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Turn off the tv and read a book

8 Aug

Yesterday i saw something on tv that socked me and made me wonder how will the future be when the teenagers of today become the adults of tomorrow.

This tv reporter was on the street, asking foreigners that were in the process to get the spanish nationality questions about Spain concerning history, culture, artists…ecc. They replied correctly most questions.

But, when she asked some spanish teenagers…the result was scary. Not only they didn’t know how many communities we have but, when asked about our civil war they replied stuff like:

– What war?

– Oh yes, civil war was between Spain and France (ermmm what part of CIVIL war you don’t understand?)

Then they thought 12th October was the anniversary of a football match between Spain and Malta, and that is why it is a National Holiday: because we won.

Not to mention i am sure most of them don’t even write spanish properly…how are they suppossed to learn another language?

Suddenly i felt embarrassed and, at the same time, very sorry for them. I do love internet and computers, and i do watch tv sometimes too, but i also enjoy reading a good book, watching a film, reading a newspaper to know what’s going on in the rest of the world…

And in other countries it’s not much better i believe. Still remember when some guy from Canada told me Barcelona is the capital of Spain, and many north americans think Spain is next to Mexico…

I am thankful for the education i received, both at school and from my parents. Even the television was better!!!

Hoping i am dead before those idiotized teenagers get to rule the world, i’ll leave you with a tribute to the tv show that trained my imagination when i was a kid. They said stuff like. turn off the tv and read a book. Those were the days when tv taught kids useful stuff, opened their imagination and their minds…

And yes, i’ll post some new fashion pics tomorrow.

Burning bridges

12 May

The hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn. (David Russell)

It is weird how in just a second, with just a sms, things can change so quick, so bad, and so with no chance of ever being the same.
We usually tend to trust the people we love, and we give anything that’s in our hands to help that person, always looking for what we think it’s best for them. The thing is, this doesn’t necessarily match what they want for themselves.
So, if you see a person you love that’s about to sink in quicksands…but she refuses to hold your hand and get out of there…what can you do?
And, if while trying to help that person, she threatens you hitting you with a branch or throwing stones at you?
Should you just stand there watching her sink or hit her head and force her to get outof there?

I don’t know if i made the right choice, but i chose to wait and hope she opens her eyes and sees for herself the way out of there. And, once she makes the decission, i will for sure be there.

For now, i am burning bridges to protect myself, hoping we can build a new one someday.

The Happy Prince

29 Apr

In a day when millions of people are watching the Royal Wedding (me included) i wanted to share with you the story of a different Prince, my favourite prince of all time.

This is the story of the Happy Prince, by Oscar Wilde:

High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
He was very much admired indeed. “He is as beautiful as a weathercock,” remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; “only not quite so useful,” he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.
“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.”
“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
“He looks just like an angel,” said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.
“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen one.”
“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
“Shall I love you?” said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the other Swallows; “she has no money, and far too many relations”; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.
After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady- love. “She has no conversation,” he said, “and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.” And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. “I admit that she is domestic,” he continued, “but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.”
“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
“You have been trifling with me,” he cried. “I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!” and he flew away.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. “Where shall I put up?” he said; “I hope the town has made preparations.”
Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
“I will put up there,” he cried; “it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air.” So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he cried; “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.”
Then another drop fell.
“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said; “I must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he determined to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw – Ah! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
“Who are you?” he said.
“I am the Happy Prince.”
“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow; “you have quite drenched me.”
“When I was alive and had a human heart,” answered the statue, “I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans- Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep.”
“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical voice, “far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion- flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of- honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.”
“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow. “My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus- flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.”
“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow. “Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.”
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. “It is very cold here,” he said; “but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.”
“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. “How wonderful the stars are,” he said to her, “and how wonderful is the power of love!”
“I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,” she answered; “I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.”
He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. “How cool I feel,” said the boy, “I must be getting better”; and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. “It is curious,” he remarked, “but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.”
“That is because you have done a good action,” said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. “What a remarkable phenomenon,” said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. “A swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. “Have you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried; “I am just starting.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”
“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow. “To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.”
“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. “Shall I take him another ruby?”
“Alas! I have no ruby now,” said the Prince; “my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.”
“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that”; and he began to weep.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried; “this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,” and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up. “I am going to Egypt”! cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
“I am come to bid you good-bye,” he cried.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”
“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.”
“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.”
“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”
So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. “What a lovely bit of glass,” cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are blind now,” he said, “so I will stay with you always.”
“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.”
“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. “How hungry we are!” they said. “You must not lie here,” shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.”
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. “We have bread now!” they cried.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. “Good-bye, dear Prince!” he murmured, “will you let me kiss your hand?”
“I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.”
“It is not to Egypt that I am going,” said the Swallow. “I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?”
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: “Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!” he said.
“How shabby indeed!” cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.
“The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,” said the Mayor in fact, “he is litttle beter than a beggar!”
“Little better than a beggar,” said the Town Councillors.
“And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!” continued the Mayor. “We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.” And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. “As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,” said the Art Professor at the University.
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. “We must have another statue, of course,” he said, “and it shall be a statue of myself.”
“Of myself,” said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.
“What a strange thing!” said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. “This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.” So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
“Bring me the two most precious things in the city,” said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
“You have rightly chosen,” said God, “for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.”

The Über Nerd & The Pussy in Boots: A Bizarre Love Story

4 Apr

Über Nerd: The ultimate in nerdisity; nerdus maximus. A nerd that other nerds look upon as a God amongst their species. This nerd is often assembled from parts of lesser nerds.
Pussy in Boots: French literary fairy tale about a cat who uses trickery and deceit to gain power, wealth, and the hand of a princess in marriage for his penniless and low-born master. The tale was written at the close of the seventeenth century by Charles Perrault (1628–1703).
FemDom: Female Domination (this one was easy, huh?)

Put together these three and you’ll get the most bizarre love story ever!!

I was wandering around, shopping and looking for new stuff to wear in my crazy events and also more casual stuff. Not sure how i ended in a place called “Dominion FemDom”. I was standing there with my shiny new red boots, trying to choose from different outfits, making myself that question. do i really need this? Suddenly i heard a low, nasal and kinda weird voice saying:

Like two foci of an elliptical
Your eyes entice me
Cause my cardiac muscles
To palpitate
As I estimate the distance
Between us
I’ve arrived
At the conclusion
That you’re sitting
Approximately 5 feet and 23 centimeters
Away from me
7 and one half millimeters closer
Than yesterday
As you sit there
And I calculate your potential energy
I find myself wishing
That I could change
Y= mx + b
Into y = Unext2me
You are my complementary angle
I long to whisper
That Newton’s laws
Were created just for you
Of course that’s not true
But logic doesn’t matter anymore
Because my feelings for you are growing exponentially
Like radiation, you penetrate through my skin
You watched my veins branch like fractals
While I reached for the pencil that you dropped
You listened to the logarithm my heart produced
At a near inaudible frequency
As I returned the pencil
To it’s rightful owner
Like absolute zero
All molecules within me halted
In that moment
Your centripetal force sent me spinning
And though they say opposites attract
You didn’t even utter a thank you
It figures
Seeing as the probability of you noticing me
Is exactly .41 in 10,731
But I long
To cosine my name on a love note
Addressed to you
You are the Pascal behind my triangle
And you can count on the fact
that I’ll calc-u-later

(poem by gogetenks8)

I had to turn my back and found this guy with weird looks, pens in his shirt pocket, awful glasses, a face full of spots and a mark from his iron on the back of the shirt.

– Who are you?
– I am an über nerd, and i want to be pwned by you.
– Pwned?, i asked.
– Yes, Ma’am.

So he gave me the leash to guide his collar and we were exploring around that FemDom place. At first i felt a bit weird, i believe in the free will and wasn’t sure if this whole domination thing was my cup of tea.

After a while i have to admit it was big fun!!!Poor nerdy having to follow me all around the place, forced to shop til i drop…mwahahahaha!!!We even made friends with some other Mistresses and their subs and, after some convo about Anton Aus Tirol , he wanted to go home.

As soon as we got home, he started to feel poorly, “maybe something i ate” he said…Then he ripped his clothes, screamed like an animal and…i couldn’t believe my eyes!!!

So now i have the biggest and strongest sub in the whole Second Life grid!!!

The Scorpion and the Frog

31 Mar

As some of you may know, i’ve always loved fables and short stories. It’s great how a very very short story can teach so much with just a few words.
In this occassion, Aesop’s “The Scorpion and the Frog” goes perfect with what happened the other day in Second Life, that scarily reminds me of one of my Real Life best friends.

The Scorpion and the Frog


(image courtesy of luna1316)

A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, “How do I know you won’t sting me?” The scorpion says, “Because if I do, I will die too.”

The frog is satisfied, and they set out, but in midstream,the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown,but has just enough time to gasp “Why?”

Replies the scorpion: “Its my nature…”

Sometimes frogs are attracted to scorpions. Scorpions are strong, shiny, dangerous…that kind of bad boy look that many many frogs fall for.
The frog falls in love with the scorpion, she is soo happy and feels so proud: how can i be so lucky to have such a beautiful scorpion by my side? They are together, they have fun, and the frog thinks things are too nice and sweet to be true. The scorpion sometimes hurts the frog, he has to keep his sting in shape he says, she feels hurted but understands. After all, he loves me, i am his frog, why would he be with me if he didn’t love me? So she forgets and forgives.

Sometimes a frog can be smart enough to leave the dangerous dude and follow her way safely, but most times they get caught, like a fly in a spiderweb.
Sooner or later the scorpion will sting the frog so bad they will both sink in some stream, no matter how many times the dude says he can change.

Please frogs, stay away from scorpions…it’s in their nature!

What is beauty for you?

28 Mar

Beauty: a word everyone knows but, if you ask people, not many can describe beauty with words. Is beauty tangible or does it belong to the world of the subconscience?
I personally can find beauty in practically anything, but would have a hard time describing why things or even people are beautiful to me.
Studies say there are certain facial features that most people find pretty: symetric face, big eyes, yummy lips, long legs, soft skin… but still, beauty is so subjective i totally agree that it is “in the eye of the beholder. However, in every country, rich and poor, cultured and ignorants have been seeking for beauty, everyone has tried or tries to fit in that concept of beauty our social environment tells us is the right one. Gazillions of euros, dollars or whatever currency you want have been invested in looking better: make up, hair dressers, gyms, clothes, cosmetics and other beauty treatments, plastic surgery…

In my oppinion it is healthy trying to look pretty or at least trying to look better using whatever tools are availble for you. Like any woman i know, and also a few men, i spend quite a lot of time trying to improve myself. Dieting, exercising and so is healthy yes, but not if you get obsessed with it. We should keep in mind that we’re all unique and that noone has to fit in any prototype.

Take a second to think: everyone you liked look the same? everything you find beautiful fits the same style? Probably not, or at least i hope so, because otherwise you’d be missing the spice of life!!

Thinking of it, beauty always shines through everything, you just need to keep your eyes open…