Divided Mind

It is not easy right now to focus on these pages. Mostly because most of my introspection time (hot showers and driving back home) is spent planning for gifts, or wondering how to wrap up a report at work, or discussing with myself my New Year's changes.

So far I am almost decided to strengthen one of my hobbies. As the internet and computer gaming can hardly get stronger than they are now, it should be something that takes me away from the computer. And hopefully, my mind from work.

So far I am considering two main options. One is to return to wargaming. I have made some attempts to mix that with the PC, but it misses all the social interactions that really makes this worthwhile. And unlike years ago, when there were plenty of players and many games to choose from, now in the local club there are mainly two games that rule the scene. Lead soldiers, using the De Bellum Multitudines (DBM) rules, and cardboard ones, using Advanced Squad Leader (ASL). I used to play both, and even play quite well, but now I am totally off the current playing level. As well, I used to play with borrowed armies, or cardboard ones, as lead figurines are an expensive proposition.

The other option has better possibilities for my overall health, which is to stop doing light fencing training and take it seriously. But I have already tried that before and failed, so it starts severely handicapped. It is also much more expensive, considering how destructive I am with equipment.

The answer, for New Year's.  ¶ 8:54 AM 0 comments

  As time goes by...

You slow down. A friend told me recently that despite my age I would not become a forties man, but stay in my thirties. No kids, plenty of leisure time, disposable income, little social responsibility... And she is right, in a way. But nevertheless, I still feel the relentless passage of time.

It was brought clearly through at the company's Christmas party. First of all, I drank moderately, which probably set me apart from most others, so I did not join in the festive mood.
Then, once we left the restaurant and decided to continue the party, I was so out of it that I left at the fist place we visited, crowded and full of smoke and noise. Something that would describe most places open in this town at 3 am, specially in cold weather.

I enjoyed more the forty minutes walk back home than the rest of the evening.

Although this is not something new, as lately I tend to enjoy going out only when in certain company, or with increasingly unusual high degrees of intoxication, this is an event where social considerations made me make the effort to join in the fun (good work environment and all that) and hold on till dawn, at least.

But this time the disgust and boredom was too strong even for those social encouragements, so I left quite gracelessly, under the screen of a worsening head cold, helped by the obvious effect of the smoke.

Is there something in between the careless thirties and the overworked forties? And what seems more difficult, will there be company in that intermediate place, where you get separated from those with families and little time and as well those with few worries and plenty of festive spirit?  ¶ 5:40 PM 0 comments

  The complexity of life

Some weeks ago I tried to write about the strange effect that Broken Flowers, the last Jim Jarmush film with Bill Murray had in me. And to explain what I find in that film, as I do find in other films that are not so commonplace, mainly because they deal with commonplace people. But I got stuck, till a chat the other day brought back the glorious complexity of normal life.

I went on my own to the cinema. Ever since I saw Dead Man I have been tracking down all of his films, even if many of my acquaintances (or my wife) do not like them. Which is why I ended up going alone, at 11 pm. Something similar to what happens with his European elder, Wim Wenders. I am sure there must be some technical cinema-maker vocabulary for these "mundane quest" movies, whose typical example is, for me, Paris, Texas. People travel/live, and as they travel/live they change, to become something else. The origin and the end of the trip are often less important that what happens in-between, and even then it is usually quite normal, exceptional only in the combination of circumstances. That differentiates it from most films, where there is often a quest as well, but usually it is for something extraordinary, performed by extraordinary people. And the heroine, even if she finds true love™, does not really change. No, in these films I am interested today everything fits into a normal profile, and only its presentation makes you notice them.

They are more prevalent outside the USA, but when combined with the superb cinemamaking experience there and the excellent quality of acting that the US industry can offer, they tend to be noteworthy. And usually not very successful in commercial terms, but sometimes one resonates deeply and becomes a cult hit.

It takes somebody special to make the commonplace interesting enough to keep you sitting two hours. In Broken Flowers the merit goes to Bill Murray, who portrays so well a man who is unhappy but denies it, who wants to change but does not dare to, that he will seem sympathetic to anyone who has been in a similar situation. He plays the reluctant quester, being forced to embark on it. And then he has adventures, both good and bad and painful, that anyone could have as well. At the end, he arrives back home. But something is different. And you are left to decide for yourself how that change will affect his life, forcing the audience to make their own ending, because the film does not provide one. Again, as in life, where tidy endings are quite lacking.

I like these films, mostly, by the possibilities they open to see human behavior, and how they relate to what I would do in similar circumstances. So in a way, they relate to the voyeur in us. We can all dream to be a hero in extreme circumstances, or how many possibilities time traveling would open. Or an intelligent speculation on how the future will be. But not everyone does wonder on what is our neighbor thinking when she drives back home. It is a similar love of the complexities of common life what drives the interest in most types of introspective literature.

I like to think that I like these presentations of "normal" life as complex, baffling affairs, because that makes my own complex, baffling life easier to accept. That it helps to navigate our own doubts.

I do not mean that people who enjoy "simple" films have simple lives. I do enjoy as well many simple films. But I do think that to enjoy this mundanely complex stories, you need to be aware of the complexity in your own life.  ¶ 7:18 PM 0 comments

  Copenhagen

This is the first time all my planes have been in advance over the expected time. That allowed me to make a connection in Barcelona I could have missed, and gave me almost an extra hour to do nothing in London Stansted.

The Danes keep their houses, on average, 2-3 degrees colder than the Spaniards. But they put heating on the bathroom floor, which I believe more than compensates for it.

I had decided to see no monuments, but I got to see three. All very naturally, and without any stress, except for Tivoli. I had gone to see people, not stones. And what surrounds them. Besides, I got to see plenty of swords, a few of them very interesting.

It was a relaxing trip. Few photos, and most of those did not come out well. No schedules, except for the arrival and the departure. I slept well, which I had not expected. And was allowed to use a lot of dangerous machinery. I even speeded without a valid driving license, although I wonder if my Spanish receipt, written in Spanish, valid for ninety days since the 9th of November, would have served. Seeing their general attitude, I suspect it would have been accepted in Copenhagen, although I could have been in trouble in the countryside.

I received six SMSs, sent eight, and talked some five minutes on the phone. I received six mails, fifty notifications and a couple hundred of Spam messages, that being outside my own machine I got to see time and time again. I only sent four mails back. I listened twelve hours to my i-pod Shuffle, without recharge, and it still worked when I got back home. I wrote six pages in my notebook, one of which may appear here, some day. I tore the left pocket of my trousers, probably cooking. I believe in moving a lot while cooking. It did not snow, and although it rained for a while I did not get wet. I was better dressed for the weather than most people I met, just by chance. I sat for three hours in front of a TV set, but watched less that thirty minutes. The rest of the time, I felt Canadian (Coupland's Souvenir of Canada 1 and 2). I did not mind the disconnection from news, and refused a newspaper in the flight back.

I had expected to ride a bike, but did not. The lack of snow also forestalled some of my plans for the weekend as well. Danish language remained a mystery, despite my irrational belief that I would manage. But it did not matter much. I should have bought some books in the London stop. I know I will buy them, sooner or later. There were no other regrets, and I was sad but content when I took my plane back.  ¶ 10:30 PM 0 comments