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Tuesday 28 January 2020

Textbook toxic.

It's been a while since the last time I met a textbook toxic person. Back in 2016, I signed up for a Teaching course, because, ever since I graduated from university in the field of English Language and Literature, I resolved to start investing in vocational training courses.

There I met a radio announcer whom I got on well with very quickly: we worked together and did a couple of projects together. I honestly liked her: she was outgoing, creative, talkative and witty. Nevertheless, she had a mistake: a superiority complex whereby she used to give me advice that I hadn't asked for.

Every day after class, when we would walk towards the car park, she would light a cigarette and instruct me on how to manage my own business. At the beginning, I honestly thought she was trying to help, even if I hadn't asked for her advice.

She had introduced herself as a radio announcer and a vocal coach, and had to deliver a (vocal coaching) workshop in Switzerland, in English; therefore, she told me she counted on me to prepare it. I willingly accepted her offer: I helped her translate her PowerPoint presentation, create a small glossary on technical vocabulary and allowed her to rehearse her speech in front of me.

When our lessons were over, I asked her to post a positive comment on one of my professional profiles, which is something that a lot of people do. However, she simply pretended she didn't have the time.

By the time she refused to post the comment, I had already realised that she was just a textbook toxic person: by giving me unwanted advice, she was trying to create insecurities in me that didn't exist before or, perhaps, bolster the already existing ones.

She was a progressive Galician nationalist. She never told me but guessed from the conversations.

A month ago, I signed up for a private History of Galicia course, as I have some post-graduate instruction in Tourism. There I met a guy that worked as a Galician linguist. His way of interacting in the conversation was unusual: no matter what I said, he would contradict it, over and over again. Average people agree, disagree, add something up to the previous comment, express sympathy, share an anecdote, etc.

But he didn't. He would just contradict what I stated in almost a pathological way. Having a conversation with someone like that man can be exasperating.

Since I'm not a therapist, I can't assess what these self-defensive psychological mechanisms hide. However, I'm afraid it's all about envy or dominion.

He was another left-winger and a Galician nationalist.

The more experienced I get with these people, the more I realise that this ideology fails to empower highly domineering individuals with a serious inferiority complex and little tolerance towards frustration.

Looking back, I can't believe, at some point in my life, I thought I was one of them.


Monday 19 November 2018

I've made my bed, I'll lie on it.

That's the way I like summing up my fleeting university experience. I remember there used to be three types of professors. The commonest and, perhaps, most annoying one was that who would dictate the class notes, a kind of individual that takes undergraduates for medieval monks. I could copy quite quickly, even if my notes weren't the most aesthetically pleasing ones, but, as I was always unsure about what I was jotting down, I would find my feet coming in the photocopy shop around the corner every now and then to ask for the previous year's notes. I would, then, compare both bundles to correct and complete my own.

The second type of professor was the lazy one: a life-tenured public employee that couldn't bother less about preparing a class. He'd rather hand out a bundle of papers and improvise: ramble about the alleged topic of the day for an hour without even using the blackboard, explaining key concepts or proposing practical exercises. Noam Chomsky is the public figure that best fits this type: he's a wonderful linguist yet a terrible communicator, incapable of catching the audience's attention for longer than one minute. No matter how much Linguistics interests you. Listening to him ramble is boring to tears. 

Then, I would arrive home, read the handout on my own and make my own notes. I had wasted my time by attending that stupid class.

Finally, I remember the one that would display advanced techniques: a PowerPoint presentation. She would shout: 'do not copy! Just pay attention!' And that's what I would do: to pay attention. Then, she would email the presentation to us lot, but it was so simple that I couldn't use it to prepare for my exams. I was unsure about understanding the key concepts correctly, as some time had gone by since that class, and lacked the precise words to express myself appropriately. Therefore, I used to get down to the faculty's library, look for the definitions among the books and make my own notes again.

I claim full credit for my education.


From Pixabay, free of copyright.

Saturday 27 October 2018

I give up my translation career.

Ever since I got my degree in English, I've worked as a translator, as I had spent some optional credits in undergraduate Translation modules. I would translate for charities for free while teaching English and French privately. As soon as I realised I could do it, I signed up as a translator at the tax office; but clients wouldn't contact me as frequently as I would like them to. Later on, I got a job as an in-company English teacher and combined both activities, as well as private tuition, for a long time. 

And that's pretty much the way I've got along in recent years.

Working as a freelance translator or a proofreader is extremely challenging in Spain. It's an unsteady job and clients tend to bargain the rates. I can do it as long as I get a stable income from private tuition, in-company teaching or occupational training courses, as paying public insurance is extremely expensive for freelancers in this country.

I've given in to the seduction of liberal ideas in recent months, but something within me refused to accept that left-wingers were those that steal money from the working class and give it to public workers, creating, thus, a terrible dependency upon the privileged few that provide public services.

Well, it's true.

Working conditions for Spanish freelancers are expected to worsen dramatically in 2019 so as to make us give up working freelance and apply for a proper job, as they're promising a €900 salary —regardless of whether small and medium companies can pay it or not—, or prepare for competitive public examinations. 

Of course, they aren't making decisions based on the economy but rather ideology.

Taking into account how unstable it is to translate freelance, I won't be able to pay public insurance by teaching privately while waiting for translation projects. So, I've resolved to give up my translation career and bet on teaching. I won't work for small English academies, though, as they pay little money (informally). That's crystal-clear for me.

As long as the illiterate moron that currently rules Spain, Pedro Sánchez, Ph.D. (😂), is in office, I won't pay more than €300 a month for my work (regardless of my monthly earnings).

The Kingdom of Spain abuses freelancers and family businesses against human rights.

It's over.


From Pixabay. Free of copyright.

Wednesday 24 October 2018

No necesito vuestra «discriminación positiva».

A lo largo de mi vida he tenido dificultades para conseguir trabajo, pero no por ser gay, sino por ser un hombre. Antes de licenciarme, quería trabajar de camarero, porque había hecho un curso de formación poco después de acabar la selectividad. Lo cierto es que me costó mucho encontrar mi primer empleo porque, por aquel entonces, todos los empresarios de la hostelería contrataban a determinado perfil de mujeres: primero, porque son unos babosos; segundo, porque ese perfil de chicas atrae a más clientes y, tercero, porque les pagan menos y las controlan mejor.

Finalmente, conseguí empleo para una empresa de trabajo temporal —administrada por mujeres— y trabajé de camarero durante una temporada, sobre todo el año anterior a irme de Erasmus, porque necesitaba un colchoncito para mantenerme en Inglaterra hasta que llegasen las becas (¡en primavera!) Después de licenciarme, he trabajado poco por cuenta ajena, porque no cambio la libertad del autónomo por nada del mundo; pero, de las pocas veces que he trabajado para centros de formación, siempre he sido seleccionado por mujeres, no porque éstas vayan a decantarse necesariamente por un chico, sino porque consideran la candidatura de quienes no nos parecemos a una presentadora de laSexta.

A día de hoy, me consta que muchos compañeros —masculino del plural— tienen dificultades para ejercer como intérpretes, porque los empresarios solo contratan los servicios de chicas —que ni siquiera son especialistas: ni traductoras de carrera ni filólogas— por los mismos motivos expuestos en el primer párrafo. Por eso, como hombre, no me intimida que sean ellas quienes ocupen los puestos de dirección de las empresas porque, con ellas, puedo tener una oportunidad de trabajar pero, con un tío, no tengo ninguna, ni yo ni ningún hombre heterosexual que trabaje en el sector servicios.

Sin embargo, nunca me he sentido discriminado por mi orientación sexual. No me corresponde a mí hablar en nombre de mujeres lesbianas y personas trans, pero creo que el del hombre gay es un perfil muy valorado profesionalmente, sobre todo en determinados sectores, como la venta y atención al público, por ejemplo. También la docencia. Por la buena presencia y las formas, para empezar. Y ya sé que no todo el mundo encaja en el estereotipo pero éste existe por un motivo.

Yo creo que los señores y señoras de determinadas izquierdas, además de venir a limpiar Fontiñas, deberían buscarse un juguetito nuevo para entretenerse con él porque, después, la gente se cree que hombres gays y mujeres lesbianas andamos por ahí exigiendo privilegios, y tenemos que comernos con patatas las olas de homofobia derivadas de ocurrencias disparatadas como la del consistorio de La Coruña.


From Pixabay. Free of copyright.

Monday 22 October 2018

Catalan vs Pluricentric languages.

The main European languages spoken in the Americas—namely, English, Spanish, Portuguese and French—are pluricentric languages. In other words, they're spoken in different territories and by different communities. Each variety shows phonological, grammatical, lexical and semantic differences, as expected in any ethnic language, and are regulated by independent authorities. However, no variety is deemed inferior, discredited or less prestigious than the one spoken in the neighbouring state or at the other side of the Atlantic.

This is the case of British and American English, Peninsular and Brazilian Portuguese, Metropolitan and Canadian French and, last but not least, Peninsular, Mexican, Caribbean and South American Spanish. Not surprisingly, the Royal Spanish Academy regards the Rioplatense (Argentina and Uruguay) pronouns and conjugations as correct. Yet not only does Argentina have a different, as well as legitimate, standard language from Spain, but also Mexico. Actually, in Spain, we grew up watching Disney, Hanna-Barbera and Looney Tunes cartoons, as well as Peanuts, in Mexican Spanish (or rather 'neutral' Mexican-Colombian), because that's the traditional variety of dubbing. Hence, in Spanish, the Latin American varieties are considered as acceptable, prestigious and correct as the European one.

The situation in Europe is no different. The European varieties of French, such as Walloon (Belgium) and Franco-Provençal (Switzerland), aren't subordinated to the criteria of the French academy. Actually, the French typically say that both the Swiss and the Belgians have a thick accent, different from theirs. This is also the way German is conceived. As far as I know, nobody speaks proper German in Switzerland or Austria, but their own national varieties, which are often hard to understand for the Germans themselves. Likewise, nobody speaks proper German in Alsacia (France) and Trentino-South Tyrol (Italy). However, nobody questions the wholeness of these two languages and everyone accepts linguistic variation.

The main Western European languages serve as a model for other pluricentric languages, such as Macedonian and Bulgarian, Flemish and Dutch, Corsican and Italian, Serbian and Croatian or Danish and Norwegian, which, in turn, has two different standard languages: Bokmål and Nynorsk.

Nevertheless, there's one language that disrupts the harmonious pluricentric languages' status quo: Catalan. Catalonian nationalists, who are among the most snobbish, dishonest and manipulative people on Earth, are generally pissed off by the fact that Valencian has an independent standard language, which reasonably favours the local phonology, grammar and vocabulary. By confusing (historical) language and standard language, Catalonian politicians complain that their language has been split into different minor dialects.

What their arrogance doesn't allow them to understand is that the Valencian standard, as well as the largely documented historical name of it (valencià), is as legitimate as theirs. However, they appear to be much more satisfied with the situation in the Balearic Islands, where they've imposed the Catalonian variety at schools whereas children are taught to use their native dialect at home, in informal situations. This has made Balearic islanders diglossic.


From Pixabay. Free of copyright.

Tuesday 16 October 2018

It's getting worse.

We all know they were a bit out of their minds in the loony left, but now they've definitely gone crackers. Pedro Sánchez, the magician that ended the Mediterranean migrant crisis by harbouring the Aquarius, has reached an agreement with Iran-funded neo-Commies Podemos on the General State Budget for 2019—which is still to be passed in Brussels and Madrid—whereby they've resolved to artificially raise the Spanish minimum wage up to €900 a month. The good news is that those that work for others will earn more, as though they lived in Switzerland or Luxembourg. The bad news is that this is post-recession Spain—let's not forget—and only big companies will be able to stand such a policy. Not sure about the newsagent's around the corner.

But what's more, since the minimum wage is linked to the self-employed social security contributions, these—which had already risen in the Rajoy era—will equally go through the roof. Most of us, freelancers, currently pay a monthly amount of €278 for social security, which is unthinkable in any other European country; but, from January 2019 on, we'll be made to pay the ridiculous amount of €314 a month [!!!] should we earn an income higher than €900. And, on top of that, little is known about what's going to happen with those that can't make as much money as the new minimum wage figure. There exist two options: to be exempt from paying, which translates into not having a pension after retirement, or pay a cheaper amount, which implies contributing for a poorer pension. The latter is, of course, the least bad option for those of us who dislike wasting our time and wish to keep contributing while seeking for a better source of income.

In my case, a miserable freelance linguist: should I teach foreign languages privately, I'll probably be exempt from contributing and, simultaneously, assume the consequences of it. Nevertheless, should I get to translate something or teach a course, I'll be made to pay €314 a month for my work instead of using that money for paying rent or investing in myself and my property. It's like being given a fine for... Working! 😰


From Pixabay. Free of copyright.

Friday 12 October 2018

Hispanic Heritage Day.

It's been a while since I last identified as a left-wing Galician nationalist. I've discovered the liberal authors, such as Milton Friedman and Thomas Szasz, and have become a less collectivist person. Yet my aversion for authoritative states hasn't changed; just channel it differently. So, I'm not very excited about the 12th of October. Nevertheless, at the end of the day, I still am—and am perceived—as a Spanish man. So, on a day like today, I feel like standing up for Spain.

In spite of the black legend of the Spanish empire, the truth is that the American nations—Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch, French and English-speaking—are much more responsible for the Amerindian genocide than Spain, whose Catholic missionaries didn't wipe out the natives but rather baptised and taught them how to read (in Castilian Spanish, of course). I won't deny that Spaniards played a highly complex chess game, by allying with some indigenous nations under Aztec, Mayan and Inca rule, in order to bring those empires down; or that a lot of people died when getting infected by European diseases. However, making us, present-day Spaniards, bear the karma of the native American genocide is racist.

Needless to say, the history of the United States, where the bulk of the population is either white or black (at least, before 1892), is the record of the building of a new country at the expense of the native Americans' lands (e.g. Trail of Tears, 1831-50). But the history of some Latin American nations is no different. I find it equally necessary to denounce the human rights violations carried out by the Latin American republics, because there still are Amerindian peoples over there with their own languages and cultures. Those countries, often ruled by populist governments, have a very strong tendency to divert attention away from their own crimes by singling out Spain, a country that retreated from the Americas 300 years ago.

Among all the Latin American nations, as far as the rights of indigenous peoples are concerned, the most criminal nation has fairly been the Argentinian Republic, who're celebrating the Día del Respeto a la Diversidad Cultural (sic) today, and, nowadays, shame looms over Mexico, Chile and, very especially, Brazil. 

Just sayin'.