Time for the little disclaimer: this isn’t my photo, I didn’t take it, it was a friend of a friend. I wasn’t lucky enough to find such a charming piece!

But then you realise “ah, it can’t be him, he has a piercing.”

…

How I Met Your Mother‘s doppelganger theory doesn’t sound so weird right now. It might be true! Oh, one small step…

But theories never come alone, so it brings us to another, quite interesting theory: what if we not only have a doppelganger, but also a politically active doppelganger, whose face can be seen in billboards? Hum? How about that? I’m sure if that were true, things would be rather easy to know, with their faces out there in public, they ought to be noticed.

Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be around some Occupy places to see if I can find my doppel.

But although that’s not the current state of things, there’s still a wonderful read for you here, if you are portuguese and you want to keep in touch with what’s going on. Thankies go to Catarina for the wonderful state of the art.

As far as I’m concerned, nothing againts authors. I don’t care if they’re doing well or not, although I hope they’re fine. What I don’t understand, rather, what I can’t handle is that some white knights come to my house (figuratively, ofc) stating that the author’s rights need to be protected and the only way for that to happen is to interfere with my individual rights and with what I do in my home’s privacy. Collecting taxes from a crime I did not perform. It doens’t solve the matter at all and, frankly, I think it will only make it worse. But these white knights, who have no idea how privacy works, feel like they know best.

And by the way, that little tax thing? I don’t care if it’s small or bearable; one cent is already too much to pay for a crime I didn’t commit.

This blessing comes with a new background image! Neat, no?

Something that blews my anger out of proportions: blogs with terrible formatting.

C’mon guys. I’m yet to see a blogging platform which does not provide useful, beautiful free templates. And if you want and can change them, the least I can ask is for you to do it properly and not completely ruin the original.

I haven’t even drawn recently.

For the first time in some months, my whrist decided to complain. So, right away, I put my band(age) on and went on living with slightly stiff movements as I studied for my last exam this season.

And I studied a lot, so I was feeling pretty confident. I had a broad understanding of the concepts and I had solved the previous’ years exams pretty well. Yesterday’s exam couldn’t be all that different.

The thing is, it as. This is a problem because the course’s contents are so large it is almost impossible to study the whole thing through, especially if one is thinking about retaining the knowledge. I had to look at the previous’ years exames for some guidance; considering they were all pretty similar, I could only safely assume this one would foccus on the same parts of the contents. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so confident about being able to solve those old exams. But they were my only guidance after all.

I only needed to read the exam once to know things weren’t going to end up good. I read the questions thinking to myself “well, I sure can’t answer that one, I only know half of this, I have no idea about this thing here and I shouldn’t even try on that one…” Who hasn’t done that at least once?

Even throwing a few questions to the “I give up” can, I still have a lot to answer to. And the answers were pretty extensive as well, but at least I could try to come up with something. And so I gave them a try. About halfway through I notice my hand wasn’t enjoying the task and I eventually had to stop writting because I just couldn’t do it anymoe. Taking rests every now and then and trying to write a little further afterwards.

After some time, I realised there was no point in trying any further and delivered the papers so I could go home. All that’s well ends well, right? Not so right by thr time I got to the train station.

I arrived just in time to see my sister’s car getting hit.

If it was grave? Oh no, no. She only got the car’s door scratched. But still, enough to get the insurance into the bussiness, that’s a given. And I had to wait until she called our parents, then until they arrived (because they always take long to arrive to the station, even though we don’t live that far from it) and then more time to stand them talking to the other car’s owners. Through all of this, I could only selfishly think about how hungry I was (dinner time, anyone?) and how my hand was in pain. The only thing I wanted was to go home, have some foods and crash on my bed. But then I had to listen to my sister telling me everything about the frikken incident I actually had seen because, well, I was there.

Time for a note: by the time I got home, there was no dinner. Good thing How I met Your Mother was on TV, or my moods would’ve been on negative degrees.

I guess this season will have to go for the best group by now. It’s just like everyday has something new waiting for me.

On the other hand, you could go and say how selfish I’m being by complaining about these small problems of mine, or about making it all a big deal. Let me tell you, I’ve made bigger deals of smallers things (not that I’m proud, though). I’ll just let you know the little disclaimer, I do take somethings seriously.

Now I’ll have to deal with the Cable TV problem, which is, on itself, a whole ‘nother story.