Writer’s block… or not

I am going through a bit of a rough spot with my writing. I start writing something and stop after one or two paragraphs. I simply lose my inspiration. I write and delete, and write and delete and it all comes to nothing. Paper going into the trash. In the old days, I would write about my “downs” and also my “ups”, I would write just about everything. But I guess I’m a changed person; I’m having difficulty writing about anything. I used to write about useluss stuff, ficcion, reality, happy, sad, it didn’t matter. Now, I’m trying hard to write and nothing ever comes out.

Well, I AM writing this.

But even so it was not what I wanted to write about. I want to write about all the hurricane like feelings that I’m feeling. All that I feel: happy, sad, lonely, peaceful, angry, quiet, noisy, everything. And yet I write about my inability to write about all that I want to write.

I am sad, or maybe, sad is too strong a word. I’m melancholic. Yes, that’s it. Nostalgic about days long gone that will never return. And I’m also hopeful, for new days that are to come. I miss talking until my toungue fell off. I miss having a listener. And I am not sad. I just feel a bit down and nostalgic.

Friends tell me that I need to come out of my shell and go talk to people. And yet, I don’t want to come out of my shell. Meeting new people to me is not just a matter of “stepping out of my comfort zone”, it’s a huge effort on me and my emotions. Deep down I know that nothing bad will happen, but it’s such an energy drain that I just feel exhausted afterwards.

And yet all it takes to soothe me is one simple and soft touch.

Dreaming

Very, very short story written by yours truly. enjoy. ūüôā

As he entered the room he felt a chill run down his spine, like someone had just danced over his grave. The room was a dark and eerie place, dust and cobwebs everywhere, but apart from that, everything was still in its original place; time has stopped flowing here a long time ago. Small vegetation started to grow in between the cracks on the floor, on the left wall there was a huge crack, top to bottom, from where the large roots of an ancient tree crept through. The air was stuffy but chilly at the same time, there was this energy flowing that one could not exactly pinpoint.
He kept on exploring the room, trying to figure out where he was. He had woken up here with just a flashlight, a knife and remembered nothing about getting here. How did he get here? What was this place? He remembered walking down a new path in the forest yesterday, or was it some time ago? What day is this? He knows it’s night time, the full moon in a clear sky is shining a lot of light through the windows.

Old furniture scattered around the big room, a big dining table, some chairs, candle sticks. Everything ready for a big dinner party; But, nothing else that indicates signs of life.

Suddenly, there’s a noise coming from the next room. Sound like a door, opening and closing. He quickly turns off the flashlight and finds a hiding spot behind the massive roots of the tree. Another clicking sound and the door opens revealing someone looking around into the room as if searching for something. He tries to make out who or what it is, but he can only see a shadowy figure on the doorway.

The door closes again and after a few minutes later he decides to leave his hiding spot. “So, this door is unlocked. I need to find out where I am. What the hell has happened to me” – he thinks to himself. At first, he peeks through the key hole to see what’s on the other side of the door, but it’s too dark and he doesn’t dare using the flashlight.
He tentatively opens the door and sees a long corridor that ends in two doors, one on each side. Large windows along the corridor cast out shadows from the bright moonlight. He starts walking and as he looks outside he sees the same figure as before walking away towards what looks like an old crypt or mausoleum. As he reaches the doors, he checks both. The one on the left leads outside to a path on the garden that clearly heads to the crypt he saw, while the door on the right leads to another room which looks like some sort of atrium with small tables and dresses around the walls. Two other doors can be seen, one opposite and the other to the left.
He can’t go outside, that person or whatever it is might be dangerous, so he chooses the atrium. But that leads to more doors, and who knows what else.

He opens the door in front and it’s another corridor while the door on the left leads to a big leaving room with a huge piano on one corner, a fireplace in the wall in front, some big chairs and a big oval table in the middle of the room. This room has no windows, but it has a big skylight on the ceiling letting a lot of light come through. There is another door to the left. He starts walking towards it and suddenly the lights are turned on.

The dust and the cobwebs disappear instantaneously, everything is spotless. He’s stopped in the middle of a brightly lit room, alone (he thinks), looking around. This can’t be right! Everything was old and covered in dust and now it’s sparkling clean! And who turned on the lights?

What the hell is going on here? Where am I?

Footsteps… Growing louder… His heart starts racing. Felling a cold sweat and an adrenaline rush he looks around for a hiding spot. as the sounds become louder he starts hearing some sort of music in the distance. He hides behind a big chair in the corner. The music is getting louder, it’s strangely familiar. The footsteps stop. There’s a clicking sound. The door opens…

He opens is eyes, sweating and sits up on the bed. To his right the alarm clock is playing the “wake up” music. Perplexed he thinks:
“What a fucking strange dream”

Harbourship

As I listen to this music, I write about it; it speaks of a journey somewhere in time and space. The destination is not important, neither is the starting point. What matters is the journey in itself; the tranquility, the scenery. As you listen to the music, close your eyes and try to imagine a journey for your self. Embark on the harbourship and let yourself flow in space and time within your own imagination.

If this music can make you close your eyes and imagine yourself in a voyage then it has succeeded in it’s purpose.¬†And if not, then all is right just the same; there is no wrong. Each one of us has his/her own feelings and emotions and that diversity is what makes us unique. Each and every one of us.

The day’s events

Not much has happened today. As with the most of my days recently, nothing really happens. I wake up, go to work, work a bit, have lunch, continue working, have tea, work some more and go home. At home, cook dinner for two, cuddle, eat dinner, play some games with friends and go to bed.

This is, for many, a pretty boring life. For me… well, I kinda like it. I am extremely bored and tired of my work; actually I’m kind of depressed about it, but without the downers, I’m more of the apathetic kind. Not a bad thing, but not a good one either. Of my actual project, I’ve done very little, there is not much to do actually, specially since this project is probably going down the drain (a pretty little speculation of mine). Anyway, I’m not getting into the who and what and why right now; that will be probably for another day.

So what have I been doing these last months? One might ask.. I have been working on personal projects, and some other stuff for my old team. I am quite content, since I’m studying and learning new things, developing new stuff and it feels quite good.

But honestly, what do I need? I need to do stuff that I like, but also stuff that matters. I need to be paid in accordance to what I do and not according to some shitty table that someone invented.

Linguistics… Go.!

I AM HAPPY AT MY JOB. I RECEIVE A LOT OF MONEY FOR MY JOB. I AM FULLY RECOGNIZED IN WHAT I DO.

 

The Holocaust

Today is the International Holocaust Remembrance Day.

According to the News, Wikipedia, Books, Newspapers, Magazines and almost everything else the Holocaust was the genocide of an estimated 6 million Jews, 1 million Gypsies, 250,000 mentally and physically disabled people, and 9,000 homosexual men by the Nazi regime.

Even though I agree that such a thing should not be forgotten, why do we not remember other horrific events that happened during that time period?

Are we saying with this that the Germans were the only “bad guys” in that war? Do not misunderstand me, what the Germans did was pure cruelty; but on the other hand, so was the two atomic bombings by the Americans, so was the use of Gulags by the Russians, so is the occupation of Palestinian territories by Israel under the excuse of the Bible and the Holocaust; Yes, Israel as we know it today was born out of WWII. There is no innocent party involved in the second world war. I’m talking about leaders, generals, politicians, etc. They are all guilty of committing crimes against humanity.

In having said this, I remember this day as the World War II remembrance day, and not just the holocaust.

Tomorrow is friday.

No, of course it’s not friday tomorrow, but if i keep on saying it, someday it will be friday.

For a long time I have written; a lot. I would write about how I felt or about some opinion I had, or even some random gibberish; it was kind of cathartic. For some reason I’ve stopped writing my own blog or my personal notepad or anything. I don’t care what made me stop writing, I’ve simply wanted to stop, and I did.

Now I’m trying to resume my writing, and when I say “trying” I mean it. I’m not making any effort and again, I have no reason whatsoever beyond the “I feel like it”.

My days at work are becoming more and more boring. I have very little left to do, maybe I will even try to start a short novel based on my life at the company I work, alas, a highly romanticized version of it.

We’ll see how this goes.

Rebooting

This is a first post of my renewed blog. I have decided to re-start this blog here since this way I have more control over it.

I have also decided to write something to celebrate the reboot of my blog.

OH.. did I mention that I started that blog back in 2003? Yeeess, that’s right. Eleven years down that road.

But, anyways. I’ve decided to write this, because… Reasons..!!

Soo. It’s friday, the weekend starts today, which means, two days off work.. Yipeeee..

 

Aaah, f** it.

See y’all later.

Legumes “al aglio”

No meu entender este prato d√° um belo acompanhamento de Salm√£o Grelhado, juntamente com umas batatas cozidas.

Ingredientes:

  • Alho Franc√™s
  • Cenouras
  • Uma Cabe√ßa de Alho
  • Azeite

Nota: Pode-se utilizar alho francê e cenouras frescos ou então existem nos supermercados uns pacotes de legumes já cortados, sendo neste caso com alho francês e cenoura.

Como fazer:
Cozem-se os legumes (de preferência a vapor).
Quando os legumes estiverem cozidos, deita-se azeite suficiente para cobrir o fundo de uma frigideira grande, cortam-se os dentes de alho às rodelas e deixa-se alourar no azeite. Em seguida despejam-se os legumes misturando bem com o alho.
Deixa-se a refogar at√© estarem tostados “et voil√°”.

Crise… ou n√£o?

Anda a popula√ßa toda indignada com as medidas que o governo est√° a tomar; a subida dos impostos e os impostos extra, o apoio que o governo est√° a dar aos seus “amigos”, a continuidade das despesas astron√≥micas e absurdas, etc. Fala-se mal deste e daquele no “feicebuque”, critica-se, chama-se ladr√£o a fulano e cicrano, fazem-se manifesta√ß√Ķes. Infelizmente pouco mais se faz do que isto.
Portanto, let me get this right: o governo que est√° actualmente a fazer esta merda toda, est√° l√° porque n√≥s, os eleitores, vot√°mos neles, certo? √Č que at√© os abstencionistas contribuiram para colocar l√° o PPC. Um n√£o voto, n√£o √© a mesma coisa que um voto em branco. Isso apenas teria impacto, talvez, se houvesse uma taxa de absten√ß√£o de 100% em vez de haver uma parca maioria em que apenas metade dos eleitores votaram.
Manifesta√ß√Ķes, sim, claro temos esse direito e acho que fazemos muito bem em nos manifestarmos, mas pergunto eu: “Ser√° que tem algum efeito?”; aparentemente n√£o. Segundo consta, s√≥ na avenida dos aliados no Porto foram pelo menos 50000 pessoas. Toda gente grita, rabuja, refila, grita, cantam can√ß√Ķes reaccion√°rias, postam piadas idiotas na net, queixam-se que o primeiro ministro √© isto ou aquilo, mas de facto, ac√ß√Ķes ou atitudes que tenham impacto poucas h√°. Claro que √© mera especula√ß√£o da minha parte, mas tudo me leva a crer que enquanto as pessoas estavam nas ruas de v√°rias cidades do Pa√≠s, o primeiro ministro e respectivo governo/amigos estavam confortavelmente a rir-se de tudo; “olhem-me para estes palha√ßos, n√≥s fazemos o que queremos e bem nos apetece e esta cambada apenas vai para a rua gritar”.
“Sim, claro, deve ser chato ir √° net e ver montanhas de fotografias minhas a chamar-me tudo menos pai, mas enquanto isso eu vou enchendo o bolso; o meu e o dos meus amigos.”

Recentemente vi uma atitude que admiro, sim, essa foi uma atitude que poderá ter algum impacto (ou não); a escritora Maria Teresa Horta foi nomeada para receber um prémio literário, mas ao saber que este iria ser entregue pelo primeiro-ministro recusou-se a receber o prémio. Aplaudo esta atitude.

Pergunto-me a mim pr√≥prio o que poderei eu fazer para mudar o estado das coisas. Posso dedicar-me √† pol√≠tica, mas creio que n√£o teria grande sucesso (sim, eu sei que estou a ser derrotista). Posso estar redondamente enganado, mas acredito que n√£o √© o governo que manda neste Pa√≠s (ou em qualquer outro Pa√≠s), quem realmente puxa os cordelinhos s√£o os grandes “bar√Ķes” empresariais. Quem realmente manda √© quem tem muito dinheiro/poder. E h√° sempre a t√°tica habitual de chutar para canto: “Eu n√£o sei de nada, o governo anterior √© que nos deixou neste estado!”. Porra, n√£o estavam l√° quando o governo anterior “supostamente” esteve a fazer asneiras? N√£o poderiam ter impedido isto?

Por isto tudo e muito mais eu pergunto: Que direito t√™m os pol√≠ticos de ganhar bal√ļrdios e ter todas as regalias que actualmente possuem? Ah e tal, governar o Pa√≠s √© um cargo que d√° muito trabalho. Sim, concordo, √© muita responsabilidade e d√° muito trabalho, mas isso seria se estivessem a fazer um bom trabalho, seja como governantes ou como oposi√ß√£o.

Entretanto, creio que a febre das manifs já está para acabar, já começou a casa dos segredos. Além disso, há sempre o alcóol e a droga (de acordo com um estudo efectuado a taxa de viciados aumentou por causa da crise). Pois, não há dinheiro para comprar comida e pagar a renda, a vida está uma merda, vou mas é gastar o que me sobra na pinga ou na droga.

Geek Girls…

After seeing this and reading this i decided to go back to a subject wich i wrote about some time ago; Being a Geek. Basically i wrote about the “geek is the new chique” thing and how it confuses me.
Having come across the subject of “feminist geeks” i do have to wonder how the need to belong is so rampant on human beings. Everyone needs to belong somewhere. The hipsters need to feel they belong amongst the hipster community, the geeks with the geeks, the intellectuals with the intellectuals, and so on, and that’s all perfectly fine by me; for instance, I need to feel i belong amongst the people i love and that love me back.
The plot just “thickens” when i start seeing people trying to belong somewhere they clearly don’t like just for the sake of it being cool. I do know it’s none of my busyness what everyone else does, but come on, seriously? Grow a brain will ya?
But i’m straying from the subject.
Geek feminists, what are they? According to what I could understand, they are just feminists who happen to be geeks also (men and women). So, basically they defend equal rights for women in a technological world, predominantly male (or so many think). Even though I agree that all men and women should have the same rights and opportunites (and that goes along with duties), I don’t like to think I’m a feminist; I prefer to think myself as a “lifeist”, because i think that all life forms deserve the same respect. Obvsiously there are differences between the male and female counter-parts of the human animal, and not only physical and genetic ones. Women have different thought processes; not better nor worse, just different. Most women deal with emotions in a very different way than most men; again, not worse or better.
So, the main complaint of both Nixie Pixel and Nice Girl is that they were “mistreated” (to say the least) in an Open Source Convention. They are absolutely right to complain, if I was in their shoes, I would probably raise hell. What I honestly don’t get is the whole “geek feminist” thing. The “you’re sexualizing the conference through your attire”. WTF? What, a geek girl can’t be sensual? Can’t a women wear a sexy dress withouth being called a “slut”? What if a man geek showed up like a “sexy as hell piece of hunk”? Would he be trashed also?
I am a software engineer going on 40 who loves everything computer; I love gaming, I play online with my daughter almost every day, I love programming ever since I touched my first ZX81. People who don’t know me may call me a geek, but I don’t consider myself to be a geek and never have; the truth is, I never really cared what label people put on me.
Throughout my life I’ve seen the “geeks” raise to the status of “coolness”. The geeks I remember from my childhood where usually withdrawned persons, almost anti-social, highly inteligent but usually with low emotional intelligence (no comments on the attire as it is everyone’s personal choice). A few years ago I started seeing “geeks” opening up, having a life away the computer screens, conventions started being big social events instead of “just for the nerds”. And I honestly liked that, it’s a good change, evolution whatever you want to call it.
I mentioned that I play a lot of computer games with my daughter. Yes, it’s true, we play co-op war games, tactical games, mind games you name it. One of the things I like the most is when we’re playing a multiplayer game like Sniper Elite v2, we’re basically kicking ass and everybody start cussing for being killed to many times. That’s when I come in and say “be more respectful to a lady”; the language changes almost instantly. Everybody stays in shock for a bit. Why is it so difficult to believe that girls also play video games? And why do some gamers/geeks/whatever stamp down on girl gamers that are also pretty (basically women).

I think I’ve digressed too much. Nixie Pixel and Nice Girl: It’s good to see people like you on this boring geek world.