While my Muse gets to see the World (she actually sent a letter yesterday saying she is not planning to come back any time soon) I carry on with my routine: Class, Interviews, TV... I am seriously starting to think that if I really want to find a job I have to step out of my comfort zone and start looking for the unexpected.
This morning, I was lost in such thoughts about the job market when I read an email from a friend, and she made me feel a little less alone. "Mal de muchos, consuelo de tontos" which means that if a bad thing happens to a lot of people, it feels less bad somehow. Sorry but I am no translator, so if anyone has any suggestions on how to translate this saying, I accept any kind of help.
The email had this link attached:
http://video.nytimes.com/video/2009/04/17/business/1194839618058/life-after-wharton.html?ref=business
I deffinetely feel less alone.
Thanks Lu. I think we should keep looking though, things don't usually happen if you just sit around and wait for them to actually happen.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Muse on Hiatus
My creativity seems to work just like TV shows, and right now she's on hiatus. Still don't know for how long since she never tells me when she plans to show up, but she's been gone for almost two weeks now, and I'm starting to be a little angry at her.
Maybe it's time to fire my muse and hire a new one.
Maybe it's time to fire my muse and hire a new one.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
What if?
Today I'm going to entertain you with some very random story that I came up with a couple of seconds ago. And I know my friends already think I write very weird stuff, and that I seem to have no shame for letting everyone read it, but I really enjoy this, so I'll keep doing it for as long as I have something (no matter how stupid) to write.
So everyday at about eight o'clock we have to take the trash out to a small room in the common hallway of our floor in our apartment block (is the description clear enough? hope so :P). I hate to do it, but it has to be done, and while my mom does it if she's at home, when she is not it is me who does it, even if I'm wearing my PJs and my face covered in green cream and my sister is perfectly well dressed cause she just arrived home... the trash room is seven steps away for any apartment in the floor, so it takes like ten seconds to take the trash out. Really easy. That's why I never take the keys with me, why should I? I'll be home in ten seconds right?
So here comes the "what if" randomness: What if one of those days I take the trash out when nobody else is home the door locks accidentally behind me? just today I was wearing my Miffy PJs and walking barefoot through the common hall. What if there was some kind of air draft that locked the door? I could picture my self taking the lift to the bottom floor, walking across the huge porch to the entrance of the three-building complex and asking the doorman for our spare keys. That's when I decided I'm going to start taking my keys with me next time I have to take out the trash.
Things happen, you know?
Fyi, this is Miffy, created by Dick Bruna: http://www.miffy.com (just in case someone sues me for using pictures that are not my own on this blog- better safe than sorry!).
So everyday at about eight o'clock we have to take the trash out to a small room in the common hallway of our floor in our apartment block (is the description clear enough? hope so :P). I hate to do it, but it has to be done, and while my mom does it if she's at home, when she is not it is me who does it, even if I'm wearing my PJs and my face covered in green cream and my sister is perfectly well dressed cause she just arrived home... the trash room is seven steps away for any apartment in the floor, so it takes like ten seconds to take the trash out. Really easy. That's why I never take the keys with me, why should I? I'll be home in ten seconds right?
So here comes the "what if" randomness: What if one of those days I take the trash out when nobody else is home the door locks accidentally behind me? just today I was wearing my Miffy PJs and walking barefoot through the common hall. What if there was some kind of air draft that locked the door? I could picture my self taking the lift to the bottom floor, walking across the huge porch to the entrance of the three-building complex and asking the doorman for our spare keys. That's when I decided I'm going to start taking my keys with me next time I have to take out the trash.
Things happen, you know?
Fyi, this is Miffy, created by Dick Bruna: http://www.miffy.com (just in case someone sues me for using pictures that are not my own on this blog- better safe than sorry!).
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Third post of the day, what this blog is NOT
My dearest sister,
Thank you for becoming a follower, actually I should be thanking myself for making you a gmail account thus enabling you access to the comments on this blog. You have been quite useless on the process and therefore I will not abide to your rules regarding my blog.
This is, after all, my blog, and even if you just pointed out the commas should be in a different place, I will keep them where they are, since this is, after all, my blog.
This blog is not the place where I consistently prove the world how absurd you can be at times.
This is not the place where your achievements are recognised (see Parents, a comparative study to understand the meaning of achievement in this context).
This is not the place that's going to turn you into an online phenomenon.
This is my blog, and I fill it with my own ramblings. The fact that you are an important part of them only proves one thing: You are a trustworthy source of humour, and not because you chose to be so, but because you provide me with anecdotes unconciously.
I thank you for being one of my inspirations, my second follower and my beta reader, but please, let me take the credit for my writings.
Love,
your sister.
Thank you for becoming a follower, actually I should be thanking myself for making you a gmail account thus enabling you access to the comments on this blog. You have been quite useless on the process and therefore I will not abide to your rules regarding my blog.
This is, after all, my blog, and even if you just pointed out the commas should be in a different place, I will keep them where they are, since this is, after all, my blog.
This blog is not the place where I consistently prove the world how absurd you can be at times.
This is not the place where your achievements are recognised (see Parents, a comparative study to understand the meaning of achievement in this context).
This is not the place that's going to turn you into an online phenomenon.
This is my blog, and I fill it with my own ramblings. The fact that you are an important part of them only proves one thing: You are a trustworthy source of humour, and not because you chose to be so, but because you provide me with anecdotes unconciously.
I thank you for being one of my inspirations, my second follower and my beta reader, but please, let me take the credit for my writings.
Love,
your sister.
Requiem for a fish
And I was afraid I would have nothing to write and my blog would die little by little. I was sooo wrong.
It is sad, I can say almost tragic, but my fish died this afternoon. She was old, really old for a fish, at least 7 years old, and she was beautiful, shiny white with orange freckles, big eyes and round mouth, huge we thought, until we saw the size of the males of her species.
She even had a name. I still remember when we thought she was a he, till she laid eggs on our fish tank. She didn't move away from her soon to be kids while they matured. She bit any other fish that approached them, even the father... it was sad to see none of the eggs survive, but it has been even more sad to see her floating aimlessly on the fish tank, no shiny skin, her eyes opaque...
Sure she wasn't a dog or a cat (I would have been alergic to her in the second case), sure she didn't greet us happily everytime we got home, but alas she was our fish, and, believe it or not, we had grown very fond of her (and I should stop watching Pride and Prejudice if I ever want to speak current English and not XIXth century English).
This is my humble homage to our big fish, goodbye Jacinta
It is sad, I can say almost tragic, but my fish died this afternoon. She was old, really old for a fish, at least 7 years old, and she was beautiful, shiny white with orange freckles, big eyes and round mouth, huge we thought, until we saw the size of the males of her species.
She even had a name. I still remember when we thought she was a he, till she laid eggs on our fish tank. She didn't move away from her soon to be kids while they matured. She bit any other fish that approached them, even the father... it was sad to see none of the eggs survive, but it has been even more sad to see her floating aimlessly on the fish tank, no shiny skin, her eyes opaque...
Sure she wasn't a dog or a cat (I would have been alergic to her in the second case), sure she didn't greet us happily everytime we got home, but alas she was our fish, and, believe it or not, we had grown very fond of her (and I should stop watching Pride and Prejudice if I ever want to speak current English and not XIXth century English).
This is my humble homage to our big fish, goodbye Jacinta
Esoyarse en un majano
Before anyone wonders, the title of this post has little to do with its content, it's just a very fun way of saying: Fall on a pile of rocks (Remember what my sister did two Sundays ago? That's literally it).
But there is some metaphoric relation between the actual expression and my current situation. I'm afraid I may just fall on a pile of rocks very soon. I'm climbing it right now, and have started to find the climb exhausting, stressful and tense. If anyone wonders what the f*** I'm talking about I'll be clear about it: I'm looking for a job. I graduate in less than four months and I can't bear the idea of not having a plan after that, so looking for a job has become part of my daily routine. Applications, letters, tests, interviews, cases...
I think I'm doing fine, some of those interviews go well, others not so well, but still I have to learn how to say what the interviewer wants to hear, and that I can only achieve with practice. Some days I feel I'm doing more than well, I feel I'm doing excellent, so I wander what will happen when I get to the top of my pile of rocks... will I fall? will I stay there for a while? Is there a higher pile behind it?
Why don't we all have a crystal ball where we can have look at our future depending on our different decissions? Life would be a lot easier... Maybe a lot more boring too.
I like myself better when I write humorous posts but hey! Such is Life.
But there is some metaphoric relation between the actual expression and my current situation. I'm afraid I may just fall on a pile of rocks very soon. I'm climbing it right now, and have started to find the climb exhausting, stressful and tense. If anyone wonders what the f*** I'm talking about I'll be clear about it: I'm looking for a job. I graduate in less than four months and I can't bear the idea of not having a plan after that, so looking for a job has become part of my daily routine. Applications, letters, tests, interviews, cases...
I think I'm doing fine, some of those interviews go well, others not so well, but still I have to learn how to say what the interviewer wants to hear, and that I can only achieve with practice. Some days I feel I'm doing more than well, I feel I'm doing excellent, so I wander what will happen when I get to the top of my pile of rocks... will I fall? will I stay there for a while? Is there a higher pile behind it?
Why don't we all have a crystal ball where we can have look at our future depending on our different decissions? Life would be a lot easier... Maybe a lot more boring too.
I like myself better when I write humorous posts but hey! Such is Life.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Why people should never laugh at other people
Call this revenge if you want, but I can't live knowing the world ignores what happened last Sunday.
I have been really busy these past few days with Marielle's visit (who left this morning :( ) and I'll be gone all weekend, so I was starting to fear there would be no new posts on this blog for a long long time. Fortunately, my sister made me a priceless gift last Sunday, a gift that will prove that there's either something wrong with the Clemente siblings or just that we are all humans after all (and definitely not dancers -what a song!).
A couple of weeks ago I humbled myself by posting one of my very intelligent ideas (see The Parafilm Experiment for more details) today, sorry Bro, I'm going to tell you my sister's brilliant idea on Sunday.
As I said before, Marielle has been visiting us for a couple of days, on Sunday we decided to take her to Chinchon, a small town near Madrid. After lunch we took a walk, and decided to try some of the pastries we had bought. With a piece of pastry in her hand, my very curious (and I must add 26 yeared old) sister spots a small group of rocks, and decides it would be a good idea to climb on one of them (by climb I mean step on it, as the rock had the size of... let's say... my head). It is a shame that no one saw the actual fall, but it seems the rock moved and she fell in the middle of the massive group of rocks. She stood up as fast as she could, but the damage was done: A very scratched arm, a less scratched knee, a bruised leg and a pair of torn tights.
I really wish someone had taped it. People carry the mobile phones with them all the time and make videos of the most stupid stuff. This was not stupid stuff. This was hilarious.
Sorry again, bro, I had to tell the world. You laughed at me a few weeks ago, and now it's my turn. Revenge is best served cold... I only fear the consequences of my actions now...
I have been really busy these past few days with Marielle's visit (who left this morning :( ) and I'll be gone all weekend, so I was starting to fear there would be no new posts on this blog for a long long time. Fortunately, my sister made me a priceless gift last Sunday, a gift that will prove that there's either something wrong with the Clemente siblings or just that we are all humans after all (and definitely not dancers -what a song!).
A couple of weeks ago I humbled myself by posting one of my very intelligent ideas (see The Parafilm Experiment for more details) today, sorry Bro, I'm going to tell you my sister's brilliant idea on Sunday.
As I said before, Marielle has been visiting us for a couple of days, on Sunday we decided to take her to Chinchon, a small town near Madrid. After lunch we took a walk, and decided to try some of the pastries we had bought. With a piece of pastry in her hand, my very curious (and I must add 26 yeared old) sister spots a small group of rocks, and decides it would be a good idea to climb on one of them (by climb I mean step on it, as the rock had the size of... let's say... my head). It is a shame that no one saw the actual fall, but it seems the rock moved and she fell in the middle of the massive group of rocks. She stood up as fast as she could, but the damage was done: A very scratched arm, a less scratched knee, a bruised leg and a pair of torn tights.
I really wish someone had taped it. People carry the mobile phones with them all the time and make videos of the most stupid stuff. This was not stupid stuff. This was hilarious.
Sorry again, bro, I had to tell the world. You laughed at me a few weeks ago, and now it's my turn. Revenge is best served cold... I only fear the consequences of my actions now...
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