Excuses, excuses...

I read a rather disturbing piece of "article" in the Times.  It is called "Christmas romance confessions". Three of them are nice love stories. Two of them are just stories of affairs between remorseless married people.

And this is what I find disturbing. The fact that someone at Times, whom I thought better of, included the sleazy affairs among Christmas romances, when in fact they have nothing to do with neither Christmas nor romance.

Cheating has nothing to do with romance. If one is married but feels attracted to some other person and wants to act upon it, than fairness should lead to dissolution of that marriage. It does not matter how "complicated things are right now". Things are easy enough - you want to go hump someone else, do it outside the marriage vows. But, of course, this almost never happens. The cheaters go ahead and chase whomever they fancy, the cheated stay at home and do not suspect anything. Until it is too late, and the damage is done. And then the cheaters go say something along the lines of "I did not mean to hurt you, it just happened, it did not mean anything, blah-blah".

This is WRONG. I do not care about the religious views and punishments on the subject, or social codes, whatever. It is not FAIR towards the person who remains faithful. That person hurts the most. That person does nothing wrong, keeps the vows taken, and stays true, and is hit in the head from behind. And it is not the head that gets broken, but the heart. And a broken heart is hard to mend.

I hate cheaters. I despise the excuses they give for their cheating. Regardless of the road that took them to that point in their life, cheating is not a way out of sorrow.

Things may be very complicated. But cheating is never a solution. The cheaters have all the "fun" and the cheated take all the heartache. Completely unfair!

And The Times is no better than the Daily Whatever in publishing such garbage. But I should have known better, since the piece with "I slept with my brother and have no regrets about it" stayed for almost one year on the middle column with recommendations in the Life and Style section. Gosh!

And no, I am not cheated upon, nor do I cheat (obviously, considering the righteous tone of this post). I know people who were. Sadly, I also know people who cheated.

Love is so rare these days... True love, with true commitment. This is why I always get teary when listening to this:

Rare day

I have a very ambiguous relationship with patriotism and my country.

I am bugged when people discriminate Romanians just because they come from 'a chip off the old Soviet block, used to get up early in the morning singing patriotic songs and peppy reporting of false improvements'. Pardon my French, but up yours, orright?

I am equally bugged when Romanians consider themselves as the perpetual victims of history. History is what you make of it, but if you just let it happen, you have no one but yourself to blame.

I am known to speak not exactly kindly of my country. There are many, many flaws and it really breaks my heart to see good things go uselessly to waste.

Nevertheless, there were three occasions when I was proud of my country. I am not referring to sporting events or such. There were three times when the elections were not won by the PSD. First time, I, along with many others, naively thought that things will change. Nothing changed. The second time, cautious after the first major disappointment, we voted for change again and got it. Things changed some, but not always for better. Now, yesterday, it was the third time we voted for change and the third time we won - marginally (50.37%), but we did win.

I am strangely proud. Proud that against the media manipulations of the last years, blatant and shameless and obvious, history got to repeat itself. Last time the exit polls were ordered to show a different winner, and the victory speeches were embarrassingly loud and brash from the party that proved to be on the losing side.

I was afraid yesterday, watching the national television, that this time the horrific pictures could be true. Today I am glad that social-democrats, liberals and the other morons, plus the moguls behind them, get to choke back on their words.

It is a bid sad that the people actually living in Romania get to be so easy to be fooled around. There was a documentary on Arte that is refreshingly unpointing fingers at anyone. Although I suspect whom the maker voted with. But still, one very sad conclusion is that the most lucid of them all appears to be Dan Diaconescu, the guy who invented OTV, a controversial and very looked-down upon TV channel. He says that people who live there are numb, manipulated by the media, because in Romania, TV is everything (oh, so very true!), and that those who get disappointed, they emigrate. No fancy words, no nifty sketches, no chest pounding. Sad.

Another sad thing is that almost 50% of Romanian voted for someone whom they call 'the village idiot'. And the diaspora vote was needed to tip down the scales.

I know those who disagree with me think that I am petty being so 'involved' in politics. Being on the winning side here, I can agree to disagree.

It is not that I am  bursting with pride. I do not think that things will be radically different from now on. I do not believe that the current president is Prince Charming on a white horse who is going to fix everything. But I am glad that he has the chance to at least try to make things a bit different. And I have to admit that getting to see the looting bunch from PSD and the rest making fools of themselves does make my day.

On this note, I may add that more good news are more than welcome!

End is near

I can't believe that is it December all over again.

Even though during this year I had the impression that time has passed slowly and rather difficultly for me, still, I am surprised to see that the year itself has passed without me really being aware of it.

This is one year that I will not regret to see it leave. Too many bad 'firsts'. To few good 'beginnings'. No real follow through. Good riddance, 2009.

Sometimes new is good

I fight constantly the impression that, as far as music is concerned, pretty much has been said and done. I recognise too often in songs played on the radio musical phrases that are reused (not to say stolen) in more pathetic ways than one.

I embrace the novelty in this respect, but at the same time I am wary of new kids trying to make it big in the evil, huge world. Their rage and hunger to be heard is nothing new after all. It's all just history repeating.

I need time to break my barriers and give in to the new. The good new.

Holding out makes only for a better reward.

I went to get hubs a CD he wanted but could not make up his mind when he saw it. He is very excited to have discovered some new bands and to have some older bands release new albums (which are not completely crappy).

Being there, quite early in the morning, not too many people around to get on my nerves, I set to track new bands I meant to listen to 'sometime'.

I left not with one, but with no less than six CD-s.

I am determined to go back for more Mando Diao albums, I only got two of them, apparently the best of them, and I can't believe I let myself be blind to their music because I did not like their name. I still don't, can't exactly put my finger on it why, but their music totally makes up for the silly name. It's been so long since I found an album that I liked from the first to the last track! Give Me Fire is that kind of album.

Next find is King of Leons. I have to admit I only set out to listen to their samples because I think their Sex on Fire is one of the most brilliantly haunting songs I have heard in a while. I am not all that won over by their other works, I keep considering it as a work up to this song, which obviously deserves all the hype it's got so far. But I am willing to give them their time and work their magic on me.

And finally I gave in and got The Killers' Hot Fuss.

It's good to know that there is still something to be said which is worth listening to. And I just love books and music that give me that very selfish feeling that I am the sole intended audience the author/s had in mind, that make me feel that they were written just for me, and that I am the only one who can really truly appreciate that particular piece of work as it really should.

On another line of thinking - blogger and its features amount to a handsome pile of utter rubbish! Wish there were really some other options out there. But sadly, there are not. They are all pretty much the same. Whatev'...

The day after the weekend

I still have one more day to prepare my speech for the Jehovah's witnesses ladies.

But what I wanted to write about today is still related to religion.

Long story short - I came to be owner of a very large icon which sadly has no place in my home. I thought of going to the church and giving it away to someone who might appreciate it better. Which I did. I got sidetracked (as I usually do) and instead of giving it to an older and rather poorer lady, the icon ended up in the hands of a horrendous lady whose daughter is both a dentist and a princess (I kid you not, I have her business card, which reads First Name - PRINZESSIN - Last Name, the last name having a posh sound about it), and she wanted to thank me by getting me to be  her dentist daughter's client. I managed to dodge that one quite swiftly (that is only because I was completely unaware of her intention), but when she asked for my phone number, I could find no reason to refuse her. So I gave it to her.

As you may suspect, the hag called me. She interrogated me for some ten minutes.

Here I must explain something to you: I am getting more and more like my grannie every day. If you ask my grandmother a question, she feels compelled to provide you with practically every little detail she can think of related to the subject matter. For example, the phone rings and someone asks to talk to my dad. Instead of saying simply 'He is not at home', my gran starts giving full details about his daily routine, his job, his office, the car he drives and when he actually left that morning, blah, blah. You get the picture. I used to get pissed when she would give me away on certain occasions, but mostly I was very amused by this habit of hers. Now, I find myself being more and more like her! Count on me to share most unusal and often inappropriate details, the difference between me and gran being only that I have to be asked for such details, I (for the moment) do not offer them unprompted for.

So, coming back to the hag. She first mistook me for my mother, because I only said 'Alo?' - it is what is most often said in Romania and I consider it quite appropriate to continue to do so. Obviously, since I said 'alo', I had to be my mother. Then she proceeded to ask me about the icon, not without first telling me the current whereabouts of said icon, if you must know it is located in the 'children's room', she had three grandsons and they come sometimes and sleep over and there it where the icon hangs now. So, what she wanted to know was a) when it was given the holy rite by the priest (says so on the back); b) where (still on the back, really, just take a look); c) how long have I had it for (sorry, WHA'??).

Then she wanted to know (stream of conscience following) how long have we been here in Germany, have we been to the church before, 'cause the priest there does not know us, she asked him if he gave the holy rites to the icon, he said no (I wonder if it was before asking him if he knew us...), he gave such rites to some icons before, but those were sold for the benefit of an orphans' shelter in Romania, don't we go to church (you might think we met at the pub), that was her first time she went to the church after two months spent back in Romania (I SO wanted to know that, it was vital for my well being), where did we come from, do I have a job, why not, what is my profession, don't I want to get a job (she was not interested in offering me tips to get a job, no, she was just curious to know if I like being a lousy Hausfrau or if I intend to finally work for a living)... And THIS is where I finally caught a brake and said good bye.

Typical old nosey parker behaviour!

I resisted bravely to giving away to many details and I am very impressed by myself. It was also helpful to have some ten little bells ringing viciously in my head at each of her questions and I think it has something to do with her, she was the one who got the bells ringing, she is the busybody pushing all buttons at once.

But this got me thinking - why, oh, why do older ladies have such an effect on me? I feel like a 6 year old all over again! They inspire me the same disgruntled respect and need to tell the truth when asked, but only when I think it is what they want to hear. Sheesh...

Aaanywho. The shops started hanging Christmas decorations two weeks ago. We had the first snow last week. I guess next week it's time for ol' Christmas radio to start playing again. But the iTunes are conspiring against it. Have no fear, I will find a way.

And for the musical end, I leave you with a newly discovered band HURT and their heartfelt 'World Ain't Right'.

Tuesday the 13th

Tuesday are not particularly lucky, at least in the Romanian culture. They hold 3 unlucky hours, they say.

13th day of the month is also not that bright in the luck department.

Together they are certainly not auspicious, not for me, not this time of the year.

And most certainly, not for the ladies from the Jehovah's witnesses, who came and did not find me.

Have no fear, they will come back next week.

Tolerance continued

Finding some quiet time after a lot of shoving furniture around the living room, I get to share with my blog the fact that the ladies from Jehovah's witnesses came back last Tuesday. Apparently, Tuesday is the day of the week they spend in my neighbourhood and I get to answer the door at 3 in the afternoon - in case anyone missed it the first time, I enjoy quiet afternoons.

This time they left me the program with all the bible themes that are to be discussed each Sunday until the end of the year. And a booklet with the main topics from the Bible that people are interested in and do not have the time or drive to actually look up in the Bible. I will spare the virtual reader and myself the pain of skimming through it.

This Tuesday they promised to come again. I am at a loss. Do I really seem to be so welcoming, when all this time I thought of myself as a proper hag repelling unwanted people to bother me a second time? I do have to reconsider my attitude.

The pretext is to come pick up the booklet.

I need to find the proper argument for them to abandon all hope of converting me. Or at least of getting me to join their cult or whatever. And most importantly, I want my quiet Tuesdays back. Even the thought of them coming over is troubling.

I understand that this is what 'missionaries' do, try to make people see their truth, against said people's will, but really, in this modern times, the idea of missionary is out of place for me. With a modicum of interest, you can find out anything you want to know about practically everything that you had no idea about. One of the blessings of internet. The counterpart is that anyone is virtually a doctor in anything nowadays, with a degree from the Google Academy of Higher Truth and Knowledge. Digressing, again...

The above mentioned shoving around of furniture is needed in the eve of the arrival of the new, proper, grown-up furniture that is to confirm our grown-up status. It is also good for the morale, keeps things fresh, and I can't wait for the furniture to finally come home and organize the books as I have always wanted to.

Until then, I HAVE to come up with a forceful yet polite line to serve the ladies up on Tuesday, so that they quit visiting me. I suspect I am pretty pathetic, being afraid, well, not afraid, but inconvenienced by two Jehovah's witnesses ladies. Such a push-over...

Tolerance or how I got the opportunity to have the questions on life answered

Tolerance is a word very much used nowadays. As it is usually easily done, people get to overuse it, accelerating the natural process of changing the meaning of a word. Think of 'ambition' or 'selfishness', they used to have negative connotations, now not so much, at least as far as ambition is concerned.

I thought of myself as pretty tolerant, and took pride in being so. But I have discovered yesterday (yet again) that theory and practice are two rather separate things.

Midday, after lunch time, a time I consider very much inappropriate to call on someone, especially if you do not know them, two ladies rang at my door. One was in her 50s, the other in her 60s, closer to 70s. They greeted me in Romanian, not quite what anyone might expect in Munich, I would think, which naturally left me speechless for 2 seconds. What did they want? To invite me to a Bible study at the Jehovah's witnesses church.

I must admit I found the invitation a bit odd, but since we shared the nationality, I told myself to be a bit more tolerant this time and indulge them for a while. I am not a religious person, I do not regularly go to church, but that does not mean I am inclined to trade my not going to my church for not going to another. What follows in italics are the thoughts that sadly I did not share with the ladies.

Seeing that I am awkwardly not knowing how to handle the situation, the younger lady thought it wise to ask me if I am 'worried about the current state of affairs in the world'. Riiiight, because this is a topic to be discussed while standing in the doorway.

'Well, it is a difficult question, certainly there are things that I am not happy about, but then life is so in general and has been since the begining of times, I think, isn't it so?'

I had to answer. I always do that. I have to answer most questions are asked in my presence, even if I am not directly asked.

I realised that I could have answered 'dibbly-doo-bup' and the reaction would have been the same. It does not really matter what you answer, it is the engaging into the discussion that they are after. No, strike that, not discussion, but monologue.

'And the terrorism, and the hunger, and the unemployment... You see, we have a Bible study group, and we are all Romanian, and we would like you to join us and study the Bible together. Because all answers to life are in there, in this Big Book.'

Hmmm, really? For me it only means that the Big Book is vague enough on certain subjects that the answer can be interpreted in various ways and leaves room for all opinions. I am not being blasphemous here, I do think it is the Big Book, but you are not hooking me up with THAT line, lady.

'We left you a brochure with six very important questions in life that people ask, and in there there are the answers to these questions. We left it last year. I am sure you got it. Do you still have it?'

I am sorry, am I being held accountable here for not storing religious propaganda leaflets that clog my mail box?

'I might have had such a leaflet in my mail box, but I must admit I did not read it thoroughly.' Which is true, I did read some of it, because it was in Romanian and it was weird to find it and wanted to know what it was about.

'We can give you another one, I have one more to spare.'

Oh, goody!

'Would you like to read out loud the answer to what is happiness from the Bible?'

'Erm... not really.' Not even for myself, so out loud in the hallway of my block of flats is definitely out of the question.

'But we are Romanians. And we need to stick together. And we can find answers together.' Precisely, flog the old national horse, dear, because this is the way to my heart.

'Look, lady, both my husband and I are orthodox. We may not go to church on a regular basis, but we are NOT considering any change of religious faith. Not now, not ever. So, while I may not dare tell you straight up 'Go on your away and may God bless you', I am telling you that I will think about your little reunion, as an intellectual exercise, but I do not promise anything. May God bless you, my dear ladies.'

The older lady was rather crossed. How can anyone pass up the most important moment of their life to have the questions of life answered? I must be a lost sheep, no doubt.

Now, they did leave a leaflet. The one they did last year as well. It is called 'Would you like to know the truth?' and it gives answers to six questions. I think there is still hope for me after all. Especially since the dishwasher delivery guys take their sweet time getting here.

The answers are structured in two parts, a) is why we ask this question, b) what the Bible tells us.

The six questions:

1. Does God really cares about us?
a) there are religions that preach sufferance existing because God allows it, but they don't give any specific example. They just point the finger, but do not want any legal troubles, I suspect.
b) God does not cause evil. Right. God cares so much that he made it possible for His purpose to become a certainty. Not quite the answer to the question asked, but still. Crystal clear.

2. Will the wars and sufferance ever end?
a) Still a lot of people die in wars and everybody may suffer. (Pretty observant people. It would have never crossed my mind.)
b) God foretells a time when peace will reign on Earth. He will also end all sufferance and injustice. No time frame mentioned. So better not hold my breath.

3. What happens to us when we die?
a) Most religions say that after death, something inside the humans lives on. Others say that the dead can hurt the living or that God punishes the sinners to live in eternal flames of hell. Bad, bad people!
b) Wrong. When people die, they cease to exist. Since the dead are not aware of anything any more, they do not feel, they can neither harm, nor do good to the living. Hmm, they might be right on this one.

4. Is there any hope for the dead?
a) We all want to live with the ones we love. It is natural to long to see once more the dear ones that passed away. Oh, the sheer simplicity of truism!
b) Most those who died shall resurrect. As per the initial intention of God, people will be brought back to life to live in a heaven on earth. So not all those who died. Who gets permission to come back? 'The obedient people'. What does that mean? And I am pretty sure I do not fall into that category.

5. How to pray so that God listen to me prayers? (Oh, Jesus... Literally.)
a) All people of all religions pray. Still, many have the feeling their prayers are not listened to. (A counter-example came to my mind: 'Please, God, please, let me win the lottery this time, please.' 'I would very much want to help you out on this one, but, for my Son's sake, buy a ticket this time, won't you?!')
b) Jesus tells us not to use clichés. If we want to be heard, we must pray as He wants us to. We must learn the will of God and then pray in harmony with it. (Oh, so THAT's where people get it wrong...)

6. How do I find happiness? (Tough one. Let's see the answer...)
a) Many think that money, fame and beauty bring them happiness. They pursue these goals, but realise that they are none the happier. (Duuh! It's certainly not only the money, but, let's face it, money certainly help. As for fame and beauty - people who think this is what happiness is about, when they lose them, they are afterwards converted to Jehovas' witnesses, I think.)
b) Obviously, true happiness can be found only if we try to satisfy our greatest need, to find out the truth about God and His intentions towards us. This can only be done by reading the Bible. (THAT simple! I knew there was some truth about this reading as a pastime.)

So, there you are. You are now as lucky as I am to know the Truth.

I can't believe I am THAT bored to have translated a darn leaflet for the Jehovah's witnesses! In my defence, I am still waiting for the dishwasher to be delivered. They should have been here an hour ago. So much for German punctuality.

Now, after actually reading the leaflet, I wonder: what precisely is the double-digit IQ needed to fall for such globberdash? When I say that the Bible is perhaps THE Big Book, I mean it is such a masterpiece of human pshychology that with apparently simple words it can be so vague on certain subjects that allows any interpretation. And since humans are made so that they are happy when they hear what they want to hear, the Bible literally speaks to anyone.

I am not trashing down God and his followers, I do believe there is a God, only for me He is not the old, white-bearded fellow dozing off up above, He (for lack of a better pronoun) is something else, which I am not going to talk about here. But passing self-evident truths as the words of God is insulting both for God and the people whom the words are addresses to. Opium for the masses does not mean boring me out of my mind or until I pass out, whichever comes first.

I am just acknowledging the fact that, to my dismay, I am not tolerant at all. But more orthodox than ever. Or better said, I am tolerant with other religions as long as they mind their own business and do not try to make me discover the Truth or, plainly said, convert me. As for the 'intellectual exercise', sod it off, I am too choleric for such an exercise.

Frankfurt IAA 2009 - girlie perspective on autoshow and cars

We went last week to the Frankfurt car show. Lotsa people, lotsa cars, old and new, the usual, you know. I will try not to bore you with the run-of-the-mill account of an auto show, I will only tell you what I remember about it, good and bad.

First of all, it's HUGE. You can get blisters walking around cars. Which I find ironic. Walking and cars in the same sentence.
Compared to the Geneva one, is like an melon and an apple put together. The same might be only the number of people of square metre. The good thing is that some stands really stood out. (Oh, how I love me puns!)

The best of them (and quoting our friend Fred from Lyon, çà m'arrache la tête de l'dire) was the BWM stand. Enormous. They had a small circuit inside it! That big it was.

A circuit where you could have a go with one of the beemers. And they had a couple of beautiful, dressed and decent girls standing by their concept car.


Tasteful and interesting. BMW is not my car of choice, but they really did win the "best in show" stand.

Then (almost a tie, they only lost to BMW 'cause of the circuit thing) it was the Renault stand. Most precisely their concept cars stand. Which was spacious, with pastel colours like aqua and pistachio-green, and the cars were all fluffed up and girlish. Don't know about the rest, but I, for one, liked it. It was the first time when a car showed its gender (in most languages, car is feminine, in case I am being too obscure). There, see?

Et bon, çà va, toi...

And talking about gendered cars, what about this Citroen?

Oh, cheri, comme je t'attends, oh, la, la...

The filtered look between luscious lashes, the rounded little mouth, it is definitely a she. No doubt about it.

To wrap up the French, Peugeot had a very interesting water display.


A car show is not only an occasion to see all cars together (more or less), but to see cars that you don't usually see. Like Brabus, the Mercedes tuning company. Had no idea who they were anyway, but I found it impressive. Now, THAT's a German car, Clarkson, don't you agree?


Or the British red Vantage. V 12. Gorgeous. The people behind it were crowding to get inside a closed set to see a new Aston Martin. Or whatever, I don't really know, I refused to queue, even for an Aston.
Talking about queuing, those airheads at Jaguar pulled the same trick as they did in Geneva. Namely, they closed down their stand, and locked up their cars. You could not get closer to any of the Jags, you had to stand in line to be allowed to enter the exclusive Jag space. They got another "sod off" from us, thankyouverymuch. I do not understand this attitude, you could go touch an Aston, but not a Jag, come effing on! The cars are beautiful, owning a Jag makes you instantly 10 cm taller, but I could not stand their idea of stand. There.

(imagine a picture with the logo and only JAGU in the background;
that is the only picture of Jaguar from Frankfurt, but since the blogspot image uploader is weird, I am not willing to go through all the hoops again just for that)

Moving on. Still an enclosed space to display the cars, only that the cars were very close to the enclosure and you know, a Maseratti is not a Jag. By stretching a bit (more), I could get 10 cm taller (without high heels, but with serious loans) this lifetime. Not the same with a Maserati.


Incidentally, I may have not told you yet, and this is the best occasion ever, to tell you a bit of trivia about my home town. There, some 120 km away from Bucharest, there was a pair of brothers whose father was a true petrolhead. So much that he named his sons... Maserati and (what else?!) Ferrari. No, I am not kidding. They were famous when I was in high school. Haven't heard anything about them in more than a decade. So no, I have no idea if they had little Porsches of their own.

And then, there was... rghini. Lambo-rghini. Neither shaken, nor stirred. I still wonder how this car did not get to be James Bond's. The only explanation I have is that it is not British.


We got to say "Hi" to a movie star. Hi, Shelby. You were the star in Gone in 60 seconds, not Nick Cage, not even Ange.


Last, but not least, the reason for which we drove to Frankfurt.

Which Scandinavian Experience could mean this:

Oy, where IS the steering wheel anyway?!

Or the fluid lines of the new Volvo S60:

But no, Scandinavian for us is...


The stand was more sparkly than the one they had in Geneva.

And I must say here that we only went because we were sent tickets to go see...


And here is the new 9-5.
I like the new rear. (I checked with the usual suspect and I am not wrong, this is indeed the new rear of the new 9-5. If you find any inadvertence is only due to the fact the hubs was not at home to double check.)


So, there it is. This is what we did last Tuesday. More photos, in case you want to see more cars, can be found on the flickr account.

For now, toodiloo.

Kat 101

Perhaps it's that time of the year when I try to list all things that I consider important, that could give someone a better glimpse into who I am, but honestly, I have been thinking about this post for quite some time, and now it is the time to do it.

I start from the presumptuous presumption that someone gives a flying darn about that. I also presumed that since the blog address is listed on the Facebook page, my friends would notice it. They don't.

Nevertheless, in random order:

1. I love my husband. Completely, utterly, madly in love with that guy! We are two of a kind. We are known to say the same thing at the same time, or finish each other's sentence, from the very first time we met. We think alike in most respects. We put each other first and God, that feels divine.

I used to think that people who define themselves through their relationships or children are looking for subterfuges to assert themselves, or so weak that they do not know who they are so they identify with common accomplishments in life. I now know that I was young and foolish. A successful relationship and children are not common. OK, maybe children are common, but they still can define the parent (some of them). Which is not always true the other way round.

I did not want to get a kitten, although I had more pets than hubby. He was the one who wanted a grey cat. We've got it. And boy! is Milo a handful... But in a good way. Mostly. :-)

2. I appreciate very much intelligence. For a long time I thought that being smart was the most important thing.

I have come to realise that I was wrong. Being kind is far more important. I am not talking about instances of kindness, I am talking about the deep-in-the-soul-rooted kindness, a defining quality in a human being, which, sadly, is so rare. It is way more common to be mean, even if it is just a reaction to the pettiness, stupidity and evil around us or happening to us. And despite being preached by all religions from the beginning of times, kindness is so often mistaken as simple-mindedness. I do believe that the world would be a far better place if we all were a bit more kind and a bit more polite. Manners are also considered old-fashioned, and they shouldn't.

3. I do not cry at movies. Usually. The only movies I cried at are

- The incredible journey Towards the end, when Shadow falls in the pit, I found myself in need of a Kleenex.
- Romeo + Juliet And no, it was not the plot, I knew how it ended beforehand. Baz Luhrmann is the director I like most, he blends classic with kitsch precisely to my taste. And Leonardo de Caprio IS a good actor, too bad he still has the loom of Titanic hanging over his shoulder. As for Clare Danes, this was the role of her life. I think she raised the bar for all Juliets to an unbelievable height. Rarely can one find a Juliet more youthfully sweet, yet sassy and knowledgeable in the matters of the heart. *
- M.A.S.H. : grant it, it's no movie, but it is a GREAT show, this episode, with the practical joker, makes me laugh every time I watch it (reason for which I watch it quite often); this episode, when Henry dies, never fails to get a sniffed sob out of me. I watched the entire series, I have it all on DVDs, I still cannot watch the last episode, when they all go home and it ends with Hawkeye in the chopper watching down at the beach, where B.J. wrote 'good bye'... (sniff). I am pathetic, really, I grow older and none the stronger.

4. I am in awe before Shakespeare and his genius. I also owe him my proficiency in English. And other life lessons, such as: if you lose, it does not make you a loser (a.k.a. Hamlet), or sometimes, only love is not enough (a.k.a. Romeo and Juliet); or owls are not what they seem (a.k.a. Othello); or don't be foolish, because life is cruel anyway (yes, that would be King Lear).

5. I read Harry Potter several times, and will most certainly do so in the future (as I do with books I like, re- and re-read them over and over). This is how writing should be (in my books, of course) - simple, yet complicated, heart-warming and wonderful. I find myself annoyed how many people disregard this series, considering it 'childish'. It may be addressed to children, but it is too simplistic to discard it this way. The wizarding world is a charming mélange of Arthurian themes, chivalric symbols, fundamental legends and myths, found in various forms in all corners of the world, the books deal with topics like coming of age before one's time and against one's will, death (and fear thereof) and dictatorship (or how to ignore something bad until it becomes unbearable). Whoever fails to see the magic in HP must have a on/off relationship with the child within and the magic that sets off the imagination. I do not hold people who do not like Harry Potter in contempt, I am just sorry for them for missing out on a great adventure and read. There are not so many long books which make you sad to have finished reading them.

6. I like to drive, but I am at my most irritable when driving. I cuss more and heavier than a proper lady should when driving. I also understand how it feels to cross the thin line between normalcy and road rage. The line I hear most often when I am driving is 'But you don't have to get so angry, really now'.
I have a lot of beefs with drivers and driving habits anywhere, e.g. (in no particular order):

- drivers who change lanes without signalling;
- tailgaters;
- drivers who speed up just to close in the gap when they see you signalling to change the lane;
- drivers who speed up, even though the red light is on, only to break with a screech within twice less the advisable distance;
- drives in old, beaten cars who zoom by on the fast lane with 10 km over the speed limit, because it is the only time when they can overtake.

I had two accidents, both of them 5 days apart, neither of them my fault (they both hit me in the rear). The car had to stay for an entire week in the shop to be repaired, because, surprisingly, two accidents do twice the damage, go figure! The boot was shrunk to the extent that the spare tire could no longer be taken out of it. Swell. The first time, the guy that hit me told me he had no idea what to do in case of accident. I believed him, even after the police told me that they chased him and only stopped after they fired their guns. He was stopped at gun point, but that does not mean that he knew the procedure to follow in case of minor accident.

7. I speak several foreign languages, one of them very well (En), some of them well (Fr and Sp), a couple basically (De, It), and I also understand some others, but only in their written form (Pt and Nl). I could be so much better at all of them, had I only the drive to expand my vocabulary and practice more... It's the only thing I am very good at, and which I thought would help me so much in life, and actually it does not, not at the moment or foreseeable future, anyway (in the getting a job perspective, I mean; otherwise, I think of myself quite entertaining in a multicultural milieu).**

8. I am a decent cook, but do not have the patience to whip up amazing, toiled over dishes. I comfort myself thinking that if only I would want to, I could. Until further proof, it shall remain as such. As for food, the only thing that I do not swallow easily is cauliflower, other than that, anything goes. Oh, and I love-love-love red fruits, berries of any kind being my all time favourite.

9. It is not difficult for my feathers to be rubbed up the wrong way (perhaps it is not unwise to read choleric, although that might be a bit of over-stretching). Luckily, those feathers are just figurative. The result of such activity is sometimes, nonetheless, obviously real. I resigned myself to believing that it is part of my hidden je ne sais quoi.

10. I love the roaring 20s. Love the fashion, love the music (up to the 50s, these are the three decades when good music, the kind that smooths your soul, was made on a constant and general basis), love the air and the social conduct and precepts. Nevertheless, I do not regret missing out and being born 5 decades later.

11. I wish I was slimmer. But I can't be bothered to actually do something in this respect. Complacency is the ruling word on this matter. Weight is not something that clouds my mind, although, according to certain voices, it should. But those voices never carry anything to far.

12. I used to smoke. I've smoked for some 13 years or even more. I do not know what I was thinking at the time. I quit this nasty habit 3 years ago. Gained some (heavy) weight. But I honestly think it is a fair trade.

13. I love board and card games. I was a redoubtable canasta player. Hélas, I haven't played in years. This is one respect in which hubby and I are completely complementary. He is unmoved by such endeavours. I still nurture the hope that maybe he was not exposed to the proper environment and is a talent waited to be discovered.

14. I love chocolate and am able to eat industrial quantities. Still, I must specify that only milk chocolate falls into this category. Dark chocolate is admissible only in combination with mint or in case it is the only sort available. White chocolate - don't bother showing up with THAT, I hate the stuff, can't stand it and am able to not touch it at all, even if otherwise I could murder (with a clean conscience, I might add) for sumtin ssweeeet.

15. I am very much into what could broadly be named pop culture or entertainment, i.e. show biz and celebrities populating it, movies, TV shows and series, actors, who was in what, whom were they linked with, when, what the show/media item they were featured in was about, trivia about movies that are hardly useful to understand the movies as such, and some other two pages I could tell you about this topic, only I think I'd better spare you the trouble. But, if you ever go on Who wants to be a millionaire and hit a question about an obscure (to you) name who did something in the movies/TV and still have the option to 'call a friend' - I am the person you want to call. I either know the answer or can get it in the 30 seconds alloted for the call (but frankly, I am pretty sure I know it and do not need to look it up). No kidding. I am very up to date with American (in and out Hollywood), British, I think I may have a say even about the French show biz and pipol.

16. I read. Daily. Books and online texts. I cannot fall asleep if I do not read. I enjoy biographies, 19th century literature (I still wait to be offered the complete Jane Austen books as a birthday present), sci-fi, thrillers, and practically anythings that I hear that mys be a good book, I read it. The only book I could not finish reading was Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted. (I keep postponing to go back to it.)

17. I also enjoy TV series. I am grateful that (finally) the TV producers realised that the concept of 'TV series' can be more than soap operas or 30-minutes sitcoms. I have reserved an entire other post for this topic, I am still working on it. But it is good. Wait till I finish it. You will see then what I mean by Trivial Pursuit overload at point 15.

18. I love Christmas time. The songs, the holiday smell floating in the air, the decorations, the songs (I want to make sure you are paying attention AND emphasize this point at the same time), the red and gold or blue and silver, everything except the commercialness shoved down consumers' throat by merciless profiteers. I agree to small, symbolic gifts, but that is all.

19.I can't think of anything else for the moment. I will come back with a later edit, if case may be.

20. I simply cannot live the list end at point 19. This simply cannot be! Because... I like symmetry, in practically all aspects of life. On my desk, there are things symmetrically placed left/right; when I eat, I like to use 'dosage' so that I can have an equal amount of food of everything until I finish eating (even if that means eating one pea at a time or eat a small fry in three bites); I like to walk inside one of the tiles which make up the pavement at a time, if that is not possible, than I like my foot to step precisely on the joint between the smaller tiles; I like my hair parted in the middle, although it is not the best look I can get, so I usually part it on one side, which has to be approximately the half of the half, that would be the quarter of the skull, and many other examples. It is not a science, it takes only a bit of getting used to, so that things can be done properly. People don't usually notice this about me, and when I mention this, they smile superiorly, thinking I only seek attention, which I am so not, it is only the OCD in me. You down with OCD***/ Yeah, you know me.




* - By the way (in case you did not know, I may brag about it), we are not told how old Romeo is, as for Juliet, she was two weeks short of 14 years of age when her father talked to her marriage with Paris, in the beginning of the play. That did not prevent her saying to Romeo that he kissed "by the book". Really, what books have you been reading, missy?!

That snide remark aside, contrary to the popular belief (namely that, at that time, marrying so young was a custom), actually motherhood before 18 was strongly frowned upon, precisely because it was too soon, and the average marriage age was between 20 and 20. Shakespeare may have on purpose made Juliet so young, but precocious, in order to give the play a sense of ominous inevitability and a "sense of a painful too-soonness" (a phrase I loved and remember since Uni).

** - This is the only thing I am good at, and yet I have huge areas where improvement is needed. This is not the perfectionist in me, it is simply a dimension of my personality which I still have to develop. Soon. -er better than later. Because it is really pathetic to say that the only thing you are good at is only half-way to its potential exploited. Ok, I will start tomorrow. Better on Monday. Or on the 1st of the month, when I also start exercising. Yep, 'atz a plan.

*** - Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is currently classified as an anxiety disorder marked by the recurrence of intrusive or disturbing thoughts, impulses, images or ideas (obsessions) accompanied by repeated attempts to suppress these thoughts through the performance of certain irrational and ritualistic behaviours or mental acts (compulsions).

OCD should not be confused with obsessive-compulsive personality disorder even though the two disorders have similar names. Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder is not characterized by the presence of obsessions and compulsions; rather, it is a lifelong pattern of insistence on control, orderliness, and perfection that begins no later than the early adult years. It is possible, however, for a person to have both disorders. Read more: http://www.minddisorders.com/Ob-Ps/Obsessive-compulsive-disorder.html#ixzz0QjpXVQYY

Looking for my wit's end... There it is! I'm at it.

I am so egocentric that I cannot write anything worth reading without getting too much personal info into that text. And I have reached the point where being the centre is no longer fun. I would like to 'right sumtin deep' having as subject a wonderful topic that is totally unrelated to me.

So, unable to do the 'rightin' thang', I will again deal with something personal.

I was absent for some time from this blog, due to events which were out of my control and which made me go through a quite vast array of emotions. Yes, I kept posting now and then, but my heart was really not into it. For example, I could have easily told you so much more and wittier about U2, but plainly it was not the right time.

First I was elated to get pregnant. Hopeful, day-dreaming, planning nursery and thinking about which school to choose, confident that 'this is it, my life is going to change forever'. I was right about the 'forever changed life', but not in the way I expected.

Then I was worried (and this feeling, I am afraid to say, has not left me yet, nor does it seem to. Soon. Or ever.). Things were not evolving as they should, yet I remained hopeful.

Afterwards, the world as I knew it came crashing down. I had a missed abortion at approximately 10 weeks. And yes, it is true, life would never be as I knew it before.

Cue enter 'dead inside' feeling. Which had two meanings, for a while there was something dead in me, and then there was the 'absent limb pain' that took over.

Despair, hopelessness, pointlessness, disappointment, failure, and an entire cohort of other such feelings that I am tired of remembering floored me.

Then I started to resurface from the cesspool of negative thinking. It is tiring to put up a happy face, but it pays off in the end, because it comes a time when it is no longer so difficult and you realise that it is getting better.

I am getting better. I will never be the same, I know, and where once I was fearless, now I am a very changed person, marred by crushed hope and worry. And I tend to rename 'pessimism' with 'realism', which is childish, I am not fooling anyone, not even myself, but I am trying to change that.

Now I feel best I have been in months. I can talk about our loss without crying, or getting teary-eyed, or chocking with sudden pain in my throat. It is not easy, but it is no longer that difficult.

Getting back to the land of hoping is another thing, though. I do not think I will ever be that bright-eyed as I was last April. I never realised how fragile life is. I knew it theoretically, but not emotionally, which is a whole different thing altogether. It is like knowing about 'love' as something fools rush into, and actually losing your head for a person who, although you know perfectly well is not perfect, is nonetheless perfect for you, and you find yourself able to do things you have never thought about before and notions such as self-humiliation or limits you impose yourself change every single day. Only that what I felt was the opposite of love. Or, to be more precise, it was not a fulfilled love, but an unrequited, forlorn and lost love.

Anyway. Time heals all wounds.

Wait, this is something I deeply do not agree with. Time wounds all heals, yes.

No, I think that time puts a crust on wounds that helps contain them, yes, but it does not heal. A scar does not mean a healed wound, it is a reminder of a wound.

But, since all things in life come with a counterpart, hence the duality of life, you know, day-night, good-bad, sad-happy, black-white (with the mention of a bazillion shades of gray in between them), yada-yada, even the darkest cloud in my life comes with a silver lining. I appreciate what I have more, my life, my love, the support and help I get without asking, and much more. It is nice and heart-warming. I think I'd better stop here, because no matter what I say or think about, I get teary-eyed.

So, since kid take #1 did not go as planned, we got a cat. At least this plan worked out fine. No, we are not replacing the kid with a cat. But the cat is a very welcome relief. Milo, 'cause that's his name, is a Russian Blue, one of the, if not THE, most loving, sweet and playful kittens in the world. Good training for when we do have kids for real, this one, as well, because it does test my patience at the most surprising of times. And I can't really do anything about it, it's a kitten who only knows how to play and for whom concepts of 'not on the table', 'don't chew my book', and so on, are simple invitations to play. He does help us (read me) relax more, he makes me laugh more (can't keep a straight face when seeing a cat chasing its own tail, or coming from the toilet with two drops of litter on its nose, or falling over from over-stretching in its sleep, too funny to watch, I am telling you).

Autumn is here. The August heat is almost gone and the rain can be smelled in the evening air. I love autumn and it has always been a very productive time of year for me. I get more things done in autumn, I read more, I learn better, I work more efficiently. I hope this autumn is going to be just as kind with me as it has been before.

I notice that I have only crap tags in this blog. Well, can't really be bothered to change that.

Now, I hope that I will come back soon(-ish) with more beefs. Because, let's face it, this is what I am best at.

This is what this blog lacked. A bit of a personal touch, isn't it?

Oh, and the title - yep, I reached one end of my wit. But thankfully, my wit is star-shaped (linear would be boring, so I like to think of it as star-shaped, it's comforting to know that you have more than one end), and now that I reached one end, I am coming back and trying to not reach another soon. The solution for my predicament is too evident to spell it out.

The music end of this post is a bit of Ol' Blue Eyes:

How do I love U2? Let me count the ways...

My personal history with U2 started when I was in the 9th grade. I was 15, I think. I remember the first U2 song I heard - it was "Pride (in the name of love)". Like with all U2 songs, I did not like it in the beginning. Then, I could not stop listening to it over and over. That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship over the years.

It has always been like this. First time I listened to a U2 song, I would think 'What in the name of Merlin's saggy bottoms have they come up with? How much not sober were they really?' And then, I start humming along. And then I start humming it without hearing it on the radio or whatever, just because it got stuck in my head. And in a good way. Always in a good way with U2. Which I interpret as a sign that I kind of like them.

I admit that U2's 'wanna do good' attitude is sometimes not that easy to swallow. I suspect that is because one might not expect preaching from entertainers, and also being told what to do, because this is of course good, almost instantly has as reaction the less reverential line ending invariably with 'off'. BUT, in these times in which selfishness is promoted as a virtue, and shallowness is a way of living, some moralising and reminding sympathetic ears that there are other things in life worth their time and putting their existence into perspective, like justice, greater good, the environment and poor people in remote corners of the world being exploited by ruthless profit making corporations. Due to U2, I have heard about governments like those ruling over Tibet and Myanmar who tell the entire world to sod off and keep on doing whatever they like, which in theory sounds great (name just one country who would not like to say that to the great US of A ...), but somehow, this is not all that right, is it now? Anyway, I am glad that someone takes time to do stuff like that. And yes, I have heard a zillion times that when you are rich, you can afford to preach eradicating poverty and profess charity, but this is normal, isn't it? When you are not content with your life and/or in need of vital things like food and shelter, the wellbeing of your neighbour hardly makes your priority list, doesn't it now? I'd rather listen to and follow Bono and his mates than that fart-head Liam Gallagher who trashes U2 and Coldplay for their charities and thinks he's better because he likes a 'bit of fun' and confesses he g sot high on some 1 million pound worth of drugs. Never ever liked that w**ker, even less, if possible, after he said that.

I digress, as usual.

What I like about U2 is that their music describes moments in life as you, me, them, anyone with a higher than two digits IQ can have. And since I am talking about how much I like them, I will continue in first person from now on.

I did things in the name of love, not sure where my pride was in all that, but after all that, it is still intact. I get stuck in a moment, more oft than not, and I can't get out of it, not by myself - ain't love the sweetest thing? I had at least one beautiful day, I walked on and keep doing it, I did find desire and ONE even better than the real thing to whom I can say 'All I want is you', I felt numb in a city of blinding lights where the streets have no name, I found out that sometimes you can't make it on your own, with or without you, been in a discotheque, known vertigo...

I like U2 because they are simple and yet oh, so complicated. Because they have put instances of truth into simple words, like 'nothing to win and nothing left to lose'. Because they are cool, and somehow get cooler with time. Because even though Bono is the definition of coolness, he still is not cool for his teenage kids, he is boring like any other dad. Because they reinvent themselves every time you think you have nailed them down to one genre. Because their music is not dateable. Because they don't get themselves too seriously while being rather serious about whatever they do. Because their music can make me laugh and cry. Because they give the most awesome, mind-blowing concerts.

I don't fancy myself going to sit up front, next to the stage, at any concert, not even a U2 concert. But I will most definitely go see them again next tour.

Few things that became even clearer during the latest holidays

Holidays are great, they are the best and largest excuses source ever for indulging oneself in things one normally would sorely try to resist temptation to yield to. So I will not bother my two readers with stories of scrumptious food and palate-tickling beverages, sun bathing, dolce farniente, and any other similar activity.

I will resume myself to listing some apparently trivial, yet not all that useless observations (especially for those slower with the synapsing thing).

1. Don't kick rocks. Willingly or not, kicking rocks, small or large, is a habit you should avoid. Walking with damaged toes is scarcely pleasant, and meddling with the metacarpals is hardly more gratifying.

2. People tend to be right especially if something not particularly pleasant is at stake. It is flattering when you are proven right after many have told you the opposite. Unfortunately, being right is not always pleasant, since 'truth' rarely is. Nevertheless, the ability to 'read' into happenings and people nicely butters up one's own self.

3. The conundrum of to tell or not to tell remains as such, a conundrum. If you tell people something personal, rarely will you receive the reaction you expect. Not telling and them finding out anyway equals secrecy and on purpose malevolence. No one ever thinks of the other in such occasion, only about how THEY THEMSELVES were affected (usually this is altogether pointless for the entire situation and participants but for the person in question).

4. Preaching does not mean actually doing what is preached. More precisely, too many preach tolerance while not being tolerant themselves. And God knows we DO need tolerance, from the small, insignificant matters to the huge ones.

5. People are NEVER satisfied with what they have. If it is cold, then they long for hot weather. But not too hot. When they do get it, they miss the familiar cold and claim to prefer it to the hot. This lasts until they actually do get it. Moment when they switch back to hot wanting again. Replace 'hot' and 'cold' with any other pair of antonyms and you have the accurate picture of the human psyche. Now, I'm gonna put on my warm socks, because the cold I was missing when I spent last week under scorching sun is starting to get to me.

Corollary: I do hope this helps humans progress, although the only progress I can fathom right now is in the whinging department.

6. Packing is messier than unpacking. I knoooow, this IS a surprise, but it is nevertheless true.

7. The source of platitudes never dries out. NEVER. :-)


On this note, dear two readers, I leave you to another classic of the Andrews Sisters, this time with Danny Kaye, which conveys number 5 better than I ever could. Civilization... I'll stay right here!

Talking to my hand

When I was younger, so much younger than today, I wanted very much a tattoo. Two cat paws on my back, I was sort of undecided exactly where, either on my shoulder or above the heinie. I have always hesitated. Thank God I did! I would have paid dearly to have it removed by now.

I got a second piercing in my left ear at 18, but I don't really regret it, it is not obvious and I still have some small earrings that I can still wear and they look alright, it doesn't give me a "bad girl" look - it's the tiniest of little holes, how can that give any look at all, you have to squint to see that there is an extra earring there.

Nowadays I see that the tattoos are more fashionable than ever. You can see them on all types of persons, and they are no longer considered repulsive, as they were during the times they were mere sailors accessories.

But I still thank God that I was chicken enough not to get one. That would have been one very permanent youth mistake for me.

I have noticed that among my friends there are very few who have tattoos, and those who have are not exactly on the weekly or monthly roster. Could it be that those who play together, stay together? I suspect so.

I also suspect that with age, the conservatory streak in me gets thicker. I wasn't all that wild to begin with. Continuing the plan with improving myself, I should add - increase the amount of tolerance to things I don't like or agree with. And perhaps letting my hair down more often, although this one is literally very uncomfortable. In the very literal sense, I have always hated the feel of hair on my face, even when I was a child or a teenager. I fancied hair-dos with bangs and hair partly covering my face, but I never had neither, I couldn't bring myself to it, the moment I feel hair on my face, I instantly tuck it behind my ears. This could also explain my expertise at plaiting hair. So, no hair down for me. I should find another synonymous phrase.

I realise this is a very useless post. To make it less so, let's enjoy some more music. The Andrew Sisters - absolutely adorable, singing Rum and Coca Cola. Love them both, the lovely trio and the tipsy-making and refreshing cocktail.

A better person

Everyone in life should struggle to become a better person, or at least this is what the moral precepts teach us. This endeavor is not at all times a successful one. And that is because in the human psyche one can find embedded the conception that we, as individuals, are pretty much as good as it can get, leaving not that much to improve.

One of the social conventions require us not to boast, and naturally, whatever we say is not necessarily true.

But from time to time, indiscernible to our perception, someone truly desires to become a better person.

And here I am, indiscernible to the rest of the world, wanting to become a better person. What would I like to improve then? Well, let's start with forgiving abilities.

I would really like to be able to forgive easily than I do. Fairness is very important to me, and I find forgiving the first time not that baffling. But, as it always happens, people err repeatedly - me included, I have no illusion of myself being perfect. The part I would like to improve concerns forgiving AFTER having already forgiven once.

I do sound elusive, in more than one sense, and I will try to clarify this further.

I am known for writing long letters and e-mails. This is because I like to keep in touch with people who are not within physical reach and because often I express myself better in writing, since I can refine the wording to make it less blunt or awkward as it comes out when I speak. What I would like to focus my attention on now is not the writing part, but the keeping in touch part.

I do not have many friends, but those I have, I want to keep in touch with them. And this means a two way communication. To my disappointment I have found myself in the position where I was the only one trying to maintain a friendship, while the others were too busy doing anything else but replying my attempts to, well, keep in touch. I do not mind being ignored, I do not need attention from everybody, but from a selected few. I enjoy being left to my own devices by everyone else, but I demand the modicum of attention from my friends.

Despite my being quite straightforward in all dealings in my life, I somehow not managed to make myself understood in this respect by a some dear friends.

One of them proved to be a very important disappointment for me, first because I thought we really connected and that our friendship was able to stand the test of distance, and second because we became friends later in my life, when I thought of myself as being much learned and capable of 'reading' people. To my surprise, she stopped writing and never attempted to get back in touch. I sent her an invitation on Facebook, but truly unintentional, since I sent an invite to my entire address book - I know, silly mistake, I sent invites to everyone I ever wrote to, including the consulate in Lyon and in Munich, the doctor and the cosmetician! Embarrassing indeed... Aaanyway, she is now among my friends on FB, but apart from sending me silly applications, she never sent me a WORD. Sad, isn't it?

Now, I realise that the more time passes (it has been more than a year and a half), the more things get simpler and the way to go back to a common ground is getting less reachable.

I would like to be a better person than I am now and be able to get back to being friends with this lady. I just can't and I do not know how could I possible do this.

But I already start to babble and this is not a wise thing. Perhaps I should concentrate on improving that as well...

I realise we humans are flawed and that perhaps this is what makes us interesting and worth the attention in general, but how can one tell if something in oneself can be improved or it is just so definitive that it would be easier to change spots on a leopard?

I wish I were better. But not really a Mighty, Mighty Man :-)



Yep, hubby is back to playing Fallout. Great game indeed.

Beefs again

I am really ticked off by great books printed in an impossible small font. These publishing houses must work closely with opticians, otherwise I cannot fathom the fascination for tiny letters on a tiny page.

Long time...

... not written.
But I managed to collect some beefs while I was away.
In no particular order:

- Germans have no idea of personal space. None whatsoever. They breathe down your neck whether you're queuing for coffee, the loo, to get on the tube or you're speeding 200 km/h on the highway. People, THIS IS ANNOYING!

- Another driving trick I do not get in Germany: why do they speed up when the light is obviously red? What is the use?! The breaking space get shorter and the risks of accident get higher. Germans usually plan their holidays two years ahead, still they have no foreseeing capacity to lift the foot from the gas pedal and hit with it the bloody breaks in time?

- Radios play silly music. Music nowadays is silly. Lady Gaga gets steadily on my nerves and I don't know if you have noticed, but in 'Poker face', there is an extra 'ma' in the second line of the chorus, or whatever that is, with 'my, my, my poker face', the second time there is an extra 'my/ma' that is definitely asymmetric and spoils the rhythm. Not that I care, but I am bothered by it every time it's on the radio. I tried switching the radio to another post, the bloody thing is too popular, it is practically impossible to miss it if one chooses to listen to the radio.

- In the same musical category: lyrics are either silly or depressing. If they are not silly, they are smart, and if they are smart, they are implicitly depressing. Happy and smart do not go together as far as lyrics are concerned. Which is depressing. Although my algorithm may not be all that smart. Perhaps because it does not rhyme.

- What's the use of paying 35 euros for private cable and have absolutely nothing worthy to watch on telly? How pathetic it is to zap all Friday night and end up blogging? This is pure rhetorical, I expect no answer.

- When you look for some recipe on the net, you find some with pictures, and you think they are helpful. They are not, because no matter what you do, whatever you are cooking will never look as the pictures posted with that recipe. I am not talking about the taste, I am talking about the looks. Yes, I have starting trying my hand at baking cookies.

- Wordpress is a bit cooler than blogger, but my biggest beefs with wordpress concern the font style and font, which are unchangeable and once you choose a theme, you are stuck with the puny little font that strains your eyes.

My crème brûlée must have cooled down by now.

Britain got talent AND some common sense left

I am an addict to "pop culture". Especially the televised one (here I include movies as well, because nowadays all cinema movies are often seen on TV not in cinema per se).
The accent in this addiction falls on British and American pop(ular) culture, with everything that is involved.
In other words, I know a LOT about who does what where on TV and in the movies and, by extension, in real life, because I believe there is a close connection between the character played in a movie and the actor.

Following closely the entertainment news, I am up to date with all the trash peddled by the tabloids. And here I must take a moment to vent about this issue.

Tabloids are the scum of the scum from the bottom of the human pond. They lie, cheat, lie and lie some more, making and more oft than not destroy lives of public figures and more importantly, they destroy the very fabric that makes journalism great. Have I mentioned just how much I abhor the lies mongered by the tabloids?! I particularly "enjoy" the pieces that start from the "truth" said by someone, i.e. the "journalist" harasses someone that is famous in order to get an "exclusive" statement - "Mr. X, Mr. X, tell us something!!" - 'Something!' says the poor depleted man; what do we read next, naturally labeled exclusive? Well, the entire story how the celebrity's marriage or relationship with a close relative hangs on a thread due to alcohol and drug abuse caused by... SOMETHING. Twisting words beyond recognition is a must for tabloids' survival. Vent over. For now.

I have so largely explained my liking for 'pop culture' and the extent to which I try to keep up with it in order to come to the point of this post.

Very few people outside UK knows who Jade Goody is and how she came to be known/famous. She was an ignorant (she thought Pistachio painted Mona Lisa), racist (she was thrown out of a Big Brother, can't and refuse to be bothered which one, for bullying an Indian contestant), strident, chav loud mouth. Last August, while taking part in yet another Big Brother, she was announced that she had got cervical cancer and needed treatment. Naturally, everything happened on the telly, how else?! She died this March. Everything was closely followed by TV and tabloids, from her hospital apointments, to her one-month-before-her-death wedding to her boyfriend who, you must know, had just been released from prison for having swung a golf club at someone else, injuring that someone pretty badly, and finally to her death and very public funerals.
What is very annoying is that the same tabloids who slanted her on each occasion, now turned her into no less than a saint ! Her funeral was compaired to that of Lady Di's !! The cheek of compairing such very oposite women !!! Even "serious" newspaper felt compelled to cover this story, not in extenso, but way too much and with too many details for their higly raised noses.

Another reason why this entire story should be not much publicised and Jane Goody should not be held in the public eye as the woman who raised the awareness on the cervical cancer issue is the fact that she died because she was such an ignorant twat! She had problems early on, which were discovered and treated thanks to a smear pap. Than, as if this experience came with a two-month shelf life, she ignored no more than TWO reminders following her cervical screening, which should have alarmed her, not lulled her into oblivion. How's fault is it then? Of course, it is a pitty that such a young person should die, it is a pity her two young boys are left without a mother, but frankly, she was no saint and she should not be treated as one!

Now, fianlly, after so many puke-inducing articles about how Goody inspired so many women to go get their overdue controls, I am very pleased to read this and this. FINALLY!!!

I will give The Book of Dave and its very fine print another try after all.
Will Self, Sir Parky, chapeau !

Dogs

I have always been more impressed and touched by sad stories involving dogs than by the ones involving humans. This is not a proof of my misanthropy, but one of my very soft spot for dogs. I love them. I think highly of any and every dog, which is certainly not a thing I can say about humans.

I have found this translation of Esenin's very touching poem about a bitch. (By the way, humans can transform even nice concepts into insults, can't they?!) Esenin knows how to really break a heart. Why everybody is disconsidering the Russians, I could never tell. They can reach depths of soul unknown and unsuspected before.

The reason I looked for this poem is because hubby told me about a doggie that seemed lost the other day in the S-bahn tunnel. It was a black poodle and had no tag and was looking disoriented, left and right, just like a human trying to recognise familiar places. It is said that it is a mistake to treat animals as human with feelings and the rest of the paraphernalia, but I am very against this stupid idea. First of all, I think animals do have feelings. Second, the humans are in general idiots and cannot be bothered to think for a second longer about anything else than their poor simple existence, so really, "popular" beliefs are not reliable source of wisdom. (Very few escape the mould of selfishness and end up altruistic, but this is rather an exception than a rule.) They should be so lucky to have the loyalty and unconditional love some animals prove for their masters, despite the despicable behaviour of the latter. Aaanyway...

I hope the poor poodle found his way back home and he is no longer out in the cold and snow.

I love dogs. I wish I could help them all have a good life and be taken care of. I wish I could make them feel loved. They do deserve a lot more than they actually get.
I hope the weather gets better soon, it seems the cold and gray affects a bit my mood.

NB - the translation is not exactly the best ever. I think the Romanian one was better. Oh, well...

Movies

I think The Wrestler can make just about anyone feel better about their lives, with the exception, perhaps, of his fellow washed-up wrestlers. I really have mixed feelings about this one. A wasted life always makes me like that. I am not sure about the quality of the image and sound either.

And what about the cast and crew thanking Axl Rose for donating the right to use Sweet Child o' Mine?! I love GNR, both Use Your Illusion albums still stand rock solid, but frankly, Axl cannot be a bigger has-been. Just like Mickey Rourke. God! I am puzzled by the fact how we all start with virtually the same chances in life, and still a lot manage to mess up royally. When we are kids, we all look bright and bubbly and promise to be great, and something happens on the way to greatness and many are detoured. I find it even more heart-breaking when grown-ups manage to have it all and lose just because they can.

From this year's Oscar competitors, Frost/Nixon still remains the best in my book. Still have to see Slumdog, but I doubt it's that good, it won an Oscar after all, didn't it?