Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Friday, 18 December 2009
Sunday, 13 December 2009
The tree is up, this year we have tacky 'tienda de 20 duros' lights, they shimmer in every colour possible (purple?) and drive me crazy, and all our decorations are 8 years old and broken, but we make it look great anyways, with an shitload of fake snow which left the house smelling toxic for days. The tree also has candy canes--- well, had. I've stolen around 20, and my sister admitted she has too, so now there's around two left, but not for long. We'll buy more soon. They're the real kind, peppermint, and I love sucking on them until it forms a little step when you remove the plastic further up. Then you make a next step, and a next step, and soon the edge is really sharp and stings your tongue, or breaks and you have to start over.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
by Felipe Alvarez de Toledo
Al despertar en plena noche
en medio de la oscuridad,
inhalas, y no puedes respirar;
Te intentan robar la vida
las láminas de saliva y
de flema que se forjan al tragar,
Y solo te puedes esperar
a que venga El Amanecer,
para enlazar palabras mudas
Y rezar que sepan entender,
trayendo rayos de promesas
a tu voz altiva que no logra gritar.
I shall be pretentious and title this poem 'Amor'.
But it also describes my current feverish and swollen-tonsilled state!
(Extra extra long weekend, I'm taking a sick day tomorrow)
Update: During my sick day, Your photostream 183 items / 3,013 views
Yess!! Flickr reached three thousand.
Wednesday, 2 December 2009
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Monday, 23 November 2009
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
And she could hear the highway breathing,
And she could see a nearby factory.
She's making sure that she's not dreaming.
See the light in the neighbour's house,
Now she's starting to rise,
Take a minute to concentrate,
And she opens up her eyes.
-The Talking Heads , And She Was
Our generation is one that is spoilt and accustomed to getting anything they want without working for it, believing in their rights without earning them. We're a group of people characterised for knowing who we are, and being faithful to ourselves, but if we do not do anything with this gift that we have, are we getting anywhere?
For years now I have been jealous of other generations, because they all had a clear identity. Upon reading the papers a few days ago, I realised our generation is THE generation where finally we can be who we please! Never before has there been this much liberty to follow your heart, at least among members of the same age groups. However, if we don't take this to the next level, we are nothing. We must organise, become a whole and use all our talents (which just become more and more diversified) for the greater good.
What this greater good might be, I'm unsure of. We've been spoonfed all our lives, absorbing family money without knowing the value of a dollar (or euro, or yen, or peso). We must become conscious that we too will take part in the real world, only this way we shall survive. Since material satisfaction is greatest nowadays, we should focus on leading our society away from its evils. Destroy consumerism, once again cultivate unity and altruism, working together and helping each other out, and not being obsessed with money and objects but also directing ourselves to exploring ourselves and others and the spiritual joys of life.
However, a revolution is not just demonstrating. Nowadays, demonstrating only stops traffic and annoys neighbours. We must find new ways of making our voices heard. They need not be violent and they definitely must not be cliché. In fact, a revolution can be started from inside our homes, I bet: you just must speak your point of view and establish connections with those that feel the same, making the group larger and larger. Express it publicly, privately, nobody can stop you.
Students that start demonstrations are just hypocrites, demonstrations do nothing, especially when a sentiment is not heartfelt or for the wrong reasons (read, the people that protested against the Plan Bolonya last year-- pseudo-1968ers who try to avoid hard work).
What is worst about our generation is the conformity and the hypocresy, in the sense that somehow we all think we have ideals (like open-mindedness) and we really don't. I don't really understand why everybody feels that they are all open-minded when they are not. To me, this is the biggest issue, the falsity with which things are done. One must combat the schools that pay no attention to them because they don't do IB (even though they pay the same amount as any IB student), the people patronising enough to make you feel you have a say when you don't, the people who talk a lot but do little, the people who talk a lot but believe little (one can tell when somebody does not know what he's talking about).
You should say what you believe, believe with all your might, but not with blind eyes, and you should put those you believe are wrong into doubt. Also, you have to try to extend your viewpoint and get others to support you and extend it themselves. In turn, this will spawn new ideas for bringing about change, and only this way will we get any progress, and stop living in a hypocrite politically correct society where we let our days fly by for financial and social success. Look for the truth and have everybody around you looking, share ideas and form a global philosophy, and let humanity take that final step towards civilisation. Let us escape consumerism and enter a new era.
Monday, 16 November 2009
Sunday, 15 November 2009
2) Own a bar
3) Become a famous actor who is actually good at what he does, and does photography on the side
4) ...Become a doctor
p.s. readers you suck for nobody reading or at least commenting my complaints about the school.
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
Let me pose various examples:
First, take into consideration the 12th graders and their graduation trip. A small group is set on Ibiza, and just this week a meeting was held without prior notice (well, there was talk about holding a meeting, but no dates) in which we were told the options, of which Ibiza was described as the only one valid because it was the only one they had prepared, giving us ballpark figures of location and price. Although it sounded great, there was a sense of manipulation around the whole ordeal.
Then there is the student council. I have nothing to say about the candidates themselves, our president is probably the most qualified for her post. However, when were we asked who we wanted to represent us (besides the class representatives, whose role is less significant, I suppose, than that of the president)? I have been told that “after middle school, we do not vote for our president”. Does that then not make him a monarch, or a dictator? And when were we asked if we wanted our year’s theme to be sustainability, or whether we wanted the flick the switch campaign to be implemented? (Some of us do like to learn with a source of light).
Then there is the sudden interest the teachers have in bringing Barack Obama to the school, and how we are obliged to write him a letter. This is a person I have nothing to say to, as I know fairly little of his policies (basically, I would say that I thank him for being the first black president- which really does not say anything about his qualifications as president, or inspire me to want him to come to our school in the first place. The only reason I might want him to come is as a mere curiousity, or to use the anecdote as an icebreaker at parties). The letter incident is interesting, and is completely blown out of proportion. Today, the parent of one of my seedlings came up to me and said: “Remember you have to write a letter to Obama.” I nodded, though I have no intention of doing so. I believe that this school, which considers itself so democratic, should stop telling us we’re compelled to do anything. Anything we do, even in the classroom, is out of free will—because we want to pass, because we want to take the path in life that leads to college, because we agree with its base philosophy.
Another example of this is the peace sign photo we were also forced to participate in. I personally went voluntarily, because it could not hurt and there is no need to be unnecessarily uncooperative. However, a friend of mine who wanted to study and also hadn’t the slightest interest in participating, was forced by a teacher to go down and pose in a picture where one person less would not have made a difference. On this note, I have been informed that one of the kids in said photograph actually posed middle finger in the air. To you, I tip my hat (no names will be said, but you know who you are).
The kid who “flipped Obama the bird” is probably what we should be aiming to have in this school society. He probably didn’t do it for the reasons I’d like, but still it is a small demonstration that we can do what we want. It really makes no difference to us if we are forced to do senseless things or not, but what bothers me is the lack of respect towards the student (oh, and the slight hypocrisy). You can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar, I think, and we are the flies that constitute our school. One would think that Obama’s coming would be for our enlightenment and as such we would be allowed to say If we actually cared if he came or not. One would also think that voting for a trip a whole grade participates in once in a lifetime would not be manipulated. One would expect students to have a bigger say in choosing their representatives.
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Saturday, 31 October 2009
Friday, 30 October 2009
Saturday, 24 October 2009
After a long tram ride, he hops off and takes the bus. Then, after a long bus ride, he walks several streets. The hospital is near his house, and he's been to it several times, but he never manages to find it. He ends up somewhere on Floridablanca and now he knows he's too far. A few metres ahead he sees a woman strolling with a Down's Syndrome teen. He walks behind them, and knows he has to ask somebody where Calle Manso is. He accelerates, and when he stops to talk to them he realises they were speaking in English. So he asks:
"Sorry, do you guys know the way to, uhm, Calle Manso?"
The mother responds, "Oh! Well, we're going that way, we can take you. Are you going to the hospital?" A conversation starts. The guy asks "Mom, is he a friend?" His mom responds that he's just an acquaintance, possibly to spare him the embarassment. The boy asks "But what's his name?" His mom tells him to ask him himself, and he does. "Felipe", he responds. "Felipe... Hi, my name's Scott."
Once we got to the hospital I thanked them, and said bye to Scott. I wanted to ask for their phone number, or give them mine, but I was embarassed. Was it right to do so, or would it make me look like a stalker? I don't know, but I didn't, and I honestly regret it. Things like this make me wonder if, on the most unsuspecting of days, there are people up there who lay everything out for you, but leave you to take care of what they have laid out. Many a time things have worked way too perfectly on the strangest of days, those days where you're about to lose hope and don't really expect anything great to happen but embrace them for their normality. I do regret not giving them a phone number, taking Scott out to the movies one day, becoming friends. I do regret it, and if I could go back I would skip out on social conventions and take the risk. I'm hoping that, on another day like yesterday, the stars will align and another small miracle will occur, somewhere.
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Urgencias. Uno entra, imaginandose una larga espera, pero es atendido en cuestion de minutos (es domingo, es temprano, no hay otra explicación). Recibe una pulsera con sus datos, las puntas del adhesivo se le agarran a la piel, sigue las lineas amarillas en el suelo y toma un ascensor negro, subiendo hasta el cuarto piso del abismo para encontrarse en
Traumatología/Otorrinolaringología. Después de hablar con la secretaria, desemboca en otra sala de espera. Las paredes son de baldosas de un marrón feo hasta la mitad, donde sigue con la pared pintada del blanco tradicional, típico de edificios de principios de siglo. Las ventanas son de un vidrio opaco, otorgandole al hospital un aspecto lúgubre poco apropiado para un sitio a donde la gente se viene a curar.
Hay diez sillas, aproximadamente, y en aproximadamente cada una de ellas se encuentran (aproximadamente) diez personas. Lo primero que uno ve son los ojos rojos de un paquistaní que se sujeta la mano fuertemente con un pañuelo. Las tres ancianas del grupo son las más charlatanas, y se dedican a conversar con una joven sentada a un ángulo de noventa grados de ellas que va con el novio. Hay un par de personas más, y estamos yo y mi padre, de pie. Se reconocen los doctores de urgencias, que vuelan por el hospital con sillas y tumbonas que teleportan pacientes ensangrentados y heridos. Pasa uno con el pie enyesado y con una uña bastante decrépita.
El paquistaní (en Barcelona cualquier persona de piel oscura y acento extraño es paquistaní, y dueño de una tienda) está llorando. Intenta explicar algo entre sollozos: aparentemente, se cortó el dedo.
Uf, piensa uno.
-No, no, pero no solo se cortó el dedo...
Dice la vieja sentada a su izquierda. La joven pregunta si se trajo el pedazo de dedo.
El paquistaní explica que estaba con una maquina de embutidos, y que se lo cortó hasta la mitad de la uña.
Traduce la vieja de la izquierda:
-Es que el dedo quedó triturado, no quedó pedazo. Por eso duele más.
Dicen mi nombre, y después de echarme bronca porque lo mío no es urgencia (concuerdo, y culpo a mis padres por haberme llevado-- mi madre insistió después que igualmente una infección me podía perforar el oído) me dicen que vuelva a la sala de espera, porque el doctor tardará ("Y más aún por lo tuyo", me dice la enfermera).
Ahora solo habla la anciana alfa (la que una vez estuvo al lado del paquistaní- él ya no está más, y ha habido un reagrupamiento de asientos, todas las viejas se sientan juntas). Su marido se rompió el pie y se hirió la cabeza porque no quería soltar un vaso cuando se cayó por las escaleras. Ahí caí en que era el de la uña chunga. Anteriormente, la doctora le había estado retando. "Otra vez el vaso? Mejor que se rompa el vaso antes de que se le rompa la cabeza", decía.
La esposa de este hombre también había dicho nosequé sobre algo 'metastasisando', y honestamente espero por lo menos que no hablara de su esposo, justo era lo que le faltaba. Ella había perdido sueño por todo esto la noche pasada.
Ahora llaman a que pase el novio de la joven. A él se le había caido una lampara en la cabeza. Estaba mareado. Eso, en realidad, es peligroso, ya que se le podría formar un hematoma, y este le podría bloquear la sangre a alguna parte del cerebro, causando un derrame. "A mi amiga le pasó", dice una vieja secundaria. "¿Ha sangrado? Mejor que sangre," dice otra.
Han traido, en silla de ruedas, a un hombre que había visto en urgencias. Este se había caido de una bicicleta, era uno de los pacientes softcore, como yo. La verdad es que los pacientes de este hospital tenían todos algo que contar, pero sus historias no me daban pena, ni miedo o asco, sino ganas de escuchar más. Lo que sí impresionaba eran las baldosas aquellas marrones, y la luz turbadora que impregnaba al lugar, que parecía oscurecer más que iluminar.
Pasa una vieja en camilla con una venda ensangrentada en la frente, flotando con uno de los doctores que vuelan por el hospital. Le señalo la hora a mi padre, nos tenemos que ir. Cancelamos el turno y bajamos por unas escaleras metalicas, oscuras, rodeadas de baldosas marrones...
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
-Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire
Monday, 12 October 2009
Wednesday, 7 October 2009
Now, do you think
It would be worth it
To give up your name, your hair, your eyes, your face, just erase yourself, to go from Norma Jeane to Marilyn Monroe?
I haven't thought about this in a long time (seeing as my obsession with becoming a legend is mostly smothered by now), but I don't know. You would live a damned life, but it would be beautiful. And who cares about how you feel, you don't live forever! But the memory of you does, and that would be one of perfection. Yet again, people wouldn't remember you, they'd just remember that image (although that will happen even with your true persona, but the image you're remembered by each person will be more like your true self).
Ah, the beautiful and the damned.
Monday, 5 October 2009
everything I love gets lost in drawers.
I want to start over, I want to be winning,
way out of sync from the beginning...
Oh, I just did so bad in calculus, leaving half an exam blank, and not quite getting nice results in anything else. I'm so stressed... and confuseed (dazed and confused).
And not only because of academics.
(I do apologise for the moodiness of late posts, many of you know why it is. If you don't, tough love. Oh, and my summer pictures are developed, but I cannot scan them. I'm really looking forward to doing so, though).
I wanna hurry home to you,
put on a slow, dumb show for you,
and crack you up.
So you can put a blue ribbon on my brain,
God I’m very, very frightening
I’ll overdo it...
-The National, Slow Show
Sunday, 4 October 2009
Wednesday, 30 September 2009
Days are double their past length,
The road trip’s incomplete.
The hourglass has a leak,
My memory is weak,
The mind is losing strength,
And way back then is merely
In rearview mirrors, reflections bleak.
I reckon that I should probably have been studying instead of writing this, but days are long and I just need a break... One last test to go....
I decided to write a poem, but it's strange that you always return to the same dark place, that you sort of think you feel was done with but know isn't, quite, not all the time. There's just places you can save yourself the visit to, or have to to keep on going.
(Oh, and the poem-- maybe not my best-- actually looks like a sandclock when you centre it, i thought that was cool) (although tacky).
Update: I centred it anyway.
Tuesday, 29 September 2009
Medicine is, to tell the truth, only a recent dream for me. After 17 years of wandering the globe, as I was born in Egypt to diplomat parents and proceeded to live in Argentina (my father’s homeland), Syria, Argentina again and finally Spain (my mother’s homeland), I finally opted for this course. I cannot state precisely how it happened.
My sciences always have been strong, but the arts always did seem to interest me more. I’ve always been an apt artist, and though lately I don’t have the time to draw or paint I do still show an interest for film photography. I’ve also always been an avid reader of classics and try to write on occasion. My mother has always feared that I would pursue something within those parameters, possibly film.
Yet I also have always been a top student in Biology, Chemistry and Physics, though I might say that the last interests me the least. In Biology, however, I did attend the National Olympics in Rio Cuarto, Cordoba, and my team ended up eighth place. The following year I was requested for a second participation, but could not go due to scholastic and family issues. This time the team arrived at first place. The experience of travelling there one year and preparing to do so the next, however, were wonderful and helped me grow as a person.
I consider Argentina the point in my life where I transitioned from a spoiled child who had lived among the wealthiest Syrian children to a better-rounded individual, a time where I developed my cultural and emotional knowledge. It was at this time when I took an interest in old movies, and when my scientific base was established. It was a time of excess hormones, a time of extreme poles that had to be resolved in order to get to what I now am. However, it was also a time in which I thought it was pretty clear I would not be choosing any career related to the sciences.
Then I moved to Barcelona. It always had been a childhood dream to live in Spain, my mother’s homeland, in which we spent all our summers (though, I must say, in the south). I did not want to move. Leaving Argentina was the final step in becoming who I know am, the future Med-student.
I guess the change is too recent to analyse just yet. Maybe someday I shall realise what the precise instant was, but for sure one of the factors had to do with me realising the humanitarian aspect of science is, and I do think it is found in the art of medicine. I would like to thank my best friend Maria, as I believe it was through her that I found this. She has dreamt of being a pediatrician all her life, and seeing the passion in her and her determination to reach her dreams definitely were an inspiration to me, to say the least, and also did help me see the human side of medicine I once did not.
Certainly one of my strengths is dealing with and understanding people, and though I do this in a unique way and do sometimes need some space to understand myself, through medicine and in University in the UK I will be able to establish bonds with various people and help them out through their rough times, as they will help me learn also, be it friends, professors, or future patients and co-workers.
It is strange that through the writing of this essay (and though this sounds cliché, I promise I intend nothing of the sort) I have actually found the reason why I want to go through the long process of studying and practise to one day become a doctor. After all these years (and paragraphs) of arts, sciences, family, friends, and finding oneself, I have realised that life is my passion, and that through medicine I know I can find the perfect way to channel my energy into helping others and becoming a better professional myself. Though I will not give up my other passions, or live with one hand tied behind my back, I shall take this path to find happiness, somewhere.
Note: The first page was intended as a stupid joke I wasn’t even gonna print out, but I think I’ll send it in too... Just to show that learning can come anytime, anyplace.
Monday, 28 September 2009
Saturday, 26 September 2009
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
Haha, just kidding.
Tomorrow is the eve before la Mercè, Barcelona's patron saint's day ( if that made any sense), which is a school holiday. Clearly, this ensues a party. So, with an asian dinner and the traditional forum reunion at hand, and with the whole senior class attending as a group, will things get interesting? Let's hope so.
I'm sorry I'm a little late,
I got your message, by the way.
I'm calling in sick today,
So let's go out, for old time's sake...
- The Noisettes, Never Forget You
Thursday, 17 September 2009
Monday, 14 September 2009
37 minutes ago · Comment · Like / Unlike
You and Cecilia Winter like this.
Erica Moore: YAYY!!
same here im like ahhh hahaha
28 minutes ago
Helena Martinez: gossip girl? what channel? the cw?
28 minutes ago
Felipe Alvarez De Toledo: hahaahha
24 minutes ago · Delete
Maria Bernaus: yes at 9. who are you helena martinez?
13 minutes ago
Felipe Alvarez De Toledo: it is I, in my alter-ego form.
8 minutes ago · Delete
Felipe Alvarez De Toledo: (please note i'm kidding)
8 minutes ago · Delete
Helena Martinez: eings? who is who? I'm lost. I don't know u, at least as far as I know, I was just wondering after seeing your status
5 minutes ago
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Thursday, 10 September 2009
On monday I start.
So now, I've just left behind 1 year of intense work that had so far worked out great, and I'd gotten really good scores on my IB assessments. Yet I chickened out before the end. Is this something I shall be doing all my life?
On the other hand, I didn't really have much of a choice. I was faced with going on with IB, finishing the knowledge I was acquiring through my classes with the teachers I loved, or giving up the dream of doing Medicine. (You see, the IB conversion to Spanish grades is shit, and there is no way possible I'd have gotten into the course with IB, seeing as a 40, a high grade, translates to an 8.6 or less, and also I just couldn't keep up with the extra work I had to do plus the IB assignments). So do I really face no-choice situations in life and just feel guilty about something I had no say in? I just feel that it's always the same cycle, and I've never stopped it. I shall always continue to be afraid of commitment and carrying things out and actually saying (or explicitly feeling) 'I miss you' or 'I will miss you' or 'You're an amazing friend'.
It feels like on that topic I just steer away from emotion and normally face people completely cold-- well, let me clarify. I like listening to people, I like getting to understand them and I think I do this with a variety of people and not for any social motives, but just because I can. On the other hand, I do this without getting attached to them, or most of them, and just see it as a normal moment. When I do get attached to someone, I either fail to realise until it's too late or I fail to say it, no matter how much I try. I want to get out of that fear but so far have not been able to.
As for IB, I guess I really didn't have a choice. There's tons of things I want to do in life, and Medicine is one of them, and it brings me stability and the strength to move on (as one can see with my IB grades). But then why don't I feel satisfied with this answer? Mother's probably right, yet will this spiral ever end?
On the other hand, I can view Medicine as the big picture that I haven't given up on or left behind, and I am looking forward to the lifestyle of selectividad. But I'm still pretty uneasy...
Tuesday, 8 September 2009
I'm kind of shell-shocked here. But I've known this for a long time, and I couldn't keep up with the strenuous pace of the IB and try to prepare myself for medicine and all it required that my choice in the IB didn't offer. I suppose I'm making the right decision. (And if I'm not?)
I'm going to miss Math Standard, with Ms. Rowland's stories, which are going to be replaced by Ms. Puyuelo (however one spells that) and her voice.
Should I indeed change? Oh wow, this is just bizarre.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
Monday, 31 August 2009
Tuesday, 25 August 2009
The Velvet Underground, Heroin
Mmmgh I have to schedule 3 Extended Essay workdays before summer's over... No se, let me calculate. Tomorrow I have to do Chem, then on Thursday I have Chem class. Don't tell me it has to be Friday. Okay, so one on Friday, then Sunday and Monday? Sounds good. I could actually have fun, writing, eating chocolate and secretly entering facebook in my pajamas. Well, boxers and shirt. Ah, but I have gym before that! Well, I'll just strip off my pants.
Also, I'm taking a few pictures each time I go out this summer! Documenting the last few days of freedom. Doing so with my new lomo fisheye and my Olympus. Shall get them developed as soon as school starts. Could be fun :)
Friday, 21 August 2009
Ladies and gentlemen, I am officially an adult.
* Ignacio actually went out and bought me a present: a hammer that makes noise when you bonk it. Haha, I do think, however, that it's what he thought I'd enjoy the most, because he was so enthusiastic about giving me his present. I love him.
Wednesday, 19 August 2009
by Felipe Alvarez de Toledo
Selling sea shells
By the seashore
As tranquil as it seemed?
As tranquil as it seemed,
The waves roared on.
Staring into space.
The waves roared on,
Near the seashore.
Staring into space,
Selling sea shells.
I wrote this poem a year ago, and it resurfaced on my old (and abandoned) livejournal page. I actually miss writing on that. Dedicated to what was supposed to be my 100th post, but for some reason it looks like it's the 100 and first. Well, congratulations to my blog and thanks for everybody that reads it. No videos for a while because the computer broke (this means I can't finish my Extended Essay, either-- well, it means it will be thrice the work to finish it).
In other news, two Days until my birthday. Cannot wait, and my siblings still have not bought me presents. I think I'm going out to dinner with the family. Also, Flickr has surpassed 2,000 views. Now it's on the 2028th (see, I was saving this statistic for my 100th post...).
Have a few great final weeks of summer, everybody.
Monday, 17 August 2009
So yes. Let me start anywhere. Yesterday I talked to my English tutor from when I was in Argentina. Well, we chatted on msn is more correct, I reckon. She's in LA now, married to a 'bonaerense'. I'm actually really glad I talked to her, I didn't realise how much she's affected me and my life. You see, she was not only a tutor but also a friend. Her name's Tanisia, raised in LA (she went to school with one of the girls from full house! Jodie Sweetin, I believe?) and she's also lived in NY, and lived in Barcelona before I moved here. She told me how great this city was before I experienced it. But yes, she saw me grow up a lot in Argentina, and was always good to talk to. Yesterday it was the same. She listened to me on my doubts about being a doctor and just encouraged me to try it out, but she warned me that she took the same path and turned back. According to her an "artistic and adventurous mind" doesn't always want to give up the many dreams and options one has to live and breathe medicine.
She's truly great. It was really good to hear from her after so long. Also, my dad lets me have a tattoo, (I asked in a "...dilatory manner, as all children do, regarding every subject under the sun." -Camera Laye, The Dark Child) (I just quoted my summer reading). I started by mentioning K2, and he asked what she was getting and where. So I responded, and asked if he liked tattoos. He said "as long as they're discreet". Then I went straight to the point.
As for my intellectual growth, this summer I've seen a lot of movies, and read a lot of books, let's see if I can list a few. Well, just yesterday, or the day before that, I finished watching La Dolce Vita, movie that I started a year ago. In July I watched Life of Brian and Brokeback Mountain. I liked them both. I saw Schindler's List also, I caught it on TV. And, finally, I have to finish watching Giant (movie I also started watching a year ago) and Apocalypse now, which have been lent to me. And as for books, I finished off Wuthering Heights in France, and it is one of my personal favourites. Then on the bus back to Barcelona I got done with The Dark Child (quoted previously), and liked it quite a bit. This was a Summer Reading for English class. Another SR I had was Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley, for TOK. I selected that myself, since we were allowed to choose. I really liked the book so as always, I chose well, but I fear any first-day-of-school surprise essays on the reading. I don't think I have analysed it sufficiently for that. Now I'm rereading The Old Man and the Sea and was eyeing a few poems by Antonio Machado, a Spanish poet.
Also, it looks like John Hughes died. This makes me sad. Bueno I really don't know what else to say. I was hoping this post would turn into a philosophical debate with myself, Socratic dialogue style, but it didn't. I'll save that for another day, and get my headache out of the way with some venting. However, it was nice making a list of the stuff I've done (I've also gone to France, and the beach a couple of times) and flaunting it a bit.
I love summer.
Saturday, 15 August 2009
This is my idea for a tattoo (I believe Sophie had it first, though...) (and ignore the writing, I was just listening to a good song). To me the tattoo symbolises being forgotten and left behind, and wanting to rewind... Anyway, opinions? I was gonna get it parallel to my left clavicle, but apparently Sophie's is on her right.
Friday, 14 August 2009
de pie junto a su lecho, la enlutada,
la dama de sus calles, fugitiva,
la imposible al amor y siempre amada.
Díjole Abel: Señora,
por ansia de tu cara descubierta,
he pensado vivir hacia la aurora
hasta sentir mi sangre casi yerta.
Hoy sé que no eres tú quien yo creia:
mas te quiero mirar y agradecerte
lo mucho que me hiciste compañia
con tu frío desdén.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Quiso la muerte
sonreír a Martín, y no sabía.
-Antonio Machado, de 'Muerte de Abel Martín'.
Monday, 10 August 2009
Thursday, 6 August 2009
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
(I might even get to items 4 and 5 on my list.)
In other news, I've been having violent dreams with certain people, which is horrible but are only a projection of my own feelings onto somebody else. Feeling kinda insecure about certain aspects of things, and I am being purposefully vague .
I have a feeling more people read my blog than I'd want to, though I'm flattered if you do.
Da dee da... Other than that, I'm great. Loving summer, the heat freezes everything.
Tuesday, 4 August 2009
Monday, 3 August 2009
Sunday, 2 August 2009
Comments unnecessary on this one.
Thursday, 30 July 2009
Thursday, 23 July 2009
B: Ah hey ------, what's up?
A: Nothing, I was just calling to wish you good luck tomorrow-
B: Haha thank you, I'm gonna need it.
A: You scared?
B: Yeah, a lot.
A: Bueno, don't worry... In any case you still have me, if you need me you can- send me a mail or something. And no se, it might be hard at the beginning but in the end it will work out.
B: Yeah, but I guess that's how it has to be.
A: Yeah, I don't know. Uhm... Well that's it... No se, good luck. Uhm, bye
No se, I probably shouldn't have hung up, and asked you to speak. Or maybe tried to reassure you more? Told you everything you mean to me. But oh well, I didn't quite know what to do... At least I hope you understand that I tried to call because I care, in my special way. (I do hope you don't read my blog.)
A few hours now, goodbye.
One, Two, Three, Four
Tell me that you love me more.
Sleepless long nights,
That is what my youth was for.
Monday, 20 July 2009
- Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
Sunday, 19 July 2009
Check my previous post to see what my trip was about.
I hop on the car, we drive all the way from Barcelona to La Charite sur Loire, on the Loire River in France, where some family friends have a Chateau (amazing house, 14 rooms).
We go biking. An hour into the ride, and on the furthest point on our itinerary, it downpours. The rain stops just when we get back to the house. I was wearing new clothes. Still, it was lots of fun.
We go across the countryside looking for castles with the family friend, an archaeologist. In the afternoon we go to a village which has (had) a castle. It was demolished in the 16th century, because of a siege.
We go biking again (tempt the devil). It does not rain, and we go very far. We see the line of channels that goes through all of france, for transport. Also, one must say that the landscape is gorgeous.
We go canoeing. Very calm, until at the end there were rapids. My two brothers and I were in the same boat, and it tipped over. My little brother was okay, though very scared. However, my mom was even more scared, and kindof wanting to leave.
Off to Paris we go. 2 hour trip, I play pokemon in the car, time flies. We visit the Eiffel Tower in the afternoon, only Juan and I go up (and we went up all the way).
The Louvre. I believe I'm getting my dates mixed up, but we also had lunch in the Champs Elisees. No, I lie. That was on the same day as the Eiffel Tower. After the Louvre my parents notice a strange bump on my baby brother's back, and go out to the hospital, so I tour alone with my other siblings. We see the Notre Dame (me and my sister, for my brother and I had an argument and he disappeared. Sucks to him, because I had the keys). The bump was nothing to worry about.
We visit les invalides, where Napoleon is buried. Then my parents go to the Picasso Museum, but I rest this one out, watching Desperate Housewives/Grey's Anatomy at home. I missed those shows.
We visit the Musee D'Orsay, which holds the greatest collection of impressionist works of art in the world. I thought of Ami. In the afternoon, we visit Versailles. At night we meet up with our friends from la Charite and I take a walk with my sister and their daughter. Then, we go have dinner in front of the Notre Dame (after hours of searching for a restaurant in our neighbourhood, the Mareill or Marais, I don't quite know). It was that pizza place that's also on Ramblas, Pizza Marzano. Their pizza is amazing.
Car trip all the way down to Navarra, Spain. We get there at 11:30, and it turns out we got the reservation day wrong, and were one day ahead. Nevertheless, the owner gave us no problems in lodging there.
I spend the day in Navarra, my grandparents arrive for lunch with some cousins, and more cousins arrive for dinner.
I take a walk with my Dutch cousin Julia, my brother Juan and my grandmother. The countryside is really nice here too (and the weather). At four I grab the bus from Pamplona to BCN. I arrive at a quarter to 11.
Note: This is a very rough sketch of my travels, because I'm not sure of the exact dates of some things. Also, I left out that we went to Montmartre, the bohemian neighbourhood, where we saw the Sacre Coeur and went down to the Moulin Rouge, which still holds functions. So we decided to have a family dinner watching boobs at a cabaret (no).
Sunday, 5 July 2009
We would have such a very good time, such a fine time,
Such a happy time.
And I remember how we'd play simply waste the day away,
Then we'd say nothing would come between us,
- Madness, Our House
Tomorrow I head off to France. In the end, the barbeque was on Saturday, so I spent the day with Jamie and then we headed off to celebrate the 4th of July. Then on Sunday Jamie came over again, and we watched one final futurama, heading off to starbucks as a last goodbye. I've been watching 'How I Met Your Mother', and it is the best show I've seen in a long time. I'm in love with the characters, they're all so human. Bueno best of luck to everyone for 10 days, I shall be seeing you all afterwards.
Ah, and I bought Maria J. a really cool birthday present, I do hope she enjoys it (though I'd love to keep it).
See you all soon, I hope I grab hold of the interweb on my trip, so I can keep in touch.
Friday, 3 July 2009
After those days in the country house, we shall hit Paris, the city of lights. Apparently our apartment is in a really good neighbourhood, so I expect a lot of walks and a lot of good photos. Sad thing is it's gonna be hot, for some reason I imagine Paris windy with autumn leaves.
Then on the 16th I take the car back to Navarra with my parents, and immediately (in theory) depart, by bus, back to Barcelona to study and wish some friends farewell.
Anyways, I do hope to be posting soon, and I have high hopes for these next two weeks... Starting... now.
Playlist: Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa - Vampire Weekend.
(I don't normally put playlists- I normally find them pretencious- but I'm loving that song.)
Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Thursday, 25 June 2009
- Bette Davis, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane
Post dedicated to Michael Jackson, RIP June 25, 2009.
I'm starting with the man in the mirror / I'm asking him to change his ways / And no message could have been any clearer / If you wanna make the world a better place (If you wanna make the world a better place) / Take a look at yourself, and then make a change (Take a look at yourself, and then make a change)
Update: Possibly only in a coma? We shall find out tomorrow.
Monday, 22 June 2009
Well, I was going to include a video but if it doesn't show, look it up: it's called 'SIGNS' and can be found on youtube. It lasts 12 minutes but is really worth the watch, I believe.
In other news, I wish a belated happy birthday to my now six-year-old brother, I took him to the pigeons in Plaça Catalunya yesterday and we ran around a lot (he wanted to push them all into the fountain). He's the best gift a guy can have, I really love him a lot. Videos of us chasing pigeons will soon be posted.
And I watched 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' with Maria (sibling). Not the manliest movie but enjoyable haha laughed a couple of times. And I've been singing the entire score for a couple of days already, it's pretty catchy.
Also, tomorrow verbena de San Juan in Castelldefells, that will be quite something I hope. At the beach.
Summer's still pretty sweet :)
Update: And the video does show. This is a pretty complete blog post, all missing is some music :)
Update 2: I admit to having watched 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' again on my own. Summer days are long.
Friday, 19 June 2009
This year was at least useful for learning a lot of things, about people, about myself, about the world, and getting to know lots of people, suffering through IB and coming out alive with pretty high grades.
And now it seems like the Summer will be really good, even if I have to say goodbye to people. If they read my blog (ejem, keep posting), they should know that I'd rather spend my time to the max with them and then cry more once they are gone. The only reason I'd be crying more is because they made me that much happier.
I don't know if I will cry though, I have to say I haven't so far for quite some time (not even when I left Argentina...). In any case, I have to say that when these people start leaving it will not be fully sad but also somewhat happy, it is the closure of a great chapter in my life that someday could continue.
These people are leaving (some might not technically be going too
Marco - he already left... Bueno I've already seen him for the last
K2 (STAY in uni here, I know you read this! hahahaha :) )
Claudia Baulies (el gran incógnito, is she really?)
I know there are more but the names aren't coming up and these are the people I am closest to. (If I've forgotten somebody I'm close to I can always edit and nobody shall know of my irresponsibility... muahaha.)
I shall end this post with a quote that I've probably used many a time before on this blog, and that K2 is familiar with (among other things, she used it as her yearbook quote). It's from 'On the Road', by Jack Kerouac...
"But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after the people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centrelight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!' "
*As a fucking surprise, I had no idea he was leaving today.
Wednesday, 17 June 2009
Sunday, 14 June 2009
Eras la boina gris y el corazón en calma.
En tus ojos peleaban las llamas del crepúsculo.
Y las hojas caían en el agua de tu alma.
Apegada a mis brazos como una enredadera,
Las hojas recogían tu voz lenta y en calma.
Hoguera de estupor en que mi ser ardía.
Dulce jacinto azul torcido sobre mi alma.
Siento viajar tus ojos y es distante el otoño:
boina gris, voz de pájaro y corazón de casa
hacia donde emigraban mis profundos anhelos
y caían mis besos alegres como brasas.
Cielo desde un navío. Campo desde los cerros.
Tu recuerdo es de luz, de humo de estanque en calma!
Más allá de tus ojos ardían los crepúsculos.
Hojas secas de otoño giraban en tu alma.
- Pablo Neruda, 20 Poemas de amor y una canción desesperada
Saturday, 13 June 2009
I did pretty well on all the ones I studied for, proving that studying is actually useful. However, it did stress me out a lot (you should have seen me the night before maths) so I don't think it's worth becoming an A student. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure I'll be studying next final week also (for midterms) because I need the grades to get into medicine. I am not going to allow myself to become a stress-driven maniac who only strives to compete, though.
It is 12:00 and it feels like 9:00. This is because I have been sleeping all day. And that is because I had a nice end-of-the-year party last night. Very worth it.
And now I am "babysitting". For some reason, though my mom asked me to stay, my dad stayed also. Making my stay kindof useless.
It feels really unnatural to be writing in English, eh.
SCHOOL'S (nearly) OUT FOR SUMMER.
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
Note: Gonna be busy these two weeks, so probably no posts. Final exams and IB stuff. However, afterwards my blog will be a party (I might even whore it out).
Bueno best wishes to all.
I'm in love with Gia Carangi...
(Just because I saw Ale's blog).
And also Molly Ringwald.
And Adriana Lima
And this lady in an advertisement.
Haha, excess hormones...
Monday, 4 May 2009
Wednesday, 29 April 2009
Saturday, 25 April 2009
Thursday, 23 April 2009
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
He greets it with a firm reply.
Death asks him of his life:
"Do you want to die?"
He gives the usual response,
There will be other rides,
But on your drives into Death,
It is still good to know
That you are always in the backseat
Watching over my shoulder, by my side.
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
And could not speak,
Sidelong, full on my cheek,
What should that reckless zephyr fling
But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing!
I found that wing broken to-day!
For thou are dead, I said,
And the strange birds say.
I found it with the withered leaves
Under the eaves.
-Robert Frost, My Butterfly
Wednesday, 4 March 2009
The major put his arm around Hilde.
"Do you hear the mysterious play of the waves?"
"Yes. We must get the boat in the water tomorrow."
"But do you hear the strange whispering of the wind? Look how the aspen leaves are trembling."
"The planet is alive, you know..."
"You wrote that there was something between the lines."
"Perhaps there is something between the lines in this garden too."
"Nature is full of enigmas. But we are talking about stars in the sky."
"Soon there will be stars on the water."
"That's right. That's what you used to say about phosphorescence when you were little. And in a sense you were right. Phosphorescence and all other organisms are made of elements that were once blended together in a star."
"Yes, we too are stardust."
"That was beautifully put."
"Spirit can pass through steel doors. No tanks or bombers can crush anything that is of spirit."
-All from Sophie's World.
Tuesday, 24 February 2009
Friday, 20 February 2009
So she was considering, in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.