EN: Warning: This post is over two years old, so it's possible that the views, opinions, links or instructions reflected on it do not correspond with the way I think now or the way things currently work. I have evolved (and so have the World and the Internet), so it might be advisable to just take this entry for a glimpse into the (my) past. 🙂

ES: Atención: Este artículo tiene más de dos años de antigüedad, de modo que los puntos de vista, opiniones e instrucciones que se vierten en él pueden no corresponder con cómo pienso ahora o cómo funcionan las cosas en la actualidad. He evolucionado (y también lo han hecho el mundo e Internet), así que probablemente lo más recomendable sería entender esta entrada como un simple reflejo del (de mi) pasado. 🙂

My fingers are numbed, like the other day: I have just come from cutting wood again, this time with the chain saw: I grab the log and my father cuts it. We do it every year, and my father usually treats me like if I were idiot or something. I don’t like arguing for the sake of it so I put my best face of “yes dad” mixed with a little bit of “go to hell, dad” and continue doing my way until my father gets tired of hearing himself complaining about what I do and realises we are doing the job quite quckly. It’s always that way…

I wanted to go to the main protests against terrorism in Pontevedra this evening, but my mother went to visit someone and my father wanted me to help him with that, so I got stuck in Tenorio cutting wood. We always have pacific protests like the ones we are having today all around Spain each time there’s a terrorist attack: we are used to them. It is true that this one is “a bit” different, but I didn’t insisted on going to Pontevedra: my parents find that kind of protests too sentimentalist. Me too, but I think they are important all the same.

Anyway, I participated in the general stop we had this morning for a quarter of hour. During 15 minutes from 12:00 to 12:15 everybody concentrated in public places such as schools, university campus, public squares and so on to show our disgust for these attacks. I was “the teacher” of a group of 27 15-year-old pupils today and we went donwstairs to “celebrate” the concentration with the students of the Social Sciences faculty which is in front of the High School I am teaching at. After that (it was thilling, I almost cry!), we went back to our classroom and gave my first whole lesson…

It was quite a dense topic: subordinate clauses, but I tried to be amusing (not too much, though, I don’t want to loose my dignity :P) and it seems they enjoyed the class: my tutor told me so later, so now I’m feeling more relieved than yesterday, when I were supposed to be finishing preparing that lesson but I couldn’t help watching and hearing all over again the news of the attacks.

Whatever, I am here in my comfortable country house instead of participating in the public demonstrations against ETA (I have no doubt they have been responsible of the attacks), but trying to show my simpathy for the victims (that includes all that have been affected by the attacks in some way) in all these ramblings I am writing down here…

Basta ya, puñetas… Basta ya

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