Home Sweet Home

August 28, 2006

As always, I felt kinda dodgy when I was waiting for the bus. Despite being cool to my elders and acting like I couldn’t care less because I’m going, a stupid sensation filled inside my lungs. It dawned on me then that one is never able to overcome that particular feeling. I’ve been visiting the seaside where my aunts live for over 10 years now, but each time I have to go, they shed some tears, I don’t make a fuss about it, and I go. But everytime that particular feeling comes and confuses me. “What if?”s fill in the blanks in your mind, making matters even worse.

So I get on the bus and, nothing to do, I try to sleep. As if I had never intentionally woke late so I can sleep in the damned bus, I discover that I am unable to sleep, no matter how tired I am. My tounge is busy playing with the stupid piece of meat coming out inside my cheeck. It is like the ultimate boredom I can ever feel. My dead brain is trying to think something but is too lazy even to choose something to think about, and I soon discover I’ve been looking outside to the road for several hours.

After about 10 hours of travel, I find myself waiting for a taxi to take me home. I feel good at being home, since well basically everything I would need is here. My super-fast computer, books and all the other stuff. But theres resentment in me about this arrival. I miss the seaside. Despite my rants about the seaside itself in the last post, I like being there. Free of any particular responsibility.

I know I’ve promised you – my dear, dear readers – not to write about what I did, I’m writing these so I can understand it myself. So it is a totally selfish effort. It may seem cruel and boring to you that I’m not an entertainer like some other “commercial” bloggers, but, what the heck, this is my blog and I can probably shit on it if I really wanted to.

I can’t find anything else to write, maybe I’ll post other stuff sometime later.


Jam Tomorrow

August 19, 2006

It has been a while since my last post, but then, that is what makes my wonderful blog so very much appealing, doesn’t it?

One would wonder why I am now sitting where I am, attempting at writing sentences which I know I won’t like, rather than going to the sea that is just about 20 meters away from my house. Well, I do not know the answer myself..

I actually ommitted a lot of paragraphs before this one because I thought that anybody reading this would at least want to get something from what I write, so I won’t say “I did this and that” from now on.

It won’t be false to say that I, too -like many other people-, have self esteem issues. Funnily enough, this isn’t because I feel incompetent or anything near people. Its not about feeling anyway. I tend to think of myself as a tad more intelligent than other people and solid against attacks that come from -so called- friends that are aimed to make you feel stupid around other people. The problem is fatness. I don’t think such a word exists, but that probably should give you enough idea.

Fatness is bad. I’m not saying this because it increases diabetes, risk of heart attacks or I even remotely care about healthy living. It is bad because people do not like proximity with you. Touching you becomes an issue, and not just your tummy or anything, it seems that people perceive you as a disgusting ooze-emitting creature. As if they probe the skin a little, all that fat is going to explode down your side and cover them up.

And sometimes they experiment with you. “Wohoo! I hit you from your belly and the wave travels all over your stomach and up to your boobs -yes, you have boobs!!”

And all you can do is to do nothing and maybe smile indifferently, acknowledging that your friend (!) just proved he is better than you. You know you cannot blame anyone else for your fatness, and so you just let those kinds of things slip by. Otherwise you are a cry-baby who makes every little action an issue.

Ironically enough, I am now with some relatives that turn to issue into a relation-basing thing. Probably that sentence is far frombeinggramatically correct, but I’ll try to explain. While on the seaside sitting with them, they judge every person that passes by, by their looks. “Oh my god just look at how fat that guy is!”, “Wow she’s really beautiful and slim!”, “ZOMG He’s very handsome!” Just because that certain “he” has a literally flat body. They’d rather die than be fat.

After all this, you would think I’m over 300kg or something right? Nay. I’m not gargantuan as you would expect. I’m moderately over my normal (about 20 pounds) weight.

So how is this all related to what I have said at the beginning of this blog post. Well, because of all of these reasons, I am not a very popular person. I base my relations upon win-win situations. I don’t pretend like I’m having fun only to go to somewhere cool with someone cool, nor do I like to bore people with my own shit just so I can have some fun myself (thepoorblog.. 😦 )

Since the seaside experience would normally be a social one, and I get bored pretty easily when there is nothing to do but stare at flat guys try to get flat girls’ attention, I do not visit there very often, and would not die if there were no seas around.

But when I come to think about it, I guess it would be fun if I had a slimmer body. Who knows? (Hopefully I will, I even run for about 2km in the mornings.)

Yes, I know, pathetic.

When I first started typing I didn’t know how this post would turn out, and probably had a super great idea when I entered “Jam Tomorrow” into that Title box. But I forgot it now.


August 2, 2006

I totally HATE electronics vendors. I despise them, especially in New York. I was fortunate enough, in my life, to visit New York in the past days. To tell the truth, its not that fascinating. Yeah well, maybe even Yahoo! has its own LCD screen stuck to a wall of a building, but overall (to the extent of my visitation) the city is dirty. I’m not an obsessive person who would die rather than be dirty, but even using my hands to swipe away the sweat has become a doubtful action for me. I got the habit of always wondering “Have I touched anything hideous since the last time I washed my hands?” before getting my hands near my face. It was very hot, too.

Again, I very successfully managed to create a paragraph that is quite inconsistent with what the first sentence has to say about the paragraph itself. The reason I hate these people are derived from a quite simple action mechanism. The problem is, I don’t even get why they do that.

We were strolling along the 5Th avenue and I was cautiously looking for any electronics shop to ask about digital cameras and iPods. Not that I was going to buy one from a mischievous vendor, but just to see the prices. I happened to pass by one particular shop “Video Camera City” and went in. The guy at the counter was very interested and helped me in every step, explaining me everything about the product I was looking at and even made very appropriate jokes at times. I said that I would not be buying any merchandise today, since I newly arrived, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He said that I should come back tomorrow when there are discounts.

So I did. I went to that same shop one day later. The guy looked exactly the same, but that was the only similarity between the person I spoke to the day before. He welcomed me like a pig and didn’t seem all that interested about me being there. I’m not annoyed very easily, so I let that slip by. Then, he says that all the merchandise that I said I would buy has been sold out. “Yep” I think “He’s lying, but that’s not unusual.” So I say well then show me something better this time. Despite the fact that the camera he showed me was 7MP the day before, he got out a shitty brand camera that was 6MP. I cleared my throat and politely noted to him that I wanted a “better” camera. He insisted that the one he had shown me was 5MP.


But that was not the end. I said I didn’t want any digital cameras and said that I wanted to buy that 30G iPod that he said he would sell for $160. Guessing that he would try to pull the same shit again, I said it in a rather mocking way, and the response I got was not much of a different tone. I put up my serious look and told him to cut the crap or I’ll leave. He just told me to go away.

So this really messes up my mind. Either, the guy didn’t really want to sell anything to me or had a personal thing with me, which I was unable to identify, or the store is so popular that I’m an expendable customer, and he just didn’t feel like doing that particular discount he would do.

I, very luckily, experienced three more occurrences of similar behavior and ended up concluding that they didn’t want the customer to compare any prices. You get it at that time or you get nothing.

A business tactic I do not understand, but undoubtedly works, otherwise they would not be doing it.

So I returned to the place I called “home”, Maryland and bought and iPod to myself from the Apple store, keeping my worries clear.

I love the thing. The sound quality is great and, with the help of the fast internet connected to my apartment, I downloaded about 2 gigabytes of songs, and still counting.

I admit! I’m a criminal! I’m stealing songs from limewire even as I write. And that feels SO good.