A peek on me before having more time in order to write more

Hola de regreso. Mazatlán estuvo bien, ya habrá tiempo de contar despues, por ahora "hay que estudiar, hay que estudiar, porque si no de "polecía" vas a acabar..."(nota al pie)

Current song playing on iPod: "Secret" by The Pierces

Book on the nightstand: "Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West" by Gregory Maguire

Ideal Vacation Destination: New York, USA

Childhood Crush: A cute girl named Raquel

Favorite Afterschool Activity: Locution and broadcasting courses.

Favorite School Subject: History and LatinAmerican Literature

Favorite Website: The cool hunter

Favorite Food: Kibbe with Jocoque

Favorite Video Game: The Madden Series, as well as Guitar Hero

Favorite Magazine: Wired

Favorite Reality Shows: Xtreme makeover- home edition and The apprentice

Phone of Choice: Sony ericsson

Dream Job: TV and Radio figure, novelist, poet, Magazine editor, Rock star.

Nota al pie: canción cantada por bándalos aficionados al futbol cuando andán molestando policias aplacadores-pero-sin-presencia-porque-son-gorditos-y-molestables. Espero no poner muchas de esta canciones populares por aquí...

Je je je

Byep

And by the moment I opened my eyes, I had been woken up by an angel...

Yep, that´s right; I know it couldn´t get cheesier than that but hey, lets face it: She came by, she just shook my leg a bit so that I could wake without any surprise...And I didn´t expect to see her. Mh... Ah yeah, And she was beautiful. Well in fact she is. It would be nice if everyone could get one of this "nice awakenings" any time in their weeks.

Ok, by now you may have seen that there are some new widgets just here---------------->

Well, It´s just to get a bit more cool around here. By now there is a blue square that contains a countdown to NFL Draft. That´s when college football players get chosen by a Pro Football team. Just for you to know.

I have to tell you lots of things, but I´ve just finished exams and I can´t find the camera with the photographs I took in Guanajuato. So I´ll return soon full of new things to tell...

Tak care and see you soon.

Acerca de la pofesión...

MUCHA GENTE a lo largo del tiempo ha estado preguntando si sería periodista en México. Cierto es que la respuesta es un cuasi no (porque a pesar de que entrvistaría y demás no es mi ilusión). Sin embargo, a la par han habido críticas cuando menciono que sería mi sueño trabajar en Estados Unidos ejerciendo el periodismo; sobre todo el de caracter deportivo.

¿Por qué? Bueno, tengo un ejemplo. Los "por qué´s" los explicaré mas a fondo de forma personal mas adelante. Wright Thompson, periodista reconocido en Estados Unidos por su participación constante y acertada en ESPN: The Magazine y Sports Illustrated publicó esto el día de hoy, con respecto al retiro del enorme Brett Favre (ahora ex-mariscal (alias: el que pasa la bola a los demás) de los Green Bay Packers (equipo de la NFL). Esta tomado de http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=3276537:

Brett, we miss you already

By Wright ThompsonESPN.com(Archive)
Updated: January 21, 2008


Nelson Chenault/US Presswire
It's unlikely we'll ever see another NFL quarterback play with Brett Favre's reckless abandon.
I'm going to miss Brett Favre.

I'll miss the stories. One afternoon, sitting at Favre's Family Restaurant with his mama, Bonita, before the hurricane turned that place into a concrete slab, I heard her talk for a long time about the little boy who grew up to be so beloved. One time, he and his brothers caught an alligator with marshmallows and tied the mean, snapping bastard to their swing set. She laughed. "I'm still hearing things they did out in those woods," she told me. And she said his toughness began out in those swamps, too. "It seemed I'd walk into the emergency room," she said, "and they'd say, 'Oh, I know, Favre.'"

I'll miss him turning Southern traits into something positive. Like Favre, I'm from Mississippi. Just that name carries horrible -- and deserved -- connotations. But Brett ... The things we've always valued about ourselves, the toughness, the wildness, the exuberance, those things were suddenly treasured. Brett Favre made it cool to be from Mississippi. He seemed small town, and the rest of the NFL seemed anything but. It's sprawling, corporate. It's a cubicle. Brett Favre is a farm, and I think, deep down, we all miss our agrarian roots. If Tom Brady is what America is, then Favre is what America was and, sometimes, I think we wish we could have that America back. (Sorry for channeling Ken Burns. Won't happen again.)

I'll miss television folks calling him a gunslinger. I never thought I'd say that. At the end, it had gotten ridiculous. Is there some sort of checklist before a broadcast from Green Bay? Hairspray? Check. Reminder to say "gunslinger" every 3.2 seconds? Check. But, hey, writers do it, too. The words "Brett Favre" and "gunslinger" have appeared together in the big American newspapers a whopping 1,578 times. The first? 1992. Don Majkowski was starting quarterback for the Packers but there was this new kid who'd come in during a preseason game and moved the team better. "Brett is a talented young guy," Mike Holmgren said then. "He's like an old gunslinger. He wins a lot of shootouts, and then a couple blow up." A month later, playing the Bengals, Majkowski was injured. Favre threw a game-winner with just 13 seconds left. It had begun.

I'll miss the picks. I'll miss them even more than the touchdowns, though he holds the all-time records for both. For it was in failure that we saw how much Favre wanted to win. He wanted to win so badly he was willing to lose. Not just lose. He was willing to be the goat for a shot at being the hero. So many quarterbacks are poor timid souls who've known neither victory nor defeat. Game managers. Not our man. He knew defeat 288 times. There is something poetic about his last pass as a professional ending up in an interception.

I'll miss the pills, and the drinking, and the stories about rehab. Favre wasn't perfect. None of us are. But in his imperfections lay his humanity. He was capable of failure like any of us, and therefore his successes seemed even more amazing. He was real, in a league that often seems anything but.

I'll miss him showing up for work. It didn't matter what was hurting him, Favre came to play. There are many ways to measure it: 253 consecutive regular-season starts, 275 if you count the playoffs. The matrix doesn't matter; the stubbornness behind it does. There are all sorts of records, and one day Peyton Manning or Tom Brady might overtake those. But this record, this is the one that defines Favre. He played because he wanted to, because he needed to, maybe because he even valued this streak more than any of us know. But he played. Every single Sunday.

I'll miss the fart jokes. Talk to someone who knows Brett and it won't take long to find out that even as a 38-year-old, he liked some bathroom humor. Last season, when he was this quote-unquote elder statesman, late in the fourth quarter of an important game, the Packers smelled something truly awful in the huddle. I mean, like something had crawled inside someone's butt and died. Later, one of his teammates asked if he'd done it. Favre laughed and said, "No, but that one smelled so bad I wish I did." We love that about Favre. Because he always seemed like a kid out there, and, truth is, he was. He wasn't that much different than the little boy luring swamp gators with marshmallows. Quarterbacks are technicians now. They make reads and step up to the line and follow game plans that look like something out of D-Day. And that might win games -- hell, Trent Dilfer won a Super Bowl -- but it doesn't inspire little boys.

I'll miss my daddy. That's what Favre's retiring makes me think about. When Big Irv died, and Brett came out and played the game of his life on that Monday night in Oakland, with his teammates and his fans and a nation of mourners, I watched that game with my own father. He was sick then, and I knew what he was thinking. He saw himself as Irv, and he saw me as Brett. We tried to talk a little about it, but words about such things don't come easy. So we just cried, and we understood. It was the closest we ever came to talking about how I would be after he'd gone, except for the time he, without explanation or further discussion, looked me in the eyes and said, "You take care of your mother, son." We sat upstairs, and we cheered. Then the game ended, Favre said a few words and that was that. I forgot about it. Only, when my father died about nine months later, I thought of that game. For days I was in a fog. I had conversations that I still cannot remember having. I spoke, and I smiled, and I did my best, thinking, from time to time, about Favre, and what he must have felt running out on that tunnel. And, when I went back to work a few weeks later, flying into Miami to write a story, I again thought of Favre. He was my inspiration: if that S.O.B. could play a football game after losing his daddy, I could write a simple story.

I'll miss believing anything is possible. That's why watching a football game he played in was fun. You just never knew what he might do, either brilliant or idiotic, and you got the sense he didn't really know either. A lot of people, me included, will tell you pro football is boring. It's predictable and balanced and risk-averse. But there was always one guy who played the pro game like he was still in Hattiesburg at Southern Mississippi. We will all miss that.

I'll miss Kiln, where this crazy journey began. I watched the last game he ever played there, at this Redneck dive called the Broke Spoke. Looking back, it was like we were all celebrating the end of something that we'd never see again. During halftime, the owners of the bar had called up Brett's brother, who was watching the game at Lambeau. Then they handed out shots of the famous Kiln moonshine and the owner called out, "We're gonna do a shot with Jeff Favre." Everyone downed the white lightning, and it burned going down. Once, a lot of folks drank liquor like this. That was a long time ago. Hell, the woods where the stills once smoked and belched are now property of NASA. An hour or two later, the game ended, it all ended, and no one would ever see Favre throw a football in the NFL again. The crowd thinned. The campfires burned themselves out. An era was over.

Y así es. Los deportes van mas allá de lo que entretienen los fines de semana. Los deportes conviven con la gente y los atletas que aparecen en el estadio para jugar son inspiración para las personas; como ejemplo lo dicho sobre la muerte del padre de Favre comparada con la del padre de Thompson. Los deportes nos permiten ser mejores intentando no rendirnos, quizá por eso que me emocione tanto la idea...

Pero bueno, hay una historia más acerca de Favre y una pequeña de nueve años. Vale la pena de verdad. Chequenla en http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2007/magazine/specials/sportsman/2007/12/05/point.after1210/index.html?eref=T1

de verdad vale la pena...(y es cortita)

Citius. Altius. Fortius...

amin.

At last... a hint

There are times when you really don´t know who you are... Maybe that is why now is the moment to have an In depth profile about myself:



A Gentleman´s Walking Diaries In depth profile on The Shah of Blah:

Lives with: Dad, Mom and little sister, Instructor in Body Combat, in a place in Mexico City.

Likes: Intelligent and cute-smiling women, Read every newspaper that gets to his hands, The "Centro Histórico",Tea, Movies that leave a sweet taste in your mouth (even if they have scary or dramatic things), Haroun and the sea of stories, Harley- Davidson, Superheroes, To enjoy time with himself (a kind of healthy loneliness) reading, writing, chocolate milk, Columbia, Girls in trendy tights, good values, saving the day, politics (a bit), sharing time with friends, Guitar, Sports, Music, To feel too cool to care about the world.

Dislikes: Pretentious-mean people, Gory movies, rumors and too much drama, Juniors who can pay all the academic classes they fail, alarm clocks, Girls who call themselves "plastic", Economics , Avocado, too much loneliness (when somebody is needed),Negative people, Brown suits, No inspiration.

Best Friends: J.E.A.P., El josh, El tut, El gero

Current Crush: Blake Lively, the real one is gossiped to be named...(nope, too changing to be real)

Favorite fashion accessories: Berets and tennis shoes

Favorite places in Mexico City: Parque Lincoln, MUNAL, Cinemex Altavista, Condesa DF, Coyoacán (Only when with friends, especially with "el duque de Coyoacán, since it´s his territory), Anywhere books are sold (specially gandhi when there is no people disturbing you [aka: helping you]), Polanco, The coffe just in front of the Palacio de Bellas artes, The coffe in Madero, La maison Francaise de The Caravanserai, Antara, Parque México, The cafeteria area in "Sanborn´s de los azulejos", Matisse.

Favorite Music: Feist, Ghosts, Mika, New Amsterdams, Sinatra (Frank not Nancy), Kooks, One Republic, Travis, Yanni, Cat Power, Snow Patrol, Regina Spektor, Robbie Williams, Augustana, Virgins, Natalie Imbruglia, Oasis, Queen, Diana Krall, Band of horses

Favorite Authors: Jaime Sabines, Alessandro Baricco, Shakespeare, Tim Burton, J.M. Altamirano, Salman Rushdie, Cortazar, Breigbeder, Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle, Gregory Maguire, J.E.A.P., Yamil Narchi, Helenita scissorerial killer.

Favorite Movies: Big Fish, Men of honor, Field of dreams, Citizen Cane, Breakfast at Tiffany´s, Reconstruction, Hook, Matando Cabos, Batman Begins, The Godfather (all the parts, specially the second) Corpse Bride, Casa Blanca, V for vendetta, Fight Club, The devil wears Prada, Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, Indiana Jones, Casablanca, Juno.

Favorite designers: Um...I guess it woud be Ermenegildo Zegna or Hugo Boss, but he just wears whatever looks and feels best.

Favorite TV Shows: Smallville, Anything on Discovery Travel, Gossip Girl, Saturday night live, The apprentice, La divina palabraExtreme Makeover Home edition (but not to often ´cause it can make him drop some tears), The Office, Lost, Malcolm in the middle, Friday night lights.
Heroes: Superman , King Arthur, Adrian Peterson, Sherlock Holmes, Thristran Thorne (although he´s kind of dumb)

Favorite Motto: "There's a time when a man needs to fight and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny's lost, the ship has sailed and that only a fool will continue. The truth is I've always been a fool."

Own Motto: "I follow my own life´s Philosophy: Live well, Laugh often, Love Much, Look Sharp and Live Smart.

Well, it seems as it has been all worht the hours thinking.

The song (video) works only to listen while you read, the video itself does not mean anything. Still the song just rocks!

Thats it!

Take care, and listen to "la tamalada" on Thursday (10 pm., click where it says radio.)

Thanks!

Que resulta que sí es cierto eso de que "con un gran poder viene una gran responsabilidad"...

¡Que miedo! Todo empezó cuando por razones de h... flojera decidí poner en el buscador de google "walkingdiaries.". Todo por la flojera de escribir blogspot.com... y fui direccionado al mundo de la googlesphere....

Y aparecieron 4 links... 3 de ellos parte de buscadores que arrojaban lo mismo. el cuarto... ¡un foro de fans de Maria Inés! Sí, de esa que salió de la Academia, ¡esa!

La razón: Una vez realizé una reseña (escrita de la misma forma en que está informalmetne hecho este espacio) sobre el musical "El diluvio que viene". Ahí hablé de como ya noestá llena de granitos y de lo bien que quedaba en la obra...

Pues bueno, una tal suzi, creo que era, puso en un foro de fans (haganme el favor) de la niña esta que qué me pasaba que por que ella era la onda y así de "te quiero mil ocho mil la mejor del mundo Inesita"...

Por un lado está bien, digo, cada quien tiene su opinión y sus gustos. Por otro lado está mejor, porque la gente empieza a hablar del blog...

(by the way, and talking about other people: who the gosh is yeyamon? thanks for writing anyway your comments, he he.)

Pero creo que no está por ningún motivo chevere echarte encima a los fans de la niña esta... jajaja


Por cierto, intenté hacerlo con varios blogs más, pero los nombres de Calle poesía, lady stardust learning... earthly... exa... que son los que intenté los ha tomado muchísima gente. Aun así googleense! a ver si no les pasa algo parecido, je je.


Ah... y "sicierto": El post de hoy tenía como plan hacer referencia de como veinte peliculas, aprox. ja ja; pero esto me sacó de onda por completo y pues ya será para luego.

Dejó el video de hasta arriba porque no ma, que poder, me hace feliz la rola, el acento y lo q dice el coro. Is meant to be.



Ciao, I really love her because the way she moves, oh yeah, he he.

Que resulta que mañana es...

Sip... San Valentín!

El punto es que quedé de ver a una amiga que hace tiempo no veia... y ahora me doy cuenta que es 14 y que mi invitación por si sola pareciera que hubiera tenido mas de un sentido....

¡Ahhh! eso pasa por no saber el día en el que vives.... ja ja ja

Pasenla cool los que sí hicieron planes "friamente calculados" y los que no pero tienen muchos a quienes querer... pues quieranlos siempre.

Por último. Un video de mi para todos. Habría que subirnos en un camión así alguna vez;)



Venga! 1234

About being "Lonely boy"

Bueno, por principio: El chiste de ser Lonely boy es, en algún momento, llegar a ser "Not so lonely boy"... Lo mejor es que ahora todo esta hecho para que funcione perfecto. New beginnings rule! And even more when you know how the final prototype should be. That mainly because I´ve been it before...

Uh... kinda mysterious, eh? Well, at least maybe you can forget the sady, shadowy moments. They´ve been left forever in a wardrobe far away from this country.

Ahora: ¿Por qué los grupos del post anterior tendrían que ver con una "galancilla melómana"?

Ja ja ja. Debo decir que para mi fortuna me conocen demasiado bien. Lo que me hace recordar que necesito hablar con Miss Kindred Spirit soooooon. (sooner even than all the o´s I wrote in that word, he he)



Y finalmente, ¡ La respuesta!: (Redoble de tambores turuturuturuturuturuturuturuturut)(creo que así hacen los tambores, pero la verdad no me había tocado pasar sonidos tarolescos a un blog, asi que imaginenselos mejor como les gusten... ah sí, y olvidense de esto último que si no no llegamos a la respuesta, ja ja ja):



Los grupos vienen de mi nuevo " big, enormous, kind of girlie (but still too respectable) pleasure". Por eso esta foto: (yep, is kind of "its so me" and "so not me but I´m working on it to be like that" ha ha ha)







Sin embargo, y a expensas de que alguien más se anexe al café al adivinar de donde es ésta foto, el café va para Miss Glam y Miss Kindred Spirit! (I´ll get really sooooon in touch with you, angry fatale bloggers, ha ha.)


(Ah, sí; debo de dejar de escribir tantas oooooooo´s en sooooooon, je je)


La respuesta final en el siguiente blog.


Y por cierto, ser el famoso "Lonely boy" trae muchas mejores cosas de lo antípatico y depresivo que pudiera sonar... believe me;)


Hey, anytime man!


P.D. Feliz Natal para "La sirenita a punto de graduar." ¡Y a la instructora! ¡Casi 18 ya!