traduttore traditore

Soul cleansing

2011-11-24T09:38:00.000Z

I have tried to sleep on it, to eat rubbish food to make myself feel better, and I will try today to focus on basketball in its purest essence to try to get rid of this horrible feeling I have. But I know that somehow it will come back to me and every time I recollect Wednesday, I will feel like crap.

I am a referee, that is why I hate those players who say "we lost because of [...]" and the continuation of that sentence is not "ourselves" or "our own mistakes". So I hate having the feeling that we were absolutely robbed blind. No one wanted to say it last night, neither did I, but it is just what it is. I understand now what I heard about my own performance in the corridors of the Stevie the other night - it was all meant to be. Somebody that football tackles someone on a basketball court is inadmissible. And yet here we are. The more I think about it, the worst I feel. I try to point at our mistakes, which were many, but we had a shot at winning the game if it had been just a tiny bit fairer. I think that maybe, if I write this stuff down, it will help my rage. So far it is not working, but I need to do it. I need to get it out of my system, because I had a horrible weekend in which my life was made so much more difficult by inadequate table officials, screaming liver-eating coaches, annoting players and a turtle-neck co-official. And since I can't write that stuff down, at least I can write this.

I hope my bruises will let me move around today. But I have a potential pulled thing muscle due to the football tackle, and that is only the beginning.

Aaaaaaargh! Fuck off!

if I stop for a minute

2011-10-05T11:42:00.000+01:00

But if I stop for a minute,
I think about things I really don't wanna know...

Quoting Keane, what I would add is that I do not have time to stop for a minute. This thing I'm writing right now has the intention of reminding me that I am no longer in a position to complain. For two years I've been banging my head against the wall saying "nothing happens to me, I am so bored" and all of a sudden, bang!, everything is happening. Eveyrthing is happening in the shape of university work. I am not sure where I am going with it (the reading seminars are very interesting but at the same time very 'esoteric' in terms of scope and objectives), but at least it is going somewhere. Wednesdays have become the day from absolute hell, as not only I have the 'development class' (for which I have been writing an average of 1,000 words in the last three weeks, take that!), but also imply at least two ball games, plus an extra class that does not give me any credits. My stomach is suffering the consequences and I feel I am hungry all the time cause I can't find a proper eating pattern. For some reason, I starve from half 11, and then my day becomes insanely long. I have no time to work at nights and I can't find any concentration when at home, even if alone. Fridays are a torture because I have no classes, so my body says "woohoo, lie in!" but my mind pushes me to do something - and I should be doing something, but I haven't managed to get rid of that lazy spirit that still has such a power over me. It's week 3, and the conjunction of this weekend plus the rest of the week and the start of next will be a definitive opportunity to get rid of all this silly feelings. I guess I just don't want to see myself as the lazy person that I think deep down I am. Maybe starting a proper five-a-day diet will be the key to success. LOL.

And if I stop for a minute,
I think about things I really don't wanna know.
But I'm the first to admit it,
without you I'm a liner stranded in an ice flow.

My life throught linguistics

2011-09-23T10:14:00.005+01:00

My name is Noemí Llamas Gomez. Originally no hyphens, although I have adopted one in between my two traditionally Spanish surnames as means to reduce the amount of people who think that Llamas is my second name. Gómez is my mother’s surname. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but when I am cool and famous, I want people to know that I am Llamas Gómez, or Llamas-Gómez, a bit like García Marquez or Vargas Llosa.

I was born in Barcelona in 1986. I have never lived in the big city though, I am a suburb girl. We lived in a small city called Sant Boi de Llobregat, just 20 minutes away from the city centre in the subway. My family speaks Spanish. It used to be five of us in the flat before I moved out: my parents, my younger sister Marta, born in 91, and my grandmother. I am the second generation in my family to be born in Catalonia. My grandparents were all from the south of Spain, mainly Andalusia. They emigrated to Catalonia in the sixties, when the industrial revolution was kicking in Barcelona, and a large amount of factories were built. The flat I lived in was originally built as a council building, as well as the rest of the neighbourhood. There were barely any shops apart from the local supermarket when I was younger – it was built to be a sleeping neighbourhood.

Despite being a Catalan by birth, I never learnt Catalan from my parents, as they do not speak the language. Only in recent times, my dad has made an effort to learn some, and he can communicate with Catalan speakers very well, thanks not only to his passive Catalan knowledge, but to his outgoing spirit and his social skills. My mom, on the other hand, can’t stand it. She gets nervous when the Catalan channel (TV3 or C-33) is on, because she has a hard time understanding what it’s said, and, as she argues, “watching TV should require no effort or concentration at all”. To fill you in slightly on why my parents do not speak Catalan, I need to quickly remind you that Spain was for 40 years under the dictatorship of General Franco, who was not a fan of what was not 100% Spanish. Catalan was banned from the public life and restricted to private and home use. High fines, discrimination, police abuse and even prison threats kept population “under control” – hence schools taught in Spanish only. Since none of my parents came from a Catalan family, Catalan was not known or spoken at their house, so they never learnt it, and knew nothing about it until 1975, after Franco’s death and when Catalonia recovered their national rights.

I learnt Catalan at school. After the Spanish-dominant dictatorship, the Catalan government was granted the possibility of establishing its own model of education – based on the fact that, during the “transition to democracy” years, loads of concessions were made to all the diametrically opposite political parties, in order for them to agree in the democratic terms of the new constitution. Studies showed that the new generations (in 1978) did not have the right knowledge of Catalan, and a model based on positive discrimination of the language that was banned from public speech for almost half a century came in place. All subjects in school, besides Spanish language and literature, were to be taught in Catalan. So I spoke my mother’s language, Spanish, as a monolingual person until I was about four, and then I was introduced to Catalan. My earlier exposure was next to nothing until then, given that at my household, the Catalan TV channels were never in fashion. I, however, do not have any recollections of a pre-Catalan learning time, when all my life was dealt with in Spanish. As far as I remember, I have always being “bilingual”.

Learning Catalan at such young age helps kids develop quite a good grasp of the language, independently from the language they speak at home. That was my case. All day in school speaking in Catalan to teachers, talking to my friends in Spanish, and then going home and watching the news or reading the papers in Spanish. I never had a computer until I was 17, so the language in which I browsed the Internet does not apply here. Actually, I believe that I have probably had, along the years, visited more websites in English than in any other language combined. I never had any issues understanding people in any of the two languages, and I have the same level of oral understanding of Catalan as I do with Spanish. The same happens with reading. Actually, and because of my mainly Catalan schooling, it is easier for me to understand textual units written in Catalan – or to explain history or literature matters, for example, because that is the way that these concepts are “saved in my system”.

When it comes to communicating and speaking out, the issue is much different. Spanish has always been the language spoken at my house, to all my family members (despite my cousin, the only boy of my generation, to whom we always spoke to in Catalan because my aunt so wished), and I’ve always had the feeling that it was the language I was most skilled in. It is, after all, my “mother tongue”. However, at the same time, I feel that, as a Catalan, Catalan is the language I should be speaking, as it is part of my national identity.

For that purpose, after leaving secondary school and going to prepare my pre-university high school years, I made a lot of emphasis in improving all the concepts that were wrong in my Catalan – such as grammar, Spanish-copied expressions, writing style... It got to the point that I needed to delete my Spanish accent when speaking Catalan. Despite having been the suppressed nation for so long, Catalan does have some over-nationalistic traits that can be a bit discriminating towards non-Catalan born speakers. I always felt a bit excluded in my basketball team as a kid because I went to a different school to play, a school where all kids were from Catalan-speaking families. My accent, my origin (I was from the poor neighbourhood, this was a private school) and my reluctance to speak Catalan to them (because I was afraid they would make fun of me) condemned me to a strange degree of isolation. Only three things saved me from quitting then: my social skills, my basketball skills (ironically, I was the best in the team), and my love for the game. This discrimination got under my skin as a kid, and it was still present when I accessed university. I took all the positive steps to speak the best Catalan I could... by not speaking any. My attitude to it was just to suppress it, in order not to be classified as a “Spanish person speaking Catalan”.

The good part from these years in university in Spain were that I managed to develop a very curious language pattern with most of my classmates. We agreed, without even speaking, that everyone would express themselves in the language they felt most comfortable with (this often included having some expressions in English, Italian, French, etc to spice up and add some banter to the conversation), but not changing the language their interlocutor was speaking. This has an explanation: there is a study run in Catalonia a few years ago that said that the Catalan speaker is so culturally weak, or polite for that matter, that when he or she is addressed by someone else in Spanish, they will speak Spanish, but that if a Spanish speaker is addressed by someone in Catalan, the Spanish speaker will continue to speak Spanish while the Catalan, out of politeness, or weakness, will switch to Spanish as well. We, as linguists, and future translators, did not believe in weak languages, so we spoke in whichever language we wished, without having to change it. This seemed most impressive to some of our professors then, especially to our Catalan to Spanish Translation teacher, who had had to battle this problem for a long time. As I heard from a reliable source, she was most impressed with my abilities to speak and translate Catalan to Spanish and viceversa “for such a strong Spanish speaker”.

This then, makes me think about what I consider to be my mother tongue and how has that affected me and my sense of identity and cultural belonging. I have always felt a Catalan, but that does not exclude feeling like a Spaniard. After all, and despite it being a bit of a politically correct argument, Catalonia is in Spain and belongs to the country, whether we like it or not. I have never felt truly bilingual despite all my efforts to close the gap and the closest I’ve been to it was in my early twenties, right before coming to study in the UK, and even then I had the feeling I was a 55/45. Now my ratio varies from 60/40 to 70/30, given I only even speak Catalan to the Catalan teachers in university, or when I go back, to people in the shops or in the street, as friends and family speak to me in Spanish. This lack of Catalan practice and my accidental learning of Italian made my spoken Catalan prone to a premature death, but after a very embarrassing incident in a conversation with my old history of art teacher, who is a Catalan nationalist and romantic, and in which I kept saying Italian words by mistake, I took it more seriously to keep my identity language alive. Now I still feel a bit embarrassed about the fact that I don’t speak it as well as I would like to, but I now value much more the actual effort to speak the language rather than the quality or purity of it. I have not given up on it, and I hope she hasn’t given up on me either. Only time will tell.

Wake me up when September ends

2011-09-08T18:20:00.000+01:00

I love the smell of brand new stationery and of new diaries and the rush of the start of a new university year (especially after the long wait for it) but this year, even September is too much for me. It's in the way. It's annoying. It's irrelevant. Not knowing what to do or where to start from. I have again too much time in my hands and not a single collaboration from the people I need it from - the IT services, which took over a week to solve my MyCampus issues, the HM R&C, you know them already, the National League not starting, uni still pendant... Useless.

Thankfully I have been working like an absolute cow in the past 10 days and after two days off, I'm back at it tomorrow, to hopefully get some more shifts for this weekend and next. I have already some scheduled games and meetings at university, which is good. It gives me something to look forward to. But until those moments come and I am officially back at university, I am gonna be wishing that there's a fast forward button. I can no longer wait.

Guilty

2011-08-26T11:48:00.000+01:00

For many reasons, but mainly guilty, and without justification. So much preparation and now, 24 hours before, I am thinking "I should have done so much better". Re-reading the rules in an attempt to grasp the last meaning of things. Knowing that I could have done something for that too, but it is not what worries me at all.

What worries me is two months of preparation, down the drain because of 10 splendid holiday days. One day running only. One or two kilos of extra baggage. And the feeling that a lot of my work might be lost if, in the end, I don't manage to reach the objective. There are many things I cannot change. I cannot make my lungs grow bigger or be taller with a spell. It is irritating tho, that after working so hard towards something I firmly believed I could reach, it now seems more unattainable than ever. I feel very underprepared and in a way, nervous. I need to face this next 24 hours with a bit more of confidence, otherwise I am widely screwed. Thinking I can't will make me fail.

This is finally the moment to show that I am strong and that I can do it. If mentally strenght wasn't worked out properly after sprinting past the Exhibition Centre bridge, it is now when I have to pull it off.

22 hours and counting.

Nostalgia

2011-08-08T23:38:00.000+01:00

Nostalgia is described as reminiscence of the good memories of good past life. It is always viewed under a negative light, as it is our mental projection of the things we can only positively recollect directly confronted to our current reality, which we tend to see as lacking something or missing pieces. To sum up, is to recall with deep passion what you can no longer have, memories that for one reason or another, no longer can be relived.

I don't see nostalgia in bad terms. Maybe because I don't feel bad about past things that have happened to me, or that I don't feel that "the best of my life has passed". What would living be worth for? We might as well jump off a cliff, or a bridge, if we thing that the best is gone and only the worst is to come. That's when I have these very vivid reminiscences of my past when I'm in the shower, or going for a run, or after some word triggers something in my head... I don't think "remember that? I wish I could live it again" because I don't. Not even the best times, I don't want to live them again. I want new good times and new bad times, and everything coming up like I've never witnessed it before. That's what I like. The same situation cannot happen twice, like a man cannot bathe himself twice in the same waters of the river (or of the sea, or the shower for that matter).

Let life flow, and flow with it. Nostalgia is only a heavy stone that most people carry in their minds and makes life so hard for them. As I've always said, I prefer to think of problems and bad experiences as hailstones: heavy at first, but then melting at some point.

You can clearly see I am working hard on my mental strenght hehe. I just hope the bleep test trials would say the same! Paha!

Beep!

2011-08-02T10:57:00.001+01:00

Tomorrow is the first of August, meaning yay oh yay, July is over! Ha!

Right, I started writing that post a couple of days ago and today is already the 2nd of August. We are moving in the right direction.

I am writingnow because in normal circumstances, and despite the rainy weather outside, I would be running at this time of the day. However I feel very hormonal, I just too an Ibuprofen cause I feel very swollen and I know I am PMSing, if not inminently, so I'm not sure I should be running right now, under the risk of injury, tiredness or of rendering the rest of the day useless due to body aches and other random crap related. I wanted to badly to start doing some extra stuff for my physical conditioning that feeling like this makes me feel absolutely shite.

I am naturally a deranged person, so what I had in mind was, and still is, to take a bleep test everyday (two if necessary), to start improving my resistance to the Multi-Stage Fitness Test (from now on, abbreviated MSFT). It is very crazy, but it is achievable, and I think in a way it is the only way to assess what is actually happening with me in terms of fitness. Running up and down hills and crossing bridges and all that crap is fine, even doing series of sprints is fine, but you never know how fit you actually are until you put it to the test. to take as an example, I took the test two days ago and scored 9.2, which is okay for just now, and it is 1.2. more than I am supposed to do in 25 days' time, but I want so badly to get to level 10, that scoring only 9.2 sounds just terrible right now. In all fairness, I did not push myself too much, I felt the first discomforts and stopped, so if it had been the real deal, I could have probably pushed it to 9.5, maybe, but that means I am still over half a level short. I need to get over 10 to actually make sure that I am not going to die or fall short the day of the actual test.

I have also prepared some hill sprinting sessions - something like 10 minutes to start with, and then we'll see if they are working or not. Hill sprinting is apparently an absolute killer, however it is a very good method to improve speed and VO2 max, which in the end is the actual point of the MSFT (I should call it "misfit"). So hopefully, in the next few hours, the painkillers would have made an effect and I can jump into, at least, my compulsory run of the day. I am actually about to update my zones, so it is a bit more difficult for me to achieve the results. I am pushing myself a bit much, I am aware, but only by being out of the comfort zone you can improve. And it's great to develop mental toughness.

Now I'm off to get some work for tonight and tomorrow done, otherwise my legs will be soon stronger than my brain - or my wallet for that matter!

Telephone

2011-07-26T10:22:00.000+01:00

I have never had a good, polite telephone manner, and that has always been my achilles heel when applying for serious secretary or bank-related jobs, as I am terrified of having to speak to people on that machine, especially to people that I don't know and that hold important jobs. I am just not good, full stop. Today, however, I feel like I have won over the circumstances, just like I felt on my first birthday in Glasgow, when I was all by myself: I felt proud because I managed to pick up the phone and chat to the TV licensing people, to tell them to stop harrassing us with letters as we did not have a TV in the house. It's pretty much the same thing, only this call was for the HM Revenue & Customs, and this is about a refund they quickly aknowledged and accepted to pay (hoho!), once I knew what was wrong - I had an emergency tax code. It is amazing what the human being (myself) can learn, despite knowing bananas about a thing, when it comes to survival or to money refund. It took me a good half an hour, that's true, but now I know my stuff. A bit like with the TV licensing laws, that I can almost recite by heart (I would make a good helpline advisor haha).

In any case, good for me. HMRC are going to pay for a fair chunk of my degree (in most honesty, it's money that I earned fair and square, so it's me paying, not them), and another week (hopefully two) at the Riverside will make it all look easy. I'm very much chuffed. I am a big girl, finally.

Day off recap

2011-07-25T23:26:00.000+01:00

Days off are like New Years' Eve this summer - after so many days waiting for them (particularly SEVEN this last time!) it feels like it's necessary to a) disconnect, b) relax, c) be productive and carry all required errands and d) have fun. That's a hell of a lot of things to expect from just one day, so I think it's normal that days off do not completely match our (my) expectations. However today I feel I did a bit of everything.

I disconnected, by going for an amazing run, which saw me covering almost 5km in 30 minutes with this new season prep fitness plan that I have sorted out - and a more reasonable training schedule than before, asking for me to do an effort 3 times a week. Most of the sessions are between 25 and 30 minutes long and I skipped "Level 2" programme because I think I am were Level 3 requires, that is to say, ready to get into game pace. It was nice to see I am fit enough to start and very ready to face the challenge.

I relaxed, as I slept till 10am, something I rarely do. I have got to the conclusion that maybe my body can't sleep like I used to, and that waking up at 8.30 is good as I can enjoy the days for longer and use my mornings to read the paper, interact a bit and do some study or reseach. But sleeping today was great.

I was productive as I went by the agency to drop my timesheets from last week. I really cannot wait for Friday now, as I want to see my deductions and stuff, and let's face it, I worked shitloads of hours, I am feeling greedy about the amount of gold I'm gonna get hehe. Also cause I found out today that they will reimburse the money I pay for my masters with the scholarship, but not fund me straight away, meaning I will have to pay the cash upfront and then they will give it back to me. That's dead easy for them to say, because they have the money. I need to ask this very nice secretary lady, as I also need some concluding dates for my registration.

And I had fun, as I went for walks up and down, enjoyed the sun today, and the great company, and I went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 again, but this time in 3D. Plus it only costed me £7 at the Grosvenor! Lovely cinema! Me thinks I will be going back to it in the future for way more sessions now that I'm gonna be a student again soon. Yay!

I know I could have been way more productive today, but I also prepared a lesson and delivered it to the guys, and I managed to clear my mind from work-related rubbish and I feel so much better and ready for quite a lot of work more! The week tipped off really well, let's keep it rolling!

Ps. It's great to be thin for no reason (49.2kg, are you kidding me?) and so fit that it looks so good again for no reason. Specially when your girlfriend feels giddy about it :D

Speed

2011-07-23T10:33:00.000+01:00

This is going to be again a positive post and it's going to record the random mini-objectives that I am obtaining and my trains of thought for the time being. However this seems terribly futile when the first thing that comes up when opening my news browser today is the tragedy in Norway. My deepest condolences to the families and friends of the victims, and a cry out loud to condemn every sort of violence or terrorism. This is a pray for peace.

Then, well, yesterday I was so sure that I'd be off one of the days of this weekend that I didn't even thought it'd be possible for me not to have a rest. But oh well. I am not complaining, mind that, but I could reaaally do with some time off - not because I feel it's too much, but because even when I work 4 hours, my mind is clouded with thoughts about work when I'm not there. For example, it's one and a half hours to go and I am sitting around in my flat, thinking "I have to be there by 4". Hopefully I'll be the food runner today and have to deal minimally with annoying people.

In any case, I am glad because yesterday's run was very very positive. I managed to stay in the yellow zones perfectly and build the speed and base that the work out required. I am not running today before work again tho, because I think I need to have more of a technical approach - I am currently studying some post play situations, and I'll be moving into zone defenses and their pitfalls. I realise that this sounds awfully technical, but I think I have really clicked on the geeky button that I had lost since immemoral times. Let me explain. I was a geek, an antisocial creepy geek, in my teen years and all the way into university. Now when I got there, I realised that there were far better priorities, and my input balance kinda got lost. The result was mediocre results in university in Spain, then a semi decent, but still crap, year out in Glasgow. I managed to bring some of it back (and the cause of this was a heart break, believe me) and get a First Class degree, but this was two years ago, and in these last 24 months I have barely felt like a student, despite my efforts to be one. Now I have found something motivating enough to keep me tuned both mentally and physically, and it's something that will cook over the next 5 weeks and visible results will be tested by the end of August, and by extension through the rest of the season.

I am ready to take the challenge. Indirectly, I have to make a list of basketball-playing related aims. It would be unfair for me to only develop a part of who I am. Oh, and a second fitness plan is on the way and starting very soon...

Ps. Training back in a week - yay!

Positive thoughts

2011-07-22T10:17:00.000+01:00

I am in a good mood right now. This might be spoiled by the things I have to do today, say go to work, go to the letting agency and send a cheque (which normally shouldn't bother anyone, but you know, it's money that it's goin away hehe) and also finding out about next week's shifts. That for once. But right now I'm staying positive because I completed a very nice work out yesterday, I'm gonna do 2 today (one of them in about 30mins from now), it's friday so I'm getting paid and I'm only working 4 hours and potentially I will be off tomorrow or Sunday and I feel fit. Oh, and I was reading some articles last night that also gave me strenght. A sacrifice, yet something that I love doing.

After the run, hopefully, I will start with a brainstorm of practical ideas around the dissertation for next year. It's still many months away, but I don't want lo look back in say March or April and think "fuck's sake, I wasted my entire July on non-sense". Let's be practical, above all.

Brain cells feel much more alive after this great week. We're getting somewhere :D

Pre-season tip off

2011-07-21T10:33:00.000+01:00

I think I am safe to say that I can start the pre-season straight away and not look like an absolute fanny for saying that. Before, it was just too far apart to be able to call it pre-season, and it was more of "an in-between pass time procrastinating effort". However now I think I can really start off, and there are some reasons behind this decision.

It's 21st of July today, and both (this is going to sound ridiculously stupid) Real Madrid and Barcelona have already started their pre-seasons. It is a signal, in a way, because my basketball season ended on the 31st of March this year, and my officiating one ended just 3 weeks ago. The real season, however, ended after the cup finals on the first week of May, just like the football season (sort of), so I think this is one of the factors.

Second, I have absolutely nothing to occupy my mind with, and I'm losing braincells as we speak. That is no news, but I'd like to begin a stimulative activity for my brain, and I think some review of the rules, study and video/DVD watching will help with that. In the meantime I also have students, so I should be all right.

Third, I have been reading articles from the FIBA referees corner that have really made me feel the bug for refereeing again. Hence having something that really interests me in sight makes me want to work out even more.

Fourth, let's face it, having lost weight helps a lot in this. And I want to make sure that this loss does not go in vain because I could really use its effects to help me with muscle-building and other stuff. This time I can have a different diet than just the low-fat one.

Fifth, it's five weeks til the pre-season seminar, hence 6 to 8 weeks to the start of the season. I think it's time to push the buttons a little. I have prepared my last 8 basketball mantainance fitness programme sessions for the next 4 days, meaning that this could be the start of the new programme. It sounds a bit crazy, but I am at a bit of a dead point with the fitness plan and I really need to push myself to see if I'm really fit or this is all a product of my imagination or of miCoach.

Tonight, it all tips off. In style. Oh yeah!

July dread

2011-07-18T23:48:00.000+01:00

I have a confession to make: I hate July. And August a bit as well, but July specially. I think it is because I don't have a proper occupation, hence I don't associate July to anything but working like hell, being too hot or too wet and a lot of waiting around. That is what it is. Absoulte boring piss.

The only good thing about July this year has been Harry Potter. Also the Riverside, of course, but to be fair, and as much as I appreciate the favour they're doing to me, it is still work and work is boring to a certain point. Except for today, where I saw a bottle of double cream explode in front of my feet and I had to clean a white pool all covered in dairy. I got oer it soon enough, and switched to something else but I still had the terrible feeling of having screwed up... You never know with these people.

I hate summer like I hate Christmas time. I am the worst scrooge ever, I think. But, I also have to say, I really like being busy. Yes, I am weird like that. So let's cut it out and get going, July.

Liar, liar, pants on fire

2011-07-14T09:37:00.000+01:00

I have the writting bug, partially because I have been thinking for a long time and not writing, and partially because yesterday I bought an ASUS 1015px netbook and I am pushing myself to write more and start using the new "baby" as soon as possible. I ordered it online, tho, because it was £20 cheaper (from the same seller, Currys PC), so I'm going to have to wait for another good couple of days (I think it will arrive on Monday). So I am unleashing my writing urges, and last night I wrote a thousand word report about this year's basketball officiating season and what I want to achieve in 2012. It sounds very geeky but it is really helpful, as I can see my development visually. And things are getting very serious now (about officiating), so I need to look and seem even more professional - and I think this report approaches me to it.

In other things, I think the netbook is the first investment towards the business and university, as what I think that's going to happen next season is that I'm gonna be on the go quite often (last year counted trips to Arbroath, Stirling (countless of times), Falkirk, Troon, although not Edinburgh, due to snow cancellation) and I can't stop for a minute, because I still need to write or read, or even worse, study. Kudos for university. Next week I will test the efficiency of the netbook when giving lessons, as I think that the small screen might be a slight problem in some cases, but I really need to travel with something lighter, as my whole body suffers when carrying the heavy laptop. I feel like a kid with new shoes that have yet to be picked up from the store, as I have been craving for a netbook since they awarded me the university scholarship, something like a month ago. It is a bit of a "I want it now!!" kind of feeling.

As for everything else, yesterday was a shit day at work because I was blamed for things that I didn't do. I, however, find consolation on the fact that, if I was "just an agency person", they would scold me in a different way, or they wouldn't scold me at all, but the way they behaved towards me indicates "belonging". I find it a bit stupid and way too bitchy the way certain people speak to the rest of us, and the atmosphere is getting weirder, if it wasn't for the fact that I really enjoy the job and that I feel productive with something that gives me quite a good revenue. It's been a really good couple of weeks and I'm not going to let them be ruined by a terrible day out there. And next time I have a chance to scold the people at the kitchen, I will - after all they did tell a big fat lie about me, and that is quite unacceptable.

And last, but not least, I am under 50kgs now, without even trying! I have not been on a proper diet forever, and yet have lost the three kilos I needed, just by working at the cafe - chaching! 49.7kg, with almost 60% body water and 20.7% fat mass. Now I have to reduce that by say 3 or 4% for next year, but it is a really good start! Keep up the good work! :D

Ps. Haircut was LONG overdue... thank God!

Shaky markets

2011-07-12T10:20:00.001+01:00

So I've heard we are doomed? Spain and Italy fighting for life while the pressure on their debt goes higher and higher. Three or four days ago this wasn't like this, what has changed? All I can find in the news is that the second Greek rescue and the growing pressure on Italy are dragging Spain down with them. But I wondered, I thought Italy was never going to fall? However our friend Silvio had a personal row with his finance minister and there we go, Italy is in a pick now, and by side-effect, so is Spain? I really don't understand shit.

I would like to, but I can't. Bankers, wankers, or whatever... I saw a small documentary film about where the money from the USA banks comes from and it was sort of scary. Maybe that's it, maybe banks have no longer money and we are to pay for it. Then whose fault is it? Like the real fault? Why don't they come out?

I'm afraid about Spain. Not for the country in itself, cause I couldn't give a shit about it, but for the people I love that live there, starting with my family. I try to chill by observing Soph. Her country has already busted (twice) and she takes it easy, there's nothing much to it. Her parents are taking precautions in this estate of things, but I still can't figure out what would I do if Spain does bust and I am granted (or doomed) to have the responsibility to help my family straight away. Not because I don't want to, but because I don't have the means. We shall see. Maybe it's not the end of the world, but just a slight, hurting, reality check.

What would really help is Mr Berlusconi keeping his mouth shut and limit himself to his orgies rather than to fuck about more than he necessarily needs to. We'd all thank him very much.

PS. Loads of things to do - day off, I love you :D

Shining

2011-07-06T10:43:00.000+01:00

24 hours later, the world already feels like a better place to live in.

24 hours and, of course, something like £150 spent in Ikea, Salvation Army and Morrisons. New day, new life, everything is shining but the weather. But we didn't expect better. It would be much better, of course, if I didn't feel uneasy about the future of the next couple of weeks and if I had a better defined mental purpose, but of course I knew this was going to be like this, and there's nothing much I can do about it.

Well yes, jump into Gumtree, again, as I normally do. It's weird how things can change from a moment to the other. I need to speak to certain important people in the next couple of days - it is of vital importance. Then we shall see. I'm a bit stressed up about it, but I'm going to try my best. After all, there is a certain goal I need to reach, and it does not lie that far away from here.

Let's keep up the good work! Yay!

Btw, I just love this pic.

Like Christmas day

2011-07-05T09:49:00.000+01:00

This morning feels like Christmas morning, with the slight difference that instead of presents, Santa has left a note in the shape of Greek stand-up comedy. And that was it, an anger note coming from the Greek philosopher, who called me "the Spaniard" in the same way that the British intended it (as an abbreviation of "Spanish bastard") and slagged me for my rude manners (oh dear!) and like a genius oracle, congratulated himself on his guess that my personality will ruin the beautiful relationship that Soph and I share.

Absolute bollocks of course.

It's fairly obvious that he who feels he owns reason shall try to drag everyone who has tried to spot his spotless record down to the mud with him in his last chance. I really couldn't give a bigger shit. When I was being read the note, that of course was all in Greek so Soph had a chance not to show to me (cause hey, that is not rude!), I felt like I couldn't laugh harder.

All I will say, in reply, is that I am so gutted that I can't be a hypocritical person, and when I deeply despise someone, I can't canalyse any words out that are not insults or swear words. Hence they should have been happy that I was silent. And I can't pretend either. Not to mention that they did not deserve my acting - I wanted them to feel hated, full stop. If that turns me into a cave woman, then let it be.

On the other way brighter side of things, I am delighted. There is an empty room for me to put all my shit in. We went to Ikea last night and it's just going to be absolutely fantastish! We have to go again at some point, and get more stuff, but so far it feels good. It really feels like absolute freedom.

Now I'm off to better stuff. Like the million of e-mails I need to start sending and the suitcases I have to move around. And some music.

Ready for the weekend

2011-07-04T10:37:00.000+01:00

I've had an amazing weekend, and I really need to share it. Or at least my feelings about it. Let's just start with the positive thought of it's monday, I'm off, and it's 25 degrees outside. Then life is GREAT.

Friday. Went and worked at the Riverside Museum where again, I was given a fopp to operate the till "like I am one of them". This really makes me feel included and I love working there just for the sole fact that they don't even care whether I am an agency person or not: I am one of them! This might sound a bit ridiculous when one is taking orders for fruit scores and teas having a university degree hidden somewhere in a closet, but believe me, after years of struggle, this is a fresh breeze of air!

After that, I rushed to Stirling to referee at the BasketballScotland's international U16 challenge. It was a shite game for me, that is true. I can't even remember it, my brains where so mushed that I never managed to game into the game. Blame it on the three man mechanics, blame it on the unexperienced crew, blame it on the all-day work or on the fact that I had not ref'd a game in forever. It was absolute crap, but I got ready to bounce back from it the next day. And hell yeah!

Saturday. Early morning and to Stirling again, with a game at 10 and another one at 4. The first game when really well despite the fact that the actual quality of the game was not to die for. I was more into the game than on friday, I didn't make terrible mistakes, and I only lacked a bit of practice to make it a way better performance. I was with Smiths and he was happy, so that says it all. It gave me confidence to rise it up again.

Then Soph came and we went to Nando's, and had loads of tasty chicken. I mean, I LOVE this place. A LOT. After that, the game at 4 was perfect. It was a way better performance, everybody said that. Tom was really happy with my improvements coming from Friday, and I felt much more confortable and confident. It is a great feeling when you know you have a great game, but this even was an international challenge game! It was way over the top! Loved it!

Sunday. Again an early night and then to work for 7 hours. It felt a bit weird because it really looked like "be a bitch at work" day, as one of the managers kinda got a bit too carried away. I don't know, and it really isn't my war. I still love and rock that place!

After that we went for basketball at Vicky Park with Jen and Catherine, like it's been ages. It was great just to pretend that time was back a few years and we were still the girls that played for uni and it was probably the best time of our lives. I love them, and now that I am definitely more stable in terms of life, I should get together with them more often. It's the little things. Then I came back home and Soph suggested going out with Dimi to Bennet's, this creepy gay night club, and so we went and it ended up being a deadly funny riot! We danced like 3 am like absoulte machines, everyone in the club loved us and envied us and we showed them all that we are the real cute couple! Ha! That's why wee stood out from the crowd, I guess haha! I danced so much I sweated like a pig and needed to have a shower just as we arrived. LOL.

I knew this was going to be a great weekend. And it has topped my expectations. Now let's get the week rolling - today, sunbathing! :D

Emprendiendo

2011-06-28T12:14:00.000+01:00

Tenía yo razón hace un par de días (toma, toma!) cuando decía que me había inspirado mucho ver a Pau Garcia-Milà en Buenafuente. El co-fundador de eyeOS ya me parecía una persona bastante bien plantada entonces, pero para corroborarlo, le pedí a mi madre que me comprara su libro Está todo por hacer (no en envío exclusivo, mi madre me tenía que mandar unas lentillas... y de paso un poco de jamón!). Me lo he leído en nada (vale que sólo son 100 páginas y a letra de miope, pero aun así...) y me está inspirando. Tanto, que ya estoy en ello en términos de comprar un dominio en internet, transferir todos los datos del blog de Halfie y empezar en serio a buscar estudiantes y a currarmelo como autónoma.

Muchas cosas están pasando en los últimos tiempos que representan un cambio importante para mí. Soy más legal cada día, estoy a una semana de registrarme en mi nuevo piso y de pedir que me devuelvan lo que me quitaron en la declaración de la renta. Estoy intentanto aprender a usar Excel mejor para llevar un control sobre mis actividades laborales este año y cada semana reelaboro un plan económico que varía con el tiempo pero que me ha ayudado a ahorrar lo que no está escrito. Me conozco mejor, y tengo una organización que no creía tener en mí. Y estoy contenta, porque este es el primer paso en el concepto de "ser emprendedor".

El blog de Halfie tiene apenas un año. De hecho, hace un año, y ante la adversidad, decidí convertirme en profesora de verdad, y empecé a dar los primeros pasos, pero veo que requiere mucho más. Que necesito una mejor estructura, y un razonamiento más elaborado. Que no puedo vivir en los árboles con esto. Y que requiere ponerse muchas horas a pensar y pensar, y perder un poco el tiempo para reinventarse. Hoy es mi día libre, y entre recuperarme físicamente de los excesos deportivos y laborales de la semana pasada, recargar pilas mentales, y mover cajas de una casa a otra, tengo que encontrarme a mí misma para, bueno, pensar y trabajar en mi idea.

Tengo muchas ganas. Y como dice Pau, está todo por hacer.

PD. La segunda motivación técnica para que me lance en plancha a la piscina del futuro "autonomismo" es la cantidad de GILIPOLLISMO INTEGRAL que he tenido que soportar esta semana pasada, y que me hace perder TODA la esperanza en la humanidad. Hay tantos idiotas que se creen algo sueltos que me da PHENA. Y ya no aguanto a más jefes - fuera todo el mundo!

Hibernación y precariedad

2011-06-22T12:42:00.000+01:00

Dicen que quien mucho abarca, poco aprieta. Vale, lo asumo. Ahora mismo estoy intentando abarcar mucho. Me siento sinceramente como el oso amoroso que ve el invierno aparecer en la distancia y empieza a trincarse ramas, árboles, arbustos y luego nueces, hierbas y otras mierdas para soportar la hibernación. Pues ahora mismo, yo me estoy tragando todas las ramas. En el sentido de que las ramas son para crear una indigestión y literalmente taponar el intestino, para que toda la comida que se está guardando, no se vaya a tomar por saco. Un proceso tan difícil como necesario.

En ese sentido me sabe muy mal decepcionar a la gente, como por ejemplo este fin de semana, en el que me comprometí a no trabajar y al final voy a pencar por idiota. Me sabe mal porque por otra parte necesito que cierta gente me haga un par de favores, y entiendo perfectamente que lo único que estoy haciendo es causar más estrés del necesario. Y es lo último que quiero hacer, pero en mí se juntan muchas cosas a la vez. Por un lado, las ganas de diverirme. Por otro, las ganas de quedar bien, de ayudar y de ser útil. Y por otro, la necesidad de COMER. Es muy difícil vivir haciendo cuentas todos los días, temiendo que fin de mes está cada vez más cerca, y la gente que no tiene ese problema, no sabe lo que es. Y lo peor, yo, que vivo en la precariedad más absoluta, he conseguido llegar a un nivel de saneamiento de cuentas que otra muchísima gente, en especial ese gilipollas que se cree sex symbol, el compañero de piso de mi novia, que en dos semanas se convertirá en ex-compañero, no ha hecho en su puñetera vida.

[Me doy cuenta, estoy blasfemando, pero es que me hace falta, o si no voy a explotar]

Teniendo en cuenta que a mí me pagan por horas y que cobro el bello salario mínimo, léase, 5.93 libras, si hay suerte 6, y si hay más suerte, alguna propina, es muy difícil ahorrar y vivir al mismo tiempo, por más que Glasgow sea una ciudad muy barata. A veces, simplemente, no llega para ciertas cosas. Pues bien, la semana pasada empecé una maratón de trabajo, combinando banquetes con curro en el restaurante, trabajando una media de nueve horas y pico de viernes a domingo para poder hacer las cuentas de este mes y de obviamente julio. Y esta semana se me junta que hay torneo de baloncesto de por medio. Por lo tanto, trabajo 8 horas el jueves, 11 el viernes y luego fiesta, todo el sábado de partidos y fiesta, y potencialmente 6 o 7 horas el domingo. Y hoy también, pero digamos que mañana por la mañana tengo un descanso. Y se me junta también que el tiempo sigue cambiando, que no ha parado de llover en 4 días, y que ya he pillado otro catarro, con sus consiguientes fiebres, narices tapadas y sobre todo anginas y cuerpo chungo. Un auténtico cóctel molotov para mi cuerpo. Y de mientras, tengo que pensar en conseguir cuantas más horas posibles para la semana que viene, porque está claro que en julio y agosto la agencia cierra el chiringuito, y es más que probable que trabaje menos todos los contertulianos de Sálvame Deluxe juntos.

Nadie se da cuenta de eso, pero yo sigo aquí. Y si ya es un milagro que tenga el másters casi pagado, lo más milagroso va a ser sobrevivir los próximos dos meses. En ese sentido, entiendo la decepción de algunos, pero lo primero es lo primero, y ahora mismo, lo primero soy yo, o en su defecto, mi instinto de supervivencia, que, a pesar de los años y de las circunstancias, se está haciendo cada vez más dominante y desarrollado que nunca.

Así se vive en la precariedad laboral, señores. Casi no me aguanto las ganas de volver a ser estudiante. De verdad de la buena.

Scholarship - bada boom!

2011-06-16T10:40:00.000+01:00

And finally, amazing news! Because things were already good and working out, but now they are a hundred times better!!

Just one word: SCHOLARSHIP. And that solves the question. I got an email yesterday as I was in a plate service in the Hunter Halls at university (good omen?) at lunch time. The secretary for the School of Modern Languages and Cultures told me that the school can offer me a scholarship worth half of my fees for me to carry out my MLitt. I really can't be more chuffed. It's not full fees, but given that I have saved enough money so far, I only have another grand to go to pay for the rest of the course. That means I don't have to obsess about working 50 hours a week for the next couple of months, and that if I keep going at this same pace, I will reach the deadline before August is over. I'm over the moon, really.

Yesterday, as I was still carrying plates (but ten feet higher than the rest, I reckon), I gave a thought to what this mean, and I thought that maybe I deserve a prize, even if small, for all the hard work I have been putting on getting to this stage, and as I spoke to Soph about it, I thought I could get a new gadget. I was thinking of a tablet PC for my lesson presentations, but it'd be counterproductive to work on, and I would have to be very careful, not to mention that most of them are actually far too expensive. So maybe a notebook would be the deal. I have been checking and Samsung and HP have decent models under £250 and given that next year I'm gonna have to work quite a lot "when on the move" (trains, buses, etc going to Edinburgh, Aberdeen, Arbroath and the like...), I think this would be the best investment and it will ease a lot of my back pains for having to carry my big laptop around. So in the next few weeks, I'll give myself this satisfaction, and get myself a netbook - and after that, loads of more work, but always with the peace of mind that I'm "almost there".

Oh, and I love Mrs Donaldson, the secretary. I mean, she's done a lot for me - I will get her a "thank you" card or a basket or something when I register. Now, chillax.

Ps. And offtay work!

500

2011-06-12T20:20:00.000+01:00

I just realised this is my 500th post in this blog. I was going to write about something else, but I guess I could do some recap and remember how things have been since that moment to the current situation.

It was dark ages, the end of 2008, and as I can recall it, it was born under the worst of circumstances. After posting a very deranged "I hope you think of me when you fuck her" on Christmas Eve in my former Windows Live account, I decided it was time to call it quits. It needed to die, so I could go on with my life. I just couldn't pretend that everything was right, because everything was wrong. I was rotting away due to a terrible broken heart and I thought that it was me or the blog. And of course I came first.

Two and a half years later, loads of things have happened to me. Bad times, very rough, where I didn't even know how to go on, or to even survive, when I didn't even know where I was going to sleep the next day. And really good times, like graduation, achieving my goals and of course my sweetie. Everything's better now. It's been so long since I put all those really bad things behind me, and I have focused so much on enjoying today and improving tomorrow that sometimes looking back seems like I was another person, like my past is somebody else's past and that it's all too dusty to picture it again. However, in good and bad times, this blog has helped me put a word out there that will always come back to me when I need to re-read myself. And now what I'm gonna do is exactly that, read through some of the good and bad times, and try to learn a bit from them.

I am happy.

Phase two of the fitness plus diet plan starting soon. Stay tuned!

Busy-ness

2011-06-09T10:55:00.000+01:00

I like how things are looking this week. I could sit on my arse, and live on it and still the week would make sense. Of course I am not going to do that, but it is good to have a good kick start, also of the month, to cheer you up and put you back in track in every sense. As I said that May had dragged so badly and I couldn't wish for it to end sooner, now I realise that June is literally flying by and it'll be gone before I know it!

Things are working out cause I can see myself reaching my goal of uni in time. It is something that will mark me the entire summer, but I am almost there (well, half-way-ish in terms of what I want to do and my predictions, but in any way, really up to it) and that makes me feel very confident and allows me to focus on more important tthings, like reading, lesson preparing, or in my case lately, dieting and getting fit. In a way I feel "secure" that things ARE going to happen, and that was the most terrifying thought of all, not being able to make things happen.

Yesterday I was kitchen portering all day, and I could not stop thinking of a comeback for the people who know me and would see me doing that. "This is what you have to do when mommy and daddy can't put you through uni". However, I never felt bitter and in a way I even enjoy myself doing the dishes. It's like I no longer feel guilty or embarrassed for having a job that is not quite to the expectatives. You know, life is tough and I feel very privileged to be able to work. Most people where I come from can't work and can't get anything to happen.

And as the shallow remark of the day, I am finally going back to the miCoach training after two hectic days. Somehow I just LOVE this app. :)

Puzzling results

2011-06-04T22:39:00.000+01:00

Height 155cm
Weight 51.5kg
BMI 21.3 (in healthy zone, from 18 to 24)
BMR 1218 kcal
Fat % 22.9 (desirable between 21 and 33%)

So is that the diet over after 5 days? Haha!

Not over but at least tuned down (I ate ice cream the other day!). I'm gonna be introducing the nutritional concepts one by one or in small steps so I stop hating the whole thing. Now the aim is to reach the 5 a day for a consistent period of time, reduce the carb portions by just 10-20% and quit deep fried stuff. And of course, start trying out this Adidas app I just downloaded, to improve my running skills and my fitness (hopefully, it will all come together at some point).

Next Body Composition Analysis on Wednesday. See if that body fat is going down at all - LOL!

Emprendiendo

2011-06-03T14:32:00.000+01:00

Tengo poco tiempo, por lo que seguramente, el texto se va a quedar con poco sentido.

Esta mañana me he levantado con un dolor de cuello descomunal porque he tenido que dormir sola (alguien salió de farra anoche y volvió tarde a su casa). He estado haciendo un poco de abdominales y varias gilipolleces con la bola hinchable que tengo, que es una maravilla y a la vez el regalo más ridiculo que me han hecho este año. He visto Buenafuente, como todas las mañanas, y me ha gustado, como casi siempre, la entrevista, esta vez con el co-creador de Eyeos, Pau Garcia-Milà, que habla rápido y claro, algo que me gusta porque me puedo relacionar con ello. Un poco como ese otro señor del que no recuerdo el nombre, pero que es un crack, que es motivador empresarial o algo así. Emilio no se qué. Perdón por mi ignorancia, pero un auténtico crack.

A lo que vengo. Me ha motivado. He escrito cuatro cosas que llevaban días en mi cabeza pero que estaba demasiado perra como para ponerme a ello. Cuando estoy un par de días sin hacer nada remarcable en el terreno mental, me entra la paranoia de las neuronas peleadas y derritiéndose porque se aburren. Me gusta reconducir el barco neuronal de vez en cuando y plasmar lo que realmente pienso (a nivel pragmático) y sentirme bien de que haya sido un día productivo. Independientemente de si he ido a trabajar, o he tenido entrenamiento, o estudiante. Aunque, cierto es, que el día que tengo estudiante, estoy más alerta que nunca porque para preparar las lecciones hace falta un poco de materia gris. Hoy, me ha motivado este chico y su facilidad para pasmar a Buenafuente. Me gusta esta manera de pensar de que "si uno no es optimista, no puede aspirar a nada, y todo su potencial de ideas se irá al carajo". Y luego me he puesto a leer su blog y he visto una entrada que dice que siempre estamos esperando algo, y eso es exactamente lo que llevo diciendo yo varios años: que la gente siempre espera a que pase "lo siguiente" para poder disfrutar. A obtener un trabajo o un ascenso para ser felices, a tener pareja para ser felices, a acabar o empezar la universidad para ser felices. Y siempre me ha parecido tonto eso de esperar "para mejorar". No me gusta.

Irónicamente, yo estoy esperando para empezar el máster. Que bueno, tampoco es del todo cierto, estoy casi como esperando para no empezarlo, porque las cuentas hay días que no me salen, y pienso que voy a querer llorar para pagarlo, y sólo espero que los meses se hagan más largos para poder ahorrar más. Pero eso es otra historia. Es en días como hoy que me siento mejor por ello, porque no me da la sensación de estar esperando, si no de estar ya en ello, de haber empezado algo. Mi nivel de "emprendimiento" no es comparable al de este muchacho, mi idea era ser profesora de español, y a la vista está, en ello estamos, desarrollando. Con método própio, muchas ganas, y muy poco dinero; en resumen, a la española (o en su defecto en estos tiempos de recorte, a la catalana).

Pues eso, que esa chorrada me ha gustado, y ha proyectado en mí un día bastante productivo, al menos a nivel moral. Es posible que igual me haya afectado al cerebro el hecho de que lo estaba viendo mientras hacía abdominales, cosa que no creo que sea tampoco muy recomendable para la salud. Ha sido un buen espasmo eléctrico al cerebro para activar el pensador de ideas. Y en ello estoy.

Gracias a Buenafuente y a Pau Garcia-Milà.

Entre otras cosas estoy buscando otro trabajo. Otro más, quiero decir. A sumar a los cinco que ya tengo. También son ganas...

#summerdiet

2011-06-02T11:32:00.000+01:00

This might sound crazy, or a bit stupid, but I have started a diet. Maybe not a super macro diet per se, just a low-fat-eat-less-you-dirty-fat-bastard kind of diet. A friend of the mistress asked why was I on diet, looking as it seems that I am not fat at all. Well, that is debatable. I am fat, just on the right (or wrong) spots. And believe me, when 24/7 you listen to somebody complaining about your local fat, in the end you just lose your patience and go "okay, I will start a diet".

With this I don't mean that I am not doing this for myself. It is true that I have always needed an inspiration from somewhere so I could actually start a diet, or eat less, for that matter, but it's always been hard. This responds to the fact that I really don't mind having a fucked up body because I love eating. However, this affects whoever is next to me. And so it seems, having a girlfriend and being settled does not give me the freedom to go and get fat, especially when your girlfriend is thin and light as a tampon commercial.

In any case, I have started. Today is Day 3. I am keeping a video blog and during the next two months I'm gonna see "how is it going". I don't really trust the video blog would change anything, but it seems that you need motivation, and seeing you change. Again, it's not like I need to lose 10 kgs and I'm a fat bastard. I need to lose 3 and get fit. Seems unreal, but this is my way to pre-season. I need to keep my mind focused, because I realised that getting to one's objectives requires more mental work, and so the more physical work I can deal with right now, the fresher my mind's gonna be in the months coming.

Plus, who doesn't want a six pack?

Pahaha.

Chilled

2011-05-26T11:05:00.000+01:00

It's a bit ridiculous, but I get so stressed up the previous hours before meeting a student, that the fact that yesterday I was so chilled out and finished the lesson way ahead of time was very unusual and super comforting to me. I tend to procrastinate until the very last moment, until like 6 o'clock, which is normally my deadline time, as I need to start getting ready then - shower, cycle to the train station or to get the bus, and others. Yesterday I was done for like about quarter to five, and I had been non-stop working on it for the previous hour, and I really surprised myself.

I have the feeling that, even if I try not to think about it, I need to impress a student with what I can offer as a teacher from lesson one, so when it gets to lesson 5, that person would trust that even if I fuck up a lesson, I would still look good and it will seem all right to have a dodgy lesson. It's like winning from the very beginning, so in case you have a game off and you lose horribly, you're still on the lead. This feeling normally fades away after the first lesson, but for some reasons that escape my control, I have had to deal with this feeling, in this particular case, until lesson 4. Now I feel that I have to keep improving, but I have the control for the first time. And I'm allowed a bad performance - it is comforting as it takes off the pressure. A lot.

Still, when getting some stuff ready for a lesson, I am always in constant agony, like in a performance fear, stage fright or whatever, that it may be going completely wrong. I guess this is normal, and that if I felt nothing, I would dread being a teacher, or becoming one. Now latest disappointments with primary kids had me wondering all week long (it's been quite negative so far, but the end of the month is just around the corner, and I've been feeling that May is just dragging right now) whether teaching was for me or not. And I think it is, I felt really good after this week's lessons, the only positives to be fair, and I'm happy, because reaffirms me in terms of "you might not like or appreciate what I'm doing, but I know I'm right" and dissolves in a way the so-called "perils of aimlessness", like in that Gogol's play.

I think that having the upper hand now, and getting to realise how easy it is to do things right without having to wait until the last minute will give me a peace to work on the right things and get the message through, the way I want it to be. I am looking forward to certain other things that between today and tomorrow, and of course after the Champions League final, will affect me positively. I'm sure I will finally manage to wash away this very weird end-of-May gloom that has been clouding my window.

Ps. I am listening to Justin Bieber and Dima Bilan. I think it's time to admit it and say it out loud - ha!

De todo un poco

2011-05-25T15:52:00.000+01:00

Venía ahora en bici de una cafetería pija de Byres Road, pensando en escribir algo en el blog sobre cómo me siento, y no sabía como empezar. Me auto dictaba las palabras pero no era capaz de hilvanar un discurso sereno y coherente, y sólo me venían a la cabeza conceptos. Así que me parece que voy a ir escribiendo según aparezcan los conceptos en mi mente.

...Indignación, es la palabra de moda ahora mismo. Eso y meterse un hashtag antes de hablar o de mencionar algo. Me siento solidaria y querría colaborar, pero no estoy segura de que nadie agradeciera mi ayuda. Hasta cierto punto, me harto. Creo que estoy en división de opiniones mentales, porque sé que si estuviera en España ahora mismo, igual me hubiera tirado dos o tres días acampada, pero eso sí, yo habría plegado el chiringuito por la noche o me hubiera largado después de las elecciones pensando "¿y que porras hago yo aquí?". A veces pienso que la crisis es una excusa que usamos para todo. "Oi, es que no tengo ganas de follar" "Mah, tranquila, que eso es la crisis"... No sé. Yo vivo la precariedad laboral en mis carnes, y no voy a decir "y no me quejo de nada", pero sé que estando las cosas como están, nadie regala nada. Quizás he visto muchas películas del siglo pasado y me parece super genial tener un techo sobre mi cabeza, ni que sea de la manera más cutre posible. Uno crea sus prioridades a partir de lo que tiene y de su experiencia. Y yo en ese sentido soy anómala de la sociedad, algo anti-antisistema, como si viviera en otra época. No lo sé.

...Cuando digo eso de que nadie regala nada, lo digo también por experiencia propia. Entre ayer y hoy, sin ir más lejos, me he llevado una reprimenda interesante del trabajo, me han rechazado la concesión de una beca para la universidad y me han dicho que no en un trabajo cuya solicitud data de marzo, pero que era para trabajar este verano. A la vista está que yo con estas cosas no contaba, pero boom, cuando te dicen que no, pues siempre te cae el palo, aunque sea "palito". No me importa, "lo sabía", me sigo diciendo. Sin embargo es más bien una cantinela propia, para no despistarme del objetivo real, que es ahorrar para la universidad. Porque si dejo de pensar en ello, al final puede que me de cuenta que, después de todo, igual no me sale tan a cuenta volver... pero bueno, eso ya lo veremos. De momento, ahí estamos.

...Somos mejores que ellos y ganaremos seguro. Lo sigo pensando, y lo pensaré siempre. Una batalla que se libra cada día, pero al final siempre saldremos victoriosos, porque nos estamos dejando los cuernos.

...Tengo que perder peso y empezar a currar un poco esas nalgas para poder estar en forma en Agosto. Suena a chorrada, pero no lo es para nada. Este año tengo entre manos el desafío de consolidarme para poder ser candidata a nivel 3 en 2012, y es fundamental que aprete el culo desde ya. Me cuesta motivarme, pero pronto tendré el plan adecuado, creo yo.

... Hoy estoy un poco harta de todo, por eso me quedo en pijama hasta nueva orden. Sí, mañana será otro día.

Reading is not-believing

2011-05-11T13:46:00.000+01:00

Lately, I have been picking books from the library to get home and "show them a good time". I guess a good time for a library book must mean to lie all alone on a desk and be touched and moved here and there, and some times even read. As I confessed in my last post, I barely read the books I get from the library. However this last week I decided to do something about it and get reading. And the results are scary.

Due to the fact that I have around five months to play around with time and topics, I can pretty much read anything I desire right now. As long as it has something to do with my coming PG and my potential dissertation. As I stated in countless occasions, I want to review the situation of Catalan in Catalonia. I want to show the world what is going on. I want to be the one linking language learning and culture awareness. I have had to explain far too many times what is being a Catalan, what is Catalan, why I'm not burning Spanish flags and why I am the way I am, and what better than a dissertation dedicated solely to that purpose.

So with that intention in mind, the book I am reading at the moment is called Language, Democracy and Devolution in Catalonia, edited by Sue Wright, and which contains opinions from one main specialist, Miquel Strubell, and the replies of 8 academics. It is a very interesting book, and it really applies to the topic I want to tackle. Now the problem is that the excess of contrary ideas is blocking my mind in a way. That is interfering with my input of the news of the day, that I normally get from two generalist newspapers, El País and El Periódico. And we have to add up my reading of the sports-related media, which are really doing my head in. I was afraid of becoming a radical the more I read. Now I'm almost certainly sure that too much reading is turning me into an anarchist. I don't believe in anything anymore. And what I really don't believe in is politics. I used to have some ideas, something I thought it was worth fighting for. But I'm ashamed to say that I don't think I believe in anything or anyone. I don't feel the multi-allegiance, I feel anti-allegiance. Like I felt, a little bit, when I came back from that disastrous refereeing seminar and I thought I stood alone. I think we all stand alone. Reading is, ironically, not believing.

In any way, if they are all liars, why would anyone believe?

Pic: Not that I am into famous people or remarkable feats of history, but you have to admit, Bakunin's hair was class. I don't align with it tho. Let it be.

The Chase

2011-05-06T16:23:00.000+01:00

I'm lying in bed for second time this week at this time of the day, however this time is voluntary and not pain induced, like yesterday. I had a coffee in the Offshore, and then I had the urge to go to bed. Yes, that's how much coffee really affects me.

I am a bit bummed cause I can't seem to find a blogging application for the BlackBerry, when it's clear that I could really do with writing when I am on the go. It's pish to write on the internet version of it, because the chances of pressing the wrong button and deleting everything are far too high. Anyway...

In the last few days, the chance, or the idea of getting still another job have been preying for me. I don't know what road to take, really. I am still sending out stuff, CVs, and letters and applications, however I know that if I get any calls back from these places, I might need to reject them, or have a try and then, well, lie, or quit something. I like diversity, I love it actually. What I don't really enjoy is having three million jobs to combine, cause some times, it gets veeery tiring. And boring. The other day, I had to go to Erskine (cause I was an idiot for saying yes, but whatever) and hated every minute of it, not to mention that it took me one hour to go and then come back! Shite, I forgot to drop by the agency today, so I will need to drop everything on Monday. Crap. Cannot be bothered with this.

On another side of things, I have taken the strict determination of reading the books I actually take from library. I had to return one that I had just started reading, and I don't want to do that again, it feels idiotic. Plus I'm sure that some of them will actually give me some clues to draw my research maps. Lately it feels like I am crusading for something that I'm not a 100% sure that it'll be worth it. I feel it's a bit "for the greater good" or for my so-called "future", however the idea is so inconsistent, and so far away right now, that I run the risk of falling out with it, or let it fade away too soon, before anything actually happens. I think it's because I am making such a huge effort to save for uni, and I have to constantly think about it, and about what I do, and that is making me lose a bit of faith, or enthusiasm. I guess I'm afraid I'm putting too many hopes on something that might not be what I expect, or what I desire. Some times I feel like I am in a Super Mario Bros game, and I'm running against the clock, or away from the burning fire, to get as many coins as I can and reach for the door before I get burnt. Hell of a run. And still four more months to go.

Despite all this, I am HAPPY. There's something that puts a smile on my face every time I wake up.

Shooting hoops for victory

2011-04-29T16:36:00.000+01:00

I rescued this from long, forgotten history. November 11th, 2008. Maybe a bit of an exaggerated chronicle, especially around Morna's "acrobatic dunk", but hell yeah we deserved this. It brings a smile to my face even now. :)

Harry Tattersall Smith
Glasgow University Women’s Basketball team outfought and out-thought an aerially superior Queen Margaret University side (QMU) in a crushing display, as they ruthlessly dismantled their Edinburgh rivals 72-25 in a performance that sent out a message of clear intent to their league opposition.

Noe ‘the pocket rocket’ Llamas, one of Glasgow’s most prolific players, orchestrated proceedings with a display of such vivid creativity and energy that it gave the sparse crowd something to cheer about on a brutally cold night at the Kelvin Hall.

Anyone fooled by the Spaniard’s diminutive stature were soon overawed by her tactical astuteness, as time after time she tore through the QMU’s disjointed and disheartened defence. In a virtuoso performance, she top-scored with 20 points, twice hitting from 3 point range, In a victory she described as a “cheering up match,” following the gruelling loss to major rivals Stirling in the league opener.

For all of the QMU’s advantage in the air, they seemed unable to handle the Glasgow defensive hustle, and unable to match the intensity of the home squad’s aggressive pressure, as time after time the sheer physicality of Glasgow’s rear guard saw the visitors squander promising possession.
The match precedent was set early on as captain Carlyn Wallis smashed a block in against the towering figure of QMU’s 6ft plus point guard. It was an all-round performance from Wallis, who chipped in with 10 valuable points, whilst the fierce nature of her defence saw the QMU reduced to optimistically shooting from long range in a bid to stem the black and gold tide.

Whilst the QMU lacked any cutting edge, Glasgow began with such speed and dynamic pace that they raced into an early ten point lead. Sinead McCarthy caused the early damage with a dizzying array of skills around the hoop.
By the end of the first quarter, illusions of escaping Kelvin hall with a famous victory were all but over. Glasgow saw twenty points go unanswered, whilst it was left for the QMU to chase the shadows of the far more inventive outfit.

Any chances of QMU revival were dashed by the clinical nature of the University performance; attacking with confidence and purpose, whilst in defence, they restricted an intimidating opposition front line to a meagre nine points in the first half, as they opened up a thirty-one point lead by the interval.

One cause for concern was the sloppy nature of Glasgow’s third quarter, as they very much took the foot of the gas. By this stage they were coasting and comfortable, yet the worry must be that against sterner opposition Glasgow’s big players cannot afford to go missing.

After a short break and a focus talk from the co-coach, the effects seemed instantaneous; a team rejuvenated. GU returned with the same vigour and purpose that had been intrinsic to their first half dominance. The team quickly stepped through the gears, producing breath-taking basketball that blew away their dejected opponents.

With the match sewn up, Llamas took it upon herself to inject some vibrancy into the game. It was in this vein that she started to unveil her catalogue of outlandish trickery, perhaps most audaciously with a bewildering pass around the back that saw Morna Hill repay the compliments with an acrobatic dunk into the unguarded net.

After the match, Howtoun talked of her pride in the team’s stellar performance, “it was a brilliant team performance out there tonight,” she then went on to talk optimistically about the upcoming league season. “The team we’ve played tonight won last week against Strathclyde so really we can’t be in better shape.”

Endangered brain cells

2011-04-18T12:07:00.002+01:00

Surviving the weekend is always a start. Especially when you've had a sort of rough week, and you need a break but you don't get it.

I did not have a bad week, but I felt I was very put off. Like not motivated to do anything, or focused to understand things or maybe too worried for absolutely nothing. Given the fact that dilemmas have cleared up and I feel much better about them now, and I think I even took the right decision, even if this decision was sort of imposed to me, I kinda feel like the pain in my chest from before feels much better. Now, all I am short of, I think, is vacuuming my room, as I am hoping that will clear all the to-dos I had for last week that I never managed to 'do'. That, and replying to my university offer.

I don't particularly like the state of mind numbness, I feel it's particularly dangerous when you have a sort of double life. Let me explain. I lead a double life, not cause I have two wives and four kids, but because my body is leading a life that my mind does not know about and the other way round. When I'm at home, all brainy, I prepare lessons, I think about possible dissertation topics, I read. When I'm out, I'm working, I am using my body only and the pilot mode of my brain and I can only take two or three orders and I am based in simple messaging. I was doing that for a month only last year and I felt that some brain cells died a slow, painful death. Now that I am getting ready to endure that for at least five months, I need to find the plug to switch on my brain when I am in the house, or in need to, say, think. It implies a lot of effort, but I must succeed, otherwise, in September, I would have killed so many brain cells that I would probably not even be ready for university. And that would be counterproductive: became an idiot to pay for something that's supposed to make me more "intelligent".

Of course intelligence understood like a degree and a piece of paper. But you know what I mean.
I think writing might help mitigate the effects of brain cell killing, so I assume I would be posting stuff regularly. I feel I need it, otherwise I will forget what's going on with my life. Ha!

Random thought: I have to stop drinking that much coffee. It ain't helping.

Pic: Humming Bird. I think this really made my day. Also because we have been watching this lesbians in Glasgow BBC series called Lip Service, and they were meeting in that bar and I thought that was very cool.

Instant crumble

2011-04-16T11:47:00.000+01:00

I should probably do a quick update of what is going on, but I don't want to push myself too much cause I am really not very bothered in general today (a mood that is uncannily common when I am alone in the country, eg. girlfriend out of town) and I feel like going back to bed but of course I will try to resist that urge and focus on something I can or want to do. I have five hours til I'm off to work. It's gonna be tough.

So Soph left on Wednesday, and in a series of events that are not at all related to her departure, my mental world started to crumble. In a positive way, though. Last week I broke all records and landed myself a job. A shit job, let's face it. A fake Italian restaurant, tiny as a fuck and full of old folk and some government dependent nut cases. Yes, and it made me happy. Then I wanted to kill myself for four hours and a half but I think I will survive that "OMG" stage and get to like it, or cope with it, in the worst of cases. Given the fact that there is only a verbal agreement and I yet have to sign a contract and, what's more important, sort out working hours and hourly rate, I still sort of think of it as if it's nothing solid. It really isn't, if you think of it, but given my need to save money for September and my unlucky strike of job attempts in the last couple of years, I think I may have to give some credit to the manager and thank him eternally for giving me this chance.

However, two days ago, I was ready to boot it all. Early evening on Wednesday, after so-called work (road trip to Ayr Racecourse for an induction of four hours. Lies, two hour paper reading and a tour of the building, easiest paid work you could get, IMO!), I got a phone call from a company that does street fundraising. Yeah, those annoying people in the streets, esp Buchanan, that stop you even when you are in the worst of hurries, to get them to sign up to their charities. Right, inviting me for an interview. I say yes. I think "oh fuck". I go, and it's absolutely fantastic. But it's full time and they need people right now. I still say yes. I will get a phone call about it on Friday afternoon. So there you go, 24 hours of mental crumble and demolitions, dilemmas and other brain queries.

Post-interview, I headed to Shawlands for pizza and beer with Jess and Nicola, which I have not seen (sober) in forever. We watched East Enders and discussed my work dilemma. Jess has always the best insights and I reckon she could be a proper manager anywhere, and that she will be eventually. I think she's one of the wisest people I know. She did say that I seemed quite happy with ditching everything and going for the fundraising job, and I said I wanted to give myself the chance to do it, that I wanted to give it a shot. So yes, Thursday night, I am accepting the other job if they phone me the next day.

Friday. Down in Ayr at the races selling racecards, locked in a booth with a girl that can confidently say that she knew university was not for her and that now she has fulfilled the dream of her life, being a beautician. She was not too unbearable, I have to admit, although I think she might have gone back home to her friends in Hamilton saying that she managed to survive five hours locked in a booth with an allegedly deranged homosexual woman. In other words, probably hers, "a crazy lezbo!". Score. I get home quite early and I spend most of the time detoxing with FIFA 08, Queer as Folk and my new favourite dead show, Lip Service.

Friday, midnight. No phone calls today. Right, I see this clears up all dilemmas. Sunday, despite having foreseen a big "I am sorry, but I am going for the better job, dear" moment at the restaurant, I will have to work 11 to close. With the potential nutters. The joys.

Now I realise that I am being a bit too cheeky, but in a way, once we achieve something we have really longed for, we immediately despise it, or want something more or better. Let's face it. Kids stop playing with their Xmas presents on New Year's. There must be a human condition behind this behaviour of mine, something a bit beyond arrogance. I still think though that my premature despise is justified on the yet again lower IQ average of my working place. I just re-read that, and it sounds unbelievably prickish. Oh, let it be.

In the end, however, this new wild experience will be valued on whether it allows me to pay for university or not. That is my only motivation right now. It's not very strong now, but I'm sure it will be in a month's time, when everything goes back to normal.

Ps. If Soph had been in the country, I would not have had a single mental crush. I just KNOW. Oh, I miss you, bebaki.

Like it's my birthday!

2011-03-25T14:57:00.000Z

Loads of things happening very fast, and I just want to stop and stare though the window, let the sun shine on my face and think "This is just great".

My first Cup Final after several fiascos and after the hardest yet best season ever.

Glasgow Fever finishing second in the league with an 8-4 record, and me, probably second or third best scorer with 17ppg. Best basketball season ever.

The little things, a concert, a breakfast, a new discovery, a naughty game, new friendships, a challenge. Moving in this summer with my other half. My new chair. The little smiles. Maple syrup.

And sunny, very sunny spring in Glasgow. *I love this city*

I'm gonna be twenty-five in two days. I think there's no better time for this to come. I've been feeling like every day is my birthday for a long time. That can only be a good thing. Now for more challenges, and more birthdays!

Woman in grey.

2011-01-26T09:57:00.001Z

I really need to write down what happened last night. I am still so disappointed and frustrated that I cannot stand my own thoughts, so I need to pour them somewhere.

I have been refereeing for 3 years. I have had ups and downs and I've moved from being a Baby Ref to being a Shite Young Ref to being an Acceptable Ref, which is the level I think I am at now. Of course, that's for other people's opinions, because I myself think that my improvement has been constant and not rocketing or plunging at any point and I think I am in the right track to, say, be a Level 3 in less than 2 years and become a BBL ref before I'm 30. I am also very hopeful that I will make it to FIBA one day, and many people (specially my ref friends - I can already hear Giulio's remark!) would probably have a laugh if they knew I think that way, but if I myself don't believe in myself, who else will? There you go.

At the very beginning, I felt uncomfortable refereeing the same team too often, because I sort of developed caring feelings for the team, and I would always end up thinking I was biased. But when I moved from Baby Refness, I realised I had dropped those feelings, and from then on, I've never felt biased in my entire career. I've always felt I could deal with refereeing friends, old team mates, ex-lovers and people that I hated, and that went down always with the same criteria. And I knew they would all complain, but I am the person in grey, so I am used to complaints and criticism, and I accept that. Ultimately, I always think that I have the last word and that I am the person who reads the Rule Book more often. I felt comfortable refereeing Glasgow Uni seconds when I played for the first team, and never felt or were biased. A foul is a foul whichever way it goes, even if it goes against my best friend and her team loses because of that.

That explained, I could not be biased last night. On the one side, two of my best friends. On the other side, my ex team and another of my best mates, a girl I owe a lot to. I sincerely think I took the right decision by making the game be normal and not like someone suggested and it's definitely not my fault that the away team got there 45 minutes AFTER tip off. I understand that the last quarter was a fiasco, and I take full responsibility for that, but in all terms, I tried the game to go on like normal. I tried my best, we just run out of time.

What came after that, I cannot account for. I understand that losing the game in the last second because your team commits the biggest and clearest travel in the world of basketball can get you mad. But I certainly did not deserve being yelled at. Not by anyone's coach, not by my best friends. And I cannot be in the middle, I hate it. Because I love them three quite passionately and I hate that they hate each other and that it became a battle between yellow and blue and I was in grey there to put peace and coolness. I don't deserve that. I can take my fair share of criticism, and I can assume certain responsibilities, but this ending was not my fault.

All said, I am particularly proud of how I handled the situation afterwards. I knew some would be very pissed off, but I had the staff from the arena telling me in my face that the court had to be vacated, and we were lucky that we managed to play until the end. As I said, I take all the responsibility, but time running out was not my fault. I did what I had to do; ask my superior, deal with both teams, hear the allegations and then explain the situation as it stands. And I stood there and talked in my nicest voice when I had been offended quite severely some minutes before. But hey, that's refereeing for you.

This only makes me wonder if I should keep accepting games where "conflict of interests" apply. Cause I was not only an ex-player and a friend, but also a rival in the league competition last night. People may not understand this, but when I wear grey, I am only a grey person. I am not an ex-Glasgow Uni, a Killie friend or a Fever player. I am a ref. I am THE ref.

My last thought is, I don't complain much about criticism, but I would like that some people, before yelling crap at me (and I'm not talking about yesterday anymore, but in general) would take a second to think in what position they're putting me on. Like they say, before judging, walk a mile in my shoes.

Bekelauer dixit.

I stand alone.

2011-01-10T10:48:00.000Z

I am sitting alone in my room, scrapping some papers here and there, writing things that soon (in, say, three days' time) should be and look complete. Things that need to take me to the next level. And in the meantime, I review all the events from the last weekend, things I cannot get away from. Things that have left me feeling more frustrated and that have not helped me at all, even thought they were supposed to be good to me.

The whole day yesterday was a complete waste of time. In many levels. It made me realise a couple of things. First, that it is out of jealousy and spite the reason why I hate some people in this world. Because I can't be like them, and they look and seem so perfect that it makes me want to puke - because they are, and I am not. I am not a pretty, nice girl and will never be, as I was not the perfect student and clearly I am not the best professional. Second, that I am shy and selfish for reasons that come together and apart at the same time. That I can't face the truth because it hurts or it scares me and all I hope and expect from life is for things to come along at some point or another. Without forcing them, so as not to look ridiculous. And that is wrong.

So the conclusion to all this is I stand alone. I should stop crying about the things I am not and fight for the things I want to be and I am not because I am mentally blocked. That's a start. Then, because it will only come thanks to my patience, my work and my dedication, to get to be a little bit more like that person I hate but deep inside I wish I was like. And there is no one that can help me, because, as it stands, everyone disagrees with everyone, no one knows what's right anymore and it'll depend on my sole experience for me to improve.

It will depend on me. It already depends on me. And my work.

I stand alone.

Ps. Thanks for being like you are. You certainly have saved me from collapsing too. And I love you.

Jan 2nd

2011-01-02T20:30:00.000Z

Back to Glasgow. Everything in place. Need to start working. Need to be back in track. Can't stand more holidays. Can't stand empty days. Need to put something in my head. Can't even write long sentences.

Good news is I got myself a BlackBerry Curve 3G. Bad news is my back tooth hurts - again.

I got a long list of things to do, and an incredible good will to do them, but, let's be honest, hell knows if that'll be materialised. Phone call to agency early in the morning, me thinks.

Short sentences. Quick stuff. Weather below zero. Hummmmpf.

Christmas Aftermath Recap

2010-12-26T21:55:00.000Z

I'm not really in the mood for writing anything deep or meaningful right now, but I do feel like writing something, so I guess that what better than a Xmas Aftermath Recap to let me remember what has indeed happened in the las 48 hours.

1. Over 12,000 calories have been consumed. I think it's actually way more than that, given that the amount of sugars, salt and saturate fats is virtually incalculable. I'm so fucked.

2. No sports or remarkable efforts have been made or practiced. Walking to and from my granddad's house yesterday does not really count, as it's barely 15 minutes away - and it was freezing at 3am, so we walked very fast.

3. I've met tones of people, including my old basketball teammates. Very much awesome.

4. I've seen both my parents dance to Alejandro by Lady GaGa on my cousin's 4th birthday, a product of the infamous quantities of cava that were consumed. How inappropriate.

5. I've felt seriously guilty about eating about 4 times. I dismissed my feelings all 4 times.

6. My status on FB was only updated twice.

7. I must have slept only 5 hours.

8. My Xmas presents included Lo que vendría a ser la Historia de España, by Buenafuente and El Terrat, a sweater, loads of underwear and money. Whoever thought I was too old for Xmas presents must have been wrong.

9. The minimum average decibel meter count in the living room of my granddad's place was over 70.

10. I lost real badly at Monopoly. I am shite at it and cannot help it!

And that's about it. Now I'm sick. Boo.

Opiniones, plis.

2010-12-23T17:09:00.000Z

Quiero opiniones. Muchas.

Para delirio de mi madre y de los personajes más allegados a mi vida, estoy en modo Research. Se acabaron las tonterías, porque si no empiezo ahora, no voy a acabar nunca, e igual que el año pasado dí el coñazo con el másters durante varios meses y nada cuajó y me llevé algún que otro leño en la cabeza por culpa única y exclusivamente mía, este año no va a suceder lo mismo. Y sin preámbulos aquí está el topic.

Siempre considerando la lengua (sea castellana como catalana) como motor, y la lingüística por bandera y por banda (muy esproncerianamente) y sin mojarme en aguas que me deberían tocar pero en las que obviamente no me quiero meter, pido opinión general sobre la creciente tensión España vs Cataluña, en lo que respecta a aspectos políticos, culturales, sociales y económicos. O sea se, en todo. Llevo tres días en inmersión completa (muy al estilo Arthur More) leyendo periódicos de todos bandos, intentando empaparme de la temática con el objetivo de no inmiscuirme en política, si no en lingüística. En cómo hacer lecturas culturales del uso y abuso del catalán y el castellano para promover argumentos y generar mal rollo. El tema responde a preguntas como:

- ¿Qué es una nación o como se define una nación desde tu punto de vista personal? ¿Es entonces Cataluña una nación?

- ¿Qué opinas del discurso de la transición nacional catalana de Artur Mas? ¿Crees que CiU será mejor para los intereses de Cataluña y aumentará la tensión con el estado central?

- ¿Qué opinas del Estatut y de sus recortes? ¿Qué opinas del Tribunal Constitucional?

- ¿Qué es Cataluña? ¿Qué es España?

- Discute la Ley de Inmersión Lingüística que hace que el catalán sea la única lengua vehicular en las escuelas catalanas hasta el momento.

O lo que sea. Necesito opiniones. Necesito gente que diga cosas. Necesito gente de la calle que me explique lo que piensan y lo que dejan de pensar, y sobre todo, que escriban las cosas tal como les sale, utilizando la lengua como mejor les convenga, y como les salga del alma. Pelocha, espero que tú seas la primera en contestar hihihi.

Si quieren permanecer anónimos, enviénme sus pensamientos a halfietnt@gmail.com

Zenkiu feri mach.

Miss you when you're gone

2010-11-29T12:06:00.000Z

Io sono qui e avrei da dire ancora....

The fact is, in every single thing I do, I realise more and more that I miss you. That I have been missing you even if when we chat on Skype I don't look especially excited, if the feedback is cheeky but not melancholic. You've been away for one week and I'm not gonna say "I'm wasting away" or any crazy, stupidly romantic thing, but it is true that I'm moodier, less prone to enjoy things and reluctant to leave the room since you've been gone. The fact that it's snowing like hell outside and I can't do much, and games and stuff keep getting cancelled, and I seem to be compulsory off, it's driving me mad. It's monday, it's still 7 days to go, but it feels like such a long time. Instead, all I want to do is to hold you, or to chat to you about really random things, or just have you there, or hear you breathe, or probably take all the duvet from you and roll away cause you're too warm. That's what I want to do. These empty, stalled days, all I want to do is that. And Skype is not even good enough. Plus I have a very bad wisdom tooth. Not good. I miss you, I miss you when you're gone.

Cause everything's stinking, stinking without you...

Forse mi basta respirare, solo respirare un pò...

Glasgow City 63 - 49 Glasgow Fever - First dancing steps

2010-11-10T09:42:00.000Z

Any sportsperson knows, from an early age, that all that stuff about "The way you train is the way you play" is no bullshit. And we also know that there's a world, an abysmal world, between training and playing. I guess there's no better way to describe, personally, the game yesterday.

In the first place, I am very surprised on how the team showed courage and will to win even when it looked (7 minutes to go) that it was a lost cause and it was going to be an easy 25-30 point game. But no. We lost by 14, yes, but the real difference between the two teams is really 8 points at this stage. It's November, and we have been training once a week for two months, and we have barely played with each other, unlike them, who know each other since they were little (little-er, in their case). And that, united to the lack of inspiration (I myself must have missed at least 10 easy baskets, or baskets that in a normal condition, I should have scored), sealed the deal. It was a good first step, and it's looking good - and it will look better as the time goes by. It's all a matter of training and, as Judi said, of "pub work" hehe. The more we get to know each other, the easier it's gonna be.

It's true, however, that Glasgow City, in the later times, had become a difficult-but-winnable fixture in our basketball calendar. There is always competition, but I (as a Uni player) was used to finding the key to beat their game. You enter the game differently depending on the team you're playing and there's no way to change that - you can force your mind to believe otherwise, but she tends to be stronger than your restrains. You know that playing Storm is hard and includes a high chance of losing the game, whereas you know what's the deal playing the Chiefs, or City, for that matter. Or when it was playing Greenock. Or SPRA. These mental conceptions have radically changed and now beating Cumbernauld has become number one priority to test our real level. This first test was a teaser, but should help us beat this team in home court the next time, cause we have the potential to do so.

On the personal, I felt rusty. Too rusty. It's weird because beginning of November means, to me, full refereeing season therefore full training and conditioning almost every day, but it seems it's not that easy. Again, from refereeing a double header to playing 40 minutes full court up and down, there's an abysmal difference. I think I just need to switch on the right buttons and start listening to Ian Watt when he says I need to penetrate more and chase the play from a closer angle, cause that will mean more running and therefore, better fitness for playing. Well, I got a game to ref and training tonight as well so it's a way to really start working on this.

I am really looking forward to the rest of the season. I had forgotten how playing felt and it is, as usual, a superamazing sensation. Keep it rollin'.

Ps. We look uber cool!

Texto argumentativo

2010-11-08T16:36:00.000Z

No viene al caso... Pero estoy super aburrida, y ayer acabé escribiendo este texto para un ejercicio de conectores, textos argumentativos y toda la polla para mi alumna. Toda la parafernalia para que luego me diga que quiere sólo una hora de clase. Típico. Ah, perdón, SOLO. Sí, que dentro de un mes, si escribo sólo con tilde, la RAE vendrá a darme un cachete. Vayanse a la mierda. Sin tilde. Gracias.

Muy señor mío,

Me dirijo a usted para expresarle mi malestar por una situación que he vivido de primera mano este fin de semana, y que al parecer se repite constantemente en los centros deportivos escoceses. Una servidora se disponía a arbitrar un partido entre los equipos Glasgow Rocks y Highland Bears, de la liga júnior femenina de baloncesto. Ese mismo día, hasta 3 otros partidos de categorías diferentes (cadete, sénior A y sénior B) fueron disputados. Sin embargo, esta cantidad pareció no ser suficiente para los entrenadores locales, ya que algunas de las muchachas que disputaron el primer partido, participaron también en el segundo y tercero o cuarto. De hecho, una de las jugadoras, con el mismo número 25 a la espalda, jugó la friolera de 3 partidos consecutivos, disfrutando en todos de abundantes minutos.

En primera instancia me pareció un hecho puntual, pero cuando pregunté a algunos padres del público, estos me comunicaron que esta situación se produce asiduamente. Dicha jugadora, internacional escocesa, de apenas quince años, no sólo es titular indiscutible de su equipo, el cadete, sino que además juega más de 25 minutos de media para los equipos junior y sénior. En mi modesta opinión, me parece que esta actitud es muy negativa, por innumerables motivos, algunos de los cuales citaré a continuación.

En primer lugar está el desgaste físico. Es cierto que el cuerpo de un joven de 15 años está preparado para el esfuerzo, pero no para el sobreesfuerzo. El entrenamiento continuo puede mejorar sus cualidades, pero el descanso es también esencial para mantener la frescura. El exceso de preparación puede provocar lesiones a medio y largo plazo, sobre todo en la espalda, debido al estrés y la sobrecarga, y eso es intolerable. Me parece muy grave que se esté poniendo en peligro la salud de una menor y su crecimiento a cambio de ganar partidos.

En segundo lugar, las lesiones físicas parecen las más obvias, pero el desgaste mental y la presión a la que se somete a esta y muchas otras jóvenes pueden provocar problemas más profundos, como la depresión o la ansiedad. En este clima, se ven obligadas a rendir al 100% y a llevar el peso del equipo y del partido a una edad demasiado temprana para entender qué es la responsabilidad. Asimismo, estas jóvenes ocupan su tiempo libre exclusivamente jugando a baloncesto y pierden la oportunidad de desarrollar una vida social normal a su edad. Esto puede desembocar en exclusión y fracaso escolar, además de en problemas de comunicación.

Por último, pero no por ello menos importante, el baloncesto es y será un deporte de equipo. Las individualidades refuerzan al equipo pero no se pueden anteponer a él. Hay más jugadoras en ese banquillo que se quedan sin jugar o que son privadas de más minutos de juego por culpa de la voracidad de los entrenadores, cuyo único objetivo es ganar, en lugar de formar jugadores y personas. Mientras una jugadora cadete juega 30 minutos con el equipo júnior y con el sénior, otras chicas de mayor edad que ella, pero de menor calidad, se quedan sin participar y pierden autoestima por culpa de ello. Ellas también son excluidas, y a su vez excluyen a la jugadora popular, porque consideran que les “roba” los minutos, y no andan faltas de razón. Por lo tanto, la cohesión de equipo se ve afectada considerablemente, y el espíritu, vital en el baloncesto, se pierde.

En conclusión, considero personalmente que su publicación debería hacer hincapié en esta situación, mediante un artículo o un reportaje, y de este modo concienciar a los espectadores, los padres y, sobre todo, a los entrenadores de que este fenómeno puede provocar más mal que bien al deporte y a los deportistas, y recordar que, en el fondo, ellos no se encargan de montar y ensamblar máquinas de ganar, sino que están formando personas. Por favor, disfrutemos todos del baloncesto.

Espero su pronta respuesta y le agradezco de antemano su colaboración,

Bekelauer

La cosa está muy mal...

2010-11-03T10:36:00.001Z

...Y el mundo ya no es lo que era. Bueno, dudo mucho que haya cambiado en algo en los últimos tiempos, y no creo que esté más loco de lo que lo estaba antes. Pero ahora tengo el mismo miedo de abrir las páginas web de los periódicos que tenía dos años atrás, cuando los primeros indicios de la crisis creaban titulares espantosos. Jamás se vio un "se va a acabar el mundo". Pero ahora no lo descarto.

Demasiadas cosas en la actualidad que sientan como bofetadas a primeras horas de la mañana. Los paquetes bomba de los griegos, las palabras homófobas y machistas de Berlusconi, la derrota de Obama en las legislativas en Estados Unidos... Y en general, el enfoque crispado de las noticias, según se sea de un bando o de otro. Ya nada es cosmopolita, ya nada es internacional. España está muy mal, pero el resto tampoco está mejor. Rajoy diciendo que se apoyará en el Tribunal Constitucional para revocar la Ley del Matrimonio Homosexual. El mismo tribunal que declaró "Inconstitucional" más de la mitad de las leyes del Estatut. Otra bofetada más en el camino. Los recortes de Cameron, que Mariano le parecen lo más cool desde el baño de Fraga en Palomares. Un país de viejos. No tanto como Italia, pero aún así un país de viejos. De estancados. De poco que hacer. Le tengo que preguntar a mi madre qué piensa ella de cómo va España. Me parece el único dato verídico de todo esto. Sé que estoy hablando a trasquilones, pero así es como me siento. Si las cosas siguen así, cada vez digo y diré con la boca más pequeña que soy española. Es muy feo que sólo me sienta orgullosa de la Copa del Mundo, porque el resto de cosas me dan asco.

Es mejor que deje de leer los periódicos, me sentiré mucho mejor. Paradójicamente, es lo mismo que ha recomendado Berlusconi. Por única vez, creo que Il Cavaliere tiene algo de razón, aunque me de miedo admitirlo. El aire, de todas maneras, está demasiado contaminado.

Contaminame, mézclate conmigo...

rage spill

2010-09-26T22:36:00.000+01:00

Moron.
Full of yourself.
Hypocritical.
Empty.

This all adds up to me not standing you. Not much else to say. I'm bloody ragin'.

Unfitness and aimlessness

2010-09-23T11:17:00.000+01:00

There are many things in life that have very little explanation. Like how after weeks of one training, one drop in session, several games to referee and at least 20 hours working as a waitress, I still am so unfit is UNBELIEVABLE. Or it feels so. Last night I felt a crack on my hamstring and decided to stop, for the good of the game and of my legs.

This sends me back to the idea that being skinny does not necessarily mean to be fit. Actually it normally means not to be fit. In the last month I have probably lost all the excess baggage I had on my ass after the gastronomic holidays, but I still don't feel competitive at all. Hitting the gym could be a solution, but it is so boring I'd rather not. Plus I have some many other things to do that I can't just be bothered. Ack well.

It's full September now in Glasgow meaning that I am already missing having mudguards on my bike just now cause it's raining so much I can't go anywhere. We were coming from training last night and it was a total riot. Rivers and seas were coming down from the sky - we got so soaked I can't even wear my jacket today. It's not even funny. And the roads are wet so no mudguards, no bike, no transport. Meeh. I guess this weekend we're gonna try to fix that, cause I'm moving out next week and I don't have an excuse, I need to be able to go from one place to the other in less than 10 minutes. Such is life.

I don't have anything else to say. I know this post was a bit random and not coherent but that's all I wanted to say. Whatever. Oh, yeah, try the Little Cafe, nice coffee and two pizzas for a tenner, and the Lock Inn, probably the best sticky toffee pudding in town, plus you can play Monopoly, Connect 4 or Scrabble while you're at it. Always good fun.

Te quise tanto y ahora...

2010-09-15T11:18:00.000+01:00

...ahora me traicionas.

Te he querido tanto, que aullaban los perros.
Gritaban los sordos, lloraban los cuerdos...

Pero ¡qué ganas de llorar y de cagarse en la puta madre de los que mandan en la University of Glasgow! Me está probando la pacienca, de esa manera tan estúpida que sólo las instituciones y lugares a los que has jurado amor eterno puede hacer. Estoy esperando el momento en el que la señora de la biblioteca venga a echarme, porque sé que lo hará, y me convertiré en persona non grata para siempre. No podré mirar sus libros ni desordenar sus estanterías porque para la universidad, si no eres estudiante, no eres nadie. Da igual que seas uno de esos tan preciados alumni de los que tanto alardean. Si no pagas, ya te puedes caer muerto en una esquina. Con un simple "Security spot checks may occur" me dicen claramente que un día, no muy lejano, me encontrarán, y será el fin de nuestro amor. Porque yo soy ilegal, sí, pero una ilegal enamorada. Y eso debería contar, porque muchas mañanas, yo soy la única que da un poco de vidilla al lugar. Si no fuera por mí, quizá no habría nadie. Un día se enteraran que les he robado el alma a sus libros sin haber pagado antes y sé que eso les va a demoler. Porque a mí me tiene un poco de aprecio, espero. Pero se acabará. It's the beginning of the end...

Y que no me vengan con el tema de que es mejor que nadie desordene los libros, que si para algo has escogido ser bibliotecaria, es para apechugar con las consecuencias de encontrarte gente como YO. O sea, unas tocacojones en toda regla.

Te quiero, y por eso te añoraré. No me defraudes ahora. O tu puesto lo ocupará alguien que no quieres y desde donde te escribo estas letras. Sé que la conoces. Se llama Hillhead.

Log2. I may regret it, but I may apply for that job. It'll still be eating shit, but at a more reasonable price.

Campeones!

2010-09-09T09:29:00.000+01:00

Y este año, no vamos a ganar nada. Y no se sabe cuando volveremos a ganar algo. Pero campeones somos campeones. Y lo seremos siempre. Juegue quien juegue, gane quien gane.

Ayer estuve muy mal, de hecho la tarde se empezó a nublar después de ver el triple de Teodosic (lo siento, Milos, pero como persona me das asco, y no por tu triple, si no por tu dudosa actitud 'deportiva'. En mi opinión, ni tú ni Krstic deberías haber jugado el Mundial... Serbia probablemente hubiera ganado a España de todas maneras porque ni tú ni el otro hicisteis NADA). Fue descorazonador. Fue el mejor partido que recuerdo de Jorge Garbajosa desde la final de 2006. Y la Bomba estuvo supremo. Me da igual que Marc Gasol no metiera cincuenta puntos, que Rudy sólo se despertara en la segunda mitad y que Ricky estuviera más fuera que dentro. Me da igual que digan que Mumbrú está viejo, que Fran no piensa, que Felipe no es el que era. Me da igual que digan que Llull es un pollo sin cabeza, Víctor y San Emeterio unas comparsas o que Raül López necesite silla de ruedas. Todo esto es ENVIDIA, señores. Ayer España jugó bien. Muy bien, incluso. No jugó "como los ángeles", pero es que los ángeles no juegan. Y Serbia jugó mejor, y tuvo mucho más acierto. Hay quien dice que no defendimos, que no se le puede dar espacio para que los serbios te metan 15 triples. Pero es que la mitad de estos triples fueron punteados. Garbajosa defendió a Teodosic. Lo que el serbio tuvo una potra de campeonato para meter ese chusco desde nueve metros. Porque yo creo que lo tira diez veces más y no le entrarían. Pero ayer, entró.

Somos campeones. Fuimos campeones, y hasta el domingo lo seguiremos siendo hasta que se erija un sucesor. Podría ser Serbia, pero creo que Turquía, Estados Unidos y Argentina vienen con mucha fuerza. Y seguiremos siendo campeones. Los jugadores no son buenos o malos por el partido de ayer. Garbajosa no hubiera sido un héroe de haber taponado a Teodosic, y hoy Marc Gasol no es un villano por estar muy por debajo de sus posibilidades.Y Gasol, Pau, no es Dios. Pero decidme a cuantas finales ha llegado Rusia sin Kirilenko, Alemania sin Nowitzki, Serbia sin su generación del 75, Argentina sin Ginóbili y Grecia sin Papaloukas... Pocas o ninguna.

Los campeones lo serán siempre y les tenemos que estar eternamente agradecidos. Por dar lo mejor de sí mismos, por habernos brindado la oportunidad de sentirnos y ser un país campeón, por darnos la oportunidad de interesarnos por el campeonato sabiendo que "este año podemos ganar" y por quitarnos ese lastre de país perdedor o segundón. Porque no lo somos. Hoy, más que nunca, somos y seremos SIEMPRE CAMPEONES. Que quede claro! Toca levantarse, mirar hacia adelante, y seguir luchando por ser los mejores. A día de hoy, ser los mejores, significaría acabar quintos. Es el momento.

Log1: Y que se calle ya la puta boca la gente que critica a Pau por no ir, y la gente que critica a Sergio Scariolo. Que sí, que no es Pepu ni Aíto, pero entiende el baloncesto como ninguno, y entiende a esta selección. Yo también soy de las que le gritaba "Scariolo, hijo de puta" en el Palau Blaugrana hace unos años, pero ahora es el técnico de la selección, con contrato hasta 2012, y espero que se cumpla. Porque lo que no podemos hacer ahora es cargarnos a todos por haber perdido. Esta selección vale mucho, y se recuperará. Hay que darle ánimos, confianza y ESTABILIDAD. Como bien ha dicho Rudy, en 2005 también nos llevamos un chasco y luego fuimos campeones en 2006. Pues eso. Yo también quería jubilar a Garba, y ayer se marcó un partido de antología. No lo olvidemos.

Log2: Un aplauso a Ivkovic por el equipo que se ha montado, y una ovación grande a Velickovic, que ayer estuvo descomunal. Para mí, sin duda, el MEJOR, en todos los sentidos, del partido. Por eso creo que el triple final lo hubiera tenido que meter él. Hubiera sido más justo y hoy, yo no estaría tan jodida.

E voler piangere

2010-09-04T10:49:00.000+01:00

I look at next week's calendar and I want to CRY.

I am not a fan of working in the SECC. I had a (horrible) experience once and I think I should not repeat it again. But I am a poor cheap soul and working 3 days there I'd be making more than a third of the rent, so I can't say no, I have to take it. In preparation for that, I'm working at the KG today and tomorrow, and I have a student tomorrow as well (altho that is actually the only positive work of the weekend, so to speak).

So there's training, there's drop in, there are 3 students, there are 32 hours of crap work. Agency-wise, I will have worked only 4 days this week. And student-wise, I had a late cancellation. That tends to cost me around £40 altogether. Not even cool.

There are some positives looming in the distance too. September will be well on the way. National League starts and, as it seems, I will be refereeing next weekend (goodbye agency woo hoo). We shall expect higher numbers at training. We're going to get a new bike, and possibly a couch for my new flat. And hecticness is back on and you know we love it. Such is life.

Log1. I just love teaching. I need to get to talk to my adviser as soon as possible and give the Masters idea a bit of a shape.

Log2. I bought the most horrible shoes ever in Primark. This is how shite work really is. Wearing granny shoes to be a waitress. Shame.

End of August update

2010-08-31T11:18:00.000+01:00

I've been absent for quite a while, I know. I should write whatever I feel no matter the commitments, but I find it nicer to lie on the couch in company or argue about washing the dishes than just to write my thoughts in a, after all, stupid blog. This is the first day in like 2 weeks (not counting the weekend I was sick) that I'm lying on the couch at 11 am with the only pressure being that I need to go to Morrison's to buy some food for the romantic birthday dinner tonight. The agency hasn't called (and quite frankly, I think I would reject a shift for today right now, so don't even try me) and I have a student this evening. Nice and funny how I have booked someone today for 2 hours and that is gonna give me more money than working four hours anywhere else. I love it :)

But let's go point by point. Lots of things are changing, or at least being updated for the best. Work is not really one of them. I do get more shifts - last week I worked 17 hours - but it still feels like I'm going nowhere with that. I have learnt a lot about catering and serving and stuff so I could even work as a regular waitress somewhere else, but it's not something that makes my chest pound. I'm good with working 20 hours if necessary, even a bit more, as I understand that I am not using my mornings for anything else and a 12-4 shift is rather comfortable, but I would not be happy having a regular job doing that. In the past few months I've been running a social experiment to see how people respond to working in places or doing things they don't like, and the results are terrible. So I might be the same status of a paper napkin, but I am free to fly and that's what makes me better at the end of the day.

It is the end of August, season is looming in the distance, and is being drawn closer. Kids are back to school so school games will be on soon. National League starts in ten days. Friendlies are coming up as well. Basketball is about to crack open, like a headless chicken. It's all full of random hecticness but I like it because it is part of the game. Soon, my weekends and evenings will be filled with basketball commitments, further than just the one training and drop in sessions. I like it, I love it, even. Not that lying on the couch in company is something I don't like - on the contrary, I really love it - but some movement from time to time is also good. I feel miserable when basketball is not on, so you see. This year, again, there are gonna be loads of games and chances to do big and earn big - even our fees have been risen, woo hoo, so it's looking good.

Then, I have Halfie T&T. I thought it might end up being just a random idea, provoked by the lack of work and the quiet depression I was trying to get out of this summer. I thought it was just Sophie's idea of giving me something to do, of trying to make me happy somehow. But right now, it is growing strong week by week and I'm so excited about it that it can't even compare to, you know, "work". This is proper work for me, and the more it goes, the more I see maybe teaching Spanish is my real call in life. Sure, I love translating. But this is even bigger - and who knows, maybe one day it becomes real big and I can turn it into a business. We will see - so far, I can't complain because I have achieved everything we planned. I have secured 4 regular students, and another one who's on a temporary break, but will certainly come back in about a month. And I'm looking to increase this number, but of course, with the normal fashion - not just getting "everybody I can", but to building a proper continuous relationship with them. It's the first step to everything. I could not be happier - and my skills are improving too. Soon I wil be able to go meet my former uni tutor and talk to her about the possibility of trying a Masters in Research - but let's not go too fast. Things are working now, I'm happy.

And last, but not the least is I FOUND A FLAT. Not only I found a flat but I have also paid a deposit for it, and signed a contract, so it is official, I'm moving in in October. I had the feeling I was not going to find a flat because, well, all the places I had been to, they looked terrible, or looked too good to be true, or I had to explain the tenants about bills and CT and everything. But no, now it's sorted. I went to see it and I loved it. I started talking to the man showing me it, who happens to be the resident landlord, and we had a blast, we laughed a lot, and he decided that if I wanted the room, he was gonna give it to me and cancel the rest of the appointments. Quicker done than said, almost. The room is very big for me - normal for other people, it's a third floor, has a large window, king size bed and enough room to put an armchair and a TV where I can play with my PlayStation :) The guy seems very professional and quite the banter and I like that. It's in Woodlands Road, almost overlooking Park Circus Place (my first pretty flat - oh the memories!) and it's only a 15 minute walk to Sauchie, probably even less because Sophie and I are planning to invest in another bike, so as to make it easier and quicker for me to go up and down.

I love living here, but I can't wait to move in there. I will still be spending most of the nights here, it's true, but having a room of my own, something that "belongs to me", is very important. It's the last piece of my adult independence - being able to work and afford a flat, something that has never really happened before. It will be re-gaining possession of my life. I appreciate having lived here and at Adi's and at Roni's, yes, I am very thankful to all of you who have helped me getting back my life, and of course in the not so distant future, I know my place is here, living with Soph, but it shows matureness and independence to actually have a room. It means that whatever happens, that is "mine". And up until now, the only thing I have owned in the last few months is my coffeemaker, and my box of crap, so it feels quite awesome to have something more "real", let's say. I know leaving Glasgow in the first place last year was a bad mistake, but only because I left and I suffered the impossible to get back my status here, that I value the city, what it offers, and what it means to me. I am very thankful that everything happened like that, because now, well, now everything makes sense.

This is not the end of the fairy tale, this is just the beginning. Let's see how everything else develops :)

Bday wishes

2010-08-31T10:42:00.002+01:00

Happy birthday, my sweetie.

You're officially 26, Miss Syrup Poo Loo :)

High on enjoying the hols

2010-08-06T23:54:00.000+01:00

I am genuinely happy. I know it sounds sort of weird to put it that way but it is so true. It all has an explanation behind.

There was a time, back in the day, when coming back to Spain was a reason to be scared and preparing myself for the worst, for the fiercest criticism and the saddest looks. Also the funniest, I guess. It was a big pain in the arse just to deal with everything that came along with it; irritable friends, dreadful family members and dull dead evenings. as much as I am, let's face it, a bit bored some times, I have to say this has been the smoothest trip home in quite a while. Must be because it does not include some people I really don't wan to see, or because I have finally become a normal and mature person as for not to make a drama out of not being able to see someone I really want to see. This trip has improved exponentially ever since last night, on the webcam, I saw my little Frutaki's facial painful expression of being really missing me, and how nice is to love and be loved in return.

I am in Barcelona, and I am happy. I am enjoying my holidays to the fullest, doing nothing but lying on the couch, playing PS and the Wii with my cousin and having tones of food. I don't care if I come back and I have put two or three kilos. Once the season is back, my fitness will also be back. Right now is about falling into all the (possible) Earthly temptations once and again, everything that, once I'm back to the city that never sobers up, I'm not going to be able to enjoy. My kilos and the memory of my eating afternons will be gone soon.

And so, I'm still here, but leaving soon for other realms of food pleasure and the more I think I'm enjoying it, the less I think that I'm missing the Frutaki. I miss her like crazy tho, but I manage to blind my conciousness with things to do. Even if it's a season with Inter Milan at FIFA 08.

Log. Bought a new white bag and green neon laces. Total ace.

Log2. Mahna, mahna...

Waiting

2010-08-01T11:41:00.000+01:00

There's nothing worse than waiting. Waiting for pretty much anything, really. Even if it's a good thing you're waiting for, the wait in itself can be so dreadful that you kinda lose focus on why is it so good to be waiting for something. Right now, at least this morning, I've been suffering for two terrible types of waiting: the dull and certainly tense dead hours in the morning when you have to go to work sort of late (noon in this case, at least today) and the awfully boring wait I have been dragging ever since Soph left on thursday - the wait for the holidays.

I am normally not that excited to be going away, as I do not hate this country or this weather as a matter of fact. It is just a bit boring when you know you have nothing to do. I put some pressure on myself to finish the lesson for Caz yesterday (as I was checking the internet and watching Friends at the same time) but then I found out she can't come before I go. I have sorted out all my clothes and books and this afternoon I'll get to go to Primark to buy a small cabin suitcase that I can check-in on my way to Girona and get rid of all these books and papers. That means I have NOTHING ELSE to do in the next couple of days. I am leaving on Tuesday. It can take forever.

Good news is at least I am working today and tomorrow, to make the wait lighter. I like it in the KG and they sort of like me too, but that can also get a bit dull. It's all good, I get to think about my own stuff because crumbling down and carrying trays is not exactly the most scientific job in the world. It's good if I start off the day making a list of things I want to do this afternoon, all teaching-wise - that way the day will go thru real easy. If I start and all I'm thinking of is how I miss the Frutaki or how quickly I want the day to go by so I got my holidays soon, it's gonna be terrible. Good thing is I haven't work there in quite a while so I guess I'll have some stuff to catch up with Brian or whoever is there (most likely him as it's Sunday). And I ate so much last night that it'll be good to keep my legs working and burning all the shite I've been stuffing my face on ever since Soph left. It's been only 3 days and God knows how awesome it is that I only have other 2 days to go because I feel I am becoming a total FAT BASTARD.

So now I'm off to get ready and enjoy the day and then, well, start packing. Funny how it's most likely that I will only bring like 2 kilos of clothes in my bag... Yes, I am improving my Ryanair skills a lot. HA!

Log: I used this facial cleansing thing with mud-style cream. It was funny and scary and just got no idea if that cleansed any of my pores haha.

Log2: I just love the surf hair and having 5 types of hair wax/putty/styler in my bathroom. I got more crap for my hair than for the total of my body. Haha!

Cambio de tercio - De la prohibición de los toros al ser rancio

2010-07-29T11:52:00.000+01:00

El Parlament de Catalunya aprobó ayer la reforma de Ley para la Protección de los Animales que prohíbe las corridas de toros en territorio catalán a partir de 2012. Se decía que iba a ser una votación reñida, visto que tanto PSC como CiU habían dado "libertad de votación" a sus miembros de partido, y sólo PP, ERC y els Verds tenían órdenes de equipo. Pues bien, se aprobó con 68 votos a favor, 55 en contra y 9 abstenciones - vamos, que not even close. Uno de los votos en contra fue el del President Montilla, que declaró que había votado en contra porque él es "defensor de la libertad".

Vale, todo eso fue ayer. La marabunta empezó a rugir tan sólo minutos después.

Los orígenes. La primera y única premisa que quiero dar es que la propuesta para la enmienda de la ley vino de una plataforma (Prou!) en defensa de los derechos de los animales promovida por los ciudadanos (180,000 firmas) y que afecta simplemente al territorio de Catalunya y tiene valor 'interiorista', es decir, no pretende promover la abolición de la llamada Fiesta Nacional en ninguna otra comunidad autónoma por el momento.

Pues bien, según parece, y leyendo muchos periódicos de Madrid, ¡ESPAÑA ESTÁ EN PELIGRO! Corred, poneos a salvo, defended vuestra patria con capote y espada y demostrad al mundo que sois pro-españoles y anti-catalanes de paso. Yo me meo de la risa, o al menos quería hacerlo. Me he puesto a leer lo que se decía en diferentes medios, La Razón, el ABC y el Mundo, por ejemplo, y en vez de risotadas, me venían ganas de arrancarle la cabeza a alguien. Pero el colofón de todo ha sido leer en portada en el Marca, que se supone que es un periódico deportivo, que "Los independentistas consiguen prohibir las corridas en Catalunya".

¿Los independentistas? Ah, sí, esos que creen que Carod Rovira es el salvador de la indefensa patria catalana. Entonces, si yo estoy contenta de que se prohíban los toros, ¿me convierte esto en seguidora de este tan desafortunado como estúpido señor? Porque no lo soy...

Lo que está provocando mi rabia y creo que la de muchos catalanes como yo, es que se quiera poner en tela de juicio, desde Madrid, que la prohibición de los toros sea sólo una acción en favor de los animales. Parece ser que no, que prohibimos los toros para demostrar que queremos ser independientes y para contrarrestar el fallo del chistoso Tribunal Constitucional de pasar por la trituradora el Estatut. Muchos catalanes son anti-anti-españoles, pero creo que cada vez los están empujando hacia el lado oscuro. Y es que yo me siento muy catalana y muy española, pero cuando veo y leo tanto comentario que asocia la cosa más natural del ser humano como el rechazo a la tortura con el rechazo y el odio hacia la propia patria, no sé qué pensar. "Ah, es que eres catalana, no?" Ya estamos. Sí, soy catalana, y me paseo con mi traje tradicional y voy bailando sardanas por los sitios, no te jode. E independentista también, ya de paso está en el lote, que lo dicen en Madrid. Que sí, hombre, que en Madrid todo lo que dicen es verdad, y si Rajoy dice que España está en peligro, pues España está en peligro, que los independentistas son muy malos y son los que secuestraron a su niña, los que atentaron contra las Torres Gemelas, los que mataron a Franco y los que provocaron su accidente de helicóptero. Que si lo dice Rajoy es verdad. También dijo que iba a ganar las elecciones en 2004 y 2008, y mira...

Los números. "Los toros les gustan a todo el mundo y no los deberían quitar". La última encuesta dice que el 38% de los españoles no creen que las corridas sean su Fiesta Nacional y el grupo de Facebook tiene casi medio millón de seguidores. Si hombre, es una cruzada catalanista, no animalista. Que lo dicen en Madrid.

Y a vueltas con todo este escenario de repulsión, leo un comentario anónimo a un artículo en La Razón que dice "No se olvide de que la propuesta para la abolición es popular, no política, y que la petición viene de los ciudadanos, no de los independentistas". Que los políticos se aprovechan de todo y está claro que muchos en el seno de los partidos nacionalistas ven esto como un "tóma tóma!" en la cara de los españolitos es cierto. Pero de ahí a que esto sea el primer paso para la independencia, me van a perdonar, pero qué imbecilidades. Se están fusionando ecuaciones con el tocino y la velocidad. Y eso me parece ridículo, por decirlo suave. Al final, los que se van a cargar España son los que tanto proclaman su unidad.

Perdedores. El discurso ahora es que los pro-taurinos, y la corte de gente que se les ha subido al carro (pro-taurinos también, pero muchos a los que se la suda los toros y lo hacen solo para subirse al tren anticatalanista) van a llevar esta decisión al Tribunal Constitucional para que la declare "anticonstitucional". Que la tortura es nuestra fiesta y como tal debemos mantenerla por el arte y tirón que tiene. Y porque nos hace "más españoles". Del TC me puedo esperar de todo. De todo, de verdad. Y seguro que el TC piensa que el Estatut es inconstitucional, y los toros son super constitucionales. España es tan moderna, democrática y progre que me cago de la ilusión.

Y para acabar, voy a citar a Pepe Rubianes, que era un gran sabio... "Que le den por culo a la unidad de España y su puta madre, que se callen de una puta vez". Porque, después de todo, ¿qué cojones le importa a Madrid lo que se haga en Barcelona?

Beyond words

2010-07-12T17:44:00.002+01:00

"There's a difference between being polite and being honestly gentle"

You are so right, and I want to pull my hair out.

E mi abbandono a te...

I look at the wall while thinking what else to add about adjectives in the new lesson. You are always so right. No need to say much, you're way better and beyond words. Because the fact that you can read beyond all that and tell me that I'm a jerk while showing me that you sincerely love me proves many things.

Proves that I miss you just the now. Resta qui per un pò...

It'll be a long, cold night. You are beyond words.

Scriverò il tuo nome in maiuscolo, fino che non sia grande come te...

Esisti dentro me...

Campeones!!

2010-07-12T11:12:00.000+01:00

Y cada vez que leo cómo describen el gol de el-puto-amo-del-balón Andrés Iniesta, la dedicatoria para el grandísimo Dani Jarque, el beso de Iker a la Carbonero, el levantamiento de la copa y el plantillazo de De Jong a Xabi Alonso... ME PONGO A LLORAR.

Así que, como se me han acabado las palabras, dejo imágenes. Creo que he llorado más de lo que he gritado para celebrar esta copa del mundo! Muy mal, por mi parte, pero es lo que tiene. Desde Glasgow con amor, por eso...

Grillo

2010-07-11T14:06:00.002+01:00

"Told you so"...

I think I should have learnt from certain things. However, there is always a comforting look when I turn around. Some people take longer to get where they want, they only need to know where they want to go. And il Marchese del Grillo comes like water of May in these circumstances.

"Mi dispiace, ma io so' io, e voi non siete un cazzo"
(Oh, I'm sorry, but I am who I am, and you are fucking nobodies")

It's not me, it's you

2010-07-09T16:01:00.001+01:00

Must be that with the age and hormones, one gets moodier at a certain times. Maybe with reason, maybe without reason. Things that annoy you, and you can't help but to feel frustrated. Shit happens, you know. Some times, it's just "not your day". I'm reinventing that and trying to focus on the positives always helps. One tends to realise, in the end, that it's all a result of overreaction.

That was one thing. Then there's another. I was chatting to one of my BCN friends, Raier, who congratulated me for a comment I had on Facebook the other day. A "serious" comment that helped, in just a few words, to put away a growing fire on a conversation. The comment was preceded by a very unfortunate comment by one of my (now former) FB contacts, that then was followed by an update in that person's status, reinforcing the value of the comment. After I said "that's it", this person tried to mitigate her words by a total hypocritical and short comment on my thread. Next thing I know, she has deleted and blocked me from her contacts. It's not anyone to be missed, but I wonder, was it necessary to make such a fuss out of something that did not concern that person? Really?

The background topic was, again, football. And the fact that Spain has reached the final. I don't really understand why, but a lot of people hate the fact that we are there. After many years of being total losers, the moment we achieve something important (which, I think, should generate some sympathy in our confronts, and not hatred) everybody wants us to lose? Why can't we have a portion of success? I don't think Spaniards are, in general, such bad winners like other nations have showed, and so far, they have not gotten into any controversy like, to name an example, Maradona or Rooney have. So then, why all this rage? Is it jealousy? No? Then what is it? Cause I can't really figure it out.

Anyway, Raier's congratulation message was sort of relieving. I had started to think it was my thing. Turns out, it's not. Or to quote Lily Allen, it's not me, it's you. Tough shite, dude.

Log. To everyone's peace of mind, I think I'm totally back to the blog. I feel terrible not posting even the smallest crap. I will upload some Keane pics one of these days.

Ilusion - and our friend Paul.

2010-07-08T12:53:00.000+01:00

Right, so, first of all, let's put some pictures that deserve recognition...

So, in a normal post I would probably not mix football with octopuses, but after what we have been living lately, it is time to thank Paul the octopus for predicting that Spain would win and wish him luck cause I'm sure they're gonna try to cook him soon, as his popularity has gone way down after Germany's loss.

True story is, Paul had nothing to do with it. It was Puyol, Carles, the boy from La Pobla, the guy that resembles the most to a bull in the Spanish squad (testicles included), who scored the winning goal. I lived the game and celebrations in Coopers, in Great Western Road, with an amazing Spanish atmosphere, with loads of fellow Spaniards and football chants to Villa, to Spain, and to everything known. Great, because we were all "Spanish" again, and that's what I want to focus on in this post.

Spain has to win the World Cup. I'm not saying they will or they can, but that they have to. They have the obligation to do so, and there is a reason why. After the semifinal, the entire was out partying and celebrating, everyone under the same flag, all different yet all Spanish. I can't believe that we would all "turn like that" just for football, but hey, it is true - a football team has managed to unite the country more than 100 years of stupid politics, 40 years of unitarian dictatorship and millions of political calls to cooperation and togetherness. Spain has never been more united. It's like nobody wants to create any discussion with the whole plurinational state, with Catalonia, with the Basque country, with economy blah blah. For a month, we seem to have forgotten that we of all Europeans, are the ones closest to the edge (the Greeks have already gone down the cliff, so I don't count them). We are a very imperfect country, yet here we are, almost on top of the world. And that's why Spain has to win the World Cup. Not only because it'll be the first one, not only because we'll be the first European team to win it in non-European soil, not only because we are the team who plays the best football; but because Spain, as a country, needs it - needs to have a winning image, an icon to look at and say "I am proud to be Spanish", something that a couple of years ago, we would never imagine. And all this, just because of a football team. So, VAMOS ESPAÑA!

Log. There'll be plenty who will say "This team is just FC Barcelona, but with 4 other players" and they'll be right. Whatever the reason to cheer for Spain, it counts as a cheer. Yes, half of the team are Catalans. Course, cause we are that good. We are also Spanish. So let's all play together and bring home something that's bigger than anyone of us - a world trophy!

Log2. Setting up of Halfie T&T is going slowly but nicely. I have the poster already and I'm gonna make a new one while I update the website. I am really hopeful that this will work. Really, really hopeful!

Intérpretes en bicicleta o "Españoles por el mundo: el último incidente"

2010-06-28T12:53:00.006+01:00

Hace mil que no posteo, y no por falta de ganas. He estado bastante ocupada, con turnos de trabajo un poco de mierda, y con muchas cosas en la cabeza. Y me han pasado mil historias (entre ellas, la última y más puteante, que ayer nos robaron la bici), pero esta la tengo que escribir a petición de Pelocha.

La semana pasada estuve trabajando en las Glasshouses en Queen's Park, un parque bastante grande en el South Side de la ciudad. Yo no era muy fan del South Side hasta hace bien poco; me pensaba que todo se limitaba a lugares tan peligrosos y conflictivos como Govan o Ibrox. Sin embargo estoy descubriendo que va un poco por zonas; Shawlands, que es donde está este parque, es una especie de calco del West End. De todos modos, la zona que va paralela al río Clyde, donde hay mucha industria y mucho niño descamisado bebiendo Irn Bru, sigue siendo un lugar bastante 'feo'.

El otro día, volvía yo de trabajar en bici (cuando todavía no nos la habían robado). El trayecto es una media hora, lo mismo que tarda el bus. Yo iba con mi iPod (en una oreja sólo), mi camiseta de España con el número de Fábregas en las espalda, y mi bandolera griega. Me paré en un semáforo y vi que un coche de la policía se me puso al lado para cortarme el paso. Al momento pensé "mierda, me vienen a multar por llevar el iPod". Sin embargo, la agente me dice por la ventanilla "Sé que es un poco random, pero, ¿eres española?". La miro con cara de "eing?" y le digo que sí. Y el agente [que conducía] me dice, lentamente y subrayando cada sílaba, como si fuera retrasada mental "Entiendes el inglés perfectamente?", a lo que yo respondí "Aye", con mi más puro acento scottish. Pues van y en vez de multarme por llevar el iPod, me dicen que a 100 metros del lugar hay una casa para los sin techo y tienen a un chico español que no habla inglés y con el que tienen problemas de comunicación porque el interprete no habla español. Y obviamente, me piden si por favor les puedo echar un cable, a lo que estoy encantadísima.

Cojo la bici y llego al lugar de marras, y resulta que tienen al chico al teléfono con el intérprete dentro de un coche de policía. Le digo a una agente que me han dicho que les ayude, que yo hablo español. La chica muy amable me explica que Pepe [por ponerle un nombre ficticio], el chico español, no tiene dinero y que está intentando quedarse a pasar la noche en la casa para los sin techo, pero que están al completo y que hasta el viernes (y estábamos a martes, creo) no le iban a poder ayudar. Empiezo a hablar con el chico, le cuento todo y obviamente su única preocupación es saber dónde va a poder dormir hasta el susodicho viernes, y que no tiene nada de dinero para mantenerse. Los agentes sospechan y empiezo a sentirme como en un capítulo de UK Borders, que tanto nos hemos tragado mientras comíamos pollo frito en casa de Pelocha, que a ella le encanta (el programa, no el pollo).

Pepe resulta ser de padre español y madre marroquí (su acento y su aspecto le delatan), nacido en Barcelona y con todos los papeles en regla, presuntamente. Se vino a Glasgow hace un mes buscando trabajo por la crisis, y estaba viviendo en casa de un amigo, que súbitamente se ha mudado a Londres, y le ha dicho que se busque la vida. Yo interpreto que más que un amigo, este chico es un hijo de la gran bretaña, o un conocido, que lo iba a ayudar pero que al final ha actuado egoístamente y se ha largado. Pepe no sabe ni una palabra de inglés (me pregunta, por ejemplo, que qué significa "all right") y se pensaba que como en UK todo es jauja, iba a encontrar trabajo pronto e iba a poder pagarse un lugar en el que vivir. Tiene poco sentido, a decir verdad, hacer las maletas e irse a un país extranjero sin saber una palabra del idioma y con pocos fondos - se ha tenido que ver en una situación desesperada, o sin el apoyo de sus padres, para acabar queriendo dormir en una casa para los sin techo en Glasgow.

La poca credibilidad de la historia hace que el agente (el mismo que me ha tratado de subnormal, pero que ahora se piensa que yo soy mejor que Money Penny) empiece a dudar de la nacionalidad de Pepe, y me pregunta que si el DNI y el pasaporte parecen de verdad. El DNI sí: está un poco arrugado, pero sí. Además es rosa y no tiene una X al principio del número, lo que indica que Pepe es español 100%. El pasaporte no tanto. Uno se piensa cuando ve estas cosas por la tele, que es muy fácil diferenciar lo verdadero de lo falso, y que los veredictos vienen por sí solos en cuestión de segundos. Pero yo inspecciono el pasaporte de Pepe, y lo que me parece es que en la comisaría de su barrio están ahorrando en papel, porque parece sacado de los chinos, pero que en el fondo creo que es de verdad. Le digo al agente lo que pienso: que por el DNI pondría la mano en el fuego, pero que no puedo arrojar un veredicto por el pasaporte. Esto hace que el agente quiera llevarse a Pepe a la central para comprobar que es de verdad. Para mi sorpresa, Pepe no se enfuerece ni se pone nervioso, sino que se ríe, porque sabe que se van a encontrar con que es español. Menos mal. Después del paso por la central, prometen echarle una mano a encontrar donde dormir, pero tampoco le pueden asegurar nada.

Tras 20 minutos de conversación, los agentes se deciden por esto último, y me agradecen la colaboración, ya que sin mi ayuda, oh!, quién sabe cuánto hubieran tardado en comunicarse con el pobre Pepe. Yo me voy bastante satisfecha. La poca gente a la que le he contado esta historia, me ha dicho que me tenía que sentir mal por Pepe, y yo sin embargo, me siento bien por haber hecho algo con lo que aspiro a ganarme la vida algún día, y me demuestra que lo puedo hacer desde ya (¿señal divina?). El destino de Pepe es incierto, pero es algo que no es de mi incumbencia, por más compatriota que sea. Yo sé lo que es estar desesperado y sin trabajo, pero uno no puede hacer las cosas "a lo loco" y luego esperar que otra persona le solucione la vida. Y más, porque me parece que Pepe es una víctima de el grandísimo y hijoputísimo programa Españoles por el mundo, porque para él, Londres y Glasgow eran lo mismo, cuando todos sabemos que no lo es. Yo tengo muchos amigos que me han ayudado, pero siempre he tenido recursos "como persona" para salir adelante - las ganas de trabajar, el saber el idioma, el conocer la cultura. Puede que esto me convierta en una desalmada, pero es que yo no soy una "española por el mundo", de hecho, desde que Pelocha se fue, sólo tengo una conocida española aquí, a la que no veo, por cierto, desde hace años. Para mí, la nacionalidad no es una característica concluyente - yo me baso en como es la gente, por eso tengo una muy variada lista de amistades. Puede que sea un poco hipócrita, pero soy sincera sobre como me siento.

Y hasta aquí el incidente. No hubo para más. Por motivos de confidencialidad, no les dí mi número de teléfono a los agentes, porque en este país, estas cosas se toman muy en serio. Los agentes estaban muy agradecidos, e incluso bromearon con lo de pedirme el teléfono. Me marché sin más, en mi bici. Una bici que ya no tenemos porque unos chorizos nos entraron en el portal ayer y se la llevaron después de darle un martillazo al candado. Ahora sí que me gustaría haberme quedado con su número.

Log: El verano en Glasgow ha durado dos semanas. Récord.

to the Barrowlands

2010-06-09T19:58:00.002+01:00

I am so excited it is UNREAL. This might as well be the sole thing that has made me the happiest in this stormy 2010. I lie. The second thing hehe.

And for the first time, I am gonna go see Keane in company - so somebody can witness how crazy I get. Lovely.

I don't wanna wake, I don't wanna wake up.

Log: Life changing revelations while making 1,300 bags of packed lunch at the same time there's a queue for the X Factor. Yeah, my brain works like that.

peppers and apricots

2010-06-08T20:39:00.002+01:00

looking younger every day.

and tomorrow, the SECC. capitalism.

log: another song in the making.

ass chef

2010-05-29T12:03:00.002+01:00

i have a mixed feeling about working today. when i get to go to a place i've never been before, i have denial feelings, like those kids show when they don't want to go to school. deep inside of me i feel like going "i'm scared, i don't want to goooo". but such is life. just imagine having a different place to work every week. imagine how it was your first day at work, and you'll feel what i feel. fear, shyness, nervousness... all in one tiny person. and the need to go to the loo more often than desired. so yeah, that's how it is.

today, however, things have radically changed. it's not only that i'm going somewhere new, it's that i'm doing something i think i've never done before. as much as my CV says that i was making sandwiches and kebabs in Italy two summers ago, the truth is i have not prepared a sandwich for anyone than for myself in 24 months and i am rusty as hell and i don't think i'd know how it is to make a sandwich. add to it, that it's not only sandwiches i'm going to be required to do. i am going to work as an assistant chef in a care home in Govan. i should have thought it thru before accepting, and as much as i know all i'm going to find there is old people, it's still Govan. it's not like i'm going to Drumchapel or Easterhouse, but it can still be a bit intense. so hummmm.

the third reason to add is that i have to take the bus there, and i hate buses. with a passion. i am a very chilled, easy going person, but buses tend to get me veeeery worked up. i sweat a lot and i am constantly on my toes looking thru the window thinking "oh my god, oh my god, is this my stop?". see how trains are great because you know where they go. buses can always change at the last minute. and that scares the crap out of me. specially when i have to be at some place at a certain hour and i can't just "not be there in time". i think that is my only maniac, OCD thing.

so you can guess: i don't know where i'm going, i don't know how i'm gonna get there, i don't know what i'm doing. somebody else would have crawled already, but i... i am still standing with my no-moral policy and i wish this leads into something good. after all, i love grabbing burning nails. they, somehow, tie my to the floor when i need to be down-to-Earth the most. and i'm happy.

the lost cable

2010-05-28T11:34:00.003+01:00

oh, long time no see, i know!

i have been busy. scratch that. i have been very busy.

i recently started working for this catering/waiting/bar agency that sends me everywhere around Glasgow and, well, work has it, it has awarded me some sort of a normal life, which was very much needed. not that it is 100% normal tho. working 24 hours a week is better than working none, and up to a certain extent, i prefer it this way cause i am slowly getting into the habit of what working is. it feels like i've been one year on holiday, so i guess working 45 hours would disintegrate me right away. right now, i would not say no to that either tho. just yesterday, i accepted an assistant chef shift for tomorrow and i'm going to be trained in making sandwiches. that's exactly what i thought i would be doing one year ago when i was a graduant - sandwiching for a living. but i am peniless and i lack morals, so if i end up being Ferran Adrià, i would not be displeased nor surprised.

things flow superbly and i am having the best time. all my worries are reduced to when i'm going to clean and iron my work shirts and where the hell is the usb cable for my cookie, cause i don't seem to be able to find it. oh, and of course, my hairdo. and what to do next year. a postgrad, even if peniless, sounds like the best of ideas just now. part-time. not to stressful. taking it easy. yep. refereeing. oh, everything. i lost track of what i was saying but i guess that's the whole point. easy.

wrap yourself around me...
(as the needle slips into the run out groove
love - maybe you'll feel it too)

pic: b&w uni tower thru the woods.

Things I Do When Not In The Mood For Anything

2010-05-25T15:03:00.003+01:00

1. I watch Friends. Like a maniac.

2. I play guitar. It's proven that it is something I do not because I really want to (even if I love doing it) but because I'm bored or have nothing else better to do. My fingers are bleeding and I can hardly type, syntoms of two days without work.

3. I text. I am not too fond of texting, unless I have a thing for the person who textes or the text is funny. I kinda hate it. So if I text you out of the blue, means I'm bored.

4. I eat or drink. In this case, I have a raspberry Twinnings tea in my hands.

5. I think about the life I don't have. Better or worse. I think I'm a footballer who just scored a goal and celebrate it with music and then pretend to be interviewed by someone. I do that a lot when in the toilet. Random, I know. It's all in my head. Been doing it ever since I was a kid.

6. I dance to stupid music. Best choreographies ever have come out of bored evenings.

7. I pretend to play and sing. Yeah.

8. I procrastinate - meant to be translating and instead of that, I am trying to find an excuse not to do it.

9. I update my blog.

10. I read and reread posts on Facebook or Twitter.

11. I watch Buenafuente.

12. The word "random" appears in my mouth every now and again.

Yes, I am bored. I shouldn't be, but I am.

Log: I have the chorus of my new song. I can't find proper verses because... I don't know if I want to find the words, or if I have them. I need to sleep, me thinks.

toupée

2010-05-25T10:53:00.001+01:00

need a haircut.

and to find the words to write a song. truth is, i don't think i have any. i do have a guitar tho.

:)

Moving in/Moving out

2010-05-18T10:24:00.002+01:00

In & Out - pretty much.

I know I haven't posted here in a while, but RL has it and I have been busy with... work! I am not going to talk about it just the now cause I don't want to jinx it. But you guys know what it is like.

As for In & Out, I am surfing to another couch today. I am ready this time, I guess I just came clear with the fact that this is a life style that suits me. Never thinking too much about it, or reading into it, and just going with the flow somehow. I don't think I want to be a Couch Surfer all my life, but as far as I see it, it is the suitable thing to be just now. What is even more surprising is that things keep coming up from one day to the other, and I am happy that they get sorted out soon, and that I manage to pull off a card out of my sleeve at the last minute. And I am still here in Glasgow, not torn about anything anymore.

I am happy. And even more important, I am very, very chilled. Very, very zen.

Log: And I'm gonna obviate my problems with girls and stay out of trouble. I have been dreaming funny things. And I am not really happy about certain things that have happened, but such is life. You fall, you learn, you move on. This time, I just move on. And get to fuck.

impossible is nothing

2010-05-08T10:11:00.004+01:00

the team that dances together, stays together.

this time, no more excuses. the SLBA cup final again. and that's where we want to be.

because i miss you
because we believe
because we have proven ourselves right
because i want to make you proud
because this is the right moment to achieve peace
this one is for you, grandad, and i'm gonna fight with teeth and blood to get it. and i hope you have the best seat up there to watch it...

BRING ON THE CUP FINAL!

Olimpiade - Tiziano Ferro

one foot on each side

2010-05-07T09:33:00.004+01:00

but i don't know which side i'm going to throw the ball into.

24", and running.

the perils of aimlessness.

time is ticking out - the cranberries

Pepa y yo

2010-05-04T14:32:00.014+01:00

This is one of the many random posts I write, but I really wanted to put it in words. I was walking down Byres Road to the Kelvin Hall, and this subject popped in my head behind the Kelvingrove Museum. And I walked all the way home thinking about it, and what to say, so I guess I gave it a lot of thought.

I also want to say that I know Pepa is a fictional character. But it is the character itself the one that sticks to me, and not gorgeous Laura Sánchez. So apart from a thing or two, this is all going to be based on personality aspects.

When I first saw PepSi, I was immediately drawn to Pepa. Like a moth to a flame. I thought she was the one who sold the character better, the one that looked properly gay, and therefore the one I fell for at the very beginning. I have to say, very straight women, or women who look very straight are not my type at all. There are so many hotties in this world that I would never put my eyes on just because they look so straight to me that I wouldn't even think of it. It's physical, I can't help it. That's why I never considered Silvia until much later. When I realised I was a Pepa.

Lately, my world has been crumbling to pieces and, even though I was only a Pepa for certain things, it is true that I am developing some features that draw me even closer to the character. I am just going to list them, and illustrate them with some examples.

1. Pepa's biggest love story began when she was 18. She fell in love with a straight woman, and converted her. I did the exact same, even tho I did not run away for my parents for 8 years. My most important relationship to date happened when I was 18.

2. Pepa moved to Madrid to be with the woman she loved. I moved to Brighton to follow the woman I loved.

3. Pepa is drawn to people because she is social and always open. I am always surrounded by my friends, and they are my most valuable treasure. Still, I get to meet new people very often and I socialise with random strangers.

4. Pepa's girl-counter is allegedly at #40. It is likely that by the time I'm 30, my girl-counter would be around that number too. There's a map on Dr Piper's refrigerator that illustrates that.

5. Pepa's first reaction to something that's against what she wants is an angry face, a storm out and a solution to the problem following the "por mis santos cojones" rule. Me, ditto.

6. In pick up artist mood, Pepa is unstoppable. With some obvious physical handicaps, I am difficult to stop as well.

7. Badassness. All the way.

8. Vests.

9. The want-a-piece-of-me look.

10. The commitment to one's family and friends above everything else in the world.

And some randoms.

11. The thousand watt smile. I know it's a sin to even compare it, but I've been told.

12. We both own a Cookie that is probably being tracked down by the CNI.

Right, I know this might be far too random, but I was in pure rage this morning, so just be happy that I haven't splashed my latest disappointment all over the world wide web. Focusing on the positives.

Leaving so soon - Keane

bipolar

2010-05-03T22:17:00.002+01:00

Y sin dudar tú me plantas un beso,
quema a gas, huele a queroseno.
Qué más da, yo respiro tu aliento...
Dame más razones con hielo.
Bipolar.

Porque me siento bipolar, literalmente. Por más piedras que tire para arriba, al final, siempre me caen en la cabeza. La última es la de este fin de temporada poco ocioso. Yo sé que Ian no me puede ni ver. Se ve a la legua. No es mi problema que no les queden arbitros buenos en la federaciónn regional, yo no he defraudado a nadie. Pero que este favoritismo se plasme en las designaciones me parece repugnante. Y más cuando al Chico Cacahuete le han dado un cadete masculino. ¿Quién nos queda? La parejita, que como vuelvan a pitar este año el senior femenino, me quejo oficialmente, por gilipollismo integral. El alelao. El gilipollas que es secretario y por eso ya es el rey del mundo. El australiano guay, al que adoro. ¡Y poca gente más! Vale que yo estoy excluída de un partido porque juego... Pero quedan otros cinco, por lo tanto otros diez árbitros. Y en mi cuenta me salen seis o siete. Pues nada.

Que te den por el culo, chato. Por el puto culo.

Y me sigue nevando encima y yo creo que ya son ganas de joder. Está claro que no todo van a ser rosas, y creo que este es uno de los recuerdos amargos que tengo relacionados con el arbitraje, y uno de los motivos que me empujaron a dejarlo tan fácilmente. La diferencia es que ahora me da igual lo que me hagan. Lo que digan de mí. Lo que me critiquen. O lo que intenten putearme. Porque gracias a cierta hija de puta, y a las circustancias de los últimos meses, yo soy la hierba mala que nunca muere.

Y soy muy mala. Y si no, espérate y verás.

Puerta y aire,
que me asfixio...

saturday recap

2010-05-02T11:59:00.006+01:00

Yesterday was a funny day. In all aspects and in all the wide extended meanings of the word "funny". Because when I say that something surprising happens to me, it's not that surprising anymore, right?

I refereed two games, meaning that by the time I was back home (say 5pm) I was dead and gone and spent the afternoon having Cookies and Cream Häagen Dazs and watching videos. This shall not be interpreted as me being depressed, as some one would say straight away (wankers...), because, for fuck's sake, sometimes you just feel like doing nothing, specially when you're tired and the bed pulls you with a magnetic force you can't even avoid. Well, that was it.

The games were quite fun, and I appreciated refereeing in pilot mood for most of them and being able to come out with quite a good result. And I made so much unexpected money out of them that I finally managed to afford a substitute for my good old Nokia 7373. The poor boy was dying and needed a replacement. It had been cutting off at random times for over a month now, and it was just not good - I loved it, it lasted 3 years and it survided Russia, but it was not the same anymore :( . To be fair, I would have never got the phone if I had not ref'd yesterday, but given that I got more than I expected, I guess I was in a position to use that. Now I'm a proud owner of a LG KP500 aka the Cookie, the same phone as Pepa Miranda (this was not a defining factor, but it surely helped!).

In the afternoon, I had a chance to talk to my sweet nice friend the Fairy, and she told me again nice things that some times one needs to hear, even tho I did not ask for them. We had a laugh at the new stupid activities coming from the South of the Border, because, as it seems, someone still thinks I am to be taken the piss out of. Surely that is not going to happen, and my diplomatic skills will result in madness for this particular individual. But as we say in Spanish, "quien siembra vientos, recoge tempestades". And true story, no one is gonna "prendermi per il culo" anymore. The joys of not giving a shite. It is sweet.

And I spent the evening watching Barça take 4-1 on Vila-real, in the most boring game ever watched. I fell asleep texting Debs about Voldemort - what was that about? And woke up and had like 4 texts again. I think Voldemort took it too far haha.

I'm your biggest fan
I'll follow you until you love me
Papa, Papa Ratzi
[reversion of Lady Gaga's song for the Pope - LOL!]

picspam
from Nokia 7373...

to tha Cookie monster.

hailstones

2010-04-30T10:43:00.003+01:00

For those of you who follow my life thru this tiny creepy window, you must learn that I received the last disappointing rejection for two jobs I was interviewed for just yesterday. My question is: Are any of you surprised? Or, am I? I am not, really. I totally rocked the Santander interview, and yet, "unfortunately", I am not compatible with the company requirements. As of today, I am going to give up applying for jobs in banks, because, as I have come to realise, they are just materialistic pricks, and unless you're one of them, like them, you'll never get a job there. And I am not a materialistic prick, I am a stupid moron. So there you go.

At this point in time, there's 16 days left for me to fix things, to grab a burning nail and stay here. I woke up this morning with the mentality of a person that has never been rejected, even if, in the last 3 months, the word count for "unfortunately" has grown exponentially in my Outlook inbox. But what can I do? They don't want me, it's not even me. I feel as if I am holding my entire world in my two bare hands, and that that world is crumbling down so I have to make a double effort to pick up all the tiny pieces before they reach the floor. My muscles are growing thanks to that exercise, and I still think, and have the hope, that I will overcome all that and that 16 days is still a long, long time. If there's something that 2010 is showing me is that life is complete shite, but I am a good swimmer in the shite flow. Rather scatological, but yet true.

Every disappointment is a hailstone in my bag. Making my bag be heavier. But hailstones melt. They always do. If anything, now more than ever, this is the time to believe in me.

Even when the thunder and stom begins
I'll be standing strong like a tree in the wind
Nothing's gonna move this mountain, or change my direction.

Dima Bilan - Believe.

Log: And I did not go out last night cause I grew sort of lazy on my couch, but also because the thought of meeting another girl is just very, very tiring. I've always said I was lazy to pick up people and that has not changed. I can't be arsed with it, and I couldn't last night.

y el hijo puta de Mourinho.

2010-04-28T15:21:00.003+01:00

Vale, que no creo que "hijo de puta" sea un adjetivo, es más bien un insulto bastante grave, pero yo creo que el objeto de este título las ha visto de tantos colores que yo creo que él sabe que, a efectos reales, es un hijo de puta. Y no creo que le moleste.

Me refiero a Xose Mourinho. Él es un tipo especial. Esta noche en Barcelona está el ambiente que va a rebentar y sinceramente me parece un poco cansido tanta gilipollez con el tema de la remontada, pero es que yo hace mucho que no soy nada futbolera. Leyendo el Marca, he abierto un post sobre las perlas de Xose Mourinho. Y es para morirse. Después de cada una me viene de reírme y luego decir "qué hijo puta". Porque si alguien es capaz de chupar toda la atención hacia él mismo y quitar absolutamente toda la presión a sus jugadores, es él. Siempre me ha parecido muy teatrero y demasiado sincero para ser entrenador de fútbol internacional. Pero tengo que confesar que lo odio y lo admiro a partes iguales. Es un tío al que, literalmente, se la suda todo. Habla sin necesidad de cagarse en los muertos de nadie y aun así, cada vez que habla, levanta ampollas. Y sigue cosechándo éxitos allá donde va. Flipa.

No sé si a estas alturas, Mourinho es tan buen entrenador como dicen que es, pero lo que sí es cierto es que es capaz de vencer y convencer en situaciones en las que la presión mataría a cualquier otro. Él no, él es la presión. Es el tipo que no hace falta que te grite "Mariconadas las justas", porque te lo da por supuesto. Y es el tipo al que le gusta provocar. Si no, no se entiende como esta noche, después de ver cómo está el ambiente en Barcelona de calentito, y de decir que el partido de hoy es como otro cualquiera (si, los cojones, chato!), se lleva a Luis Figo para sentarlo en el banquillo del Camp Nou. Es como la traición en estado puro. Y no se esconde que la temporada que viene se perfila para el banquillo del Berna. Hay mucho madridista capullo y mucha estrellita del funambulismo (léase, Cristiano Ronaldo) que quiere que hoy gane su primer partido como merengue y eche al Barça de la Champions. A este punto, yo no puedo esperarme a verlo. Creo que va a ser el primer partido de fútbol que voy a ver este año. El segundo será la final de la Champions.

Pero volviendo a Mou, miedo me da lo que pueda soltar si esta noche gana o pasa el Inter. Este tío es capaz de soltarle dos peinetas al Camp Nou en medio del campo y liarla parda. Ya se verá. Con esta perla lo dejo:

"Si hubiese querido un trabajo fácil, me habría quedado en el Oporto con una espléndida poltrona, la Champions, Dios, y después de él, yo". Y bien a gusto que se quedó el tío.

Crossdressing

2010-04-21T10:28:00.004+01:00

I don't know why this happens, but after a while of being in a position to contrast male and female behaviour in sports, I have come to the conclussion that there's a lot of crossdressing. No need to wear a skirt to act like a woman, or to wear a moustache to be like a man. But it is true - so much for "manning up", straight men keep acting like women. And that really stresses me out; I can't bear it!

The latest incident was a couple of days ago. After a call I made, someone was not really happy with it, and tried to tell me what the call was by protesting. Fair enough, I was standing right in front of it when it happened, and in my most modest opinion, my call could not have been wrong. I didn't lose my temper, cause I knew I was right, but said instead "I was there, I could see it, and you can't". The answer to that was not more moaning, but a really feminine "I would never talk to you like that". Fair enough it was a rather authoritative tone I was using, but not at all threatening or disrespectful. I just stated the obvious. So I was again with a case of sports crossdressing.

That incident is not the first one. I have come to notice that men complain so much more than women during games, and even more if we consider that the number of fouls called in a men's game is at least twice as much as it is in a women's game (we're talking about the local leagues, not the national). Why is that? How come women "man up" much more than guys? Some might say that women do not fully understand the rules of the game, or not care about not getting every single call, or not care about winning or losing. I would say that that is only true of a 40% of them - again, only in the lower levels. Women in local play just for fun, many of them don't really care about winning or losing. It's sad, but it's true, and it is certainly only a behaviour I have come accross in the UK. When I was in Italy, the team I played for was of the lowest level, and you could see elbows flying, Ts, Ds and everything you could ask for just to win a game.

Then we have "pride". I'm not saying that women have no pride, because they do, but their pride is not stupid as the boys' pride. A guy will always complain that he was fouled after receiving a block, no matter how clean the block is. I know that, cause I do that too. It's like a defence mechanism - you don't want everyone to think you were blocked because, by definition, a block is the maximum exponent of shame in a basketball court. There's boys who never stop complaining in games, about the most technical things, forgetting the real spirit of the game. That makes me laugh now, but it was hard to get by at the beginning. Now I pull off some jokes when something like that happens - and the good thing is that people laugh along with me.

The last game I really enjoyed refereeing was like a month ago, in a school cup. I have to confess me and my CO were pissing ourselves at what was being said. There was "nice" trashtalk in between teams, but not the likes you get insults and explicit crap, no. It was more about "Show me what you got", "What an airball" or "You can't jump" and the like. It was nice because they were motivating each other and the game was so much better and interesting thanks to that. They didn't say a word to me at all, and there were no complains. They dealt with the problem among themselves. And it was just too funny to watch.

Log: I know I have screwed up my chances of getting the latest job, but fair enough, they asked me questions I have never prepared so I had to invent along. I think I managed to come out like an inventive, creative kid, and of course the whole speech about "team spirit" always wins me some points but let's face it, there's very little hope for me to get thru this stage. It's no big deal, I knew it was gonna be crap anyway. I gave a couple of CVs in the Byres Rd yesterday and they are like "more potential". Cause I don't think a bank society wants to know about my Computer Aided Translation tools skills, right?

Tonight: More Los Hombres de Paco.

Look inside, look inside your tiny mind,
look a bit harder...

Eyjafjallajoekull

2010-04-20T08:50:00.005+01:00

I had to copy and paste the name, but you know what I'm talking about. And whilst half of the blogger community is in rage for either the volcano or the government's reaction to it, I must be the only zen person and actual FAN of poor Eyja after all.

After all, it's not it's fault. Some years ago, the volcano started spewing as well, but the weather conditions were favorable and helped the elimination of the ash quickly. What's the problem now? The high pressures in the continent - and what does high pressure mean? Good weather! So screw it, the ash is packed up there because it's sunny! HAHA! I thought the good weather and high temps in Glasgow were a blessing, but now I think they're a proper God sent!

I know I maybe shouldn't, but I am laughing out loud at this whole situation. Humans tend to forget that we're not invincible, and that plans are always subject to changes, but this reminds us all that weather cannot be dismissed. Fair enough, this also makes me laugh because I don't have to travel, actually, because I don't want to and this is the perfect excuse to remain here. And of course, because being a cheeky monkey as I am, if UK airspace is closed, some people cannot come back to the country - and that LOLs me. I don't care if karma comes back and bites me in the arse (I already had all the bad luck in the world, I don't think I could have any more!) or if people hate me for this, but I am an official fan of the Eyjafjallajoekull.

I have hade my fair share of trips full of accidents and cancellations, fog and nightmares and sleeping in airports. It's a normal thing, and you know you can't do anything to change the weather, so you just have to face it as it is. There's nothing to do, so why stress out about it? Again, Eyjafjallajoekull is not affecting any of my trips, cause I have none, but fog and storms and snow have affected me in the past, and I was chilled as a perfect beer. The volcano has not brough the chaos to the people, is the people who have just gone nuts. Take a chill pill, and look at it positively: you're not dead, be thankful for that. If you fly and then crash - would you be happier?

And as a final reminder to the pricks who can't go on snob holidays to the Caribbean cause their flight is disrupted, imagine having this at your doorstep:Has anyone even stopped to think about the Icelanders? No, not really. Their economy fucked off big time at the very beginning of the credit crunch and now they have lava running down the street and burning their houses. Now think again before complaining that you "can't fly".

Log: And tomorrow, I will post about something that enrages me even more than prickness: straight men who act like women.

the Ref

2010-04-17T16:19:00.003+01:00

I became a referee in June 2007. That's when I took the course (maybe it was May, I can't really remember) and refereed my first games in the local league. From those early times I remember people telling me that despite the little experience, I was pretty confident with my calls and even my referee instructor was happy with me. I always had the feeling that I was total crap, but that I just happened to be less crap than many other refs and that made the difference. I don't think I'm total crap anymore, altho I still think that difference is important.

What people don't know, even if I talk about it all the time, is that my best friend in Spain (Lee) and my ex and friends in Italy (Chiara, Giulio, Giulia) are all referees, and of the greatest quality, and I consider myself a product of years of watching them. Specially with Lee. Back in the day, when all I did was coaching and table officiating, she was already up and about in the world, being a recognised referee. I used to go watch her ref and then we would go out for a beer or two. Of course I couldn't care who won or lost, so I normally focused on studying her moves and of course being proud of what she was on court. Because when growing up, she was shy and had very little confidence, but on court, she was totally in charge. And I think the fact that I was more confident than anybody else in that referee course is because, after seeing what had to be done for so long, I sort of had the experience a normal newbie ref wouldn't.

I started calling myself Baby Ref. Chiara helped with that. She gave me tips even when I didn't want to listen, and whenever I went to see her ref, I'd do the same as I did with Lee - study every single one of her moves, and try to imitate them when I refereed. The Baby Ref grew up after a game in Notre Dame in summer 2008. My instructor told me that I had managed to get to the required level in no time. I don't remember his exact words, but I knew, after that, and after my first technical fouls, that I was no longer a Baby Ref.

All this time, however, I have always looked at referees from the distance. I personally think that some people like to be categorised for just one thing in their lives, and even tho I don't have anything against labels, I consider myself to be holding so many of them that it'd be impossible to just pick one that stands out. And with referees, the same thing applies: there are so many of them who are just "referees". I've always told myself I was much more than just that. I was a ref, but also a player, and a coach, and a fan. And of course many other things not related to basketball. Many. So being known as "the ref" sort of scared me. That's why I don't travel to games dressed in referee's clothes (well, that, and some coherence, to be fair). And when I was not wearing the clothes, I was not a referee. I still think like that - the suit doesn't make me a person, but when I change off them, there's a residual part of me who is still a referee. But I kept my distance, and still keep it, and I think that distance has kept me safe and sound and hasn't burnt me out as a referee or as a person during all this time.

There's a place I want to reach with this speech, I swear. I have never had any further intentions with refereeing, other than making some money and having fun. It's a hobby, yeah, but it is also a job. As much as I can look at it with some perspective, I am a professional and have always been, even if I never considered myself one of the pack. Reaching Level Three, for example, has never been an aim. I was certainly confortable in my Level One, even now in my Level Two position. But something has sort of changed, and the Home Nations are to blame. I saw them refs from the distance, from the table official position, and I just saw... I want to be one of them. One of them BBL refs. I will never make it to FIBA, cause I'm too old to even think about it, but BBL is not that far away, and even if it requires hard work and involvement, I just know I want to do it. It is something I know I can be good at, and that I have never given in to complacement when I'm on court, when I am wearing the suit. Off the court is another story, but yet again, off the court I become the many other things/labels I am.

Being "the Ref" does not scare me anymore. I know myself that I am much more than that and I will never turn into one of those guys who are "just referees". I am still gonna go to games dressed as a normal (smart) person. But I am gonna fight to improve and to give my best when I am wearing the suit. I need to give myself the chance to be something I have discovered I want to be, even if I never thought I'd get to that point. Refereeing has literally kept me alive in these last three months, mentally safe and sound, giving me something to do and be good at, and providing money to stay over. I think this proves there's nothing wrong with being "the Ref" - it's actually a label I hold proudly, very proudly.

And I want to thank Lee for being the amazing friend and ref and being the seed of all this, Chiara for her loving Master teaching, Giulio for his counseling and words, and Ian for his orientation and subtle insults. Without them, I would have never become the Ref. Thanks very much.

The Home Nations - Three Day Pass Recap

2010-04-15T22:22:00.003+01:00

For those not familiar with the concept, the Home Nations is a universities sport event in which the four British nations (England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland) put teams together with players who go to universities in those nations (meaning that they’re not nationals from that country specifically – ie in 2007, I played for Scotland, or for the Scottish Universities team, as it is known, not because I’m Scottish, but because I attended The University of Glasgow) and of a long list of team sports: footie, basketball, rugby, netball and hockey.

Last week, at a very normal time in the morning (which is unusual for him), Graham phoned me telling me if I could “do some games” for the Home Nations competition. Since I am not an international referee I assumed he meant table officiating. Which makes very little sense too, because I am not even qualified as a table official – I know my stuff, but you’d guess they’d take someone else. Of course not, since I am the unemployed joker in the BS equation. Parfait. I had 3 games assigned per day, so I managed to sneak in the halls at the Pollocks in Edinburgh and get a proper VIP pass. It’s true that it was easier for me and cheaper for BS to give me a room there than to make me travel back and forth from Glasgow these three days.

So I took it as an adventure. First, because I didn’t know where I was getting into. Second, and this is the funny anecdote of the trip, because I went to reception to get my key and was told that “I was sharing with someone else who should have already been in the room”. I got there and effectively, there must have been someone else because there was a lot of stuff in the room. But far too much stuff for just one person. So after having a shower and going for the free buffet, I came back in the room to see that there was somebody else, and when I asked her, she said it was the “physios room” and that they were two in there already. Nice. So I went to reception, and reception lady was all “oh sorry”, and it took her like half an hour to sort out another room for me. Not to mention that she had major problems to pronounce or spell my name – oh god. That’s the sort of stuff that always happens to me.

The third anecdote has to do with the latest volcanic eruptions in Britain. I woke up today and I didn’t know what people were talking about but so it seems that the whole of the country is covered in a big mass of black ash powder and most airports are closed (at least Glasgow, Edinburgh and Aberdeen are). The referees and most of the teams can’t get back in planes, so the whole event is sort of collapsing on its last day because people don’t know how are they gonna get home. The funny thing was when one of the referees, a polish girl living in Brighton (seriously?) said that she’d phone a friend and make him/her drive all the way up to come pick her up. And then added “It’s only a ten hour trip”. LOL. Referees have decided to rent a car and drive down, the whole Northern Ireland team (all sports included) are taking all the available spots in the ferries from Stranraer and Wales seems to be the only nation (besides Scotland, of course) to have no trouble, because they all have coaches to go back to Swansea. England, since they’re all posh bastards and flew all from London, has much more trouble. True story is that Leeds Met has a lot of players in this competition, and the stupid morons drove down to London and then flew here, when it’s only a 4 hour trip to go from Leeds to Edinburgh.

This gives me a bit of perspective, since I was rather pissed off at the fact that Heriot Watt University (where the Home Nations is hosted) is really in the middle of nowhere, with its closest station being Curriehill, which has a one train ever hour and a half service, and it takes 75 minutes to get to Glasgow. At least I can go home tonight and sleep in my fresh from the oven room. This should give me a mental framework to work out with things better. With my things. I just can already see myself up to my elbows with packing, and I think I have too much crap to sort out to actually wanting to do that. But hey, it’s a positive thing. At least I know what I want.

Song: Stop for a minute – Keane feat K’Naan
I like: Free food and free accomodation. Sometimes one forgets how nice it is to have a room of their own.

Porque todo me da iguaaaaal...

2010-04-12T11:15:00.003+01:00

THIS SONG WAS SPECIALLY WRITTEN FOR ME! I'M SURE!

Nunca he sido un lobo feroz
yo siempre fui ese patito feo
que se escondía bajo un caparazón,
guardaba su corazón
y que creía en los cuentos.
Y ahora que me he hecho mayor
no soy un cisne, soy aun más feo.
Ya no me queda nada de corazón
ahora soy depredador
de cada presa que veo.

Porque el mundo así me ha hecho, vacío por dentro,
porque ladro, porque muerdo
porque soy muy perro.
Soy un delicuente con los sentimientos porque todo me da igual.
Me da igual, me da igual.

No soñaba con ser un dios,
sólo ser uno más en este juego.
No quedan fichas ni tampoco ilusión,
sólo tengo una misión, la de salvar mi pellejo.
Nunca he sido un lobo feroz
yo siempre fui ese patito feo
que se escondía bajo un caparazón,
guardaba su corazón
y que creía en los cuentos.

Porque el mundo así me ha hecho, vacío por dentro,
porque ladro, porque muerdo
porque soy muy perro.
Soy un delincuente con los sentimientos porque todo me da igual.
Porque me lavo las manos y me desentiendo,
sólo barro mi parcela, me da igual lo vuestro.
Soy un delincuente con los sentimientos porque todo me da igual.
Y cada uno por su lado
antes de pedirnos la mano
si nos da igual nos la pisamos.
Y para qué les trabajamos
si sabemos que todo es falso...
Soy un delincuente con los sentimientos porque todo me da igual.

I've never been a Big Bad Wolf
I've always been that Ugly Duckling
hiding underneath his shell
keeping his hearth away
and believing in fairy tales.
Now I've grown up
not to be a swan, but to be even uglier.
I don't have any bit of my heart left,
now I'm a predator
of every prey I see.
Because the world has made me empty inside,
so I bark, so I bite,
cause I'm a lazy dog.
I am a delinquent with feelings cause I don't care anymore,
I don't care, I don't care.

I didn't dream about being a God,
just to be one more in this board game.
There are no more tokens or illusions left,
my only mission is saving my own skin.
I've never been a Big Bad Wolf
I've always been that Ugly Duckling
hiding underneath his shell
keeping his hearth away
and believing in fairy tales.

Because the world has made me empty inside,
so I bark, so I bite,
cause I'm a lazy dog.
I am a delinquent with feelings cause I don't care anymore,
I don't care, I don't care.
Because I wash my hands clean
and don't want to have anything to do with anyone,
I only sweep my parcel, I don't care about yours,
I am a delinquent with feelings cause I don't care anymore.
And everyone follows his own path
we'd step on each other's hands
rather than helping each other.
Why do we work for them
if we know it's all a lie?
I am a delinquent with feelings cause I don't care anymore

Like a summercat

2010-04-11T18:14:00.003+01:00

I wore a T-shirt and my worn out hat.
Abandoned as a summer cat.
And as I stood there as a broken hearted I realized you got the car keys still.
So I broke into my own old car.
I fell asleep on the passenger seat.
I dreamed of summer sex with you and you whispered in my ear:

Tonight tonight tonight tonight
I wanna be with you tonight tonight tonight tonight

hell

2010-04-07T18:33:00.003+01:00

from xkcd.

log: i'm fucking starving.

log2: i have started writting my memoirs. this is a TRUE story.

log3: blame it on the Bunny.

there's no air

2010-04-07T14:37:00.001+01:00

If I should die before I wake
It's 'cause you took my breath away
Losing you is like living in a world with no air
Oh

I'm here alone, didn't wanna leave
My heart won't move, it's incomplete
Wish there was a way that I can make you understand

But how do you expect me
to live alone with just me
'Cause my world revolves around you
It's so hard for me to breathe

[Chorus]
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air
Can't live, can't breathe with no air
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
It's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how you gonna be without me
If you ain't here, I just can't breathe
It's no air, no air

No air, air - No
No air, air - No
No air, air - No
No air, air

I walked, I ran, I jumped, I flew
Right off the ground to float to you
There's no gravity to hold me down for real

But somehow I'm still alive inside
You took my breath, but I survived
I don't know how, but I don't even care

So how do you expect me
to live alone with just me
'Cause my world revolves around you
It's so hard for me to breathe

[Chorus]
Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air - (Uh - oh)
Can't live, can't breathe with no air - (No - No)
http://www.elyricsworld.com/no_air_lyrics_glee_cast.html
It's how I feel whenever you ain't there
It's no air, no air
Got me out here in the water so deep - (So Deep)
Tell me how you gonna be without me - (Without Me)
If you ain't here, I just can't breathe ( Breathe - No - No- aha)
It's no air, no air (No - No)

No air, air
No air, air
No air, air
No air, air
No more
It's no air, no air

[Chorus x2]

No air, air
No air, air
No air, air
No air, air

You got me out here in the water so deep
Tell me how you gonna be without me
If you ain't here, I just can't breathe
It's no air, no air

No Air (No)
No Air (No - No)
No Air
No Air
No Air

cosas de la vida

2010-04-07T11:09:00.001+01:00

si Maradona es Dios, Messi es Chuck Norris.

brrr

2010-04-06T19:20:00.001+01:00

this only happens because i am...
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID
STUPID

...

yeah, i am not in the mood right now. so don't push it. brrrrr.

boredom

2010-04-05T20:35:00.002+01:00

my full-time job shoud be (and actually is) "actively seeking for a job". i spent the most boring day in history just doing that. and hell knows if that'll be worth it at all. it is certainly tiring. i know my CV by heart already and i could recite it as required.

i'm very bored. and i just found out this.

In Heaven…

the mechanics are German
the chefs are French
the police are British
the lovers are Italian
and everything is organized by the Swiss.

In Hell…

the mechanics are French
the police are German
the chefs are British
the lovers are Swiss
and everything is organized by the Italians.

LOL

pic: shoes on the wire

Easter monday preview

2010-04-05T10:12:00.003+01:00

it's monday and i have no idea if it's a bank holiday in this country or not. give me a second...

no, aparently not. it's signaled as "religious date" but not "bank holiday". fine. so if today is not a bank holiday, i should be able to do everything in the right fashion, huh? i am still waiting for the postman to send me some stuff (cheques, mainly) and some other randoms, and i am really not sure of what i'm gonna do today. i know i'm crashing at Adi's, but i don't know when am i gonna have to leave the house or anything. or if i'm gonna be able to have dinner here. it's all a mystery. but i'm good.

i had a bit of a cheeky nightmare, which is stupid in the conditions i am now. i mean, i imagine things that i know that are happening but that i shouldn't give a fuck about. i need new goals and new prospectives. given that i have flushed my morals down the toilet, i need to recover one or two. or i need a #19. the options are varied. and they only point to one direction: mental sanity. or something of the like.

on another order of things, i woke up late because i was very tired. i don't know why, but i had been genuinely exhausted for the last three days, and there's no reasonable explanation to that. so today i might take it easy but do stuff, and go to the library and keep on sending out CVs. i also realised that the deadlines for the postgraduate coursed starting Sept 2010 is not February but May, so i've been giving it a thought, and maybe, if the job hunt goes to hell or if i get a crap job, i might consider going back to uni. after all, it's just a way of winning time off the world crisis and to improve my chances of getting a job in something else. the thing is, there doesn't seem to be anything special to do a masters in, other than Russian language or Media Management. i do like the idea and being back to uni is something that actually motivates me. so i guess that in between all the crap job hunt, i'll be checking my chances of getting in. we shall see.

and now i'm off cause breakfast is calling.

Sad? Who?

2010-04-03T20:07:00.004+01:00

Do I look depressed? Do I?

Cause I'm really not. I'm writing in normal capitals today in case anyone thinks that the fact that I normally write in low case implies a low key mood. Things are weird sometimes. And people, to be honest, are weirder.

It started yesterday. Someone told me I look sad. That person doesn't even see me on a day to day basis, but my Facebook chat replies told her I looked sad. You kidding me? You don't even know me, but hey, I'm sure I am sad. To you.

Then a former classmate. And when I say former, I mean I haven't seen him in like 8 years, when we left secondary school. Actually, when he left school. We used to be friends and that's why I accepted him, plus a lot of my old school friends find amusing and entertaining that someone "who has seen the world" talks to them, so why not. He hasn't changed a bit. He did say I have changed a lot (for the obvious reasons?) and when he asked me about what I do, I told him I have a degree and I have travelled around but that I am currently unemployed. He said "Oh, that must be so sad to study for so long and finish off that way". Excuse me? I (and you) are 24, do you think I have to think my life is over just cause the world is going "this way" and I don't have a job I adore and I get a lot of money from? That was weird. When he left the conversation, I had the feeling he was gonna throw himself off a bridge or something. Dude, chill.

Then in the afternoon, I received a creepy message from my ex's aunt. Completely inappropriate, even if it was written with her best intentions. She wished me an "inner rebirth". As if I was dead inside. Excuse me again? I am sure the aim was to wish me a happy Easter, but maybe the choice of words could have been a bit different? I don't know, it was very random. It's creepy enough to have the family of a ghost to send me messages regularly. I appreciate that they care, but hey, there's no need - my mom ain't doing it. Silence, some times, conveys composure.

Log: On a side note, I had sex today. So, really, if I was sad, getting laid really helped to fade away the feeling.

Log2: And I walked about the city centre with some CVs, but there are some shops that I wouldn't want to get a job in, over my dead cold body.

april

2010-04-02T13:48:00.003+01:00

...starts now.

you know what that means.

let's get this party started! already!

pic: Glasgow poetry. the Ukranian bunny snowed under in Bellgrove. love it. and love him :)

the last train to Paris

2010-03-31T11:51:00.002+01:00

still one (or two) games to go, but FC Regal Barcelona seem to be on the driving seat to the train station, to get the last train to Paris, to the Final Four. i personally think both teams can do it, but i know for a fact that Madrid would only get to the early stages and this year, Barcelona has everything it takes to rise the Euroleague title.

more to come. i just posted this cause i absolutely adored this picture. the three shootingteers.

pic: Juan Carlos 'la Bomba' Navarro, Ricky Rubio and Gianluca Basile. probably the idols of the Palau Blaugrana.

con la miel en los labios

2010-03-30T12:25:00.002+01:00

ayer fue un día de esos. más o menos como el domingo. me levanté esperanzada y cagada de miedo y fui a la segunda entrevista de trabajo mucho más zen de lo que creía. tenía por ahí a las amígdalas dandome un poco por el culo, pero yo estoy ya acostumbrada a lidiar con ellas, así que no estuvo tan mal. y tuve la impresión de clavarla. la verdad que sí. respondí sin miedo, de forma coherente, y resaltando mis puntos fuertes sin parecer una creída.

luego me fui a arbitrar y tenía un mensaje en el contestador al salir del hombre de HR que me había entrevistado, diciendo que lo había hecho todo maravilloso... pero que había "un candidato más fuerte". para más inri, me dijo que había quedado en la última selección de 4. habían recibido 550 solicitudes, y yo llegué entre las 4 últimas. ahora mismo me siento un poco como el que gana la medalla de plata de los Juegos Olímpicos. o peor, con el que se lleva el diplóma olímpico quedando cuarto. la gente me dice que no me desanime, que quedar cuarta de 550 es todo un logro. sí, pero no me paga las facturas, y de momento, estoy como estaba antes. en poco más de un mes se me acaba el chollo y me veo ya haciendo las maletas de nuevo. y no quiero, pero la esperanza hoy está bajo mínimos.

y el domingo lo que pasó es que yo no me puedo enrollar con adolescentes, porque tienen la cabeza más atolondrada que yo. no me puedo creer que una niña, después de pasárseme por la piedra me diga que vuelve con su ex. es que no tiene sentido, y me daja un poco mal, ni que tuviera ella el control. pero bueno. mejor así, que no creo que a mis jefes les hubiera hecho mucha gracia saber que me he liado con una jugadora. qué penurias.

y ahora de vuelta al s1jobs. que yo pensaba que con las tres entrevistas de la semana pasada íbamos a alguna parte. pues no. y porque hoy tengo anginas, que si no estaría ya empapelando los bares con mi CV. me voy a tener que esperar a mañana o pasado, porque la fiebre no es buena consejera.

oremos.

log: i love Pets. so good!

we love you Glasgow...

2010-03-28T16:14:00.002+01:00

it's been quite a long time that i've been looking for the lyrics of this song. haha. and i've finally found them. [tune from Can't take my eyes off of you]

We love you Glasgow, and if it's quite alright we love you Glasgow, cause all the rest are shite, just come to Glasgow, baby, come to Glasgow!

Don't go to Dublin, unless you're on the piss,
don't go to St Andrew's, because they all 'talk like this',
just go to Glasgow, baby, go to Glasgow.

Don't go to Strathclyde because they're full of shite,
don't go to Caley because they can't read or write,
just got to Glasgow, baby, go to Glasgow.

Don't go to Loughborough, cos they're shite at sport,
don't go to Cambrige cos they'll steal you're port.
Just go to Glasgow, baby, go to Glasgow.

Don't go to Cardiff cos it's far too far,
don't go to Liverpool cos they'll steal your car.
Just go to Glasgow baby, go to Glasgow.

Don't go to Bristol cos they're on tv,
don't go to Edinburgh, cos you'll get HIV.
Just go to Glasgow, baby, go to Glasgow.

Don't go to Dundee, cos it's a fucking heap,
don't go to Aberdeen, cos they'll shag your sheep,
just go to Glasgow, baby, go to Glasgow.

birthday recap

2010-03-27T22:12:00.002Z

e balliamo a piedi nudi
con la musica alla radio
più forte mentre gli anni passano

in questa casa che profuma in ogni angolo
faremmo il nostro simbolo

i just want to say thanks. thanks for the birthday wishes. it's been a pretty awesome week, weekend, and birthday day in general. it's gone by in just a flash. i remember how last year it felt really important to focus attention to my exact birthday day, and make the most of it, and i did, i really have the feeling that that was the best i could do.

this time, i've preferred to split the focus. i had the parties last weekend, and i enjoyed them. and i partied also this weekend, and tomorrow is still something to look forward to, even if i'm mostly gonna be home, getting my sleep back, doing some laundries, and cleaning and translating. sounds like a plan. i guess i will still be able to do something, maybe a coffee or a walk in the park, or some shots in some hoop.

and this time as well, and i want to remember this, it's the first birthday i don't end up crying. yes, i did cry bitterly last sunday in my party, but not today. and that is a landmark, after, well, bad experiences in the past. it's all gonna be all right. yes, it is. i am actually quite happy today. a couple of things more to sort out and, fingers crossed, everything will be definitely all right. ta-dah!

song: Con la musica alla radio - Laura Pausini

twentyfour

2010-03-27T12:34:00.001Z

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME...

24. sweet lord!

:D

cross the border

2010-03-26T02:51:00.002Z

...into the big bad world. and it takes you about an hour just to cross the road, just to stumble upon another poor old soul from the dreary old lanes to the high street madness...

yes, very Paolo. but i feel zentastic after hoho being completely abused by my bosses. i think, after all, i like being abused. i did get a nice huge top in exchange. fair enough.

Edinburgh was nice, maybe too misty.

four games in nine hours. i am hardcore. rahhhr!

song: These streets - Paolo Nutini
mood: in basketball devastation.

quote:
Noe: he drinks vodka because he is Ukranian!
Julie: what is Ukranian?
tsk tsk tsk!

vodka/lemonade

2010-03-24T13:39:00.002Z

and when life gives you lemons...

...you make lemonade. you just need to pour in some vodka!

pic: Penn State t-shirt. i wonder if Marian Aguilera will ever see it and say "look, she's got the same one as me". me pregunto si Marian Aguilera jamás verá esta foto y dirá "mira, si lleva la misma camiseta que yo". si lo hace, hey Marian, sí, sí, molamos que te cagas :P

i wonder why i am foreseeing #18 this weekend after swearing to the wind a year of celibacy? lol.

oh, and i love my boss and my consort boss. they're like the best since slice bread.

ya magú!

2010-03-23T08:26:00.003Z

i have to keep repeating it to myself: you'll be fine, you're not alone, don't be afraid. it's the chance i have been looking for in the last months, and now it's a bit "now or never". i need it to go right, i need to feel good about it.

it's the first step to the rest of my life. or maybe not. i don't like transcendental, but this time, i know how important this is. so i'm fighting against the weather and my tonsillitis to get it.

YES, I CAN!

y lo estaré siempre

2010-03-22T13:30:00.005Z

Pepa: Por muy negro que veas el cielo, las estrellas siempre están encima.

Silvia: Sólo hay que saber dónde mirarlas. Se lo enseñé yo. Pepa creía que en la ciudad no se podían ver las estrellas y me lié a pedradas con las farolas para quedarnos a oscuras. Nos tumbamos en el capó del coche a mirar el cielo. Ese día le pedí que se quedara conmigo en San Antonio. Estaba preciosa. Quería abrazarla, besarla, pero no me atreví. Me tocó con el dedo meñique y yo escondí la mano.

Jamás he estado tan enamorada de alguien en mi vida y lo estaré siempre.

Pepa: No matter how dark you see the sky, the stars will always be above it.

Silvia: You only need to know where to look. I showed her that. Pepa thought you couldn't see the stars in the city, so I broke all the streetlamps by hitting them with rocks so we could be in the dark. We laid down on the car's good to look at the sky. That day I asked her to stay with me in San Antonio. She was gorgeous. I wanted to hug her, kiss her, but I didn't dare. She touched me with her wee finger and I hid my hand.

I've never been so in love with anyone in my entire life. And I will always be.

best love scene in the history of Spanish TV. and you don't need a kiss, a touch or to show anyone's hairy ass. this is pure undying love. and it just made my day. again.

long live PepSi!

and a framed memory

2010-03-22T12:13:00.003Z

i was given a framed memory last night. and i am so happy and it was so sentimental that no wonder i ended up crying my eyes out later in the night. they were not really tears of joy, but i appreciate Debs being there for me. and everyone for participating in my 24th birthday Jubilee. you guys rock my world!

text message from Jess:
Noemi Llamas Gomez is your surname, i'm sorry you are spanish, see you tomorrow! xx

somehow, after all, Russia was a great place to be. to be friends.

:)

escribo porque...

2010-03-19T00:48:00.000Z

[escribí este post el 15/02, pero lo dejé enfriar. ahora, a toro pasado, me parece que tiene más sentido]

este post no es una crítica, ni constructiva ni destructiva. no es una manera de ratificarme, ni de dejar claras mis convicciones. ni de justificarme. escribo este post porque ayer Pelocha me picó. me picó diciendo cosas en las que yo no creo, pero que supongo que tienen su punto de razón, siempre desde su punto de vista. y ahora este comentario, no para devolverle la pelota (sabes que para eso te envenenaría con el pollo, jeje), si no para que, si realmente hay alguien "ahí fuera" en la comunidad blogger que se sienta como ella, que sepa que todo lo que digo tiene una explicación.

este blog nació el día de Navidad de 2008, como consecuencia de una serie de catastróficas desdichas. mi antiguo blog se había convertido en un nido de víboras y de dardos envenenados con la que entonces era mi ex compañera sentimental, y no podía más. abrí este, para continuar la labor del aquel otro. y para continuar la labor de mi antiguo fotolog, que aun está abierto, por si alguien quiere curiosear. siempre he escrito igual.

mi motivo para escribir siempre ha sido estético. porque me gusta. me gusta como suenan las palabras aunque muchas veces las odie por su pequeñez. yo era de las de literatura en la Selectividad, y de las de escribir poesía a los 15 años. de llorar versos y no lágrimas, y de soñar con papel y lápiz. por eso, cuando empecé a escribir mi blog, pensé que sería una cosa parecida. mi fotolog está abierto desde agosto de 2006. y mi antiguo blog en LiveSpaces desde 2005. y siempre lo he hecho igual.

no escribo las cosas de manera lineal. no puedo, no me sale. cuando estoy puteada por algo, cuando algo me duele, o cuando estoy feliz, siempre escribo con la estética de mi parte, sin saber muy bien porqué, dejando fluir lo que haya dentro de mí. y soy un ser muy contradictorio, así que la ambiguedad es un deber en un blog mío. que no se sepa qué quiero decir. los interesados probablemente lo sepan, pero a veces ni siquiera ellos. ¿y por qué no? porque yo no escribo para nadie, más que para mí misma. no empecé un blog con la esperanza de tener mil visitas un día, ni tengo en mente defraudar a nadie cuando abro la boca. por eso escribo en inglés, por ejemplo, en la mayoría de posts. puede sonar egoísta, pero a quien no le guste, pues que no lea. yo escribo porque en determinados momentos de mi vida necesito leer mi estado de ánimo en un cierto momento, para darme cuenta de muchas cosas. no lo hago para saber lo que hice ese día. me importa un pito lo que hice. lo único que me importa es cómo me sentía. y basta.

en esta misma línea, mi blog no forma parte de ninguna comunidad, ni lo pretendo. es la cosa más personal del mundo. rara vez comento la actualidad, aunque me gusta, y nunca pido opinión, a menos que un post vaya dedicado a una persona en concreto. yo soy yo misma, y sola. seguramente a nadie le interese lo que escribo, pero a mí me da igual, porque no me debo a ningún público. mi blog y yo caminamos solos. y ya me está bien así. no soy una centralita de información. mis posts no pretenden que uno sepa qué hacer cuando se va de un país, o enseñar al mundo las bellezas de Escocia, ni es un manual de actuación cuando uno está deprimido, ni un episodio de Bricomanía. no pretendo que la gente aprenda italiano, a freír un huevo o a no mudarse a una casa con su novia y otra lesbiana para evitar que te pongan los cuernos.

soy (y ahora va a sonar como que me tiro el rollo) una artista. y la estética es eso - todo puro teatro. y como decía algún escritor de esos de los que nunca te acuerdas del nombre, "el resto es literatura". por eso todo es tan elucubrado y a veces no se entiende una mierda. pero está escrito así. para que no se entienda una mierda. y si ese no es el objetivo de tener un blog, a mí me da bastante igual. yo, siempre lo he dicho, soy rara hasta para pederme, y esto no es una excepción.

mood swings and ball cups

2010-03-17T18:15:00.003Z

it's wonderful and funny how mood can swing from one corner of the Earth to the other in just 12 hours. or in less than that. i am a mood swinger, i must admit. i rarely let myself feel very very down, but when i am deep in total crap, just a tiny little positive thing will rise me back to heaven while it lasts. i think that this ability of picking myself up regardless of the circumstances is a really positive feature. and i'm proud of it.

last night i was feeling crap. i actually cried. several times. i didn't want to show my feelings in front of the entire Storm team, but i just couldn't hold myself at some point. i was so ready for the game last night. i had been looking forward to it and i thought i had prepared it well, both physically and mentally. but no turns out i wasn't ready. or maybe the team wasn't ready, i don't know. but i personally played my worst. my worse in years. as if i didn't know how it's like to play in a team anymore. i don't know, there are no excuses. someone suggested that the pressure and inestability that surrounds me since i run away from Brighton might be the cause, but i don't want to believe that cause that sounds even cheaper. i didn't do well, full stop. i have the whole summer to work on it.

today, however, i was not expecting to play. i was only supposed to referee, but the girls were short of players. they were only 3, so Kirsty had to play as well. and they agreed with the other teams to go for one ref only and make me play. and it was an epic win. not in the sense that we won anything. we beat Caley, fair enough, but we also beat Strathclyde by one point, by one fault, actually. but that's how you play with tournament rules, when you get screwed over so many times you learn how to play with the time. and it felt really good. again, we didn't win anything, it was just the Glasgow Cup. but i guess that having to challenge oneself to win a game and having fun with your friends at the same time makes it better. it really helped me to wash away the bitter taste of last night's loss, and makes me look at the following clash, the SLBA Cup semifinal against Glasgow City with a better perspective.

i know it's cheap. but now i am happy.
at the very end of the day i am a person who's happy with any tiny detail that life has to offer. i am that simple. but i prefer being that simple. it makes things so much better and brighter.

and guess what? it's St Patrick's and i'm not even bothered about not going out. i am going for nice dindins, and then i'm gonna be translating all night. cause you know, that's who i am. and i'm smiling.

song: I gotta feeling - The Black Eyed Peas
quote: "it really depends on what you consider for things to be 'sorted out'" - dumbass fail.

Beckham, Alonso, Ronaldo y la madre que los parió

2010-03-15T09:54:00.006Z

como diría mi madre, "tanta mariconada, pa' ná". hoy me siento en forma para comentar la actualidad, que hace mucho que no lo hago. y además porque la actualidad deportiva viene calentísima, después de una semana de alta tensión.

1. fin al cuento de hadas. ayer por la tarde, en la que puede ser la menos afortunada
de las lesiones del mundo, David Beckham dijo adiós al mundial de Sudáfrica. el bueno de David, que había removido contra viento y marea sus posibilidades de ir al mundial gracias a machacarse en dos ligas, la americana y la italiana, durante dos años, ayer se fracturó el talón de Aquiles. al final, todo el lío institucional, todo el debate sobre si se debía quedar en Italia o volver a Los Angeles, se queda en agua de borrajas. este mediodía viaja a Helsinki para ser operado por el mejor de los mejores, que ya ha dicho que 3 meses mínimo para el tendón, luego otro mes para ponerse en forma. sí, Beckham estará a punto, pero para agosto. sinceramente no me alegro, porque el pobre se estaba dejando los cuernos por estar en todos los sitios a la vez, algo difícil con 34 años. pero así es la vida, todos nos hemos perdido una cita importante por lesión, y yo creo que le duele lo mismo a Beckham, con todos sus millones, no estar en el mundial que a mí no estar en la final de la SLBA. fijo!

2. vini, vidi, vinci. Alonso, ya estamos otra vez. vuelve a ser el mejor del mundo. por la gracia y el valor de todos los españoles. estaba claro que bueno era, pero cuando se le junta un coche que corre y al que no tiene que empujar... éxito asegurado. en Italia se están frotando las manos porque ayer Ferrari hizo doblete (gran mérito el de Massa acabar segundo desde el accidente del año pasado) y ya están viendo como los tiempos mejores se acercan. la verdad es que el año pasado, a partir de la segunda carrera, estaba claro la habían cagado y a lo grande en la estrategia de temporada, y mantener al bueno de Raikkonen fue algo clamoroso. pero míralos, ahí están. y ahora España es más roja que nunca... roja Ferrari, roja Santander-Emilio-Botín "ai espic inglis uiz gomaespuminglish".

3. donde dije doscientos, digo cuatrocientos. esto lo dije yo a principio de temporada. que como madridista, esperaba que el Madrid fracasara este año. porque DA PENA. da pena la soberbia, da pena los aires que se dan y da pena contratar a un entrenador para tenerlo de pelele. y da pena gastarse lo que se han gastao para nada. al Madrid se lo comió el Lyon. no hubo chorreo esta vez, porque es el Lyon y no el Chelsea, el Manchester o el Barcelona. pero sonó a chorreo. especialmente después de que Sergio Ramos, el gitano palote por excelencia, soltara que iban a ganar 3-0 en MARCA. ¿por qué no aprendiste la lección del chorreo de Boluda? pues no... sexto año consecutivo que el Madrid sale por la puerta de atrás, y este año es sonado, por todo el dineral. sinceramente, las cosas no se hacen así. a ver si aprenden de una vez.

y eso es todo amigos. me vuelvo con mis penurias laborales.

no se pierdan esta semana Los Hombres de Paco. Silvia vuelve... como fantasma, por un día.