Selfishenough

Post a medio pensamiento

2011-08-19T23:44:00.001-05:00

... Lo que sucede es que yo no sé de finales. La cantidad de historias inconclusas hasta a mí misma me sorprende. Y luego, ¿por qué vuelven? Zaaaaas, no sé terminar historias.

Ahhh, pero ya lo dijo Margaret Atwood... bueno, más o menos... Todas las historias terminan igual (porque sí, claro que sí existe el final definitivo), entonces lo importante no es eso, sino la trama. Damas y caballeros, es la trama!!! Y por supuesto, dentro de la trama lo importante no es el qué, sino el cómo. Eso también es cierto porque está de flojera quedarse en el qué, ¿no?

*Aunque conozco organismos de vida básica que se quedan en el nivel del chismerío, en el reino del qué... jojo, pero son tan orgullosos que lo confunden con el cómo (no me crean, pero dicen que hasta lo escriben sin acento)*

En fin, pues luego resulta que ahí voy yo con mis cómos tan enredados.

Consecuencia: mis historias carecen de finales, ¿dónde diablos queda el desenlace?, se confunden con otras cronologías, vaya usted a saber. ¿Eso me convierte en una Selfish carente de lógica?

No sé, pero tal vez lo menos lógico sean los coprotagonistas... tal vez debería llamarles antagonistas o, en el peor de los casos... ¿personajes secundarios?, ¿incidentales? Pufffff.

Lo más curioso es la mezcla espontánea de lo que aparenta ser una historia paralela o independiente. Amazing. Uhhh, cuánta inmoralidad. Y es peor cuando pienso en los otros autores... si supieran que, de cierto modo, hay partes de mis historias escritas en tinta invisible en sus propias tramas, no, mejor que no se enteren.

En fin, estoy a punto de retomar una historia. No sé si sea buena idea, sobre todo tratándose del personaje poeta maldito de bolsillo. Bueno, podría ser aterradoramente interesante y divertido, ¡tormento al puro estilo Selfish! Jajajaja :P

Bien, creo que queda claro que todo este post es acerca de literatura y nada más que literatura, ¿cierto?

.

2011-07-28T19:58:00.002-05:00

Que tanto y tanto amor se pudra, oh dioses;
que se pierda
tanto increíble amor.
Que nada quede, amigos,
de esos mares de amor,
de estas verduras pobres de las eras
que las vacas devoran
lamiendo el otro lado del césped,
lanzando a nuestros pastos
las manadas de hidras y langostas
de sus lenguas calientes.

Como si el verde pasto celestial,
el mismo océano, salado como arenque,
hirvieran.
Que tanto y tanto amor
y tanto vuelo entre unos cuerpos
al abordaje apenas de su lecho se desplome.

Que una sola munición de estaño luminoso,
una bala pequeña,
un perdigón inocuo para un pato,
derrumbe al mismo tiempo todas las bandadas
y desgarre el cielo con sus plumas.

Que el oro mismo estalle sin motivo.
Que un amor capaz de convertir al sapo en rosa
se desstroce.

Que tanto y tanto amor, una vez más, y tanto,
tanto imposible amor inexpresable,
nos vuelva tontos, monos sin sentido.

Que tanto y tanto amor queme sus naves
antes de llegar a tierra.

Es esto, dioses, poderosos amigos, perros,
niños, animales domésticos, señores,
lo que duele.

Eduardo Lizalde

*Parece mentira que ya haya pasado todo un año, ¿no? Yo si me acuerdo. Claro, porque también me acuerdo de que hace un año estaba en este mismo lugar, escribiendo. Porque recuerdo que ese día todo se acabó, que todo estaba mal y que sólo a mí me importó.

Pero ya pasó, y no quedó nada.

Las cosas son tan distintas hoy que apenas podrías creerlo.

Ja, de repente me puse muy triste... a veces quisiera darte un golpe por hacer esto :(

En fin, Eduardo Lizalde está en lo cierto. Es eso, que tanto y tanto amor se pudra... lo que duele.

Hace mucho que no escribía para ti. La verdad es que ya no era cuestión de fuerza, sino de ganas. La memoria te ha ido guardando poco a poco y todo ha mejorado. Quedan varias cosas tuyas, pero ya no me afectan igual. Tus libros siguen aquí. Ya he podido volver a leer a Mr Larkin, aunque Los Magos es un libro que no he querido abrir... tú y yo estamos ahí. Hace unos días, mientras buscaba algo en el librero, lo vi... tiene polvo, pero se ve bien la cubierta negra opacada por el polvo, sin una sola marca de dedos. Tiene gracia, podríamos hacer una analogía entre el libro y nosotros mismos.

Esperé un año, pero, bueno, hoy me despido definitivamente. Tal vez tú pienses que nunca va a llegar el momento adecuado, tal vez yo no sé esperar lo suficiente. Tal vez no importa nada.

*Mi regla es que las etiquetas de nombre son sólo para escritores, pero hoy voy a hacerla pedazos y a diferencia de todos los demás posts relacionados contigo, éste sí quedará en la etiqueta que ya te había dado. Es el punto final.

X

2011-05-31T13:23:00.000-05:00

Esa tristeza, ¿no será la tristeza pura? ¿Es eso lo que nos sobreviene cuando, al mirar atrás, los recuerdos hermosos se nos vuelven quebradizos, al ver que aquella felicidad no se alimentaba sólo de la situación del momento, sino de una promesa que no se cumplió?

Bernard Schlink, El lector

Esta es una fase extraña; tal vez es que como dice aquel buen Sith... nada puede ser tan malo y nada puede valer tanto la pena como para estar mal (genial, porque a pesar de los pesares seguimos tan juntos como podemos estar). ¿Por qué nos sentimos tan bien? Yo no sé y supongo que él tampoco, pero así es. La tranquilidad es cosa buena, pero cuando llega a tanto como ahora seguro tienes que preguntarte por qué. Ah, y es que lo que despierta la duda es saber que deberías sentirte, mínimo, con una cierta sensación de incomodidad o con la euforia de costumbre (según la situación), pero no, nada de eso. De pronto me pregunto si será vil y puro cinismo o si será que de algún modo el estoicismo se apodera de uno.

Lo cierto es que no puede ser falta de significado. Nooooo, ladies and gentlemen, todo tiene sentido y se aprecia en sus justas dimensiones, es sólo que me siento como roca. Quién sabe, tal vez sea simplemente que cuando algo te hace tanto bien, no podría dañarte jamás. Quizá sea que últimamente he adquirido el hábito de vivir como va, sin frenarme por las posibles consecuencias... porque eso ya está contemplado desde antes de dar cualquier paso, aunque en realidad no es que me importe mucho, para ser honesta.

Además, Maurens está aquí. Tuvieron que pasar cinco años para que volviera y para recordar que nos conocemos. Ja, además, llega en el momento preciso para que yo me acuerde de por qué no debemos hacer promesas movidos sólo por la emotividad del momento. Bueno, debería estar muy emocionada, pero no es así. Se siente bien, pero no estoy precisamente entusiasmada al grado de tontez... Y me caigo mal por eso (aghhhh). ¿Desaprovechando al hombre perfecto? Sí, ¿y qué?

Yo creo que mi alma anda en otro lado, va adonde se le da la gana y se lleva al cerebro de parranda. Lo peor es que ni siquiera eso me molesta en absoluto.

Y entonces... ¿qué es lo que mueve a la Selfish? Bueno, ufffffff, esa mirada... maldición, esa mirada. Por eso quiero sentirme mal, pero no puedo... Ni siquiera ASH puede creer que no ande por la vida haciendo drama.

Okay, tal vez sí sea cinismo, después de todo. Aunque bien podría ser que me esté conteniendo ¿para no quedarme?, ¿para no salir corriendo?

Música para el post

Edición: Este post era para ayer. Siempre pasan cosas cuando estoy escribiendo y aunque ya estaba practicamente terminado, decidí no publicar. Justo ahora pienso en la amistad como aire para respirar, en la claridad como aquello que nos acerca todavía más aunque de modo distinto, y en que, como dice la canción, to know him is to love him... por eso estoy bien, por eso todo está bien, por eso no me importa mucho si caminamos a ciegas, despacio, o si tomamos una velocidad que podría hacernos desaparecer. Somos amigos y punto :)

Jajajaja, bueno, seee, si me conocen entonces sabrán que nunca he sido una mujer de cuestiones definitivas e inamovibles y que siempre me ha emocionado la idea de lo que pueda ser. A final de cuentas yo sólo ando por la vida haciendo cosas y el Selfishfly effect se encarga de lo demás... Jajajaja.

Across the Universe

2011-05-17T23:32:00.000-05:00

La Selfish no sabe qué pasa. Si el año pasado fue un desastre, este año es mmm... vertiginoso. Todo pasa, justo ahora está pasando de todo, jajaja, digamos que hasta me da susto. Y da susto porque las cosas llegan solas y con una precisión exacta, todo va como en secuencia, aunque con todo el asunto de lo agradable y desgradable derivando hacia el infinito. Además, es como los volantazos en el coche, como asomarse desde lo alto al vacío, como el yunque en la cabeza.

Claro, deben ser coincidencias porque nahh, el destino no existe (siempre que comienzo a creer en él, contemplo muestras de lo contrario), pero ahhhhh pa' coincidencias. Sin embargo, no puedo quejarme, creo que soy muy suertuda porque suelo encontrar sin buscar, lo cual me hace pensar que más bien las cosas, situaciones y personas me encuentran a mí. Siempre ha sido así, pero hay rachas que definitivamente resultan sorprendentes.

En fin, si a todo lo anterior le sumamos el hecho de que estoy en una de esas fases Paola M., pues, esto está muy loco :P

Zas, será un ataque del Selfishfly effect?

Jejeje, qué emoción!!! :)

Y jamás me va a alegrar que los casos de maravilloso ensueño se terminen, de hecho es algo muy frustrante, pero por alguna extraña razón no me siento mal.

Ahhh, canción para el post:

Moisés-Kahlo-Freud

2011-05-14T00:48:00.001-05:00

Frida Kahlo, Moisés

Estaban en un bar Moisés, Frida Kahlo y Sigmund Freud... Ahh, no, no, perdón, a lo que iba era a un post que debía con la explicación de la composición de esta pintura :)

En esta pintura es de 1945 y en ella Frida Kahlo representa el Moisés de Freud en imágenes por sugerencia de José Domingo Lavín. Al presentarla, Kahlo la explica de la siguiente manera:

Leí el libro una sola vez y comencé a pintar el cuadro con la primera impresión que me dejó. Después lo releí y debo confesar que encuentro el cuadro incompleto y bastante distinto a lo que debería ser la interpretación de lo que Freud analiza tan maravillosamente en su Moisés. Pero ahora ya ni modo de quitarle o ponerle, así es que diré lo que pinté tal cual está.

El tema en particular es sobre Moisés o el nacimiento del Héroe, pero generalicé a mi modo (un modo reteconfuso) los hechos o imágenes que me dejaron mayor impresión al leer el libro. Lo que quise expresar más intensa y claramente fue que la razón por la cual las gentes necesitan inventar o imaginarse héroes y dioses es el puro miedo. Miedo a la vida y miedo a la muerte.

Comencé pintando la figura de Moisés niño (Moisés en hebreo quiere decir aquel que fue sacado de las aguas, y en egipcio Moisés significa niño). Lo pinté como lo describen muchas leyendas, abandonado dentro de una canasta y flotando sobre las aguas de un río. Plásticamente traté de hacer que la canasta, cubierta por la piel de animal, recordara lo más posible a una matriz, pero según Freud la cesta es la matriz expuesta y el agua significa la fuente materna al dar a luz a una criatura. Para centralizar ese hecho pinté el feto humano en su última etapa dentro de la placenta. Las trompas, que parecen manos, se extienden hacia el mundo. A los lados del niño ya creado puse los elementos de creación, el huevo fecundado y la división celular.

Freud analiza en una forma muy clara, pero muy complicada para mi carácter, el importante hecho de que Moisés no fue judío y solamente pinté un chamaco que, en general, representara tanto a Moisés como a todos los que según la leyenda tuvieran ese principio, transformándose después en personajes importantes, guiadores de sus pueblos, es decir héroes, más abusados que los demás, por eso le puse el ojo avisor. En este caso se encuentran Sargón, Ciro, Rómulo, Paris, etcétera.

La otra conclusión interesantísima de Freud es que Moisés, no siendo judío, dio al pueblo escogido por él para ser guiado y salvado una religión, que tampoco era judía sino egipcia. Amenhotep IV revivió el culto al Sol tomando como raíces la antiquísima religión de Heliópolis. Por eso pinté al Sol como centro de todas las religiones, como primer dios y como creador y reproductor de la vida. Esta es la relación que tienen las tres figuras principales en el centro del cuadro.

Como Moisés ha habido y habrá gran cantidad de copetones transformadores de religiones y sociedades humanas. Se puede decir que ellos son una especie de mensajeros entre la gente que manejan y los dioses inventados por ellos, para poder manejarla. De estos dioses hay un resto; naturalmente no me cupieron todos y acomodé, de un lado y otro del Sol, a aquellos que, les guste o no, tienen relación directa con el Sol. A la derecha los de Occidente y a la izquierda los de Oriente. El toro alado asirio, Amón, Zeus, Osiris, Horus, Jehová, Apolo, la Luna, la Virgen María, la Divina Providencia, la Santísima Trinidad, Venus y... el diablo. A la izquierda: el relámpago, el rayo y la huella del relámpago, es decir, Hurakán, Kukulkán y Gukamatz; Tláloc, la magnífica Coatlicue, madre de todos los dioses, Quetzalcóatl, Tezcatlipoca, la Centéotl, el dios chino Dragón y el hindú Brahama. Me faltó un dios africano, pero no pude localizarlo; se le podría hacer un campito.

Habiendo pintado a los dioses que no cupieron en sus respectivos cielos, quise dividir el mundo celeste de la imaginación y la poesía del mundo terreno del miedo a la muerte, entonces pinté los esqueletos humano y animal que pueden verse. La tierra ahueca sus manos para protegerlos. entre la muerte y el grupo donde están los héroes no hay división ninguna, puesto que también mueren y la tierra los acoge generosamente y sin distinciones. Sobre la misma tierra, pintadas sus cabezas más grandes para distinguirlos del montón, están retratados los héroes (muy pocos de ellos, pero escogiditos), los transformadores de religiones, los inventores o creadores de éstas, los conquistadores, los rebeldes, es decir, los meros dientones. A la derecha (a esta figura debí darle más relevancia que a ninguna) se ve a Amenhotep, llamado Iknatón, joven faraón de la 18a. dinsatía egipcia (1370 a.C.) quien impuso a sus súbditos una religión contraria a la tradición, rebelde al politeísmo, estrictamente monoteísta, con raíces lejanas en el culto de On, la religión de Atón, es decir, del Sol. No solamente adoraban al Sol como ente material, sino como el creador y el conservador de todos los seres vivos, dentro y fuera de Egipto, cuya energía se manifestaba en sus rayos, adelantándose así a los más modernos conocimientos sobre el poder solar.

Después Moisés --según el análisis de Freud-- dio a su pueblo, adaptada, la misma religión de Iknatón, transformada un poco según los intereses y circunstancias de su tiempo. A esta conclusión llega Freud después de un minucioso estudio en el que descubre la relación íntima entre la religión de atón y la mosaica, ambas monoteístas. (Toda esta parte del libro no supe cómo transportarla a la plástica.)

Siguen Cristo, Zoroastro, Alejandro el Grande, César, Mahoma, Tamerlán, Napoleón y el infante extraviado: Hitler. A la izquierda la maravillosa Nefertiti, esposa de Iknatón. Me imagino que además de extraordinariamente bella debe haber sido una hacha perdida y colaboradora inteligentísima de su marido. Buda, Marx, Freud, Paracelso, Epicuro, Gengis Kan, Gandhi, Lenin y Stalin. El orden es gacho, pero los pinté según mis conocimientos históricos, que también lo son. Entre ellos y los del montón pinté un mar de sangre con el que significo la guerra. Y, por último, la poderosa y nunca bien ponderada masa humana, compuesta por toda clase de bichos: los guerreros, los pacíficos, los científicos y los ignorantes, los hacedores de monumentos, los rebeldes, los porta-banderas, los lleva-medallas, los habladores, los locos y los cuerdos, los alegres y los tristes, los sanos y los enfermos, los poetas y los tontos, y toda la demás raza que ustedes gusten que exista en esta poderosa bola. Nada más los de adelantito se ven un poco claros, los demás... con el ruido no se supo.

Del lado izquierdo, en prmer término, está el Hombre, el constructor, de cuatro colores (las cuatro razas). Del lado derecho, la Madre, la creadora, con el hijo en brazos. Detrás de ella está el Mono. Los dos árboles que forman un arco de triunfo son la vida nueva que retoña siempre del tronco de la vejez. En el centro, abajo, lo más importante para Freud y para muchos otros; el Amor, que está representado por la concha y el caracol, los dos sexos, a los que envuelven raíces siempre nuevas y vivas. Esto es todo lo que puedo decir de mi pintura.

*Hasta ahí la explicación de Kahlo... que conste que yo advertí que era extensa, pero muy interesante :P

It Is

2011-05-02T13:44:00.001-05:00

Alice laughed, "There's no use trying," she said, "one can't believe impossible things."

"I daresay you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half-an-hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass: And What Alice Found There

I had told about a concluding post about whatever-that-was for after the trip. I did write it, a letter, but as I also said, it might make no sense at all after the trip. That's just the case.

The thing is that that these uncertain times (the right here right now) surpass everything else. I would say I'm wrapped in joy. I didn't even imagine something like this could be possible, but he makes it possible every single day... which sounds quite impossible at the same time, hahaha.

Hey Katze, I don't know where we're going to, but this is freaking awesome :)

And it's real... surreal?

Staring

2011-04-28T03:45:00.000-05:00

Pablo Picasso, Woman by a Window

Ahora

En esta hora inocente

yo y la que fui nos sentamos

en el umbral de mi mirada.

Alejandra Pizarnik

*Contemplando la infinitud del yo qué sé...

High

2011-04-26T03:45:00.001-05:00

Image: Free Your Mind by CALISTO

Then, if they say you're a mindless idiot (like the song), you can say: no, I'm just free. What about you?

Then again, if they say you're not as good as they thought you were, you can say: I've never claimed to be the very best, that's the label you want me to have.

Thus when they say they're disappointed, well, you can give them a mirror and walk away.

I have to admit sometimes people make me scared, they just won't listen. I'm sick and tired of almost everything, but I'm not giving up, not this time, not because I'm supposed to do the right thing all the time. I am no wonder woman, I am me myself Paola.

The Selfish is as silent as a stone.

The Return of The Selfish

2011-04-15T04:15:00.002-05:00

Hace un rato mientras buscaba algo en el blog, llegué justo a abril del año pasado. Recordé que ya hace un año de muchas cosas, la mayoría de ellas malas, pero debo decir que otras pocas son muy buenas... ese es un consuelo porque aunque son una mínima parte, también es cierto que son de verdad notables. También pude ver que todo ha cambiado mucho en un año. Ahora es al revés, ¿huh? Si hace un año un día bueno tenía que pagarse con una racha indefinida de malestar nefasto, ahora los días malos en realidad no afectan tanto porque las cosas buenas los sobrepasan por mucho.

Aún me queda un post pendiente de publicación con respecto a tooooda la situación del 2010, pero no he logrado terminarlo. Creo que necesito tiempo para expresar con claridad mi intención. Digamos que es como fumar la pipa de la paz con quien ya no está. Tal vez eso pase después de Cuautla o tal vez para entonces ya no tenga caso siquiera.

En fin, el caso es que la Selfish ahora está en el mismo lugar, pero no en el mismo sitio.

Hace años alguien me cuestionó de tal forma que terminé reformulando lo que habría de ser mi vida profesional. Sin duda todos estos años le he agradecido desde lejos el haberme hecho ver que mi camino estaba en las letras. Sus argumentos fueron más que fuertes y admito que él fue la primera persona que me obligó a pensar con profundidad en cuanto a mis decisiones, en cuanto a quien soy y en cuanto a por qué hago las cosas. No fue labor de convencimiento, sino algo como la activación del pensamiento verdaderamente crítico en mí.

Ahhh, pero lo interesante en este momento es que últimamente he estado pensando mucho en otra idea que esa misma persona me dejó; algo que siempre me había hecho ruido, pero que nunca había logrado experimentar de forma evidente. Entre las regañizas y su desesperación de cada semana, él siempre se daba un tiempo para platicar como buen amigo. Además, cada 15 días tenía en mis manos un ejemplar de su periódico, y pude conocerlo como biólogo, sindicalista, activista social, cuentista y poeta. Así pude ver que Héctor era un dictador implacable, un académico en estado puro; sin embargo, Martín tenía una sensibilidad enorme, una gran preocupación por lo emocional, por todo eso que nos mueve a vivir. Entonces, podría decirse que Héctor me movió el piso en vocación y Martín en lo personal... pero hay un punto de intersección entre ambas personalidades.

Ambos, Héctor y Martin, solían utilizar una frase (que no les voy a contar) al hablar de bioquímica y de las relaciones personales. Yo podía entender esa frase cuando Héctor hablaba de fotosíntesis, de mitosis o del choque de protones, electrones y neutrones (jaja, bueno... más o menos :P), pero cuando hablaba de cuestiones personales, no, definitivamente no entendía. Martín se apasionaba mucho cuando hacía referencia a esa frase y a mí me encantaba el hecho de que no sólo era un decir, sino algo que sí aplicaba (todos podíamos verlo), pero, bueno, tal vez fuera por la diferencia de edades, tal vez porque a uno todavía le hacía falta volverse más loco, o yo qué sé, pero siempre quise saber qué era exactamente lo que podía suceder, lo que podía llevar a alguien a expresarse de la forma en que él lo hacía.

Alguna vez Martín mencionó que muchas personas nunca lograrían experimentar esa sensación, lo cual era una pena, pero la razón era algo como tibieza de espíritu. También decía que no hacía falta hacer muchas teorías al respecto, con lo cual estoy totalmente de acuerdo, porque las cosas sucederían cuando tuvieran que suceder y sólo nos daríamos cuenta cuando estuviéramos en el centro del huracán.

Claro, algunos de nosotros somos expertos en toparnos con oasis... pero entonces, si sabemos que entre más te aproximas al oasis éste comienza a desaparecer, ¿qué pasa cuando lo que aparenta ser otro oasis no desaparece? ¿Se convierte en cosa real? O en otros términos, con el ejemplo de Martín, si te arrojas hacia el huracán y éste te regresa a la superficie, ¿ya te salvaste o ya te perdiste?; pero entonces, si logras instalarte en el centro... ¿es lo mismo?, ¿la apacibilidad y el aislamiento del desastre son verdad o mera percepción subjetiva?

Yo no sé qué responder, en serio que no. Lo que sí sé es que ahora podría decirle a Martín que he comenzado a entender lo que es la inevitabilidad y que con una simple sonrisa, de frente, Héctor y yo podríamos entender, como buenos cómplices, por qué su mirada se iluminaba al hablar del hidrógeno y el oxígeno.

Whatever It Is

2011-04-02T14:39:00.002-06:00

I guess there are certain moments when we realise it is necessary to leave the world of appearances behind, when we need to transcend our own thoughts, when we feel the urgency to get rid of useless visions that only blur our perception of the world and of our inner selves. Anyway, the point is that what may look like an apple to you, may seem like the shaking Globe being the seed of a tree to me or the other way round. Perhaps it is neither, perhaps it is both. Perhaps we are just creating a big lie because the apple doesn't even exist. It could also be possible that the apparent simplicity of the apple conveys such a complexity that in the end we cease to exist. How many different essences can the apparent apple have? Who knows? After all, we don't know about universal truths, and your ideas may be fine for you, but they may not apply to my life. We can agree in some things, but in others we may be completely different, and no one is better than the other, we're just individuals... Well, for me there's only one exception: prejudices. If you've got a prejudice, just treasure it, delight in it, and (above all) keep it to yourself... Leave the others alone.

René Magritte, This Is Not an Apple

*Let's consider this. Don't you think it's possible that Magritte wants to deceive us? He wants us to doubt this is indeed an apple, but what if it is an apple and nothing but an apple??? Well, there's nothing wrong in trying to consider all possibilities though, because some of us just need to go deeper and deeper in order to survive. :D

De la Magia

2011-03-18T23:09:00.001-06:00

Creo en la práctica y en la filosofía de lo que hemos acordado en llamar magia... en la visión de la verdad en las profundidades de la mente cuando los ojos están cerrados; y creo en tres doctrinas que, según pienso yo, se han transmitido desde los primeros tiempos y han sido la base de casi todas las prácticas mágicas.

Estas doctrinas son:

(1) Que los límites de la mente siempre se encuentran en movimiento y que muchas mentes pueden fluir entre ellas, por así decirlo, y crear o revelar una mente única, una única energía.

(2) Que los límites de nuestros recuerdos son parte de una gran memoria, la memoria de la Naturaleza misma.

(3) Que esta gran mente y esta gran memoria pueden evocarse a través de símbolos...

William Butler Yeats, "Magic"

Selfish translation

Definitivo, esta es la mejor explicación a una de mis millones de dudas. Debe ser por eso que nos vamos encontrando lenta pero inevitablemente.

A Perfect Bit of Life

2011-03-14T16:25:00.001-06:00

The Flaming Lips, "In The Morning of the Magicians"

I was just listening to this song and suddenly remembered that weekend at nowhere two months ago. Emm, that weekend is one of those things I should have posted with no delay. A lot of great things happened there, but right now I'm thinking about dawning...

It was just perfect. The city at our feet (it was a marvellous view from that terrace), the cold wind on my face and flying my hair, the mixed smell of firewood and tobacco, the trees, the sweet slumber of the night before... And then, the lights of the city overcome by sunrise.

And it's great, I mean, the feeling of being completely apart, of not belongig anywhere, of standing in front of life. I was aware even of my own breathing, of silence and then of the music which accompanied the sunrise.

As far as I remember we talked about what lies beyond our sight, about the fear of not understanding immensity, about lies and liars, about how right our lives are because we follow our own impulses, not the ones dictated by someone else. We also told some things about surviving without losing ideals, that eagerness for knowledge and the experience of feelings and sensations unknown for the majority.

It's a shame we have no photographs of that moment... But I guess Rafa was right when he said you cannot forget the experience of being witness to a sunrise with someone.

Aghhh, I want to go back there, hahaha.

*Now that I was browsing my labels precisely to label this post I realized I can't stand this particular label I come across each time I'm in here... I think it's time to delete harmful and useless traces of waste. I'm almost ready for that.

Lost in color

2011-03-13T22:01:00.000-06:00

Joan Miró, Dancer

The Selfish is delighted and doesn't know exactly why. It's like this painting, you can say many things about it, but there's nothing for sure, there's not a single possible explanation to it... Perhaps there's nothing to explain.

Ahhh, I'm dancing to the beat of life... I love all of this, every second, every everything :)

A Selfish Sonnet

2011-02-24T14:02:00.001-06:00

Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenure of thy jealousy?
O no, thy love, though much, is not so great:
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake.
For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.

William Shakespeare, Sonnet 61

Sure, if the self struggles due to emotions, it is because it wants to. It is not someone else, it is ourselves.

...

The Selfish loves loving (haha), although she always seems to lean out over the cliff.

Neurotic Fit

2011-02-18T13:15:00.001-06:00

Drawing by Meritxell Ribas

Aghhh, get out of my mind right now!!!

Gosh, this is not fair :(
The worst of all is that I don't even feel like attempting anything, It's just that self-betrayal seems to be a bad habit of mine.

End of the neurotic fit... Well, more or less

The Selfish is speechless and mad at her dreams

--Edit--
By the way, a while ago I forgot saying thank you to the person who left a comment on the post below. Nobody clicks on the option to follow comment threads, that's why I say thank you right here :P

Flowing

2011-01-28T15:20:00.000-06:00

Last year I spent a lot of time thinking, trying to find out when enough really means enough. I could see no end to all that trouble. I wanted to get out of it, but it seemed impossible. Little by little I walked back towards myself and something changed. No, something shattered.

Today it's been six months... And now I understand what enough means. I keep no hopes and no expectations because I'm not interested anymore. I've run out of concern. I'm peaceful and he is not allowed to take that from me.

Six months ago:

I apologized until I got exhausted, although I didn't quite know why I should be so sorry.

I said I could wait forever. No, I'm not willing to do that.

I said I would not claim for any explanations. No, of course I deserve explanations.

I said I was regretful for having misundertood him. No, it was not a misunderstanding, he did what he did, he said what he said, he hurt me and knew it all the time. I wanted to believe I was wrong so I could protect him, make him feel fine, but didn't notice such behaviour was harmful for myself.

I lost control and took all the blame. Yes, it's true, I lost control, but the blame was not mine alone. He helped all the way to increase confusion and disaster, but pretended nothing was going on.

He sank me into sorrow, but I forced myself to think it was nobody's fault but my own if I was drowning. He led me to lose my pride, to feel I was not good enough, to think I was a bad person, but that's not true.

All this time I tried to imagine the future. I tried to picture the next time. I tried to believe we could still be friends someday... No, we can't. I disagree with those who follow the pattern of getting rid of people instead of solving problems. We people, are not trash or toys. I've realized I don't know how to hate people; I can hate certain things, certain attitudes, but not people, that's not for me. So, I don't hate him, but I don't want him near me, why should I? Then, we could say it's better he has not and certainly will not come back to me.

Today I'm writing about this because it's half a year and I'm doing fine. I can see the contrast. Six months ago I could not stop crying, but these days I haven't stop smiling and laughing. With my friends it was all about support, but now it's all about new projects, ways to improve. My life was miserable, I was all of a loser (or at least I seemed so), but now I've regained creative force, I can admit and laugh at the mistakes I made last year, I'm not blind anymore, and I've finally seen it as a fact: I spent my time trying to find complexity where there was nothing but plainness, and no, I can't understand plainness.

Ari told me something, "please, why don't you stop thinking life and trying to understand it... Just live more." Haha, I can't stop being who I am, he knows well I'm his analytic girl, but I guess I'm starting to let myself go, and I like this sensation of not being dependent of what somebody else expects from me, of not placing someboy else's feelings above my own. I'm just flowing :)

House of Mirrors

2011-01-12T17:29:00.000-06:00

"Paper Clips" by Travis

Well, it's like a curse.

We're two cowards of a kind. That's a hard thing to admit.

I don't want to be like him anymore.

--By the way, why the heck am I writing this?--

--Travis?--

--Twelve Memories?--

Lack of sleep, that's exactly what it is :S

401

2011-01-12T03:28:00.002-06:00

First post in the year. Well, not really, I'd rather say first published post in the year. According to Blogger, I've written 400 posts, though not all of them have (fortunately) been published. Wow, surely I go progressively insane as time goes by, huh?

I wish I wrote much better, and also wish I wrote interesting things, but, you see, it's just me.

So here I go:

2011 starts with the Selfish having a new job. Yeah, I'm a professional translator and it's time to put my skills to the test. I feel great because these people trust me and are really interested in what I can do. My boss says I can achieve a lot, that it's just a matter of time to take my potential out. Unfortunately, it hasn't been possible for me to start working there. As the year is just dawning, they still have things to arrange, so I'll have to wait a bit more. Hehehe, but the job is mine, no doubt about it. You know, it has taken a lot of effort to reach this point, and it's only the beginning of a long journey to the top. I'm scared, but I know I can do it, just wait and see.

I've been thinking a lot about last year and how much I've changed since then. I don't think I'm stronger, but, perhaps, I'm less naive. Yes, I miss him, and haven't spent a single day without missing him, but, of course, nothing can be done about it. And no, it's not a matter of pride, it's respect, just like that. I said I would not look for him, I said he was the one to decide, I said I would leave him alone. That's what I've carefully done all through this time. There are some factors that make it impossible to break all bonds, but I don't feel guilty because I'm being honest, and, in any case, I'm not looking after him anymore, this is none of his business, and I'm just trying to follow my heart wherever it may lead me.

Dahhh, if only I could be the same old me again. For a long time I didn't care that much about people, about personal life. Books and library, that was the rule. Academic writing, that was the priority. Men, well, they were the best amusement in the world... Only fun. Ahhh, but suddenly I went mad about one and only one, too bad for me... Because he was the wrong one.

And now what? I wonder once and again if I'm ready, if I'm completely fine, if I've got rid of it all or if I'm still under the influence. I don't really know. Above all, right now I'm confronted with the idea and don't know what to do. I don't want to feel anything, but I'm confused. Many things happening at the same time, mmm, too much for me.

Last year I wrote about the selfishfly effect (sorry if you missed those posts, hahaha) and right there emerged this question: and what if I did this thing and not the other? Well, now it's clear, at that time my choice brought nothing but more problems, while it seems that if I had chosen the other option, things could have started working fine for me. Tonight the situation is too similar to be true; the pieces of the game have changed places, but it's like a second chance. Then... Should I try?

I'm hesitant, and that's not good. Perhaps the problem with me is that I can't stand the thought of making the same mistake. I'm reluctant to let myself go, denying the possibility of misunderstanding things, almost rejecting what may be.

Ok, let's suppose there's a good reason for this to be happening --no, I don't know what to think and what to do.

Anyway, there's not much time to think about it. I have to make a decision once and for all. Uffff, sure, a sleepless night... I hope it's not followed by many other nights of the sort. Gosh, like I said before, I'm a walking irony.

De los finales

2010-12-18T22:47:00.001-06:00

Las frases breves son indispensables para finalizar los cuentos de emoción recóndita o contenida. Una de ellas es:

"Nunca volvieron a verse".

Puede ser más contenida aun:

"Sólo ella volvió el rostro".

Y cuando la amargura y un cierto desdén superior priman en el autor, cabe esta sencilla frase:

"Y así continuaron viviendo".

Otra frase de espíritu semejante a la anterior, aunque más cortante de estilo:

"Fue lo que hicieron".

Y ésta, por fin, que por demostrar gran dominio de sí e irónica suficiencia en el género, no recomendaría a los principiantes:

"El cuento concluye aquí. Lo demás, apenas si tiene importancia para los personajes".

Horacio Quiroga, Manual del perfecto cuentista

*Todos tenemos un cuento... Mentira... Tenemos muchos cuentos. ¿Cuál sería su forma de terminar con palabras alguno de sus cuentos, uno de esos que calan en serio?

Yo elijo el "Y así continuaron viviendo", aunque mi final favorito es "El cuento conluye aquí. Lo demás apenas si tiene importancia para los personajes".

Por cierto, ¿se dan cuenta de que el buen señor Quiroga no ofrece una posibilidad de final feliz del tipo "Y vivieron felices por siempre"? Jajajaja, la ficción se niega a la ingenuidad. Hey, tal vez sea como dijera el profesor Medrano, sensei que hoy descansa con las musas: Una historia feliz no tiene historia, ¿para qué molestarse en contarla?

Perception

2010-12-12T02:37:00.002-06:00

Vincent van Gogh, Starry Night

Just look up to the sky and maybe, if you're lucky enough, you will see something like this.

...I'm sorry if you cannot...

Standing

2010-12-10T13:11:00.000-06:00

Art by Paula Rosa

Well, well, well, it seems I will have to get used to my memories because that special place is about to become my working place. It's not that bad, I mean, as long as it makes me laugh (though I look like a psycho) I don't really care. Besides, it seems I won't have to be there every single day, so I think I can stand it. Even more, I was really interested in working right there, let's say it's a convenient distance, a seemingly safe place, it's pretty, and, of course, that's the job I wanted to get. Yes, at this moment there's nothing more important than translation, that's what I want to do.

I received great comments on my translation test. I didn't expect that. The thing is that it was such a weird text and I was so nervous that I thought I had made a real mess out of it. I spent all these days trying to remember the most difficult parts and I was sure of having translated them correctly, but...Mmm... If you know me well, then you know about my maniac self-critic behaviour, and yesssss, my even more maniac lack of self-confidence. Ahhh, but I have to say right now there's a good reason for that unseasiness. Two weeks ago I had a horrible experience that let me depressed and with the feeling that I was not good. No matter how hard people tried to convince me it was not my fault, I felt really bad. In fact, I knew it was not my fault, I knew I was much better than many of the others who may have applied for the job, and I knew the bad one there was not me, but these people who don't know their business and put me in complete disadvantage. However, I felt bad just the same. It was as if after having studied so hard, for so many years and despite all my effort, they came and told me, "sorry, you know nothing at all, ahh how comes you think you are a translator?" I felt like a fool and crumbled down. Anyway, I promised I would not stop and here I am doing things by myself.

I thought 2010 was an awful year meant only to be forgotten, but now I see... It's been all of a process of learning in many senses. True, the process is continuous and when it comes to someone like me, so eager for knowledge, it becomes overwhelming; however, 2010 is particularly significant because I've found ways to stand on my feet first if I want to fly. Ahhhh, but 2010 is not over yet, so let's wait and see what happens. I want surprises, good surprises!!

Flashback

2010-12-04T14:00:00.001-06:00

It was the same place, but circumstances were all too different. Well, after all work hasn't got much to do with pleasure. No, it was not only that, it was me alone right there. How was I to imagine things would be like this? At that time I would have thought it as a joke.

This is real life.

In my mind I recreated the whole scene. The last truly happy day. Then... Disaster. I just could not avoid laughing. I'm a walking irony.

It's curious, absolutely laughable. I didn't know before, but that place is meaningful to me. I remember every single detail and yet everything seems so distant. I cannot really tell if my laughter was due to the good memories, to my nervous state of mind, or to a strange sensation of impossibility.

Ha, I feel so stupid. Of course, I'm sitting here, writing about how special that place is, while for the other one it must be nothing at all.

Anyway, today I'm just going to sing the Kozmic Blues, duhhhhh

*I wonder if anyone apart from me noticed that last night we had a starry sky. A marvellous deep blue sky dotted with stars everywhere. A good moment to lose yourself in nothingness. Gosh, it was a great thing to see in this ever polluted city.

Test Fight

2010-11-23T19:10:00.000-06:00

The test begins now

I thought I was smart, I thought I was right

I thought it better not to fight

I thought there was a virtue in always being cool

So when it came time to fight

I thought I'll just step aside

And that the time would prove you wrong

And that you... Would be the fool

I don't know where the sun beams end

And the star lights begin

It's all a mystery

Oh to fight is to defend if it's not

Now then tell me when would be the time that you would stand up

And be a man

For to lose I could accept but to surrender

I just wept and regretted this moment oh that I...

I was the fool

I don't know where the sun beams end

And the star lights begin

It's all a mystery

And I don't know how a man decides what's right for his

Own life

It's all a mystery

Cause I'm a man not a boy and there are things

You can't avoid you have to face them

When you're not prepared to face them

If I could I would but you're with him now it'd do no good

I should have fought him but instead I let him...

I let him take it

I don't know where the sun beams end

And the star lights begin

It's all a mystery

And I don't know how a man decides what's right for his

Own life

It's all a mystery

The test is over now

"Test Fight" by The Flaming Lips

*I'm going for what I want and I won't stop. It's much more difficult than I thought, but it doesn't matter, it has to be mine.

Yeah, the test began today and the results made me feel fine. I learned from the mistakes I made last Friday. I guess today I was more self-confident because this is what I really want, it's neither the most comfortable position, nor the nearest place, but it's what I know how to do, it's my life, it's one of my dearest ideals.

Success still depends on many factors. Most of them are not in my hands, but I have to take advange of the one that indeed is in my hands. The test is going to be continued tomorrow. I have to give and do my best. I have to take the risk, which by the way, makes me nervous and anxious... But I know it, there's no other option.

Paola Paola Paola, just go and take it, it's yours. --Sorry, now I'm talking to the imaginary Paola, hahaha, I'm my own imaginary friend--

I need to keep calm and everything will be ok. Of course, I also have to defeat my Achilles heel... Well, as the say... Just do it!

**Emm, I'm listening to The Flaming Lips again. And I'm not crying!! Hahaha. Is it that I'm really letting him go now?

Vuelta en U o Todo es cuestión de tiempo

2010-11-11T02:36:00.000-06:00

Agua. Para nacer,

para informar al cuerpo de volumen,

para lograr que la mirada

desaparezca en una línea azul,

para que se nos justifiquen

los senos y la sed. Un reloj de agua

para quitarnos las noches anteriores.

Y viento, para que la luz pueda

sostenerse en el aire,

para que nuestra sombra cobre cuerpo,

para que al sumar un cuerpo en otro cuerpo

la noche crezca, la sombra se duplique.

Y tierra para plantar un libro,

para plantar las ramas donde se vaya el libro,

para plantar en ese libro la imagen de una niña

definitiva y amorosamente. Tierra

para las mesetas y la niña y las palabras.

Para que las frases se vuelvan y desenvuelvan.

Y fuego, luego un reloj de fuego

como el que consumió al amigo,

para volver ceniza sus palabras,

para ponerle franjas

amarillas y calientes al viento,

para que arda en las venas su memoria,

para que el agua tenga

con quien jugar a que inventa sonidos.

Luego un reloj de tiempo,

uno de esos normales,

para que a todos nos dé tiempo

de morir por completo.

Eduardo Casar, Dos que cinco relojes

*Confesión: esta Selfish ama a Eduardo Casar :P. Hey, hace tiempo platicaba con una amiga y llegamos a la conclusión de que un hombre tan inteligente y con un sentido del humor tan peculiar es simplemente maravilloso y difícil de encontrar... Ok, nadie más tiene por qué estar de acuerdo, jeje.

**Oops, ya ni modo, en un momento de ocio ¿o fue debilidad? ¿tal vez simple falta de mesura? volví a enlazar el blog. Afortunadamente, facebook no importó toooodo lo que escribí cuando, bueno, ya saben, así que si quieren ver todas mis andanzas y desvaríos (jaja, seee, como no) pues visiten el blog ni al caso, jajaja. Desafortunadamente, como había imaginado, los posts se amontonaron en la página de inicio y en mi muro (lo siento, cuatitud de facebook, de verdad lo siento). Ay, qué mal, el sistema incluyó posts que no me gustan y omitió algunos que no eran tan tan taaaaan malos... Vaya, creo que la idea de los Can't Go Away no estaba tan horrible, pero la maquinaria facebookera decidió dejarlos fuera.

True Relief

2010-10-29T23:15:00.000-05:00

Life is changing. Mmm, I can only say I'm fine, reconstructing what was left in little pieces and leaving him behind. It's been so hard that I can hardly believe it, but, you know, I've learnt from the difficult process. It took me three months (plus all the rest) to finally be able to say it

I don't care if you don't care.

It's a shame things ended up this way, but I take it, we are just ourselves. I honestly hope he's doing fine... I'll always wish the best for him, I cannot help it, he has a special place in my heart :D

****Friends friends friends, this new phase is greaaaaaaaat!!!!!!

-Image taken from Azumanga Daioh

The Empyrean

2010-10-26T13:48:00.001-05:00

DID you come back last night?

I try to dream you into materialisation but you don't appear.

I keep expecting you. Because dream has no place, time. The Empyrean--always liked that as my free-floating definition of Somenowhere--balloon without tether to earth. There is no past no present no future. All is occupied at once. Everyone is without boundaries of probability.

Nadine Gordimer, "Dreaming Of The Dead" in Beethoven Was One-Sixteenth Black And Other Stories

*Last night I had a dream of how it used to be. It's rather peculiar because I had been unable to remember the good things. It's just like the other night. In dreams I never shout, never ask for explanations. But I'm not mad at this peaceful and joyful dream. I miss all that. In any case, it makes me restless.

It's been almost three months. I'm sick, but this time it's not somatisation. Maybe that's where this dream came from. Last night I was feverish so it well could be that the dream was a delusion. Generally these dreams turn into nightmares, I'm used to that, but no, last night it was not a nightmare.

Hahaha, I'm so silly. I should give up dreaming because some things only happen at The Empyrean.

Palabrerías

2010-10-22T20:56:00.001-05:00

Así que acabé dejando de hablar. Lo que cuenta no son las palabras, sino los hechos; así que, bien mirado, ¿para qué hablar?

Bernhard Schlink, El lector

*Podríamos decir que este post complementa el anterior.

**Jaja, acabo de descubrir que tengo una especie de obsesión citando autores que nos cuentan acerca de palabras. Vaya, lo que uno comunica y lo que no comunica.

El acabose

2010-10-21T13:12:00.000-05:00

En el buzón de tiempo las palabras

se fraccionan en sílabas y llantos

otras se juntan como peces

que huyeron de su orilla

y algunas más se reconocen

en las navajas del silencio

Mario Benedetti, de "El acabose" en Buzón de tiempo

*Me pregunto si aún nos adivinamos o si ya llegamos al punto del desconocimiento. ¿Quién podría saberlo? Tal vez bastaría con hablar, con escribir. Pero yo sé cumplir mis promesas. ¿Y él? Bueno, él sabe lo que hace...

...Cierto, ya llegamos al punto del desconocimiento.

Grizzly

2010-10-19T20:00:00.000-05:00

My good girl grizzly cat died yesterday. You know, she was ran over by a car. We miss her a lot, have great memories of her and are sad sad sad. She was so cute, so smart... A special soul. Citripiox was right when he said "however terrible this is, we can say She lived as She wanted to." Yes, that's how it was with her, she was pure will.

I love you Keeley

Otoño 2

2010-10-16T00:00:00.000-05:00

Este u Oeste

La misma tristeza

viento de otoño

Matsuo Basho, Haiku de las cuatro estaciones

Hopeless

2010-10-13T02:45:00.002-05:00

One takes care not to go to heaven, nor to descend to hell. One believes neither in purgatory nor in purification. One can neither face nor forget reality, neither weep nor laugh. One squints, grins and gradually the heart freezes.

Walter Kaufmann, Tragedy And Philosophy

Otoño

2010-10-10T18:57:00.003-05:00

Image taken from El cadáver y el sofá by Tony Sandoval

El consuelo inútil

2010-10-08T02:36:00.000-05:00

En su delirio, y mientras escuchaba por enésima vez el sonido de los pasos sobre el suelo de madera, trataba de asir al fantasma o le gritaba, llamándole farsante, presumido, cobarde, desalmado: llenándolo de improperios.

Javier Marias, "La dimisión de Santiesteban" en Mientras ellas duermen

A Mute Presence

2010-10-02T19:42:00.005-05:00

I do not care to talk to you although
Your speech evokes a thousand sympathies,
And all my being's silent harmonies
Wake trembling into music. When you go
It is as if some sudden, dreadful blow
Had severed all the strings with savage ease.
No, do not talk; but let us rather seize
This intimate gift of silence which we know.
Others may guess your thoughts from what you say,
As storms are guessed from clouds where darkness broods.
To me the very essence of the day
Reveals its inner purpose and its moods;
As poplars feel the rain and then straightway
reverse their leaves and shimmer through the woods.

Amy Lowell, "Dreams"

Treason

2010-09-30T13:22:00.006-05:00

There's no way
I'm coming back to you
I've just got to say
That everything we did is through
You tried to undermine
The better ranges of my nature
But soon you're going to find
You should have started talking straighter

Now don't you worry
I won't put you down
I'm in no hurry, baby
To see you go to ground
Because it's true what they say
You know it's true what they say
You're only king for a day
I guess you're happy that way

Well there's no hope
For peace and reconciliation
You're quick to play your hand
But what you haven't learnt is patience
So look before you leap
To tell the world your coloured story
It's clear your talk is cheap
You'd do anything to get your glory

So spread your wings and fly
There is no doubt
You're so sorry inside you've got something to shout about
Because it's true what they say
You know it's true what they say
You're only king for a day
I guess you're happy that way

And there's no love
Ever to be lost between us
I guess this is because
The damage that you've done is so grievous
So I hang my head
To dwell on what might have been
But what you left instead
Is pieces of a broken dream

Now don't you worry
I won't put you down
I'm in no hurry babe
To see you go to ground
Because it's true what they say
You know it's true what they say
You're only king for a day
I guess you're happy that way

So spread your wings and fly
There is no doubt
You're so sorry inside you've got something to
Something to shout about

Because it's true what they say
You know it's true what they say
You're only king for a day
I guess you're happy that way

Don't you see that you're only king for a day
You must believe that...

Jamiroquai, "King For A Day"

*Y sí, yo creo que todos somos prescindibles... Lo único que alguien suele olvidar es que las personas no somos desechables. Después de dos meses puedo decir que me siento traicionada. Vaya, "la verdad, siempre la verdad". ¿No fue eso lo que se me pidió? ¿Y de qué sirvió? Grave error. Demonios, es triste no poder entender, quedarse con historias inconclusas, seguir extrañando y queriendo a pesar de todo.

Hoy esa sonrisa parece burlona. En fin, que cada quien se deleite en su felicidad o en su miseria. Somos buenos para eso, ¿no?

Thinking About You

2010-09-27T14:04:00.004-05:00

I've been thinking about you
So how can you sleep?
These people aren't your friends
They're paid to kiss your feet
They don't know what I know
And why should you care
When I'm not there?

Been thinking about you
And there's no rest
Should I still love you?
Still see you in bed?
But I'm playing with myself
What do you care
When I'm not there?

Selfish Update

2010-09-27T00:49:00.009-05:00

A while ago I was thinking this has been a weird year. Perhaps it's the weirdest year I can remember.

My shyness and hostility have reached their greatest level.
I've changed my mind thousands of times.
I've caused a lot of trouble.
I've been hurtful and have been hurt like never before.
The emotional side has been a real disaster.
I've met wonderful people, I've made great friends who have enriched my life beyond my own understanding... But, you know, I lost the one I used to love most... No, he got rid of me.
I've closed some interesting doors. Stupid me.
Pain has been sharp on me.
At times I've felt like I'm going mad.
I've betrayed myself once and again.
I'm not the same old me. He changed my whole life. Yes, I know, I shouldn't have let this happen. It's my fault. Yes, yes, yes, some may say I'm a cute thing, but I feel uncomfortable about this sensitivity, weakness and helplessness.
I've discovered the brightness of colours.
I've started enjoying little yet meaningful pleasures.
I've become an infinitely more introspective and thoughtful reader and writer.
I've had fruitful and rewarding professional experiences. I will always be grateful to those who have trusted me. Thanks for challenging me.
I finally own a mobile phone (dahh, what a surrender) :S
I have many plans, but I've given up to illusions.
Etc., etc.

I'm a whirl.
Always myself.

Dreams Again

2010-09-22T14:08:00.003-05:00

I never argue in dreams. I never ask for explanations. I wish I had prophetic dreams. No, of course real life cannot be like these dreams.

Nowhere

2010-09-20T20:57:00.004-05:00

The flash of her eyes had been succeeded by a dreamy and melancholy softness; they no longer gave the impression of looking at the objects around her; they appeared always to gaze beyond, and far beyond--you would have said out of this world.

Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Como el cielo de hoy

2010-09-17T14:05:00.006-05:00

Reconoció ese tono exacto de gris que sólo los miserables pueden distinguir en un cielo de lluvia; la delgada línea purulenta que separa las nubes, la sardónica luz lejanísima filtrada con ruindad.

Juan Carlos Onetti, El astillero

*Creo que terminó una etapa. Qué mal estuvo todo esto. Supongo que no se puede hacer nada. También supongo que cada quien hace lo mejor que puede para no detenerse. Era necesario encontrar un espacio entre tanta locura, serenarse, contenerse. Ya me siento segura otra vez, como antes. El miedo fue cosa nefasta, pero no pude evitarlo. Sí, queda algo que no se puede describir fácilmente. Llamémosle melancolía. No dejo de extrañar, pero ya no me aferro a la nada.

*Tal vez sea buen momento para volver a enlazar el blog con mi cuenta de facebook. Hay cosas que quiero compartir en ambos lugares y no tiene caso postear por separado. Espero que en este tiempo el servicio haya mejorado, jajaja. La cosa es que no sé si al enlazar las cuentas nuevamente mis posts se dupliquen o aparezcan amontonados (creo que esto último seguramente va a pasar). Me disculpo de una vez (jaja) y trataré de arreglarlo rápidamente para no atascar la página de inicio de la cuatitud de facebook.

¿Cómo?

2010-09-11T21:41:00.004-05:00

Yo no sé
¿Alguien sabe?

Hace un año todo era distinto. Podría haber presagiado la tormenta que venía, pero preferí ignorarla. Tal vez sólo tenía la esperanza de que no sucediera. Por eso el silencio es conveniente. Debí callar, no hay duda.

La lluvia era un buen pretexto. Ambos amábamos la lluvia, una de tantas cosas en común. Siempre quise observar la lluvia con él, tomar café mientras veíamos la lluvia caer, caminar en medio de un aguacero. La última vez que estuve con él, llovió. La tarde era fría, pero se sentía bien. Caminamos por la calle en un ambiente húmedo, con el cielo gris y gotitas aún cayendo de los árboles, con mis ganas de estar lejos, con sus ganas de no estar.

Ya no me gusta la lluvia. No me hace sentir bien. Me recuerda a él. Recordarlo duele mucho.

¿Cómo pasó?
¿Cómo dejarlo atrás?
¿Cómo sanar el alma?

Never

2010-09-05T16:12:00.004-05:00

Drawing by NeverSeenHerSmile on DeviantART

Memoria

2010-09-03T15:16:00.006-05:00

Hay películas que simplemente me gustan, algunas otras me hacen reflexionar o me maravillan... Hay pocas, muy pocas películas que me conmuevan y, hasta hoy, no había ninguna que me hiciera llorar.

Hace unos minutos terminé de ver Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Podría decir que estoy a punto de inundar la habitación. Diablos, no puedo dejar de llorar. ¿Saben algo? Es terrible encontrar el escenario de nuestros deseos.

Constantemente me he preguntado qué es lo correcto. Me he preguntado si debería devolver los libros, si debería tirar los dvds que no le di, si debería borrar una buena parte de este blog, todos sus mensajes, comentarios, números de teléfono. También me pregunto si él lo hizo. Luego pienso, ¿y qué se hace con los recuerdos, con las experiencias? Lo material puede guardarse o desecharse, pero lo demás, eso que no se puede ver pero puede sentirse... Eso no.

Muchas veces he desado que fuera uno más entre tanta gente que ha llegado a mi vida, que nunca nos hubiéramos acercado tanto, que ni siquiera lo hubiera conocido, pero el hecho es que no puedo cambiar lo que hemos vivido, ni para bien ni para mal. Toda esta tristeza que me provoca es la pruba de que él existe y de que todo lo que recuerdo pasó. Ojalá para mí fuera tan fácil olvidar como lo fue para él.

Ayer anduve sobre mis pasos y supe cuánto lo extraño. No sé cómo pude contenerme para no echarme a llorar como una tonta. Lo quiero mucho y sé que siempre va a ser así.

¿Y si alguien me ofreciera la oportunidad de borrarlo totalmente? Eso implicaría tantas cosas. Tal vez lo haría sin importar qué. La única razón para ello es que el vacío que dejó me hace sentir indefensa porque sé que sólo yo lo siento y que él nunca va a estar cerca otra vez. ¿Qué caso tiene conservar recuerdos de dos para uno solo? ¿Por qué destrozarse el alma por alguien a quien no le importas, para quien no significas nada?

Y luego, si nos conociéramos de nuevo... ¿Sería igual?

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;

Alexander Pope, from "Eloisa to Abelard"

2010-08-24T02:07:00.003-05:00

Last night I had a strange dream. I can only say that I woke up like 2 or 3 times and, as far as I can remember, the same dream continued on and on, but now I just don't know what it was about. Mmm, it's the first time in my whole life that something like this happens. The only thing I'm sure of is that I had a dream of him. After many hours being awake, the only thing that remains from that dream is his face. I don't know if that's a good or a bad sign. I haven't seen him, not even in pictures... It's almost been a month. But that image is clear in my mind, he's not faded yet.

It's weird because last Saturday I had a very good time and now... The dream. It's as if every time I thought I could start forgetting, the invisible something made it impossible. Well, it's not only that; to be honest, there are many things that make if difficult. I have lots of memories. Things I used to love listening to now turn out to be vomitive. Certain words and expressions make me sick. I don't love rain anymore. Even this blog sucks, it's the depiction of the hell I've been through for most of this year. I can't stand reading my own posts and that's the reason why I have hardly been here lately. Tonight, when I finally have the courage to log in, the first thing I find is that new automatic spam detection for comments, decide to check it out and there I am, redirected to a tab where I can read all the comments together. Horribly painful.

All of this is hurtful because he doesn't care, and right now I mean "he doesn't care" as he understands it.

Summarising: I've made a fool of myself.

Día luna... día pena

2010-08-07T22:24:00.009-05:00

Hoy día luna... día pena
hoy me levanto sin razón
hoy me levanto y no veo
por ahí alguna solución
arriba la luna ohea
arriba la luna ohea

--Pase lo que pase
sea lo que sea
próxima estación... ESPERANZA!!!--

Manu Chao, "Día luna...día pena"

Imposible negarlo, a veces la vida parece una verdadera porquería... tal vez lo sea. Pienso que es difícil encontrar equilibrio cuando despertar por la mañana es infernal, cuando hasta respirar duele y las lágrimas queman. La pérdida sigue siendo muy grande. La tristeza no desaparece. Y no puedo evitar preguntarme qué se sentirá lastimarme así. Todo me recuerda aquello en lo que no debo pensar. Pero sé lo que tengo que hacer con mi vida, sé adónde voy, sé que todo va a estar bien.

Voy hacia la próxima estación... ESPERANZA!!!

A Day

2010-08-04T14:33:00.004-05:00

I guess there must come a day when I stop counting time, a day when I don't keep on missing anymore, a day when tears become a thing of the past, a day when I don't feel forced to forget. There must come a day when I don't need to understand what's happening here.
But I wonder... What should I do until that day comes?
I'm not alone, I know. And I appreciate their support, but I'm shattered. I've had good days, but there are some others, like today, when I feel I can't go on.

La Creación y el fantasma de la Inspiración

2010-07-29T12:02:00.003-05:00

Anoche por fin vi René. Tuve que esperar un tiempo, pero ya, y valió la pena. Sabía cuál era la esencia del corto, pero verlo terminado fue gratificante... aunque también fue paralizante, abrumador.

La inspiración. La esterilidad artística. Yo pensaría que todos podemos reconocer la satisfacción o la frustración creativa, pero no es así. Según me dicen, para algunas personas el mensaje implícito en René no es tan visible. Para otros vaya que lo es, vaya que podemos reconocernos ahí.

El sueño... la inspiración personificada; cosas difíciles de encontrar. ¿O es que no dejamos que nos encuentren? ¿O es que suceden pocas veces en la vida y sólo a contadas personas?

Hay tantas cosas que decirle al mundo, formas tan diversas de expresión, deseos de materializar lo que yace en la mente; resulta tan difícil encontrar una forma. El proceso creativo no es mecánico, su pureza radica en la honestidad con que se lleva a cabo y es desgarrador. Desgarrador. La mezcla de notas, palabras, colores, imágenes, o cualquier material del que dependa la creación no es suficiente para creer que el arte es eso. La creación no es sólo concepto, necesita vida, necesita alma, necesita comunicar. Un poco del artista se va en cada obra, en cada intento.

¿Y qué hay de la satisfacción? El artista puede reír de angustia, puede reír de alivio, pero siempre estará tratando de alcanzar aquello que lo supera, tratará de ir más allá de él mismo, de sus fuerzas; la felicidad soporífera de la conformidad le es ajena, nunca podrá entenderla porque no la conoce, porque le ha sido negada esa capacidad.

*Estoy muy orgullosa de ustedes. Saben justo de dónde parten y adónde van.
*Citripiox, no hay más, eres un ser único.
*Pelucas se ve hermoso... en sus 5 segundos de fama :P
*Yo creo que Ray debería registrar pronto el corto para que todo mundo pueda verlo.

Monster

2010-07-28T13:09:00.003-05:00

If you've already created a monster, only two options are possible:

1. You take care of it, feed it and make it stronger day by day.

2. You destroy it.

Common People

2010-07-27T12:57:00.005-05:00

Pulp, "Common People"

*As soon as someone knew I was ill, he said, "Ahhhh, this is your song. " Hahaha, of course it isn't, hahahaha. No way!!! But it's a good song, I didn't even remeber it existed :D

*By the way, everything's fine. My throat has finally forgiven me. Yeah, I hate medicine... And my brain too :S

*The phone is working again. I swear I was not hidden or about to kill myself, haha, it was out of order. Gosh, the worst thing about it is that the problem was in front of me, it was so easy to fix, dahhhhh. No doubt about it, think of the less possible reasons first, the answer may be right there :)

A Goddess

2010-07-24T14:18:00.001-05:00

She cannot come all the way

She comes as far as water no further

She comes with the birth push
Into eyelashes into nipples the fingertips
She comes as far as blood and to the tips of hair
She comes to the fringe of voice
She stays
Even after life even among the bones

She comes singing she cannot manage an instrument
She comes too cold afraid of clothes
And too slow with eyes wincing frightened
When she looks into wheels

She comes sluttish she cannot keep house
Sha can just keep clean
She cannot count she cannot last

She comes dumb she cannot manage words
She brings petals in their nectar fruits in their plush
She brings a cloak of feathers an animal rainbow
She brings her favourite furs and these are her speeches

She has come amorous it is all she has come for

If there had been no hope she would not have come

And there would have been no crying in the city

(There would have been no city)

Ted Hughes, "Crow's Undersong" in Crow: From the Life and Songs of the Crow

*Ok, I have to accept it, Ted Hughes is great. Some people think this poem reduces womanhood to bits of life, but I think it is much deeper than that. This is not about limitations but about modes, ways of being. Without the goddess there's no city.

*I'm ill. The doctor calls it somatisation. At least I can speak again, but I'm rather dizzy. I hate medicine. Besides, I just woke up and I'm sleepy once again :S

*Ahhhh. People's behaviour in this neighbourhood is strange. I can't trust their kindness, some of them had never talked to me before. No, I didn't see Citripiox on t.v. Why should I? I see him every single day at home. Ohhh, and no, it doesn't mean we have any money. Gosh, it's disgusting.

Blablabla

2010-07-23T16:50:00.005-05:00

Blablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablablabla.

Después de más de una hora de contemplar la pared como idiota, todo es más claro. Me siento muy mal. Y es que puedo herirme a voluntad, ya no me importa, soy yo quien lo hace, es asunto mío. Pero que se ponga a prueba mi resistencia, sabiendo que es casi nula, eso sí me hace trizas. No es divertido, al menos no lo es para mí. No puedo, de verdad no puedo entender cuál fue la intención. No era necesario, ¿no era ya suficiente?

Vaya, me caí en el lodo. Ya ni modo. El aventón fue preciso y el golpe muy fuerte. Tal vez no sea tan malo, después de todo. Ser consciente del dolor provocado me hizo ver en qué me equivoqué.

The Wound

2010-07-23T01:50:00.005-05:00

Time goes by. This wound just doesn't heal. My blood seems inviting, so ingenue. My pulse is painful. Pathetic Damned Selfish. Can't you see it? You wounded yourself.

And it looks like I haven't had enough. But no, it's not hope. There's no hope.

What's In My Name?

2010-07-22T11:56:00.003-05:00

Paola

Yeah, that's my name.
What's so strange about it?
It sounds weird for me.
Are you angry or something?
No.
Then why do you call me like that?
It's a name.
I like the name.
I taste every letter.
The sound, its echo.
I'm afraid I could forget it if I don't say it.

Can't Go Away 4

2010-07-22T00:55:00.005-05:00

I'm sitting on a stone. I try not to think. A philosopher passes by. A few minutes later he's back.

We're sitting on a stone. He tells me I should not go on with my journey back. He asks if my reasons are important ones. I say yes. Not only important but also complicated ones. For him my reasons are plain... So plain that I look for an inexistent complication. He says I can't understand plainness. I'm far beyond that. He draws my pain in the air. He says I'm too much for it. He offers me a frozen flowers garland. He urges me to walk ahead, towards myself. I show him the red string. He can't see it. I explain I couldn't see it before, but now I can. He can't see it. He says I'm not tied to anything. I am. Am I? He says our world is a lonely place, a parallel space full of doors and holes and watches and knowledge and monsters and words and talking ideas... No room for ties.

He has to go, but is sure we'll meet again. His drawing is still intact. But so are my feelings. And the red string.

I'm sitting on a stone. Appalled.

*Music for the post:

*It may sound stupid, but this song makes me cry. I don't know why, but I can't help it.

Can't Go Away 3

2010-07-21T11:48:00.002-05:00

I'm sitting on a stone. I look up to the sky. There's an eagle flying high. The eagle lands next to me. He says he wants to give me wings so I can fly with him. But I don't want to fly... I want to walk. The agle says he will follow me, says he will not move from where I may stand. I know; the eagle will protect me. We've met before. His feathers embrace me and make me feel the comfort of sweet happiness. I had almost forgotten how happiness feels like.

But I'm sitting on a stone. Staring at my right wrist. I try to pull the knot that keeps me tied, but it's useless. Not even the strong claws of the eagle can set me free. I yell.

I walk in despair. It's so dark that I could easily lose my way. Should I really go back to that place where I have nothing? Why do I need to see those eyes that fill mine with tears? Why is it me alone with all of this?

*Music for the post :(

Can't Go Away 2

2010-07-20T11:54:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting on a stone. I notice I can keep on walking because the red string is so long and loose that it is even impossible to see the other end of it. I wonder what I am tied to. I still hear a voice telling me no.

I'm sitting on a stone. A painter comes and asks what I am doing here all alone. He tells me about dreams, about the future. He says he can paint my mind in a second. I say he can't... It's all black inside my skull. I turn around and take a few steps back. He says he will return, but I'm not paying attention to whatever else he's saying. I don't care about the painter.

I cry because now I realize I can go back. The red string will surely show me the way. I'm afraid. I don't really want to see what I am tied to.

I think about him.

I wonder if he is as sad as I am.

I miss him.

I need him.

I...

A fairy comes to me. She tells me the way back is easy. I only have to turn around and see my footprints, the wind has not erased them. Besides, there's the voice. She says the voice will let me know how near I am. I ask about the red string... The fairy disappears.

I'm sitting on a stone. Thinking.

I scream his name out until my throat hurts.

*Music for the post:

Can't Go Away

2010-07-19T11:30:00.004-05:00

I'm sitting on a stone. I want to walk, but there's something telling me no. I try not to listen, but as soon as I play the Deaf Selfish, it shouts at me. Then, I just can't ignore it. I hesitate. I take a step forward. But there's a noise behind me. Look at my right wrist. Is it a chain? No. It's seems like a red string.

I thought I was walking away... But... I was walking in circles. I can see the pattern left by the string.

Truly

2010-07-18T02:34:00.002-05:00

Well, you see, I'm just here. In spite of and because of.

Stop Thinking

2010-07-17T02:23:00.003-05:00

Right, I'd better get some sleep.

Lo que somos

2010-07-16T12:37:00.003-05:00

Releía viejos libros como si estuviera logrando unirme de verdad a los autores y el placer se mezclaba con la tristeza de sentirme ausente, tal vez para siempre, del mundo de verdad, del mundo que yo había conocido y donde en la adolescencia fui formando con días y noches mi personalidad. Tal vez cuando se insinuaba el amanecer ardiente, llegué hasta apretarme la mandíbula para no llorar. Pensaba que cada ciudad, cada etapa de la vida hacen un mundo.

Juan Carlos Onetti, Cuando ya no importe.

*Yo creo que esta es la forma en la que se mezclan el pasado y el presente. Muchos dicen que lo mejor es olvidarse del pasado, pero, ¿no es esa una tontería? El pasado es lo que nos hace ser, incluso si no logramos reconocer al viejo yo, algo de él existe en lo que somos en el presente... que de por sí es tan inconstante y escurridizo. El presente en sí no existe. Tal vez somos un collage de cicatrices y estampas del pasado... y con suficiente espacio para más.

Wishes

2010-07-15T13:27:00.003-05:00

I remember many things. I have a clear image of the day we became friends. How could I forget it. Before that day I used to feel you rejected me; after all I was an intruder in the boys group. You were so serious that I hardly dared talk to you. But that day at the museum everything was so easy, so different. I guess we forgot about the world around. We talked for hours and laughed like never before. That's how everything started. I discovered a sweet boy trying to hide shyness. I realized that the genius had a big smile that provided his eyes with an amazing brightness.

Later on I could see myself reflected in those eyes, I felt the warm of your hands, I got involved in your smile and knew how important you would be.

But I also remember the mistakes I made. I shouldn't have done what I did. I was wrong. You didn't deserve that. And I always knew it, but didn't know how to put a remedy to it... I loved you, yet I lost you. I wanted to tell everybody to shut up, I wanted to run to you, but it was too late. No matter how hard I tried to make you see I was sorry, you were not there anymore.

One day I found myself looking for you in everybody's faces, in every single place I was at. I needed to share happiness with you. I wanted you to know whenever I was sad. I was eager to hear you say everything would be all right. Most of all, I needed to know if you were doing fine, if your face showed the same calm as ever.

That's how I started writing letters for you. Selfish monologues meant to let you know everything, to tell you all those things I should have said face to face, to ask what I needed to know. I never sent them because I was afraid of two things. First, I was not sure if you lived there; second, I thought you would take me definitely out of your life as soon as you had news from me once again. I chose not to find out.

After several years I found you so suddenly that I couldn't believe it was true. I hesitated, but the moment of facing the past had come to me. I was really happy and I guess you were happy too. Of course we discovered how much we had changed, but it seemed good, it was so pleasant, challenging, and exciting!!

That night when we met for the first time in years, it was great. We got lost in a warm hug. I could have stayed like that forever. Only then I realized how much we had been missing each other. I felt like a little girl. You were much stronger, self-assured, outgoing, even a greater genius than before.

But, as it happens, we got into maddening trouble. It was painful. You took revenge, didn't you? I was broken. I don't know if you were proud, but it seemed so. You know the reason why I reacted like that, I explained everything. You said you were sorry... But something changed. We said many many many things and became friendly enemies.

Now it's been a year since then. We've kept a certain distance, a seemingly cold disdain. But you've said things that make me feel as special as I was in the past. I thought you had forgotten about tenderness, but no, maybe it was the situation we were going through. Your words touch me so because they enclose a meaning, who you are, what you think, how you feel... What you remember. I want you to know that last evening you turned my world upside down. What you said and how you immediately ran away... Ari, just like you, I wish things had been different in the past. And it's also good for me to know you exist. I confess I didn't imagine you thought so; it came as a surprise to me. I thought you couldn't care less. The fact that you've finally told me how you feel about us gives me a certain idea of what has been happening lately. Now I know you've just been cautious, that you haven't fogotten about tenderness, that what you're trying to to do is to avoid suffering from me again. I'm sorry for the way we've hurt each other. And I'm also sorry that right now we both are so vulnerable, brokenhearted and longing for someone else. Being who we are is not easy. Maybe some day we'll find a way... Or maybe not. But I can tell you that I'll be waiting for the eagle to appear in my window.

*I can't send this as a mail. I know how reluctant you are to be aware, and also know you hate giving indirect answers. Besides, there's no need to explain, everything's clear now. Then, if you want to find out, you'll be here reading this. We don't need many words anymore... What we know we know.

*I wish this weren't the worst moment for it to happen. I wish our lives were going through a better phase. I wish I didn't feel like I feel for someone who doesn't care. I wish we could get over those who make us so sad. I wish you could truly forget me. I wish we were able to really trust each other. Beyond all that, I wish we had the strength to fight... That we weren't so weary. But wishing is not enough, is it?

A Weakness Fit

2010-07-14T17:42:00.003-05:00

I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
Oh, god it feels like forever
But no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home sitting all alone inside your head

'Cause I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
And all I know is that it feels like forever
But no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

How do you feel? That is the question
But I forget.. you don't expect an easy answer
When something like a soul becomes
Initialized and folded up like paper dolls and little notes
You can't expect a bit of hope
So while you're outside looking in
Describing what you see
Remember what you're staring at is me

Cause I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
And all I know is that it feels like forever
When no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

How much is real? So much to question
An epidemic of the mannequins
Contaminating everything
When thought came from the heart
It never did right from the start
Just listen to the noises
(Null and void instead of voices)
Before you tell yourself
It's just a different scene
Remember it's just different from what you've seen

I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
And all I know is that it feels like forever
When no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

Cause I'm looking at you through the glass...
Don't know how much time has passed
And all I know is that it feels like forever
When no one ever tells you that forever
Feels like home, sitting all alone inside your head

And it's the stars
The stars
That shine for you
And it's the stars
The stars
That lie to you.. yeah-ah

Stone Sour, "Through Glass"

*Gosh, I'm really lucky, so lucky that it seems like a joke. I have to choose, hahahaha.
*The song... Well, I'm not that fine, not yet. There are days and there are moments in which I feel so weak. I need to defeat the inside. Yeah, it's strong, that's why it's so difficult. Distance is difficult to bear. Dahh, who cares???

Walking

2010-07-14T12:42:00.004-05:00

I'm going crazy. But I won't... Noooo, I won't.
It's time to keep my promises.

I'm going to walk until the need of turning around disappears. Yeah, I'm going to walk until I lose it all from sight. I'm going to walk until I become so exhausted that I can't remember anything but how things were before.

I'm walking towards myself... Because I want to know how it feels to be too close to myself again.

*Last night's dinner was great!!! Ahhh, a funny movie, video games, reading, an interesting conversation, stories and a thousand smiles. Ohhh, candles!!! Sushi, lemonade and chocolate... Delicious!!! Boy, you're awsome, thank you :D

A Good Day To Get Tired

2010-07-10T23:41:00.007-05:00

Ohhh, today was a long long day... Gosh, I wish it had been longer!!!!! Thanks life, at last you let me be there... mmm... but I missed someone. Well, we cannot have it all, but it was a good beginning, of course it was, and it's going to be even better, that's for sure.

I met new people and enjoyed watching a great soccer match with IR and Rafa. Yeah, German people are so kind and warm that I was delighted. Everything was just exciting!!!! We're on our way to make new friends and plans are becoming facts.

Delicious food and beer!! Ohh, those potatoes were awsome (haha, can I have some more, please :P) and the beer... well what should I say about it? Bottles and bottles of beer, hahaha, how comes we, the shy team, became so talkative!! It was a great celebration; we shouted, got nervous, said Goooooooaaaaaal!!!, sang, danced, met people, and stood in the rain until we got really wet (sorry for my hair, it is a mess).

I'm glad our weird way of organizing things was effective, hahaha.

Now, the effects of beer on our brains hahahaha (what a shame that IR wasn't there by then).
Rafa, that long talk was amazing!!! I had never had a conversation sitting in a storm, hahaha.
Chocolate cookies rule!!!!
Run Forrest run!!!!
Houston... we need more cigarettes, hahaha.
The story of the apple was really meaningful. Apples will never be the same for me from now on.
That kiss was so sweet. You're a gentleman :)

Ahhhh, some photos!!!

Yeah, we're happy!!!!

The Shy Team, hahaha.

We were dying to have a photograph with him!! Such a nice man with beautiful eyes who made us blush more than once :)

Woohoo!!!!

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*It's over. Perhaps I needed to do what I did in order to see an end. I guess when you realize you've given almost everything you can, that you've lost yourself, and that there's an unmovable something in-between... Then it's time to say enough. No anger, no nothing, just a plain enough. I've listened to all sorts of opinions and advice. Some of you, friends, think there's something important happening here, you think there's a lot of fear, you even say I've changed, and many other things. What I see is that I had never been so sad, that I've made lots of mistakes, that I am trapped, and that I can hardly recognize myself. If I cannot go backwards, at least I want to try to ignore pain. I'm not going to take a single step to go away, but I'm going to suppress these feelings that choke me from the moment I wake up to the horrible time to go to bed.

Definitely, this was a good day to get tired.

Far Away

2010-07-09T00:32:00.004-05:00

Yeah, it's true, I'm far away from myself... It's just what I wrote on the post below. Sometimes I wonder why we have the same thoughts, why we perceive things in such a similar manner; that's weird, Rafa, hahaha, but I like it :)

For me it was erasure, for you it was going away from what you once were. But it's the same, it's self-abandonment... And the conscience of abandoning yourself for someone else.

But then, there's that part I had not thought about, the other's closeness to themselves. Of course, it makes sense, the other is proud of your abandonment but is unwilling to give anything at all.

How was the complete statement? Or I am too far away from myself or you are too close to yourself... Yeah, I guess that's it.

Ironical, isn't it?

*I'm sad, it's a bittersweet taste.

Unstoppable Selfish Changes

2010-07-07T13:53:00.005-05:00

I know, I said I didn't want to be Brueghel's Icarus anymore... I failed. I also said I wanted to sail on the ship... last night the boarding ticket flew away.

And I came back to the blog with a certain amount of self-confidence... I've lost it, but I cannot disappear once again because that would be absurd. I guess I've had too much with these weeks unpublished posts on Selfishenough.

Last Friday, Dave asked something I didn't quite know how to answer. I thought a bit about something that should come out like in an impulse, something I shouldn't be thinking about at all. I wasn't even sure if I was answering the thing in itself. I hesitated. And the doubt, I guess, was linked to time, to discomfort, to the need of being the one I used to know once again. However, in the answer I treasoned myself.

Today I have the unthought answer and it's even worse because it all explains itself, I don't need to find the words... It's as PF would say... "I think that if you touched me a spring would burst out like on some musty old couch."

The other day a friend of mine and I were talking about fears. We agreed that one of the worst fears was the possibility of erasing oneself. I guess that's why I fought to keep everything to myself only. I knew that acceptance was not good. Yes, that's the point, I've erased myself. And yes, that was the greatest fear, but it doesn't matter right now because it's done. That's bad, don't you think? I was aware of the fear but didn't notice it was actually happening. It was not a metamorphosis, it was erasure. Oh, yes, I can redraw myself again, but... What about the shades? I don't think I can reflect an amazing shine because I've never known how to do it. If anybody's seen a spark coming out from this Selfish, sure, it's been a natural happening, I don't know how to fake or force who I am.

*Friends are surprised of who I am now... or are they surprised of who I am not now??? Mmm, I'm getting used to the "you (whatever) what?!"

*I'm still blushing :S

*A message from the Selfish to the Selfish:

Just face it... once and for all :S

*Gosh, life is playing tricks on me... Grrr, stupid life, why won't you let me be there so I can make a final decision!!

A Selfish Landscape

2010-07-06T01:09:00.004-05:00

About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking

dully along;

How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond in the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.

In Brueghel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the plowman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to get to and sailed calmly on.

W. H. Auden, "Musée des Beaux Arts"

Unnoticed to the world around... Self-conscious of falling.

*I'm back.
*Emmm, I don't want to be the Icarus of the painting anymore. Instead, I want to be a passenger sailing on the ship.

The Adams' Family Meeting

2010-06-27T03:18:00.005-05:00

Wahh, I'm tired tired tired tiiiiired... The good part is that we're done with preparations. The bad part is that we're lacking the cooking thing.

My hands ache; mum says that it is due to the princess life I hold :S

So, why am I awake? Gosh, in the afternoon I couldn't help it, I took a pill and then just fell asleep for about two hours.

This family meeting thing is stressful, it's not that bad when it's organized by someone else, but when it comes to us being the hosts it turns into a nightmare, everything has to be perfect.

*Citripiox: I hate you because you're the one who's going to run away. Working is the best excuse. I wish the fans would turn into zombies and eat your brain :P

Gosh, what am I going to do? Too many people in here, everybody asking things. I guess I'll need some magical charisma potion to endure it hahaha.

Wahh, sure, my jaw is going to hurt by this time tomorrow. I'll be the smiling and kind Selfish. Mmm, I just don't fit in, so maybe it is not that they're strange, it's just that I'm weird.

A list of about 30 people: kids (they love me although I reject them all the time), teenagers (dahh, they share their intense lives with me because I understand... haha, I'm as immature as them, or so it seems), aunts and uncles (they praise me a lot, it's hateful when they compare me to their sons and daughters), cousins (nothing to do with me, no common talk... I'll fake some interest).

*Hey, tonight we have a full moon!!!

Canción de la noche

2010-06-25T01:25:00.003-05:00

Emmm, debo aceptarlo, esta noche ando particularmente cursi y no me impoooooorta. Sí, la verdad es que me sentí especial. Mmm, ¿te acordarás de esta canción? La hemos oído muchas veces... ahhh, y también me la has cantado muchas veces... la canción perfecta para la amiga princesa :)

*Después de tanto tiempo lo dijiste otra vez!!! Y estabas sobrio!!! Jajajaja.
*Aunque me enoje y diga muchas cosas feas sabes que nunca me voy a ir porque el cariño es demasiado. Así es la amistad :P

I thought you meant... but you thought I meant...

2010-06-21T10:58:00.007-05:00

Wordtrap by ksaito57 on Flickr

I've started to feel even my best intentions are worthless. Why does it always have to be this way? I just can't understand. I'm being misunderstood. Or is it that I'm misunderstanding? It seems that every time I try to make things better just end up complicating it all. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

Fortune Cookie?

2010-06-19T03:12:00.005-05:00

Photo by tamaradulva on Flickr

Depressing, isn't it? Considering my luck, I could get a similar one at any time. I mean, just in order to confirm what's indeed a fact.

El post frenético

2010-06-16T01:23:00.006-05:00

Canción de la noche

How each of us decides
I've never been sure
The part we play
The way we are
How each of us denies any other way in the world

Why each of us must choose
I've never understood
One special friend
One true love
Why each of us must lose everyone else in the world

However unsure
However unwise
Day after day play out our lives
However confused
Pretending to know to the end

This isn't true, this isn't right
This isn't love, this isn't life, this isn't real
This is a lie

How each of us believes
I've never really known
In heaven unseen and hell unknown
How each of us dreams to understand anything at all

*Como pueden notar, continué escuchando estas cosas. Soy incorregible. Gosh, pero mi media está lleno de música así... Ayy, y al menos no es Coldplay, eso sí estaría para inundar la casa o causar un corto circuito. Ahh, y al menos no puse la canción que me ocasionó el conflicto existencial de en la tarde.

----------

Imagen del día

Mariana Palova, Incapaz de ser libre

*Necedad al puro estilo Selfish

----------

Cita del día

And then again, it was like being told: see how little anything matters. All that anyone has is the life that keeps him going, and see how easily that can be patted out. See how appallingly little life is.
He yawned and grinned, clasping his hands between his knees. What a mess he had been making, when it was all really so easy: he could hardly believe it. He had been a proper fool, worrying and bothering himself. But he'd show them.

Philip Larkin, Jill

*Es curioso, John Kemp me hace pensar mucho en mí misma y en alguien que se parece mucho a mí.

----------

¿Cuántas posibilidades hay de toparse dos veces con un mustang negro con rayas anaranjadas en un lapso de 3 horas en lugares distintos y que no sea el mismo coche?

*Esto realmente me sucedió hoy.

----------

Mmm, seee, quiero un oso perezoso, hahaha.

----------

Ok, soy bien patética, pero ya expliqué en los mails de respuesta lo que me puso así. En realidad ni era algo preocupante, pero entiendo que conmigo ya ni se sabe. Wow, me impresiona darme cuenta de que hay personas que están al pendiente de mí. Claro, ya lo sabía, pero cuando se hacen presentes así, inmediatamente, es algo sorpendente... no logro entender muy bien por qué me quieren si puedo llegar a ser un verdadero fastidio. Y es que no es intencional, en serio, mis ideas se tropiezan y parece que estoy enloqueciendo. De cualquier forma, gracias por cuidarme, los quiero mucho. Ya saben que también estoy ahí para lo que se necesite.

Yo creo que estoy bien, pero mis lapsus brutus ya se han vuelto costumbre. Son inevitables. Este post en sí mismo es un lapsus btutus "freneticus" hahaha. ¿Tristeza crónica? No lo sé. Lo único que sé es que soy yo, que yo sola me ocasiono todo. Hey, soy tan pero tan Selfish, que puedo hundirme y ahogarme sola... Mmm, después de todo, eso es lo que he estado haciendo desde hace meses. Lo que en realidad me molesta es hacerme promesas que a la mera hora no puedo cumplirme. Juro que cuando digo que ando bien feliz es porque lo estoy; no es convicción o voluntad, es que así es. Pero cuando vuelvo al mismo punto, algo pasa y no puedo conservar ni las promesas que me había hecho ni la serenidad (juju, que palabra tan solemne).

Estaba pensando que tal vez este sería un buen momento para empezar a pintar. Ya saben que siempre he querido aprender y ahorita tengo la histeria necesaria. Dahh, lástima que los materiales sean tan caros (mmm, eso sin contar las clases con mi pintor conocido favorito) como para desperdiciar todo en trazos mal hechos (ñaaaa, ¡¡qué tacaña!!). Igual y la opción sería dibujo... mmm, no es mala idea.

Dahhh

2010-06-15T13:44:00.002-05:00

Gosh, I don't know if getting used to someone's absence is a good or a bad sign.

Mmm, I guess it's a bad sign. Above all because, you know,

Ayyyy, ya me frustré, olvídenlo.

In Limbo

2010-06-13T00:09:00.005-05:00

I was getting angry with life... again. It's just that I can't believe the things that happen around. I think it's unfair. However, I'd better keep calm if I want to be helpful.

Gosh, on the post below I was asking myself if AG remembered. Well, today we were talking about that and, dahhh, of course she remembers everything and more!!! And then she claimed the right to see me cry, but no, that's not a good idea.

Mmm, you see, AG asked what was happening with me. She said I used to be the bad, careless, insensitive, and evil Selfish girl, only defeated by a grey-eyed shadow and a black-eyed clown... and almost defeated by a nerd-book. But, according to her (and some others, by the way) I'm not the same, and nothing compares to this. Of course she understands that I go mad, because she's seen most of the worst episodes of my madness; but she finds it hard to believe that I stay where I am, because, yes, I had never done that. I had always thought that once you reached the dead end, it was time to go for the next thing. With the cases I mentioned above there was a certain range of difficulty. It took me years (and you know I mean many years) to forget the grey-eyed shadow; I only needed to hear his name to break down. I used to think I would never fall in love again. The black-eyed clown was nothing, but was extremely meaningful at the same time. I was flying high, so high that when I crashed against the floor it was damned painful. The nerd-book, well, I guess that was a whim, an unfinished story from the past, a challenge to see who was the most dangerous and hurtful, yeah, it was revenge. The case is that, no matter how bad things were, I was always willing to start new things, to have fun. Now, I just can't. I tried and it was useless (gosh, I'm hearing laughters at my bad attempt with Mr Tilapia). Why is it so? It's frustrating. What do I do with what I feel for him? Ahhh, noo, ladies and gentlemen, this is not a Selfish behaviour!! I'm considering my feelings only because I'm the only one feeling something here.

What should I do? The girls told me off last 30th. IR was about to kick me when I told her I had missed the trip... Well, she even looked up to the sky when I said I didn't really care. They said something like "What the hell are you waiting for? That's what you need!! Grrr, you're wrong."Mmm, it seems I still have an opportunity to do the right thing. The possibility came out of nothing, I didn't expect it. Hahaha, I've just fallen into a histerical mood. Hahahaha. Gosh, hahaha. Doors, hahaha. I don't know. I mean, it could be perfect, but then again, as long as I'm unable to forget, I won't be able to move on. Gosh, I want to be the bad Selfish again.

Ahhh, prudence's back to me (more or less), so I'm going to keep what was the main subject of the post below for me alone. I guess there are some things about which you cannot write anymore, they need to be talked about... Mmm, as my ability to speak is not good, then maybe I'll keep silence anyhow.

Ahhh, a weekend song... Wahhhhh

Suddenly

2010-06-10T22:14:00.005-05:00

Gosh, I'm falling asleezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
...
Ahhh, I'm back to life. Coffee, ohh, powerful and delicious cure from sleep!!

Mmm, I don't know what to write. Well, yes, I know, but prudence tells me not to. Dahh, the hell with prudence.

Yesterday I read something. It's clear, I shouldn't

--------

This post was interrupted two hours ago, and it was because of something very important. Now I just want to say that my friends are the greatest treasure I could dream of, that I admire them, and that I learn a lot from them.

AG: I still remember the day we met for the very first time. I don't know how I would have survived that first school day; I was so insecure and shy. The place was too big, crowded and unfamiliar. It was the first time I wasn't wearing a uniform at school, my makeup was terrible, and I couldn't even find my building and classroom, but you appeared there and from that moment on (maybe it was written in the stars) we became friends. Not even the problems that once seemed so difficult to be solved could break this friendship. We've shared so many things. I wonder if you remember the basket match in the mud, the maddening walk in the rain, the super ice-creams at the mall, the song we used to sing for the handsome tall boy, the homeworks and parties at Joel's house (can you remember the sight from that window?), the full-moon-evenings with the boys, the rainy evenings at the S building hidden below the stairs, the confessions, the secrets, the adventures, the laughter, the mockery, the arguments, the pain, and an endless list of marvels in our lives. In spite of the periods of silence, we've grown up together. We are two girls with different personalities and levels of maturity (of course, you are the mature one, I'm, hehe, the irremediably immature one), but it doesn't matter, we're still great friends. People may come and go, but we're here having fun, trusting, being honest, being concerned.

I'm proud of you, I'm proud of the way you're dealing with what's happening righ now. I'm thankful because you've chosen me to be the only one who knows. I want the best for you. We're going to be in this world until we become the old botox ladies, hahaha (nahhh, botox noooo!!). Girl, I admire your intelligence, your decisions, and the fearless way in which you face life. That's what my friends are made of!!!

*How about that crying thing!!! Surprising, isn't it? Hahaha, if you couldn't believe it, no one else could. It's not in my stoic nature, but I've become the intense Selfish. I told you, this was THE crisis, but you didn't want to believe me. Mmm, yeah, I can almost hear you say once again --Ayyy amiga, ahora sí estás grave-- hahaha. Hey, that's what you're lacking, you've never seen me cry :P

*Let's go and bother our favourite victim... just in order to keep a tradition and cheer ourselves up. Besides he is in love and I can't stand his mundane happiness, hahaha.

A Visual Message From The Voice

2010-06-09T12:07:00.008-05:00

Fiona Shaw, My Discomfort Is Evident But I Am Unsure Of The Cause (Prelude To An Unfinished Narrative)

*I think that's the depiction of how I felt some days ago.
I had always kept the strongest emotions in control. The other day I realized I was a helpless Selfish. Well, that was another new thing, something I had never experienced.

The Solipsist Selfish II

2010-06-08T03:25:00.004-05:00

Gosh, I should be sleeping, but it's not easy. Dahh, this means I'm going to sleep for only 4 hours. That's a crime!! Mmm, it's not that bad.

You see, I'm a solipsist, that poem is for me, it's proven. Well, last Saturday (or was it Sunday?), when I posted it, I knew, but now I'm just sure, no doubt about it. Of course, it's not that I love being a solipsist, but at least it's good being aware of it.

Good night :)

Guilty

2010-06-07T00:50:00.005-05:00

Once again, I don't know what I did, but it must be something really wrong. I feel guilty.

Another forbidden passage:
"I listen to the wind flowing out, cracking my head;
it takes bits of my soul away.
If tonight death is sweetly slow...
Life, take me, deliver me into my tragic fate."
Remember, nobody's read this.

*I wonder why the things that fill me with a strange joy or delight are just the same that can make so sad... Well, I didn't even know they could make me cry. Ohhh, here's one I already knew of

The Solipsist Selfish

2010-06-06T01:11:00.004-05:00

I?
I walk alone;
The midnight street
Spins itself from under my feet;
When my eyes shut
These dreaming houses all snuff out,
Through a whim of mine
Over gables the moon's celestial onion
Hangs high.

I
Make houses shrink
And trees diminish
By going far; my look's leash
Dangles the puppet-people
Who, unaware how they dwindle,
Laugh, kiss, get drunk,
Nor guess that if I choose to blink
They die.

I
when in good humor,
Give grass its green
Blazon sky blue, and endow the sun
With gold;
Yet, in my wintriest moods, I hold
Absolute power
To boycott color and forbid any flower
To be.

I
Know you appear
Vivid at my side,
Denying you sprang out of my head,
Claiming you feel
Love fiery enough to prove flesh real,
Though it's quite clear
All your beauty, all your wit, is a gift, my dear,
From me.

Sylvia Plath, "Soliloquy of the Solipsist"

*I'm not feeling any better. In fact, I'm feeling even worse because everything is my fault. My mind's been playing the solipsist. That's it. I'm not sure, but I think my pain hurts you and I hate myself for that. Everything's so confusing that I do the wrong things and can't speak though I want to. I don't want to write, I need to talk to you.

*I can't remember what I dreamt last night, but when I woke up my pillow was on the floor. First time in life.

A Procrastinating Selfish Machine

2010-06-05T01:21:00.002-05:00

As I'm... No, the right thing to say is that as I don't know where, who or what I am right now, I'm going to procrastinate.

Well, not so much, I'm intrigued.

I've said many times that people have the impression that there's a slight or strong difference of attitude when I speak and when I write (it depends on the person, I've received very contrasting opinions on that. I go from being an ice cube to a set of fireworks). A while ago I wrote something about that. The point was that my friend had told me it was impossible for us not to be what we write. Now I also remember she had said that people generally believed they would be face to face with a different person, that is, they would never think that your personality is not a fake one intended to impress, show off, be polite, etc., when you write in places such as messenger.

And it was precisely this afternoon that something intriguing happened. I had just published the post below when I logged in on messenger and started a conversation with somebody. Ahh, this is important: he could not have read that post because he would have complained of something I wrote there that has to do with him. Besides, he was about to die because ot the tons of work he had. Haha, anyway, I guess he doesn't read the blog, and just in case he does: don't get mad, it was the truth :P. Well, now I go on (remember, I'm procrastinating). Emmm, ahhh yes, despite the cloud of misery over my head, I was having a cheerful write (hey, I want write to become a noun just as talk) with him. When he wrote goodbye, typed (haha, this is the equivalent of told) this: "it's always great to write (remember, this means talk) with you, it's as if I were actually listening to your voice". Gosh, it's the most marvellous compliment I've ever received!!! Don't you think so? Aghh, I don't care, it seems so to me. Ohh, yes, I'm weird, weird, weird. I mean, he may call the guarra-girl an angel, the bitchy girl innocently sexy (!!!!), and there's a long list (hahaha, yessss, I've seen hi5), but he wrote that thing for me without knowing about my dilemmas on writing and speaking... Dahh, don't you get it? That's the intriguing part. Besides, yeah, I have to say he made an effort to find the appropriate words... The angel or sexy thing is so plain that it becomes vulgar when isolated in that way; with me he had to put his brain to work in order to find more than one or two words to express something nice.

Then, this made me think about my horrible voice. I wouldn't have imagined someone remembered it. And there's also the fact that I had never related what I write to the sound of my voice. Yes, I love reading aloud. Sometimes I read my own writing aloud and find that it's just the same tone, but never think somebody is going to picture me saying this and that. I couldn't help thinking about our times together, and yes, he always listens carefully to me, my laughter makes him laugh too, and everything flows naturally. Our conversations on messenger are just like that; the intentions of our words are clear all the time.

Of course this leads me to a higher level (yeah, I'm still procrastinating)... How do you remember people? For me, sounds are rather difficult to remember. Well, the musicians around have trained my ear, so I know which song is which by hearing the first chords and sometimes I even surprise them by recognizing different songs all in one (haha), or if there's a mistake, or if the mix is strange, or if there's an unpleasant change, etc., etc. But the sounds of people are not that easy. Ohh, I can remember laughters, yes, that's the sound I remember. At times, somebody's laugher reminds me of someone else's and I'm restless until I find out why. Wow, laughters of all kinds, yes people, I remember your laughters!! But, mmm, I remember images, yes, that's my speciality. Faces, specific moments in life, and all that... yeah, I remember in slow motion :P.

Ok, I know this is too much, but I just noticed there's something about remembrance I didn't post. Ouch, it's one of the gaps on this blog. That post isn't finished and it's in Spanish (gosh, I'm a mess!!!), but see:

May, 15th 2010
El otro día (usted disculpe, es que ya perdí la noción del tiempo y por eso no recuerdo cuándo), andaba yo divagando aquí acerca de la gente que nos cambia la vida y preguntándome qué pasa con uno mismo, si alguna persona llega a considerar que le cambiamos la vida de algún modo, el que sea. Yo decía que es muy difícil saberlo y que, en todo caso, hasta da miedo averiguar. Lo sé, esa parece una cuestión egoísta, pero lo que me planteaba no tenía que ver con cuánta importancia me doy a mí misma, sino con la importancia que yo confiero a otras personas. ¿Huh?

Y es que ya saben cómo soy, siempre es la misma escena:

X: Oye, ¿te acuerdas de Tal?
Paola: Ahh, pero claro que sí.
X: Oye, ¿por qué no le hablas? Igual y quiere venir.
Paola: No, seguramente ni se acuerda de mí.
X: ¡Estás loca! Siempre que me l@ encuentro me pregunta por ti y te manda saludos.
Paola: Nahhh, no es cierto, esa es una mentiral vil.
X: Claro que no, siempre se acuerda de cuando fuimos aquí, cuando hicimos esto, cuando dijiste aquello.
Paola: Ok, si tú lo dices.
X: Ayyy, me caes mal.

Conservo mucho de toda la gente a la que he conocido, pero por algún extraño motivo siempre creo que paso desapercibida... y aunque digan lo contrario, yo pienso que así es. Supongo que es por la maldita timidez que me hace quedarme tranquilita. Y no me sabe mal. A mí me parece más importante recordar que ser recordada. Lo curioso es que puedo olvidar mucho, pero hay momentos específicos que se graban y no hay forma de borrarlos. Por ejemplo, pude llegar a olvidar los rasgos de alguien, pero no el aroma de su perfume (¿al de hombre se le llama colonia?) y, a su vez, eso me remite a momentos como alguna plática seria o a un abrazo de consuelo. Ahora que estoy con eso de los perfumes, recuerdo que mi amiga Diana y yo por casualidad usábamos el mismo perfume, pero el aroma era muy distinto. En mí, era muy dulce, pero en ella era una mezcla entre tabaco y papel; las copias que me prestaba y hasta el coche de su novio olían igual, era el aroma Diana. Bueno, en realidad ese tipo de cosas no son tan importantes, pero son un indicador de que yo siempre me acuerdo de los pequeños detalles que casi nadie nota.

How about that? You see, that's how I remember. And this is how I procrastinate.

*Tonight I'm afraid of going to bed. I don't want to dream.

sí pero no o no pero sí... da exactamente igual

2010-06-04T14:27:00.008-05:00

No puedo, no puedo no, puedo, no puedo... Así no se puede, caramba.

Estoy que me lleva el demonio porque nada me sabe bien, porque me siento fatal y porque sí.

Después de todo creo que no me conozco tan bien como siempre pensé. No sabía que las palabras de otros podían vulnerarme de esta forma. Sí, acepto que en ocasiones he perdido seguridad por lo que me dicen (recordemos el episodio del café cliché, lo nice y los odiosos intelectuales), pero eso es momentáneo y sólo necesito pensar claramente para poder responder con inteligencia y deshacerme del malestar junto con el causante del mismo. Lo que me sucede ahora es totalmente distinto. AB casí acertó; pero no es que me cambie la personalidad, es que me hace trizas, así nomás. Ahhh, pero claro, el problema aquí es que nadie me está hablando a mí, yo estoy loca. Maldición, no soy una condenada piedra... Aunque, viéndolo bien, tampoco es su culpa que yo no sea una piedra, cada quien piensa y hace lo que quiere... Lo cual incluye el pensar en quien se quiere, y eso a su vez es una cubetada de agua helada. En todo caso, es cierta falta de sensibilidad de parte del otro o de supersensibilidad de parte mía. ¿Quién sabe?

Wahhh, este post resulta absolutamente contradictorio si se le compara con el anterior. Yo me entiendo sola. Aparte de que hay cosas que definitivamente me estoy guardando y que no pienso contar ni siquiera en pláticas personales, este blog ha comenzado a llenarse de huecos, o sea, escribo mucho más de lo que publico. Es más, creo que lo poco que he publicado últimamente ha sido mero impulso porque si lo hubiera meditado más, tal vez esos posts estarían amontonados con todos los demás drafts. Aclaro que la única razón para no publicar es la prudencia, el no querer hundirme más al hacer saber que tengo muy pocas fuerzas, pero a veces mi ánimo gana y da click en publish post.

Para la cuatitud del facebook: Hace un rato hice dos cosas.
Cosa 1: Borré el post anterior. Eso no fue auto-censura, fue simplemente que pensé que alguien debía estar retorciéndose de la risa y ya quedamos en que, aunque me sienta como me siento, no soy un mono cilindrero.
Cosa 2: Decidí dejar de importar mis posts como notas de facebook. Además del problema con el tiempo de espera, justo en este momento no estoy como para exponerme ahí. Todos los que quieran seguir el blog (telenovela malísima de las 4 pm.) son bienvenidos, pero aquí, este es el lugar más apropiado. Y es que NL me dijo algo bien cierto hace unos días. La gente como nosotras, para quienes la escritura posee un significado crucial, no podemos evitar mostrarnos al escribir. Somos nuestras palabras, somos el tren de pensamiento que las originó. El caso es que en el face sólamente dejé el link al blog y las notas que ya se habían publicado. Quizá después vuelva a enlazar las cuentas, cuando pueda escribir palabras felices. Ahh, seee, todo mundo tiene acceso a mi felicidad, pero no a mi miseria. Creo que ahora me voy a sentir más libre para escribir.

La conclusión de este post es que si alguien quería hacerme perder el equilibrio y hacerme llorar... bien, así fue. Si nadie pretendía lo que acabo de mencionar, bueno, yo lo hice sola, me las arreglo bastante bien para eso.

Estoy confundida y estúpidamente triste. Me pregunto si la única persona injusta aquí soy yo. ¿Cómo saberlo?

Hoy voy a incluir algo que tengo prohibido:
"And what difference does it make if in my agony I remember my past, that life and something that never happened? If there is nothing anymore, I can only try to hold on to the wind."
---Nobody's read this, ok?

*Pregunta final, sólo para inquietar sus mentes porque ya es bien sabido que raramente me contestan aquí
¿Cómo se puede amar tanto a alguien que no te ama? Dahhh, tanto tiempo invertido en la escuela para terminar preguntándome estupideces :(

El post de se acabó

2010-06-03T02:42:00.005-05:00

Wow, varios días sin escribir y siento como si hubiera abandonado el blog por meses, como antes. En fin, todo marcha bien. He descubierto que no es cuestión de tiempo sino de decepción. Intenté esforzarme, pero fue inútil. Ahora ya no quiero esforzarme, no hay un buen motivo para hacerlo. Creo que todo comenzó a mejorar desde el momento en que decidí dejar el asunto definitivamente por la paz. Ni modo, así es la vida.

Aunque por un segundo llegué a pensar que estaba imaginando cosas, ahora me doy cuenta de que tenía razón. Y ya ni siquiera me hace falta confirmarlo, lo sé y punto. Si quisiera mentiras, yo misma las diría, pero no es el caso... Entonces, gracias, pero no, gracias.

Conclusión: no más tormentitas ni extrañas calmas. Se acabó.

*Ahhh, el 30 fue simplemente genial!!
*Ya verán, el 4 de julio todo va a estar mucho mejor.
*Para Anna: Te quiero mucho mucho mucho amiga. Ahhhh!!! Voy a ser tía!!!! Y seguro que va a ser una niña. Seeee!!!!
*Para Dave: Amigo, te quiero un buen!!! Gracias por tu tiempo, por leerme y opinar. Wahhh, soy muy afortunada por tener amigos así.
*Para Nancy: Sigo en lo dicho, somos demasiado buenas para merecer estupideces así. Al diablo con todo!! Lo mejor será tener los ojos bien abiertos por si el pandroso y el formal andan por ahí, jajajaja. Hey, eres una gran amiga y ya sabes que te quiero un montononón :)
*Ohhhh, esta noche quiero casi a todo mundo. Estoy muy contenta :)

The Everything And Nothing Post

2010-05-28T17:03:00.005-05:00

Mmm, I haven't written much these days. It's not a lack of things to say but, no, I don't know why. At times I'm at ease, then I go mad, then I get furious, then I'm happy, and then I go down again, but I still have some patience. Besides, my Disappearing-Air-Bag-Friend (haha) has been a great help.

Ahhhh, this week's been wonderful, and I can't wait for Sunday. Ahh, Sunday, 30th, at last!!!! As I said, mmm, I lost, so you can mock me as you please. It's a shame there will be no beer (a fortune for my pocket :P), but, yeah, I'm thinking about tequila... One of these days we should make a tequila party. Coffee is more than ok, but you've already been warned, I'm going to be an Altered Selfish!!! The good part of it is that I know I'm not going to be the only one, hahaha. Hey, I wanted to see an animated film, but surely no one else wants, buhhhhh. Anybody else who would like to see an animated film at the Cineteca with me? Gosh, I can't believe people don't like animated films :(. The book, don't forget the book... Ok, it's my fault if IR didn't read it, it's all of a case of a Zombie Selfish, you know.

The English lessons? Woohoo, we worked really hard this week. Sequences of past forms, we needed that, but we're still missing the revision of passive voice... I hope the homework wasn't dificult. I guess it's time to switch from Spanish into English, muahaha, I'm the evil teacher :P. My new student is doing great as well. The other day I wrote that I hoped we would get along well, now I tell you that we're becoming good good friends, or at least that's the sensation I've got. Well, the thing is that I'm still a little bit nervous because she knows a lot and works really fast, so I'll have to prepare lots of material in advance.

My books, wahhh, I'm about to finish Jill and I've discovered that this book is overwhelming, though I didn't think so the first time I read it; maybe it is due to circumstances. As soon as I 'm done with it I'll start with Octavio Paz, yeahhh, wait and see what I want to do (I don't care if it causes a little war, opinions are individual). I'm also planning to start with Larkin again, but this is going to be a careful and close reading of his Collected Poems, so it may take me some time to read it complete. Shakespeare and the Power of Performance has good things, although I've hardly touched it. I think I'll take this evening for it.

*Dahh, how could I miss the opportunity of becoming a vampire!!! Hahaha. Yes, I still remember that and get angry with time and my sense of responsibility :P

*Yeah, the truth is that I'm hurt. I insist, I don't know what I did, but the fact that I'm being ignored let's me know I'd better go to hell before falling into pieces. I wish I knew what he thinks and what I did this time. I guess he knows we both can be extremely cruel; the difference lies in the fact that I've chosen silence as a way of appeasing things, but he seems to have taken cruelty as a rule with me. Gosh, this passive-agressiveness is awful.

Ay, ya sé, ya sé, esto es una simpleza, pero lo confieso, me gusta la rolita.
--Canción para día nublado--

Tired But Wide Awake

2010-05-26T00:08:00.005-05:00

Dead Tired by katiejo911 on deviantART

*I've hardly slept about three hours between Monday and this early Wednesday. Among many other things... First I gave a lesson on Monday, then I talked on the phone for hours, then I was busy preparing an exam (oh, I did a lot of other things during the weekend and then I lost some material), then I was nervous, then I had to find where to print my great exam (oh, yes, I'm proud of my work), then I had to meet my new student, then I was afraid of having written a dreadful exam, then the bank, then the pets, then a meal, then preparing tomorrow's class, then grading the exam, then the disappearing doc (I love you doc), then reading, then my thoughts, then messenger, mails and facebook(haha), then the shadow of suspicion. Oh, I was forgetting about blogger!! Yeah, I like being this tired.

*Let me tell you, my new student is a great and really smart girl. I'm glad I'm working with her. This is going to be a rewarding experience. I wish I met people like her every day.

*Thanks to those of you who wished me luck. Realizing there are some people who care makes me lucky enough.

*Gosh, gosh, gosh, I missed the opportunity of being bitten and turned into a vampire. Damned lack of time!! The tempation along with the tempter were almost irresistible, but duty is always first. My bitten neck could have appeared in a short film, but no. Hahaha, I guess Citripiox was glad that I was in a hurry because he would've had to help with the recording of the scene, and he didn't seem comfortable with the idea of his friend biting me. Hahaha, of course I'm just talking about art for art's sake.

Sunday Morning

2010-05-24T00:51:00.006-05:00

Last night, for the first time in months, I just stood up and said, "hey, I want to sleep, good night." Ohh, it wasn't "I've got a headache, I'm going to bed", "I need some rest", "I feel miserably miserable, I'm going to sleep", or "maybe if I sleep for a while, I'll stop thinking and then will wake up a marvellous new person". Noooo, last night I just wanted to sleep because I felt like going to sleep. No sorrow, no pain, no anger. And let me tell you, I woke up and I was still the same person, but I started smiling, and I didn't think of him. And this is important because it was incredible, I just woke up very early (come on, it was Sunday, haha) and not feeling even more tired than when I went to bed... I was really fine. Well, some minutes later I remembered what I had been dreaming, and it's strange, I don't understand why, precisely now, I dreamt with him.

The dream was more or less like this: As usual, I can't remember the context of the dream scene, but I know for sure we were sitting at a table drinking coffee in a white room all covered with thin whitish curtains, the shiny sun gave an amazing atmoshpere to the room, it was like those times when the sunlight seems beige or honey-golden and you can even see the minute dust particles flowing in the air. Well, inside the room there was nothing else but the table, chairs and three people. It was him, me and someone else (no, I just can recall the third one was a man, but I have no idea who he was). I can't say what we were talking about --yeah, I should have written the dream when I woke up-- the thing is that the third one was completely apart while we, (he and I) were dangerously close to each other while we spoke... Dahh, I don't understand why it seemed a natural way to keep a conversation when it is not that natural, above all with someone you want to forget!! Then, we were walking down an unknown street; there were many people who suddenly disappeared and it was only the two of us against the wind, it was blowing so hard that we could hardly keep on walking. that's the last thing I remember... I've got the feeling that it was at that moment that I woke up because if not I wouldn't remember the dream at all, or so I guess.

Haha, after this little digression, I'm back to the thing. No, I haven't forgotten... I'm sure I need more than plain time to forget because this is beyond my will, but I can't stay in the same place forever. Last Saturday-Sunday night I received a surprise that took me back to earth.

AGC, your very first word brought back all the memories. Nobody else has ever called me like that, it's only you, so sweet. I'm glad I took the risk, and that it was you. I'm also glad you dared. As far as I remember, the shy one here is me, not you :P. Hey doc, do you remember the rides?

Now you're here like an airbag!!! You're a great friend and I'll never let you go again :)

*Woohoo, the heavy rain this evening was comforting beyond belief.

Friday Prudent Selfish

2010-05-22T00:31:00.005-05:00

As I promised myself on the post below, I was the Friday Prudent Selfish. I must confess I wrote a couple of posts that were not published, which led me to a state of unrest, but I survived (haha). What I dislike about this prudence thing is that I've got the feeling that it is self-censure, don't you think?

I say, things couldn't get worse. Then, why am I forcing myself to be this quiet? I don't know... Yes, you're allowed to laugh, hahaha. I don't remember when, but I quoted Eduardo Galeano's statement: "writing was my way of hitting and embracing." Well, right now I don't want to embrace anyone, but some people say I can be devastating whenever I mean to hit someone. Besides, there's also the possibility of hitting myself on the way. As I don't have any trace of energy left, I'm unwilling to find out.

*Ohhh, the door apologized for the trashy woman. It was a big misunderstanding.

*Great news!! I've got a new student!! I'm rather nervous because I don't really know her. You know, when the class is only for one person, you have to interact with her/him all the time, so it's necessary that the said person feels comfortable with the teacher. I hope we get along very well :). We're going to start next Tuesday; wish me luck, friends. Now I remember I have to prepare an exam :P

*Wahhh, the 30th is near. Maybe, when that day comes, I'll be a Peaceful Selfish. Hey, I should become a hippie. I miss you, friends :)

Ommmm

2010-05-21T14:35:00.003-05:00

¿Ser prudente?
¿Gritar enfurecida?
¿Cuál será la mejor opción?

Ok, por lo que resta del día voy a aplicar la prudencia.

Grrrrr

2010-05-21T01:27:00.003-05:00

What did I do? I don't know. In fact I did nothing at all. Yes, I've done many things, but not right now.
Yeah, I'm a paranoid and my head is in a whirl, you know.
I'm angry because I can't understand.
I'm also angry with myself because I can't find a way to move on.
Besides, people are angry because I've become permanently hostile.
Yeah, I closed the doors because I'm stupidly blind. Big mistake.
--Note: mere coincidence, as I'm writing this doors thing, I've just received a notification... Damn, this is not a competition, if she wants to eat the man alive it's fine, I don't care. This has made me even angrier. Hahaha, no, it's not possible, this trashy woman is filling my facebook with brutish words.
--Another note: I'm about to start a written quarrel. I'll be back to the post in a minute... I'm going to destroy somebody.
--I guess she's drugged or something, her vulgarity arouses pity. I never thought I'd have to delete someone's comments or publications (or even block a facebook contact), but this is coarse; this woman doesn't know the meaning of education. She has no style. By the way, I won the quarrel with a clear, indisputable statement.
Well, this strange episode doesn't mean I'm wrong when I say closing doors was a mistake. Well, in fact, I will never know. It's the Selfishfly Effect.
Te case is that I'm angry... Someone told me the right sensation is uncertainty mixed with stress :(
-------------------------

*I miss my granddad. You know, he taught me how to read and write, so when I was 4 years old I could accompany my drawings with lovely messages for mum. He used to play the harmonica, above all when there was a power cut, and then he would make up games with the light of the candles and make silhouettes on the wall with his hands. He was a a conservative gentleman, a wonderful baker, an avid reader, and a music lover. I guess he would be proud of Citripiox and me. Everybody thinks I've never cared, but that's not true. It's just that I keep that feeling for me; I don't want to stain my memories sharing them with relatives who believe that crying for five minutes (at most) makes your sorrow truer and deeper. If they hate knowing that we were his most cherished kids, that's their problem, not mine.

A Matter Of Pride Vs. Truth

2010-05-19T00:33:00.007-05:00

Sometimes we force ourselves to believe we are strong

--Then we crumble down

We say we won't cry anymore

--When the truth is that we are drowning in tears

We make others think it doesn't matter

--But it's killing from the inside

In the end, who cares?

--Nobody, of course

*Wednesday is going to be a difficult day.
*Now I can imagine how May, 30th is going to be. We should have made a bet to see who would be the most miserable of us, hahaha-wahhh-hahaha-wahhh.
*I'm weary, so tonight I can't say if I'm ok or not.
*Hey, do you remember my post on Buckethead? Seriously, if you have a friend like him... Please, here I am, waiting for him :P

Realization

2010-05-18T11:16:00.006-05:00

His first phase of sheer puzzlement had gone. What possessed him now was a shuddering rage at himself and at all the rest of them; he plunged into the steaming interior filled with the hysterical determination of a man who in sheer fury probes an agonizing wound.
[...]
He looked along the alcoves, each with its light, and loneliness began to displace his rage. Loneliness made any emotion he suffered impotent. No feeling he had could possibly affect anyone else.

Philip Larkin, Jill

Last week I started rereading this novel. The first time was three years ago and I loved it, but not enjoyed it so much. Now it's different, I've been laughing a lot, but some parts of it have also made me very sad. Maybe you have to belong to the literary realm to understand how it feels. Oh, no, it's not an arrogant fit, what I mean is that a novel like this touches the fragility and complexity of the literary beings, the things that many people out there dislike or don't understand.

The quotation... This is Larkin at his best. Cutting, cruel, painfully introspective. His diction in this passage leaves me lying on the floor because in spite of the sarcastic and humorous moments all along the novel, right here you just can't laugh. I guess Larkin knew all too well that this part was not meant to be laughed at; the realization of your being a stupid fool cannot be pleasant, or expressed in kind, self-indulgent terms. I don't know about your experience, but I think Larkin plays with my reason and feelings.

I've never liked rereading my favourite books because I'm afraid the texts won't cause the same impression on me as the first time. Now I'm doing it and what I can say is that this book is going to stay carved into my mind.

I am torn and it's myself alone, like John Kempt. And, just as happens with him, my feelings cannot affect anyone else.

Have you ever felt like this?

*I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm ok.
*I decided to leave Sylvia Plath for a better and less weak mood of mine. Mmm, I thought reading Larkin would help, but no, I didn't remember this sadness. I only remembered the amusing parts.
*Gosh, between Saturday and Monday I started five posts that were left as drafts. I couldn't finish most of them, and the ones I managed to finish, well, you see, I didn't dare publish. It was not a matter of time, it was something else, but I don't have a name for it.

Sleep

2010-05-15T00:54:00.007-05:00

Gosh, last night I just couldn't sleep, so today I was a zombie. I don't know why, but I felt as if I had not slept in days. Then I fell asleep in the worst moment this afternoon. Hahaha, I'm sorry. I wanted to see the movie, but that sofa was so comfortable that I couldn't help it :P

*Really, I'm ok. I'm not going backwards. It's just that sometimes the unexpected goes beyond my understanding. But, anyway, I'm not telling what happened. That's why I didn't answer the phone.

Björk, "It's Oh So Quiet"

This is what the strange calm followed by surprise sounds like :)

Surprise!

2010-05-14T01:50:00.006-05:00

Overwhemed Wahhh Overwhelmed Wahhh Overwhelmed Wahhh Overwhelmed Wahhh Overwhelmed Wahhh
...
Overwhelmed Wahhh Overwhelmed Wahhh Overwhelmed Wahhh
...
Right, and the strange calm? Where is it now? Yeah, it's in the dustbin. It was becoming a good friend of mine. I'm all entangled :S

This afternoon I was singing "No Surprises", and thought, "yeah, this song is rather, no, not true, it's very sad, but, at the same time, it's great because it's the ideal thing. Most of times I find myself in that case, wanting to be confined to the silence and quietness of not expecting anything at all." And it's for real, the Silly Selfish didn't saw the greatest surprise coming. Well, I suppose the song is not a coincidence, I guess it was a sort of prayer, you know, self-persuasion.

Gosh, of course I'm not telling what happened because now I remember someone saying something like "only a comment and your personality changed" plus the bad words and all the rest.

What the hell, I don't care what anybody thinks, sorry, I don't care. Rules don't apply to me. If you're not him, get out of here right now because you surely won't like what I have to tell.

-----------------------------

*I didn't know when I wrote yesterday, but I lied. Yes, it hurts a lot, but it's more hurtful when you seem unwilling to have me near.

*I hate that you don't hate me.

*You can't imagine, and I can't tell you eye to eye, how much joy your presence and your smile bring to my life. I missed you a lot and thought I would keep on missing you for a long time though you were here. I was wrong. This evening's surprise was awesome... Although it hurried the strange calm away (haha).

*Larkin, Ohhh, Larkin. Thanks, you know me well :)

*It's confusing, I've been reluctant, too proud, Selfish and skeptical to tell, but the truth is that I, well, no, I'm still to proud to tell.

*I wanted to say much more than what I said, but I couldn't explain what you wanted to know.

*I'm ashamed that you've been reading everything. I really wanted to know why you've been here, but, you see, I was so nervous that I'm glad at least I didn't forget how to breathe.

*I had never spent so much time looking at a table. Yeah, that's ridiculous on me!!

*I want to be a really good friend as you are. It's very difficult, but I'm trying hard.

***I know I'm going to regret this post tomorrow.

Post de notitas

2010-05-13T00:30:00.004-05:00

Seee, esta noche tengo sólo notitas ni al caso :P

*Hoy juraba que había tenido un déjà vu, pero no, después recordé que eso sí lo había vivido, jajaja... eso qué, jaja.

*A propósito, ya empecé a repasar mis lecciones porque quiero escribirte en francés, Vik-Totor.

*Me urge comprar una plancha para el cabello o de lo contrario no volveré a salir a la calle. He dicho.

*Ahora que lo recuerdo, dahhh, nadie ha hecho fiesta, voy a hacer berrinche :(

*Y así fue. Taquicardia, nervios alterados, dedos adormecidos, pulso de maraquero y dolor de cabeza. La Selfish estaba intoxicada. Clenbuterol. Maldita sea. Al menos a mi madre nunca le volverán a dar ganas de comer hígado de res (ya sé y opino lo mismo, yuck). Ya estoy bien, sólo fueron 48 horas.

*Ok, cuando dije nervios alterados me refería a más de lo normal :)

*¿Quieren un arranque de honestidad? Hey, aquí lo tienen, pues sí, estoy nerviosa (y no es por el mugre clenbuterol, jaja) y qué y qué... Aunque tal vez no hay un buen motivo para estarlo, digo, la extraña calma puede continuar de aquí hasta siempre, ¿no? Todo depende de taaaantas cosas. De cualquier modo, yo estoy dispuesta a quedarme en el frasco transparente, a ver quién se atreve a intentar sacarme de ahí.

*Hay gente que nos cambia la vida y yo me pregunto, ¿una misma le habrá cambiado la vida a alguien? Puede ser, pero da miedo averiguarlo, ¿no? --reflexión ni al caso--

*Amigos, los quiero y me da gusto saber que todo comienza a solucionarse. Sé que falta mucho camino, pero lo más difícil ya pasó, estoy segura de eso. Fighting!!!

The Transparent Bottle

2010-05-12T11:20:00.002-05:00

Ladies and gentlemen, the Selfish Euglena is in the transparent bottle. I mean, the ideal medium is the fountain, but the transparent bottle is the most resembling habitat because there's natural light. Of course the fountain is better because there are other species with whom you can make either friends or enemies. In the transparent bottle there are only more Euglenas, but, believe me, it's more secure because there is no opportunity of contamination, you have vitamins, and Euglenas would not harm or eat each other.

Huh?

Green bottle: it's neutral, not that bad, but as it is the same colour of the Euglenas it doesn't allow light to be properly assimilated.

Red bottle: as there's less light inside the bottle, Euglenas start dying.

Blue bottle: hardly any trace of light in there. Poor Euglenas die quickly and the bottle becomes a cemetery because they cannot make photosynthesis :(

Well, the thing is that, as you can see, I haven't been really crazy about writing during the last few days. I'm at ease. Well, the truth is that yesterday I was very very very sick, but I'll tell you about that some other day.

A great truth is that I've been worried about all that's happening around, those problems make me think my situation was stupid... I already knew it was stupid, but in spite of that I just couldn't stop. Of course I still keep on thinking of him (I would be a liar if I said the contrary), but not in the same way, suddenly something changed. Getting in touch with him doesn't hurt anymore.

*Yeah, I'm getting rid of feelings :)

*The strange calm is becoming a bad habit.

*Gosh, now I notice, I'm still a bit sick; my handwriting is not as good as it should be :(

*Ahh, this is important: friends, I love you all and I wish to be a support for you. Hey, it's my pleasure, that's what friends are for.

*I miss Citripiox. Brooooooooo, I see you in the evening. I'm worried because if you got sick just as mum and me, then I guess you couldn't perform very well on last night's show. Maybe your star bassist fingers were clumsy. Hey, we are much better now.

La cursi y unos cuates

2010-05-10T19:36:00.005-05:00

Ok. Este es un post dedicado a mi mamá... porque aunque 9.5 de cada 10 conversaciones terminan en discusión, nos amamos.

Dejo una de sus canciones favoritas en la vida

The Rolling Stones, "Paint It Black"

Ahhh, otra rola... Porque la verdad es que las dos babeamos por Jim Morrison :P

The Doors, "Touch Me"

Mmm, ahora ven por qué soy como soy... crecí escuchando todo este tipo de cosas y con ideas no muy convencionales, jajaja. O sea, la culpa de todo la tiene mi madre, así que ya saben a quien reclamarle :)

*Por cierto, el día de madre e hija estuvo super. Claro, Citripiox dice que ahora parezco cocker spaniel con mi nuevo corte de cabello, pero a mí me gusta... aunque me siento algo extraña :P

*Amigos: Fighting!!

*Jaja, después de todo el post no fue tan cursi.

On Morons

2010-05-09T12:36:00.006-05:00

Hahaha, it's a shame he can see the point only because he's actually an alien. Oh, wait a minute:

Here he is, the perfect partner for the moron. Hahaha.

Jhonen Vasquez is wonderful!! Both images belong to Squee! #2.

*Yeah, I'm fine. Today the Selfish Euglena woke up to find hereself in the green bottle.

Vértigo

2010-05-08T21:01:00.001-05:00

Hace una semana me preguntaba que podría pasar en mayo. Bueno, ya lo estoy descubriendo. Malas noticias, incertidumbre y una gran sorpesa que todavía no estoy autorizada para comunicar (o sea, chismear jaja).

El mes comenzó con una Selfish abrumada. Rafa dice que cuando sientes la maldita sensación de vacío interior es porque en realidad sucede lo contrario. ¿Huh? Sí, esa sensación proviene de cargar más de lo que se puede soportar; entonces decidimos negar o ignorar lo que nos hace sentir tan mal y tontamente creemos que lo que queda es el vacío interior, pero en realidad lo que hay es una gran cantidad de emociones y pensamientos luchando por salir, peleando contra nuestra necedad. He ahí lo abrumador: no querer ver, terror a reflexionar, necesidad de evitar el dolor. Y aquí voy de nuevo, es que cuando crees que no pasa nada, pasa mucho. En fin, así es esto. Yo insisto en que estoy bien y en que la extraña calma ha vuelto... Gosh, ¿por qué nadie me cree?, jaja, ¡odiosos!

Los problemas son cosa aparte. Además de totalmente inesperados, son muy fuertes y le pegaron a personas que quiero mucho-demasiado-con toda mi alma. Últimamente todo ha sido muy raro, han pasado las cosas más inverosímiles que pudiéramos imaginar. Sin embargo, estoy segura de que todo se va a resolver para bien y las decisiones a tomar serán las adecuadas. Soy muy afortunada por tener amigos tan fuertes y con un valor a prueba de todo (hasta a prueba de Paolas, jaja).

Un abrazo para todos :)

Hoy soy una Selfish Euglena en el frasco rojo.

Relief

2010-05-08T00:42:00.004-05:00

I feel relieved. After all there's always a way, a solution...Hope. Friends, you know that your happiness is my happiness; if you're sad or in trouble, I'm strong enough to hold your hand. Although I guess I'm the most immature friend you could ever have, I'm thankful because you trust me, because you share the good and the bad times, because you teach me lessons on life, because you pay attention, because you would never leave me in the dark, because you don't care I'm a nerd (haha), because you are there, always there. Gosh, I'm going to cry. Sorry, but this Selfish is moved and concerned.

I cannot but admire your strength.

Everything will be ok and I want to be there to see you smile :)

Fighting!!

Unconditional

2010-05-07T12:15:00.001-05:00

Gosh, if life goes on this way, I'm going to cry :(

It's not fair.

I love my friends and want them to be fine. I'm worried.

I'm speechless.

*Tell me if there's something I can do.

Suspiciously Quiet

2010-05-07T00:34:00.008-05:00

Professor Domínguez used to say that I was the suspiciously quiet girl; in fact, she's always called me like that. I guess she knows whenever I'm eager to say something but don't dare speak. I'm shy yet dangerously expressive to death. Yeah, I'm full of contradictions. You may say I write too much. You may also say that what I write here is revealing. But writing is one thing, speaking is quite another. I feel rather (just a bit) confident when I write, but words get entangled on my tongue when I try to speak. It's not a matter of being afraid. I take responsibility of what I write here or everywhere else, but there's something that doesn't allow me to say the appropriate words when I speak. Somebody even told me that I'm really effusive and explosive when I write, but I'm cold as ice when we talk. Professor Patán says I've got to breathe and keep calm.

I can be in control of specific basic situations (haha). I mean, if I'm asked to give my opinion, I speak. If I'm a teacher, I speak. If I'm with close friends, I speak. But if I have to explain something important or have to talk in front of a crowd my brain overflows with words and that's when I lose my nerve. It's not that I don't know what to say, it's that I don't want to say anything at all. I prefer being the suspiciously quiet girl.

Or maybe it all amounts to what Eduardo Galeano says, "writing was my way of hitting and embracing."

*As you can see, I like Eduardo Galeano's book a lot.
*Here's that calm again :)
*Ok, I admit it, I'm afraid of many things :S