27 d’octubre 2008

és tope!

Could not find the group who sings that or the song anywhere, but I have it stuck in mind.
The Halloween weekend was a weekend of pleasing and succumbing to a night out, to forget those things I would have rather done and for which I can't find the company.
Only needed to remind myself I was playing the idiot and it was less of a drag.
They took me to a room where one of the best DJ's there is played. I missed my earplugs. Among the noise I went upstairs and my eyes where wetting when looking at the human mass consuming noise. And me being part of it.

But we went to another room where there was no mass, music wasn't that noisy (at least to my dinosaur ears). Dancing with a music or an environment I am not fond of I started humming the song:

"It's great, it's great to pretend you are an idiot hey! I tell you tell you it's great is great I tell ya it is the max!"

There is a Catalan song that just goes like that, with an ear-fucking beat. I thought it was a genious satire when I first found some group that displayed what I think in such a brief tune, that I wanted to publish and I can't find... Merda
That for a Sunday night.

The following Friday I had a Halloween party. Mingled with a bunch of strangers and felt somehow good. Only I had went too far on my imagination and my idea of scary.
I had no budget but I love dressing up, I love acting. I went on the process at work and came half dressed up to go to the party when getting off, at 23:00.
lots of the guys took pictures of me. Before putting a rubber skirt on, a balck tooth a wig and my paiting my sifilitical scary touch I heard from different sources that I was looking smashing.
One for the records: dramatic make up, exaggerated parfume, glittery top and colors galore on nails, eyes and lips. My idea of a slut in progress... guys found it sleak!
Whether I am wrong on the concept of what a woman should look like or be I had to conclude "guys you like sluts!". They nodded. So they do.

In the end stating that shoes I can't walk on, jewels or parfume don't rock my boat tagged me as weird.
I want to add to: boys and their toys - what I didn't know is that they also like to play with dolls.

21 d’octubre 2008

reflection on good and bad

I once did a donation. What kept me thinking is that I was giving away genetical information and that women are born with a limited amount of eggs, they are predefined by birth. we loose an egg every month and it stops when the predefined number has reached its peak.
Keeping that concept in mind and transmitting it to goodness and evil I woke up today absolutely convinced that there is a limited renovable amount of goodness and evil. The Ying and the Yang.
My thought was that we all have our good and bad sides, and some people are predominantly bad. I want to believe is a minority but it makes me wonder how some of them make it to leading positions. That is scary, good and more capable people are going to yield to them to avoid being bad (or unethical, or unrespectful).
I was wondering why have we got the bad in nature, when we all have been raised to know that we should be good.
I think we are genetically conceived to be born mainly Ying or mainly Yang. That's why you can't imagine a world full of good people.
If there were too high a number of good people, the number would rebalance, by birth or a person would develop his/her mean side when a bad person would leave this world. The inheritance of Yang or its development when the numbers drop.

That for the reflection. I arrived to the conclusion there will always be mean human beings and lots of them will reach a high charge.

I wish it would work like that with happiness. If I have used up so much sadness I must have only a whole bunch of hapiness left, no?
Then... bring it on!

01 d’octubre 2008

Toegh, in memoriam

I have been looking for pictures of her and I finally found this one, when she still was a fatty (well and me in my teenage splendor):

When I first heard of her death I couldn't quite get her out of my head. Some weeks have passed and now, specially after a hard day, when I think of home, her bony figure comes again to my mind ad her helpless face stays in my thoughts until bedtime.

I would probably not think so much about her if I wouldn't have seen her degrading. Once having been quite a chubby cat she turned into skin and bones. Shaky how she walked and sad how she looked.

I took care of her on her last 2 days of life.
The thing that called my attention was her expressiveness. Once a very independent "leave me alone" kind of cat I could see her following me around, just standing there, and looking in despair. She was like a silent figure that would stand a few meters from you. Probably making sure that you would be close if anything happened, scared as she was of all the funny things going inside of her.

I won't get into the ugly details of her slow killing disease. I also have had my reflection on euthanasia, a theme I have thought so much about. I don't know if I would have taken the step myself, it might have to do with the character and I have always thought I can deal with pain, with suffering. I don't like it, but I'd rather decide myself when to stop with it. Having someone else decide for me wouldn't be fair.
So if I ever go on a coma, I wouldn't like to be switched off, I know I would be struggling, I know myself.

That aside, my family is now missing a member.
The news of her loss was as if a link to many memories had became already a ghost. In any occasion at my parent's place she has always been there, any lunch, any get together... She was part, I picture her. It will be strange not to see her again in all those gatherings I always expect her.

We will miss you. I hope you found your rest now.