Damn You, Technology, Damn You.

Current Mood Warning: Psh.

Mm. Moving blogs hasn't gone as smoothly as I hoped. Lost comments and entries and some other gadgets. Will try to fix it again. Not that it was vital stuff for mankind to go on, but it should be here.

By the way, it's 15th January today and we are boiling in here. 20ºC minimun. How can I expect technology to go according to plan when not even Mother Nature is?

Off to do something of consecuence. 

Have a nice day.

Dear Satan ...

Dear Satan, 

It was very lovely to hear from you, thus confirming that you're still up and high in the soul trading business. Unfortunately, I believe you might have got confused about what our pact was about. Want soul back. Or at least a contract revision. This game of playing and twisting my wishes must be stopped. 

I hope this is nothing more than an unfortunate misunderstanding and that you weren't sending me every wish in the book all at the same time which, compatible as they were in the span of the years, cannot possibly be so in the present temporal frame.

Looking foward to hearing from you. 

Hate, etc,

xxx

Driving Lessons - Crosswalks

 Current mood: talkative

I was going to make this an entry about an entire different topic, but then I did a bit of driving this afternoon. And really. 

It's no secret that I have the driving skills of Godzilla. I can't quite coordinate feet and hands and signs and morons at the same time. This is why I intend to stick to bikes until death. Plus, I'm both-handed and my sense of orientation is a bit distracted, to put it in a non-agressive-for-my-selfconfidence way.

Although, in defense of said selfconfidence, I must say that I was pretty good when I got my license, almost eight years ago now, but due to a compendium of factors, lack of actual vehicle included, I lost my touch. Now that I'm game again, I wonder if I'm really ready for the road.  

I think I am, but the question is, are all the others?

In other words, and after yesterday's events, I'm addressing an important and usually underrated subject when talking about the dangers of driving: CROSSWALKS.

I do believe that there should be curses subsidised by the town Hall or something about crosswalks and the uses of them. This could save us lots of troubles to both drivers and pedestrians. Because most of them seem blissfully unaware of the meaning of those little marks on the pavement. I would volunteer and put my teaching skills to use in order to touch the most necessary topics.

1. Clarifying the area. Some people seem to think that, if there happens to be a crosswalk within, say, 5 to 15 meters, they are well within the crosswalk area, so they can merrily cross without even looking at the road. When you have to suddenly brake and look at them with that thought in your mind, they look right back at you pointing to the distant marks on the road, as if saying 'hey, you moron, don't you see there's a crosswalk over there, in ten metres?'

Fact #1. The vicinity of a crosswalk is NOT a crosswalk. The crossing rights said croswalk grants you do NOT apply to the entire street in which the CW is located. This type of roads does exist, though; they are called pedestrian streets. Please go there for an outdoors chat. 

2. Pedestrian streets. Some people seem to think that CW are the miniature version of the formentioned pedestrian streets, in which you can merrily stop for a drag or to have a chat with your long-lost friend from childhood. If you, the one patiently waiting for them to realise there are better places for reacquanting, happen to move an inch or, god forbids it, use the horn, they will spat like nothing 'what's your problem?? This is a CW, a zone for pedestrians.'

Fact #2. Crosswalks were made for pedestrians to CROSS through, not to LIVE in.

3. The Indecisive Lot. An apparently innocent but dangerous lot is the Indecisive one. You see them from a mile, standing there, one foot already on the CW. You start to brake, the pedestrian looks at you with indecision al over his/her features and, deciding you don't go slowly enough, freaks out and retrieves the foot. You still brake some more, but the Indecisive doesn't trust you. So you think: ok, if you don't want to cross, don't, but I do want to go on. However, the Indecisive Pedestrian is an unpredictable creature, so when you're just gaining speed again, s/he will put one foot on the road again, and you'll have to brake once again. This operation will repeat itself several times before it's over, this is, the Indecisive Pedestrian will look at you with a worried look, and you'll invite him to go on with a gesture -trying not to do other type of gestures crossing your mind at that moment.That, or you'll just go on after his/her explicit gesture of 'no no, go on'.


There is an even more dangerous version of this scenario. When it's a two way road, then you'll have to wait until the Indecisive Pedestrian gathers enough courage and reassurance from the other driver too, before crossing. 

Fact #3. Indecision is a very BAD thing if you are to cross a road (it is a very bad thing, period, but let's focus). Cross or don't cross, but please don't be indecisive.  

4. Grandpas: those lovely creatures.  You see this old and respectable man standing just where the CW starts. Obviously you stop, only to be met by the grandpa's nice and warm smile while he tells you with gestures that you can go ahead, because he's not there for crossing; he's just there. You insist, just in case, but don't be fooled: he WON'T cross. What the hell happened to the banks in the park or the building watch? Maybe this is more interactive for them. 
Fact #4. The sooner you learn to distinguish between the old man who's there for crossing and the annoying old man who's there just to test drivers' patience, the better.

5. Last but not least, you have to be aware of what I call The Roulette of Crosswalks, this is, the possibility of a kid materialising out of nowhere in front of you, without looking anywhere before crossing. In this case, it will be a matter of luck and reflexes.  

If it's dark or you have this really bright sun in the late hours of the day blinding you, the risks increases by 900%. The only thing a driver can do is to pray to his/her favourite saint/god/celebrity for never being involved in a situation like that. 
Fact #5. Increase precautions to the extreme if visibility conditions are not good, or if they are. AND light up a candle for Saint Christopher. 


Anyway, let's face it; pedestrians are not the only ones unaware of the real meaning of 'crosswalks'. Drivers are worth of another few entries themselves, the damned animals. Most of them believe that a CW consist in driving zig zag saving obstacles. Why stopping while an old lady is slowly crossing when I can pass her by 847985467 times before she reaches the other side? So they accelerate, and when nearing the old lady, they zig zag and BAM! they're gone. Who cares if the old lady is left there trembling and with her hand suspiciously grabbing her chest. This lot should have their licenses revoked FOR LIFE. That's street terrorism. 

Rule #6. Not very fast people, whatever their reason, kind of have the same right to cross the road without having to risk their hearts coming out of their mouths in the process.

Best of lucks if you are reading this and currently taking driving lessons. I hope you are a better driver than 90% of the people out there -and I'm being generous with figures.

And if you are already a driver, CHILL OUT, for god's sake.

x

Have a Good Old Night, My Little Cyberpeople

...even though, fact is, you are going to be as unskilled at driving as you were yesterday. Your hair is going to be as unmanageable and silly -or scarce...- as ever, and the gent/lady of your dreams is not going to be knocked off by a bolt of lightning tonight and have an epiphany -and unconditional love for you as a result of such- a la St. Paul on his way to Damascus.

Chances are you will still have to stick to your shitty job because you need the money, money that you're not going to suddenly find under your bed on New Year's Day, either.This is especially true if you live in Iberia these days, but kind of applies universally.

The list of flaws and lackings and stuff NOT accomplished during 2010 will feel as heavy, if not heavier, tomorrow. You will think of the trips you couldn't make, the jobs you weren't offered, the pounds you didn't lose/gain, the changes you didn't ask for, the new self-confident -and usually fake- attitude you were unable to master.

You will still miss your loved ones, gone or just far away; your friends will be your friends and your enemies will be your enemies on the first day of the new year. Difficult people will still be difficult, brainless will remain brainless, and you still will want to throttle them, especially if they tried, and successfully managed, to ruin with their bile the last day of the year (or any other for that matter). And if your meniscus is trying to flee your knee while giving you hell in the process, know that it still will be a bastard on New Year's Day. Fact.

So, technically, there's nothing special about tonight, right? WRONG. Tonight IS the last night of a year, and we made it yet again, someway somehow. YAY!!! We might not be/stay/feel as good as we should, but still we made it and we did lots of things and saw lots of things and shared love in some way or another and good moments and... well, life. And we still have a long list of dreams and goals to fulfill, so bring on the new year!

To all of you who made my 2010 a year to remember for life, either over here or most likely in my beloved London, it was a pleasure to share it with you, and I thank you. I wish you an obscenely amazing New Year's Eve (OLD NIGHT is the literal translation from Spanish NocheVieja, hence the title of the note). Eat and drink and party till you drop but be careful, I want to see you next year! 

And to all of you who tried just the opposite...well. I'm back. And I know who you are.

All the best to you, my lovely friends out there, wherever you are.

Love,

Maribel  / Bela xxx

Merry Christmas

from self and someone else...

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I don't show pictures featuring myself, but this was a MUST, as my british fellows would say ;D

I hope you are all having a lovely holiday, or at least not terribly horrible.

Love,
xx

Once Upon a Junction

It's one o'clock in the morning and I'm about to turn the lights off,  as tomorrow, someone undetermined is likely to appear at my door at an undetermined hour.

These past days I've been very very busy, not busy-but-here-with-Lizzy, as it is usually the case. Luckily I love plannings and I kind of have plans b, c, d, and z, because Ithese past days I've had to use them all, changing from one to the next one moment to the next.

Summary: it's my last night in my London home, where, since Thursday, no one but me is living in, and where I wasn't supposed to be by now either, but well, plan c. Tomorrow I'll be moving to a little hotel near Victoria, in which I will stay until Wed, the day I fly back home. Woohoo.

I was going to tell you about my last bus ride on my 87, or my way back home through the Common, or how ridiculous I felt when I felt -ahem- a knot in my throat as I was paying at Tesco Express for the last time. You know, the sort of silly things that only someone who is already nostalgic, even before leaving a place they don't really, really, really want to leave -oh, saudades..- can think about on their last night.

Against all odds, I don't feel chatty, though. Not really. But I wanted to, I don't know, leave something written, somewhere, about it. You've already read what it says there, on the right, about the written word. So, there.

Good night.

The Basil Allegory

Current Mode Warning: Abnormally silly and a bit under the weather (aka leave now that you can. Seriously).

So, I feel quite...withered, today. I also feel somewhat guilty as well, beacuse I know I spend my hours doing god knows what and I never find time to come in here. So I've thought hey, why not spend this wonderful babysitting evening spreading the black wings of misery in here? Or something like that. (NOTE: the wing thing came out of nowhere; I wonder whether it's time for me to start writing thrillers, or for you to leave te blog right now and go to Manhattan or any other less withered place).

I'm watching Basil, who is right in front of me right now, keeping me company while I eat my third pizza in less than 24 hours. I've decided that I'm not taking a last picture of him (I also decided that it's a him). Apparently, with all the moving countries drama and all, Basil turned to be a collateral damage. I confess that it's not like I've been taking care of Basil or anything, basically because it was V.'s job, and also because I don't really believe in plants, nor pay much attention to them. I just ignore they are alive, I think. 

That's the reason why a couple of days ago, when I really took notice of Basil again after a while, I was a bit shocked.

As you already know, I'm terrible at taking care of plants, because neither I like them nor I understand them, but of course, the fact that I don't always acknowledge them doesn't make them less alive. Therefore, never had I imagined that one could feel actual loss when you see your little plant clearly dying and with no prospects of salvation. Funny how I didn't know that Basil had become my little plant. In a way.

It was a couple of days ago when I first realised. I was casually passing by the table when I noticed that although Basil's leaves and upper stems seemed to be healthy green, the lower parts were a bit brown. I kept on inspecting it, and it was then when I realised that Basil' roots were really brown and withered. I've never liked the colour brown. It's the worst colour of them all (except in jackets and boots, but that's another shallow story for another more shallow time).

I felt like I've been told bad news, I swear. This might not mean an awful lot to you people who don't really know me, but trust me that that's a huge first. In a very childlike attempt to do something, anything, for Basil, I ran to the tap and filled a glass with water. He drank it in one gulp. I assesed the situation and ran to the tap again for a second glass. He drank it all too. I was hesitant about a third one, so I just half refilled it.

I took a look at him again, and I realised that, no matter how many glasses of wated I filled, Basil had long passed the point of no return. 

I took Lizzy and my phone upstairs, and surprisingly started to cry.

Ok, maybe it wasn't all for Basil. Maybe it was because I have an exam and I'm slightly tense. Maybe it was because the taking of the exam means the end of my staying in London and, no matter how much I want to not-acknowledge the fact, or how much I want to see the situation from happier points of view, the truth is that my conscience is a bitch. And she knows that the truth is that I don't want to go back to Spain.
Maybe it was also because of the B.'s leaving a week earlier than they told me in the first place, rendering me homeless less than a week away from my leaving. Or about them leaving at all. Or about lots of other reasons that shouldn't be shared on an internet blog.

However, I know that in part, I was upset about Basil. Because we arrived in here almost at the same time, and we are kind of parting at the same time, too. Just my luck, the only plant I've ever cared for in my life ended up being a fan of allegories.

So now, before taking my gloomy mood upstairs to continue with grammar and damned phrasal verbs and collocations, I'm goingo to give Basil a couple of glasses of water. I will be doing the same until the day I leave my keys on the table and close the door. Don't care if I just have an plantless plantpot.

PS: And now please go and have a drink or something; your system is in dire need of balance after this entry.