Okay. The situation is the following:
:: I work on three different computers in three different places
:: I work on a number of projects in totally different areas
:: Often I need a file or a document that is not on the computer on which I am
:: More often I should share one document with other people involved in the project or clients

Last but not least, I hate laptops. To me their screens sux, their keyboards are awful, their touch pads are useless. My notebook recharger is way much heavier than the computer itself, but it doesn’t matter as I should bring them both.

Along with the stupid computer usually I should bring along a number of printed materials, CDs, digital cameras and all that (excuse me!) sh*t. My bag is as big as a camel hump and I hate that.

So, I need software that is open-sourced and that could be installed on a server solving the problem with the file access and the project management process.

Any ideas?

Call Center

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PS: This movie came just in time. The company I'm working for is making a new call center. When I went back to my desk after another half-day arrangement of workstations, computers and telephones, I simply wanted to kill someone. Call Center the Movie got back my good mood and belief that oh, my, there is always someone worse than our organization.

Vincent Malloy

This was intended to be shared for Helloween. However, suddenly I had to leave the city for a while and when I was back, the tasks-roller coaster grabbed me.
I haven't stopped thinking that I want to publish Vincent and now when the Thanksgiving is so close, I decided "its really high time to do it!" Here it is:

Vincent Malloy is seven years old,
He’s always polite and does what he’s told.

For a boy his age he’s considerate and nice,
But he wants to be just like Vincent Price.

He doesn’t mind living with his sister, dog and cat,
Though he’d rather share a home with spiders and bats.

There he could reflect on the horrors he’s invented,
And wander dark hallways alone and tormented.

Vincent is nice when his aunt comes to see him,
But imagines dipping her in wax for his wax museum.

He likes to experiment on his dog Abacrombie,
In the hopes of creating a horrible zombie.

So he and his horrible zombie dog,
Could go searching for victims in the London fog.

His thoughts aren’t only of ghoulish crime,
He likes to paint and read to pass the time.

While other kids read books like Go Jane Go,
Vincent’s favorite author is Edgar Allen Poe.

One night while reading a gruesome tale,
He read a passage that made him turn pale.

Such horrible news he could not survive,
For his beautiful wife had been buried alive.

He dug out her grave to make sure she was dead,
Unaware that her grave was his mother’s flower bed.

His mother sent Vincent off to his room,
He knew he’d been banished to the tower of doom.

Where he was sentenced to spend the rest of his life,
Alone with a portrait of his beautiful wife.

While alone and insane, encased in his tomb,
Vincent’s mother suddenly burst into the room.

“If you want to you can go outside and play.
It’s sunny outside and a beautiful day.”

Vincent tried to talk, but he just couldn’t speak,
The years of isolation had made him quite weak.

So he took out some paper, and scrawled with a pen,
“I am possessed by this house, and can never leave it again.”

His mother said, “You’re not possessed, and you’re not almost dead.
These games that you play are all in your head.

You’re not Vincent Price, you’re Vincent Malloy.
You’re not tormented, you’re just a young boy.”

“You’re seven years old, and you’re my son,
I want you to get outside and have some real fun.”

Her anger now spent, she walked out through the hall,
While Vincent backed slowly against the wall.

The room started to sway, to shiver and creak.
His horrid insanity had reached its peak.

He saw Abacrombie his zombie slave,
And heard his wife call from beyond the grave.

She spoke from her coffin, and made ghoulish demands.
While through cracking walls reached skeleton hands.

Every horror in his life that had crept through his dreams,
Swept his mad laugh to terrified screams.
To escape the madness, he reached for the door,

So he and his horrible zombie dog,
But fell limp and lifeless down on the floor.

His voice was soft and very slow,
As he quoted The Raven from Edgar Allen Poe,

"And my soul from out that shadow floating on the floor,
Shall be lifted –Nevermore!"

Exercise in style

I had an assignment at the Academy this week, and the task was to observe and then to describe the street where I live.

I already know that my street will be quite a vertical one and that I am going to describe the apartments block where I live, because you see, there are more blocks than streets in my district. The Street is just the message. Or the media. Or… well whatever, it’s more important to have a good story than just a boring explanation.

Meanwhile I shared this with my mother. She mentioned the Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas and that this play could help me figure out my story. Thanks, mom! :)

Here you can listen the play