Thomas Concannon

In loving memory of Papaw...




I took this picture the day we met.
He was the person that made the biggest impact on me since I arrived to this country. He had lots of books and loved poetry and art.
His ancestor were Irish and he would always celebrate that. In fact you still can see both, USA and Ireland flags outside his house.
We could spend hours talking about literature, philosophy or politics.
He had a wonderful humor and loved telling jokes, bad jokes.
One of his favorite hobbies was writting quotes in small bussiness cards and in every visit he would make you read them. He never stoped teaching.
He loved music and used to say that music was the only form of comunication that could reach human souls clearly without being limited by the different languages, that even if a song was sang in an unknown idiom we could still get the message.
His favorite show was "West Wing" and he was proud that Martin Shean was from Dayton.
He loved Joan Baez voice and songs.
He knew every little bird and could tell you without mistake the name of any of them.
While he had enough air in his lungs he wouldn't let me go home without singing to me:

Come in the evening, or come in the morning;
Come when you’re look’d for, or come without warning:
Kisses and welcome you ’ll find here before you,
And the oftener you come here the more I ’ll adore you

When we met he told me: " I don't know what your intentions are here, but let me tell you one thing, I would love it if you became part of my family".
But most important of all: He always told me that he loved me and I was his favorite girl.
I will miss him so much, and I will need him yet more.

The autumn leaves

It’s finally here. I like this season because of the colors. The trees are going red, yellow and brown.
Temperature is good enough and I like the cracking noises of leaves under my feet.
The other day I went to a store to buy a few pots for my African Violets and all I could see was the stupid Halloween things all over the place.
I used to like holidays and that kind of stuff but everyday I like them less.
My husband says that these kind of holidays are boring and senseless for me because I don’t have a background or memories associated to them. He seems to be right. It’s just that I wish I would have some sort of memories that could make me fond of these things. In the beginning I was really curious about them. But all of them turned out to be flaps.
July 4th I don’t even remember how was it. Memorial day is not something I would like to celebrate. Halloween had everything but children because parents are too afraid to send them for candy door to door. Thanksgiving was something like “Ah, ok, go to kitchen and help yourself”. Christmas in winter meant to be indoors all the time, putting up with silly emotional crap about a fake tree instead of a real one, a newly widower going hysterical if somebody left a plate in an angle different from what it was originally; etc. New Years Eve was as boring as watching American football while playing trivia… and that was exactly what we did.
It’s sort of funny got shopping in this season. Everywhere they sell seasonal decorations. If I’d live with a mom that changes decoration for each season and puts coordinated stuff in my bathroom, table, kitchen, bedroom etc, I would be scared to death. Do you imagine Halloween theme in you curtain shower, towels, soap dish, silverware and dinnerware and even in your bed comforter?
THAT would be a scary Halloween.
One thing I love with all my heart about this season: Pumpkin Pie. And if it’s from Mamaw, my husband’s grandmother, it becomes beyond this world.

I could have danced all night, and even ask for more... Well, Maybe not.

Today I had the most bizarre idea… or dream… or vision… I don’t know. I imagined myself bringing my guitar to work and playing a song in Spanish. Maybe the song I’m listening to right now. Something with rhythm, that makes people dance. But of course there is something completely wrong about my illusion and it’s that nobody here would dance. Music doesn’t flow in their veins like it does in mine. I hear music and I have a hard time stopping myself of dancing. When I was at home my sister put some salsa and asked me to dance with her. I almost cried when I noticed that I got tired after 2 minutes of dancing. I almost didn’t make it for the whole song. Me!!! I was the one that would go to dance and from midnight until 5:00 am I wouldn’t stop more than once to have something to drink and then come back to dance. I would come back home at 6:00 and get up again at 7:00 to go to work. And that was just 2 years ago! What happened to me? Simple, I got fat and lazy. I don’t want to be like that. I had such a hard time taking the stairs for the subway and keeping up with the rest when walking.
So on Monday I started to stop this madness and made a bunch of abs. Yesterday I went swimming and today I plan to do the same. I need to go back to what once I was. A healthy and beautiful woman and the next time I visit my country I will dance all night long like I used to.
I promise!!!

Como Vai Voce

That is the title of a beautiful song. It’s in Portuguese but I still can understand most of what it says. The title means, “How are you?” and of course it’s a love song. The version I’m listening to it’s mostly acoustic guitar and some violins on the background. I can also hear some electronic sounds but I can barely notice them.
I love music from other countries. I love music in French, Portuguese, Italian and any other language. That is the way I learnt my English that although it’s not perfect, it’s not bad either.
One of the things that surprised me most of USA is the little that they know of world music. I mean, I grew up listening Rita Pavone, Edith Piaf, Salvatore Adamo, Nicola Di Bari, Charles Aznavour, etc. but here, in a place with 100 times more people than in my country, nobody seems to know who is any of those singers. It’s kind of sad because it’s hard to know what is going on in the rest of the world regarding to music if nobody is interested in anything but songs in English.
In my last visit to my native country my sisters made me catch up with a lot of international music that was really interesting. I bought a few CDs and one that I specially liked was from a French band called Holden. Down there you can hear all kind of diverse music on the radio. It’s not so limited like the radio stations in USA. Here you have a radio station for country music, other for pop, another for jazz and so on. Down there it doesn’t matter what radio station you are listening to. The only difference between selections might be that some radio stations only play vintage music in Spanish and others play music from any part of the planet without caring about the language as long as it is pop music.
I still find hard to believe that in a country so full of immigrants like this there is so little noise from other cultures.
Maybe it’s just this Midwest bubble that I’m lost in.

Insomnia

Several days without a good sleep finally took its toll. Yesterday I wasn’t able to come to work. I was a wreck. Between the insomnia, sinus and depression there was nothing left from me. I don’t even remember very well what I said to my husband when he tried to wake me up. I think it was as simple as “I can’t”. He called my office and I just woke up about 1:30 PM with a horrible sensation of not being able to breathe.
I spent most of the afternoon watching daytime TV and brushing my cat’s hair. I didn’t feel like doing anything. I’m lucky that the husband I have is so understanding and good to me. He doesn’t demand anything from me.
I was giving some thought to those nightmares that keep me awake. Some of them are related to my family and most of them have to do with memories from my childhood. I guess I am very insecure about everything, and I guess that I am very scared about my future and about what am I going to do with my life. All I know is that I have to do something new soon and something rewarding. Something that could make me happy. Answering phones is not my idea of future. I don’t care very much about my job and that makes much harder coming back to USA.
In my country I don’t have all the commodities that I have here but I still feel more at ease. The only reason I’m not coming back is because down there they still have a lot of prejudices that I can’t bear and I don’t feel like asking for an opportunity. I will consolidate myself and then… maybe I’ll come back.

It's so nice to have you back where you... belong?

Back at home.
Every time is harder to come back. And this damned silence it’s driving me crazy!
I love my apartment and I love my husband and my cat, but I hate this town. I feel so desperately lonely that I feel like I need to scream with all the air that can fill my lungs.
Yesterday I did. Then I was scared that my neighbors could get worried about me, but nobody knocked at the door. Nobody cares here. Only my husband is there. Even for him is hard to ask and try to know more about human beings and their souls.
I turned on the TVs. I have 3. One is in my bedroom; other is in the living room and a very small b/w in my kitchen. That noise gives me the illusion of company, of people around. Even if I mute I still can hear that buzzing of the TV turned on.
I miss my sisters like if I had some part of my body missing. I just want to know that they are present in the same room. Even if they are somewhere else I feel so at peace knowing that they will come back home at night. It’s like the buzzing of a muted TV. You can’t hear the noises but you know it’s on, and that comforts you.
The truth is that nobody will come back to our apartment tonight with a new stupid, sad, happy, nonsense, important, mean, nice, or funny story to tell while having tea. I won’t hear the tick-tick-tack of my mom while she knits some sweater and I won’t laugh looking at my dad falling asleep in front of the TV. My youngest sister won’t scare a hell out of me with some nonsense fear of failing some test at the university, and I won’t see my other sister’s face to try to see through that mysterious sadness that keeps her so far away from everybody.Should I come back home? The answer is no. I can’t go back looking for another opportunity. That’s not an option and I can undo the path I’ve walked already. I can’t go back, I have to look forward and someday, when I don’t need to ask for another chance, I will take my husband, my cat, my guitar and my books and will look for a small house in MY land. Because I might have changed the address and I might be sleeping under a different sky, but my soul is still wondering and there nothing that can erase the birthmark of The Andes from it.

Freak Show

I hate to be social. I guess it´s just when it´s about being social with people that I like but I´m not really interested in.
Today was the obligatory BBQ for welcome and goodbye from my family ...and my family´s family.
I admit that I was crazy about meeting my aunts and eating some good food, but they came with one of my aunt´s husband and if it is true that he is a good guy, it´s also true that he is boring as hell.

We were all sitting on the table enjoying the tea, and he was talking. I must have been distracted and all of the sudden it was just he and me. He started to tell me that old and boring story of how he became supervisor on his job, how he straightened up a group of lazy and irresponsable people, how the other guys dislike him becuse he is so responsible and honest, how he has been saving so much money to his managers and how well he did in seminar that he attended directed to supervisors of his company. It´s always the same. The rest is bad and lazy and he is the good hero. Everybody left me there with him and nobody came to save me. I didn´t know how to escape. I found the way to go to the kitchen but when I came back he was waiting for me to continue.
I feel bad because I understand that he is a very simple guy and very good too, and that maybe because of the same reason he doesn´t have more things to talk about. But I was so tired of all that.
I really appreciatte this guy, he has always been good to me and my family and I respect him, but I guess that the next time I will avoid this quality time that he gives me.

I got to talk with my aunts, which is great. We were enjoying some old pictures and, of course making jokes about every little thing in this less than serious world. They have a very peculiar and great sense of humor. I can´t imagine a moment with my aunts without laughing. And my aunt Olga, she is the greatest. She is funny and you can hear her laughs from out on the street. She makes fun of everyone, including herself. I still feel like a little child next to her and I still hug her like I was 5 years old. She is the kind of woman that every little child would dream as a fairy godmother. She is not pretty like one, but I´ve never met a child that doesn´t think that she is the funniest friend anyone can have.

I´m a little tired tonight. I miss my husband, however for everyday that passes so far away from him and so inmerse in my old life of daughter, niece, granddaughter, goddaughter and single woman, i feel yonger and younger. It´s so weird! It took me so much work to start feeling like a grown up woman and now everything is vanishing again. I feel happiness playing with the dogs and cats, brushing my sisters´hair, singing all over the place and going to my old church that for moments I find hard to believe that I have a completely different life at the other side of the world. I feel every second more like a child.
This morning I went to the church with my sisters and when I went to receive the communion I realized that the one that would give it to me was the director of my old school! And there she was, a little older but the same woman with italian accent. She said to me "The Body of Christ..." I said "Amen" and when I opened my mouth I was so impressed and happy that it was almost unbeareable. I wanted to hug her and tell her "Do you remember me sister Maria Luisa? I was one of those little deamons that you used to chase away from your convent!!". I didn´t say anything. I just felt like many years of memories of my childhood in that place came back to me, and I just looked directly in her eyes trying to find those memories there too. Maybe I wasn´t so wrong after all. She smiled at me and while placing the "Body of Christ" on my tongue she smiled back at me and... winked!.

My eyes hurt

I spend 80% of last night crying like a baby.
I went to visit my husband's grandfather. He is dying.
I refused to believe it until last Sunday. I saw it just bones and without being able to say more than a few monosyllables.
I got closer to his ear and I whispered "I love you". Then he opened his eyes with a lot of effort and whispered "I love you too". Just like 20 years ago did my own grandfather.

February 1985.
I was a child and I went to bed before everyone. They were talking in the kitchen. I was falling asleep and I heard him coughing. I got up and he was looking bad, and it was really thirsty so I picked a jar of plum juice that somebody left next to his bed and with a teaspoon I started giving him little sips until he seemed to feel a little better. He was just bones too, and in those days the anesthesia wasn't as good as these days and living with cancer in a rural area was close to hell. He didn't have flesh anymore and was so weak that passed more of his day in silence. His thorax was an empty space and you could almost see his spine from his front. And there I was, scared of not knowing if what I was doing was good, and happy of being able to be with him. As a child they tried to keep me out of his room as much as possible. He look at me, and with a strength that I don't know where it came from, he sat on his bed and huged me saying: "Mi nietecita!" which means "My little granddaughter". I was so happy that I didn't care of his dry skin smelling like the hospital, and I was so touch that I didn't want to leave him. I gave him some more juice and then my grandmother entered the room and sent me back to bed. She didn't know that he spent the little strength remaining in a hug for me. Next morning he had to got back to the hospital where a few weeks later he would die.

August 2004
Last night I was nervous. I didn't know what to tell Papaw. I didn't know if he would hear me or if he would understand me. I was talking to Mamaw, she also looks very tired. Then somebody called and I walked to Papaw's bed. He was watching TV and his arm, now showing every bone, was under his head. He looked a little better than last Sunday. I told him I wouldn't be able to be with him during the next two weeks so I didn't wanted him to do anything crazy during that period of time. He smiled and said a few words with extreme difficulty. He didn't want me stay far too long. And then Mamaw came and told me to leave. She wouldn't let me play with his hands like I used to do nor talk to him anymore. She said that he would get too excited and winded up and then would be terrible for his brain. He would have a terrible night with so much excitation. He didn't want me to leave and I didn't want to say goodbye, because I'm afraid that last night was the last time we could hold each other hands.

End of the summer

Exactly a month ago was my last blog posting.
This month has been as horrible as every freaking August.
Lots of stress and strange climate.
I miss my family and I know they could use some companion from me. On the other hand my husband also needs me.
I'm lucky he is so understanding with all my things.
He is a good man. The best man I've ever met.
Unfortunately, people abuse of good people because they apparent to be weak.
As long as he is with me I won't let that happen. He has me now.

I'm not completely Insane...

... but maybe just a little bit crazy..."
Alana Davis - Crazy

I'm in a Alana-Davis-sort-of mood. I guess it's because finally I sat down and actually payed attention to each one of the words of the lyrics.
I'm working today and that sucks, but I don't have a choice since I got the past Monday for free.
An Tuesday too, althought that was because I woke up paralyzed.
This was a very bizarre week. Absolutely bizarre.
Everything started last Saturday. I called my family and I was talking to my mom when she mentioned the murder of a catholic priest. I almost fell into pieces when she told me that was my confessor, a very old priest that was doing the masss in the cathedral of Santiago. A guy came with a knife and slaight his throat to end up stabbing him to death.
I couldn't understand this. That was one of the most understanding and wise men I've had the oportunity to talk to. He comforted me so many times. He used to say to me "you are so young, you have your whole life ahead, I'm so old, I am almost ready to leave so I can't change very much, but you, you never despair".
Then my mom apologized, she thought that I had already read the news, and of course, I didn't that day. I didn't know what to think. I kept asking myself why. Why this man? Who did he ever hurt? Why did this happen?
For my own surprise I wasn't really mad, I was really sad and I couldn't stop some tears from coming up. However a sweet feeling of compassion and forgiveness replaced every bad feeling. I guess that is the best thing that people like this priest can leave to the rest of the world. Thinking of all the good things this priest shared and trying to think of the way that he would think I was capable for first time in my life to easily forgive. I went to my room and lighted up some candles for him and then I prayed.
Monday. Another bizarre new showed up. The priest that celebrated my wedding was taken to jail. He is a very good man, and he didn't deserve to be treated like that. He has been giving support to a girl from an Institution that he runs, and this girl is accusing a prominent politician of participanting in the parties of the worst pedophilian in the chilean history, and being abussed by him. The girl and the priest were taken to jail acussed of false testimony, the first , and induction to false testimony, the second. I know this priest enough to know that he didn't do such a thing. Thankfully this order was revoked byt the court, 3 votes to 0, and now both are free again.
Tuesday. During the first hours of the morning I woke up with a strange pain on my neck. I sat up and rubbed it. I thought that probably it was because of a bad position to sleep, so I chenged it and went back to sleep. When the alarm clok went off I tried to get up and I couldn't. The pain on my neck was so intense that wouldn't allow me to move a muscle without making me regret it later. I needed to get up to go to work so I handled the way to get off the bed and walk a few steps when suddenly a horrible pain made me almost fall on the floor. I couldn't help to scream like mad and the tears burst. I couldn't move and I was only able to put my hand on my neck and cry for help. My husband run to me and figured out the way to put me back into bed. That was unbelievably painfull. And I couldn't stop screaming until I was completely inmovilized facing the ceiling. Then my husband called our jobs to tell them that we would be late. We still thought that it would pass in a few hours. He put a heating pad on my neck, an antiflamatory in my mouth and with a straw he was able to put some water down my throat.
The next day I was able to move so I went to work, but up to date I still feel some annoyance in my neck.
Other strange things have happened since then but I can't quit remember right now and I'm running out of energy to tell them anyways

Zombie

Tonight I will sleep after 3 or 4 weeks of restless survival. My kitty is being spayed right now. My nice neighbor Jacqueline,  had the nice gesture of taking the kitty to the vet this morning. She feels guilty because she was the one that brought it to the neighborhood after finding her crying outside the Rex Center in Kettering.
I love my kitty, but she was driving me nuts. I was unable to sleep because she thinks that midnight is the best hour to play, and playing in my bedroom is not an option, she demands to play in the living room with her catnip-frog-toy. And there, me or my husband goes with the stupid rat or frog-toy to play with her until she decides that we are allowed to go back to our bed.
This weekend she started on heat again. Yeah, living hell. We closed our bedroom door and I wear earplugs and apply a dosage of sleeping pills because what comes later is apocalyptic. She stop meowing and starts crying like a baby in despair, and then start scratching the door, when she understand that it won't work she will start bumping against it. A couple days ago my husband showed me a hole on my carpet.  Yeap, that bad.
I can hardly believe that tonight I will be able to sleep. I'm happy... and guilty at the same time.
My poor kitty is sacrificing her orgasms so I can sleep and stop wearing earplugs. She must be so sad and confused. She probably is feeling lost and forsaken.
My husband just called. Said that Jackie told him that she called the hospital and everything is ok and the kitty is fine. She will sleep over. Tomorrow Jackie will go to take her home and then we will see.
Quoting Nellie McKay : "... miss her little kitty touch, does she miss me, does she care, Oh I miss her kitty stare."

It's raining blogs!!!

My youngest sister sent me an email inviting me to check into this blog. It's funny because now it feels kind of strange to read in spanish again. Actually I have developed a sort  of aversion towards spanish and is not because I don't like spanish, I love my native language and I am the kind of person that thinks that Spanish language is a miracle of civilization, so rich and wonderful that it can't be compared to any other language.  The problem is that everytime I read something in spanish is so full of mexican or caribean slang that I don't feel familiar with it. So in some way I don't feel a part of this.
 
I just bought a book called "The other history of the United States" from Zinn. Very interesting. I bought it because I was looking a book to learn more about the history of this country. I believe it's my duty to learn about the land where I am living in.  Also I need to learn about the constitution of this country so I can better understand it. I read a little bit of it some days ago and It's very interesting to understand and see how some people interpret the amendments.
 
And also I have to admitt that I would love to embarrase some people by knowing about their history better than themselves, the same way that I love embarrase some of my own people of my country by having my husband knowing how to dance the national dance better than them.
Am I too evil??

Reassuring Memories

This morning I called my sister. All of the sudden I needed to talk to her and ask her about things of our childhood. For reasons that I will never ever publish and only people really close to me knows I tend to question my own memories from time to time. So I ask my sister if she remembered an opportunity when we were invited to this "birthday party" where the girls that lived a street after ours took us. It was kind of strange for me because I didn't know whose birthday was this and also because we had to pay a little bit of money (maybe like $5 Chilean pesos, in those days) to be admitted in. It was fun though.
My mom was concerned about letting us go because things were kind of shaken up a little. She heard about some shootings around the military complex near home. To get to this party we had to cross through the military complex unless we wanted to walk three times the same distance. But one of the girls that would take us there (she and her sisters were much older than me and my sister and therefore they were usually babysitting us) convinced my mom that the shootings of that morning were gone and that now everything was completely safe.
I have to make a stop here because I'm afraid that people won't understand the context if I don't explain it a little further.
In those years I was probably 7 or 8 years old and my sister 4 or 5. I don't quite remember our age at that time. We were living about a decade of military dictatorship in my country and at that moment there was no surprise on hearing shootings, having blackouts every night, being in the middle of a protest or simplely got beaten up by police just because. That was an everyday life at least at my side of the city.
The most common words in the news were "molotov", "marxism", "extremists", "terrorist" and any other that the government could use to accuse those that were opposed to Pinochet's dictatorship.
My parents have been always quiet people and were never involved in protest or political debate simplely because it was their duty to protect us and nobody wanted to be accused of being a communist or something like that. You didn't need the police to come to your house, beat you up until almost kill you and then ask the questions.
Those experiences were kind of common those days and sometimes you would know about people that went to answer the door and never came back.
In this day to day life we weren't afraid about going through a military complex because we were faced with terror so often that it wasn't so scary anymore, it was just life. Besides, there was many people that didn't even imagined that this could have an end someday so we might as well just deal with it.
My sister, the girls of the other street and other children my age walked silently throughout the military complex. Nobody wanted to get caught by a lose bullet or something like that. At the end of the military complex the exit was a small and very rusty turnstile that from my point of view was really an amusing device. I liked it so much that when the party got to an end and we headed back home in the middle of the night I run ahead of the group with somebody else that I can't remember who was, maybe other child or one of the big girls. I passed the turnstile again, excited by the magic sensation of his rusty sound and the fascinating idea of getting stock in there without ever being able to escape from its spinning. However the rust made it very hard to turn so we just passed and kept running ahead of the group. Just a few meters ahead there were two men. One was with his hands up and the other had a gun pointing at him. The first man just said almost crying "Help me please!" and by that time the rest of the group caught up with us and I just heard the voices yelling at me, and whoever the other person next to me was, to run back and get out of there. I was terrified and, the seconds before hard to move turnstile, was spinning like new. Some of the group just jump over it and some of us didn't care and just passed under it. And we run like mad. Scared we run blocks in middle of the night sure that the guy with the gun would come after us. Out of breath we stoped when we felt sure that nobody followed us. I was just a child and with no right to ask nothing. The big girls decided that we couldn't come back that way and we should just take the long road back home. It was a long walk and I was really tired.
I arrived home and I don't remember if I told something to my mom about it. And differently from what anyone could think I didn't get traumatized by that experience although I've always felt sorry for that man. Not guilty, because I was just a child and also because even if I wanted, nothing could have been done to help him. Police in those years didn't care about us, the people. Their job was to keep the population on line and scared enough to not attempt anything against the authority. Besides that, we would see them as merciless tyrants and torturers. I know that I might be unfair to them, but that was the general feeling in those days. Justice? That was just a dream that even today seems very far away from those that can't pay for it.
********************************************
I called my sister this morning and asked her if whether she remembered that strange birthday party where we had to pay to get there.
-The one where we cross the military complex? - she asked
- Yes, that one. What do you remember from that?
- not much, we cross the military complex and late that night we tried to do the same thing but we had to get out of there running.
- So you remembered that too - Now I was sure it wasn't just my imagination or a dream. - And do you remember why we have to run away?
- Not really.
- Did you get to see those two men meters after the entrance?
- No, I just remember we had to run to get out of there very fast and then we walked back home. We walked a lot.
-Thanks, I just wanted to make sure I didn't dream all that. If you remember more things, just write ok?
- OK.

Yeahh!!! I'm so happy... at least temporarily

Today I was depressed. I don't really need a reason to be depressed anymore, it's just a state that has a mind on its own.
Anyways, there are just simple and little things that cause me to go a little more annoyed at life and hating the world and writting my "Evil Black list of Doom" where anybody that makes things that make me sad will fall in. Like that guy that thinks is funny and keep making stupid jokes and using that loud and maniac FAKE laugh to be noticeable. That doesn't make me mad or sad, is the fact that there is actually idiots that laugh at those things and give him tribune to keep doing it what really bothers me. I guess there is a freak like that in every office in the world. Well, at least i'm improving and trying to be a little more tolerant everyday. I used to be bothered for breathing the same air he was breathing.

Anyways. This morning I was depressed so I sat down and started reading the news, like that would be able to cher me up. After a while I got bored and I decided was time to waste a few minutes going to heat up a bowl of cereal and have some coffee. We have this lunch room which I rarely use and I go there to put the ceral in the microwave. I hit the timer and when I turn back I realize that there is this door that I never saw before and one of the guys from the Network Operations is in there. I greet him and we start talkin about subnet and stuff. He showed me the switches and wiring closet and long story short he invited me to help them to move some stuff from one floor to another by the end of summer. I don't care if I have to call in sick in order to do it but I will. I'm so happy and excited that I completely forgot about all the bad things in my schedule of thinking.
I can't help to be happy for that. That means so much to me! Finally doing something that I like to do. Cool!!!
Geeks rule!!!

Kings Island

Finally, yesterday my husband received the tickets to go to Kings Island this weekend. His company is doing a picnic for the employees.
Well deserved considering that they are cheaper labor that would it be having their jobs sent to Mexico, India or any of those countries where companies are outsourcing nowadays.
My husband's birthday is this week. I already have a present, although it's not very much so. I bought a t-shirt that reads "Social engineer: because there is no patch for human stupidity". I wanted one too, but in my workplace I don't think that something like that would have got very much of a praise. After all "is not nice". So I decided for one that reads "There are only 10 types of people in the world. Those who understand binary and those that don't". I was also thinking in that one that says "There is no place like 127.0.0.1" but it was too much money already.
Anyways, my theory is that a gift is not so if you buy one for you too. It's not special anymore. It as to be unique. So now I have to think in something from here to Friday. I don't have to many ideas to be honest. My creativity is everyday shrinking more and more. I think is the lack of stimulation from the environment. Now I'm starting to understand why there is people that believes in drugs. Their brains kind of dries for lack of intellectual activity.

Just another maniac monday

Starting the week again. It's a pretty day and I'm happy to say that I took all the tests for the CCNA. Now I just need to concentrate in the finals of this week. Last night I feel so without a purpose. I was between relaxed because I took all the tests and anxious because I felt like there were many more things to do pending and waiting for me to catch up with.
Last night I went to sleep very tired. Like after thousand of hours of exercise. Long time without feeling like that. I must admit that I had the help of a couple pills.

I came to work and everything is so calm that scares me. I know I have a bunch stuff to do is just that I can't figure out where to start at.
I better go back to work.

::: n e l l i e m c k a y . n e t :::

::: n e l l i e m c k a y . n e t ::: music :: lyrics

I've been listening to Nellie McKay lately. It puts me in a good mood.

Today I worked just half the day. I have a bunch of stuff to study and I just did a online quiz that got me like 80%correct answers, but that's ok. I'm thinking if I should take the online test for the TCP module or not. Probably I will just sit to study more about the ACL. I don't know why this class all of the sudden seems so hard to me.
I've been so tempted to say "Forget about it and take a nap but i'm proud to say that I've decided just to ignore myself. In fact, I think I'll leave this blog for now and be back with my Access Control Lists

What a crazy day.

32 flavours and then some...

I'd never try to give my life meaning by demeaning you
And I would like to state for the record...
I did everything that I could do

Alana Davis - 32 Flavors and then some

This weekend I spent it just studying. I'm tired instead of rested like everybody else probably is doing.
Even with that I didn't get to catch up with all the stuff I wanted to. I still have 2 more online tests to give and 4 quizes to complete, plus 1 and a 1/2 chapters from my book of CISCO to read. It sounds terrible. I'm going to sacrifice the lunch with my husband today to be able to finish the stuff I have to give to my instructor today.
On Sunday I got together with a classmate and if I thought that I was discouraged this girl was doing 3 times worse than me in that department. All of the sudden these classes got so complicated for us and even if I pay attention to my instructor I have a heck of a time understanding. It's like trying to understand chinese.
The next week are the finals and we will have a hands on test that is really freaking me out.

In other news, today will be a very hard day. I have to take care of the stuff that is pending from a coworker that was let go last week.
Preparing for that I got up extra early and went for a good dosage of Coffee and breakfast to the Golden Nuggett. It was good and now I'm almost ready to start with this torture of doing something that I have no idea how to take care of.

My husband is going to call a doctor and get an appointment soon to try to figure out all my health issues that have been put aside for quite some time and that can't wait any longer.

Well, my week has started and I just have a couple minutes to login ton the phones. Yeah! (<--that was a sarcasm, of course).

In the middle of a storm

I love storms, and I can't stop feeling amazed for the wonderful show of lightning and thunder. It's like a miracle. I enjoy it.
Tonight is very scary. The sky is roaring and full of light.
There is a tornado warning and I don't care. I can't imagine something most beautiful than this heaven's fury.

I'm so tired

I don't feel like I can go on. Today my boss asked me to take over a new client program and I said yes, but once we started the meeting with the people that has been doing this for so long I got completely lost. I don't know what they were talking about or what do I have to do.
I honestly feel like running away from here.
I've been talking to my husband about this. I want to get out of this town, the sooner the better.