Monbiot

I recently came across a Guardian journalist, George Monbiot, which has sort of reminded me what journalism is, or rather should be, all about, provoking and making the audience think, and this is exactly whay he did to me, made me consider (as well as add up to the knowledge I already had) about world population. And now I think, how come I was so damn and had not realized all that on my own! Mobiot challenges current assessments on the blame of population and its relation with climate change. Gives a very eloquent account of how the very rich pollute a lot more than hundreds of the very poor... So increased emissions has actually nothing to do with population, but with each person's carbon footprint. There are millions of people all over the world who virtually produce no emissions, and as Monbiot says, actually offsets them because of the recycling-related activities they undertake such as turning garbage into energy.
There are some studies that claim after a certain income, personal emissions don't raise any further (was it 40,000 dollars?). However, there seems to be a lot of scope for emissions to go up... it'd be like six billion people falling into that catergory, roughly. That's a lot more emissions... it's all about energy... Engergy to light up our houses, and energy to light up our lives and change :-)

Dancing in the Dark

It's the song I am listening right now. It used to have more light, it used to make me feel more lighthearted. Maybe it's because I'm ill that I cannot grasp it to its full extent. So that is what I mean about darkness, a good or a bad thing depending of the situation, so African.

Africa is far, and far in my mind too. Come back to Europe and forget about the sun. Eternally condemned to be free, like Sartre wrote. Freedom like darkness, you just don't really know when it's a good or a bad thing. Or perhaps freedom must be anyway, just that sometimes is harder than others. Don't even remember the last I read a good book. Well, yes, I do. I read the "Little Prince" a couple of days ago. How many times I have read that book? Every time is different. I suppose every time I read it for a reason, so I find in it a different thing. Definetely one of those 10 books everyone should read in their lifetime. Yet not my favourite book, but Love in the Time of Cholera is just a beautiful book with not that much behind it, except the will to live... Will to live, that's what I need right now... Perhaps the road to make this just a tiny bit better. Maybe that's it. I know what I like about here, so I have to improve what's hear, not necessarly change everything.

Places are far, and are near. It depends how well connected you are to them. All afternoons are beautiful. I dreamed I went to London and it was dangerous, and big, and daunting. So I decided I still wanted to go. And this is a good sign. Spoke with people in the street, some Polish, some Spanish, but they all spoke my language. The world is big and it's small, sometimes near, sometimes far, and sometimes so connected that you'd just not believe it. Words are words, but are much more than that. Please! I am a linguist! Words are not just words, words just hide much more... Like Punset writes, words appeared to make communication eassier, but ultimately they were used to guess the thoughts of the other...It is the words that you use, and how you use them that make this a beautiful planet, and make all the necessary connections needed to walk alongside someone else.

What was London like one hundred years ago? Was is better, or was it worse? Or was it just different? Probably just different. So where we are now is all there is to our existence. I dreamed life was short and so there is no space for fear, or delay, or unsaid words. This is what I am and where I am. This is where words took me. And only words will take me somewhere else. Jungleland. Could listen to it a million times and it'd still speak to me, maybe even more than the first time... I am lonely when no words touch me. It's like transmitting sound in space, both objects have to be equal to get a clear sound. The more different they are, the softer is the sound that goes from one another.

Žlutý

Yellow. I'm sort of yellow. Home all day, officially flu, unoficially swine flu. But I know García Márquez would diagnose cholera, undoubtessly. I'm quite surprised what I wrote while I was living in the Czech Republic, and that I did not continue. Last entry on August 2nd, exactly 20 days to go back home. I remember when people went to say goodbye to me to the bus. It felt so lighhearted. To Brno. Airport, then Girona. It was Ryanair and I actually enjoyed the flight, which does not happen very often. Oh, although I remember one of the stewards talking big crap. From Murcia. And then the crew selling Britney Spears perfume, so that was not so cool. So Ryanair is to the aviation industry what Britney Spears perfume is to the perfume industry. Arrived in Girona and bus to Barcelona Sants, and called Carmen, and woho! Id't be in Murcia in 8 hours. I was travelling first class, which is no different from tourist class, except that the trains get empty first and you feel weird. My friends were not waiting for me at the train station, and the party did not go as wild as I had expected it, but they were two very cool weeks, and they made me want to live there like no other week has before or after. Then it was Brussels and that was a completely different story. It was like the Czech Republic but the silence that help me up in Central Europe brought me down in the Belgian capital, because people were not speaking to me with the actions. They were not speaking to me at all.

Brussels was the fourth country I went to live to in 2008, and it was simply too much. Yet another city. Yet another language (languages in this case). Yet more random people. I loved the job though. Worked seven days on my first week and over 45 hours. But I just loved walking around with the camera filming people. And learnt a lot. It was useful learning. Brussels could be nice, especially if you have a nice house, which oh gosh, we didn't. And I loved the waffles. You know you are in a deprived country when your national symbols are chocalate, waffles, beer and a pissing baby (well, that was the symbol of Brussels not Belgium, so Brussels is the deprived capital of a deprived country, and oh well, possibly of a deprived continent). There was some charm to it. But this time I just had no time to those kind of thouhgts.

Amongst all the deprivation there was some space for freedom too. I had people over in my house, went out late (and had fun). Travelled by train visiting friends. Filmed :-) And eventually quit (that was probably the best part of it all) and took the Eurostar to London which was just so thrilling. Brussels was rainy, cold and grey, and London was, hello!, warm, dry and sunny.

Then it was česká podzim. The Czech Republic again. It was all autumn, autumn colours, autumn air, old friends, new laughs, new silence, the good one. After Brussels it really did good to me. Then I went back. And back again. Prague might not be a very beautiful place, but it is a place that somehow treasures me. In autumn, Czechia is yellow. Yellow is the colour of salvation. How many words do you think you need to know when you learn a new language? You need to know the word yellow. Coz in the Czech Republic some trains are yellow and you need to know that. Coz in the Czech Republic trains just wait by the platforms behind building that are behind you and this is very confusing when you just got dropped off a passing train, and they announce departures in Czech, and this is a lot more difficult to learn. But if you know the word yellow, you can actually get to places, on time, when you want, before your feet burst and your patience collapses. I don't know what I would have done without knowing the work yellow. I might not even be here now. But I know it, and that's good. And yellow are all the leaves that fall when you need to see them falling.

I am lonely at home today, with not too many plans in my way. I am just thinking a little on my train trip to Slovakia scheduled for next week.

So as I spend most of my time reading the newspapers, I ended up by chance in the humorist section of the New York Times, and found a couple of jokes I really enjoyed. Here they go.

"Barack Obama says that next month he’s planning on spending a week on vacation in Hawaii. When he heard this, President Bush said, “Pace yourself, because once you become president, the vacations start coming fast and furious."

"And according to the TV show “Extra,” former Vice President Dan Quayle is in the running to join the cast of “Dancing with the Stars.” Quayle was vice president under the first George Bush. See, that was back in the day when the president was smart and the vice president was an idiot."

"Dunkin Donuts has announced new healthier menu options. Healthier food at Dunkin Donuts? Isn’t that like better child care at the Neverland Ranch?"

I managed the last one not to be about Bush. There were a couple of good others but I thought not many people would know about too local affairs. Not that I think that too many people read this blog, so I might as well just post them for my personal amusement.

And this one is the story of Al Gore our saviour. Wait for the closing line. Hilarious.

http://www.theonion.com/content/news/al_gore_places_infant_son_in"

Por ejemplo, los astros azules a lo lejos...

Podría escribir tantas cosas esta noche.
Podría escribir que soñé con África y me perdí en África, tantas veces.
Podría escribir que vi una luz que no había visto nunca.
Podría escribir que tenía que estar allí, que me caí, que me hice daño y me levanté, y no me levanté.
Podría escribir que había agua, y gente, y que el calor del sol tocaba la tierra y la hacía brillar.
Y el silencio de tantas noches estrelladas, boca arriba, boca abajo...
La Cruz del Sur a lo lejos, te miro para saber donde paran mis pies, que no paran en ningún lugar.
Se mueven con el barro, aquí, y a lo lejos.
Soñé que escuchaba música y que alguien me hablaba, y que nunca dejé de oír aquella voz,
que las voces que escuchaba nunca terminaron,
Y se perdieron allá a lo lejos donde viven las estrellas,
allá donde viven todas las voces que alguna vez escuché.

Podría escribir que soñé y nunca desperté,
que todo fue un sueño.
Podría escribir que soñé con un árbol que florece,
soñé que había agua, y no estaba solo,
estaba desnudo bajo la luz del agua que cae y me limpia, y me dice que estoy aquí.
Soñé que habia gente que no me veía, y que la oscuridad lo envolvía todo,
todo menos lo que siento, lo que soy, lo que quiero, lo que deseo.

Soñé que volvía, y cuando volví todo había cambiado.
Mis amigos ya no estaban, porque habían crecido.
Sólo vi las risas de sus hijos, de sus hermanos pequeños, pero todos sabían quién era yo.
Nada había cambiado. Los mismos columpios, el mismo tobogán.
Soñé que quién yo más quería volvía y me cogía de la mano, y nunca se acababa.
Tan cerca,
tan cerca.
Sin nada, solos en la oscuridad
Y le admiro,
no me canso,
todo se mezcla.
Tal vez nunca me fui,
pero nunca lo supe.

Soñé que lo sabía.

Malá Británie nad Díje, 28.07.08

Soñé que encontraba su dirección. Soñé que las cosas no iban bien y que a pesar de mi esfuerzo y el consuelo que me han otorgado otros las consas seguían sin ir bien. Al final del sueño sólo se me ocurre terminar. Irme. Dejarlo. Es una puerta. La puerta que se cierra. La puerta que se ha de cerrar. Porse sé que otras se abrirán, y que aunque no sé que hay detatrás de esas puertas, todo será mejor. Nunca me atreví a cerrar esa puerta. Soñé que mi trabajo aquí no me gustaba, y me quería ir. Soñé que me desesperaba. Soñé que no podía. Soñé que me iba. Y cuando me fui me di cuenta de que esa era la solución.

Hoy estoy aquí, sendato delante del ordenador. Recuerdo muchas cosas. Recuerdo cuando me compraron un tren eléctrico, y recuerdo armar las vías, y poner el tren en marcha. En casa de mis abuelos hace mucho tiempo. Lo recuerdo como algo bueno. Hoy no me voy; hoy me quedo. Silencio. Caballos. Maquinaria descansando. Gatos. Té. Luz. Fuego. Mermelada. Tostadas. Camino. Oscuridad. Silencio. Principio. Sueño.

Sueño que me roban la mochila, aquellos que creí eran mis amihos, mientras tomamos café. Me cambian mi mochila por otra que no era mía, y siento como la traición me hace sudar y temblar, y me hace un nudo en el estómago. No puedo hablar. No digo nada. La traición es peor que cualquier cosa que hubiera en esa mochila. Sueño que busco mi mochila, en otro sueño. Sueño que puedo volar, pero no encuentro el camino hacia el lugar donde creo he perdido la mochila. Mi búsqueda es en vano, y cuánto más busco, más me da la sensación de que me alejo de mi objetivo. Al final del sueño alguien ha encontrado mi mochila, y me la devuelve. La mochila siempre estuvo ahí, porque quien la encuentra no me conoce, no puede llegar a mí.

Hace mucho tiempo no pude cerrar una puerta que me atormentaba, tanto que no me di cuenta, tal vez no lo entendí. Hoy estoy aquí sentado delante del ordenador. Tal vez espero cerrar esa puerta. Tal vez esa puerta ya se cerró. Me siento tranquilo, sin prisa, sin temor. Esa puerta es muchas cosas, cosas que antes no supe entender. ¿Qué podía hacer? Podía correr, gritar, llorar. No me hice nada, me quedé quieto callado. Como si nada hubiera pasado. Intentando creer que todo iba a ser igual, igual de bueno. Pero no iba a ser, y no lo fue. Y yo lo sabía. Cuando todo cambió yo también debí cambiar. Las cosas buenas ta no iban a ser lo mismo, no las iba a encontrar en el mismo lugar. Hoy empiezo a olvidar.

Romeo and Juliet

I have been thinking about my long longing for Madiba. I am not very happy about it. I cannot be. It is not good enough. I don't like the idea of surrender to old heroes. All in all, show must go on. And today after all, it's not a bad day to feel like it. Karadzic has been arrested, hopefully paving the way for a more European Serbia, or at least for a more just Serbia. The US has engaged in talks with Iran and has vowed for a sooner than latter withdrawal from Iraq. Israel and Palestine are the verge of new genuine negotiations. Bush has recently acknowledged the need to tackle climate change globally, and today Ford has announced cuts in the truck, SUVs, and vans industry to focus on production of smaller cars. In Spain, ETA's main standing terrorist base has been dismantled. From Africa, Mugabe and Tsvangirai seem prepared to engage in talks over the future of Zimbabwe.

Not a bad Tuesday I would say. I am at home supposedly being sick. I plain laid. I am not sick physically but in a different way, so I decided not to go to work and my boss was quite happy about it, as he usually is with me, even if he could clearly see I am not sick when he came yesterday to bring me medicines and I was out of bed bare foot and happily smiling. If he had asked me, I would have still said I was ill and he would have to either believe me or question me. He would never question me. Probably because that would involve arguing and he would dare to that. I thought I would rather spend the day reading the news and untiringly listening to Dire Straits instead of sitting in the office correcting lines on a map. I am considering not to go tomorrow, and by default, the rest of the week.

I therefore remain ignorant of Czech worldly affairs, except for the knowledge that the country is one of five which have not ratified the new European Treaty of Lisbon. The others are Ireland whose citizens voted no last month in the only referendum held for this treaty, Poland, who for a no change find any excuse to remain sceptical and hide behind Ireland's no vote, and Finland, where a referendum on the constitution will be held in the Åland Islands (But not in the rest of Finland), mainly due to these island loosing their European Parliamentary as the new treaty shuffles numbers in the chamber. The last one is Germany, where a Bavarian Catholic MP has withheld ratification on the grounds that the treaty goes against the German constitution. The Czech government is similarly holding back as the Constitutional Court may have found a clash between the treaty and the Czech constitution (which obviously some political will could do nothing to solve it).

Despite world wonder, I am still trying to figure out what to do what to do... My time in the office is de facto over. Last week I found every possible excuse to avoid correcting map lines, and ended up begging redemption, a pledge that was responded by giving me translation work. That was better, and sometimes I read the article about Cultural Linguistics I found in Google Search. I find linguistics fascinating, and translation too to some extent. So I prefer translation to map correcting, which is something. I think at the end of July I am supposed to finish maps and do English editing to translations from Czech, highly needed sometimes. I have been granted freedom to remain at home tomorrow too, but I guess I don't want to make my sickness lie last.