Insane and Insensible




A few days ago, Mariana was trying to let me in on the philosophy behind the movie "Un chien andalou", by Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dalí. I don't know how or why the readings I'm doing for my final essay made me think about our discussion, but I took advantage of this flashback and looked up the movie on youtube. I found it, I watched it, I didn't understand much of it, of course, then I went on wikipedia, I understood a bit more, and I finally accepted the fact that I have to dedicate more time to deciphering this movie... as soon as possible. Until then, I only have one question: am I weird for not being repulsed or shocked by the famous shot of the eye getting cut by a knife? Buñuel himself said he placed that scene at the beginning so that people would enter a psychedelic state that would allow them to better absorb the surreal atmosphere of the movie. Am I already that dysfunctional or is it just that I've seen this scene too many times and read even more about it?

Stonehenge - Astrology, Religion or Medicine?

Although there’s no denying the beauty of Big Ben at sunset or the mesmerizing effect of the architecture of Westminster Abbey, Stonehenge is undeniably the English landmark that has always attracted most archeology aficionados and tourists eager to find out the secret hiding between its stones. Many theories regarding its original purpose have surfaced throughout decades, among which the most widely accepted portrayed Stonehenge as a sacred site, an astrological/ astronomical observatory, a primitive calendar or even a hiding place. Recent investigation has come to show that its most probable purpose was to serve as a healing place. The blue stones considered to have healing properties and the bones buried nearby support this theory and open the way for more advanced research.

Memories that Will Always Follow Me

I was new at Concordia. It was my second semester and I was still getting used to a system completely different from what I was used to. I felt inferior for not being Spanish, English or French native, at least, and I didn't think my ideas would be good enough for this demanding university and its professors. "Critical reading" was a course that announced itself to be very competitive. The first class only reinforced that idea on us, and all of my 11 colleagues from the previous Spanish course dropped it. I was alone, again, but I couldn't give up that easily. Surprisingly enough, I managed to "float" through grades of A- and A until towards the end. I felt encouraged by how interesting the readings were and by how our professor would help us see things we would've never thought of otherwise. All this energetic serenity was disrupted when for our final assignment we had to pick between Isabel Allende's "De barro estamos hechos" and J. L. Borges' s "Emma Zunz". The first text was fairly easy and most of my colleagues wanted to write their essay on that. Meanwhile, I could not understand anything from the Argentinian writer's short novel, but didn't want to have a work similar to the others. Therefore, when our professor set up appointments with each one of us, I took advantage of my allotted time and shared my dilemma with him. He told me that I could turn this essay into an attempt to understand Borges's work. "Of course", I said, "but what about my G.P.A.?" (grade point average) "I wouldn't want to destroy it because of such audacity." I will never forget his answer: "Of course there's always this risk, but you will never know until you've tried... and I think you can do it."

It was exactly what I needed. I spent more than one week fighting with "Emma Zunz", I kept on looking for that interesting idea I needed... and I finally found it. I managed to get A+ for the essay and A+ for the whole course. But it was about so much more than just that. He let me express myself and taught me to explore my ideas, no matter how stupid or irrelevant I thought they were. He encouraged me to look beyond my fear of public speaking and consider a teaching career. He made me be passionate about Golden Age literature, considering that I'm not that fond of literature studies. He determined me to take risks and dig beyond the surface. He came have a drink with us after class, although it was his birthday and he could have spent the evening at home. He told me he'd come shake my hand at graduation, although he'll be on sabbatical. He's everything I could wish for in a professor and a human being. I'm so fortunate to have had him as a professor and I could never forget what he has done for me.

Bebe - Malo

El ritmo de esta canción me da más fuerza cada vez que la escucho; nada que ver con las palabras, sólo el ímpetu y la determinación de la interprete. Ya me tiene obsesionada.

What the Hell Is Wrong with Me???

I must have too many things on my mind, otherwise I can't explain the stupidity of missing words in 3 out of 5 translations! I know I'm very worried about lots of stuff and that my mind wonders off with every minute, but it's never happened to me before, not even when I was really, really upset. I was laughing today when seeing that I had missed 4 words... thus loosing 3.6 points. I felt like hitting myself with a brick, but I could only laugh. What the hell? I thought I was stronger! Come on, Mirela, wake up and stop acting like that! The worse is yet to come.

Entre salidas y entradas

La cara miente siempre, porque ni nosotros mismos sabemos que hay adentro. La falta de expresión dice más que una mezcla de sonrisas, guiños y lagrimas. Y para qué seguir con la mentira, ¿quién y a dónde vuelve? Nadie, a ningún lugar. Tener sueño no quiere decir que puedas dormir.

Snowstorm Aftermath

Yesterday was the worst day I've ever got to live in Montreal. We knew it would be snowing, but the only things that could've prepared us for what we had to face would've been words like "typhoon", "don't leave your homes" or "you might freeze while walking". It usually takes me 10 minutes to get from the building I live in to the metro. And that's going uphill. Yesterday it took me half an hour to get home from the metro. And that's downhill. Small, icy flakes led by the fierce wind would bit my face, while my legs got lost in the snowy molasses and took their time resurfacing. If Gogol were alive, I would ask him to describe yesterday's scenery. But since that's not an option and since I couldn't take any photos yesterday because I had forgotten my camera (and, anyway, I might've frozen to death while trying to get such a souvenir), I can only post some photos of the aftermath. Unless you live in Siberia, don't ever let me hear you complain again about how much snow you have to deal with :-)!!!

This is what I found this morning
after opening the balcony door.


































Yup, these are cars!