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Of Blood, doctors and pseudo-gods

Tomorrow I have an appointment with some doctor. A... *goes and checks*  haematologist, that's the word. 

Apparently I might have something in my blood. I was caressing the idea of it being the mutant factor, and that I was about to acquire some new brand superpower -I've always had a penchant for invisivility and teleportation, I must confess.

But against all odds, it's not that. It's got something to do with protein C, hormones and risk of coagulation when and where less needed. So, I'm finally going tomorrow.

The thing, which started the whole episode by the way, is that, well, that I don't like people acompanying me when I go to the doctor. I don't really know why. I have an approximate idea, though. I suspect I might feel braver than I do when going alone. If someone comes along, I don't know, it's like the thing is worse than it is, or perhaps I can comment on the issue, thus adding nerves (while I'm never scared of going if needed, I don't really like doctors, particularly waiting rooms. I hate them).

But well, that's what I am. Although, apparently, I'm not allowed. 

I had the most unbeliavable confontation this afternoon. I was talking to this person, who thinks that I should go with someone to the doctor. But not for this, but for everything, even if it's to extend a recipe for some pills and nothing more.  I tried to explain all of the above -for the 9868745th time-, but it was pointless. I was doing things wrong.

Which made me wonder.

Some people seem to think that the rest of mankind was made in their own image and likeness. I thought that was God, but who knows, I might be outdated. And on matters than affect them little to nothing, which is what really amazes me.  It's like when my I was younger and my mum didn't like how I answered the phone, or how I was more comfortable eating and doing other things with my left hand instead of the right one.  I mean.

I had a friend that once got bitter with me for weeks because I didn't pick the dress she had thought better, instead of the monstruosity I had chosen (verbatim). An old professor of mine never forgave me for choosing education instead of  Law.

My take is that, sometimes, people are unable of really discern when their noses are too far ahead of them. It's either that, or they really believe that something like too far does not exist, and so they feel ofended when you do things in a different way from what they expect of you.  

And this alone deserves another couple of entries, so I'll leave it here.

On Job Interviews and Hair-Covered Floors.


After being put through this path all over again, I think I am in a position of wisdom to state that finding a job is not only a tiring, draining and all-consuming experience, but an entirely different subworld, rules and races included.

Unfortunately -or fortunately, still deciding- for me and my plans and my dreams, I am very stubborn concerning job issues. So even if teaching is one of the careers with the most discouraging levels of unemployement out there -especially where I live, the province with the highest rate of unemployment of Europe-  I'm still aiming to work in what I love doing.  I guess it's just because the time of utter desperation hasn't properly come yet, although I can smell it, not that far away.

So, I spent the morning sending CV's. One of the schools I've put my eye on is a private posh one. Had any of you known me in real life, would be blinking repeatedly. What?? You absolutely hate private schools! You already ARE utterly desperate, love.

And perhaps that's the truth, I'm afraid. But well, I've been thinking a lot about that lately. I spent half my life in private schools -the other half not, thank god. And while in one of them girls where so scarce that we were treated like porcelaine, one can suffer a lot if you don't really belong there. Perhaps you can afford it -although we are not anywhere rich, in case you're wondering after reading how that came out, lol-, but then again, private schools are also a subworld, a truly horrible one if you are just yourself, and your character and the human being you are becoming matters to you more than status or any new clothes you've bought that day.

So, in a brilliant flash of inspiration a la Newton, just the other day I realised that, perhaps, I can do good things in private schools, just because I know them from inside. I don't like how oppressed children feel, or how they are bullied if they aren't standard fit, and feel different from the rest. Been there, actually. So, I thought, I can try.

And that's how I ended in their online site, sending my CV.  Not only they ask about everything -for a moment I thought I was going to be asked about my nursery school marks, imagine- but the selection process is amazing. In the end, if I pass 874867 tests and more, I'll have to do three interviews. Three.

And well, whereas I kind of agree with teaching being a matter of dedication and therefore, not testable though, well, tests alone, job interviews deserve another couple of posts by themselves. I am no part of the population confident enough to face an interview, a situation in which you are evaluated and you know it, without losing sleep, hair and selfconfidence. So I googled it, you know, in search of inspiration.

Bad idea. 

I mean, how can anyone pay attention to everything they want you to pay attention and have a successful duel without dropping dead??? This amount of stress before even getting the job surely has to be a bad sign.

Just reading has been exhausting:

Interview Etiquette Before the Interview

  1. Nails should be clean and trimmed.  Don't they always? Mm..

  2. Be conservative and err on the side of caution.  If the company does not have a dress code, remember that its better to overdress than underdress.   Ok, I'm not going to appear in converses -I wish- but I've read that jackets are a must. I hope a nice blouse does the trick too, honestly.  
  3. Don't assume that whoever greets you is the receptionist. Well, I'm confused about this one, but I want to think that it has to do more with you not starting your sweetalk too soon rather than others not deserving your goodmornings if they're not employers...

  4. Dress tips: Do not wear extremely high-heeled or platform shoes Really? So no wedding shoes?
    Conservative hosiery at or near skin color (and no runs!) No runs? NO way.
    If you wear nail polish (not required), use clear or a conservative color. Was this really necessary to suggest? I mean, I don't think anyone would think green nails are a brilliant idea for a job interview. Although this is a strange world, so...
    Conservative makeup
    Conservative formal dress and jacket
    No heavy cologne

  5. OK, I get it. CONSERVATIVE. Problem is, I'm not that conservative, so I'll have to do some training with that. And last but not least:

  6. Your hair should be clean and combed. 

Hair? What hair? After all the pre-interview stress, I seriously doubt I'll have one lock left on my head by the time the actual day arrives.

And I haven't talked about the actual interview... *sighs*

~ Bela




Mmmm...*looks down* Nope. Not nearly enough 

I'm sorry, I just HAD to... :(

I'm so shocked that I can't really post anything coherent. It's been two days and I'm still between shocked and a feeling this deep sadness I can't comprehend, and surely didn't expect. 

I liked him, I loved his works,  but never I had imagined I was going to be this affected by his death... not that his death was something I had expected to see, anyway. I don't even want to think of Michelle. Or for some reason, Jake. I still can't believe it. I mean, I read it and I see the words DEAD following HEATH LEDGER, but still my brain doesn't want to get it.  

To the fucking idiots that had been laughing at normal people crying over a person we never knew in life, please just watch Daniel Day Lewis talking to Oprah, and then fuck off.  Apparently there are many people with more room in their hearts for others than you have. 

To those lunatics staining the name "christian", I'm sure the rest of the world pick up burning forever in Hell over being,even for a second, in a Heaven full of disgusting creatures like you.  Bunch of bastards.

Heath...rest in peace, sweetheart.

The Hole

(And angry for being enraged, and guilty for being angry...)
Have you ever felt such amount of supressed anger and dangerous thoughts that you look all calm about the situation, but just because it's like the anger is stuck at the exit?
I am. So let me tell you a story in the meantime I don't dress and go to spread an accidental fire.
My relationship with Correos -spanish Post Office- started at the tender age of ten, when we moved in here from Ceuta. I used to write my friends. Centuries later, I still write to my friends, and some others I've been finding along the way.
As you can imagine, with all the money I've spend through the years, Correos must have built up ten offices, put twenty mailboxes and bought 3 motorbikes.   I've been a good customer for years, religiously paying for the last stamp.
The thing is that all this Hole issue started a couple of years ago.
March 2006.- I send an express parcel, that never arrived. It most probably got lost in translation or in the quick hands of someone who felt nosey that day. But well, let's face it, Correos is far from perfection, and quick-handed people are scattered everywhere.

Correos=1 BeLa=0

December 2006.- One of my cousins informs me that the parcel I sent her hasn't arrived. Obviously, I start to suspect, but we decide to wait a bit more. We all know how well Correos works *cough* in Christmas.
To this day, the package is still missing.

Correos=2  BeLa=0 

November 2007.- Another letter to my latvian friend is suspiciously late too. The poor thing just emailed me telling me she's going to start hers, since it's clear mine is NOT going to appear this time either.
Correos=3 BeLa=0  
July 2007.- I send a letter to a friend from Riga, Latvia, and to another person, from London. I can't confirm the London one, but the other seem to be taking an awful amount of time. The letter never arrives.

Correos=4  BeLa=0

Just today.- A parcel I sent last December 5th, an important one to me, is missing. They can't really tell me what happened with it for sure. I mean, how?? There's no one in charge who takes responsabilities?? 
 I don't start crying and/or swearing only because the woman has been nice and I don't really like public shows.
Correos=5  BeLa=0
So, what I basically want to say is:


At this moment I have several non-confirmed theories:

a) There is some kind of Post Office Mysterious Hole that eats people's things from time to time, and my things just happen to be especially sensible to Post Office Holes.

b) People has long hands and short shame. If they have some at all, this is.

c) In an alternative universe and/or past life, I was one of those long-handed and short-shamed post office people, and now I'm paying for it.

d) All the formers are correct.

Really, how frustrating. Perhaps the key to all this is just losing manners and shouting like a mad cow in the middle of the Office, because they don't pay the slightest attention otherwise.

But what do we do, the ones that don't know -or don't want, because really- how to be like that? Apart from having satanic thoughts involving Correos and a serie of spontaneous combustions, I mean.

Ok, I'll better go and take a walk or something, since I'm about to break for good my first New Year Resolution.

And January it's not even over. 


BeLa x

Today. 7:30 pm. I'm home alone. The phone rings.

-Riiiing, riiiiiiing

Me: Hello?

Unidentified Speaking Object: *shouting*  JUAN??

Me: I'm sorry sir, I think you got the number wrong. *All of this pronouncing m's like b's due to lack of air passing through one's nose*

USO: *a little louder* JUAN, IT'S YOU???

Me: No, it's not Juan. I'm afraid yo-- 


Me:*starts to feel a little uneasy* Excuse me? 


Me:*between flabbergasted and not really understanding when the situation got out of control*  Sir, I'm NOT Juan, you called to the wrong number!


Me: *relieved* No, I'm not Juan.


Me: *finally loses her cool and falls into the madness* Listen, I'm NOT Tony! Nor Juan! And actually I'm a GIRL!


Me: *breathing hard, on adrenaline* Yessss.

USO: WHO ARE YOU? *demanding tone that suggests I'm most likely some burglar inside Juan's house that accidentally picked up the phone*


USO: *against all odds, silence on t he other side* I DIALED THE WRONG NUMBER, THEN??

Me: Yes, sir, you dialed the wrong number.

USO: *the voice fades, like he has removed the phone from his ear* FUCK, THIS CALL HAS COST ME A FORTUNE, FUCKING MOBILE....blablabla.

Me: O_O

Once I took a couple of deep breaths *euphemism* , I almost choke on my own laughing, lol. Poor man, so stressed over the chicken at their aunt's...

Later, my friend Meri asked me why I hadn't hung up at the first evidence of madness. And risk him calling again and starting all over?? Mm...no, thank you.

Christmas rush is a very dangerous thing. 

Bela ~

PS: Although, now that I think of it, I don't sound exactly like a girl these days. Mmm.

Of Colds, Nebuloses and Brains.


The moment I open my mouth to congratulate myself for not having got sick so far, the spell breaks, and here I am, with a senior Cold, in caps.

What am I doing typing here, is the question. I should be in bed, I know, because I feel like my arms weight a ton each. But in the immortal words of my brother, I'm a stubborn cow. I don't think I am, though. It's just that I HATE being ill. Apart from minor things, I'm almost never sick -this is, until I open my big mouth and acknowledge the fact- so perhaps it's just lack of habit...don't know. But I do know I hate not being able to speak without coughing, or hearing my voice and picture a 6 feet nordic fisherman called Jürgen, or having no taste sense, or feeling dizzy just by standing up to go to the toilet.  

But I guess that what I really hate are the first days of a cold, when you feel surrounded by this nebulose, and everything seems surreal. The worse thing is that my brain picks up on it, and then the most surreal thoughts and conversations come out of it. See, I just spoke to a friend. He had called to ask about a present for his girlfriend. Somehow I've ended talking about women jewellery in ancient Greece. "Have you been drinking?", he asked me after a while, laughing like mad. No, but feels a lot like being tipsy, lol.

Doesn't it happen to you?  At risk of sounding like a spawn of satan, I love it when my brother has got temperature, lol. Not that I want him to have it, you know. It's just that he's HILARIOUS when he's in that hazy state. The same I'm in now, minus the temperature -luckily I almost never have, but let's pretend I haven't opened my mouth to say it...).

 Tomorrow I'll still feel like crap, but I will be doing normal things again at least.

Perhaps I'll rant a little more later, but now I'm off to rest for a while.

Have a nice day!

The Christmas Spirit on vacation --


Mr. Albert

It's no secret that I am utterly and totally in love with Albert Einstein.

My love-admiration relationship with this amazing man started when I was...mmm...almost 15. One day, reading quotes somewhere, I found one that left me thinking for a while. I was so impressed by it, that I clearly remember thinking that, whoever was the owner of those words, he/she was the wisest person ever:

"I don't know what weapons will be used in World War III, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones" 

I had heard of Albert Einstein before, but just the basics, and a few pics. So, to my 14 year old self, that quote was like discovering fire. Because it was a rare mixture of wisdom, thoughtfulness, understanding of the world, and a hinted fine sense of humour that I had not found before. Years later, I'm convinced that he should have been cloned, flaws and all, several times.

The only thing I really understand of his infamous theory is the meaning of the words 'theory' and 'relativity', although it's true that I have never tried to read what it is about (it would be a waste of time, my mind just does not compute physhics).

But to the point.  There's this infamous riddle that was alledgedly his, although I'm not sure. Anyway, I never tried to solve it, out of laziness and fear of discovering I can't, I suppose.

But tonight I did, and well, it took me my good 15 minutes, but I made it. The rumour that only 2% of the population of the world can solve it perhaps was true somewhere at the beginning of the last century, but not anymore, I think. At least I honestly think it's easily solved, if you give it a try.

Are you up for the challenge?  Who owns the fish?

Einstein's Riddle

PS: By the way, there's some polemic with semantics: the fish vs. a fish. Almost everywhere it's with THE.. because if it was with A, the solution would be even rarer...and simpler.

Writer's Block: Happy Halloween!

How did I spend Halloween you say?

At home, in my pajamas, with my computer, lol. 

We don't celebrate Halloween here, except from some pseudo-parties in schools, where children wear their costumes and all. 

So, just another day.  In fact, today being the All Saints day it's going to be a really boring one. 

PS: But I bought Halloween treats for me, of course... ;)
Boo! How did you celebrate Halloween?


 That's how I look like today. 

This morning I was planing to go to the gym and to the oculist and to everywhere. But when I set the alarm off, I noticed something odd, around the neck and upper back. 

And now I look like a haughty royal member, with a stiff neck and back who would put to shame any Queen fromt eh past, lol. 

It's uncomfortable as hell, but perhaps I'll take a picture of my regal look. It seems to hurt a lot less if I mock it...

Why I Hate People. Reason # 598

In spite of loving the human contact and the human social habits and the human mind and the human everything, I don't really like people.

Yes, I'm aware that I can't generalize and I don't really know all the people in the world, so drop your stones and sticks where I can see them. I'm not talking about every single one of them, of course. I'm talking about that portion of mankind that I wouldn't mind to see extinct int he name of the common welfare. (Notice how I made a distinction between the words 'people' and 'human'.) The portion of mankind with no manners, no respect of others, and a sense of Heaven Given superiority that makes me sick.

Reason # 598:

I walk into a shop. I randomly go through the place, a t shirt here, a jumper there. I approach a table full of shirts. I take one in my hands. Suddenly, I'm pushed aside by Queen of Sheba I, who takes another a shirt like mine, discards it like it's infected, and then walks towards another bunch of things. In her way out, she walks by some clothing who has been dropped to the floor by other 681574 Queens of Sheba. She looks down, realizes that it's a shirt what she has set foot on, kicks the thing further, and merrily continues with her life.

An elbow on my ribs takes me out of my musings. Queen of Sheba II has decided that I am made of thin air, and when I kind of make an 'ouch' gesture, she looks at me like I just insulted her familiy, then looks at my feet, and starts to revolve the shirts.

Not wanting to risk my spine, I leave. In my way out, I take off the floor the shirt that Queen I, and others after her, discarded, suddenly wanting desperatedly to go home and stay there for a long, long time.