Look at the size of her beside a hand...
Today:
Before:
Today:
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Nothing new on the Dream front
Inception didn't do it for me... Why? Let's see...
The actors and the dialogue, in the first third of the film, never let me forget I was watching lines being delivered.
The music throughout was loud enough to become distinctly annoying.
It's a film that wants to be deep without relinquishing its claim to Action. Unfortunately, the action is both unnecessary to the story, and dragging. The attack on the snowy compound is like a video game: you shoot, anonymous silhouettes crumble, except I got bored with the game long before the director did.
Examples of truly ground-breaking movies are the first Matrix, Avatar, the early Blade Runner. Despite the fuss, Inception is not one of them. The necessary romance, hero's angst, action and twists in the plot have been too dutifully assembled. Instead of being carried away, you simply want to put a check mark as you recognize each element.
Kuddos, however, to Tom Hardy, playing Eames. He's the only breath of fresh air in the middle of a cast of stilted, artificial acting.
Friday, July 16, 2010
The Year the Curtain was Lifted
For 8 years, we have been convinced that something was "off" with my son. In those 8 years, we consulted several times, trying to figure out what was going on.
Each and every time we were sent back with the assurance that he was perfectly normal and any difficulties we were having were due to upbringing. Read: "You are failing as parents, it's all your fault if he's messed up, your parenting is clearly inadequate."
You can just imagine the level of guilt we developed through the years, or maybe you can't possibly. Each time, we left resolute to crack down on my son's misbehaving and war and mayhem would ensue.
Then, a few months or a year later, we'd stare at him and think: "It's NOT the parenting or at least not only that. Something is WRONG." And off we would go to another professional, to be more or less covertly blamed as usual and assured that my son would be just fine if we were just stricter.
It went on for 8 years, 8 years of conflicts, of rage on both sides, of slowly becoming despondent, both parents and child. Then, in his first year of high-school, my son threw in the towel. School was so stressful, painful, hated, humiliating, that he simply stopped going, and nothing could change his mind.
Distressed, we once more rang up the channels of the powers that be. This time, he had reached such a state of undoing that it was impossible to ignore any longer or pretend he just needed stricter parents. The teachers were at loss, the psychologists were at loss, we were at loss. So throughout this school year, 2009-2010, we slowly navigated the channels. It is harder to obtain an appointment with a child psychiatrist than to meet the pope. We dug our heels. We were patient. My son had dropped out of school at 12, there was nothing to lose anymore.
After seeing numerous professionals, a diagnostic was finally given, in June 2010. My son has an Attention Deficit Disorder AND Pervasive Developmental Disorder (PDD), a form of autism. He also has a superior IQ. All these years of trying to convince the counsellors that he WAS different...
Emotions are mixed. Rage at having been blamed all along and at their failure to realize he needed help... Relief, to know it wasn't our fault after all, and that he's not behaving the way he does because he's a brat, a fear that was haunting me... Grief at having to accept that he will ALWAYS be different...
He's enrolled in special PDD classes next fall. And all the while, we tried to hammer him into fitting in school, when he was a square among circles, and caught hell for it from the merciless classmates.
Each and every time we were sent back with the assurance that he was perfectly normal and any difficulties we were having were due to upbringing. Read: "You are failing as parents, it's all your fault if he's messed up, your parenting is clearly inadequate."
You can just imagine the level of guilt we developed through the years, or maybe you can't possibly. Each time, we left resolute to crack down on my son's misbehaving and war and mayhem would ensue.
Then, a few months or a year later, we'd stare at him and think: "It's NOT the parenting or at least not only that. Something is WRONG." And off we would go to another professional, to be more or less covertly blamed as usual and assured that my son would be just fine if we were just stricter.
It went on for 8 years, 8 years of conflicts, of rage on both sides, of slowly becoming despondent, both parents and child. Then, in his first year of high-school, my son threw in the towel. School was so stressful, painful, hated, humiliating, that he simply stopped going, and nothing could change his mind.
Distressed, we once more rang up the channels of the powers that be. This time, he had reached such a state of undoing that it was impossible to ignore any longer or pretend he just needed stricter parents. The teachers were at loss, the psychologists were at loss, we were at loss. So throughout this school year, 2009-2010, we slowly navigated the channels. It is harder to obtain an appointment with a child psychiatrist than to meet the pope. We dug our heels. We were patient. My son had dropped out of school at 12, there was nothing to lose anymore.
After seeing numerous professionals, a diagnostic was finally given, in June 2010. My son has an Attention Deficit Disorder AND Pervasive Developmental Disorder (PDD), a form of autism. He also has a superior IQ. All these years of trying to convince the counsellors that he WAS different...
Emotions are mixed. Rage at having been blamed all along and at their failure to realize he needed help... Relief, to know it wasn't our fault after all, and that he's not behaving the way he does because he's a brat, a fear that was haunting me... Grief at having to accept that he will ALWAYS be different...
He's enrolled in special PDD classes next fall. And all the while, we tried to hammer him into fitting in school, when he was a square among circles, and caught hell for it from the merciless classmates.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
First-thing-in-the-morning reads
Time magazine recently published a list of the so-proclaimed 25 best blogs of 2010 (needless to say, they’re all English... perhaps we could amend that to the 25 best English-language blogs? Naaw, North America has long forgotten there’s a world beyond...)
I have 5 blogs linked on my page, and I enjoy them so much that I want to briefly introduce each of them, in no particular order:
Coriolistic Anachronisms:
Vince is a photographer philosopher unless he is a philosopher photographer. He’s also a gifted writer, world traveler, computer and camera equipment maniac.
What you can mostly expect on his blog:
Wonderful photographs, food for thought, technical posts and Wisdom.
Morning Bray Farm:
Two burros and two donkeys live on a farm in New Mexico. Justina and Don, the owners, take great photographs of the daily life.
What you can mostly expect on this blog:
Plenty of donkey’s antics, wrapped in humor and tenderness.
The 7 MSN Ranch:
Out in the middle of a spectacular nowhere: one woman, one horse, two burros, one dog, one pig, five cats and the occasional visitor (snake, spider, lizard, varmin). Linda is professional-class photographer who truly has an eye for light and composition. She takes pictures that tell stories... those are the best.
What you can mostly expect on this blog:
A wonderful sense of humor, an inextinguishable love for animals, pet pictures that will make you dream, laugh or fall in love, and George and Alan, the two cutest asses on the planet.
Don Estorbo de la Bodega:
This is a black cat’s blog. A black cat with a strong accent and an attitude.
What you can expect on this blog:
A hilarious black cat with a strong accent and an attitude.
66 Square Feet:
Marie lives in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn. She mostly blogs about things that grow, cooking, and daily life in Brooklyn. She takes remarkable close-ups of plants and food. She’s well-read, outspoken, with a sharp and lively mind. Her blog has been acknowledged and nominated on several occasions.
What you can expect on this blog:
All about growing and identifying plants, delicious recipes, drinks and editorials.
Of course, there is some family connection (not that it influences my judgement in any way OF COURSE!). Vince is my brother, Marie my sister-in-law and Estorbo my cat-in-law. The asses, unfortunately, are not related.
So go visit, and enjoy!!
I have 5 blogs linked on my page, and I enjoy them so much that I want to briefly introduce each of them, in no particular order:
Coriolistic Anachronisms:
Vince is a photographer philosopher unless he is a philosopher photographer. He’s also a gifted writer, world traveler, computer and camera equipment maniac.
What you can mostly expect on his blog:
Wonderful photographs, food for thought, technical posts and Wisdom.
Morning Bray Farm:
Two burros and two donkeys live on a farm in New Mexico. Justina and Don, the owners, take great photographs of the daily life.
What you can mostly expect on this blog:
Plenty of donkey’s antics, wrapped in humor and tenderness.
The 7 MSN Ranch:
Out in the middle of a spectacular nowhere: one woman, one horse, two burros, one dog, one pig, five cats and the occasional visitor (snake, spider, lizard, varmin). Linda is professional-class photographer who truly has an eye for light and composition. She takes pictures that tell stories... those are the best.
What you can mostly expect on this blog:
A wonderful sense of humor, an inextinguishable love for animals, pet pictures that will make you dream, laugh or fall in love, and George and Alan, the two cutest asses on the planet.
Don Estorbo de la Bodega:
This is a black cat’s blog. A black cat with a strong accent and an attitude.
What you can expect on this blog:
A hilarious black cat with a strong accent and an attitude.
66 Square Feet:
Marie lives in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn. She mostly blogs about things that grow, cooking, and daily life in Brooklyn. She takes remarkable close-ups of plants and food. She’s well-read, outspoken, with a sharp and lively mind. Her blog has been acknowledged and nominated on several occasions.
What you can expect on this blog:
All about growing and identifying plants, delicious recipes, drinks and editorials.
Of course, there is some family connection (not that it influences my judgement in any way OF COURSE!). Vince is my brother, Marie my sister-in-law and Estorbo my cat-in-law. The asses, unfortunately, are not related.
So go visit, and enjoy!!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Re-introducing: the Cats
Today is a momentous day. Today, after a hiatus of one year, I’m going back to blogging. I knew I would eventually. I waited to be ready.
I’ve discovered new blogs that I enjoy beyond words, and they also nudged me forward.
Most of my favourite blogs have a point. A theme. A purpose. I delight in the fact that mine has not. My blog is my blank page, the voice of the girl who seldom speaks out. I delight in my freedom to write about anything ...
Compounding my freedom, is the fact that all my followers have long ago stopped checking on my blog. I don’t expect traffic except for a few loved ones. That also makes a difference, knowing that what I write will hardly be read.
Last evening we had a thunderstorm. Wind and rain lashed the windows, the trees, the clothes laid out to dry, the kind of outpour that soaks you within seconds, violent winds that flipped leaves over, like a skirt billowing up against your will. I loved it. I love storms. A gorgeous double rainbow illuminated the sky and then night fell.
When I was blogging last, I had just lost one of my favourite cats ever. Right away, I got two new kittens and they did a wonderful job of distracting me from my grief. So now, for this new reader that I will call "you", here’s how the family stands:
Circe is twelve, the oldest, the veteran. She’s declawed. She is a mama’s girl, following me like a shadow, trusting no one but me. She’s very soft, very skinny, under her fluffy fur she actually weighs nothing. I pick her up like a rag doll and she pretends to hate it but she loves it. She’s curious, sociable, not shy, but grumpy. She will lie close to the others but will never actually cuddle with them. She’s learned to bite hard, to make up, I think, for her helplessness at being declawed (I mistake I vowed never to do again), but with me, she only fakes it and never actually bites.
Circe
Loukhi was Luritja’s “baby”. I’ve never seen two cats so attached to each other, so inseparable, so intimate. I know Luritja’s death left a huge hole in Loukhi’s life. For months on end, she lost patches of fur, bare spots as clean as if they had been shaved. I think she was grieving badly in the beginning. Loukhi is the quiet, peaceful one. She’s a solid cat, yet she has that tiny, soft, shy meow, which she uses only to answer when you sweet talk to her. Even though she doesn’t love them as she loved Luritja, she gets along fine with the others and I think she’s happy enough again, as happy as you can be when the love of your life has been taken away from you. She loves being petted but doesn’t come onto your lap. None of my cats do.
Loukhi and her love
Happier times
Loukhi
Saphi is the tiny thing I adopted one day after Luritja died. As a kitten, she was adorable. Independent, curious, friendly. She immediately got along with the others. Her characteristic was that she fell in love with the blanket on my bed and used it as a surrogate mother. She would suckle on it passionately, purring loudly, until she soothed herself to sleep, her nose still in the fake fur. I have endless pictures of Pasha and her, as kittens, and on each of them, Pasha is stretched out like a rabbit while you can’t see Saphi’s nose, buried in the blanket. They made for an adorable pair. A year later, Saphi is still as tiny and as skinny as delicate china. She’s become even more independent. She doesn’t like petting and tries to avoid our hands. She doesn’t purr easily and she’s the first cat I know who hardly ever smiles. A non-smiling cat is so very odd to me. Instead of smiling, she gravely looks at you with huge but friendly eyes, studying you. She looks directly at you, deep into your eyes, intent on understanding what you’re saying, or on passing a silent message. She spends hours away from home. We wonder where she goes. For all that, it is clear that she’s a perfectly happy cat, playful, jumping higher than any other, and as acrobatic as a monkey. Precious Saphi.
Don't hate me because I'm beautiful...
"Hum, impressive!"
A few days after Saphi, I got Pasha. Pasha is the only male, as was Luritja. And they turned out to have a lot in common. Pasha is a bon vivant. Food is his hobby, and from being slightly smaller than Saphi as a kitten, he’s grown at least twice her size. He’s the biggest cat now. He’s a trusting, good natured fellow, who rolls onto his back any chance he gets, another thing Luritja used to do. He has regular bouts of intense affection during which, purring loudly, he rubs back and forth against you, stubbornly. And he has the funniest meow, which he uses a lot. His meow is very clear: an insistent, reproachful whining. It seems to chide you for the way you treat him/ignore him/not feed him, it complains: “I am a poor, pitiful cat and I’m being grossly mistreated”. You could build unions on his meow. His only fault is that he plays too rough. When he claws in play, he doesn’t hold back, as the cries of the others often remind us. And when he decides to ambush my feet beneath the sheet while I’m peacefully sleeping, the pain has made me scream out loud. Idiot.
With the newcomer
Well! I certainly did not intend to write to such length on my first post back, but I’m glad you are now introduced to the crowd. Thus you will know who I’m talking about... All these pictures are old, and now that they're grown up, I'll post new ones so you can see the changes. As for the rest of the house’s inhabitants, it will be for another time!
I’ve discovered new blogs that I enjoy beyond words, and they also nudged me forward.
Most of my favourite blogs have a point. A theme. A purpose. I delight in the fact that mine has not. My blog is my blank page, the voice of the girl who seldom speaks out. I delight in my freedom to write about anything ...
Compounding my freedom, is the fact that all my followers have long ago stopped checking on my blog. I don’t expect traffic except for a few loved ones. That also makes a difference, knowing that what I write will hardly be read.
Last evening we had a thunderstorm. Wind and rain lashed the windows, the trees, the clothes laid out to dry, the kind of outpour that soaks you within seconds, violent winds that flipped leaves over, like a skirt billowing up against your will. I loved it. I love storms. A gorgeous double rainbow illuminated the sky and then night fell.
When I was blogging last, I had just lost one of my favourite cats ever. Right away, I got two new kittens and they did a wonderful job of distracting me from my grief. So now, for this new reader that I will call "you", here’s how the family stands:
Circe is twelve, the oldest, the veteran. She’s declawed. She is a mama’s girl, following me like a shadow, trusting no one but me. She’s very soft, very skinny, under her fluffy fur she actually weighs nothing. I pick her up like a rag doll and she pretends to hate it but she loves it. She’s curious, sociable, not shy, but grumpy. She will lie close to the others but will never actually cuddle with them. She’s learned to bite hard, to make up, I think, for her helplessness at being declawed (I mistake I vowed never to do again), but with me, she only fakes it and never actually bites.
CirceLoukhi was Luritja’s “baby”. I’ve never seen two cats so attached to each other, so inseparable, so intimate. I know Luritja’s death left a huge hole in Loukhi’s life. For months on end, she lost patches of fur, bare spots as clean as if they had been shaved. I think she was grieving badly in the beginning. Loukhi is the quiet, peaceful one. She’s a solid cat, yet she has that tiny, soft, shy meow, which she uses only to answer when you sweet talk to her. Even though she doesn’t love them as she loved Luritja, she gets along fine with the others and I think she’s happy enough again, as happy as you can be when the love of your life has been taken away from you. She loves being petted but doesn’t come onto your lap. None of my cats do.
Loukhi and her loveHappier timesLoukhiSaphi is the tiny thing I adopted one day after Luritja died. As a kitten, she was adorable. Independent, curious, friendly. She immediately got along with the others. Her characteristic was that she fell in love with the blanket on my bed and used it as a surrogate mother. She would suckle on it passionately, purring loudly, until she soothed herself to sleep, her nose still in the fake fur. I have endless pictures of Pasha and her, as kittens, and on each of them, Pasha is stretched out like a rabbit while you can’t see Saphi’s nose, buried in the blanket. They made for an adorable pair. A year later, Saphi is still as tiny and as skinny as delicate china. She’s become even more independent. She doesn’t like petting and tries to avoid our hands. She doesn’t purr easily and she’s the first cat I know who hardly ever smiles. A non-smiling cat is so very odd to me. Instead of smiling, she gravely looks at you with huge but friendly eyes, studying you. She looks directly at you, deep into your eyes, intent on understanding what you’re saying, or on passing a silent message. She spends hours away from home. We wonder where she goes. For all that, it is clear that she’s a perfectly happy cat, playful, jumping higher than any other, and as acrobatic as a monkey. Precious Saphi.
Don't hate me because I'm beautiful..."Hum, impressive!"A few days after Saphi, I got Pasha. Pasha is the only male, as was Luritja. And they turned out to have a lot in common. Pasha is a bon vivant. Food is his hobby, and from being slightly smaller than Saphi as a kitten, he’s grown at least twice her size. He’s the biggest cat now. He’s a trusting, good natured fellow, who rolls onto his back any chance he gets, another thing Luritja used to do. He has regular bouts of intense affection during which, purring loudly, he rubs back and forth against you, stubbornly. And he has the funniest meow, which he uses a lot. His meow is very clear: an insistent, reproachful whining. It seems to chide you for the way you treat him/ignore him/not feed him, it complains: “I am a poor, pitiful cat and I’m being grossly mistreated”. You could build unions on his meow. His only fault is that he plays too rough. When he claws in play, he doesn’t hold back, as the cries of the others often remind us. And when he decides to ambush my feet beneath the sheet while I’m peacefully sleeping, the pain has made me scream out loud. Idiot.
With the newcomer
Well! I certainly did not intend to write to such length on my first post back, but I’m glad you are now introduced to the crowd. Thus you will know who I’m talking about... All these pictures are old, and now that they're grown up, I'll post new ones so you can see the changes. As for the rest of the house’s inhabitants, it will be for another time!
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Self Portraits I Like
Carl Larsson
Romaine Brooks
Frida KahloI'll add more as I come upon them... or remember them...
Thursday, April 16, 2009
In Memoriam
Luritja my love, may you eat, and jump, cuddle and purr in peace in Cats' Paradise.
One of my favorite cats ever, I will post pictures of my precious Fatso King when I cry less.
One of my favorite cats ever, I will post pictures of my precious Fatso King when I cry less.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
President Obama
Some humor, the rest makes me feel so glad and safe that he's the Leader. May I vote for him, again?
Excerpt from the transcript of President Obama on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno, March 19, 2009
"I see the fairground where I think we're having this town hall and I said, well, why don't we walk over there? Secret Services says, no, sir, it's 750 yards."
"I do think Washington is a bit like "American Idol" except everybody is Simon Cowell."
"The change I'd like to see in terms of tax policy is that we have a system (…) where you and I who are doing pretty well pay a little bit more to pay for healthcare, to pay for energy, to make sure that kids can go to college who aren't as fortunate as ours (…)"
"Most of the stuff that got us into trouble was perfectly legal. And that is a sign of how much we've got to change our laws --right?"
" (…) a smart kid coming out of school, instead of wanting to be an investment banker, we need them to decide they want to be an engineer, they want to be a scientist, they want to be a doctor or a teatcher."
"(…) I think two days ago, when somebody asked, well, do you have confidence in Tim Geithner. I said, look, I'm the president, so ultimately all this stuff is my responsibility."
"And one of the things I am trying to break is a pattern in Washington where everybody is always looking for somebody else to blame."
"It's spectacular what is being done now with plug-in hybrids, where not only are you getting the hybrid technology, but now you can plug it in at home in your garage (…) And when you get home you could potentially sell the energy in your car back into the grid, back to your utility, and get money.
So we're going to be investing billions of dollars in research and development around these technologies (…) That's a whole new level of technology. That what's going to create the auto industry of the future."
"You know, they say if you want a friend in Washington, get a dog."
Excerpt from the transcript of President Obama on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno, March 19, 2009
"I see the fairground where I think we're having this town hall and I said, well, why don't we walk over there? Secret Services says, no, sir, it's 750 yards."
"I do think Washington is a bit like "American Idol" except everybody is Simon Cowell."
"The change I'd like to see in terms of tax policy is that we have a system (…) where you and I who are doing pretty well pay a little bit more to pay for healthcare, to pay for energy, to make sure that kids can go to college who aren't as fortunate as ours (…)"
"Most of the stuff that got us into trouble was perfectly legal. And that is a sign of how much we've got to change our laws --right?"
" (…) a smart kid coming out of school, instead of wanting to be an investment banker, we need them to decide they want to be an engineer, they want to be a scientist, they want to be a doctor or a teatcher."
"(…) I think two days ago, when somebody asked, well, do you have confidence in Tim Geithner. I said, look, I'm the president, so ultimately all this stuff is my responsibility."
"And one of the things I am trying to break is a pattern in Washington where everybody is always looking for somebody else to blame."
"It's spectacular what is being done now with plug-in hybrids, where not only are you getting the hybrid technology, but now you can plug it in at home in your garage (…) And when you get home you could potentially sell the energy in your car back into the grid, back to your utility, and get money.
So we're going to be investing billions of dollars in research and development around these technologies (…) That's a whole new level of technology. That what's going to create the auto industry of the future."
"You know, they say if you want a friend in Washington, get a dog."
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Unsponsored Commercial Pause
Once in a while, when I find something good, I like to share.
For those who are into music and have been for a long time, like I am, for those who use MP3 players, particularly for training or running, like I do, we often search for particular beats, or songs, or versions, without necessarily wanting to buy the whole CD (previously records and tapes!).
I have found a gem of a place called Justmusicstore.
Justmusicstore offers MP3's for the unbeatable price of… 15 cents. Itunes Store, eat your heart out. Pay 99 cents for a single track? Not anymore, for that price you can have almost a whole album!
Fight with the M4P Itune format and how to transform it and how to share it etc? Not anymore, welcome to simple, unlimited MP3 files.
Justmusicstore offers an extensive library. Of all I've searched so far, there may be only one or two things I haven't found.
What's more they usually offer numerous versions. Did you want the original version, the radio edit, the remix by Klaas, the cover by somebody else, the German version? All there for you to chose.
Finally, you can pre-listen to portions of each song, to make sure it is indeed what you are looking for.
The minimum start up is a 20 dollars deposit, with no expiration date. Then you purchase as you please and tracks are deducted from your balance as you go.
For 20 dollars with Itunes, you get 20 songs. For 20 dollars with Justmusicstore, you get 133 songs. Say hello to whole U2 albums for 1.50$?
The choice is so wide, the download so convenient, the pre-listening so ideal that I've started to look for songs there before I even search (free) Acquisition.
They don't even know I'm plugging them on my blog. I do it because when I find something great, in these days of overpricing and customers being held hostage, I want to spread it far and wide!!!
Enjoy!
For those who are into music and have been for a long time, like I am, for those who use MP3 players, particularly for training or running, like I do, we often search for particular beats, or songs, or versions, without necessarily wanting to buy the whole CD (previously records and tapes!).
I have found a gem of a place called Justmusicstore.
Justmusicstore offers MP3's for the unbeatable price of… 15 cents. Itunes Store, eat your heart out. Pay 99 cents for a single track? Not anymore, for that price you can have almost a whole album!
Fight with the M4P Itune format and how to transform it and how to share it etc? Not anymore, welcome to simple, unlimited MP3 files.
Justmusicstore offers an extensive library. Of all I've searched so far, there may be only one or two things I haven't found.
What's more they usually offer numerous versions. Did you want the original version, the radio edit, the remix by Klaas, the cover by somebody else, the German version? All there for you to chose.
Finally, you can pre-listen to portions of each song, to make sure it is indeed what you are looking for.
The minimum start up is a 20 dollars deposit, with no expiration date. Then you purchase as you please and tracks are deducted from your balance as you go.
For 20 dollars with Itunes, you get 20 songs. For 20 dollars with Justmusicstore, you get 133 songs. Say hello to whole U2 albums for 1.50$?
The choice is so wide, the download so convenient, the pre-listening so ideal that I've started to look for songs there before I even search (free) Acquisition.
They don't even know I'm plugging them on my blog. I do it because when I find something great, in these days of overpricing and customers being held hostage, I want to spread it far and wide!!!
Enjoy!
Monday, January 05, 2009
Dear Abby
I'm not sure, but I think I just broke up with my scale.
It still lives at home so we might be able to patch things up, but I don't know.
The huge argument broke out when I got on it and it just threw me this big number, BANG! No warning, no small talk, nothing!
I got off and I said: "You know, I don't find that you're being very kind to me."
It said nothing. I said, you know, all reasonable-like: "Look, things are not easy for me these days. I've been sick throughout the holidays, the job is horrible, I'm dealing with a lot. Help me out here."
I got on it again BANG! same big number, not a word.
I said angrily: "Yeah, well this is not my idea of a relationship, this is not my idea of communication, or dialogue! You want to be this way, you might just have to go and weight someone else!"
It STILL didn't answer me. Silent treatment all the way! Then I KNEW that's exactly what it wanted!
"FINE! BE THAT WAY! SEE IF YOU'RE GONNA SEE ME AGAIN ANY TIME SOON!"
And I stormed off. We haven't talked since. I mean, I'm not gonna let a scale walk all over me!
Does anybody have any advice on what I should do now?
It still lives at home so we might be able to patch things up, but I don't know.
The huge argument broke out when I got on it and it just threw me this big number, BANG! No warning, no small talk, nothing!
I got off and I said: "You know, I don't find that you're being very kind to me."
It said nothing. I said, you know, all reasonable-like: "Look, things are not easy for me these days. I've been sick throughout the holidays, the job is horrible, I'm dealing with a lot. Help me out here."
I got on it again BANG! same big number, not a word.
I said angrily: "Yeah, well this is not my idea of a relationship, this is not my idea of communication, or dialogue! You want to be this way, you might just have to go and weight someone else!"
It STILL didn't answer me. Silent treatment all the way! Then I KNEW that's exactly what it wanted!
"FINE! BE THAT WAY! SEE IF YOU'RE GONNA SEE ME AGAIN ANY TIME SOON!"
And I stormed off. We haven't talked since. I mean, I'm not gonna let a scale walk all over me!
Does anybody have any advice on what I should do now?
Sunday, December 28, 2008
The Wind Blows
I have a cold. Colds were invented to make people miserable. It works. I'm miserable. Constant sore throat. Extremely tired so every thirty minutes or so I must go and lie down a little. Too tired to read or watch TV but not sleepy. So I'm literally doing nothing and bored out of my mind.
Outside, the wind has been hollering like a banshee all day. You hear it pressing on the windows, the walls, shaking the trees like it's furious and will not calm down. It's a wind tempest.
Meanwhile, I'm bored. And tired. But not sleepy.
Below was a second before opening presents. We had a nice time. Now, I have a cold.
Outside, the wind has been hollering like a banshee all day. You hear it pressing on the windows, the walls, shaking the trees like it's furious and will not calm down. It's a wind tempest.
Meanwhile, I'm bored. And tired. But not sleepy.
Below was a second before opening presents. We had a nice time. Now, I have a cold.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Randoms
I've never met a cat I didn't like. This little newcomer was adopted by some friends this week. Her name is Zoe.
In no time, I had her spread out on her back, hypnotized, offering a soft belly to anybody around. Damn, I'm good.
In the end, we got lazy. There is no real green tree, this year, for the first time ever. We'll do one next year. Opening presents is on Dec. 24, but the young generation has been lobbying hard to have the presents under the tree before that. Why not? It's such a pretty sight, so full of magic and promises...
In no time, I had her spread out on her back, hypnotized, offering a soft belly to anybody around. Damn, I'm good.
In the end, we got lazy. There is no real green tree, this year, for the first time ever. We'll do one next year. Opening presents is on Dec. 24, but the young generation has been lobbying hard to have the presents under the tree before that. Why not? It's such a pretty sight, so full of magic and promises...
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Winter Wonderland
Freezing rain fell, coating everything in shiny clear ice. When the sun shines, everything sparkles and looks magical. I'm not quite happy with my pictures. Where are Vince and Marie when you need them?
Oh I know where they are. Just about on their way to the outdoors, intense sun, flowers and new discoveries. Shoot from the hip, guys! Cameras, I mean.
Oh I know where they are. Just about on their way to the outdoors, intense sun, flowers and new discoveries. Shoot from the hip, guys! Cameras, I mean.
Friday, December 05, 2008
On December 4th
Yesterday was my birthday.
Yesterday also, Janica finally lost her battle and passed away. She fought so hard to live. She went through so much pain.
Godspeed Janica.
Yesterday also, Janica finally lost her battle and passed away. She fought so hard to live. She went through so much pain.
Godspeed Janica.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Bravo
An employee is trampled to death by hundreds of eager customers as they charge into a Wal-mart store, when its doors opened at 5 am on the day of a special sale.
Was it a stampede of starved people trying to get food rations? No.
Were they trying to get other, desperately needed supplies? No.
Is this an uncivilized country where human life has little value? No.
It was a bunch of greedy consumers, in a land of plenty, willing to get up and start waiting in line at 3:00 am to start shopping at 5:00 am, all to save a few bucks on ordinary merchandise.
I hope you REALLY enjoy the 9 $ DVD you got a bargain on.
And they wonder why I like cats.
Was it a stampede of starved people trying to get food rations? No.
Were they trying to get other, desperately needed supplies? No.
Is this an uncivilized country where human life has little value? No.
It was a bunch of greedy consumers, in a land of plenty, willing to get up and start waiting in line at 3:00 am to start shopping at 5:00 am, all to save a few bucks on ordinary merchandise.
I hope you REALLY enjoy the 9 $ DVD you got a bargain on.
And they wonder why I like cats.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Trees
I know it's a bit early but I suddenly wanted a white tree. So I got one.
At night, it's veeeeeeeery pretty!
'Course, we'll still have a real green one in the living room...
At night, it's veeeeeeeery pretty!
'Course, we'll still have a real green one in the living room...
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
The Last Attempt
Vince, you want to skip this one.
This is my blog, and the advantage of having few readers is that I can write what I damn well please. This is about a book and an event few outside the diving circles have even heard of. To anybody who has not read the book, it will probably be charabia. But it's my blog, so I can indulge!!!
This post is a follow-up to the October 11's one, titled "The Ocean".
****
I've just finished reading "The Last Attempt" by Carlos Serra. Former friend and associate of Pipin Ferreras, he wrote the book trying to find out what really happened to Audrey Mestre on the day she died. He was there, he was one of the main players. And he was very fond of Audrey.
The book is riveting. In fact it cost me five hours of sleep because I could not put it down.
Having known Pipin, the book triggered several memories for me.
In 1993, when Mayol was in Freeport, he was there to do a symbolic dive: in 1966, he had broken the world record in Freeport by free diving to 66 meters. That year, in 1993, he was 66 years old and had decided to do it again, to mark the occasion.
Pipin was there either to dive or break another record. That they would both be on island at the same time seemed a little much for coincidence, especially considering that they didn't like each other. Mayol, with whom I spent more time because I spoke French, dismissed Ferreras as reckless, a bad example for others in a dangerous sport. (He would say the same to Serra.) At the time, I had overlooked it as a childish attempt to put down an competitor, because Mayol could be quite harsh in what he said about other people.
I also remembered more what Pipin was like, as Serra so accurately described the various moods. He could seem almost childish or naive in a way that made you want to protect him. He could be extremely smooth, friendly and charming. He could snap very shortly at someone but usually in Spanish, which I didn't understand. He could be somber and moody. Always, he was larger than life. And for sure, he made arbitrary decisions, following a reasoning that the rest of us seldom got, and they usually were never challenged. He was the undisputed master, in charge at all times.
I think Serra's explanation hits the nail in several regards, but there are still some holes in his theory:
Why would Pipin, making a scuba rescue of Audrey, become a hero for the public? Footage of them sharing a tank as they slowly got back up would be very anti-climatic, nothing spectacular. That he was thinking ahead for a future film makes more sense to me, because Pipin was always thinking way, way ahead. But I'm not convinced about the intended plot.
I am convinced Pipin knowingly did not fill the Pony bottle and I am convinced that asking for a scuba set to be geared up for him in advance is extremely revealing.
Something else doesn't make sense. My first question about the story was "WHY did Audrey not take air from her safety diver?" Serra has what I think is an accurate answer for that. But WHY did Pascal not clearly offer it to her, insisted with a regulator right in her face??? You see him trying to push her up. How senseless is that? Especially after the sled got stuck for 30 seconds at 164 meters. By then, he should have KNOWN she couldn't make it to the surface on time. And my guess is that Audrey wasn't even trying to swim up.
Eventually, Pascal caught her sinking back down, unconscious, and then took her up. But it remains a big mystery to me what happened at the bottom and Pascal seemed to have contradicted himself in later versions. I can believe Pipin had a hidden plan. I don't for a minute believe Pascal would have been part of it.
One thing is for sure: there are holes and lies and delusions on Pipin's part that are undeniable. The unexpected decision to suddenly put Serra in charge officially, but still not let him be. The suggestion of replacing Pascal as the deep safety on Trimix. Brushing away all attempts to remind him to fill the Pony.
One of the most revealing thing for me, as an experienced instructor, came at the very end of the book: footage of Pipin alternating a straight kick with a static kick on his way up with Audrey. Anybody who has spent significant time in the water knows the static, sideways kick that allows you to remain almost stationary or moving very slowly. NOT what you would use when bringing up your wife in a life and death situation.
All in all, I don't know. But Serra writes with the accent of truth. I don't believe all his conclusions but most of them. The episode of Pipin stealing Serra's air left my jaw hanging.
And Audrey, in all this? She was a disturbed and unhappy individual. It is very hard for me to respect a doormat woman. That she could show such physical courage as to descending to the depth she did, yet so little spine to assert herself is bitterly ironic. She was not a fighter, a survivor. I agree with Serra: I think when she found out the tank was empty, knowing who was in charge of it, she simply gave up. Holding on to the sled with both hands doing nothing, waiting for death.
I never knew her and what I learned made me lose a lot of respect for her. Still. So sad.
This is my blog, and the advantage of having few readers is that I can write what I damn well please. This is about a book and an event few outside the diving circles have even heard of. To anybody who has not read the book, it will probably be charabia. But it's my blog, so I can indulge!!!
This post is a follow-up to the October 11's one, titled "The Ocean".
****
I've just finished reading "The Last Attempt" by Carlos Serra. Former friend and associate of Pipin Ferreras, he wrote the book trying to find out what really happened to Audrey Mestre on the day she died. He was there, he was one of the main players. And he was very fond of Audrey.
The book is riveting. In fact it cost me five hours of sleep because I could not put it down.
Having known Pipin, the book triggered several memories for me.
In 1993, when Mayol was in Freeport, he was there to do a symbolic dive: in 1966, he had broken the world record in Freeport by free diving to 66 meters. That year, in 1993, he was 66 years old and had decided to do it again, to mark the occasion.
Pipin was there either to dive or break another record. That they would both be on island at the same time seemed a little much for coincidence, especially considering that they didn't like each other. Mayol, with whom I spent more time because I spoke French, dismissed Ferreras as reckless, a bad example for others in a dangerous sport. (He would say the same to Serra.) At the time, I had overlooked it as a childish attempt to put down an competitor, because Mayol could be quite harsh in what he said about other people.
I also remembered more what Pipin was like, as Serra so accurately described the various moods. He could seem almost childish or naive in a way that made you want to protect him. He could be extremely smooth, friendly and charming. He could snap very shortly at someone but usually in Spanish, which I didn't understand. He could be somber and moody. Always, he was larger than life. And for sure, he made arbitrary decisions, following a reasoning that the rest of us seldom got, and they usually were never challenged. He was the undisputed master, in charge at all times.
I think Serra's explanation hits the nail in several regards, but there are still some holes in his theory:
Why would Pipin, making a scuba rescue of Audrey, become a hero for the public? Footage of them sharing a tank as they slowly got back up would be very anti-climatic, nothing spectacular. That he was thinking ahead for a future film makes more sense to me, because Pipin was always thinking way, way ahead. But I'm not convinced about the intended plot.
I am convinced Pipin knowingly did not fill the Pony bottle and I am convinced that asking for a scuba set to be geared up for him in advance is extremely revealing.
Something else doesn't make sense. My first question about the story was "WHY did Audrey not take air from her safety diver?" Serra has what I think is an accurate answer for that. But WHY did Pascal not clearly offer it to her, insisted with a regulator right in her face??? You see him trying to push her up. How senseless is that? Especially after the sled got stuck for 30 seconds at 164 meters. By then, he should have KNOWN she couldn't make it to the surface on time. And my guess is that Audrey wasn't even trying to swim up.
Eventually, Pascal caught her sinking back down, unconscious, and then took her up. But it remains a big mystery to me what happened at the bottom and Pascal seemed to have contradicted himself in later versions. I can believe Pipin had a hidden plan. I don't for a minute believe Pascal would have been part of it.
One thing is for sure: there are holes and lies and delusions on Pipin's part that are undeniable. The unexpected decision to suddenly put Serra in charge officially, but still not let him be. The suggestion of replacing Pascal as the deep safety on Trimix. Brushing away all attempts to remind him to fill the Pony.
One of the most revealing thing for me, as an experienced instructor, came at the very end of the book: footage of Pipin alternating a straight kick with a static kick on his way up with Audrey. Anybody who has spent significant time in the water knows the static, sideways kick that allows you to remain almost stationary or moving very slowly. NOT what you would use when bringing up your wife in a life and death situation.
All in all, I don't know. But Serra writes with the accent of truth. I don't believe all his conclusions but most of them. The episode of Pipin stealing Serra's air left my jaw hanging.
And Audrey, in all this? She was a disturbed and unhappy individual. It is very hard for me to respect a doormat woman. That she could show such physical courage as to descending to the depth she did, yet so little spine to assert herself is bitterly ironic. She was not a fighter, a survivor. I agree with Serra: I think when she found out the tank was empty, knowing who was in charge of it, she simply gave up. Holding on to the sled with both hands doing nothing, waiting for death.
I never knew her and what I learned made me lose a lot of respect for her. Still. So sad.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Because It's INTERESTING
"Sea snakes have astonishing aquatic adaptations, like valved nostrils to seal in air, lungs that can hold a breath for hours, and skin that flushes nitrogen to beat the bends, but they do have to surface to breathe once in a while."
From an article by Daniel Duane in National Geographic's adventure, September 2005.
From an article by Daniel Duane in National Geographic's adventure, September 2005.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Perspective
From the AC360 Blog and without its permission:
Gary Tuchman
AC360° Correspondent
What a juxtaposition! I’m in an Anchorage, Alaska restaurant where the McCain-Palin viewing party is taking place. Sarah Palin’s lieutenant governor is here (the man who would have taken her place as governor if she won); so are other Republican officials.
At the moment the big screen TV projection was made by CNN of Barack Obama winning the race, there was silence; a certain and palpable sense of awe at the historic nature of the moment. But it lasted for a very short time. People began to ignore the TV; a GOP official spoke to the hundreds in the restaurant about the great job that all the Republican staffers and volunteers did in Alaska. And life went on.
Gary Tuchman
AC360° Correspondent
What a juxtaposition! I’m in an Anchorage, Alaska restaurant where the McCain-Palin viewing party is taking place. Sarah Palin’s lieutenant governor is here (the man who would have taken her place as governor if she won); so are other Republican officials.
At the moment the big screen TV projection was made by CNN of Barack Obama winning the race, there was silence; a certain and palpable sense of awe at the historic nature of the moment. But it lasted for a very short time. People began to ignore the TV; a GOP official spoke to the hundreds in the restaurant about the great job that all the Republican staffers and volunteers did in Alaska. And life went on.
Monday, November 03, 2008
Tomorrow
Tomorrow, Americans will make History. Will it be the history of a gigantic step forward or will it be the history of a nation bitterly divided?
I hope and pray.
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