Untouching the Untouchables

His blood covers the tablecloth. Spreading around slowly but consciously. Overflowing the well-laid plates, staining the shine of cutlery. White's whiteness has gone away: already red, deep red -- evil red. The source of the stream is just somebody's head, a crushed skull. But there is no need to worry: he is not scared any more.

Teamwork is holy. One member relying on another, the group relying on the individual. Like in baseball. If the pitcher fails, the team fails. Catchers, pitchers, outfielders and infielders all work
in a chain, a link. The second baseman doesn't make a catch and the full point is gone. Same applies to business.

Bootlegging booze in the times of prohibition, well, big money but big risk. And if the crusader cop and his squad of 'untouchables' manage to confiscate the liquor shipment... It means that somebody has failed -- and somebody has to pay for it.

Teamwork is holy -- holy as grave.

And here endeth the lesson.

/Click here for the source of the picture./

Through the glasses of... - podcast!

Thanks to my great teacher, Joe, now you can LISTEN to 'Through the glasses of... a different person', my latest story.


Can't get enough of it? :) Check out the rest of Joe's podcasts, too! ;)

Through the glasses of... a different person

Close your eyes. Walk. Feel. Experience. It's dark in here -- very dark.

Find the handle. It's right there in front of you, you just need to guess at what height. You push it and enter the room. Pass your hand over the wall. It runs into something hard. Made of wood, tall and wide. There are shelves in it -- you can feel them. You go further. Step cautiously. You bump into a table. Yes, it's obviously a table. And chairs, there are chairs as well. You touch them -- so now you see them.

You continue to pace carefully. The material of the floor has changed -- it's different to walk on it. Harder and you can hear the knocking of your heels. You touch the wall. It's cold. You make a few steps ahead. You stretch out your hand. Your palm perceives an object. Smooth down your hand on it -- see it? A cooker. And there is a cupboard nearby. A tap. You feel it's a tap.

Look for a glass. Not so easy if you don't remember where you put it. You find it. Now try to pour some water into it. Reach out for the tap. Empty space, empty space -- finally something. You feel the metal tube of the tap. Now you only need to drag your palm further and open it. Got it.


You move further gingerly with the glass of water in your hand. Again there is a door in front of you. You go through it. Soft breeze touches your face. It brings you the scent of spring flowers. A pretty warm weather, you can feel it on your skin. Hear the birds singing? What a beautiful day. Just it's dark out here. Still dark. Very dark.


(Click here for the source of the picture.)

Nice, ain't it?

I was grasping a flower in my hand on the last day of the Cappelle-la-Grande tournament. A glistening red and yellow rose, a really nice one. I was walking up and down with it in the tournament hall. Walking up and down with it while everybody was guessing who I got it from. I just kept on smiling and being proud at this tiny stunner.

Wasn't the first time in my life, of course, that I received a flower. I merit a rose or a bouquet of flower usually for my chess achievements. A kind of a present and I really like it.

The other option is obtaining a flower for personal reasons, like from a guy at a rendezvous. Occasionally it happens to me, too, and I'm glad for it.


But this red and yellow little wonder could make me even happier. Because this flower was something different. This flower was special. It wasn't a recognition of chess results, no. Wasn't a proposal for a date either.

So what it was? -- A gentle gesture. The reason for my reaping the rose was simply this: being nice. I've got the flower because of being nice. "It's from all the Spanish guys because you were so nice to us" -- David stated, and all I can say is a big thank you, with smiling-proud face.

So muchas gracias, amigos!


(Click here for the source of the picture.)

Good enough

I have some moments when I find myself being not satisfied with what I've got. Sometimes it's in connection with my outlook: to be somewhat fatter, to need bigger size in bra, to grow above my sister in height, to have darker eyelashes and whatever.

At other moments I'm disappointed of a tournament, a lost game, a missed prize, a not-that-well performed presentation or a less successful test. I have these moments when nothing is good enough.

And I guess many other human-creatures -- if not all of them -- have such moments, too. Concerning different topics but same disappointment. Seems like the more we have the more we want.

I was bothering myself with such 'problems' this morning as well. And then Life the wise came and smacked me in the face. It arrived in the form of a walk, just a single walk. A walk nearby rag-beds, newspaper shelters -- smutty-faced inhabitants.

Just try to stare into their eyes and say you are not lucky enough.

A so-wished award

Oh, wow... I didn't think it could happen to me... Getting such an award... Cheerful applause, smiling faces, flashes of lights -- and I am at a loss for words. Hesitating for a while... OK, let's have a go with the usual clichés.

I would like to say thanks to my family who always supported me: my parents, my sister, my grandmothers, my godmother, my cousins. To my friends, the neighbours, and to Gmail for bringing me the good news.

Special thanks to my mother for teaching me how to speak and write, and for my teachers who helped me improving my language skills -- Hungarian and English, from primary school to uni. I'm grateful to the tournaments abroad for bringing me into a "forced to speak in English" situation and to my foreign friends for making me write regularly in English. I'm much obliged to my friends for being my friends.

I greatly appreciate my cousin's supporting my living in England during the postponed university year. I would also like to express my gratitude to Abra Wholesales, Marian Mission, AYS and Teaching Personnel for employing me and providing the financial base of my London stay.

I'm thankful to my father for teaching me how to use the computer, and to my penfriends for improving my typing skills. I recognize the Matáv-T-com company for supplying me with Internet and the Blogspot site for the wonderful service they provided.

Though, I want to reserve the most special thanks for the Reading & Writing course -- with its great teacher, Joe, and his superb students. Without Joe's fantastic idea, the task for blogging, I couldn't even dream of this prize -- also, he showed me how to fly. :) I'm most grateful to my classmates for being so nice, friendly, helpful, funny, cool, and... thanks for their nominations and votes, too. :)

All in all, thank you guys! I've never ever got a Blogscar before. ;)


(Click here for the source of the picture.)

Pride but prejudice

Too fat, too short, too skinny or too tall. Brown, black or yellow skin. Wider nose, rougher hair, oriental eyes. A Jew, a Gipsy, a Chinese, a "Negro". A girl with girlfriend or a guy with boyfriend. A geek, a policeman, a poor.
Let's just exclude all of them from society.

'Cause every Rom is a swindler, no policeman can have brain and Chinese are definitely less valuable people. If you are fat from Burger King, you are also out -- can't belong to Us, us with capital "u". Calling somebody a "Jew" or a "Negro" is abusive in itself, so what do you want with such origins?! Want to marry your girlfriend, you, as a woman?! Oh, gosh! Eager beaver in school? Go away! No money for stylish stuffs? What a shame!
Let's just exclude all of them from Us. From Us, from 'normal people'.

But since when does your birth place can issue who you are? Since when does your blood decides your being good or not? Since when does loving your own gender makes you a worse person? Since when does having less money indicates your being of a lower value? Since when does a 'worse' outlook means a worse personality? Since when...?!

Since when can people judge others so superficially -- according to prejudices and stereotypes?