with me is that I try to show that I'm outgoing as a way to hide the fact that I'm shy. Sounds like the most fucked up shit I've ever written but is exactly how I feel! It just takes long time and a lot of effort for me to open up to someone, and even though I don't look like, that shit is hard for me. So a resolution for this year is to keep working on the aforementioned issue and. . . I don't know, let's see what happens.

So there you have it: a whole new set of resolutions, plans and challenges for this brand new year! What would the next twelve months will bring into my life? Time has the answer, and this little blog will witness it.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

First Red Flag of the Year

Watch out for red flags, biotch!Of course the customer service representative was smiling on the other end of the line, that's perhaps the easiest money she's ever earned for her bank. And talk about life lessons and red flags in this brand new year. . .

I went to my landlord's to give him the check with January's rent but there wasn't anyone home. Not wanting to slide it under the door because I knew his two devilish dawgs will end up eating the check, I decided to put it in the mailbox. So I left the check (dated 01/03/07 as I thought we were in '07) in his mailbox and I kind of overlooked the fact that the little red flag was up, meaning that there was outgoing mail yet to be picked up.

I thought that a plain white envelope with my landlord's first name on it and nothing else (no stamp, return address, etc.) will prompt the mailman to leave it in there. Big mistake.

So that blood sucker vampire that my landlord is, dialed my phone number the day before yesterday and we chatted for a while. After the third time that he asked me "and what's up?" I knew that he wasn't calling me to tell me about his Hanukka celebrations but to ask for the check. "I didn't get it, dawg!" was his answer when I asked him about it. So I wrote a new check (dated '06 this time) and put it in the mailbox again, together with all his incoming mail -I learnt my lesson. And talk about an expensive lesson!

After I talked to him I called the bank to cancel the first check. The girl on the other side of the line, who was very nice and very efficient and helpful, told me that they charge thirty two greens to cancel my check! Thirty two hard earned greens to cancel a check in a time of the year when my poor bank account had been so used and abused that I really hope my rent's check won't bounce. My credit has long been reached and breached so if there's not enough cash in my account I'll have to pawn my PS2, or better yet the microwave -which belongs to my landlord's wife. . .

After she mentioned that little fee to cancel the check, she waited silently on the line for my "go ahead with it darling" so that she could hit enter and transfer those funds immediately to the bank's bank account. She only got silence from my side of the line though while I struggled with the concept of a small price to pay for peace of mind. I gave her the green light finally and she asked me if I was completely sure I didn't need further help with anything else. With those prices for such a simple service I'd also be smiling and pushing for more services.

The word on the street says that you have to be on the look for red flags in your relationships, work, daily life and so on; but how in the frikking world did I miss such an obvious *little* red flag in my life?!

Wednesday, January 04, 2006

What's in a Number?

Oh, crap! I've been writing 2007 on every single message, letter, e-mail, post card, note, check, post-it, and even on the bathroom wall right next to my name of that bar I went to yesterday. . .

But for fuck's sake, this is only 2006!

Talk about starting the year with the right foot and the right attitude, and by doing so confusing the year number. Am I maybe ready for this year to end?! It could've been worst though, could've written 3006 or some really crazy stuff like that!

In any case. . . Happy New Year y'all!!!

Would this be my last year in the South?

Monday, January 02, 2006

A pinch of Salt

I have perfectly clear in my mind the reasons that brought me to cut ties with her for almost a whole semester. I remember like if it was yesterday our last conversation: her reassuring words, pouring out of my cell phone telling me not to worry about anything because she was gona be there for me. And I also remember calling her that day, that very same fateful Saturday trying to get a hold of her. I even remember picturing her, looking at the screen of her cell phone blinking and showing my name on the screen, and she just letting it ring, unattended. At that time it was hard for me to believe that someone close to me, someone that I had open my heart to would betray me right at that moment.

Trying to get drunkThere's moments in a life of a men when there's despair and restlessness in his heart; times when a men is sad, very sad, and needs to surround himself with people that understands and who are fully aware of what is going on in his life. There's also a time when he needs to go out drinking, trying to drawn in alcohol those demons that hunt him down making his life miserable. It's in moments like those when he needs a friend, nothing more but nothing less than a friend. Imagine the days when you were a kid and were trying to learn to ride a bike; you know that your dad will be there holding you so that you would not fall. That's how I felt in those days about her: she was right there waiting to hold my hand. And I couldn't been more wrong.

I'm not a very demanding friend; I'd fall in the "laid back" type of friend asking for only two things: lack of drama and loyalty. Above all loyalty. If there's drama, that means our friendship will expire in a matter of minutes as I'd just detach myself from it. If you like drama, you don't like me, it doesn't get any easier. And drama is very easy to spot, unlike loyalty or the lack of it. As little as I demand from my friends, I do expect that when the time comes for them to step up to the plate, they'll hit a home run. You'll not have to read the tea leaves to know when I really need you, and not need to worry about checking your crystal ball to see if that's the day I'm gona knock on your door: I'll let you know with clear words and actions, and in advance, that the time has come. And I'll tell you how important it is for me that you help me out. She failed me big time and therefore, not wanting bullshit in the form of lame explanations, I severed all ties with her.

To add insult to injury, I never got a message from her. We have each other's phone number, e-mail and real world addresses, on top of living as close as a mere three minute-car ride in a straight line. After that day when we were suppose to see each other I never got a single message from her. Not even a single note, a one line text message. Nada. The following days I expected in vain news from her, but absolutely nothing came from her, not even spam. That really makes you think how fucking wrong you were in choosing your friends and in classifying her as someone I could count on. Her, among the other people around me. . . talk about the fall of an idol and that shit.

On new year's day I got an e-mail from her inviting me to join her and her girl friends later that night to give a final farewell to this "fucking year that is finally dawning on us". It came as a surprise and it brought a smile to my face. I already had plans for that night but I decided to cancel them and join her (in all honesty I'd say that 30% of me wanted to see her and mend our broken friendship; and the remaining 70% wanted to know who her new girlfriends that she wanted to "introduce" to me looked like. That was a very cheap trick but it worked, even though her girlfriends weren't what I was expecting).

More than six months have passed since the last time we spoke and a hug was enough to wash off whatever problems we had. I would've liked to talk to her about what happened, but I know that she doesn't listen and doesn't like to use her brain too often. I'm also aware that the term "emotional intelligence" that is commonly refered to a state of mind where you try to get to know yourself and the people around you better in order to have a deeper understanding of who you are, has not entered her conscious or subconscious mind and will never do. More than a "good friend" I consider that we both have a lot of things in common and have gone through a lot of struggles together in a whole variety of topics, and that we've shared a lot of our very deep and personal thoughts on certain matters which have lead us to become very close to each other even though we're not best friends. A better word to describe our relationship is to say that we're allies. That defines very well what we are.

So together with her girlfriends and some other friends we party the night away trying to leave behind a year that was nothing but very fucking difficult. The next morning we said good-bye with the promise of keeping in touch and, according to the definition of our relationship as allies, I'll do something for her and she'll do something for me and we'll check on each other later this week. I'd say that this year started with things between the two of us back to "normal", but I know and I'm fully aware that I have to take her words and promises with much more than just a pinch of salt.