Ipod es una porquería.

Hace apenas unas semanas escuche en NPR un reportaje sobre la mala calidad de ciertos gadgets actuales que apenas te duran el tiempo que te cubre la garantía y un par de meses después dejan de funcionar. Aunque el reportaje mencionaba a los Ipods en forma bien directa no le di mayor importancia y seguí con mi vida, despreocupada, hasta que llego el punto de quiebre.

Más o menos hace un mes tuve un problema con mi Ipod de dos años. Estaba tocando música en mis parlantes Bose y al querer adelantar a la siguiente canción el Ipod se atoro y dejo de funcionar por completo; al apagarlo y volverlo a encender me encuentro con que ninguna de mis 17,000 canciones estaba en el disco duro – Ok. No big deal – me puse en ese mismo instante a hacer un restore del software y a volver a instalar las canciones, pero luego de 5 horas y varios intentos, el Ipod, el software, y las canciones, no mostraban la menor intención de ponerse a trabajar.

En eso se me vienen a la mente los nuevos comerciales de Ipod, el del chico chic, delgado, trendy que representa a Apple, y el del gordito de terno, lentes, súper nerd que representa a Windows. Yo evidentemente fui suficientemente cojuda de creerme los comerciales e irme por el reproductor de mp3s mas trendy y ‘lindo’ del mercado sin prestar la menor atención a la competencia que ofrece mejores equipos a mucho menor precio.

Mi novio me regalo mi Ipod de 60 GB tercera generación hace dos años y un Ipod nano de 4 GB primera generación hace un año por que al fin y al cabo soy una mimada y me compran todo lo que pido. En fin, el Ipod que se fue a la mierda fue el de 60 GB así que ayer, muy pacientemente, con el corazón en la garganta, y con la tarjeta de crédito lista para pagar el arreglo del aparato me dirigí hacia el Apple Store a ver que se podía hacer… OK. Para resumir, una mierda absoluta.

El servicio al consumidor de Apple es pésimo. Al llegar me dijeron que debía tener una cita para que se dignen ver a mi Ipod, que si no tengo una cita que la puedo hacer online, pero que igual no tienen ninguna ventana de servicio abierta así que me toca esperar nomás, y por ultimo, que si me gusta bien, sino, también!

Mi novio para este punto estaba que mandaba a la mierda al ‘genius’ de Apple (así los denominan a los mancitos que trabajan en la tienda), y yo tratando de apaciguar los ánimos le pedí al man que aunque sea le de una mirada al Ipod a ver si sabia que pasaba.

30 minutos y varias llamadas telefónicas de parte del ‘genius’, el man coge mi Ipod y me dice: “mira, tu Ipod tiene el hardware dañado y la garantía se acabo hace un año, así que tienes dos opciones: pagar $249 dólares por el mismo Ipod con un nuevo hardware, o pagar el precio de un nuevo Ipod menos 10% de descuento por el Ipod viejo – tu decide”.

OSEA?!?!?!

Primero, no tengo plata para gastarme mas de $300 en otro nuevo Ipod, segundo, así tuviera el dinero no estoy dispuesta a comprarme otro Ipod que se que se va a dañar así por que si! Y claro, luego nos ponemos a pensar – obvio que son de tan mala calidad! Si no fuese así, Ipod no tendría un puesto de servicio técnico dentro de cada una de sus tiendas! Los productos de Apple se venden por lindos y trendy, no por calidad, y si quieres tener algo que te dure por varios años debes irte por lo que sea menos por Apple.

Me permito generalizar que Apple son los de los problemas, no solamente los Ipod, por que he escuchado a varios de mis amigos quejarse de la poca calidad de las Powerbook o cualquier otro computador de esta marca, y encima el servicio al consumidor deja muchísimo que desear. En la vida real el “genius” de Apple se parece mucho mas al nerd de las propagandas en contra de Windows que al otro dude.

En fin, escribo todo esto para recomendarles que NO COMPREN IPODS. Hay otros sistemas en el mercado (como Creative Labs o cualquier otro) que van a dar menos problemas a menor costo (lo digo por experiencia – antes del Ipod tenia un Zen de creative labs que hasta ahora funciona súper bien a pesar de las numerosas veces de darse contra el piso).

Tenemos la responsabilidad de ser consumidores pensantes y comprar lo que es bueno y rechazar lo que no lo es. A la mierda Apple!

Julius

Doesn’t it suck when people die?
My uncle died more than a year ago. I don’t know the exact date, but I remember receiving my mom’s phone call when I was leaving my apartment to go to chorus practice at a church in London’s east side. I had joined an American group of singers who were going to perform for Thanksgiving service in St. Paul’s Cathedral.
When she called we talked just about everything but his death – she asked how everything was, I complained of my current situation: about leaving London, sad to the bone, lonely, confused as usual. Just about to hang up she said, “can I tell you something sad?”, “what’s going on?” “Julius died yesterday”.

I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t feel anything. He was gone and that was it.

Then, as if trying to recall some feeling, trying to prove to myself that I could cry and that I felt something for someone, I started thinking about the past and his life in my life: Uncle Julius cooking spaghetti for Sunday brunch, the black and white photos of his mom and brother (people he never talked about), images just sitting in a table, always untouched, facing the main entrance (once I moved them out of curiosity and he got really mad at me – probably one of the few times he got so upset about something I did). Then I though about his hammock, how he used to hang it from two hooks, one in each wall in the living room, and hang the hammock right there in the middle of the room, barely taking care of the coffee table and the expensive china, so that the baby girl (me!) could play on her own while the grown-ups rested.

He also had that tea set, British it was, always clean, dusted, impeccable in one side of the living room – I never asked where he got it from?, why it meant so much? Questions that are left silent, and answer that will always remain quiet.

It’s interesting that it has taken me a full year to come around and write about him.
We were close while I was a child, but my teenage years took me to places far away from him – although I always remembered his long and gentle hands, his way to tell stories, his smell of lavender cologne and his grey cotton sweaters.

I miss him. Besides my grandmother, he is the only person I’ve lost.
I know. I’ve been lucky; I’ve had very few deaths around and only these two have meant something.

My mom told me that he said goodbye a few weeks before he died. He asked her to call me and let me know; he asked her not to cry, to get a new dress for his funeral, to have a small dinner on his behalf and make sure that his daughter in law wouldn’t throw away his stuff: things that, although seemingly worthless, meant the world to him, God knows why.

In any case, he died. My mom took everything she could – the daughter in law is a bitch and she wouldn’t allow her keep Julius stuff. They organized a mass and a small dinner party. They had Italian food and red wine in his honor. Against all odds very few people attended the funeral – his closest friends are all so old that they barely leave home, and the young people are gone, like me.

As of today I am here, remembering, just as I remember every week, every month, about him and his smell, his words, his deep voice, his gentleness, his laughter, and as of this moment I miss him – like I always do.

A piece of art

These figures have been on sale in an art gallery in Toronto for years. I think they are adorable, and every time I walk by this place I think about getting them for my bathroom.


Yesterday we finally made up our minds and we decided to get them; however, our budget was nowhere close to the retail price of these happy-naked people - 3,000 Canadian dollars each!!!.


We, of course, had no choice but turn around and leave, but from the window outside I took these pictures (free of charge!) just to have with me instead of the original pieces.

Happiness is...

Having three tickets in first row to see Ira Glass at the Center for the Arts at the end of February. :)

Columbus Day Storm

So Thursday night I get home and everything seems pretty normal. The power is down in a few houses down the street but our apartment complex is still well lit – yeah!. I get home, follow my usual routine: turn the laptop on, change my work clothes, play some music in my ipod and sit down to check e-mails.

The storm started around 2 pm that afternoon, and by the time I left work my car was already covered in snow. What is usually a 20 min drive from work to home took around 45 minutes because everybody was driving so slowly – the streets were slippery and visibility was an issue.

By 9 pm we already had around 5 inches of snow all over the city and the suburbs, something unprecedented as never in history we’ve had a snow storm so early in the year – it’s just mid-october, for god’s sakes!

Around 8:30 pm, sitting in my living room browsing the net, the power went out. Just as the lights went off, N made it home, and just a few minutes later we decided to go out to pick up my brother from work – we knew it would take somewhat longer to make it to UB because of the weather, but we really had no idea of what would come.

9:05 pm, N’s car (a mini SUV) is stuck in the snow. After several minutes going back and forth we managed to drive out of the snow and towards the road. We made it to UB around 10 pm – a drive that usually takes 15 minutes took about 40 min. that night. We picked up Bill and headed back home. The snow was falling so hard for three times we had to stop in the middle of the road to clean the windshield because the snow was getting stuck under the wipers and we couldn’t see anything beyond the front of our car – dangerous situation. By quarter to 11 we made it home and watched a movie.

I knew I’d have to wake up earlier to clean my car to make it to work on time, so I woke up at 6:15 am on Friday, took a shower, and as I was getting ready I looked outside my windows and this is what I saw (see picture). The radio said that the whole Buffalo area was in state of emergency, driving ban was on place in five counties, schools were closed, and by 7 am almost two hundred thousand people didn’t have power at their homes.

Ok. No biggie. I went back to bed, and laying there the first thing that came to my mind was all the food we had in the fridge! About $200 in food was about to get spoiled, and that, my man, is a lot of money. Anyway, I sort of relaxed when N told me that if we didn’t open the freezer our food would last a couple of days frozen, but little did we know that it would take for days until we got power back!

The last phone call we received on Friday was from my boss telling me to stay home because there was no power at work either, and all our phone lines were down. Yupi! No work today! – I thought. About a minute after this phone call our phone lines went down too, so we turned off all our cell phones – except one, for an emergency – and ventured out looking for something for breakfast.

N and I dressed in our snow gear and headed out to the store. By the time we got there –walking over snow that was up to my knees high– we gladly found out that actually Wegman’s was open, and they had what looked like zombies working at the cashier. You see, it happened that the night crew at the store never actually went home, so those people hadn’t slept in more than 20 hours – they looked awful.

After shopping for a while we headed back home. Friday was kind of fun overall. After we came back from the store we stayed home all day, we read a lot, slept a lot, ate a lot, and at night we played Monopoly (I so much rule at Monopoly!!!) and then we went to bed. Of course, without power our heating system wasn’t working so I went to bed wearing thermal underwear, pajama and a sweater – the three of us had a very good night in spite of the cold.

By Saturday morning we were already missing our dear electricity. We hadn’t seen the news, heard the radio, checked our e-mails, played music in almost two days. We took a two minutes shower each (we had to save hot water just in case power didn’t come back by Monday) and headed out to the shopping mall. We had lunch at Jack Astors (too much garlic for my taste, but the boys seemed to enjoy it) and we went shopping for a while and then to the movies. We watched that dull movie, Man of the Year, the last one with Robin Williams (there was nothing else playing at the time we got there), so I guess that was alright just to keep us away from the dungeon (this is how we call home now that is dark and cold).

By the way, each day that passes our house gets 5 degrees colder. We are in the lower sixties by now, so we have an extra cover in our bed and I’m wearing thicker socks and am thinking on getting my gloves from storage.

On Sunday morning I woke up a little cranky already. We had nothing to do at home, we couldn’t eat any warm food because we have an electric stove (no power, no stove!), we can’t shower –and without a shower, I won’t get out of home, and already I had a splitting headache for reading by candle light. As I had nothing better to do I started to clean our place – I didn’t get too far as I couldn’t use our vacuum, but at least our kitchen and bathrooms are clean!

Then I thought, “well, to hell with self cleanliness! I’m going out without a shower!” So, looking like a refugee, I headed towards the city to get something to eat.

Well, it seems that I wasn’t the only one with such a bright idea – everybody in Amherst was eating out! The lines at Tim Hortons were an hour long; the lines at the sandwich place at Wegman’s were even longer! I need food in order to keep my blood sugar up (otherwise I start shaking and eventually lose all consciousness) and I was already feeling hot and shaky for not having had anything to eat in almost 12 hours.
I picked up some sushi, some Chinese food, some bread, a gallon of green tea and a bottle of chocolate milk and went home. In the way back I almost hit a car –well, that’s what the other driver told me, because I didn’t realize it until this huge guy comes down from an SUV towards my car and starts yelling at me through the window; pretty scary, I know.

So now I’m afraid to drive, I sort of hate people, I’m cold, my hair is a mess (blow-dryers need power too!), my fridge stinks (haven’t taken the food out of the freezer yet), my floors are dirty and I’m running out of clean clothes to go to work.


Ok. This section up here I wrote in a moment of fury (hehe).
By the time we made it back from work this afternoon, power was restored in our apartment complex, yessss!!!
I finally cleaned up our fridge and all our food went right to the trash – it was rather sad, let me tell you.
As a manner of celebration for having electricity back, we went out for Indian food, and now we are washing all our clothes.

As a summary of the whole ordeal, most people already have power back in the area. Almost two hundred people suffered carbon oxide poisoning caused by generators kept in non-ventilated areas. The whole city looks awful – the trees, that were the most beautiful trait of this place, are mostly ruined. The weight of the snow broke most of the trees’ branches and now we have branches and trees all over the streets.

I know it couldn’t have been worse, but these four these were pretty insane overall. We all need another weekend to recover from this past one, and after this storm we are all starting to fear the winter that is coming over us – everybody says it’s going to be a tough one.

Como si nada.

Te vi esta tarde, Darío.
Trabajabas en la sección de testing en mi oficina. Estabas vestido de trabajo, con kakis y camisa de rayas. Super formalito, con el cabello bien arreglado con gel, caminabas por los pasillos saludando a la gente en forma profesional. Al sentir mi mirada en ti regresaste a verme, te sonreí, te pregunte como andabas y luego cada quien a su cubiculo, a seguir trabajando.

Evidentemente el muchacho de esta tarde no fuiste tú, y no se acerca siquiera al que ahora eres. Como me gustaría tenerte cerca. Te extraño.

World of Warcraft se ha robado a mi macho!

Es oficial. World of Warcraft me ha re-emplazado en la vida de N como pareja preferida en las noches y fines de semana, y temo que en muy poco ese maldito juego tomara cargo por tiempo indefinido la mente de mi novio.

Estoy jodida. Me voy a dormir por las noches sola. Me paso webeando los fines de semana y revoloteando al rededor de un ser que no tiene ojos que no sean dirigidos hacia la pantalla. La cosa esta tan grave que el dia de hoy, por ejemplo, la oracion con mayor emocion que he recibido de parte de N ha sido "mira mamor! mi hipogrifo esta volando! - que graficos que bestia!" y luego, como si nada, ha vuelto a hundirse en ese mundo virtual al que por el momento no tengo acceso.

Ok. Dado mi instinto practico y bien dirigido, a buscar soluciones se ha dicho!

Solucion 1. Cortar la electricidad de la casa
Problema a la solucion 1. No tengo velas, no me gusta leer sin la luz necesaria, y ademas me quedo sin laptop y sin cargador de ipod.

Solucion 2. Destruir la maldita computadora!
Problema a la solucion 2. Pierdo todas las fotos y musica que aun tengo en esa maquina y no he tranferido a mi laptop.

Solucion 3. Empezar a jugar yo misma, hacerme maestra en el juego, ganarle mil y una veces hasta que se despeche y asi recuperar a mi macho.
Problema a la solucion 3. Es una solucion a largo plazo. No he jugado nada desde que Prince of Persia era hecho a base de tres colores y los pasitos del man sonaban 'tahj, tahj, tahj'. Ademas, el ganarle y hacerle despechar del juego puede causarle una depresion mortal y lo ultimo que quiero es un amante deprimido.

Solucion 4. Andar llucha por la casa hasta que me pare bola!
Problema a la solucion 4. Mi hermano vive con nosotros.

Solucion 5. Aguantarme por hoy. Joder y seguir con la lucha el dia de manana.

... Y como soy un ser logico, luego de medir los pros y cons de mis opciones, me voy ehj por la shinco, Polito!

No es que me estoy rindiendo, pero estoy cansada, tengo suenio, y quiero leer Wicked. Asi que tamanana!

David Sedaris - Ya van tres

Esta noche, por tercera vez en dos anios, he tenido el absoluto placer de ver a David Sedaris leer sus obras en SUNY @ Buffalo. Sedaris, como he mencionado antes, es un fabuloso autor satirico, renombrado en montones de lugares como uno de los mejores escritores de comedia contemporaneos, y se lo conoce como lo mas cercano a una estrella de rock en el mundo de la literatura.

La sola idea de pensar en ver a Sedaris de nuevo me ha tenido con el corazon dando saltitos y buscando minutos en los que escaparme de mi trabajo para re-leer sus piezas. Ya se, ya se, ya se, soy una absoluta nerd. Quien mas se emocionaria de esta manera por ver a un escritor? Pero asi pasa cuando ves a alguien a quien admiras montones y quien definitivamente merece tu admiracion.

David Sedaris nacio en algun lugar de Western NY, y luego fui a vivir con su familia a North Carolina. De descendencia griega, Sedaris crecio en una familia con una madre bastante efimera y ligera de cargas emocionales, y un padre notoriamente mas plantado en la tierra. Como apenas uno de 5 hijos, David y sus hermanas buscaban formas de llamar la atencion de sus padres a travez de bromas y travesuras que al parecer resultaron bastante eficaces en desarrollar sus instintos artisticos.

Entre las piezas que Sedaris leyo esta noche estaba una de una lora periodista y un cochinito gordo, una ninera que parecia salida de una prision de mujeres (u hombres), y una historia preciosa en la que trataba sobre las ideas de los heterosexuales sobre el sexo homosexual. Me gusto, por cierto, una mencion que hizo hacia un comercial que pasaban en Londres a principio de este anio; iba algo asi:

Tarro de Vaselina - $5
Caja de condones - $20
Revistas Pornograficas - $45
Hacer creer a tus padres que tu hermano es homosexual - Priceless.

Cague de risa, no? Lastima que no se me ocurrio antes!

Ah, y la mierda es que como tengo que trabajar manana no me pude quedar a pedir su autografo :( - pero igual no importa tanto por que al fin y al cabo tengo todos sus libros autografiados y estoy casi, casi, casi segura que si le veo una vez mas el man se va a acordar de mi nombre ... hahaha, dream on !!!

Otrito...

Bueno, estoy matando tiempo hasta que el N llegue a sacarme de los pelos de la casa para ir al gimnasio.

Nota: N no me saca de los pelos de la casa para ir al gimnasio por que soy una gorda asquerosa, sino por que le pedi esta tarde que sea lo que sea que tenga que hacer, me lleve a pegarme un trotesito en las maquinas por al menos una media hora por que me siento hecho un plasto y yaf.

En fin, como no he escrito hace tiempos como que me dio ganitas de contar webadas mientras espero. Asi que aqui van:

1. Mi hermano es un cague de risa. Pasamos cague de risa. No nos vemos mucho, pero cuando nos vemos es un goze total.

2. Ya estoy harta hasta morir de Buffalo. El fin de semana la pasamos en Toronto y fue como un respiro revitalizador el caminar por calles llenas de polucion, homeless, y gays. Tenemos que salir de este sitio por nuestro bienestar mental, o sino voy a empezar a matar republicanos en cualquier momento.

3. Quien se imaginaria que los chinitos, tan cagues de risa que parecian, sean tan hijuepuktas cuando a negocios se refiere. Tengo un cliente que es un infeliz hijo de su perra madre que me regatea precios de inspecciones por mierdas 20USD y me mata de iras por que no es un cliente tan importante pero igual no puedo putearle por que osea, no valefff. En fin.

4. Que babosadas puedo decir a veces. Yo soy la primerita en mandar a la mierda a la gente cuando se ponen a generalizar webadas sobre razas o religiones, y yo primerita mandando a la mierda a los chinitos. Por si algun chinito lee esta webada, lo siento de corazon.

5. No se si han leido las noticias, pero en las ultimas 3 semanas han habido como 5 tiroteos en escuelas de USA.Esta sociedad es una verch. Tengo que salir de aqui !!!!!!!!

ya.. ya... ya.... !!!!

Ayer, mi mejor amiga me escribe y me dice que se casa. Bueno, ya era horita. La man vive de semi-legal en un pais extrangero (que no voy a decir el nombre por que ahi si que de ley que van a saber de quien estoy hablando) y por fin va a legalizar la cosa a travez de un cuasi-matrimonio que tienen disponible en dicho pais sin nombre.

Y ya, osea, no estoy en shock por que me parece muy buena idea el arreglar los asuntos de documentacion a travez de un simple y comodo arreglo marital, pero que bestia ... si es el fin de una era. Ya todos casandose, y los que no estamos casados estamos metidos hasta las patas en nuestras parejas. Me imagino que en unos meses/anios van a empezar a corretear todos los mini-me por aqui y por alla y de ahi empiezan los divorcios, claro. Pero tenaz... osea, y si mejor todos nos dejamos de webadas y paramos esta farza y de una vez por todas nos regresamos al colegio? digo, no seria mas facil?

Papi -- Click en la foto !!!

Te espera una chevere sorpresa ... !!!

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So click it now!

Something True:

It's nice to wake up one day and realize that the life that you have right now is exactly the life you dreamt of having when you were a child.

Together Again... :)

Billy and Magu, August 2006.

Time present and time past...

Buirnt Norton, by T.S. Eliot is one of my favorite poems; it means so much and reflects what I've many times thought about. Here's a little portion of the first of four quartets:


Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echoThus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.

(...)

Do what you love, by Tony Hawk.

(Here's another essay written for the NPR series "This I Believe". This one is written by super famous skater Tony Hawk -- The reason I like this essay? Simple. It's a reminder that you don't have to follow the conventional paths set up by society to be successful. You can make a living out of something that looks insane, but be happy; and out of that happiness, achieve success. Seems easy, right? Yeah, I wish!)

"I believe that people should take pride in what they do, even if it is scorned or misunderstood by the public at large.

I have been a professional skateboarder for 24 years. For much of that time, the activity that paid my rent and gave me my greatest joy was tagged with many labels, most of which were ugly. It was a kids' fad, a waste of time, a dangerous pursuit, a crime.

When I was about 17, three years after I turned pro, my high school "careers" teacher scolded me in front of the entire class about jumping ahead in my workbook. He told me that I would never make it in the workplace if I didn't follow directions explicitly. He said I'd never make a living as a skateboarder, so it seemed to him that my future was bleak.

Even during those dark years, I never stopped riding my skateboard and never stopped progressing as a skater. There have been many, many times when I've been frustrated because I can't land a maneuver. I've come to realize that the only way to master something is to keep it at -- despite the bloody knees, despite the twisted ankles, despite the mocking crowds.

Skateboarding has gained mainstream recognition in recent years, but it still has negative stereotypes. The pro skaters I know are responsible members of society. Many of them are fathers, homeowners, world travelers and successful entrepreneurs. Their hairdos and tattoos are simply part of our culture, even when they raise eyebrows during PTA meetings.

So here I am, 38 years old, a husband and father of three, with a lengthy list of responsibilities and obligations. And although I have many job titles -- CEO, Executive Producer, Senior Consultant, Foundation Chairman, Bad Actor -- the one I am most proud of is "Professional Skateboarder." It's the one I write on surveys and customs forms, even though I often end up in a secondary security checkpoint.

My youngest son's pre-school class was recently asked what their dads do for work. The responses were things like, "My dad sells money" and "My dad figures stuff out." My son said, "I've never seen my dad do work."

It's true. Skateboarding doesn't seem like real work, but I'm proud of what I do. My parents never once questioned the practicality behind my passion, even when I had to scrape together gas money and regarded dinner at Taco Bell as a big night out.

I hope to pass on the same lesson to my children someday. Find the thing you love. My oldest son is an avid skater and he's really gifted for a 13-year-old, but there's a lot of pressure on him. He used to skate for endorsements, but now he brushes all that stuff aside. He just skates for fun and that's good enough for me.

You might not make it to the top, but if you are doing what you love, there is much more happiness there than being rich or famous."

Billy, Moleskine, Trabajo, Viajes, Boing-Boing

Mi hermano viene a vivir conmigo en Agosto :). Esa es la buena noticia de la semana - no es que haya pasado nada malo, pero es que cuando uno trabaja todo se pone en alto y no hay muchas cosas emocionantes que contar.

Hace unos 4 meses cuando estuve en San Francisco, caminando por Castro (el distrito gay) me encontré con la primera tienda en la que (por fin!) pude comprar una Moleskine. Para los que no saben, una Moleskine es una agenda que originalmente era producida en Francia (creo que ahora la hacen en Italia) y tiene la particularidad de mantenerse abierta al escribir - no necesitas un peso en la otra pagina para mantener la agenda abierta. Además tiene una textura deliciosa - la tinta del esfero y la mina de los lapiceros parece flotar sobre el papel y a mí hasta me sale linda la letra cuando escribo en mi Moleskine :D

La cosa es que estoy tan afanosa de mi adorada y chic agenda que escribo todo lo que se me ocurre a.C. y no escribo nada por acá! Pero es que obviof, tengo la agenda a mano cuando se me ocurra, en cambio no me atrevo a empezar a postear desde la oficina -- el Internet monitoreado y las babosadas de corporate America me dan yeyo así que prefiero ir por lo seguro: no postear, y mantener mi trabajo.

Por cierto, mi trabajo va bien. Estoy abombada por que no tengo mucho movimiento en mis cuentas en estos días, pero veo que se me vienen dos viajecitos en lo que queda del año: uno a Toronto y el otro a San Francisco, CA. Woojoo!!! Estoy feliz por que San Francisco es una delicia de ciudad y realmente estoy contando los minutos por volver a visitarla.

Y por ultimo, un consejo ... Vayan a Google y escriban "Boing Boing". Lean esa página, es fantástica.

Mi Tecnica

Tengo la noción de que a mi los libros me llaman.

No leí ‘Cien años de soledad’ sino hasta que cumplí 20 por que no me sentía preparada para leerlo, y por ahí tengo una caja repleta de libros que estoy segura son excelentes (recomendados por amigos, profes y críticos cuya opinión respeto muchísimo) pero hay algo en mi que no me deja leerlos sino hasta que empiecen a llamarme.

En la universidad mi técnica era esta: empezar el día como cualquier otro, escribir mis ensayos y críticas para mis clases, pasar hasta media noche en la biblioteca y cuando todo estaba completamente callado y entre los libreros no se escuchaba mas que las hojas de un libro leído por alguien en algún rincón, yo dejaba todo en mi escritorio, me cubría con mi ponchito (uno negro que usaba en las noches terriblemente heladas en este lugar) y luego iba a divagar entre columnas y columnas de libros hasta encontrar uno que llame mi nombre. A los libros los tocaba, sentía su textura, olía ese aroma de papel, tinta y polvo, tocaba sus hojas ligeramente, los balanceaba entre mis manos para determinar su peso, luego al abrirlos por primera vez me fijaba en si las letras eran suficientemente grandes y los espacios entre líneas adecuados para facilitar la lectura, y por último me ponía a leer y buscar entre las páginas una frase o una palabra que hagan ‘clic’ en mi mente y que me indicaran que ése es el libro que ahora tenía que leer.

Mi otra tecnica requiere un poco más de investigación. Una vez que he terminado de leer un libro que me encanta busco las citas que el autor ha incluido en su obra para dirigirme a otros autores y otros libros que de alguna manera influenciaron lo que acabo de leer, y así sucesivamente sigue la cadena.
Fue de esa forma que empecé una vez con Benedetti hace muchísimos años, luego seguí con Mempo Giardinelli y otros autores hasta terminar con Oliverio Girondo; y fue de igual manera con García Márquez que me guió hasta Juan Rulfo y luego a Alejo Carpentier – todos fabulosos escritores.

Ciertos libros, creo yo, tienen el potencial de impactar tu vida de la misma forma que haría alguien al que vez todos los días y llegas a conocer a fondo; es por eso que leo una cosa u otra solamente cuando me siento lista para recibir a todos esos personajes y entenderlos como merecen.

Ahora estoy leyendo “To Kill a Mockingbird” de Harper Lee. Creo que si leía este libro hace un par de años no hubiese podido entender cuán humana es esta obra, o si lo leía antes de vivir en los Estados Unidos tampoco hubiese comprendido el virulento impacto de los prejuicios y racismo que corren en esta sociedad.

Conforme pasa el tiempo y leo a más autores y obras también conozco mejor mis gustos y escucho más al instinto que me indica por lo que debo ir; ahora que lo pienso, me alegra ver que mis ‘técnicas’ de elección de libros son cada vez más precisas y mis elecciones proporcionalmente más acertadas.

Dear London.

Dear London,

I miss you so much.


Yours, Always.

Magu

Sorry...

Yeah, I know… I’ve been as quiet as a dead man around here but, unless I’ve died and haven’t realized it, I’m still kicking – It’s just that, as usual, I haven’t had time or inspiration to post.

Anyway, here I am.

I started my new job today as a quality control inspections coordinator for a multinational organization with locations in more than 112 countries. The job is fun, better than the one I had before, and the environment in the new place seems to be pretty easygoing (at least at first sight). As they tell me I’ll have to learn all the standards and processes in 1/3 of the regular time as I’ll be replacing a girl who’s leaving for grad school in a month and I’ll be in charge of her accounts as she leaves – but I’m pretty smart, so no biggie.

Hmm… went to Canada this weekend and it was fun. Then, uhm.. went to Andrew and Holly’s yesterday for the Brazil-Australia match followed by BBQ South-African style, and for the Friday to come we have tickets to Seinfeld at the Shea’s Performing Arts Center and we have a bottle of Tequila for the get-together after the show, so that should be fun.

Besides that … well, everything else that’s happened is recorded in my Moleskin and I haven’t had the chance to type anything in here so…

Ah, oh yes… The day after tomorrow is my five years anniversary of moving to the USA.

Yeahee!