¿son un dork ou non?

Estou procurando motivos polos que se me podería considerar dork para un concurso curioso dun blog moi interesante (recoméndovolo encarecidamente, lectores ficticios) e realmente non me lembro, pero sei que os hai.
Vou divagar un pouco, e por primeira (e posiblemente última) vez nesta bitácora vou escribir nalgo semellante ó inglés. Outro día (non) escribo sobre a miña primeira visita a Lisboa en 20 anos, na que non tiven tempo de visitar a tumba de Henry Fielding. Grrr.
Imos aló:

After much thinking i have concluded that i haven't got a chance to be considered the greatest dork in this Dorkfest. Quite the contrary... i'm not a dork! I admit there are some dork-like tendencies in me, but i am not a dork.

At an early age i noticed that i had many compulsive tendencies, and started fighting against them. So i stopped following strange patterns when walking (you know: never step on two consecutive tiles, never ever on a line dividing those tiles, etc.). Slowly i managed to stop collecting stamps but have still to stop keeping every single bus/train/metro/plan ticket.
I have also successfully stopped updating my book database (that was easy--i coudn't really understand Access and why it was supposed to be so useful) but will never delete that file. Also, i still write my name and the place and date of purchase on every book, except second-hand books, on which i never ever write. But that is really just compulsive behaviour, not real dork(i)ness.

I read with a pencil at hand to underline words and write comments (except on second-hand books, as already explained). In non-fiction books i address the author, in translations (which i avoid reading, for my own health) i adress the translator, pointing out better solutions, especially when one can see what the original text said because the translator simply copied every single word. (Enough about that.) So maybe i'm a nerd. Or more precisely i used to be a nerd that has slowly learnt to become more "normal". Evidence: i was first in my class in primary school (i even was in a "children city council" or whatever you call it). Then i started caring less and less, i still felt i must always get the best possible marks at school--i used to think that was the least i could do since my parents were supporting me. I must have been a strange child. Therefore i probably am/was a nerd. But not a dork.

More strange behaviours of mine... Despite my friends' pressure i have only read 2 1/2 Harry Potter books. First i read number 3, then number 2 and then i started listening to book number 5, but stopped it when i decided to devote sometime to finally watch Lost in it's original order. I have watched all 4 seasons but never in order. So, before i started taking those annoying tests from dharmawantsyou it seemed the right time to watch the series properly. I still think it was more amusing when i was never sure whether something was a new revelation or just that i hadn't seen the particular episode where that was already explained. Recently i discovered The Prisoner, which seems to be the perfect show for me, because there are so many "official" episode orders that you must (at least, i must) find your personal one for myself. More about TV: as a child i loved Doctor Who and Sapphire and Steel (must see that one again, i don't remember a thing about it). So maybe i'm weird, but not really a dork.

Enough about TV, let's go back to books. I am not a great reader (i never seem to find time), but i buy every single book that i know i want to read someday. I also buy dictionaries; some not exactly for work. My treasures are a Gaelga-English dictionary and the Vocabulário de Termos Técnicos in Portuguese, French and English, without date of printing but surely before 1960, therefore extremely unuseful, especially since french and portuguese are not among my working languages.
The first book-like object i remember convincing my parents to buy for me was Hägar the Horrible: The Brutish Are Coming. I was probably 8 years old, and i promised i was going to learn more English in order to read it. And i read it.
The first book proper that i read on my own, without a teacher asking me to do so, was Crónicas Marcianas.
In high school i read stuff like Crime and Punishment, and only listened to classical music.
So let's move to music. I finally started discovering good pop music at 18. Before that i just didn't like what i heard on the radio, and didn't know there was so much more. I have a strange relationship with music because it means a lot to me, but i'm completely unable to create music. My to-read list includes a treaty on counterpoint that i bought some 6 years ago. So maybe i'm a dilettante. But not a dork.

Conclusion: as my nature dictates i don't really commit to anything, that's why i'm not a dork. I simply never tryied to be cool, otherwise i would be a very cool person.
[Note: I'm pretty sure i forgot something... whatever, i'm posting this, version #7]

[Ah: i always wear different socks, i mean, of course i wouldn't try to wear the same sock on both feet, that would make me look clumsy(ier), i wear non-matching socks. That started when i realized that i lost too much of my precious time sorting socks. Now i just cannot stand wearing the same colour on both feet. But that isn't dork, is it? I know it's just a way of pretending to be cool, but still i wouldn't consider it dorky.
Oh, yesss: when i rent a DVD i always watch the film at least twice (sometimes even if i don't particularly loved the film). First i watch it in the original and then in the original with the commentary. And if it is in a language i speak, i watch it once without subtitles and then once with subtitles, just in case i missed something. Sometimes i even watch it once more (most times just bits, not the entire thing) dubbed in Spanish, just to listen to the voices and check the quality.

Sorry i'm quitting now, i won't even try to rewrite these two new paragraphs into what would be version #8]

posreflexión

Se cadra algún de vós, meus lectores ficticios, vos teredes preguntado onde me tiña metido. Pois estou de «pulsos convalecentes», así que procuro teclear o mínimo imprescindible. (Sorry polo estilo telegramático.)
Hoxe saio do meu silencio porque lin unha noticia que me chamou a atención: Un documento del FBI prueba que Estados Unidos buscó a Hitler en España.
Isto significa que inda segue polo mundo adiante a teoría de que fuxiu pra Latinoamérica. O primeiro que me veu á cabeza foi unha escena de Enredo (Soap, Dos locas familias, chámalle x) en que aparecía Hitler de camareta en Bolivia. (Sorry, non o encontro no yutiub.)
E xa que estou escribindo, aproveito pra compartir esta outra noticia, que tamén ten intríngulis:
Letizia: «¡Yo soy una princesa!»
Pagaría por ter visto a cara que puxo, jajaja.
--
Cambiando de tema... non me lembro canto tempo levaba sen ir ó facebook e encontreime con que anduveron cambiando cousas... (eso dicía a mensaxe de benvida) pero inda non vin nada diferente... ¡¡AAAhh!! vale, teño que premer na barra de enriba. Vamos ver qué fixeron estes agora...
Polo visto vai mais lento e está empeñado en que me descargue unha actualización do flax. Van aviados.

revolvendo

debe ser pra compensar polos anos de descoñecimento (ou desidia) que hoxe estou oíndo de forma compulsivo-repetitiva esta marabillosa canción:

¡quen dera poder seguir durmindo! pero xa vexetei a semana pasada... así que toca currelar («but i don't mind, i think their crazy», simplemente sublime)

día de luto

Hoxe entereime dunha noticia moi desagradable: morreu Rauschenberg cando apenas o estaba descubrindo (para variar, a cultura é máis rápida ca min).
É curioso o vínculo que establecemos cos temas dos que traducimos. Por unha casualidade do mercado unha colega e mais eu traballamos cun texto sobre este artista e desde entón tropezámonos continuamente con información sobre el. Traducir unha biografía é extraño. E cando les noticias sobre esas persoas sintes un vínculo, como se realmente as coñeceses. Por iso, hoxe é día de luto.

beginning of a great adventure

Chegou o momento da verdade. Dentro de dous meses vou estar completamente on my own. Acabouse imaxinar un futuro perfecto, vou ter que saír da comodidade e loitar cada día para conseguir un presente imperfecto pero mellor (e poder pagar as contas, jajaja). Sen ningún tipo de seguridade. No safe net. Sei que é un risco que teño que correr... mais teño medo. Moito medo.
Pero o meu medo non importa. Isto era inevitable.
E despois de organizar a miña vida profesional non estaría mal aprender a relacionarme con outros seres humanos dunha forma un pouco máis normal.
Tempo ó tempo, non se pode conseguir todo dunha vez...

bloody weekend

está visto que non se poden facer planes... mira prá hora que é, e eu que quería deitarme cedo! pero, en fin, tamén estiven ocupada e así non pensei.
e para desconectar qué mellor que botarlle un ollo ó xornal.
aquí tendes unha perla do one and only Forges:


(con la venia del País, jeje. se teñen algo en contra que avisen que eu retiro a viñeta.)