Obsessions

This will be a more traditional rant. Because if there is something I dislike, is irrational behaviour, and yet, I turn totally irrational when obsessed.

I usually keep a couple of obsessions active. A few times I have had more than three, but in those cases I skip sleep and even food, so I cannot keep up for long.

Most of them are quite short, from one day to one week. The time I need to master a game, finish a book, hate a record. Or exhaust the easy path on an idea, and I get tired when the difficulties begin.

What usually happens, besides these obsessions with a clear deadline (I may skip dinner and sleep to keep on reading a book, but no matter how much I like it, it will end soon), is that I lose interest, with time. A few times I have lost interest in a game before finishing it, and it may remain untouched for months, till something sparks my interest again.

There is a similar effect with people. When obsessed about someone, I tend to be overbearing, solicitous and downright servile. Then something changes and I can skip greeting that person, which tends to affect interpersonal relationships. Those people I really feel affection for should get used to it, as I will pass through several of those cycles with time, although at least they will get a nice reaction when I am not obsessed, so probably they consider those obsessive episodes just a small (or not so small) quirk of my character.

Sometimes the obsession is an idea. And I will be exploring and researching it for a few days before drifting off to something else. That has given me a wide knowledge on certain obscure areas, such as chain mail manufacture, differing qualities of cocoa among the growing areas, or peculiarities of the AOC Bordeaux and its divisions.

A few obsessions remain at low burn most of my life, but that is very similar to normal hobbies.

With time, I have been unable to really control my obsessions, but I can disguise them quite well. That makes talking with people easier, as I can talk about different things besides the objects of my obsession (although as that is very tiring and takes me away from exercising the obsessions, I will be less polite and long-winded than usual. As well, I hope I no longer frighten people with my constant attention. At least, people no longer complain. And with age has come the possibility of instant gratification, where I can buy most of my obsessive objects, which almost inmediately stop being obsessive.

Isn't disposable income great?
  ¶ 5:17 PM 0 comments

  Sweating

Not often, but there are certain times when my work becomes mostly physical. The last time has been disassembling a laboratory rubber mixer, for deep cleaning and maintenance. Laboratory mixer may be a misnomer for a machine weighing 400 Kg, and that breaks up in easy to handle 50 Kg sections.

So, after all the ritual of gathering tools, going back to the workshop for a couple more tube wrenches, breaking a couple of allen screws, discovering there are some more screws fixing a part than what is shown in the schematics... I had a real mound of steel parts, to be cleaned in different ways, some joints to be changed, and a couple of pieces to replace. And lots of lubricating grease, and sweat.

There reaches a moment, specially if the job is going well, that you welcome those drops falling from your forehead into the worktable, or feeling the back of the shirt soaked when you sit to rest a few minutes with a cup of coffee.

And there is a feeling of strange contentment, when you get home with real fatigue, strained muscles, black hands and nails... It feels as if this time you have really earned the food and the rest.

I could not do it everyday, but for a couple of days a month the feeling is great. Last time I felt so relaxed was when helping a friend demolish a few walls. There is something in wielding a 7 Kg maul a couple of times that wakens up something primal, that was hidden or polished off in infancy.

Now I think I understand why those people with a garden cannot leave it alone, but have to do things in it with a certain frequency. But I will stick to my machines, thanks.
  ¶ 9:49 AM 0 comments

  Sunblind

The highway I take to go to work every morning (and back home every evening, and most days in the afternoon) runs in an almost straight West-East direction and back. So four times a year, thanks to the light savings time change, I drive into a bright dawn sun. The sun in the eyes effect lasts only around a week, but during those days, going to work is a hazardous adventure.

When faced with the rising sun, there are two typical responses, either keep steady, blinking quickly, or brake suddenly, just in case. Combine these response in two cars, one after the other, and a reduction from three to two lanes, and you have a recipe for accidents.

Normally you have two/three overtakings every day. The primary one, and then the others as people with limited visibility at highway speeds suddenly have to stop. Not serious, as modern cars are quite safe, and overtaking is the less life threatening crash. However, once in a while one of the cars is pushed into other lane. Now that can turn unpleasant.

Once the accident has taken place, and all the secondary crashes, the risk disappears. Crawling slowly forward, we avoid the stopped cars, with people busily filling up the insurance papers (another advantage of overtakings, as blame is legally clear). Late to work, but at least safe.

It is usually easy to spot the veterans, who take the way every day, as we have both sunglasses and the lights on. Anything to minimize dazzling and to maximize visibility. But there is also that feeling of helplessness, as no matter the care you take, you are still at the mercy of the other drivers. Sometimes the accident has already taken place, and you just need to be patient. Others you feel the random finger of fate hovering over the tarmac, and you feel the stress rising as you approach the lane reduction.

The compensation for this, of course, are the glorious sunsets I get to see most of the years, at all kind of moments, from the red dying sun, an old friend that does not dazzle at all, to the purples and pinks racing through the high clouds, while Venus winks and the sky turns indigo.

It is strange, how going to work, even the rosy aurora (four instances of that, too, before driving to work in nighttime) fails to impress much, while when I return, the working day over, I can enjoy the glorious spectacle of twilight.
  ¶ 8:48 AM 0 comments

  Revealing

Sometimes i feel the urge to be too candid, too straightforward about some of the things that really matter in my life. Then I remember that this is the internet, not me shouting drunk outside a bar that has just closed down. Too many people can see this, and maybe one who can draw conclusions and make consequences happen.

Which is maybe why, when I am stumped after deleting a post, I recur to the past. The past is mostly safe, as the people affected know what happened then, and I do not hide my past from friends or loved ones. Most of my problems and advantages start in the past, outside sources instead of inside sources.

So if you feel I am saying too much, it is just an impression. I am saying too little. But that is a difficult situation to balance. Because the real question is how far can I go with the risk of hurting someone else. Someone else who will be, unavoidably, someone close to me.

I suppose this is a stage exhibitionist blogs such as this one have to pass, a kind of Rubicon. Do I stop (or bowdlerize, which is even worse in my mind) the process, being satisfied with the results so far, but unwilling to lose control of the information? Or should I continue, still supposing only friends and close ones see this, and nevermind the rest?

The answer will be here, day by day. But if one morning it is all gone, you will know why.
  ¶ 1:23 AM 0 comments

  Sickness

It may be because I am blessed with hardy resistance, or probably just a high pain threshold. But I seldom am sick, and when I am, I behave terribly. So I am indisciplined, refuse to take any painkillers without a MD instructions, and generally just try to behave as if I was in a normal state.

That of course means going to work, even if I cannot leave my office due to weakness or fever dizziness. While it may be dangerous, or even counter-productive to work in those circumstances, I cannot just accept the body's limitations, and stay home resting.

Even when some common sense, or other people's pressure manage to make me stay, I walk barefoot, escape out of bed to use the computer, or keep reading and listening to music till my head feels ready to explode. I refuse to follow advice unless I have a good opinion of the giver, and in medical matters that means a MD. Of course I only visit the doctor when bleeding a lot, with a broken limb or almost unconscious. So my wife has found a ruse that works. She just makes an appointment for the two of us, and then asks me to go with her. As in matters of duty it is clear I have to be there to give her my support, even if I am convinced this is a trick to get me there in the visiting room, I go meekly. Fortunately nothing serious has ever appeared in these check ups, so I avoid any medication. My life is complex as it is without requiring extra inputs.

That may seem strange, a proponent of chemical solutions to problems refusing to use chemicals unless there is a clear need. But it is just a matter of degree. I have an incredible tendency to depend on external factors. And I lack a strong will. So as soon as I get a dependency, it will be forever. Which is also why I have never smoked or done drugs. I just do not trust myself to stop. If I can skip food for a book, what could I do for a cigarette?

The real problem, of course, is those few times I have been seriously ill, as it was recognized later than it should. But so far, no harm has been made, so I will keep grumbling, using the computer and refusing to tuck the blanket.
  ¶ 10:20 PM 0 comments

  One more book

Recently, asked about a book that had helped shape me, I chose Brideshead Revisited. It is also in my ten top books in terms of quality.

As many others, my first contact with the book came from the excellent Grenada Television series, that also made famous Jeremy Irons. However, although the series is also one of my favourite TV experiences, it was the book which really made me see the series whole and in order.

The reason is clear enough. The main character, Charles Ryder has great trouble showing his feelings, and even though he knows what he wants, he lets himself be led by others, traits I found obvious in myself. Shy and smart, and hiding the shyness with wit, that seemed to be my life. In another parallel, while I went from catholicism to atheism, he marched the opposite way. And all his steps were those I would have taken in his place, up to religion if I had felt the faith.

The other characters are less clear, as we see them from Charles' lens, and being in a way, alien to himself. But they are at the same time breathing, living people.

Even more surprisingly, it is a book that has grown as myself did grow, from the careless years of University (Et in Arcadia ego), to the bittersweet feeling of love found and lost, the depth of what I read grew with my ability to read it.

I did cry once, now that I think about it, rereading it (actually, the first reading in English). The build up till the last words between Julia and Charles, finally understanding it wholly, had me crying like a lost, forlorn child. I was dumped twice in the following three months. But I know I knew that would arrive.

I have read all other works Evelyn Waugh wrote. Some is funny, some is touching, but only a few of his short stories touch me in a similar way, and never with that intensity.

I suspect it still keeps power over me, because in a way, Charles Ryder is one of my key role models. So no wonder I feels so close to him. I have been building myself so, for years.
  ¶ 10:57 PM 0 comments

  Bathing

It is a contradiction. I like baths, and I usually take showers. I also like showers, but at a lower, physical level. Inside a hot bath is one of the few times I might consider myself spiritual.

When drawing a bath for myself, the first question is one of time. I will require upwards of an hour, both for the bath and the drowsy apathy afterwards. This is serious business.

I like my water hot. And when I say hot, it is Japanese grade hot (over 70ºC). Warm water is good for splashing, or for sharing a tub with someone. But when I am after a bath, it is sweat and purification what I am after.

Water that hot is dangerous, of course. The first rule is to move as little as possible. That way the water in contact with your skin cools down a little, and although it is heated up by the surrounding water, it stops being uncomfortable and becomes enfolding.

With water that hot, in a few moments you are sweating as in a sauna. That is the point, so just enjoy the lassitude and feel the muscles melting.

To help distract me the first minutes (as usual for those familiar with my habits), I get into the bath with a book. I usually read for five minutes or less, till the body gets used to the heat and I start having trouble both keeping my eyes open and holding the book.

I do not stimulate the smell with oils of candles, but I usually take a bath with music. As mentioned, I tend to close my eyes, so tactile and aural sensations are what I am after.

The music also helps guide the direction of my thoughts while relaxing. As it works mostly by free association it may backfire, however. Today I was listening to Nyman's The Piano, and instead of the usual travel, change and anxiety associations, I drifted reflecting on love and passion. Not what I intended at all.

As the tub is small, unlike a Japanese bath, most of the time I end the bath because the water cools down, not because I cannot bear it any longer (that happens on big baths). As I am too relaxed to do much, I just pull the plug, and slowly wait, while my body seems to push down with the water, and an exquisite cool breeze blows over my body. Once I feel strong enough, it is time for a shower with warm water (cooler than usual for me), and ending with cold water, to restore feeling to my limbs, and to cold-start my brain.

Even so, the ten-fifteen minutes afterwards I am good only for simple conversations or shallow reflections.

But you sleep like a just man, if taken fifteen minutes before going to bed.
  ¶ 9:47 PM 0 comments

  Multiple Personality

Psychophant is not myself, it is just a mask I wear when I am on the internet. It has many common points with myself, but many different qualities, some brought by the medium, some inserted deliberately, and a few that have creeped unseen.

I have known people whose online personas are totally different from their real ones. And a few where there was no difference I could see in casual conversation. According to others, I used to be similar to my own mask. I will not discuss the differences, as I am also different with different people, so their experiences are bound to differ. In a way, they see the same mask, but different parts of myself.

So far this is a pretty normal case. My online persona is bolder, more articulate, more exhibitionist, less repressed, less hypocritical, more impatient and more ironic. Those are a common effect of having more time to write, retort, review and edit, as well as distance and anonimity. Psychophant feels the same in all the online fora I move on, even those times he has worn a different name.

But I also have built, in one definite case, a deliberately different online persona. Not very different, and it has been drifting slowly to certain similitudes. But some differences are so ingrained now that they come naturally. In a way, I become a different person when I type in the log in. And unlike my previous persona, where the change was unconscious, here I notice the differences.

In a short time scale, the differences are small. But for me, who is used to see my own handywork, I sometimes am surprised by the things I can write or say. And at times, it is refreshing to do something I would never dream of doing.

A secondary effect is that in the right circumstances, I can become Psychophant. I "channel" the online persona, so that I talk and react as it would, instead of myself. Meeting online friends is one of the ways, specially if there are several together. As well, as I would like to be more like Psychophant in many aspects, sometimes I try to channel him.

The problem is that although I have never tried to "channel" my alternate persona, it has been surfacing occasionally. And as I try to improve myself, I find myself also showing some more undesirable traits, becoming sarcastic instead of ironic, or cruel instead of witty.

Online people do not see the changes, but the real world contacts do. And some are well received, and others do not.

Because, after all, most of our lives is outside this screen.  ¶ 1:07 PM 0 comments

  Finding the point

Last Sunday, in Copenhagen, I had some free time, waiting for a friend and her son to arrive. So, being a Sunday, I just chose a book and set out looking for a place to read.

I had been politely kicked out of my room, it was cold and windy with some menace of rain, the terraces were still closed, and the day was so magnificent that I could not bear the thought of staying inside a cafe.

So, where to go? The first point was that it had to be close to the rendezvous point. Then, it had to be somewhere that I could stay one hour, and interesting enough to amuse me even if the book failed me.

And last but not least, it should offer some protection from the elements close by. Having seen three demolished umbrellas in the way to the Royal Exchange, it was clear the wind was a bit energetic around the canals.

Just to test it, and because I just enjoy them, I got to a tilt bridge (Knippels Bro), just to enjoy the wind and to look at the ferries pass by. And there what would catch my eye but the Diamanten (the new building of the Royal Library). What better place to read than a library? A library with a bar, in case things went really wild. It was the fourth time already that I approached that building, and the sights along the canal, the contrast between the new buildings on one bank, and the old ones of the Royal complex, where the Diamond stands like a black shield, ready both to cover and to bludgeon.

I sat there for a while, but too many tourists were finding their way there, and they distracted me from the text. I had noticed a raised platform close by, with some forty wooden steps leading up to it. So many, that as I hoped it was empty, even with its great view of the canal, the bridges and the two power stations, one on each extreme of the city, with their three chimneys dominating the horizon. A windmill could also be seen, showing the old and the new approach to energy.

The terrace was quiet, and had a great view, but it offered no protection from the horizontal rain that came in short thrusts, as the wind made the rainclouds run ragged towards the sea. So, again, I looked around for a better place. And I spied people going with books, away from the canal. Hidden among the buildings, limited by the old red brick Library that had been superseded by the black glass monument to knowledge, was the Bibliotekhavn (Library Haven), an unlikely name for a garden square. But there were benches under big trees. Big enough to provide shelter. And what better place to stay and read?

As I had sent a SMS with my location and opened again my book, a SMS arrived back. "We are already at the Arsenal". Quickly gather everything and go to the Arsenal, a two minute pressed walk.

But the next time, I know where to go from the beginning.
  ¶ 10:01 PM 0 comments

  Contraria sunt complementa

I agree most of the time with the great Niels Bohr, as it is to be expected, including the motto he chose when he joined the Elephant order.

Maybe he was really thinking of particle-wave duality, but I like to think he was also thinking of other parts of his life.

However, as so many things, this has to be taken within a framework. Do I work best with people who are my opposites? In certain aspects, yes, but there is also a need for a common ground, to at least get to contact.

So I like intelligent people, able to challenge me verbally or in writing, and I would hope I am not their opposite on that.

Just as the particle-wave duality requires a common ground, such as energy level, and approximate position in the space-time continuum, a really complementary person would require those similar traits.

And it is then, when you are in close proximity, when too much similarity becomes disturbing, and you need complimenting edges, to adopt the classic Yin-Yang shape.

So, I need strong extroverted people who however do not talk too much, stronger on the arts but with a certain scientific bent, innovative when I am staid, but undertanding when I overreact on my shyness compensation. And willing to do the tongue lashings I cannot apply to myself or others.

Some opposites are not really so: my ideal partner must be a good cook, as I love eating, but also should appreciate my cooking, as I usually cook in excess. So in a way, we must be similar. But taking turns in the kitchen, or we can knife each other if both in the mood for cooking.

Something similar with books. There must be some common ground for discussion and approach, and then different tastes, so that we can recommend each other, even knowing we will hit it one in five. Talking with someone who disagrees with you forces both to define your ideas and to prove them. And much better than a short: "This is great! Yeah!"

What makes it great? Why do I enjoy it? Why does the other don't? Those are meaningful questions, and part of the joy of discovery. So yes, maybe I enjoy my contrarian because I enjoy a good fight, and I do not care that much about winning.

So no surprise I have never really struck it with bosses and coworkers...
  ¶ 9:18 AM 0 comments

  Enemy mine

I am feeling like a hero who has finally defeated a recurring villain. Or Bush Sr. when the Wall fell. One of my coworkers, the laboratory head, has announced he goes into retirement by the end of October. After six years of underground battles, many shared projects (and many kicks under the table) and a covert war to usurp responsibilities and delegate work, it is suddenly over.

The company I work with is very small, the result of a joint venture between a big multinational and a small, family owned chemical company. I joined the company when the family had just bought out the multinational because they thought they were stalling growth. So I was hired to revitalize research, develop new products and applications, indirectly handle most of the technical support to customers, and travel abroad and sell those products I had invented and developed.

The first year I spent mostly learning from him, being adequately respectful, and starting to get some kind of systematic approach in the production line. Once I started proposing changes and making my own projects, we had several big arguments in front of the management (all part in differing degrees of the family), so to avoid destroying ourselves, we quickly established borders. I took research, he took quality control, and production support we split. I assumed all the sales support, just because he did not want to and the boss and the salesmen just recurred to me.

He probably did nothing different from when I joined to today. He disliked the expansion of product portfolio, the differing quality requirements, the changes we implemented to improve product quality. He did not want to change, and he fought all the way.

At the same time we shared enemies and resources. Besides the constant pressuring with production, and the various blame assignments going on, we had to share first one lab technician, and since a couple of years, two. We also got a new research coordinator, that we both do not get along too much with. And we have neighbouring offices, so we have to see each other all the time.

Slowly, in a long guerrilla campaign, I have eroded his authority, stolen the trust of his (and my) underlings, convinced our superiors. But in the moments of crisis, he still keeps the authority. And in matters concerning classic problems, he is the right person to consult. But for new matters, he drags more than he helps.

All this time we have kept a wary politeness to each other, a respect for the other and his achievements. We are like two political rivals, forced to deal with each other daily, while our worldviews are totally different.

And now, in one month, he will be gone. Who will keep me honest? Who will make sure my cases are faultproof? Who will distract the boss while I try to get a result?

Of course, now the work I do in his area will be recognized, and probably I will have to work less for the same results. But change, as always, opens a door to a new, uncharted territory. Let's go.
  ¶ 8:59 PM 0 comments

  Home alone

It is dispiriting to see how quickly the standards of living degenerate when there is nobody watching. As soon as my wife leaves me alone (and I have noticed signs that something similar happens when it is me who goes away), the house starts a quick decline into a den.

Some details appear quickly, and others when the absence is long. The first signs, in my case, are books lying everywhere. There will be a book on the kitchen table, propped open with a pastry mould, a couple of them in the living room, one on each side of the laptop that will be lying on the couch. One on each bathroom, with a toothbrush marking where I stopped. And the pile on the worktable will not disappear every night, but become taller with the passing days.

After the books spread, there start following the empty glasses and dishes. Those that are clearly dirty will quickly make their way to the sink, and eventually the washing machine, but those more or less clean start getting a permanent place by the worktable and the reading table.

Cooking deteriorates, except every two-three days, when ashamed of how little time I spend taking care of myself, I prepare food for four days that I eat in two.

Basic cleaning still goes on, but order and disposition start to go out of the way. And those chores I do seldom, may linger undone for days. The house may remain unaired, the clean clothes pile haphazardly in the guest room bed, waiting for an ironing that will not come and a pile of empty yoghourt containers and cans pile in bags waiting for a trip to the recycling collection point.

Normally, I feel ashamed for the first five minutes after arriving home. But after taking all the clothes lying on the floor to the dirty clothes basket, the shame passes, and I start rummaging through the books while turning a couple computers on. One will be for playing while the other will be used as a jukebox and internet access. And as soon as I find the page I was reading, any thought that I should do something about the mail metastasizing on the dining table is swept aside.

Instant gratification indeed. It is others who keep me straight.
  ¶ 10:57 AM 0 comments

  Horror

I did comment my recent TV aversion, and its likely link to September the 11th. Although some of it is due to the tragedy itself, I suspect it also was due to a saturation of the senses and the imagination. The casualties were impersonal, but the media exposure was straight and direct.

Having a big interest in History, massacres are a too common event of human history. The shocks we have received in the western countries lately are almost nothing compared not only to some things that are happening nowadays, but to many that happened to our peoples in the past.

So, inured to just numbers, and without an emotional stake on people there, the events just were as descriptions of long ago battles. Technically interesting, lacking in empathy, and the cool weight of numbers.

So I am horrified that I am not horrified by the events at Beslan. A friend suggests that maybe it is because I am not a father, so I cannot feel the intrinsic wrongness of attacking the future, as well as lacking some ingrained biological responses. I think that explains part of it, but not the whole situation, as I used to be horrified by events such as Sierra Leona soldier-kids, Sudan's seasonal massacre movements, or Eritrea permanent war.

The terrorists were beyond the pale because they could shoot children. So for them children were not worthy of any special consideration. They have trained, are indoctrinated, and knew they were going to heaven. What is my excuse?
  ¶ 8:15 PM 0 comments

  Rain

It is raining outside. Not a storm, we have had our share of summer thunderstorms (usually after washing the car), just normal rain. Everything is getting fresh, and the tip-tapping of the drops out of the window keep me from sleeping.

I feel the urge to go outside, and stand under the rain. The cleansing rain is a powerful image, and it is so warm that I would not mind getting wet. But I will not. Even if the rain keeps sleep away, my bed beckons. But then, why I am here, typing this, instead of either the balcony or the bed?

The only light comes from the screen. That means lots of mistakes in typing, but I do not mind. The tapping sound competes with the big drops on the windowsill.

In a few moments, the empowering smell of wet grass and earth rises up from the ground. I feel as if my toes are buried in a rich, black loam.

Now I will turn off the computer, walk around the house in the dark, checking windows, and go to the bedroom, where my wife has just woken up.

  ¶ 1:49 AM 0 comments

  The dumb box

When I wonder if I am progressing on the path of enlightenment, I check what things have changed recently. Some changes are ambiguous, such as the crying loss. Losing the ability to feel individual feelings is to be expected, but I was hoping to reach that stage much later, when I had purged other more destructive passions first.

One positive trend is my attitude lately to television. Right now I seldom watch it, and when I do it is usually either films I love or those I missed in the big screen. A few old series, more for feeling young again than any intrinsic value.

I even prefer to watch DVDs in the laptop instead of the big TV. More control, more intimacy. And when watching together a film, unless it is a great film, either she falls asleep or I start reading. No, cinemas are better for a shared film experience, with a cup of coffee or some dinner to talk about it.

We also have stopped renting videos or DVDs. No point.

The news I get from the internet or newspapers, unless I want some laughs. I would not call most of TV entertainment. And when sitting in front of the TV, now I take either a book or a laptop. So I am already prepared to stop paying attention.

And yet, I was a big TV watcher. I usually preferred the advertisement to regular features, but now even Publivore events do not draw my attention. And earlier just seeing Michael Caine was enough to root me to the couch. Not even Futurama will make me look.

Looking back, I believe I have found the turning point. And it surprised me, because I thought I had been mostly unaffected by it. But I generally stopped watching TV at the end of 2001, and probably stopped being a compulsive watcher after September. Afghanistan and Iraq I have followed without television. And I read almost twice as many books in 2002 as in 2001.

When reality becomes fiction, and fiction reality, you need a new touchstone.
  ¶ 2:28 PM 0 comments

  Crying

All this reflecting about feelings made me wonder. How often do I cry? Not enough, I am sure, but when I saw the listing, it looks worrying indeed.

- I know positively (I was very proud of it at the time, and kept updating) that I did not cry a single time between 1981 (the return from the USA) and 1986.

- In 1986 my life seemed pointless, no girl would talk to me, and even failed at a couple of courses at University. Many nights I cried myself to sleep.

- Still in 1986, at the end of the year, I blew my great chance with a great girl (whose father was already arranging my future carrier, so maybe it was for the good) by being less than happy to see her when she visited me by surprise. She was not there to see me cry, but I doubt it would have done any good.

- 1988. After seeming ridiculous (but highly improving my standing among my co-students) at St. Valentine looking for my girlfriend all round the University and her residence with a dozen yellow roses (four hours with the damned flowers), I went home and locked myself in the bathroom, to cry off part of the frustration.

- 1989. After a traumatic break-up, I did not cry till one month later, staying with my brother in a Bed & Breakfast at London. To prove me that my life was not so bad, he confirmed my suspicions that he is homosexual.

- 1990 was a really troubled year, but I managed to avoid crying till the end of August, when I was dumped by a friend's girlfriend while drunk. Lots of witness, many less friends at the end of the night.

- I decided to ignore love for a while, and to avoid crying after that incident. I managed quite well till 1996, when I fell madly into (platonic) love. I cried the night we decided we were too cowardly to change our paths, the night we proposed to go for a grant together, and the day we were denied it.

- 1997. Although I was managing quite well, suddenly I start crying in certain movies. The first time was in "The English Patient", when the Count d'Almasy left the Cave of Swimmers with his dead lover in his arms. It happened the three times I saw it in a big screen. Other films with this effect: The exit of Moria, from The Fellowship of the Ring, the last five minutes of In the mood for love, Kevin Spacey's death in American Beauty, when I realised they would not meet again in the Spanish film Los amantes del círculo Polar...

- 1998. I weathered the unemployment quite well, but I could not avoid crying when I met again the girl from 1996. It happened in Avignon in holidays with both our partners present, so it was quite a situation. Quite discrete, however. Some further bouts while writing or e-mailing.

- 2000. All seems stable. I can even handle a marriage without a single tear.

- 2003. Some shared tears do not solve problems, but make them easier to talk about afterwards. However I do little sharing, being mostly an observer.

- 2004. I try to, but I am unable to, even in cinemas. So I write a blog about it.
  ¶ 6:50 PM 0 comments

  Change

What do those changes mean? Are they cosmetic, or is there an underlying new current.

In simple terms, I intend the blog to stop being just a safety valve, to blow some steam off, and for it to become a self-inquiry tool, and hopefully useful for self-improvement too.

In practical terms, that means that the recent tendency to self-reference will continue, but I expect the general tone to improve as I probe also more positive traits and circumstances. As well that will broaden the possible subjects, and maybe even include some real world references.

That also will affect the form and appeareance of the posts, that will become shorter and more frequent.

I am already feeling some benefits and disturbances from not displacing anger. I am more relaxed but time seems to fly at work. As deadlines start to loom closer, I worry that I will have to choose between efficiency and serenity. As well, all the efforts directed to control anger now are being used to suppress worries about the future.
  ¶ 6:03 PM 0 comments