Conversation With A Stranger

A friend and I (the term 'friend' is used loosely here, as I have never met him & he's not on my contact list) were having a casual conversation, when he, let's call him Mr. X, contacted me to deliver a message from someone we both knew, but not able to contact me directly. At some point during the chat, he told me he had read one of my Blogs, had then checked me out in Google (!!), to see whether I had plagiarized what was written in my Blog. He justified his caution (to me, more of a suspicion) saying that many people do carry such practice. I don't doubt that. I myself have copied & pasted some materials, mostly jokes, some quotes, or some news emitted publicly. Anyway Mr. X's investigation had led him to pronounce me innocent.

Almost a compliment that somebody actually took the time and trouble to go as far as to check me out in Google!! I thought one has to be important, very good or extremely bad enough to make their mark there. I said my Blogs contained only my own thoughts, views and opinions. Should there be mistakes or people who don't agree with some or all of my views, well, like everybody else, I am entitled to express them, even to make mistakes, and that all my Blogs were for the public, as I had nothing to hide.

That last statement of mine started off a long discussion. Mr. X seemed to think that I do have something to hide, as I don't write about things closely connected with my personal life. He would have discovered, had he read a couple more of my Blogs and not just one, a great part of my life was indeed in many of them. He was certain, he said, that if he had asked me to, I wouldn't have written about, for instance, 'a roll in the hay with a Spaniard ' (my more discrete description of what he actually said; his was much more colourful version ). He was sure of that. So was I. Still am.

Why the hell should I write about something like that had it actually happened? My sex life is definitely nobody else's business. What he meant was, that my statement of my having nothing to hide (in my Blogs) was not correct. But I think it was. Correct I mean. Otherwise they would not carry the 'For the public' setting.

Those who have read more than one of my Blogs would, I should think, know me as a person much better than those who haven't, even if they have known me, for instance, as an acquaintance for years. I think a lot of me is in my Blogs although none of them was written as a diary.

What is a person, I said to him, but for his / her principals, beliefs, integrity, thoughts, views, ideas or ideals, and actions?

I chose not to write about many things not because I need to hide them from people. Simply the fact that I don't deem them suitable or interesting subjects for ME to write about, even though as he said many people would enjoy reading other people's sex lives. My Blogs are primarily for ME, not for other people, but I don't mind them reading if they choose to, that's all.

I also refrain from writing about religions, politics, or any other argument provoking themes. That doesn't mean I am hiding anything, simply because I have very clear idea or conviction about them in my mind and in my heart, therefore, no need to put them in text, less to publish them.

Tags:Stranger,Plagiarism

• Current Mood: annoyed

When You Travel Abroad ...

Not all news are bad after all. The Spanish Ministry of Foreign Affairs just repeated their announcement in 2008 their then new service, calling all residents' attention that they should register with this service provided whenever they travel abroad.

The service itself is not exactly new. Each year there are between 14 to 15 million Spanish travelling abroad, and they are usually registered in every country, but not as individuals heading for specific destinations. They should and can now do so easily online. www.maec.es

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs emphasised that the registration is not to control the travellers, but to facilitate support in case of any kind of incidents. As nearly nobody ever bothered to go to the nearest Consulate to register, such lack of information of the individuals concerned would result in uncertainties, investigation and thus delaying the support or diplomatic assistance in the case of accidents, police detention, or any catastrophes natural or incidental, etc.

Travellers are instructed to register the destination country they are visiting, hotel or private address where they would stay, travel companion, names and numbers of people to contact should there be necessity in the case of any incidents or accidents.

Not sure whether all other countries are also exercising this. A real sensible thing I think. Not sure either whether or not I should register. Although I am now a resident in Spain, I am not Spanish. Besides, I got nobody to inform about anything should I drop dead abroad. What a despondent thought!

Tags:ForeignTravel,Registration

• Current Mood: awake

A Hilarious Poem - 'I Wish I'd Looked After Me Tits

'Oh, I Wish I'd Looked After Me Tits'
by Pam Ayres, British comedienne/writer

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me dear old knockers,
Not flashed them to boys behind the school lockers,
Or let them get fondled by randy old dockers,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

'Cos now I'm much older and gravity's winning.
It's Nature's revenge for all that sinning,
And those dirty memories are rapidly dimming,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

'Cos tits can be such troublesome things
When they no longer bounce, but dangle and swing.
And although they go well with my Bingo wings,
I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When they're both long enough to tie up in a bow,
When it's not the sweet chariot that swings low,
When they're less of a friend and more of a foe,
Then I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When I was young I got whistles and hoots,
From the men on the site to the men in the suits,
Now me nipples get stuck in the zips on me boots,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When I was younger I rode bikes and scooters,
Cruising around with my favourite suitors.
Now the wheels get entangled with my dangling hooters,
I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When they follow behind and get trapped in the door,
When they're less in the air and more near the floor,
When people see less of them rather than more,

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits!

Tags:PamAires,Comedienne,Poem

• Current Mood: amused

Crabby Old Man

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Tampa, Florida, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, They found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

One nurse took her copy to Missouri. The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the St. Louis Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

'Crabby Old Man'

What do you see nurses? ... What do you see?
What are you thinking ... when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, ... not very wise,
Uncertain of habit ... with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food ... and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice ... 'I do wish you'd try!'
Who seems not to notice ... the things that you do.
And forever is losing ... A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not ... lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding ...The long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking? Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse ... you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am ... as I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding ... as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of Ten ... with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters ... who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen ... with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now ... a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty ... my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows ... that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now ... I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide ... And a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty ... My young now grown fast,
Bound to each other ... With ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons ... have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me ... to see I don't mourn.
At Fifty, once more ... Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children ... My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me ... My wife is now dead.
I look at the future ... I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing ... young of their own.
And I think of the years ... And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man ... and nature is cruel.
This jest to make old age ... look like a fool.
The body crumbles ... grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a stone ... where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass ... A young guy still dwells,
And now and again ... my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys ... I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living ... life over again.

I think of the years all too few ... gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact ... that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people ... open and see..
Not a crabby old man. Look closer... see ... ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within ... we will all, one day, be there too, if we are lucky!

The best and most beautiful things of this world can't be seen or touched. They must be felt by the heart.

Tags: Poem,OldMan,Anonymous

• Current Mood: accomplished