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The Way I See Blogging

Well I was thinking of blogs, and I was thinking that I have ambivalent feelings about them. On the one hand I find them lots of fun, I myself personally enjoy reading blogs very much. You feel free to say anything that you want on a blog.

But on the other hand, I find that, well, you do wonder, what is the point of a blog anyways? It’s just a hobby. It doesn’t do anything for you.

Most blogs that you can find out there you will see that they were written mainly for and usually foremost as a way for the blogger to keep in touch with family and friends who live far away. You can tell that by the comments, where most of the people who write in obviously know the blogger well and comment on things about the blogger that it’s clear they didn’t get that information from the blog, because you’ve read the whole blog through and there is nothing in the blog about what the people are commenting. Like for example, the blogger’s real name, which apparently all the commenters know in spite of the fact that the blogger never uses his real name in the blog, etc.

Senselessness

So in that sense you can clearly see that keeping a blog is a hobby. It’s a hobby that makes sense for people who have lots of family and friends who live far away who read the blog as a way to keep in touch with the blogger.

And as a side effect it also entertains complete strangers, like me.

Now, I personally LOVE reading OTHER people’s fantastic and amazing blogs. They are life-changing for me, I’m most happy that they exist and that I get to read them. Peruse them. Devour them! Admire them.

I just mainly have a gripe with my own blog. With this one.

I find that, on the other hand, for someone like me to keep a blog, when no one I know personally reads it, well, you do sort of feel like you are writing into a vacuum.

You aren’t really writing the blog for anyone, because the people that you know don’t read it anyways. And unlike a website you aren’t writing it to give information which you hope will help people either. So, what and who in the world ARE you writing it for??

Flowers for the Dead on The Day of the Dead

The day after Halloween is the Day of the Dead.

Red Flowers in a Field

In the US people don’t usually think too much about that. For Americans, Halloween means trick or treatin’, jack o’ lanterns and maybe some good, homemade pumpkin pie with cider. And that’s about it. A fun time for kids. A good excuse to get together with the neighbours.

But in other parts of the world, November 1 is the Day of the Dead. It’s when you remember your dead, your loved ones on the other side.

People take flowers to cemeteries. They meet up with relatives to remember and reminisce.

Well, everyone has their own theory as to what happens when people die. I have friends who suffer, because they believe that the soul does not exist or that if it does, it is not immortal. They believe that their loved ones were just simply extinguished out of being, like a candle flame, upon their death.

Now, I am not a psychic medium. But I think it must be a most joyous gift, to be able to share such a faculty with the world, to be able to help relieve the pain of the bereaved with messages from loved ones who have passed on.

Not who have died. Just simply, who have passed on. To a new life. To “the West” as Tolkien liked to refer to it in his symbolic and unique manner.

I realize that probably a lot of people will not agree with me, or WANT to agree with me. They probably have their own theories as to what happens when we die.

Maybe they fear plunging helplessly like puppets into purgatory. Or worse, perhaps, like my friends, they expect to just become snuffed out and cease to exist, forever.

Flowers for the Dead

Well, for those who don’t like what I have to say or object to it, I can only remind them of what Shakespeare said:

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Carlos Castaneda’s mythic Don Juan put it pretty nicely too, when he exclaimed: “The world around us is a great mystery.”

No, no one can claim to know it all.

But we’re all free to espouse our own beliefs. And I suppose it must have become quite clear, from this post so far, that I DO believe in an “afterlife”. I do believe in souls and that these souls live on, and just simply move into a different dimension, another world.

I believe that, as you can read about here in this article about unhappy earthbound spirits, ghosts and the happily fulfilled people who DO make it painlessly and effortlessly into the “afterlife”, souls reside temporarily in a spirit world between incarnation and incarnation – until, of course, they finally reach that happy, blissful moment where reincarnation is no longer a requirement in their spiritual evolution.

Life on earth, with its unpredictable and anguish-filled ups and downs, its passion and great joys, is a school. A place to learn what you need to know to become a better being, a greater soul.

And where do students go when school is out?

They go home, of course!

And that is what the spirit world is.

But you keep coming back to earth because, well, quite simply, you haven’t graduated yet.

But don’t worry. One day you will.

And so will your loved ones.

And then, at that point, you and your loved ones may remain together forever in the grand and mysterious spirit world, carrying out your work, enjoying “spirit” life, taking more classes up in those lighter realms. You can do this in the company of your loved ones, or not.

Or you may have different interests from your loved ones, and in that case, you can simply meet up together after “work”, or when “school” is out, up there in the etheric dimension. Pretty much the same way as you do with your friends here on earth.

But until that day arrives, you can still meet up with them and spend your time together, up there in the spirit world, between lifetime after lifetime.

And when you are temporarily separated, because they are dead and YOU are not, you can remember them on All Saints’ Day. On the Day of the Dead.

Red Roses

Unfair Competition

Unfair competition is getting me depressed.

Lately people want me to lower my prices to about 6€ an hour. I don’t know about you but I’m sure in the States you wouldn’t pay ANYONE 6€ an hour for ANYTHING. Not your cleaning lady, not your babysitter. Not anyone. 6€ an hour is not even minimum wage, not even here in Spain.

However those of us who work in the black market – and I do admit that I work in the black market, but I do so because no one is offering jobs in this depressed and poverty-stricken city where local unemployment is at over 36%, and if we don’t work on the black market, then we don’t work, and if we don’t work we don’t pay our bills, our rent or feed our families – as I was saying those of us who work in the black market can’t really complain, protest or report anyone anywhere. We just have to take it or leave it.

Or move out to a more prosperous region. If we can afford it, that is.

If I don’t agree to charge 6€ an hour, there are 10 more people in line waiting for my work. And some of them are even willing to work for free.

As I said, unfair competition.

Blank Wall in blue

A blank wall, because this is what you get when you hire someone for free. Because in life you DO get what you pay for. Well, blank walls are good on your home, perhaps............

They are willing to work for free because they are loafing around in their parents’ homes where they are more than adequately fed, clothed and warmed by the heater (well air conditioner, more precisely, especially in the hot summers that we enjoy here). So all they want is to earn a little pocket money so that they can go out for a drink on Friday evenings, or spend the whole night in a disco. Let’s face it, a drink and a night of dancing on the town cost a lot of money!

However their drinking and dancing all night is depriving my children of their daily bread.

We just spent a whole weekend where I couldn’t even buy a loaf of bread for my kids to eat the whole weekend long. No bread, no potatoes, not even a brik of milk. I was cleaning the bathroom with toilet paper because we couldn’t afford a roll of kitchen paper towels. (All right I admit I’m not the pickiest house-cleaner around, I’m sure others have a whole stash of every brand name of everything. Me, just bleach and some paper towels – when I can afford them, that is.)

And the reason for this is because of negotiations the whole week long with potential new clients. Clients who want me to lower my prices because there are 10 other eager workers waiting in line willing to work for free.

Yes, for free.

So, it doesn’t matter that these free-wage workers are teenagers with no experience, who haven’t even completed their high school studies and therefore their knowledge would be more or less at a par with that of their students, who are also high school kids.

It doesn’t matter that it’s even possible that these “teachers” know even less than their students.

It doesn’t matter, because they’re free!

So what is the point, you might ask, of people working for free anyways?

Well, you get work experience, so essential in a city where unemployment is at 36% and the rate for people who have never worked before shoots up to a whopping 50%!!

(Although I believe that the rate for us foreigners and ex-pats would probably be somewhere closer to 100%, but who cares about foreigners anyways? I mean, if you don’t like it, just pack your bags and go home!)

You get references. And references are very important in a culture where who-you-know counts more than your curriculum vitae.

And if you work for free, you can always harbour the hopes that your clients will like you so much that next year, when you decide to begin charging for your services – you will, of course, still charge a very low, modicum price, however, say 3€ an hour maybe? – your clients will be willing to pay you in order to retain your services, because they were very pleased with you.

All right, so why should I charge for my services when others are doing my job for free? (Other than, of course, that I need the money to live on and to feed my kids.)

Well, I’m a native English speaker. So no matter how you look at it, I will inevitably speak English better than any Spanish high school student who has only studied English for 2 years, like their own pupils. The only difference being that these free-wage teachers have probably gotten an “A” at school in English class whereas their pupils probably failed English.

I have many years of experience teaching English, so I can identify people’s difficulties and weak points and give them solutions, to help them solve their problems. I can also teach any kind of student, from children to elderly people.

However, who cares about that? People don’t want English classes for their preschool kids or for their elderly parents. They don’t need the services of a native speaker. They just want the bare minimum so that their lazy teenager, who wasn’t paying any attention in his classes at school and hates English and will never, ever use it in his lifetime, can pass his exams.

Besides which, what have they got to lose? After all, it’s free, right?

And at the very worst, the only thing that could happen is that their free English teacher is very, very bad, the lazy teenager flunks again and they would only have lost one school year.

So then they can start all over again next year. After all, there are more free English teachers out there. Maybe the next one in line will turn out to be better than his predecessor.

Or maybe they might just start considering the possibility of hiring a paid teacher next time round.

But that won’t happen till next year.

Or until the economy gets better and the crisis goes away.

Childhood Friends

Childhood friends are the sweetest, most devoted friendships that there are. Those relationships that you pick up with other kids your age, while both of you are still young and single and childless. During that time of life there are no romantic or sentimental partners to take you away from each other, no children to occupy all of your time. You don’t have a job or a demanding boss, so your flexible hours let you and your best buddy spend all your time together, inseparable. You can go shopping, to the cinema or just hang out.

Remember when you used to just “hang out” with your friends, on the street, in the malls, by the boardwalk maybe? What happened to those times? What happened to those friends?

Optical Illusion Vase-FaceMost of my childhood friends now live thousands of kilometres away from me. I don’t know what some of them are up to now. Others share anecdotes and letters through Facebook or e-mail. But we don’t see each anymore, of course, and we don’t hang out together, obviously.

One of my best friends got married to an Australian and moved to the other side of the world.

Another wonderful mate who was inseparable from me also got married. Her new hubby had a dramatically different lifestyle from the one my friend and I were used to. She changed her way of living for him, and now we never see each other anymore. Something about me being too “hippie” for her very formal and reputation-conscious hubby……….

The friends I make now just aren’t the same. Burdened with the onerous task of earning money to support a family, weighted down by drudging work schedules, pressured by sentimental partners to devote more time to them and adapt their activities to the preferences of these partners. The friends you make once past a certain period in your life just don’t have the same devotion and availability. The days when they “hang out” anywhere, with anyone who isn’t a romantic interest, a child or a boss have long passed and washed away down the drain.

I wonder if any of the people “my age” remember what it was like to just “hang out”? To just be around with a friend who wasn’t a child, the mother of a child or a romantic interest? Maybe they’ve just gotten bored with that.

Hot Muggy September Nights

Tonight was just one of those lovely hot muggy late summer nights here on Spain’s sunny southern Costa del Sol. At midnight we were still enjoying temps of around 30ºC. (that’s 90ºF. guys). So we went out for a midnight stroll by the sea, stopped for some frozen yogurt (it was definitely NOT frozen!) and kids spent a whole hour dashing about the park. How kids can run for one hour non-stop and still be fresh as roses is one of life’s grand mysteries.
Red Roses

We returned home along the seaside promenade. Beach restaurants offering typical fried fish and wood-baked sardines on a stick – a Malaga specialty – at discount prices now that it’s September. But there was no one about to take advantage of this bargain. It was Sunday night, girls and guys gotta go to work, kids have school. So no late nights anymore. Not even when it’s hot and muggy and lazy.

We watched a pussy cat playing with its dinner, a poor little freaked-out, death-pale lizard. A glowing cruise ship or ferryboat took off for Africa on the other side of the darkness. And that was it.

So this is my life, fellas. No bells or whistles. No Indiana Jones exploits on a daily basis. Just a pleasant walk in the “cool” night breeze and school runs in the early morning.

Beach Bucket

Subways Around the World

Well I was sitting around thinking about what sorts of things I like to read about in a blog. And I thought, well, in a blog, I like to read about places that people go to visit, things that they see there, who do they meet, what do they eat or drink. I like to read about restaurants that they go to and who they go with, what they talk about and what they eat.

I like blog posts about walks in the country, and what it was like to walk through the countryside. What the people saw and did there. Not great, dramatic, Indiana Jones type strolls through the world. Just little observations.

I was telling a friend that I like to read blog posts that say things like: well we went for a holiday in NYC and we found the subways really crowded. People in the subways in NYC are very strange because no one looks at anyone. The lights go off all the time but no one gets anxious, it’s normal over there. (I say this, of course, because I live in a place where it’s not normal for the lights to go off all the time on the subways, here if the lights go off, there’s an emergency!)

Or on the other hand, I might like to read: in Barcelona the subways are really neat, you can watch TV while you are waiting for the train so you don’t get bored, because there are televisions on the platform. There is also a sign that counts down the seconds till the next train is supposed to arrive.

So then I thought I’d make a blog post about subways around the world. Maybe it’s not the most transcendental, thought-provoking, wisdom-infused sort of topic that could occur to me. But, well, if someone else were to write a post about subways in places I had never been to, I know I would be interested in reading about it.

And it’s always nice to blog about things you would like to read about in other blogs. I think.

Well, so, let’s begin with NYC then. As I said, in NYC people never look at each other. In the subways I mean. And people tend to edge away from creepy looking fellows. The subways are very noisy – or at least they were when I was there, many years ago. There were also trains that drove straight through the station with a deafening zzzzzzzziiiiiiiiiiing!!! without stopping, if I recall. No wonder people found it easy to commit suicide there.

Once again I say that because it contrasted with the subways I was used to. So let’s talk about the subways I was used to.

Until I went to New York City I had only ever seen subways in Montreal. Subways (called metros) in Montreal are really neat. They “sing” when they take off. They are (or were) sky blue in colour, very distinctive from other trains that I’ve seen. And they looked very clean and new too.

Well, I’ve already mentioned subways in Barcelona. The ones in Madrid, on the other hand, are quite a nightmare. The reason is because of their ex-cru-ci-a-ting slooow-neeess! I used to live by a line where the train always seemed to sit about half an hour on the track without moving – and I didn’t live anywhere near the end of the line, either. It wasn’t near the centre of the city or on a very popular route, but then again, shouldn’t they make all the lines equally efficient?

If you have the time and can get over this little hassle, however, I do recommend that you drop by the Goya metro station. There you can see, all along the walls, engravings by Spain’s famous anti-war painter and artist, Francisco de Goya.

Well I guess by now you might be waiting to hear about more populous metropoles. Who cares about metros in Montreal or Barcelona anyways, right, you might be thinking. It’s not like lots of people go to Montreal or Barcelona anyways.

All right. So, how about Paris? Romantic ads in a romantic Romance language decorating all the walls. World-famous names like L’Arc de Triomphe or Champs-Élysées for every station. I remember being quite dazzled by the metro there, because it was the first time I had seen TV screens and flashing signs in a subway station. Since then I’ve discovered a few more, however (such as Barcelona for example), so they no longer dazzle me. How quickly we get accustomed to things, I do say!

The London tube is a real labyrinth. It takes forever to get anywhere on it, and you have to go up and down lots of stairs (fortunately they’re mechanical stairs) all the time in order to change lines. Many train lines also pass through the same set of tracks, so you have to be looking out all the time to make sure you read where each train is going before you board it, or you will not end up at your desired destination.

I remember encountering the first and only wooden mechanical stairs I have ever seen in London tube stations. I believe (but wouldn’t know because it has been ages since I last passed through this fascinating city) that they’ve since been changed for the more normal, conventional metallic escalators due to fire hazards.

In London the people are always rushing around. They are looking at the floor, or at their briefcases or their watches. It’s a different sort of apathy from what you could encounter in NYC, however. In New York City people were hostile, distrustful. Almost paranoid you could say. They deliberately hardened their hearts in order to ride a train in New York, and they watched their own backs.

In London, however, people weren’t hard, or hiding beneath a tough armour. They were just simply distracted, worried. They always looked like they were afraid they were going to arrive late for something.

Although I suppose if you have to depend on the subway, in any city, it’s almost inevitable that you will arrive late much of the time.

Now, Rome is another story altogether. It’s very difficult to get anywhere on the subway in Rome, because the system avoids much of the centre of the city. Too many valuable archaeological sites there. So it’s nice, because it’s always nice to be able to count on some sort of transportation that isn’t dependent on the fickleness of street-level traffic patterns. But it may take you a long time to get where you want to go if you have to by-pass the centre all the time. And chances are good that there may be no metro at all in the vicinity of where you want to go.

People on the metro in Rome are very nice, though. They don’t look all stressed-out like in London, nor do they look like they think you’re going to murder them all the time like they do in New York.

Mexico City, Mexico D.F., is one of the world’s greatest cities. It is so vast and extensive, even an airplane takes quite some time to cover over this territory. As you can imagine, its metro system is also humongous. However, in one of the stations (I don’t remember the name, sorry) they have a bewitching display of aboriginal Toltec art, vast and powerful stone heads. If you are in the area and can find out where it is exactly, I do recommend that you check it out. And if you go there, I’d love to hear about it, so leave me a comment, please! Which station is it in?

Oh, I guess I’ll finish with something a bit more original: Vancouver’s very own Skytrain. The Skytrain is really neat. It’s new, clean, silent and efficient. You never have to wait a long time for a train and these vehicles sure do move fast. I believe they cover a good number of Vancouver neighbourhoods and even go out to several suburban areas like Surrey. Unlike subways, this system moves around above the ground like an elevated train.

People in Vancouver are friendly, perhaps even a little bit naïve, compared to the tough dudes you’ll find in more established urban areas. So you might see that the people who ride with you on the Skytrain will probably act, in general, quite nice and polite.

Of course I can’t end without a little note about our very own Malaga subway. Well, it’s under construction! So not much to say about that. However we have high hopes for it – once it finally opens in about 50 years’ time.

The Meaning of a Friendship

How important is friendship to you? What values would you, or wouldn’t you, compromise on in relation to your friends? What would a friend have to do to you for you to decide to break up with them, and what would you forgive them for or accept in them?

They say that when a person is about to die, because maybe they have a terrible, mortal illness, they start to realize what is really important in life. And then they become aware of what is truly important to them personally and what isn’t. That most things that people get so riled up about aren’t all that important, transcendental or life-altering.

Most of us, I think, if we stopped to think about it at all, would probably agree that the people that we care about, our friends and loved ones, are the most important things in the world and without them the world would be an insipid place devoid of any meaning.

If you were about to die, what would you prefer, a chance to hug your friends and loved ones one more time, or would that dollar, or even those 100 dollars, that your best friend or your brother owes you, make you so inflamed that you’d prefer to leave without seeing that friend or brother again, because when you catch a glimpse of them you remember that they still owe you $100?

$100 which you will never get the chance to use anyways. Because when you leave this world you won’t be able to take it with you.

I have a very prickly relationship with a friend who makes me question all these things. She makes me become aware of the fact that, in truth, most people don’t think too much about friendship or their friends, or value them overly much.

I know a lot of people, and I do mean a LOT, who don’t want friends. Who prefer to lock themselves away in their homes, even sometimes in homes that are as large and luxurious as castles, and turn their backs to the world. They’re afraid of bringing their friends into their homes because maybe their friends might break that antique Ming vase, get into their computer and steal money from their bank account or make too much noise.

So they hide themselves away in their mansions with the Ming vase, the bank account jam-packed with savings that could be stolen and their silence, unbroken by the merriment of happy children playing or loved ones pounding away at whatever their loved ones most enjoy pounding away at.

Well, I acknowledge that we’re all free to live our lives the way we want and fill our hours with whatever we prefer. And I respect that some people are happier living behind locked doors and walls surrounded by all the objects that attest to how successful and prosperous they are materially and financially.

But really, if you throw your friend or brother out because they owe you $100 and can’t pay it back to you, you’re telling them loud and clear that these people and their relationship to you are worth less than $100. That clearly you care more about your $100 than about your friend, or brother. That money is more important to you than a person, a person that you supposedly care about and feel at least some affection for.

Of course it doesn’t have to be $100. Maybe you threw your friend or brother out because they forgot to buy you something that you asked them to. Not because they didn’t care about you, maybe just because, like me, they have a memory full of holes like a sieve and can’t remember anything if they don’t write it down in 50 agendas.

Now, I do psychic readings (you can find out more about these readings if you’re interested here), I love doing them and enjoy them very much and would never ever miss a session with anyone for anything but you can be sure, even so, if I don’t write it down in about 50 places I would never ever remember when I have a session with whom. I’m not like this on purpose, I don’t forget things in order to mess up other people’s lives on purpose. I just simply have a memory with more holes than a sieve, naturally.

So, returning to the subject of my friend, she is a person who constantly gets angry about things that I consider trivial. (I won’t say what things specifically because then if she reads this post then she will know who she is, and I don’t want that. I’m not in the game of trying to “teach her a lesson” through this post or anything like that. I’m not her teacher, her mother or her mentor and I have no interest in teaching her anything.)

Obviously, these are things that she clearly doesn’t consider trivial. To her they are very important. And I respect that. I try to do what she wants me to do when I’m with her, because so many things offend her, but of course people are full of surprises and unless you live with a person for several years you can never completely guess what sorts of things will get to them. Especially when we’re talking about a person who gets offended by so many things.

So I don’t go out of my way to deliberately try and do things that I know would bother or offend her. But of course even though I do psychic readings that doesn’t make me a mind-reader, hence I don’t know and couldn’t possibly guess absolutely every little thing that could bother or offend her. So sometimes I do do things that bother her. Not on purpose, of course.

But as far as she is concerned, it doesn’t matter if I did it on purpose or not. She always assumes that I did it on purpose, and calls me a liar if I tell her otherwise.

So, we are still friends. Mostly because I value her friendship, because outside of these (admittedly irritable, I won’t deny) characteristics she is still a great and fantastic person.

And I suppose deep down she must also value our friendship, because I imagine otherwise I guess that she wouldn’t still want to continue being friends with someone like me who is always all the time going out of their way to “deliberately” do things that “I know” she hates.

But it does make me wonder, what is more important to her, really, and to people like her? Her friends? Or that her friends be perfect, never forget anything, always adapt themselves to her and to what she wants, etc.?

Okay so now I can hear maybe a couple of readers timidly (or maybe loudly) clamouring out: And what about boundaries?? What about boundaries? We can lend $100 to a friend or brother once, but what about that cousin who is always sneaking around snitching $100 from our pockets every time they lose at gambling? Or that friend who never stops doing things that we hate, on purpose?

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t have boundaries. Boundaries are important. They’re an important aspect that help make us whole. (Well I’m not going to sermonize on about boundaries here, entire books have been written on that subject already.)

But if we lent money once to a friend and they haven’t paid it back to us yet, because they can’t, I don’t see that any boundaries have been violated. Our friend was in need, we helped them, now when they are able they will return the favour to us. If they can return the money to us, great. But maybe they are poor. Maybe instead of giving us money they could work for a week for us doing secretarial tasks, cleaning our house or taking care of our kids. Who says that trading and bartering no longer exist or are out of fashion?

Is that money worth more than your friendship? And what if it were your spouse, child or parent, someone you loved more than anyone? Would you still kick them out over $100? Do you love that $100 more than you love your friend or beloved one?

Remember, you can’t take it with you when you leave the earth.

But the memories of what you did when you lived will still be alive when you no longer are.

Do you want people who were close to you to remember that you were that friend who turned your back on them because they couldn’t return your money to you? Or because they did something silly – now I’m not saying something really “big” or important like cheating on you, I mean something really silly and trivial, like for example maybe they forgot to turn the light off in your home when they were there visiting and the two of you left the house together, thus resulting in an increase in $10 in your electricity bill for that month?

Business 101 by a Business Dummy Like Me

I’m not a business person. Not at all. Not in the least bit. I’ve always HATED business and anything business-related with a PASSION! At university when everyone else was ploughing off into BA’s and Commerce and the like I just drifted around and ogled at stars in the clear, cold, semi-Arctic night sky. So I never imagined that I could ever learn so much about the business world or managing my own business. Or want to learn it, for that matter.

I’ve been running my own fairly successful free-lance business for a year now. I never meant to work free-lance, even though it was something I’d always hankered to do, because I detested having bosses over me or fixed hours (which generally got longer and longer instead of shorter and shorter, as bosses coerced me ever more often to put in increasing amounts of overtime – if I wanted to keep my job!). I wanted to be able to take off for a few moments to go and have a coffee with a friend if I felt like it. Or an hour to run off to a gym (everyone’s gotta stay fit ya know!). But low-level, menial office jobs somehow just don’t happen to include these kinds of privileges in their working conditions. Shucks!

Having children made it even harder to get in to work. I couldn’t just keep taking time off to care for my son, who was born with an illness that often kept him confined to the house. But I was a single mom and if I didn’t go to work, we wouldn’t have anything to live on. A real catch-22.

And then finally, the crisis crashed down like a pall over our little city which had never been exactly a model of prosperity to begin with, seeing as it’s located in Spain’s poorest region, the “deep south”, whooo. A city with virtually no industry to speak of, little commerce, one that depends almost entirely on tourism, mostly foreign tourism, to survive. And with the crisis people just weren’t going on holidays anymore. I mean, holidays are expendable, it’s more important to fill up the pantry first!

So unemployment shot way up to 36% (as opposed to the national average of only about 15%) and I couldn’t get a job. The only alternative I could find – other than adopting a rich granddad or seducing and then marrying a tycoon, that is – was to strike out on my own.

So I started out peddling everything I knew how to do. I pasted posters offering myself for everything from dog-walking and babysitting to Reiki massages (carried out in the comfort of the client’s own home, no less) and palm-readings, not neglecting, of course, every North American-in-Spain’s ace up the sleeve: teaching English.

Countless North American and English students taking a semester of Spanish classes in Spain, or doing their full degree here, have survived thanks to English classes. It’s practically a tradition here. So of course, I offered to do it too.

After about a month or so I already had several English students – and not a single dog to walk, baby to look after or backs to massage (even though Reiki massages more than just backs, but then again, that’s a different topic altogether…….). Since teaching English also happens to be more lucrative than walking dogs or watching over babies anyways, I ran out and pulled down all my ads except the English-related ones.

So I had already learned a basic, fundamental lesson about running a business, and this without ever having stepped into a Business 101 class. And that was, that advertising was super, super important.

After a few months teaching English, someone asked me if I also knew French, since I’m from Montreal. Their son was studying French at school in addition to English, and if I could teach him French too it would save them all the bother of searching for a good, qualified francophone tutor, and it would mean more income for me. I said yes and added French lessons to my repertoire.

As the next logical step I decided to add to my services, lessons in everything that I knew enough about to teach. And thus I also learned a new lesson, one which business gurus just can’t emphasize enough and charge people a fortune to teach it to them: diversify. Don’t keep all your eggs in one basket. If you offer more services, and different kinds of services, you are much better prepared for “lean cow years”. If demand for one of your offerings drops you aren’t left out in the cold.

And I guess I’ve got 2 more gems hidden away here and which I’m currently working on: always do the best, be the best you can. If people are happy with what you do they will refer you, and come back for more. I would say about half of my students today are from referrals.

And innovate, improve, find out what other people don’t offer and offer it. Develop something creative and original. Fill in the holes and gaps left out in the marketplace.

So now I bump into people out on the street all the time, acquaintances, strangers, beggars (you can read the story about my debate with one of these acquaintances in the very next post), and they all say the same thing to me, “It’s impossible to be doing well today in Malaga, there are no jobs, no one has money…….. You’re just LUCKY!!”

But I always want to tell them, nay yell it to them, shout it out so everyone can hear: “Luck has nothing to do with it!!”

I don’t believe that I’m doing well and have many clients because I’m just lucky. First of all, I worked hard for it. While some of my acquaintances were out drinking it up in a bar and the beggars were sitting around with a little dish in front of grocery stores, I was pasting posters to walls all over the city. I spent hours doing that. My acquaintances spent hours getting rid of their unemployment money or their welfare money or their parents’ money in pubs and taverns, the beggars spent their time begging, and I used those hours to do a lot of exercise running around the city (when you’re unemployed you don’t take the bus!) and gluing ads up on walls. So if the next morning I had a new client and my acquaintances and the beggars didn’t, that wasn’t an accident.

And then, I also set out to be a vibrational match for what I wanted. We probably all hear a lot about that lately in New Age/spiritual development circles. And it’s really hard to explain. It’s not something to sit around in an ashram and understand in theory, it’s something you DO. So for me, doing it meant, well, just “doing it”. (There must be some reason why Nike athletes are so successful after all, right? Haha.)

Just going out and doing things that could attract clients to me. Looking over the kinds of English lessons I could teach, so when people called me up and asked me what I did I wouldn’t just go, “Huh? Well I dunno……” I networked of course. I designed my own little business cards on the computer and made photocopies of them (when you’re broke you don’t go to a printer). Then I cut them up at home with scissors. And I also advertised on the internet. I’d say half of my clients today come from the internet, and the others from the original ads I had put up on walls and their referrals.

I never wanted to learn anything about business, I never meant to learn anything about business. And I didn’t start working free-lance because I wanted to know anything about business. I lugged up a free-lance career because I needed it to survive. But now after a year I can sure appreciate everything that that free-lance job has taught me.

So Maybe I Need a Shrink?

The other day I had a debate with an acquaintance. This young man is really into protest marches to try and get the current government to resign. He blames them for the crisis and the high unemployment, and he thinks the government ought to give jobs to people. I told him, it’s not the government’s responsibility to give you a job, it’s YOUR responsibility to prepare yourself for a job and then go out and look for one!

He went on and on: but that wouldn’t make any difference, there wasn’t any point in people preparing themselves for a job if the government didn’t make jobs for them, people would never find jobs as long as there was still a crisis and it was the government’s responsibility to get rid of the crisis and etc. etc. I told him I was doing well and earning money, even though I didn’t have a job in the sense of working for someone else. I said if I had waited for the government to do something for me I’d still be sitting around twiddling my thumbs. He said, meh but you’re just lucky.

But that did get me thinking. For a while now I’d been pondering about things like, how come in spite of all the obvious and humungous improvements that I had experienced in my life thanks to receiving a healing session in the Soul Realignment modality (and which I’ll definitely be blogging about at a future date, I mean, clearly, I wouldn’t have gone to all the time and expense of studying something and offering sessions in it if I wasn’t absolutely convinced of its awesome effects, and its undeniable ability to move complete mountains in a person’s life! But more on that subject in another post…… someday……), there were areas where I still remained obstinately, immovably STUCK!

My professional/financial situation was undoubtedly what I had in mind as I carried out these ponderings. I refer to, how come, even though I now made a good income and earned enough for me and my kids to live well, nonetheless we were still suffering from scarcity and a lack of abundance? I was bringing in income from many sources now, I’d gone from Welfare Single Mum to Working Single Mum, we weren’t deprived anymore of things that we really needed but, I also wasn’t able to save anything. We don’t have a spendy lifestyle, I hardly ever buy unnecessary items like clothes or shoes unless I really have to, because for example everything we have is all worn and full of holes already! I don’t go out a lot, do the nightlife thing (but then again, after all, how many single mums do you know out there who do do the nightlife thing very much anyways?) or even go to the movies. And even so I’m not attracting so much that I can actually save, every cent that I’m earning has to go to something, if not food for the kids then bills, or rent.

So then I got to thinking about the people around me. People around you and their attitudes towards you and towards life can tell you a lot about your own because, as they say in popular wisdom as well as in Law of Attraction, well, like attracts like.

So I got to thinking about that young man that I quoted at the beginning of this article. And I also thought about one of my ex’s, who is always criticizing me for having too much stuff, like books and CD’s and things. (I asked him, but what’s so bad about books and music? They enrich your life, you … … (unquotable name that one might occasionally use to refer to ex’s there)!) But he thinks that books occupy too much space and don’t have any use. What’s the point in enriching your mind and your spirit, he wonders. You can’t eat off of a rich mind or a prosperous spirit, you need a fat bank account for that! And books won’t bring you a fat bank account, quoth he.

I also remembered that sensation of sheer panic whenever I observed my bank account beginning to grow. It’s a strange sensation, as if on the one hand I just knew that any moment now SOMETHING would happen to make it all disappear, someone would show up and take it all away from me. And on the other hand, it was like, who am I to have so much when other people are starving??

Well, that sensation is also known as guilt! So I realized that guilt was keeping money out of my life.

When people, like the young acquaintance I was talking about earlier, tell me that I didn’t do anything to bring in more money, that I was just lucky, what they really mean is that I simply don’t DESERVE the money that I’m getting. That they think that maybe I’m still not working hard enough, or I’m not a good enough person. Maybe, in their opinion, they ought to be earning more than me, even though they’re just sitting around on a sofa twiddling their thumbs (or more like standing around in a picket line twiddling a poster), just because supposedly they’re worth more than me, they’re better people than me, they’re superior, therefore they ought to be earning more money than me even though they’re not doing anything.

It’s illogical, I mean, that young man spends all his time griping and complaining to people about his unhappy lot in life, then goes out every night and drinks it up with his friends. He doesn’t work, just hangs around parliament buildings (or more like the Moncloa, here in Spain, as we don’t actually have a parliament building here). I mean, of course I’m earning more money than he is! I go out to work every day. When my clientele slacks down I go out and advertise more. I don’t do it because I’m greedy, I do it because my kids need to eat, and if I don’t pay the rent we won’t have a place to live (even if it’s just a tiny, cramped little 1-bedroom-with-a-walk-in-closet in da inna small city). But I still feel bad about that. I still feel greedy.

Must be something to do with my upbringing. Or maybe I need a shrink. Sigh!

Hot hot hot!

Today was just one of those sizzling hot, you-can-fry-an-egg-on-the-pavement days. At midmorning the thermometers, here in southern Spain, were already registering a simmering 47º C., that’s a whopping 117º F. for those of you Statewise or up in Britain.

In spite of that I like summer, in fact I looove summer! This heat is why I moved to southern Spain. So I’m certainly not complaining.

We have this phenomenon here which is called “terrá”, with a big long emphasis on the final “a”! “Terral” (or terrá as people pronounce it here) is when searing winds blow out from somewhere (I don’t really know from where but they sure feel like they breeze straight out from the Sahara and sheer a nor’wester directly across the Strait of Gibraltar) and raze us all to the ground (coughing and spitting up sand particles haha! Well almost, actually the sand doesn’t quite reach us here. It does get into the Canary Islands though).

So what can we do to combat this barbecue? Well, unfortunately here in da inna big city (well okay, da inna small city, more like, in my case) we don’t have sprinklers, swimming pools (sure do envy all those smart people who moved out to the Costa del Sol, everyone’s got their own neat, cool blue pool over there!) or fresh, green gardens. So what’s up? Beeeaaach!

Yep, as you can see that’s an urban beach, the nearest one to my home, as can be deduced from all those cranes on the not so distant industrial loading dock. You won’t find a lot of tourists on this beach, it’s far from the posh, elegant areas in the eastern end of the city where local and foreign celebs like Penélope Cruz or Antonio Banderas are more wont to hang out.

Nope, this is just my lazy and humble neck of the woods. Families with little kids building sand castles, teenagers hanging out with a cold beer in their hands, the occasional loner reading a book whilst trying to coax on an even suntan (and they usually succeed, I mean people get really dark, coppertone baby dark, in the super powered sun around here!).

And the water’s just as cool and refreshing in these whereabouts as it could be in the trendier Malagueta or El Palo.

Although of course, there’s nothing to stop me from just hopping onto a bus and breezing it out to the El Palo or Malagueta neighbourhoods whenever I wanted to. Beaches are free for all!