The end has no end

Hommage aux Strokes en guise de titre..

Aujourd'hui est mon avant-dernier jour de travail pour 2007, et vu que je ne blogge qu'au bureau, j'annonce donc que ce post est le dernier de cette année. Alors cette année, comment fut-elle? Ma foi, je peux me dire que j'ai du bol dans la vie:

- Une année pleine de .. travail. Et oui, rien qu'en 2007 j'ai occupé 3 différents postes dans 3 entreprises différentes, passant du privé au public, de la chaine d'hôtel de luxe au secteur du volontariat, calculant les sous les sous les sous.. A priori l'aspect "sous" de ma « carrière » n'est pas prêt de finir, mais en même temps c'est confortable les chiffres, ca doit tomber juste et c'est tout ce qu'on leur demande.

- Une année pleine.. d'alcool. Je dois dire que l'Irlande n'a pas amélioré mon penchant pour la chose distillée. Tout est prétexte à la fête, à la sortie, à la célébration, à la dégustation, au remontage de moral, au remède contre le rhume et j'en passe. Bref, vous l'aurez compris amis lecteurs, ma vie sans alcool est comme l'Irlande sans pluie, improbable.

- Une année pleine de.. rencontres. Sans doute lié aux deux faits précédents, mes amis ici étant bien souvent des collègues de travail avec qui j'ai picolé. Mes compagnons de fortune et d'infortune se distinguent bien souvent par leur humour décalé, leur sens de la fête dans les pubs surpeuplés de notre capitale, leur sens de la conversation politique. Bref, ami lecteur, ami tout court, tu te reconnais dans ce portrait, bah oui on choisit ses amis, et ils se ressemblent bien souvent

- Une année pleine de... découvertes. Et ce spécialement sur moi-même. Moi qui me considérais névrosée, malheureuse de nature, venant d'une famille équilibrée je me découvre calme, sereine, prompte a m'enflammer de joie et avec une famille dysfonctionnelle (ca se dit?). La révélation? La psychanalyse! Et oui ami lecteur ca torture la masse grise, ca fait grincer les dents, remuer des choses ô combien scandaleuses mais! ca pose les bonnes questions, remet les pendules à l'heure et donne de la fierté à celui qui la fait car c'est courageux (je ne me lance pas de fleurs, mais avouez vous-memes, amis qui me lisez que ca fait des années que vous y pensez et que ca vous fait chier et peur)

- Une année pleine.. d'engagements. Grâce à mon nouveau statut de fonctionnaire-privilégié-qui-est-jamais-contente-alors-qu'ils-ont-tous-les-avantages (oui ca marche aussi ici, pas besoin d'etre gouverné par Sarko), je me suis dégagé du temps libre! Et celui-ci est employé à tout un tas de choses : je suis prof dans un institut d'alphabétisation, je traduis des textes de l'anglais au français pour les parents étrangers des écoles de mon quartier, je suis membre active de Choice Ireland et participe à des manifs, réunions et je pense m'engager encore plus l'année prochaine. Je ne cite pas les activités culturelles, sociales, et le temps passé avec mon amoureux. Ca fait que mes semaines sont chargées mais riches et satisfaisantes.

- Une année pleine.. d'amour. Ah bah je suis tres privilégiée la-dessus, le petit prince a emmenagé dans mon appart en mai, et malgré mes cauchemars de femme libérée ca va pas le faire-il va empiéter sur mes plates-bandes-laisser trainer ses chaussettes sales et bien ca marche tout simplement bien, et on s'habitue aux enchantements de la vie domestique en en plaisantant...

Pour l’année prochaine le souhait est de donc de continuer à aimer, découvrir, partager, festoyer, aider et rigoler. C’est bien parti.

Je m’en vais pour mon expédition de plusieurs semaines dans des contrées zzzinconnues ! Allez hop !

Abortion in Ireland

The title is a pure product of my imagination since it is forbidden to have an abortion in this country. Totally forbidden you'll ask? Well, here are the facts (I advise feminists to take a cigarette or a drink as this is extremely infuriating):

Like in a lot of countries at this time, laws were passed in Ireland in 1861 to outlaw the "procurement of a miscarriage", whether one oneself or somebody else. Similar laws were passed in France in the 1920's. All abortions are then liable to very severe sanctions (death penalty or life imprisonment).

In 1983 the Irish constitution was modified and included the 8th amendment, recognizing the "right to life of the unborn". This is the core of the legal issue in Ireland, as the legalisation of abortion will have to be done through another change in the Constitution.

Between 1986 and 1991 a legal battle opposed the SPUC (Society for the Protection of Unborn Children) to counselling agencies and students' unions on the information disclosure. The latter were actually providing information on abortion, i.e. where and how to get it when women were confronted with an unwanted pregnancy. The SPUC won the case: it is since then forbidden by law to provide direct information on abortion if it is not requested. If the person wants to get this information it will have to be done during a 1 2 1 session, through generally a counselling agency (I will come back to that as there are loopholes in this law which don't prevent charlatans from giving false medical info). This is as well an extremely sensitive issue if you are a member of a feminist group wanting to advice women on abortion, as it is prosecutable to give this information over the phone, to distribute leaflets if not requested by the person in front of you and so on.

In 1992 the "X case" was brought into court. In brief the Irish authorities wanted to prevent a 14 year-old girl who had been raped from going to the UK to have an abortion. This was overturned by the Supreme Court which recognised that the high risk of suicide of this young girl was a sufficient reason for her to travel. However, when no such risk existed it was possible for the Irish authorities to prevent the women from travelling as it was for them contradictory with the 8th amendment.

At the end of the 1990's a series of cases (generally under aged girls pregnant as a result of a rape such as the "C case") reiterated the ban on abortion, and put the X case legislation at stake. It basically put at stake the right to travel even in case of suicide risks. The public opinion being supportive of the girl the risk of suicide is still a "sufficient" reason for the Irish authorities to allow women to travel abroad.

In 2001 the government held a referendum to try to reverse the 1992 X case, which enables women to travel if they have suicidal tendencies. The referendum's results were appalling: 49.58% voted yes (to restrict this right to travel) while 50.42% voted no.

In 2007 we are still living in a state where 17 Irish women travel to Great Britain each day to have an abortion, and this doesn't include the Irish women not giving Irish addresses and the ones travelling to other countries. We live in a country where it is forbidden to give out information on abortion but where the counselling agencies are not regulated if they don't fall under a certain category, which means they can advertise as counselling agencies and give false medical information to women in distress (I will write about it another time, meanwhile go to http://www.indymedia.ie/article/81414), a country where a young woman with a non viable foetus had to go to Court to be able to travel and abort and it is impossible to know the extent of distress, desperation and frustration of all the women not authorised to have a choice in their own country.

A list of websites if you want to know more:

http://choiceireland.blogspot.com/ (the pro choice group I belong to)
http://www.ifpa.ie/

http://www.safeandlegalinireland.ie/

Mauvais poil

Je suis de mauvaise humeur, et ce pour plusieurs raisons

- Rachida Dati: je l'ai ecoutee ce matin sur France Inter, elle propose que les personnes, en particulier les delinquants sexuels, restent en detention (elle a appele ca des "centres de soins fermes") meme apres avoir purge leur peine. En gros, on ne les enferme pas pour ce qu'ils ont fait mais pour ce qu'ils pourraient faire. Ca me revolte.

- Le vent a 150km/h en pleine face: c'est la tempete ici depuis une dizaine de jours, et vu que c'est le pays de la loi de Murphy (la tartine tombe toujours du cote de la confiture's theory), je me recois les rafales de face a velo, forcement il pleut aussi et ca donne vraiment pas envie de sourire en arrivant au boulot

- Noel approche: je sens que je vais avoir envie d'ecraser la tete de la cinquantieme personne qui va me souhaiter "de tres bonnes fetes, tu vas voir ta famille?" dans la meme journee

- J'ai une peau d'une ado de 15 ans. Pas couverte de pustules nan, mais legerement rugueuse. Ca doit etre la picole, vu ce que je bois en ce moment, ca m'etonnerait que mes pores ne soient pas bouches. Mais ca me fout de mauvais poil alors je vais picoler pour oublier ca, ou cela va t-il s'arreter?

-Le gouvernement irlandais: le premier ministre (Taoiseach) s'est augmente de €38000/an et les ministres de €25000, devenant les personnes politiques les mieux payees du monde, oui oui j'habite toujours en Irlande, ce pays de 4 millions d'habitants avec l'importance dans les relations internationales qu'il a.

- La circulation a Dublin (photo): Ras le bol d'avoir a me squeezer entre un bus et un van, de me faire couper la route par un putain de taxi, de me faire insulter par des abrutis parce que je veux passer d'une lane a l'autre. Debarrassez-nous des bagnoles en ville bande de nases!

- Le boulot: la j'avoue que ces jours-ci les discours de "express your creativity" du directeur des ressources humaines m'a fait sauter au plafond. He Ducon c'estde la comptabilite que je fais, je fais quoi avec ta creativite a la con???

Envoyez-moi des bisous, du chocolat et conseillez-moi des bons films svouple

Teaching sex?

You're going to say I just have one reference newspapers and one subject of conversation, but this article of today's Guardian is presenting a highly debated subject: sex education in schools (see www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/story/0,,2221466,00.html)

First question: should schools deliver sex education? Isn't it parents' role to actually do it? Well, considering the amount of dialogue in the average family (I don't know if it is the same in the UK, but I know that the word "talking" in Irish families doesn't generally exist), that would lead to a generation of ignorant young people, risking their lives just for the sake of not being told the right thing about this body that they are eager to use in other things than PE (referring to my own experience there). So, yes, maybe school is a good idea

Secondly: Is teenage sex a moral thing? Well, I don't have such a high opinion of this notion of morality applied to sex, the only rule in this matter being mutual consent. It is actually shown that the more informed young people are about sex, the later they have their first sexual experience (I was well informed myself I'm tellin' ya). So sex isn't something compulsive as such if you know what it is all about. If you don't want your kids to discover sex a nasty and precocious way, teach them!

Third question: What should we teach? I do remember the lessons at schools being about geography and mechanic, but not at all about this thing that I do... well... regularly (all things going well). My point is that even though it was interesting to see how those things work, it is just unable to explain the complexity of human feelings and all the things implied by sex.

(First digression: these mechanic / geography lessons never talked about the clitoris. This is just appalling: how do you teach young women to enjoy their own body if you don't even tell them that they have the one and only human organ that is placed there ONLY for pleasure?? And that it is so easy and reachable that they wouldn't have to wait for Prince Charming to get to a high level of satisfaction. So people if you want to teach geography properly please include this small organ)

I am coming back to my third point. It is so easy to reach any kind of porn / degrading / false / not realistic image of sexuality (you just have, in your daily life, to surf on the Internet, read magazines, watch TV, watch films where people shagging always have flat bellies and have their orgasm after 5Min of vigorous sport and AT THE SAME TIME ahahaha. Isn't it the role of a developed country, quite secular, that wants to have enlightened citizens, to show the future citizens that sex means pleasure, respect, satisfaction but also STDs, unwanted pregnancies, frustration etc? If you teach maths in school and tell the pupils that 1 + 1 = 3 all the people will tell you that it is a scandal. All adults know exactly what is implied with sex, what is the big deal with teaching it the way it is? I blame the Church..

... And George W.Bush! I was about to forget this abstention programme his administration has been financing for several years now. It would be quite funny if it was not tragic at the same time. The young lads and girls who committed themselves into this bullshit (probably encouraged by their forward thinking parents) are now not only "unvirginised" (these young people have their first sexual experience as the exact same age as the rest of the population) but also ashamed of what they've done.. Frank success

Only breast

A new movement appeared in Sweden, the "Bara Bröst" movement, that you can translate by "Merely Breasts". It all came from 2 women deciding to drop the top of their swimsuits in a public swimming pool. They were thrown away, because it is indecent, sexual etc etc. Frankly, I support those girls so much.

What they say is true (see website http://barabrost.blogg.se/ there is an English section). Breasts are considered indecent and highly sexualised just because men decided it was this way! It makes me think to this marvelous film "Persepolis" I saw, where Marji is actually questioning the veil. Aren't men civilized enough not to be sexually aroused by some hair?? And by breasts? Aren't we aroused when they can walk and go on the beach and even in supermarkets (Southern France specialty, nice to go and shop for a steak!) with a bare chest? And what about the advertisement then? It is not acceptable for a woman to swim bare chest but it is if a half naked one does show a lot of her to sell yogurts?? What is the fucking logic of all that except another way of controlling women's body by declaring this part or this part is OK if you are an object (i.e. advertisement, prostitution), but not if you are an "honorable" woman. In Sweden the body is considered as natural, being naked is not shameful or to be hidden, it just is a part of yourself that you have to protect and that should be considered as yours and only yours. It is a very sane approach to the body, desexualised if you don't want it to be.

So I say, go sisters! Drop the top!

Winter in the middle of two oceans

The cold and damp, damp weather has come in here. We will not see any kind of bright days until March or April, if we're lucky. It is quite strange, I do remember loving winter in Scandinavia, the 6 months of snow and darkness had not been that hard to bear. It is my fourth winter in here, I have to say I am not a fan. Although the autumn can be beautiful and warm and colourful (the picture was taken in October), winter is grey, grey, grey. Sad like Hell, the skies are falling onto your shoulders, everything seems heavier and difficult.


Luckily I had the good idea to buy an extremely hip accessory: a hot water bottle! It is coooooooool! I have to precise that central heating is still a luxury in a very high number of apartments in Dublin, the only thing lots of people have are those horrible electric radiators.. It costs your ass, it is ineffective and environmentally bad bad bad.. I therefore bought this thingy to warm me and my feet when I am watching a film or reading and put it a bit before going to bed under the blankets. It is marvellous! I do recommend it to everyone!

Happy Monday!

Feminism etc.

I read today that feminist women were better in bed and happier than the average (it is NOT propaganda, it is a study revealed by the extremely serious Guardian, see link http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/story/0,,2211202,00.html)

What I like in this article is the rehabilitation of a notion that is so taboo (she employs herself the "f word", and this is a very intelligent way of describing feminism as it is seen by the majority.. Just think about the way some women express themselves "I am not a feminist, but I think we should have equal pay" as racist people say "I am not a racist, but I think black people are lazy"): feminism is mostly about love, about respect and equality, not at all about war & opposition between the genders. It is a possibility for all human beings (YES people, men are not the enemy, patriarchy is) to get out from the roles and stereotypes that prevent us from being happy and mostly being ourselves. I always take this example of me not being happy because I should behave the way people expect from a girl (shaving your armpits, not swearing in public, you are obviously not complete if not married or at least with the providential man).. What about men then? Why shouldn't they be crying? Why do they have to be strong? My point is that if someone feels like doing something that is not acceptable gender wise then it is a struggle to be yourself and not being considered as a pariah or a weirdo. And this is what feminism is about. To my mind, the only reason why there was no masculinism revolt yet is just because this half of the population has power. Meanwhile they can go on getting killed in wars, being imprisoned and violent. And as said previously in my mind this is not inherent to men, it is patriarchy that creates it. Feminism is liberation. For all.

Suis-je ici depuis trop longtemps?

Aujourd'hui je fais du plagiat, c'est decide.. Marre de creer des textes originaux, je pique! Alors j'ai trouve un truc tres rigolo sur le blog d'une copine, qui vit a Dublin aussi et qui ecrit ca (les sections en bleu sont mes rajouts a cette sympathique liste) L'adresse du blog d'Anne-Laure (j'adore la premiere partie de son prenom!!) si vous avez envie d'authenticite:

http://www.alblog.fr/index.php?Irish-stew

"Tu sais que tu vis en Irlande depuis plus de 6 mois quand :

- Tu considères qu’il a fait plutôt beau un jour où le soleil est apparu trois fois dix minutes et où il n’y a eu que quelques averses.

- Tu ne te lèves plus cinq fois dans la nuit après avoir bu trois pints de bière.

- Tu n’as même plus envie de poursuivre puis de battre à mort le propriétaire de l’énorme 4x4 Mercedes qui vient de t’arroser de la tête aux pieds en passant à 100 km/h dans l’énorme marre d’eau qui s’est formée juste devant le passage piéton.

- Tu trouves normal qu’aucun mec ne vienne jamais t’adresser la parole à moins qu’il ait 4 grammes dans le sang, ce qui arrive en général aux alentours de 2 heures du mat’. Là, si tu n’es pas toi aussi dans le même état, tu évacues le bar de toute urgence avant de devenir la proie d’une meute soudainement incontrôlable.

- Tu as compris que quand quelqu’un te dit au téléphone « Mais oui, pas de problème, je m’en occupe et je vous rappelle aussi vite que possible », il veut en fait dire « Va mourir connasse, j’en ai rien à foutre de ta gueule » et tu sais que tu n’entendras plus jamais parler de lui à moins de le harceler d’appels, d’emails et de fax.

- Tu n'as plus aucune réaction quand soudainement, alors que tu marches tranquillement dans la rue, tu te retrouves sous une tempête de pluie ou au milieu d'une mini tornade.

- Ça ne te choque pas de payer 2,85€ pour un café dégeulassissime. Au contraire t'es heureuse et même que tu le bois en marchant dans la rue.

-Aujourd’hui, t’as mis tes tongs et un top dos nus par ce que, waou, il fait 19°C, quelle chaleur !!!

- Tu n’as même pas pensé à envoyer une lettre de réclamation à la direction des transports en communs locaux pour leur demander d’arrêter d’envoyer systématiquement des contrôleurs dans le tramway aux heures de pointe, spécialement des contrôleurs obèses, s’il ne veulent pas avoir ta mort par étouffement sur la conscience et le procès qui va avec.

- Au restaurant, tu es heureuse de retrouver systématiquement, voire exclusivement, tes deux plats favoris : Burger ou Fish & Chips. Et si on ne t’apporte pas, dans les 5 minutes qui suivent, une assiette géante remplie à rabord de tonnes de trucs aussi gras les uns que les autres, tu cries à l’escroquerie puis à la famine !! "

- Tu ne regardes plus les horaires de bus et rigole devant les gens qui le font car tu sais tres bien que le chauffeur de ton bus est en train de prendre une pint dans le pub a cote du depot

- Tu pratiques l'automedication a fond parce que tu sais que le medecin va te prescrire la meme chose que ce truc qui sort de ton armoire a pharmacie et que ca te coutera 55€ la consultation

- Quand un ami irlandais te dit "je passe chez toi tel jour" tu restes avachie sur ton canape en chaussettes et culotte parce que tu sais qu'il ne viendra jamais

- Tu trouves bon un vin californien avec un bouchon devisseur

- Tu ne fais meme plus attention a l'absence de melangeur et passe sans broncher tes mains d'un robinet a l'autre quand tu veux les laver

- Tu ne fais plus attention aux grosses anglaises qui fetent leur enterrement de vie de jeune fille avec des pistolets en forme de bites et des hauts tellement serres qu'ils les font ressembler a des paupiettes (oui vous savez avec les ficelles qui entourent la chair..)

J'aimerais lire les commentaires des etrangers en France, genre "tu sais que tu es a Paris depuis plus de 6 mois quand tu envoies la porte du metro a la gueule de la personne derriere toi"

Enfin je me suis bien amusee, förlåt Jenny!

Famille je vous haime

Some of you are telling me it is wrong to write in English because they don't understand it, some others blame French for being too complicated and blablabla, och du Jenny klagar du ocksa nu! Hmmm.... dunno what the hell I have to do now...

Last time I was about to write I wanted to say some words about the family stuff. The Family with a capital F for a lot of people, the pillar of the society for conservative people, the place where everything is love and care and where you enable the child to get a proper education and teach him how to be a responsible adult.

I never had anything to complain about in my family I have to say... My parents are great people, dedicated to us, they always showed their affection, never prevented us from doing anything we wanted as long as it was not dangerous for us. But what am I am learning with my shrink then? Since I had such a beautiful childhood and have such nice parents and siblings, what is this psychoanalysis about? Isn't psychoanalysis done for people who have been abused, abandoned, not taken care enough?

Well, no... I mean yes, but reality is not that simple. My parents had the best intentions in the world and despite this they created a whole list of neurosis, dysfunctionings, they transmitted their own fears to us, their own (not so happy) childhood and all the list of bad stuff they had gone through. My main issue is my fear of being abandoned. When I have people I love around me, when they leave it is as if they were leaving me on purpose, that I did something wrong. I feel as if a weight was put on my chest, on my tummy, I can barely breathe and I cannot sleep unless I do take some drug. I never was abandoned in my life, always got support, love etc.. I discovered that I had transferred my parents' experiences (too complicated to be detailed here), that those things I had developed were nothing to do with me but with them. The guy I still see every week told me he was treating grand grand children of survivors of the Shoah, they are traumatised by something that did not happen to them, but to people generations before them. This transmission is extraordinary, and it does question quite a lot this saintity of the Family and its exceptional and inviolable status. And I am just talking about the kind of well functioning family, the one where everything's supposed to be well. I don't count abuses, rapes, incests, abuses of power and authority, intolerance and other charming things happening behind closed doors..

Hence the question. Who am I, what right do I have to risk this transmission from me to my own creations? Is my desire to be immortal so strong that I can question somebody else's sanity, knowing that whatever I do I will do it wrong? That the only possible effect of my education is to create a passive tax payer spending a lot of money to go to counselling? I don't feel good thinking about it at all, and although my life's wonderful and fulfilling I am still fighting against my old demons.

I'm gonna have a drink now.

Bloody IT

Well, you're going to tell me I'm lying but it's true, my bloody computer froze in the middle of a beautiful text, I lost everything. Pisses me off so you'll just have a picture of Ha'Penny Bridge in the centre of Dublin, I'll make comments another day. Kisses!

Sick and grumpy

I've decided to rant today.. I have my reasons! I have been away from my desk the past two days because a bloody kidney infection prevented me from getting up. It hurts! I am better now and as I said I am back at work.. 50 emails to read, 50 voicemails to listen to, people at your desk the whole bloody day, leave me alooooooone! I want my bed, or better lying on this beach there. It is a beach on Isla Mujeres, an island just a few kilometres away from Cancun, the horrible / vulgar / colonised / bad taste party/ fuck / cocaine spot. Brrrr, just thinking about this place gives me the creeps... This island is very nice though, we rented bicycles my copine Elo and myself and the coast was empty, no bloody tourist annoying you, just enjoying a bit of the sea and palm trees..

I was ranting wasn't I? I am angry at this country's health system (which is a great word for such a shitty stuff). I went to a doctor 2 days ago, the consultation fee is €55 (who the hell can pay that???), the antibiotics are three times more expensive than at home... I spent €80 for 15 minutes at the doctors and a week of medication. Not that I can't afford it myself, this is not the issue, but I don't like the principle at all. I remember accompanying a friend of mine to a (public) hospital two years ago. She went there by 8 o'clock. When I came back from work (at around 7PM), she was still in the waiting room, they had taken 3 or 4 samples of different body fluids, no info, no follow-up, no results. After I threatened the whole lot of doctors, nurses etc she finally got a bed, around 10PM.. She went out the next morning, with the advice that if the troubles were coming back (her tummy was so painful she couldn't even sit...) then she would have to be admitted again... I have thousands of stories on the health system in this country, diagnoses that never are revealed to the patient, results of cancer tests that are false and that delay treatments and so on.. Just to make you aware why it makes me that angry is that Ireland is now the 2nd richest country in Europe after Luxemburg, the 6th richest country in the WORLD (GDP per capita). But the services are still the ones of a poor country.. but only for poor or not that wealthy people. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Seriously Ireland is the perfect country to live in if you are two or more of the following: young, healthy, rich, white. If you are old, with a chronic disease, a non well paid job and that you belong to the quarter of people having difficulties with literacy well good luck.

Bonjour les amis! J'ai fait ma merde, je le sais... N'ai meme pas pense a editer ce petit blog qui pourtant me fait du bien.. Alors les news, les news... Encore change de travail! Je suis maintenant dans un service public. je distribue des sous aux gens qui aident d'autres gens. C'est une administration, c'est long, fastidieux mais c'est un soulagement que de faire quelque chose d'utile. Et puis les conditions de travail sont bonnes, c'est toujours tres pres de chez moi je suis contente!

En photo mon velo.. Mon velo est mon meilleur ami, mon partenaire, plus fidele que Lassie et sans faire de caca.. Il m'emmene partout et j'essaie de le choyer, meme si sur les routes TRES defoncees de Dublin ca n'est pas evident. Et puis il faut lutter contre les bus a deux etages (en photo egalement), les voitures, les vans, eviter les pietons (qui traversent n'importe comment), affronter le temps dublinois.. Les cyclistes ont du courage ici, c'est meme limite suicidaire.. Chuis po tres inspiree pour le moment, je vous dis seulement encore merci pour la grosse fete, ce fut fantastique, mon foie se souvient encore du punch. A bientot!

Until the end of the world..

J'ai appris ce matin que la Russie réclamait les terres arctiques, et plus précisément les fonds sous-marins dudit continent. Motif: "grâce" au réchauffement climatique, les glaces fondent, les fonds sont plus accessibles et qu'il y a t-il dans ces fonds sous-marins, question a 2 balles: du pétrole bien sur, et du gaz aussi! C'est désespérant, il n'y a donc rien en l'homme qui permette de penser que les choses ne s'améliorent un jour... Ces histoires de jours meilleurs, de ne pas répéter l'histoire, d'expérience qui permet d'éviter les erreurs et de progresser c'est de la douce merde, de la superstition. Les grandes puissances mondiales (même si j'ai des doutes sur le statut de la Russie) veulent plus de pouvoir, de fric, d'influence et basta. Rien n'est appris, rien ne s'apprendra jamais.. les salauds sont les salauds, les plus jamais ca sont des illusions, et nous nous confortons dans nos petites lâchetés du "que veux-tu faire?" et bientôt les bébés phoques, déjà chasses a coup de harpon, n'auront plus d'autre choix que d'aller chez Mc Do pour bouffer..

Même chose avec la Lybie.. une spécialité bien française que de se faire de la thune sur des libérations d'otages, plus une jolie publicité politique (ca s'était déjà vu...). Que c'est beau cette abnégation de la classe politique et de l'Union européenne, oui, tout faire pour libérer les otages (d'Etat) parce que la défense des droits de l'homme est ce qu'il nous anime. Mon cul c'est du poulet de batterie nourri au mais OGM.. Ces pauvres bulgares (et le médecin qui nous est toujours présente comme "d'origine palestinienne", je sais pas ce que ca veut dire mais c'est comme lorsque des émeutes éclatent et on nous parle des populations "d'origine immigrée".. et toi Ducon, t'es pas d'origine immigrée?? Si t'habites Paris et que t'es né a Boulogne sur Mer, t'appelles ca comment? Bref, tout ca pour dire que comme d'habitude, notre beau pays se distingue par son souci de préserver la dignité humaine a n'importe quel prix... bon a priori c'est bon pour le commerce extérieur, ca amène de la croissance, cessons de nous plaindre!

Ca me donne une forte envie de me saouler la gueule et d'enrichir par la même occasion Pernod Ricard, grand défenseur des cancers devant l'Eternel.. Vive les drogues legales!

I was listening to some radio programme this morning before going to work, the subject was how to improve the carbon footprint and reduce the ecological consequences of our post-capitalist ways of life. I was wondering about where to begin and with what. The main problem in my case would be to stop taking flights. Living abroad, the airport has become my train station, I go there as often as a person living on the continent would take the bus. I have a sea to cross, two even, and I am still wondering about how to reconcile my taste for travelling and my pseudo political consciousness. I went on wondering about those things the whole day long. My way of transport is not the accused one: I cycle all the time, I have never driven a car in my life, I have my driving licence for a motorbike but I've never owned one. Then, my way of eating: I eat less and less meat, try to privilege the organically grown vegetables, produced locally (even though the locally produced in Ireland are quite limited). I do produce too much waste though, and I am trying to reduce the amount of plastic bags.. Not an easy thing to do either, the slightest banana is wrapped in a plastic envelope in this country.

The most difficult matter for me is to know which is the most ecologically responsible way of drying my hands after going to the bathroom (I like using the word "bathroom", it is so bloody stupid not to use the word "toilets" anymore just because you kinda admit you're going for a pee this way). Anyway, once those hands are washed, let's say in the office, how the hell do you dry them? If you use the papers provided, you produce a lot of waste, and this paper is generally treated with a lot of chlore. Otherwise you can use the electric hand dryer. But this uses electricity, and electricity in Ireland is produced almost exclusively from fossil energies. Then you can still carry your own handkerchief and use it again and again, but this handkerchief will have to be washed at some point, which uses electricity + detergent. The debate's still open...

If you want to know what your carbon footprint is per year, and how to reduce it, you can go to

http://www.earthday.net/footprint/info.asp?country=France&language=French&wwf=True

We would need 2 planets like the Earth if everyone was living the way I do..

Cieux irlandais

Encore une photo prise de ma fenetre, de chambre cette fois-ci (vous devez vous dire "elle passe sa journee a prendre des photos de sa fenetre celle-la" ben oui en ce moment, oui). Voici la lumiere de l'Irlande, telle que l'on peut la voir apres le 62eme jour de pluie consecutif (source, RTE, la tele nationale locale). Je vous rappelle que l'Irlande est a la meme latitude que le Danemark, les jours sont en consequence tres longs l'ete et extremement courts l'hiver (avec la deprime qui va avec.. pas moyen de voir la lumiere du jour si l'on travaille, c'est pas evident a supporter). Alors sur les conseils de ma copine Eleonore, je fais une petite serie sur les cieux irlandais, parce que c'est beau.

Plantes et autres carnivores

La photo que vous voyez a ete prise sur le rebord de fenetre de mon petit appartement. J'ai cede a la tentation des planteses carnivores, et voici la preuve que ces petites choses (celle que j'ai doit faire maximum 15 cm de haut) bouffe de la viande! La pauvre mouche, j'espere qu'elle n'a pas trop souffert. Je suis curieuse maintenant de savoir combien de temps elle va mettre pour la digerer..

La plante en question est une "venus flytrap", un piege a mouche avec le nom de la deesse de l'amour, je trouve la combinaison charmante. "Viens par ici mon petit, regarde comme je suis jolie et attirante.." Bzzzz et glurps!

Temps de brin....

Today I got a new job. It is the same work as the last one, only permanent contract and in the historical part of the city. I'll be there cycling about 15 minutes, the government's buildings and the Taoisach's (pronounce Teeshock, prime minister) department will be just a few doors away. I cannot say I am jumping with enthusiasm even though I am glad and relieved. Not so much more to say for the moment. The two pictures represent either a fantasy either the reality. The first picture was taken in Mexico last year. The second picture was taken on the Dublin seaside this morning...

Have a nice weekend all! Bisous

Protester en Irlande

Alors la photo qui est attachee a ce texte ne devrait pas etre trop exotique pour ceux d'entre vous qui vivent sous le regime sarkozyste. Ceci est un membre de la Garda Siochana (prononcer Gaarda Chiocana), un flic quoi. Les contestations sociales etant une chose assez rare en Irlande (mais elles sont traitees par la police irlandaise de la meme facon qu'a la maison, c'est presque emouvant), je vous raconte ce qu'il se passe avec le mouvement "Shell to Sea". La denommee compagnie petroliere (au fait, pardon pour l'absence d'accents mais c'est tres chiant a faire sur le clavier ici) souhaite, avec l'accord du gouvernement construire un gazoduc long de plusieurs kilometres dans la region de Mayo, a l'Ouest du pays. Malgre les protestations des habitants (le gazoduc est un projet jamais encore realise, les militants denoncent des risques environnementaux et contestent la securite du site), le gouvernement a donne son aval. Et ca dure depuis 2003... La Haute Cour de justice a en 2005 a rendu un jugement favorable a Shell en lui donnant autorisation de penetrer sur des proprietes privees (par exemple les jardins des 16 maisons qui seront dans un rayon de moins de 2 kilometres de la centrale). Cette meme cour a condamne 5 militants de Rossport (dans le meme coin) pour obstruction aux travaux. Et c'est a partir de la que les choses ont commence a bouger au niveau national et qu'une contestation dans tout le pays s'est mise en place. Bon, c'est a l'irlandaise.. mais quand meme! Les mouvements de contestation ont fait tellement pression sur Shell qu'ils ont permis que ceux-ci retirent la plainte contre les Rossport 5 qui ont ete depuis liberes, le lobbying vers les norvegiens (oui Shell c'est aussi Statoil, et ca c'est norvegien) marche aussi, des delegues ayant ete depeches sur place et remettant en cause le trace du gazoduc.

Et pour faire le lien avec la photo, ce gentil cop est en fait en train de tabasser des manifestants dans le comte Mayo, qui ont porte plainte.. Ah j'en aurais presque le mal du pays....

Pictures Trip Mexico

This is a selection of some pictures I took when I was travelling with my copine Elodie last year. A very partial view of course, the country's so wide, so rich, so diverse. So those images are taken in Mexico City, Palenque and San Cristobal de las Casas (both cities are in the Chiapas area, a beaaaautiful but terribly poor region).

Qui est fou?

Today I went to my weekly psycholanalysis session. When this lovely guy (whom I pay a lot to listen to my crap) asked how I would categorize myself, I described it as I thought it was, i.e. middle-class / slightly academic very usual person. He noticed I never mentioned my gender. And in fact, I don't think this is relevant. Why should I be considered a woman before the forementioned elements? I asked him what the proportion was between women and men when it came to psychosis and insanity. He told me the proportion was 80 / 20. Are we all chicks absolutely insane? But wait a minute... Who defined insanity? My petit doigt tells me it is a person born with the male-gender... What is so surprising then that in a world where men have power, where men define what is normal or not that the other gender, conditioned as it is (and don't misunderstand me there, men are conditioned too, and harshly so..) does not comply to the society which is not created at their image and hat this male gender despises everything that would considered as "the other" (i.e. female. Who has never said "don't be a girl / a sissy, you have to be tough"?). Next week I'll ask my analyst if what he is doing to me is not an attempt to "normalise" me (as if there was such a thing) and put me into those categories that the precious BUT phallocratic Freud created. And to end with this, a quote from Jean Dubuffet: "For me, insanity is super sanity. The normal is psychotic. Normal means lack of imagination, lack of creativity."

JAPAN!

C'est beau le Japon nan?

Ca fait un mois et demi qu'il pleut, j'en ai marre! Une petite photo de Dublin pour les gens egoistes et terriblement mechants qui ne sont pas encore venus me voir.

This is Mexico City.

This was the first stage of our 6 week-long trip. Mexico City is, needless to say, absolutely huge. Oppresssive, dirty, boyant. Millions of souls walking, running, begging, families staying on the footpath, thousands of tourists trying to speak English with the autochtones. smell of tortillas.. and men. Oppressive impression to be looked at, stared at the whole time. If it is possible to integrate theory in a sensorial experience, then I can say that the feminist approach as the woman considered as "the other" is terribly suitable for Mexico. There is no such thing as equality, universalism or discretion in the Mexican society. Not as a tourist anyway. It is not possible to forget the gender one belongs to since men around you keep telling you what you are: a walking object, the other, the weak one. This impression never left me during the whole trip, except on the South Pacific Coast, which is a peace haven.

French Taunting - Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Fetchez la vache!

I arrived in Mexico one year and 10 days ago, came back to Dublin 6 weeks afterwards.

For this period of time I've been lazy, postponing the time when at last those bloody pictures would be published. It is apparently very unfashionable to develop pictures on paper. Alright the web version is cheaper. Alright, it prevents people from putting their greasy fingers on them and it takes less space in shoe boxes. BUT I have as usual something to complain about: it is standardized, everyone can make fun of my pictures because they can access the blog, and it makes me do other things than working at work which is unproductive. Oh well, think I'll live with my contradictions.