The Other Urbanity

2012-01-29T19:57:00.000-08:00

When you start using my full name when talking to me then i know whatever it is we are talking about is real (be that personal issues, family issues, job issues, life issues, discussions, fights). Today you did not even hesitate, it just came out every single time as if there was no doubt in your mind and heart that that was how you should address me. Today I felt as if we were just acquaintances from a recent past. Maybe, just maybe, I should stop reading into it, into the 8 or 10 times it came out that way, never the other way... never the way that made me feel I was 'it'.

I guess to acknowledge this, to read into this, to feel as I feel is just one more step towards pulling that giant band-aid that's holding my shit all tightly packed in one place in one quick swift movement. In any case, I am desperately aware that when the shit eventually hits the fan then gravity will do the rest. I just hope gravity is merciful.

It is not the rock that changes, it is you.

2012-01-25T07:31:00.000-08:00

Hello? Anybody there? ... echo echo... shoot, did I manage to chase you away already? I do hope you are only out fishing somewhere around the pond and that you'll be back before nightfall. In any case I'll just stay here talking to myself, as I normally do... (and then I ask myself whether I need to go back to medication, seriously woman!).

Ok, odd behavior aside, I must inform you all (hopefully not all imaginary) readers that I have started climbing. Rock/sport climbing that is. And god only knows this sh*t is hard ma'friends! Here I thought that my seriously long legs, my somewhat decent flexibility and the fact that I spend 2 hours a day, 6 days a week at the gym doing strength exercises would help me. Guess what? They haven't! It's like learning to walk all over again! My knees are bruised (my own fault for forgetting the one critical element that knees are to be away from the body to avoid shifting your center of gravity) and my hands are a bit sore (no gloves no nada allowed). Don't get me wrong, I know from before even starting to practice it that it was a challenging sport, but I had left it there, physically challenging. Nobody ever said anything about mentally challenging. The physical I expected, the mentally? Well, let's just say it hit me like a ton of bricks thrown from a 10-story building.

Climbing means learning to trust myself (stop laughing! I can see you!). Trust my body, namely that the fact that I feel only the tip of my shoes on the crevice of the rock is enough to know I can stand, or that if 3 out of 5 fingers holding the grip above me are enough to propel me upwards. Trust that the legs I work on continuously in the gym are strong enough to hold my weight and my back and shoulders can finish doing the trick. Trust my strength, the one that comes with 150+pounds in a 5'10" (pseudo athletic) body is more than enough to make me reach the top every single time. Trust my mind and convince it I'm actually secured with the harness and that there is someone on the ground watching my every movement and taking care that I wont fall... but most importantly, that it [my mind] will be able to shut down for a brief span of time and let it all go, allow me to concentrate solely on the task at hand.

As you can imagine I have failed miserably in all accounts, but I keep trying, I keep falling and I keep standing up, and I keep pulling myself upwards even when my hands and my hamstrings and my forearms burn... because when I do manage to reach the top and look at the view and know that regardless of the fact that it took me 20 minutes more than everyone else to reach it, I finally did... and that's what counts in the end.

Moreover, I never thought climbing would define my motto for this year: It is not the rock that changes, it is you. The rock remains there, where it has been since the beginning of time. Constant, solid, eternal. You, on the other hand, are volatile, impatient, quick to anger... but you are also malleable, improvable, changeable. My path throughout this 2012 will be full of rocks, big gigantic threatening rocks and cliffs... it is up to me to let go and fall down back to the ground, tired and beaten, or keep climbing, until everything burns, until everything is sore and bruised, until I reach the top, look at the view and realize that I have made it through. Unscathed never, but through.

10,000+ft up and away

2012-01-13T05:59:00.000-08:00

Well hello there.

Did you know I just hiked down a mountain? Well, not like in this precise exact moment but some days ago to be exact. I went up (and down) 10,000+ft (we have the highest peak in the Antilles and/or the east coast of the Atlantic) and dropped (intentionally lost) a bit of baggage I had been carrying on me like a dead body (or a couple) for a while now. I am starting to believe that I need to do these major couple-of-days trips somewhere, anywhere, alone (even if I have friends or random people I have never met that eventually I'll befriend (you see, my mother always says that my greatest virtue is the fact that I can talk even with rocks if need be) around). Alone in the sense that it is me against the world and its surroundings, that I wake up and go to bed alone, that there is no one I can cuddle against and tell them things, so they carry them around for a while, before I pick them right back up. Alone in the sense that I can't let things go on people, but that I need to let them go on me, let them go and run the other way as if hell broke loose behind me. Let them go and let them burn and let them not find a way to me. This trip allowed me to do so, and for that I am thankful and appreciative of the mercy of the gods.

I did, however, come back a bit bruised (to say the least) (and I do mean literal cuts and bruises and swollen ankles). But I prefer to think fondly of them as battle wounds, wounds acquired as a victor and not as a loser. I made it through with praises and glories (specially as a first-timer in this) and I welcome them with arms wide open. I have moved some things from my bucket list higher up the list, it is definitely time to try new things out, new challenges, fail and stand back up again and try again (because at the end that is the trick to it all, trying and standing back up again, eventually you'll get the hang of it and there will be no need or reason to fail, but every reason to stand up tall and straight... however long that might take). In every negative thing there is something positive, there are risks to take and rewards to get at the end of it all. I learned that as well while hiking...

I don't know if it was just the lack of oxygen or the purity of it all, the cold biting water, the hiking up and above the sea of clouds, the mountains and valleys extending themselves far beyond what my mortal eyes could see, the sitting around the fire, the lack of phones and computers and facebook and all those darn every day things. Maybe it was all of this and maybe it was nothing of this. It was the rawness, the emptiness, the silence broken only by a heavy breathing, a pumping heart, the twigs breaking underneath my tennis shoes. Whatever it was I was able to let some things go, and at the end that is what matters. For this time, at least, the lights at the end of the tunnel were not those of the upcoming train.

shockwaves and itches

2012-01-03T06:27:00.000-08:00

So I had not written anything for a while, mostly because blogger had a weird twitch going on and it wouldn't allow me to compose and edit anything correctly, so I would get slightly exasperated and give up with the excuse I would surely stop by later. Sometimes I did, but then the vicious cycle would start again, until I just forgot entirely about it and opened it again to see whether my luck had changed. It did indeed. And in that note, the first thing to get out of my chest is a: Happy New Year to all those out there! May this 2012 bring you and your loved ones the most amazing of things.

My 2012 has had a rather rocky start and I have wondered where the restart button is to see if we can just erase and rewind and start it over again. In all truthfulness, the whole rocky start has been the result of collateral damage, to me that is, not to anyone else for something I did and/or didn't do. Things have been happening to some people close to me and I have been hit by the shock-waves, unintentionally I presume, but hit nonetheless. Maybe in any other scenario I wouldn't feel it that much, but because the holidays were a bit of a bittersweet experience, I am just a dab more susceptible and sensitive to things lately.

However, (and a stressed double underlined 'however' that is) I have no desire to let the shock-waves drag me down. I have done my best to face this new year with my best smile, looking at it straight in the eyes and telling it, with just the right intonation and without any voice breaking down on me, to "go ahead 2012, bring it on, I am so up for a challenge". It is time I get myself out of the circle I've been running in the last six months, maybe I am not ready to come out of my disappeared stage, but at least I can melt with the crowd. I am dizzy as hell as it is already.

To show you all how committed I am to this I have written a set of goals for this year, some of which I will keep secretly in an air tight containment until the coming 31st of December, others I will share when appropriate or when achieved, preferably the latter over the former. I had not set a list of goals for a while now, and I think this was as good a time as any to start again with the practice, thus concentrating my energies in fixed achievable things, although there are and will be challenges and obstacles for the taking in this whole process. But I don't mind breaking a sweat. For as a good friend just told me: "it never gets easier, you just get better". I feel, or to be more accurate, I have an urge (like an itch you just can't scratch off) to become better... however that might be achieved.

2011-12-13T08:30:00.000-08:00

Today I (really really) miss the home and family I left behind...a continent away.

It is time to burst in flames and burn

2011-12-08T12:43:00.001-08:00

I write, constantly and continuously, in my head, here, on the back of a paper napkin or sketched around my arm if need be for the babel of words, ideas, incoherent forms of speech, feelings and emotions which have flowed through my being during the last couple of months with such unstoppable force have made me believe I will burst at any given point. I write for it is a channel through which I can vent without fear of an internal combustion, I write because it helps me control what I feel at any given point. I write because when I do I am able to suppress the urge of bursting, the levels of vulnerability, the damage and the hurting. I write because it seems as the only sensible and reasonable thing to do for I am forbidden to think of the other options, those that belong to a past life... and I am bound not to fall off the wagon if I can prevent it. Although, truth be told, I almost fell some weeks ago, but I held on with the tips of my fingertips bloodied and cut, until I pulled myself up again... heart pounding against my chest, drenched in sweat while I held tight to the floor of the wagon, as far away from the edge as possible.

In the last couple of months I have only allowed myself to write, for all the aforementioned reasons... I wanted, no, I needed to prevent the burst. But writing has not been enough, regardless of the fact that I have centered what little energy I had left wild and free for that sole purpose, for stopping any signs of the impeding burst from showing, in containing it deep within the recesses of my self for if in case the burst did take place within me, due to a lack of any conceivable way of stopping it, it would break me from the inside only and let the outside, the hard shell around me, to take the hit without breaking. I have failed on this, however, if not entirely close enough. Small constant bursts here and there announce the coming of what I will surely be unable to stop once it starts... I can't impose force containment anymore.

I have come to realize I need to stop, after the strain I have put my mind and body has begun to show, the weariness a heavy burden upon me. I need to allow myself to hurt, I need to accept it hurts, I need to forgive myself for what I have brought to my own self and for what I have caused in others. I am the one to blame, I know that, now I need to let it go. Now I need to drop it like a hot potato before it drags me back to the pits of hell I once escaped from and to which I have no desire to go back. More than anything, I need to accept it is ok not to be ok, and I also need to realize that at the end I can endure far more than I have given myself credit. For I have gone through hell and back before and lived to tell the tale... it is only time for me to do it once again (although aware it might not be the last time... life is but beginning).

I did not want to admit defeat, but I must. I need to pick up what little is left of my sanity and composure and leave for a while, get away, disappear among the multitude. See without being seen, hear without being heard. This process might just as easy drain me to the same point of no return as bursting would, but at least I have chosen to burst now and not when I can no longer hold on to anything anymore. Maybe, just maybe, when I am no longer expecting, asking, demanding, seeking or wanting everything will fall back into place, exactly where it should and I might just end up right where I belong.

I am weary of the road less traveled, just as much as I have been before. It is unappealing, long and torturous, but I know it is what I got to do. No one said it was going to be easy or that it wouldn't hurt or that I was supposed to come out of it all unscathed. It's just what needs to go down, it's time to pull the giant band-aid keeping everything together and let everything burst in flames and burn. The shit will hit the fan and gravity will take care of the rest. And eventually not every light at the end of the tunnel will be those of the incoming train (or so I hope).

"Sometimes you've got no option but to become the Phoenix. And to become the Phoenix you've got to first go through the ashes and that means that something that used to be has to burn. There's a loss. There's a darkness.There's a struggle. And then there's your chance." **
[From: http://www.lifeasanartistpreneur.com/]

** In this process of realization and decision making I have come across quotes, messages and ideas from outside (like the one above). These have given me insight of not only what I am going through, of what I must do, but, most importantly, of what will happen when I go through it all. Call them inspirational or motivational or whatever other corny name you prefer. But they work, and that is all I need to know, no need for labels.

Whenever is a distant thought... light years away.

2011-12-07T08:56:00.001-08:00

I let me guard down for half a second and everything came rushing in, unfiltered and unstoppable and painful. Everything was real as it could be, tangible and breakable and noisy and cluttered and damaging. It took me the rest of the second to put the gate in motion, and it shut with such speed and force it crushed whatever was trying to cross at the time. The situation has now been contained but there is no denying the wreckage, small wreckage indeed, but wreckage nonetheless.

I have stripped my soul from my body, fit her in the strongest dwarf-made armor and lock her away heavily guarded. I go back to the bookshelf and I hear a dormant distant beat between two poem books... I walk away, look back one more time as I shut, bar and barb the door. Not a soul will go in there again I order, not until what is now broken is whole again, whenever that might be.

2011-12-06T11:12:00.000-08:00

I was away for some days, out of the country working (or immersed in slave labor, I am unsure what would be the proper term). I didn't really had much to write, nor did I feel coherent enough to do so. My head was cluttered, mostly work-related stuff, but there were also a gamut of emotions to dense to even bother getting myself any more worked-up about it. They flowed within me continuously and unavoidably like unfocused streams of energy, but the crazy amount of responsibility I had to deal with made it impossible to deal with it more than a few scattered minutes at a time.

I arrived during the weekend, and having some days off from work I have immersed myself in some winter cleaning, starting with my bookshelf, or, to be more precise, my house's bookshelf with books which are the house's and not particularly mine... those were locked up inside the closet where they could not be disturbed in any which way. I decided to let my actual books out and reorganize the bookshelf, to make it a little bit more mine. The task was grueling, seeing I am the only one who actually cleans and organizes the books (and after two years living abroad... well, the mess it was all in was to be expected). The best part of it all is falling into the routine of taking everything down, cleaning them, getting them up, moving them around, letting the books tell you where they fit the best and not the other way around until you reach that point where there's that perfect symmetry between genres, special books, orders and sizes that lets you know, beyond a doubt, the job has been well done. The routine also makes my brain go dormant for a while (yes, it is possible) and I am saved from the trouble of over-analyzing again and again. Sadly, this routine also made my mind wander off a bit, directly to my other bookshelf, to the one I left behind, to the one that felt more mine than this one did... and my heart starts to ache, slowly at first, almost indistinguishably, and then more and more, until it feels it will hammer itself out of my rib cage and run away.

I stay really really still, leaning against the bookshelf, letting the books fall from my hands and hit the floor with a dry thump. It takes a while for the aching to cease, if it ceases at all, and I go back to the routine, repeatedly and unchanging, until the hammering gradually stops and the aching is just a distant constant lull...

the wisdom of dragons...

2011-11-25T12:11:00.000-08:00

"You are still to angry, and your mind is still too cluttered.
Keep hold of the things you need to remember, but don't let them distract you from what is happening. Find a place of calm within yourself, and let the concerns of the world wash over you without sweeping you away with them."

-Glaedr (the last of the high Old Ones (golden dragon) speaking to Eragon, Book 4-Inheritance).

There are signs everywhere leading me somewhere I am yet to discover, it is time for me to go down that path... thinking without thinking, so i act as if out of instinct and not reason. Maybe then I can find what I am longing for, whatever that might be.

realization

2011-11-25T07:57:00.001-08:00

if stars are born from chaos, a whole universe is about to start sprouting from my fingertips... like white daisies on a summer day.

so you know exactly where to look if you are to find...

2011-11-24T08:23:00.000-08:00

I want to wake up with the sunlight pouring into the room slowly and quietly as if it still didn't want to wake up the rest of the house, while the smells of books -old and new- mix with last night's rain, the moist green grass from the garden outside and the lavender flowers starting to dry on a shelf. I want to pick up the books I left aside and retrace my fingers over the covers of those I enjoyed the most, daring to just open one and read a line or two and reminiscence. I will close the book and I shall place each of them where it belongs, for the shelves will have little genre labels, so I know exactly where to look if I am to find. From the shelf closest to my desk I will select a poem book and read out loud a random poem, articulating properly, emphasizing where needed, and finding joy in letting the words melt in my mouth as if there were no greater delight that this. Then, I shall think of my father, as the greatest poem reader I have ever met, and I will thank him silently and within for sharing his passion with me. The book will go back to its place, and I shall look around once more before I am out the door to face the challenges brought along with the new day...

joy is made up of little things

2011-11-23T07:37:00.000-08:00

Surrounding my workplace like a fort just so the fantasy book I'm currently reading is not visible is one of those tiny little i'm.not.supposed.to.but.i.do.nonetheless kind of things.

like a bulldozer to a daisy

2011-11-22T08:53:00.001-08:00

My body has a peculiar way of telling me things, it does so in one of two ways: indirectly, almost as if it actually didn't want me to notice what was going on or directly in a right-there-in-my-face-no-doubt-about-it fashion. I can't say I hadn't started to notice a bit more than usual the changes, I had just preferred to ignore them... turned a deaf ear to every sound, every voice, a blind eye to everything else. It has been building up, even without a functioning central alarm system I should have stopped and looked around. 'It is never this quiet inside', I should had said out loud, but no, I just let things pile up until now, when there is no denying it. Now when it hit me like a bulldozer does a daisy on a field... at least this time around hives were not part of the message. And for the little things one most always be thankful.

It's time for me to do a change of game plan, finally realize this season is lost beyond recovery and if the game is to go on, at least it will go on with that realization made... no need to keep fooling ourselves. I might even enjoy the game from the sidelines.

There is always next season, there are always new players, there is always the love for the game...

I tried to move, or was it more a thought of moving?

2011-11-21T11:46:00.000-08:00

I tried to move, or was it more a thought of moving? I felt my eyes move underneath my eyelids but I couldn’t open them. My mouth was dry and bitter, and I could taste blood at the back of it. My brain banged against my skull, suddenly cramping and forcing my eyes open. The cramping eventually ceased and I stared about. Heavy drapes shut the light from outside, if there was any out there. I could hear the falling rain, thick full droplets that fell with a rather loud thump against the windowpane. A sudden lighting broke the silence, its light illuminating through the drapes and making me remember.

I remember running through the forest, the fog clinging to me, slowing me down, wanting me to be taken by them… them with their heavy footsteps against the mud. I remember him dying in my arms, his blood a puddle where we lay in, warm and thick as the rain against the windowpane. The same rain I remember washing over me, the branches ripping my shirt, the deafening roar of the river close by… an untamed beast. I remember the footsteps closing in on me, the shadows all around me… her face covered in sweat and blood and smoke… the river folding within itself untamed and wild… the blood from his wounds soaking through my clothes, her moans of exhaustion, the constant clash of steel against steel of flesh against flesh, of bones breaking and skin being thorn… the voices in and outside my head, the sudden laughter deep and threatening… the fog, the rain, the lighting, her screaming, the jump, the darkness, no turning back. Of everything I remember the darkness the most, breaking me, eating me up. I could no longer breathe, water filling my lungs, the lighting illuminating the belly of the beast I was within one more time. The rock against which my ribs cracked, the sound still vivid in the back of my head, and then my eyes closed and I was swallowed by the river.

The door opened with a sudden creak and my eyes opened wide staring out into the darkness. The footsteps were muffled but the sound of a dagger and sword against chain mail and cloth was unmistakable. My body tensed underneath the heavy sheets, and I kept my eyes open, no need to feign sleep. The dying embers of the fire were covered by two or three pieces of wood and lighted anew. The room was suddenly illuminated, the glow of the fire hurting my eyes. The person in front of the fire turned around slowly, almost poetically, and stared back at me. I tried to move, or was it more a thought of moving?

self-preservation

2011-11-19T11:37:00.001-08:00

I'm mad at myself, I know that I shouldn't even be complaining about it because I brought it down on myself out of my own hardheadedness and that annoying little voice inside my head -currently running loose within the pond- that told me to jump. I shouldn't complain but I have to vent for fear of internal combustion.

I should know better than this, I don't jump and I sure as hell don't let things flow, there are valid set-in-stone reasons why I don't. Prior experience and lessons learned should had suffice to make the central alarm system inside my head go berserk on me, shrieking like a banshee dragged from the darkest pits of hell, forcing me to pull on the emergency brakes as if the world would fall out of its axis if I failed to do so. But of course they didn't suffice, it could have never been so simple, nor even surprising that the central alarm system has been running on empty batteries for some time now, drained of energy as everything else within after the wreck caused by the last couple of months.

In any case, common sense, that mythological-product-of-my-imagination sense that still lingers around should had just taken a bat to my rib cage, head, knees, pit of the stomach, whatever... I mean, I was his for the taking... that coward.... traitor.... argh... useless! I'm telling you, in this day and age you can no longer find anything with character. I mean, if you know that the lights at the end of the tunnel are those of the incoming train, at least have the decency to shout something at the idiot standing in awe expecting and hoping beyond every conceivable thing that the light brings all the answers and that the booming deafening sound that builds up around him is just part of the experience and not the actual unstoppable force going straight against his immovability.

It is needless to say I was that idiot. But merry go-lucky me I have the most self centered little voices and group of monsters inside my head too worried for their own self preservation to let me stay rooted in the path of self destruction and the incoming train. So out of sheer selfishness (lucky me) I was pulled out almost by the hairs, short of breath and stricken. When I finally came to my senses, or what little remained of them, I noticed a certain something something running through my veins, coming hand in hand with the realization of everything that has gone down while I stood as an idiot.

Now, I can put a name to the feeling. Now, I'm just plain ol'mad. Mad at myself, which is not something rather strange, but quite common if you have been around long enough to notice, but this time around I'll teach myself a lesson I am bound not to forget anytime soon. And now, first and foremost, I have the head of an itsy bitty tiny little voice to hunt down.

I should know better by now, tsk tsk.

2011-11-16T08:22:00.001-08:00

"Jump, jump" said the little voice in my head.

My inner Alice in Wonderland's Queen of Hearts says "Off with its head".

comfort zone

2011-11-14T19:22:00.001-08:00

People always say that one has to enjoy the little things in life, the small short moments that take you out of the war zone of your head and surroundings directly to your comfort zone, to that little tiny quiet place in the middle of nowhere that is absolutely and forever yours. Mine, well, it happens to be a pond with a castle nearby where just beyond the mountains you can down to the sea.

Rarely have I been there during this year, and the few times I have seem to be concentrated in the last couple of months. Those same last couple of transition months that have shaped and unshaped me constantly. But these terribly short little visits are probably the reason why my sanity has survived all along, and what charges my inner batteries and pushes me to go on when I'm brought back directly to the middle of the fight, explosions everywhere, and people running all around me.

This weekend won me a trip down to the pond. It also helped me decide to just let things flow to wherever they might take me and, for a change, enjoy the ride. Maybe, just maybe, I can end up coming back to the pond and cutting the grass growing thick and wild around the castle...

falling in between question marks

2011-11-11T09:01:00.000-08:00

In times like this I remember why on earth I never listen to that itsy bitsy tiny little voice inside my head that whispers when all the others shout from one side of my brain to the other. The same one that has had a "go ahead, jump" in constant repeat for some months now.

Now that I have jumped I'm falling head first into god knows what without even a miserable safety line. The fall, I must say, has been interesting at times, enticing at others, but draining at most. Am I supposed to just close my eyes and let myself fall at full speed until I crash or will something be waiting at the end of it all to break my fall? Why does it feel safer to just pull the brakes, holding whatever might be near and dangling there until there's a reason to let go yet again?

Should I just close my eyes and fall or should I just dangle about until my tired hands can't hold on any longer and I plummet down?

11:11 - 11-11-11

2011-11-11T07:13:00.001-08:00

Go ahead, make a wish! (no fallen eyelash, no shooting star, no coin down the magic well will beat this moment)... feel the magic running through the day...

another perfect example of how to get in Santa's 'naughty' list...

2011-11-06T07:23:00.000-08:00

Wanting what you can't have... but enjoying the pursuit.

the day is made of questions

2011-11-01T13:56:00.001-07:00

a friend looks up at me and says "i think you have to stop 'cause every time you put that phone down you look so sad".

and i sit back and wonder... does it really show that much?

hit the brakes

2011-10-31T09:19:00.000-07:00

Who ever thought letting things flow would work? I sure didn't, maybe because it rarely works for me (as a consequence of, most probably, me having the attention span and the patience of a five-year-old). In any case, it worked this time around and I am thankful. The last couple of months have been an emotional roller-coaster taking me deeper and deeper in twists and turns right into the middle of the earth… taking speed just some weeks before. I could feel the old familiar feelings creeping in, those I had fought against so long before, smirking at the fact I was going to crash back into them and their haunting place as if I had never left before. They would had welcome me back with arms wide open I am sure… as well as with an unstoppable and unbreakable desire to break me (and this time, they would make sure I could not piece myself together again). Somehow, however, the gods above were good (or have found another wandering soul to torture anew) and my ride has come to an end (for now at least)… I have placed my feet above the solid ground, the weight around my ankles slightly lighter. I look around my surroundings as the darkness recedes quietly and slowly away and the obstacles ahead start taking shape. The voices are silent for a change and I take the first step forward...

tattered bridges and safety nets

2011-10-21T06:36:00.000-07:00

I'm not coping like I should be coping with the pile-up, in any way or manner. I may say I am, I might act as if I was, but I'm not. The stability that once was is no longer there, and the tattered bridge to the other side hangs from a single frail thread... if I run fast enough will I make it? But if it breaks and I fall will the pain pass quickly while the river underneath washes everything away until I reborn from the water itself or will the river just crash me directly against the closest rock and let me drown among the fishes. I'm not sure I want to find that out, but I no longer want to stay where I am because I'll be consumed by my surroundings until nothing remains of me but nothingness itself. It's time to find a safety net... I know that now.

I'll deal with it later

2011-10-20T08:06:00.000-07:00

So this is how denial looks like? Not that I should be asking this question, seeing I have been in other denial-like scenarios, but it had been so long since anything even remotely similar to this happened that I’m starting to wonder whether any past events were just a product of my imagination. It’s a numbing feeling I must say, I’m not sad nor happy nor angry nor excited nor lost at any given time (maybe it is a concentration of all of those feelings that’s stuck right in my ribcage)… I’m just around, occupying space for the time being. Don’t get me wrong, I am well aware this will not be a process I’ll stay stuck-on forever, but this adjustment period is not doing me any good. Most days I just feel I have even less control over stuff than the day before, and stuff (which comes in all colors, sizes, and flavors) just piles up like there’s no tomorrow. In the meantime I just look up at the stuff that arrives; I nod my head and show them where to pile themselves as neatly as possible, and quietly (praise the heavens for that) they do. I don’t even stop to stare back at the pile, for I know I’ll deal with it eventually… just not right now.

what once was is no longer there

2011-10-17T09:00:00.000-07:00

I heard it break, and at first I thought the sudden crashing noise seemed so far away it must had come from outside. But the silence that followed and the draining feeling that wrapped itself around me highlighted my mistake. Nothing broke outside, there were no pieces scattered around the parking lot, no sudden fear of walking barefoot and cutting myself, ‘cause there is nothing out there, just as there is nothing in either. What once was is no longer there, but it didn't disappear, it wasn’t borrowed, or taken out in a single piece, quietly and without much fuss. It was more the child of an internal combustion and someone taking a bat to it (several times). Now the pieces lie scattered everywhere, some deeply embedded into the tissue within, and the fear of hurting myself is constant, because just breathing hurts, and I fear that if I walk to fast everything inside will shred to pieces. The silence numbs and drains in constant waves, and nothing remains but to sit still in a corner and pray this time around it won’t take so long to pass. But the prayers will go unanswered, I am sure. I brought this to myself and now the consequences are for me to bear. Maybe I should just stand up and run, let everything shred to tiny little pieces, break and tear, until nothing remains salvageable but an empty worn-out shell and a patched and taped-up heart hidden between two poem books in the topmost shelf.

suddenly, there's a tremble...

2011-09-27T07:44:00.000-07:00

Have you ever gotten the feeling of something imploding deep within you? When suddenly there’s a tremble in the pit of your stomach and a crater-like void appears, obliterating whatever was there before. You can feel it, but you can’t see it. You get knocked down on your knees and the tremble hits you stronger, like a wall of bricks falling on you. Then is when you realize you have become the immovable object in the unstoppable force’s path… and there’s nothing you can do about it. Eventually, it too shall pass, and there’s calmness around you, the same that tends to appear after an atomic bomb… there’s a silence so loud it hurts your ears and you need to wrap your hands around them, hoping they will shield them from the worst. It is useless, of course. The void slowly grows inside of you, like a big thick tree, and you know it will not stop doing so until it is so big it can no longer fit inside. Awareness wraps itself around you and you come to terms with the fact that when that moment comes you’ll burst, without a second’s notice.

Can i ask you for a favor?

2011-09-20T08:45:00.000-07:00

Take me far away, beyond the limits of human comprehension. Take me where I have never been before, make me stand and stare in awe. Drive me to the limit of mortal curiosity and drag out the screaming fears embedded deep within me. Make me confess the deepest secrets of my humanity while we over analyze the shadows in the moon. Let’s cross the ocean and let it wash me away among the broken-down waves, until the air is smacked away from me in one single blow. Hold me tight between your arms and rebuild me from scratch, carefully setting back together every single little piece, leaving none behind. Clean out the rust and musty parts until I’m all shinny and new, but keep my patched up heart between two poem books until I’m ready to take care of it again. Turn me upside down, walking right into the storm and push me from the edge. Let me fall into the abyss, compress and decompress, fly into the darkness until the light shows me the way towards the unspoken place.

Into the rubble

2011-09-13T09:03:00.000-07:00

You are still in shock, said a friend. You have yet to overcome the burden of reality and proceed towards acceptance. You are in denial, and in such you are stuck between the coming and the going without moving, just looking out and hoping something will pull you in or out or forward or backward but somewhere, anywhere.

She didn’t say all that in all those words but there was no need. For the first 5 words came with their overweight baggage, and they all piled themselves neatly around me like a fort. And like an island in the middle of a reckless ocean I wait in transit lost somewhere between transition and no man’s land.

I try to look beyond me, as I have always done. Allowing my soul to escape my body and wonder, until it has seen enough and it comes back and shares, filling me up with goodness and silver linings. Now, however, I have to keep her strapped to me, so it won’t run away and hide. Hide until I am breathless and desperate and on my knees begging her to come back. She eventually does, angry, desperate and lingering but unwilling to go into me immediately. She prefers to sits next to me, and look at me, and I look back at her, swollen and aching, and speechlessly I ask her to come back, to find among all the rubble the dying silver of the lining, so we can nurse it back to its original state, bright and dashing.

But she just stares and I wait, scared shitless and desperate, hoping beyond hope that she will not look down and tell me that it is too late, that what once was is never to be again. But she just sits closer to me, slightly warm to the touch and looks forward, through a little creak left inside our fort. I look with her, unsure at what, but with her forward and beyond, until the creak grows slightly and a growing warmth sweeps through me. Eventually I look back to where she sat but she is no longer there.

No longer hiding she is within me. And as one we leave all behind crawling through the creak and into the rubble in search of what is lost...

i've been underwater, breathing out and in...

2011-08-22T08:58:00.000-07:00

I’m in the office; the wind starts to blow hard against my windowpane as the effects of a hurricane somewhere north of the island start to be felt. My body feels hot, as if yesterday’s sun bathing continues even inside close quarters and I can’t help but wonder if deep under my skin I still smell like salt water…

I’m listening to the XXs (in constant repeat), and I have been transported to such a faraway place I’m not even sure how to get back… or if I even want to. How can I exist outside of this place I ask myself? How can it calm my thoughts like it does, soothing them until my only desire is to crawl deep within the covers, tucked in up to my neck. Maybe it’s just my heart that’s in so much turmoil that my mind has decided to quiet itself for a change to avoid any internal combustion.

The rain starts to fall, giant droplets burst and echo as they crash into the pavement, and something seems to crash and burst deep within me and I ran back to that safe place within the music, so deep inside I’ll probably be locked in before I can even make up my mind. Then the uncontrollable urge of jumping comes over me and yesterday’s waves, those that still live within me, washes it away knocking the air from me.

The beat engulfs me and I surrender. I stay strapped to the edge, my body feels hot and the wind blows hard against the windowpane...

There was no inspiration, only incoherence

2011-02-03T06:47:00.000-08:00

Well hello there.

I know, it has been a while. I apologize, truly. It's been, hmm, complicated but I swear it was me not you...

I've missed this though, the constant feeling of letting things go by putting them into words connected to other words right in between nouns and verbs and adverbs and adjectives and making it all have sense in the end, some sense at least. At some point that feeling stopped, or, well, not exactly. The feeling of putting things down and pushing them away or over or into and eventually letting them go has always been there, constant and urgent. But the means through which I could connect them all with words and write them down, be it here, in a bloc note, in a random piece of napkin stained with bright yellow mustard was gone. There was no inspiration, only incoherence.

Somehow I found myself deeply buried in the realm of grad school, living in Europe, the strangeness of my days and the slow routine that started to take shape as days went by and turned into weeks, into months, into a year and change. I also found myself overcoming other challenges, accepting and ultimately embracing myself and the rest of that self-help psychobabble you don't really believe in but you give it a try just in case and then claim it wasn't really that that helped you sort things out but other stuff, like, you know, stuff. In the process, however, I lost the spark of writing, the actual desire of scribble or type things down, whatever came first.

In the midst of everything else I lost myself for a while, but I channeled the random emotions that attacked me and threatened to suffocate me with other things. I started taking photos and I started cooking again, none of them great but most of the times good, and I try to pat myself on the back when it is good and also when it turns out not so good... at least I tried. But as with writing I sometimes sit and stare out the window and wonder why can't I just do it again and why can't it just come out right this one time. Life doesn't happen that way I've come to learn and sometimes yes the lemons are there, sometimes they are not and sometimes she just likes to smack them right in your ribcage for fun...

In any case I felt the urge to come here and stop by and write a line or two, it seems it has been a bit more than that. I've decided to just put it all down and see where it will lead me. Probably, I wont be around again until a couple of months, maybe i'll be back here tomorrow. In any case, i'm glad I stopped by and that you did too, if there's anyone still there.

[moving in]

2010-08-11T07:27:00.000-07:00

i'm running with the ball, i don't know where it will lead me but i'm liking the road traveled so far.

i'm embracing the novelty of it all, the randomness, the early wakes up, the smell of coffee in the morning and the fresh cut fruit, the quiet days inside the house reorganizing, the housewife duties as i like to call them, and the bustling activity in the kitchen when its dinner time.

i haven't been outside since we arrived, i feel as if the reality of it all will come crashing in one single tsunami wave just to drench/soak me and sometimes i just want to take the baby steps and enjoy them, it makes the sweetness of it all last just a tad bit longer.

[help]

2010-07-17T12:56:00.000-07:00

blow by blow, i didn't see it coming or did i?

i thought i was over this, i thought i had chased this feeling, this draining clinging suffocating feeling, out of my system. i was wrong it seems. it rushes in constant waves and i've lost control, losing ground by the second and i am borderlining a major breakdown (seeing i've been having mini episodes every other day).

i rushed into a church today and i prayed for guidance. i dont remember the last time i did that, at least the church part. i feel i'm being pull apart from every single distance as the rope in a tug war and i'm not liking it. i just want to scream, run away, hide, whatever it takes for this feeling to go away. but i know this is not a permanent solution and i can't deal with temporary solutions any more, because i already suffered the consequences of them.

i did the one thing i had not done in such a long time as if i were a recurring addict and i feel so ashamed of myself, after so long. i thought i had learnt how to control it, i swear i did... but once it started i just couldn't keep it inside, the monster ripped away everything from within until my hands curled up in fists and then the unstoppable force met the unmovable objects... the pillow, the bed, the table, the wall... over and over again.

the sadness threatens to wrap itself around me and not let go, breaking me from the inside out, feeding itself from my weakness, my worries, my fears and i don't want it to.

someone make it stop, please...

T-2

2010-06-20T09:43:00.000-07:00

I like loving you, it is possibly my favorite thing to do or it's right in between reading amazing novels where I can just disappear for a day or two or listening to a never-ending stream of jazz. Maybe, just maybe, it's right next to my love for cooking and puppies. I think I like it just as much as that black guitar you got me or probably it's fighting to get the spot where my photography stands but I think your biggest battle is still to be fought with my stamp collection. Hmm... don't know yet... god, I even think I can do this for a living...

Yeah, I definitely think I can.

random

2010-05-16T08:25:00.000-07:00

It's been so long since the last time i wrote here or anywhere else for that matter, it seems as if everything is cluttered up inside, one on top of the other, senseless... it struggles to find a way out before it all implodes.

random thoughts

2010-03-18T16:45:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had anything weighting you down so heavily you could barely breathe and then, all of a sudden, it's no longer there and you feel strangy light, even empty. Just a few months ago I took probably one of the most important decisions ever and still to this day I quietly freak out when I least expect it. It is as if everything makes sense and then it doesn't and then it does again.

I do not regret ever taking this decision and if faced with the same opportunity again, I would've still done it... If there is something ever to regret is not saying it sooner. What did I gained with keeping it all to myself, hiding, literally closeting myself away? Nothing. Emptiness. Anger. Sadness. Now it is out in the open and I still have to thread thin because most of the times I feel I am walking in eggshells.

In the silence of my days I feel comfortable in my own skin and I think that makes it all worth it. Doesn't it?

[forgetfulness]

2010-02-26T10:43:00.000-08:00

I have forgotten how to write...

2010-01-17T10:42:00.000-08:00

Her hands are small, wrapped around mine. They are warm, and soft, and gentle.
Her arms are strong as they embrace me, never to let me go.
Her chest is where my head lays when I wake up, her heart seems to greet me with a skip of a beat. She shivers and my legs curl themselves around her.

Her shadow is my shadow, her warmth is my warmth, her body is mine and mine is hers. The same I know so well, the curves, the moles, the tan lines. The same body I can retrace without touching, without seeing, without feeling because it never leaves me.

She smells like a home should smell, like freshly made coffee and toast with butter, and rain.

2010-01-17T10:23:00.000-08:00

Slowly the walls are caving in, my mind drifting away, the doors closing one after the other and here i am, yet again. The voices laugh at me, somewhere someone(thing) asks: "oh, you actually thought you were getting rid of us?"... a hysterical laugh ecoes. I look around, I close my eyes, I wish secretly, many many times, to get out of here, I open my eyes again, I am here... right there, and I run, I run as if my life is on fire, I run, loosing ground I just can't stop. Bang! Another door, Puff! I hit the floor. My knees are scrapped. I stand and run, sloooosh! down yet again. Another hysterical laugh is inserted... No! I scream. No!No!No! Get out... I don't want you anymore!! Out!Out! ...

End.

I had a moment yesterday... the same I have been dragging on for days now. I feel I'm drowning. But I can't let it get to me, not now. Not after so much. Not with everything I have yet to do. I will not loose the same battle again, not again. Am I panicking? Am I loosing my ground? Am I sure that the voices are back? Yes. Yes. Yes. Do I need to find a way to make it all work again? To get my act together? Yes. Yes.

Easier said than done... but I'm on it. I am, I swear.

2009-12-18T08:28:00.000-08:00

¿Cuándo fue la última vez que escribí? Me pregunto curiosa y en voz baja, entre dientes, pues se la respuesta. La última vez que escribí fue esa, la última… hace días, semanas, meses, horas, minutos, segundos… hace demasiado creo.

Pero ahora que lo pienso la verdad no es que haya dejado de escribir, no, si nunca me detuve. He escrito novelas completas, secuelas, oraciones incompletas, ideas entrelazadas, pedazos, anécdotas, recuerdos. He escrito sonidos y olores, sensaciones, roces, abrazos, frío. He escrito en hojas invisibles, con plumas sin tinta, una y otra vez y sin descanso… Si, sin lugar a dudas nunca me dejado de escribir, solo es que deje de hacerlo visible. Deje de plasmarlo donde pudiera ser leído.

La razón, no sé. No creo que haya más razón que la incoherencia. Creo que no hay mas razones que la necesidad de que en mi cabeza las cosas se escribieran solas, sin intervención o participación alguna de mis manos. A su tiempo, sin presión, una a la vez, sin prisa, sin pausa, sin problemas técnicos.

Hoy me desperté con ganas de plasmarlo todo, una vez más, pues mis manos no se acostumbran al ocio. Les comento que ha nevado, que ayer fue la primera vez en todo el tiempo que he estado aquí. A que al despertar y mirar por mi ventana sentí un extraño sentimiento al verlo todo cubierto por un gigantesco faldón blanco. Algo hasta ahora sólo visto en las películas, y entre tanto frío algo se calentaba dentro, como si los pequeñísimos duendes que habitan en mi páncreas encendieron la chimenea interna (esa que en países tropicales no encienden hasta que llega la menopausia).

Y cayó la nieve y no se me ocurrió nada más que sacar la lengua para probarla… sabe a hielo picadito. No se rían, pensé que iba a tener un sabor extraordinario, quizás a nube o a solecito invernal, pero no… sólo sabe a hielo picadito. Engañada me pregunte, ¿Con qué así es la cosa? …

Hace frío, ese que da ganas de dormir sobre el radiador o entre aquellos brazos donde buscas y siempre encuentras, donde cabes como aquella última pieza del rompecabezas, donde de tanto caber ya el otro cuerpo ha cogido tu forma… ese del que no quieres despegarte y por el cual mandas al carajo tu rutina madrugadora. Ese del que deseas estar arropada de pies a cabeza (juro que es que hace demasiado frío)…

Tengo que trabajar… rutina que no se acaba y que no da descanso… pero ya este es el último del semestre y debe de quedas cuasi-perfecto, pero la perfección toma tiempo y detalle y no me permite escribir mas sin deshilachar el poco de coherencia con el que escribo estas líneas.

Me retiro antes de que sea muy tarde, prometiendo regresar.

2009-07-28T07:23:00.000-07:00

"And into that gate they shall enter, and in that house they shall dwell, where there shall be no Cloud nor Sun, no darkness nor dazzling, but one equal light, no noise nor silence, but one equal music, no fears nor hopes, but one equal possession, no foes nor friends, but one equal communion and Identity, no ends nor beginnings, but one equal eternity"
-In XXVI Sermons, John Donne
(quoted in: The Meaning of Night: A Confession, Michael Cox)

[welcome]

2009-07-24T12:19:00.000-07:00

Well hello, nice of you to stop by.

Do please take that look of awe away from your face, it is the same ol' blog of mine, I just dusted the corners a bit, put on a fresh coat of paint and took out the fancy linens and china. Now aint I the best hostess of them all?

Do please wander about, nothing much has changed, I really do promise that. There are buiscuits fresh out from the oven and lemon tea right down the hallway into the garden.

Feel free to drop a comment or two my way, I've always enjoyed straightfoward opinions and, what the heck, a compliment or two.

Now off you go, yes, down the hallway into the garden...

[overwhelming]

2009-07-20T08:18:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's too much too fast.

[micaela][olivia][antonia]

2009-07-20T07:11:00.000-07:00

i like the ring to it...
i definitely do.

2009-07-15T12:41:00.000-07:00

My oldest godson's birthday is tomorrow. I held him when he was a tiny little baby, I changed his diapers, I watch tv with him, I eat cornflakes with him and drink frozen fruit shakes, I laugh with him while we watch shrek together. I took him to his first day of school. I was the one the teacher spoke to first about the fact he talks to much in class... and about how she couldn't punish him because he simply is too adorable. We go to the supermarket together, we run around the house, we go out to the garden and run some more.

I haven't seen him in over two years...

I have never missed someone as terribly as I miss him. No one. Ever.

2009-07-15T12:08:00.000-07:00

Thought processing inside this hectic brain of mine has increased a notch or two during the past week or so. An increasing number of calculations, alongside numerous little notes written in the margins of the pages of my agenda have been checked, scratched away, highlighted or rewritten somewhere else. My days left on this side of the world are closing in on me... resembling those dangerous traps hidden away in long forgotten, sand filled, Egyptian pyramids, walls closing in on you until you are smooched as a water bug (oh the "water bug" mention in the pages of Thin Skin... if memory does not fail me I can recite out loud entire paragraphs of never ending wisdom).

Something inside of me reaches out and presses my chest until I have to stop midway and massage the skin above it. Tension is getting to me... I dare think out loud. Sleep quietly creeps on me on the most unexpected moments (e.g. in the middle of a dictation, my boss's voice thundering above me as he goes on, ignorant to my falling eyelids) but I can not rest.

Notwithstanding, I have almost finished all the last minute errands, back and forth I have gone, do this, do that, cancel this, buy this, sign here... But I worry sick for what I leave behind, will I be able to continue as the support system of half of my house once I am somewhere far away across the many seas? Anxiety quietly creeping in.

Someone mentions a good bye party, inquires about some sort of celebration. Something has to be done, of that there is no doubt, but I just drop it down in the back of my head... I can't make myself think about it, I have tried but no date seems appropriate no moment to soon or to far away. Someone plans something else for this weekend, I already have a full mental agenda, I smile and nod and promise I'll try to make it... I doubt I will.

I think of you and a warm feeling sweeps through me like a breeze. But you are still far away, and my mind knows it... threatening to rebel itself against the build up ache and scar tissue resulting from never ending distance. Dd blames this on the fact I am such a girl, underlining the "such" part. That I need to be constantly pampered and taken notice of, and paid attention to... not in the weird crazy way some are, no, but just a bit... going that extra mile. Maybe there is some truth behind that, and I smile at the thought.

Probably all this rattle is nothing more than the effects of heat, sticky, humid, shirts damp against your skin heat... it rains and the heat vapor makes you dizzy and clumsy. Loud drops of sweat hitting the pavement.

2009-07-08T13:48:00.000-07:00

On Friday I'll go pick my passport and visa as I'm leaving in a month and a handful of days. Something inside is quietly freaking out even if sometimes a calm washes over me for a second or two, quickly dissipating. However, I am here embracing change, opportunities, new surroundings, countless Sunday mornings, massive amount of information being crammed in already full to their normal capacity neurons, cheese, tulips, and mills. I am embracing them even if I hold on tight to what's going to be left behind.

2009-07-01T07:40:00.000-07:00

"This is among the few things that can be said about love with any confidence. It is small enough to be contained within the heart but, pulled thin, it would drape the entire world."
From The Wasted Vigil, Nadeem Aslam

[♥]

2009-06-26T13:14:00.000-07:00

Twelve months have passed since that longed embrace and awkward question in the stairs of an overcrowded mall surrounded by just too many precocious teenagers... twelve months since a silly smile wrapped itself around our faces never to come off... twelve months since we officially decided we would give it one more chance while we silently wished in every fallen eyelash, 11:11, and shooting star, that the chance would be well spent and that something good would come out of it all in the end.

And now, twelve months and four days later, I can officially say we made it through as now we silently embrace the ever-after.

[home]

2009-06-16T07:28:00.000-07:00

You feel like home [good and warm and cozy inside]
...and I wouldn't change it for anything.

[reach out]

2009-06-14T17:49:00.000-07:00

"Come love me Come heal me
Make me aware
(Reach out and hold me-or reach out and bite my hand)"

-One Eyed Chicken, Beth Hart

[falling]

2009-06-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

I looked up one last time as I felt the heavy droplets of rain thundering against my skin, soaking me wet. The thin mist of the growling river below wrapped itself around me softly... even tenderly I dare to think, as I fell slower than I thought I would through a thick cloud of fog. Before being gulped down to what was sure to be my imminent death I closed my eyes and breathed as the anxiety and adrenaline that pumped through my veins settled quietly. I thought of him, of his ragged shirt soaked in deep crimson blood, of his gaze lost against mine, looking and seeing through me, my bleeding hand holding his head closer to me, I thought of how my heart teared itself at that moment, how his was teared beyond repair, in those last few seconds before he finally looked at me, saw me, quietly and patient as he was always, his hand hold mine tight and for those last priceless seconds, last eternal seconds, I no longer heard the cries around me, the blows, the sounds of steel against steel against flesh, I could no longer smell the smoke or the smell of blood... I bent to kiss his lips, his star-eyed, his cheeks and he was gone, no longer breathing against me.
I opened my eyes again and the sky thundered alight, closer to the belly of the beast I thought yet not close enough... pain was washed away from me during that fall, the mist wrapping itself around me was colder, the fog thicker, I looked up and the rain washed over me, the thundering of the river was deafening now, and I thought of her and of them, and my heart teared yet once again inside my chest... and I was eaten by the river and its fog... one dry thump against the darkness.

[escaping]

2009-06-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

My legs seem to be quitting on me as the first droplets of sweat start to form on my forehead, as sweat starts soaking my shirt. I look back and there is only darkness (deep dark darkness) behind me but I can hear them, the dry hurried thumps of their feet far far away (far far away so close). I turn my head back to the road ahead, I am running so fast I am almost scared I will fly off... I run and my old stained converse are drenched from the puddles of water in the asphalt... the clouds above me light up from the lightnings and I stare towards them, unable to take my eyes away from them... it is like looking directly into the belly of the beast, I run, the breeze hits me straight on the face, I trip... head first against the wet slippery asphalt, a scream is locked inside my throat, I can see myself flying through the air towards my imminent disaster, I try to maneuver my body in a fraction of a half of a second... my right arm hits first, the rest of my body impacts against myself, against the asphalt a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of half a second later.

My eyes are shut, my heart throbs against my chest, I can't feel anything else aside from the wetness under me for a minute or so, I don't dare move... then the throbbing cramping pain starts and I scream against my will... I can feel the tears welling up against my closed eyelids (can eyes drown in tears? I wonder somewhere in the back of my head). I push myself to my back, trying to normalize my breathing as I fear hyperventilation. It is so cold around me, the cold pierces my bones, my broken bones, like tiny hot needles. I want to cry, I've never felt a pain like this... not a physical one at least, my brain throbs, my lungs hurt, I try to keep my eyes shut to make the pain disappear... it is not working. I try to relax, slowly opening my eyes and feel the salty stream of tears down my face, curling themselves in my ear lobes, a quiet moan escapes my lips, the sky lights up again and again I see myself staring at the belly of the beast... a thundering storm breaks out and just before the hard cold drops of rain fall around me, above me, through me... I can listen to their dry hurried running, to their boots against the puddles of water splashing the sets of legs next to them, their short breath after too long of a run, the eventual curse for the water about to fall. In that fraction of a fraction of a fraction of half a millisecond I push myself up, do not ask me with what strength, for I have no answer... adrenaline pumps against my veins... is this the ultimate sense of survival? I ask myself. I am certain my right arm is broken, a rib or two, my jacket is teared, my jean is scrapped as is my knee, bloody and wet... I pick my backpack, which seems to have flown off me and I run, run faster than I've ever ran before, not even then...

The rain falls hard against me, I fear I will fall again, I jump into the forest, praying I will find some shelter against the thick trees and the hammering rain. I can listen to them getting closer, branches break against their heavy footsteps and I curse my luck, I look back, there are shadows melting against the darkness, a think layer of fog starts to wrap itself around everything, I strain my eyes against the darkness behind me, they are closer and they know it, they are anxious, they are almost sure I am doomed and so am I, but I don't stop, I run and run, I can hear them talking, just behind me, I can see them from the corner of my eye and so can they... I am blinded against the fog, I am disoriented and feeling utterly sick, but I run, out of desperation I run, I'll kill myself before they even get the chance to... a second chance.

I close my eyes and I can see her, beaten and quiet and her gaze lost against the screams all around and I can see them and I open them again, tears fall down as I feel their cold icy breath at my neck, thunders light up the darkest of skies for a brief second and that's all it takes... I saw the edge of the forest and so did they... a hand grips tight against my jacket, which finally gives away, tearing...

I can listen to the curses from above, I can hear their footsteps at the edge as they stop almost over each other, pebbles falling down. A cold breeze washes over me, another thunder and the monstrous river lights up... I fall directly into the belly of the beast. One dry thump. Eyes closed against the darkness... I no longer feel the pain.

[thinking of you]

2009-05-29T06:58:00.000-07:00

[http://leloveimage.blogspot.com/]

[measuring up]

2009-05-27T06:30:00.000-07:00

“I have spent my years since Princeton, while at law school and in my various professional jobs, not feeling completely a part of the worlds I inhabit,” she said, adding that despite her accomplishments, “I am always looking over my shoulder wondering if I measure up.”

-Judge Sonia Sotomayor
[http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/27/us/politics/27websotomayor.html?_r=1&hp]

If that's her wondering if she measures up, where on earth do you leave the rest of us mere mortals?...

Either way, Judge Sotomayor... you so rock!

[getting used to]

2009-05-21T09:02:00.001-07:00

It's midnight, the air conditioner is too cold and you seem to have taken the blankets, all two of them, and I am left with an almost see-through sheet edging my hips and covering my legs. I turn around, my left side is numb, as it always is after a few hours of restless sleep, my eyes become used to the light darkness and I look at you, at the contours of your body, at the bulk of two warm blankets wrapped and tucked around you, I can't help but smile... while some neuron, somewhere inside my brain, is laughing out loud and I think to myself: I have to start getting used to this.

I move my body closer to yours, my right arm under the pillows, carefully unwrapping the blanket around you, my legs in between your legs, securely tucked in I lean my chest towards your back, my head on the pillow, breathing slowly on your neck. Your body rearranges itself, almost automatically, to find a perfect fit in mine, your arm looks for my arm until it wraps itself around you, my body heats itself with yours, I breathe in the smell of shampoo on your hair, still wet from a late shower, and the scent of sunburn calming aloe lotion on your back. I kiss your shoulders as I can feel your fingers locking in with mine, holding me close. And I think to myself: I think I could get used to this... I sure do.

[freaking out]

2009-05-18T07:24:00.000-07:00

Have you ever, in an orderly quiet fashion, slowly started to freak out? Have you ever noticed how you seem to be on your very last nerve but holding it in so well not a single soul can tell? Have you ever noticed how some body parts seem to twitch involuntarily just when you think you're going to break down right then and there and then you just don't, as if somehow it has been shut down (momentarily)? Have you? 'Cause that's exactly what I've been going through for the past couple of weeks (sans the two utterly blissful weeks i had, which were absolutely and without a shred of doubt amazing and mind blowing, and in which we could actually act as a couple separated only by inches of breeze, and sometimes not even separated at all, always together even if it was not more that pinkies holding together and not letting go while we spoke to different people on the table, while we laughed at the same jokes, while we sipped our drinks and looked at each other for a second or two just to be taken away again in conversation).

I am officially and without a doubt freaking out... quietly, keeping my senses in order, breathing as normally and evenly as possible, keeping my head on my hair (it has a tendency to start falling off during strenuous situations), but most importantly, keeping the allergic reaction under control, yes, you know which...

And why is it that I am freaking out, you may ask... it is a valid question after all. There is only one word for it... Masters ... Yes, I was admitted, yes, I got the scholarship, yes, I still have a bunch of things to finish, buy, pay, and obligations to cover before I leave, and heavens knows there is a growing list of things that the scholarship (which I am oh so very grateful for) does not cover and that I must or that it does, but I must cover first and then be reimbursed, which is ok with me, if only I had the way of covering it first... oh the ironies of life. I'm telling you, life has that sadistic undertone I don't seem to miss as often as one may imagine. And don't even get me started on airlines and plante tickets... those little #~€¬$%&/"!

I'm working on the issues, I am, on my own special way... yet it feels as if I'm building a house out of a deck of cards, and every time I add one more card I have to strain every single little piece of my body to such level, in order for the whole thing not to fall down. It feels so much, so fast, it seems to be smothering me just as quietly...

But there's always beauty on the breakdown... or so the song says.

[interesting]

2009-05-01T09:03:00.000-07:00

“The idea of living a multifarious identity is something that has always occurred to me to be absolutely the norm.” I ask her about her own identity. “How many ways do you want to split it?” she asks, “You could say that everyone, at any one time, is a mother, a lover, a daughter, a sister, a neighbor, a colleague, an antagonist…I’m no more exotic than anybody else.”

-Tilda Swinton
Amanda Fortini's "Hollywood's Exquisite Alien"... interview of Actress Tilda Swinton
http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2009-04-30/hollywoods-exquisite-alien/

[T-2]

2009-04-29T09:09:00.001-07:00

Hoy debería ser viernes...

[empty street]

2009-04-28T09:20:00.000-07:00

She is tense and quiet. I wonder if she has always been like this, tense as steel lines, troubled...
Her eyes look everywhere and nowhere, they go from one side to the other, almost to fast, almost preventing her from seeing anything but a blur of the scene before her, but she sees it well, she sees it all.

The wind has caught a loose strand of her hair, it plays with it for the shortest of moments until it drops it back across her face, as if bored. She looks towards something I cannot see, threateningly... her fists clench and unclench at her side, then she puts them back in her pockets, perhaps afraid of what they may do...

Her jaw is closed tight, the cold wind has picked up against our faces, I look away before something gets caught in my eye, she looks straight on, impassive. At an almost inhuman speed she tilts her head, as if trying to look beyond something, I swear something in her lightens, as if expecting, and then it disappears faster than it came to be. I look out in her direction, seemingly blind to whatever it is she sees or does not see, for that matter. I look down at my watch, we've been waiting in the same spot for over an hour now, the tip of my nose cold, my ears numb, my hands wrapped around something inside my pockets.

The wind is back, swirling around us as if bearing secrets she's dying to share. She looks towards the direction of the wind and looks back, as if irritated, she looks back to find the same emptiness, and her gaze falls towards the payment, I look towards her, I swear I can see her deep eyes welling with tears, she closes them for a second (a whole second) and I move towards her, her face barely an inch from mine, we stare at each other, her eyes are saddened and deeper, I move my head to her side, looking down, the cold wind impede our cheekbones from touching, she moves back. I stare back at her, not finding her gaze in mine anymore. But I keep looking at her, attentively, as if screaming at her to listen, to look at me.

She ultimately looks back at me, her face a mix of emotions, I have not stop looking at her, my eyes ask her to leave, let's go, I am tempted to say, back to the empty room, back to the chipping paint and the wide window from where we can see the rest of the city, back to the cold floors that remind me of granite floors and kerosene lamps, back to the dusty chairs. She looks down, for what seems eternity, and I take my stand to leave, picking my bag from the floor I take the first step that never actually steps against the pavement, as if caught in mid air. Without turning my body I look towards her, and she looks at me, clouded eyes welled with tears that will not fall, her eyes beg me to stay, her hands grips harder against my arm for a second (a whole second) and I close my eyes... my foot hasn't touched the pavement yet.

I feel her grip letting go, opening my eyes I touch the tip of her fingers with mine. Looking at her I finally put the foot against the pavement, a step away from her and I stand there. I will wait, but only for a little longer. Her body slackens, and her face seems somewhat calmer. I stare towards the empty street and so does she... there, we wait.

[unbelievable]

2009-04-27T08:54:00.000-07:00

I really don't think this little heart of mine can handle any more news, at least not as good as the one with which my current day started. I mean, it was really strained with the Rossalyn Higgins and Hillary R. Clinton encounters, hell, it almost stop beating right there! But then there is the fact that in less than 5 24-hour days you'll be here, like in the same time-zone, which is basically, hmm, you know, superb! However, something else happened, you see, I opened my email inbox just to find a mail with an attached document informing me that after careful evaluation from the Committee I had been granted the scholarship...

Of couse, all of this careful evaluation information and what not were actually read ten minutes after I had actually CPRed my heart back into beating...

The only thing I remember reading was the only word, in the three page letter, in bold format: Congratulations. That was all, not a single word more.

[a must read]

2009-04-22T09:07:00.000-07:00

"...but also from this aesthetic we’d been taught as children, that we could challenge bigotry, root for the “underdog,” and advocate for others’ rights because to not do so was unkind (also a first lesson in privilege)..."

"I suppose the takeaway lesson as a parent, and as someone who does believe in the value of all air-breathing, water-drinking earthlings, is how vital it is to teach these lessons to our kids, to expose them to the widest ranges of experiences and people and possibilities, so that the idea of loving the planet and all the things on it, the values of gender and racial justice, the aesthetic of kindness and mindfulness, prevails, becomes inherent in them. Positive social pressure. So that racist, homophobic, ableist, sexist bullying, the kind of bullying that lasts for bully and bullied long past the playground, is socially isolated and squashed by authorities and peers alike."

"Air-Breathing, Water-Drinking Earthlings"
http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2009/04/22/earthlings/#comment-238152

[T-10]

2009-04-20T08:49:00.000-07:00

It is precisely at this point
when the waiting becomes unbearable.

[memento mori]

2009-04-17T14:08:00.000-07:00

I just found out that the brother of an old friend died a couple of days ago from a heart attack, he left behind a beautiful daughter and a loving family and good friends that cared for him dearly. The news arrived in a facebook message my friend sent, she's devastated and I can't find her "·$%&@ phone number to call and just make her company at the other side of the line, even if I truly don't have anything even half reassuring to say.

I am sadden and terrified. We where more or less the same age, give or take a year or two, and we were not the closest of friends, truth is we hadn't spoken in a while, but we acknowledged each other's presence one could say, he was fun and loud and always on the phone when I needed to talk to his sister.

And all this has put the train of thought in my head in motion, I made one long distance phone call to my partner-in-crime just to say how much I love her, I was speaking (actually, it was more of a bitching and moaning session about life in general) with Machiné at the moment of the news and I told her how truly lucky we are even if we don't think that or feel that way or even if we think nobody gives a rat ass for us, because at least we do, even if only for each other, and that is enough even if we think it isn't.

I am not the most expressive person when it comes to feelings, yes, I am a sensible kid, yes, I can break out and cry at any unexpected moment, yes, I can feel very very angry out of any slight encouragement, or yes, I can be exuberantly happy just because. But its not normal for me to just go around saying "i love you" or "i care for you" or "thank you for existing" or even "thank you for reading my blog and keeping in touch", we're like that at home also, we acknowledge the love we feel for each other (in a very passive-aggressive way) but we won't express it much. Hell, usually when C, one of my BFF, hugs me I push him away and call him an "idiot", just for him to know how much I care. That's my way, and its ok, I don't think that'll be changing any time soon...

But still, I am terrified. I have lost people (friends and family) close to me before without a single notice (death has that bit of a nuance, not giving an early notice), and I dealt with it ok (in my own version of ok, that is). However, as a result of the present case, my body is going bezerk with emotions, how easy is for one to lose another, out of the blue, as a consequence of an accident, or illness, or a $%&/(@ heart-attack...

There's people around me I don't think in any other way than as immortals, I can't even start imagining my life without them because I hope that God or whoever is up there is not going to play that trick on me. I know one has to live life, and that God acts in mysterious ways, and blah, blah, but right now I'm not buying it. Right now I wish I could be having the drink I've planned so much for with that friend, or playing with my god sons and listen to them chatter about god knows what, or kissing some, or hugging a friend who I haven't seen in a long time, or talking with my dad/fighting with my sister/watching TV with my mom, or just have dinner and a movie with my three amigos... but lately I'm so busy with work and personal stuff I never have any free time or energy to go out, I'm just scared it will be to late at some point...

Lost is such an awkward feeling.
Nassim, you will live on in our hearts forever, may you find rest...

Ps. Fellow readers, thank you for putting up with my writings.

[wanting to be like her when i grow up]

2009-04-17T14:05:00.001-07:00

"In a diverse hemisphere, one size does not fit all"
-Hillary R. Clinton

[oh yes i am]

2009-04-16T09:20:00.001-07:00

Have you ever had the chance to receive one of those pieces of news that are just to good to be true, and that they just seem to have been dropped right in your lap from somewhere up up in the sky you really can't tell where?

Well, the fact that I am meeting (that is, breathing the same air she's breathing... listening to her speak right there in front of me) madame Secretary of State Hillary R. Clinton (incredible, marvelous, OMG-you-got-to-be-kidding-me, wow, awesome) seems to fit the too-good-to-be-true piece of news standard.

It's too much, she rocks and I, well, I sort of kindda worship her... I don't think I felt this giddy inside when I met Koffi Annan. Although, I must be honest, this is nothing compared to when I actually saw, spoke to, shook hands, drooled a bit (oh wait, that was not something i had to mention), and had a photograph taken with Her Excellency, Madame Rossalyn Higgins (ex president of the ICJ) ... I know you can tell it by now, I am a geek (Geeks of the World Unite!)... but still, I don't think my heart can actually beat any faster.

It's been a hectic couple of days, but I just can't wait for tomorrow.

[stressing]

2009-04-13T12:06:00.000-07:00

breathe in / breathe out
.1.2.3.4.5.
breathe in / breathe out
.6.7.8.9.10.
breathe in / breathe out

[scent]

2009-04-08T08:15:00.000-07:00

She sits across from me, her arms around her legs as if afraid they would run off on their own, her head on her knees, a strand of hair falls quietly across her face. We stare at each other, although I am sure she is not staring at me, I am just a mass in space in the middle of her line of sight, but she continues to stare and I stare back, wondering, questioning, impatient. Is she looking at me? I dare wonder. She is bored, she looks away. I drop my stare to the asphalt, as if sadden (hurt).

I stare at my hands, at the lines in my hand, at my nails, at its cuticles. I close my hands, and it hurts, my hands hurts. I open them and look at them again, I retrace the contours, a scar or two, the dry spot in the palm, touch the tip of my fingers with the tip of my thumb, I close my eyes and for a second (half of a second, half of a half of a half of a second) I remember how you kissed them while we drove for hours. I open my eyes, scared, tears seem to well in them, I wipe them with the back of my hands before any greater damage is done. I look up and there she is, staring back at me, interested, she tilts her head as if to look at me at a different angle and I swear she smiles (I swear I can listen to her thoughts smile). I look down, I do not want to look at her, I just want to look back at my hands, the tip of my fingers against my thumb and I dare close my eyes again, for less than a second (half of a half second) and you're back, I can't see your face but I can listen to you laughter, clearly, as if next to me, my hands in yours, then a blur, I can't see anything but darkness, I try to look beyond it, there is nothing else, nothing else than silence, dark deep silence.

I open my eyes again and there she is, her sitting body barely an inch away from mine, she still stares, I can't bare look at her anymore, I look down at my open palms. She puts her hands underneath mine, I don't dare move, she lifts them and puts her face in the cup of my palms, and breathes in, aspires every single drop of air locked in the pores of my hands, of my wrists, of my arms, of my shoulders. My body tightens, I wish I could scream, make her stop, my body at the edge of collapse, I cannot move, talk, think. She breathes it all in, layers of scent (layers and layers).

Seconds pass (a million seconds pass) and she stops, quite abruptly, and I feel my body slacken just to find her looking at me, my hands still above hers, not touching anymore. She kneels and her body moves towards me, her face close to my face, the falling strand of hair against my cheek (never really touching). Her lips too close to my ear, her breath cold, I can listen to her lips parting against my ear, my body tenses again when the quietest of whispers escape them: "it is still there, the scent is still there, it has not escaped nor does it want too, it will now leave you, it will remain".

I close my eyes while she speaks and then there is silence. I swear I can hear you laugh again. There is still darkness around me and then there is silence. I open my eyes, she is sitting across from me again, gazing down at something miles away, across trees, and people, and buildings, and darkness. I look towards her and I smile. You have not left me I think to myself and I smile at the thought, I cover my face with my palms and I breathe in...

[mindless in the airport]

2009-04-07T12:45:00.000-07:00

For an awful number of times in less than two weeks I had to take my coat, belt, watch, coins, passport, sneakers, dignity (oh wait, that is not part of this list) and place it all in a plastic box and into the scanning belt while I went through numerous immigration procedures. I was out of the country for the greater part of the past two weeks, up to my neck in work...

A lot has gone through this hectic head of mine during the long hours of wait in the airport, the checking in, the transfers, the tiredness, the fact that I'm too long to sit in those awful plane seats, the complimentary peanuts...

I was unable to sleep for more than 10 or 15 minutes (every so often) during the flights, which I normally don't do (I am a faithful flight sleeper). I guess it was because I was to tired, to uncomfortable, next to me constant chatter, behind me one just as uncomfortable as myself shifts repeatedly in his chair, a baby cries for a minute and the captain puts on the seat belt sign.

I need to pee. I hate peeing in planes. But I need to pee, my bladder commands so. I stand up, luckily I sit in the corridor (is that how you call it?). I walk and my body aches, my neck, my back, my legs enjoy the movement but my fingers are somewhat numb.

I wash my face with the cold water, my skin startles at the temperature, I can sense the line outside the bathroom door growing as the plane rattles against the clouds, thick gray clouds. I look at myself in the mirror, thick shadows beneath my eyes, and I look a bit to yellow for my taste (when was the last time I went to the beach, I ask myself?)

My stomach growls while I step out of the bathroom, someone eyes me suspiciously, I am just hungry (damn you, complimentary peanuts!)... a half eaten sandwich awaits patiently in my carry-on bag.

Back in my seat I rest my head against the head-rest and I close my eyes (a second of darkness, then a constant and incoherent flutter of images), I open them again, I can't deal with the flutter right now (I never can). My lips are dry, my hands are dry. I think of you. I look to the person sitting in the row next to mine (at the other side of the corridor), he/she (I do not recall) reads something, I wish I could read with them but then I am uninterested, just like that.

Next to me people chatter, the window thingy is closed, someone somewhere half opens their own shade but it's too bright outside, they close it. I yawn and try to find a comfortable position to stay still in for more than 20 minutes, and I think of you, of how my head perfectly fits on that little dent in your shoulder blade, of how my hands wouldn't feel so numb if you're holding them, of how easy sleep would come 30,000 feet up in the sky next to you, breathing easily in my neck, while you're watching the movie or dozing off yourself.

The landing was hectic, all ten times. I yawn, I am tired, my mind seems to have logged off a while ago, my body moves with me through inertia. I look around me, a mass of bodies wait impatiently to get out of the plane. I think of you, while I pull out my carry-on from the overhead compartments, or while I ask myself why my transfer gate seems to be so freaking far away just to realize I've been going the wrong way for the past 10 minutes. I think of you while the couple in front of me waiting to board hold hands...I look out the window, the sky is foggy and shy droplets of rain fall from the heavens, I touch the window pane and it's cold, I dread the fact I have just a light coat to shield me from that temperature.

From the airline counter someone starts calling out the rows, a line starts forming. I pick up my bag and sit at the edge of the chair, from there on I wait...

[waiting]

2009-03-20T07:53:00.000-07:00

So I confirmed my place in the Leiden program, now I wait...

[it is needless to say I am terrified]

[beauty in the breakdown]

2009-03-19T09:11:00.000-07:00

Don't know yourself, but I could use a breather...

[silence]

2009-03-16T15:31:00.000-07:00

We are surrounded by silence. Standing next to each other our shoulders are almost touching (but never really managing to do so). Her eyes wander from one place to another, in a constant rapid pace, for there is no silence in her, and she knows I know there isn't. Her mind is hammering incessantly, continuous babbling, little monsters rearranging the boxes in her head, there are so loud I swear I can listen to them, whispers that seem to scream against the silence, screaming as little whiny brats. She looks at me, for a second (half a second, half of a half of a half of a second), her eyes beg me to quiet them, nothing else, just her eyes, her body is as it always is...tense. Tense as steel lines. I try to get close to her, but she seems to escape, I am always unable to touch her, a step forward from me is a step backwards from her, and viceversa (has she ever tried? to be close? I can't seem to recall).

Her eyes look at something beyond my own mortal reach, I don't even try to follow her gaze and I sit in the cold floor, so cold I can't stop being startled and she looks down at me, as if disapproving, as if I had to know the floor was to cold, as if I had to be immune to the coldness. She goes back to looking and with every other blink of my eyelids I can listen to the screams in her head, as quiet little whispers in my brain. She looks tired, the shadows around her eyes are deeper, has she slept anything since last time? I wonder. She rests the back of her head against the damp wall, she lets the tense steel lines across her body relax for a second (half a second, half of a half of a half of a second), the tip of her fingers are so close to my shoulder, so close they never ever touch, the invisible barrier against us.

I can feel tiny little sweat drops building up in the back of my head, it is too cold to be sweating, I think to myself, but everything around her is so strange I am not surprised, I only wonder. I look up at her, her eyes are closed and her face is oddly calm, as if in the middle of a personal introspection, her shoulders slacken and she takes a deep breath without actually moving, she fills her lungs with the air she steals from my surrounding, she does that every so often... take everything in, everything. A strand of hair in her face.

I stare at the emptiness of the room, of the painting chipping in some places, at the accumulated dust and cobwebs. The cold floor reminds me of my childhood, at my old apartment and its granite floors. If I close my eyes long enough I can picture myself back there, the living room, the dinning room, the kitchen, the hallway to the rooms. If it was hot and there was no light aside from that of the kerosene lamps due to yet another eternal blackout, if I was tired from playing with myself and my imaginary friends, if I was sleepy for sleep that would hardly come (oh, insomnia), then I would lay in that granite floor that would spread for miles before my eyes, my face against it, the palms of my hands against it, the skin of my legs against it, it was always cold, so cold I couldn't really stand up from it by my own free will and I would just stay there...

I am woken up by the absoluteness of the silence around us, my eyes need a second to adjust to the darkness, for a second I don't dare move... I am still laying in the granite floors, I can still hear someone speaking, I can still see the dim light of the kerosene lamps... I know I sit alone, she is not next to me, I look up and across the room, a silhouette stares out the window, there is silence, no more whispers, the monsters have ceased their rattle... I presume.

I stand, my limbs ache from the hours sitting in such uncomfortable positions I walk towards her, looking out the window there is nothing but an empty street and the distant falling darkness, I look at her and she looks back for a second (half a second, half of a half of a half of a second), she is tired, and she knows I know she is. I walk away from her, and she follows, out the room and down the stairs...

[it all started with a horse]

2009-03-16T07:48:00.001-07:00

I'm looking for the horse, head stuck out the window, eyes wide open grasping every inch of the field in front of them.
I'm looking for it, I swear I am...

2009-03-11T13:53:00.000-07:00

I've had a hard couple of days, the sickness that seems to be entangled in every single inch of my self is really putting on a fight (damn you cross contamination!) and I really don't feel like getting out of bed...

In addition, there's Jessup, and work, and $%¿#¡? distance, and other issues which have been hammering my brain with such intensity that last night I went to the gym, to which I hadn't been for quite a while (blame it on my busy schedule and out-of-money experiences), but I got myself back on the stretch fabric and on intense cardio training. At some point I thought I was going to faint, being sick and exercising are not good options, but I kept on and let go off some of the tension building on so thick around my back it's not even funny.

It was not enough, I'm not feeling very people-person lately (not that I've ever been), and I really truly just want to stay in bed, curled tight under the sheets, sappy movies on mute, and the possibility of sleeping continously and without interruptions for more than just a couple of hours.

[still sick]

2009-03-09T09:15:00.000-07:00

I am still teary-eyed, runny nose, freezing cold sick... I managed to feel better some days ago, but the germs are persistent... the virus is still running through every single dash of health inside me and eating it up, like fresh brain matter for zombies (i know, not a pretty picture).

And I wish I would just get home and find you reading the newspaper or god knows what else on the internet, your glasses haphazardly set on the tip of your nose, while loads of paperwork from last week's meeting are scattered all around the bed. I manage to take my shoes off and just free-fall in the rather small side of the bed which remains slightly uncovered from your office papers and charts and excel sheets, not without sneezing half a dozen times in between hello and free-falling. You ask if I'm ok, just to hear me "umju hmm" answer you back.

At some point, after I must've sneezed half of my brain out and I've pulled on the bed sheets until I manage to wrap myself tight like a burrito, you close the laptop and place it in the floor besides the bed, manage to pick up all your papers and documents, and just throw your arms around me. I warn about contamination of your health system and you say you don't care. With my head sunk in the pillow and your arms holding me tight I smile...

[WOOHOO]

2009-03-03T08:01:00.000-08:00

WOOHOO, sickness aside, I am in awe... I don't think so much happiness could fit in this body of mine. I just received my admittance letter from NYU!
Oh My Freaking God I SO ROCK!

[sick]

2009-03-03T06:30:00.000-08:00

I'm cold and I'm sick (like teary-eyed sick) and I'm sleepy and I'm stuck in the office (this freezing freezing office) and I wish I would be in bed, sheets up to my neck, wrapped like a tight burrito at a tex mex party.

During most part of the night I woke up sweating, I turned and rolled over, and turned again, my head was hammering. I did not get much rest. My hands are dry, the corners of my lips are dry, my throat is dry (like a long hot-desert-road-sun-to-bright-against-your-delicate-eyes dry... it hurts to swallow).

I wish I would be in bed, and you're there with one of those silly faces you put on, and I smile and laugh (because it's funny... because you always make me smile) but it hurts, my throat aches against the almost imaginary movements of my vocal cords, I turn my face and try to wrap the sheets closer to me, why is it so cold? my feet are freezing.

It was hard to get out of bed this morning, it took me forever, it took the pup's constant barking, and pulling on the sheets, and jumping incesantly in the bed to get me out of bed. The pillowcase was still wet with sweat, my neck, the last strands of hair...

The shower was cold, it woke me up (briefly)... I wrapped myself against the towel, I saw my working clothes and I wish I could put my pjs on and hit the bed again. I had oatmeal, so my insides could warm up... the oatmeal was scratchy against my throat.

I am at the office, there's a pile of papers staring back at me (they tend to do that) but I don't stare back at them, I can barely focus. I want to go home, wrap myself tight against the sheets, cut off my throat and put it in a glass of water... till its mooshy and soft again, like a summer breeze.

[cookies]

2009-03-02T12:42:00.000-08:00

She's the first one out of the car, she stops and stares at the little red flowers, she touches them with the tip of her finger and then she runs to the door. She must be eight or ten, give or take, she is tall for her age as she rings the doorbell by herself, she hears people inside, talking, laughing. Her medium brown hair falls down in two or three deep curls, she has bottle-end glasses of a baby-blue rim, and big front teeths in a wide smile. She's wearing black (or are they white, I don't remember now) boots, one of the laces threatens silently to untie itself at any moment. The door opens and she hugs the man at the door, she walks (half running) to where most of the chatter comes from, everyone shifts their attention to her, old ladies all around her, her aunts and her grandma, she smiles and someone plants a kiss on her cheek, somebody asks her something, she nods and walks out to the next part of the house where old men are, her uncles, her aunt is also there, more kisses are planted on her cheek, there are pots in the stove and someone is looking at something in the oven. The ice on her uncle's drink go click clack against the glass, someone pours a bit more rum in it, she smiles at his bowtie, she loves it...
Then, she goes out to the patio, the dogs greet her lovingly, she goes down the stairs and into the trees and the grass, her uncle has new fishes in the fishbowls, she stares, puts her hand in them and colorful little fishes swim through it, they're ticklish, she laughs... one of the dogs jump incesantly next to her, they want to play. She runs all around, she talks to her imaginary friends, the hair is a little sweaty and frizzy, someone is calling her... she goes up the stairs and back to the old people she loves, and then her grandma calls her to her side and whispers at something in her ear, her eyes glow and she smiles, she walks (almost running) out and back to the old men, she reaches the cupboard and opens, she lifts her gaze and indeed a package of cookies is there just for her, she loves those cookies (she still does), she raises her hand and she feels the package against her fingers, she can even hear the noises it makes against the background of men discussing about something (politics, maybe?), she's almost there, she can feel it, she's in the tip of her toes already...
She's back in the room with the old ladies, they talk ... chit chat... endlessly, she smiles and nods at them while one of the dog looks with begging eyes at her, she has some crumbles on her dress and the dog knows it, she stands and the crumbles fall down as if rain to the floor. The dog waves its tail and she smiles as the last cookie crumbles in her mouth.

She is twenty-two now, the hair still falls in the deep curls and the bottle-rim glasses are gone, so are the big front teeths. There are no boots in her feet, just her black ol' converse, the laces are silently threating to untie themselves at any moment. She rings the doorbell, she doesn't hear much talking inside, the door is openned and she hugs the man at the door, she walks into the room, only her uncle is there, the tv is on or is it the radio?, her grandma is no longer there. She says hello to the old dogs, they still wave their tails at her but they don't jump incesantly, there are new fishes in the fishbowl, she stares at them no longer putting her hand in the water, she walks back in and sits in front of the cupboard, she dares stand up and open the door, she no longer has to stand in the tip of her toes, the cupboard is slightly empty but it is still there, an unopened package of the cookies is in the cupboard, she smiles as she puts her hand on top of it, her fingers touch the wrapping and she listens to the noise it makes against...against the silence. She closes the door and goes back to the room, someone talks to her and she nods, she smiles knowingly and she nods.

[forgiveness]

2009-02-26T05:59:00.000-08:00

...The girl wipes the small little sweat drops that were bulding up around her forehead for the past couple of hours with the back of her hand, she whistles heartedly, the way one does after you have been assured that what you feared the most will not happen, a weight seems to have been lifted from her, and for that she is thankfull. Her body seems more relaxed, and although there is still tension around her upper back, up to her neck, spreading silently through the back of her head as a deeply intricated cobweb, the one tension she dreaded desperately for the past couple of months is now gone.

I look at her, straight in the face, she stares somewhere else... at something across the room, I am not able to follow her gaze, it seems to go beyond what my own mortal eyes can stare at, I try, hard, until the uggly hairy head of a headache start poking its little narrow evil eyes at me, then I stop. I go back to looking at her, she has grown older it seems, her hands seem drier thanthe last time, her hair falls down in one deep curl. She doesn't look back at me, even if her eyes are looking straight at mine, she seems lost in deep troubled thoughts, below her eyes a deep shadow seems to be uncovering itself, a product of sleepless night, she drifts her eyes away from mine. We sit across each other in a deep silence, at some point she has finally realized what happened, the meaning of it all, and she looks at the palm of her hand, the one she used to wipe the sweat drops from her forehead, she closes her eyes, her shoulders slacken for a second, she takes a deep breath, and she stands up, walking away from me and our surrounding, out the door and down the stairs, as if, finally, she can breathe more easily, even if only for a day or two.

[sunday morning]

2009-02-24T11:15:00.000-08:00

...Of all the Monday through Fridays
We joined the crusade
Of all the Saturday nights
In which we were made
Of all the exorcisms
I've done with your ghosts
Still it's Sunday morning
I miss you the most...

Sunday Morning
-Ani Difranco

2009-02-24T08:41:00.000-08:00

Lately I feel I've been carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, pushing me down towards the hot asphalt against every shred of will power inside me. I push back, I swear, I scream, and kick, and bite, and pull myself up and walk, but every few steps I'm almost there again, my face against the heat, sweat building up around my face, down my neck.

[scared]

2009-02-23T12:41:00.000-08:00

Fine. I am scared. It happens. I don't know what to do... I don't even know what I'm doing. What if I don't get it? What if then? I have these brief anxiety attacks every so often, it's been so long since the last time I had one of those I almost (almost) forgot how they felt, how to deal with them (as if I ever learned) and yes, I am dealing with them, in a coherent and sane manner, but still. I am scared (shitless). Maybe, for the rest of the world it isn't a big deal, but for me it is. It just is...

2009-02-18T11:57:00.000-08:00

My head is buzzing with thoughts, nothing strange really... I know, I am aware of my circumstances (as Ortega & Gasset once was). I am at the office and there are several documents lingering around the desk, staring back at me with anxious little eyes. And I stare back at them, blank. There's nothing I can do, nothing the documents and I can share, I am waiting, just as much as they are, for the messenger to storm into the office with a pile of papers from court. I need those papers, to add to the papers in my desk, to take, yet again, to court. So we just stare at each other... incoherently and in agnst.

Aside from that, I received my admittance letter (the physical version of it, that is) from one of the universities I applied to. I just love the mail, yes, I collect stamps... you have infered wisely my old friend... but the point is, I do, I love to receive the mail (minus the bills, of course). I don't receive much mail anymore (those years of pen-pals are long gone) though, so its nice to receive a post card every so often... Anyhoo... the admittance letter is staring back at me too, along with all the other documents in my desk and I had to send my confirmation two days ago, I didn't, but I did write to the university requesting a bit more time, you see, I need to magically find a shitload of money with my name on it (now, where is that end of the rainbow when one needs it?). And then again, I haven't heard from the scholarships, which I will, eventually... argh! I hate to wait. The days are long enough already for me to add waiting. I don't even have much patience to begin with, gosh, I don't even have a particularly long attention span, which is bad for the lawyer business (specially, when you have to keep up with the incoherences the other lawyer is babbling on about).

On a brighter note, however, I have been reading quite a bit lately. I have these dry spans in which a mountain of unread books sits beside my bed, or around the room, or in very odd places (as my closet, under a mountain of tshirts and sweaters) and I never touch them, they are just there, lingering. Personally, I've always been an avid reader, and I read mostly everything, in addition I have the advantage of being completely billingual, which leads to reading an impressive array of books in either English or Spanish, which is always good. I enjoy fiction mostly, and certain bits of poetry, but I also love non-fiction, and yes, I am a fan of young adults books and Potter, and Narnia, and Spiderwick, and Vampire Chronicles, and graphic novels, and all that dash of fantasy when I need to escape the real world I dread so much sometimes.

So yes, I have these dry spans every couple of weeks, that seem to last for ages, and then my whole brain goes bezerk and turbo on me and I read three or four books in less than a month, and I'm so entrapped in all of them, that when I try to go back and remember I hit a blank. Later on I do remember, however, but its much much later, which is all a direct consequence of my father's desires to push the fountain of prodigy that my child brain was (when I was, that is, a child) down and abyss. You see, I was a prodigy kid, no, I couldn't play the piano when I was five, nor solve complex mathematical problems, but I could memorize, entire poems and excerpts and things like that (way before I even knew how to read). My father would read Lorca's poems outloud, constantly, and I would memorize them, every bit of it. He would push for me to learn them, which I loved, but eventually my mind stopped memorizing, it just said enough and stopped. Now I can't even memorize a phone number...

Sadly, I couldn't become rich on my prodigious (not a clue how you write that) self but I do enjoy reading particular books more than once, there's always something new to discover. And I just love the smell of new books, I put my nose to the pages and aspire...
So its ok...

Also, on a bright yellow post-it note, I must add that I have jumanji-like butterflies coming out of my ears lately. For distance may be shortening in a month or two (or three) and there's this visit, which has me counting down the days like if I where in a prision and Its all good... every bit of it... all good.

I think I must go back to work now, and stare...

[love will find a way]

2009-02-13T11:54:00.000-08:00

[www.boldloft.com]

[distance]

2009-02-12T06:12:00.000-08:00

Distance is the third wheel in long distance relationships. She's a good friend when the relationship you're in isn't really going like it should, but when it actually is, it's a freaking headache!

Let's take today as an example. I am "busy" at work (but I have magically managed to find a few minutes to blog), but I just don't feel like working... Adrenaline is pumping out of my ears and if a continent, an ocean, a bunch of people, and 5 (or is it 6?... are you still in daylight saving?) hours of difference wouldn't be physically separating us from each other I would be dragging you out of your office and we would go do something, I don't know, stuff. Go to the beach or just drive around the city, buy yogurt ice-cream, have a really long lunch (yes, in that order) and talk, and around 5 go to the movies and maybe watch an animated film and hold hands in a movie theater full of 5 and 7 year-old kids and their nannies, and buy pop corn and then you put your arm around me with some silly yawning-move and it just falls perfectly in my shoulder, and my head on yours and we laugh out loud with the kids and when the movie finally ends we'll walk around the mall, call up some friends (who are actually working) and meet somewhere for a drink or two.

Hmm, I would definitely drag you out of the office today for that...
I.MISS.YOU.

[private schools]

2009-02-11T12:04:00.000-08:00

I was just reading an article in The Daily Beast (http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2009-02-11/private-school-parents-confess/) about parents freaking out with private schools for their kids. Personally, i'm a bilingual private school graduate, and I am utterly thankful that my mother worked her behind off to provide for me and my sister an education in one of my country's private schools, but then again, public schools in my country are not as good as those in the US (not that those are THAT good either, but you get my point).

And I was thinking about that moment, seven or eight years from now when we'll be school-shopping, 'cause trust me, I'm not expecting for my kids anything less than what I had the opportunity to endure (no pun intended), and partner-in-crime and I will have endless discussions of which school, and which program, and what has what (sports, music, and arts programs are a must!) and what would the kids really want, or advanced classes. God only knows. And then I imagine the interviews, ja! we, the "different family", we'll be babbling (and babbling, and babbling), and the admissions director will be looking at us funny, and making notes, and with the corner of her eyes she will try to understand why our little one knows how to make really complicated stuff with the building blocks, or actually put pieces in the puzzle the interview lady has had a week trying to complete, or why on earth she stares at the books in the shelves so attentively.

What on earth could be crossing her mind... notes being scribbled continously in her writing pad: "smart child" "parents don't shut up" "child takes a book in her hands, looks at the pages attentively" "parents talk about work, and extra curricular programs" "child laughs at herself, laughs at something outside" "parents are renowned international lawyers" (oh common, give me credit we need to pay the school somehow!) "child seems to smart for her age, quiet" "child reaches for her bag, takes out book and crayons, starts coloring" "parents have not stop babbling". Then it will be the play-date moment, and the notes would probably come out as: "child plays well with others, shares" "child look up at the sky attentively, as if figuring things out on her own... odd" "parents are looking out the window at child, still talking".

Yes, I imagine that's how things will go about. And yes, the "child" will get in, that is without a doubt (the future has told me so).

[déjà vu]

2009-02-11T11:53:00.000-08:00

"Nunca se despierta cuando me aprieto contra él,
sólo cuando me despego;

está acostumbrado a mi cuerpo, mi insomnio y mis pesadillas."
De La Suma de los Días
- Isabel Allende

2009-02-10T13:09:00.000-08:00

Lately I feel someone upstairs (up up in the heavens) is remote controlling my life. Couple of months ago my life (concerning masters applications, family situations, work related, and what not) was on a pause-going-on-stop velocity, lately, and after the reception of a very positive omg-they-finally-answered response by one of the universities I applied for my masters things seem to be going fast-forward x4. And it’s not only the fact I need to magically find a hideous amount of money (end of the rainbow maybe?) just to confirm my participation in the program (aside from the scholarship, of which they still haven’t done the final selection), but the fact that everything else in my life seems to be going bezerk (not sure if that is how you write it lately).

I have money issues up to my neck, family situations are strained, , a bigger work load –without anything close to a raise-, a series of obligations aside from my job (Jessup, MUN), furthermore there’s the social life that currently is in inexistence, and the dreadful fact that has been banging me against the wall of me having to ask yet another loan, a situation pretty nerve-racking as it is.

Sleeping hasn't come easily in the past few days, as you may imagine… and the train of thought is ongoing and incoherent… I’m trying to keep it positive, good vibe running around my mind and body, but I can’t stop imagining all the worst-case scenarios and I'm still not sure how I will manage.

On the other hand' there's this great relationship which I share with the most amazing person in the world and sometimes I seem lost in the conversations because I’m going up the wall with all of this. And yes, there’s always a bunch of help offered on the other side, but I just want to do this on my own (don’t get me wrong, it’s not in a bad sense, it’s just in this really personal goal and challenge I have set for myself sense), and I don't seem able to do so, and I hate that.

And don't even get me started about work, have you ever had the feeling your really aren't cut out to do something? Lately I feel that way, there is nothing I do that isn’t modified, changed, and called in for. I am really wondering where four years of legal education went? Down the mental drain it seems...

I have a constant headache with all of this, I get home so emotionally drained I just take a shower and crash, and I know I should be doing everything but procrastinating but it just doesn’t come out. And then I get these little signs out of nowhere that really make my day, like Machiné’s comment of the little kid she’s doing some legal paper-works for who happens to look just like out future kid would hopefully look like or those eternal words of wisdom all wrapped around late-night-showers ivory soap:

"Complicating life is easy. The genius is in the simple things"

[love will prevail]

2009-02-06T11:31:00.000-08:00

So I found this in one of the oh-so-many blogs I read, and I just loved it, I got all teary eyed and all.

"Fidelity": Don't Divorce... from Courage Campaign on Vimeo.

I mean, I don't know what your personal views on the matter are but I respect them even if I may not accept them, however, this video is just amazing, specially the work that Courage Campaign is doing against K. Starr who filed a legal brief that would forcibly divorce 18,000 same-sex couples that were married in California last year before the passage of Prop 8.

Notwithstanding the result, love will prevail.
That, I know.

[random thought]

2009-02-03T08:11:00.000-08:00

Is there something as too much happiness?

[waiting]

2009-01-29T11:52:00.000-08:00

It's official.
I've FedEx every single document, application, transcript, letter of recomendation, personal statement, and god knows what else.
Now, I wait.

[thoughts]

2009-01-29T05:43:00.000-08:00

"We are all, Esme decides, just vessels through which identities pass: we are lent features, gestures, habits, then we hand them on. Nothing is our own. We begin in the world as anagrams of our antecedents"

From The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox
-Maggie O'Farrell

2009-01-23T08:11:00.001-08:00

These past couple of days I've been happy, not that I haven't been particularly happy in the past couple of months, but lately I've been remarkably happy. Consequence, without a doubt, of an amazing piece of news I will eventually share with you, but just not right about now (patience my children, patience).

The fact that I get very very quiet when I am half as nervous and half as excited as I've been in the couple of days has been underlined. Those who know me know that I am always talking, I'm never quiet, not even when my mouth is actually shut... my brain is always having a field day. However, there are these few, oh so few, moments when I'm actually quiet, dead quiet, even the little voices inside my head (e.g. Jessup rounds (specially last year), Thesis presentation). Lately i've had these episodes of quiteness (does such word even exists?). I have been thinking thing through, choices, what if? moments, everything thoroughly, 'cause every decision counts.

But its ok, I can deal with this level of anxiety.

Aside from everything else, I noticed how much I love the smell of laundry, clean laundry that is, as nothing beats tucking in a bed with sheets barely coming out of the dryer or from the hangers under the sun (my case), that have that clean smell on them. And although I do not drink coffee (or anything else with caffeine for that matter), I love the smell of coffee in the wee hours of the morning, impregnating everything around it. And I just love the smell of soap that lingers in the corner of your neck...

[jessup]

2009-01-20T11:54:00.000-08:00

So everyone so far knows I am a Jessup (Philip C. Jessup International Law Moot Court Competition) freak. I've been inmersed in it for three and a half years now, two as team member and team captain, respectively, and the present as head coach. And I miss it!

Yes, I am a masochist...
I miss the all nighters, the constant researching, the lack of sleep, the stressing, the hair-falling, nerve-racking, adrenaline driven memorial writing, the arguments, the out-of-this-world amount of case law flowing around in my brain, and yes, of course, the orals... Oh, I miss that specially!

And to make matters worst, this year is the 50th anniversary of the competition, and its going to be awesome, and I wish I could be part of the team, yes, I know, I am part of the team as a coach and faculty advisor, and yes I pulled a three-day all nighter, and yes, it was me who clicked "send" to the memorial submission email, and yes I will go with the team to DC, but still... it ain't the same.

...hmm... Graduate school: beware!! Here comes your new team mate! [insert mechanical laugh]

[just a thought]

2009-01-16T12:59:00.001-08:00

[0.002]

2009-01-13T11:03:00.000-08:00

Every 0.002 seconds
my hands long for yours...

[3.74]

2009-01-12T12:09:00.001-08:00

Hay momentos en mi día
[cada 3.74 segundos]
cuando extrañarte se torna desesperante.

['09]

2009-01-08T07:04:00.000-08:00

2009 had a kick start already and I hadn't had the chance to write and say Happy New Year to y'all, hoping '08 left good memories behind and that '09 brings a shower of them every day. Before, I had the tradition of writing very long emails and blog entries about things that happened and didn't happened during the passing year, but I have to much on my mind right now, quite a few to discuss out loud, and well, there's isn't so much space for it all.

So, first is first. 2008. Rollercoaster of a year, without a shred of doubt. But the best rollercoaster of them all. School wise there was Jessup, and its Oralists, then the Thesis, and well, the thesis itself, and then I finished school among the Top 5%. Not bad at all. Family, friends, and love wise, well, it was hectic! But a great personal learning experience as I decided to cut bonds that tied me to people that would weight me down, great as I finally dedicated time to fix and mend old relationships, great as I have shared the best of moments with my "Three Amigos +1" (F, S, C & S), and amazingly outstanding as I have god sons that call just to ask when you're coming over and because there's this one person in the whole wide world that means everything to me. And guess? The feeling is mutual.
Work wise, well, I will officially have a whole year working in the firm, in about 10 days, salary still sucks though, jaja! and on that account, and financially speaking I have left the '08's serious money issues aside and '09 has started financially tight but economically doable, with the clearing out of debts I mean.

I think this briefly sums it up. Although '08 was a hectic, nerve-racking, emotionally distressing, outstandingly busy year, I don't regret it, at all (well, maybe a day or two could definitely be blown off from the calendar, but you get the picture).

As of '09, well, I liked the way it started. New Years Eve was great, surrounded by good ol' friends and family, and just that right dose of drama, that must always accompany this sort of dates, and of course a great long-distance call.

Moreover, I had some days off from work (finally!) and now that I'm back it has been busy, but good busy, you know, keeping my hands and brain busy. All good... as I tend to wander off, you know. Salary has not increased, though. But THE BEST, most amazingly incredible news '09 has brought with so far has been the fact that yesterday I officially sent my LAST llm application documents, so Woohoo for that. (Note: If you notice that in the next couple of weeks/months levels of anxiety tower up, trust me, it ain't personal... it's just the fact that there's a three month period during which I will hear about the universities).

As of this year's resolutions, well, there's some, although contained in a particular brief list, but they're doable... including writing more on the blog.

Well everything else I had on my mind seems to have wandered off now, i'll get back on it later...

I hope '09 brings its share of good surprises for you all, faithfull readers.
Later.-

[imaginando]

2008-12-29T06:25:00.000-08:00

Toco con la punta de mi dedo tu hombro, te beso los párpados y cuento las pestañas. Navego a través del mar de lunares de tu espalda, mientras espero que el golpe de brisa que se atrapa entre mis dedos sean los tuyos. Imagino que me muerdes las orejas y en el silencio juro oír tu risa. Me arropo entre tus brazos en estas noches frías y entre tus piernas entrelazo las mías.

Imagino todo esto casi involuntariamente, en el transcurso largo y lento de mis días, imagino con cada fuerza de mi mente para que no se me olvide...

[random]

2008-12-26T09:09:00.000-08:00

Who, in their right mind, decided to come up with no x'mas vacations for justice? I mean, hello?! I deserve a break, after a very long year... I so do not want to be writing this blog entry from my very lonely office, as, of course, everyone did take the week off, even next monday and tuesday, and I am stuck here. Whyyyy? [insert bitching and moaning right about here]
And I don't even go to hearings (not that there's any this week)!! Argh, crap!

Anyhooo, and putting that little bit of uncontrolled anger to the side, I surely do hope that every one had a merry little x'mas with their loved ones. I must say I sure did, a little hectic for my taste, but very nice indeed.

I just missed somebody, a dash too much, to the point that's almost impossible not to stop feeling that weight stuck right between my ribcage. Continously wishing and hoping I could be at two places at the same time. I mean, most of the times I deal with the distance quite nicely, we've actually become close, distance and me (or I?... i never do remember), but sometimes it's hard to deal with it, and these past couple of days have been that, a bit hard.

But I already promised, and swore, and crossed-my-heart that next x'mas is just for us. So that's not that bad...

I must go back to work now... and find a wall to smash my head against.
Why???

[x'mas eve]

2008-12-25T11:17:00.000-08:00

Snow is mounting up outside, the lake slightly frozen, the bed of daisies carefully wrapped up against the cold. The house is warm and cozy as there's chattering all around. The table is set at its best (as carefully taught to me by my aunt), and the kitchen is buzzling with scents, flavors, and traditional dominican food (as carefully taught by my mother). There's x'mas jazz and a dash of Sinatra, and the tree, wow, the tree full of lights... one which could be seen from the moon. The children play around it, the dogs lay underneath, near them, continuosly awoken by the giggling of the girls, while the boys wonder why there are no presents under it.

You see, presents are only to be seen and opened the 25th, only then!!

But until such a morning arrives, there's a busy house to attend. Friends are gathered around the table, bottles of wine are opened, while I take the last look at the oven. And while I juggle with the pots and pans your hands are around my waist, knotting my apron. There's a kiss in the cheek... the perfect x'mas present.

All are seated, the children in their special table, the dogs around them, excitedly waiting for the crumbles that are expected to start falling down. And there are some words, and too much laughter, and the pork is carved, and the different dishes are served, and suddenly the only sound is that of knifes and forks against the plates...

Some hours later, we carry the kids who have fallen asleep around the tree up to bed, and we wave goodbye to the last of friends leaving and we say goodnight to those who have come down to visit from abroad and are now falling asleep in the guest room.

And when all is quiet, and you're lying in the sofa, I get wrapped around your arms, my head tucked in your shoulder. While I doze off you say, "hey, look up" ... a mistletoe above our heads...

"For it was Christmas Eve, and as twilight fell,
the childreen throughout Germany waited in hushed expectation for night to arrive..."
-The Nutcracker

Merry X'mas y'all...

The Other Urbanity

It is not the rock that changes, it is you.

10,000+ft up and away

shockwaves and itches

It is time to burst in flames and burn

Whenever is a distant thought... light years away.

the wisdom of dragons...

realization

so you know exactly where to look if you are to find...

joy is made up of little things

like a bulldozer to a daisy

I tried to move, or was it more a thought of moving?

self-preservation

I should know better by now, *tsk *tsk.

comfort zone

falling in between question marks

11:11 - 11-11-11

another perfect example of how to get in Santa's 'naughty' list...

the day is made of questions

hit the brakes

tattered bridges and safety nets

I'll deal with it later

what once was is no longer there

suddenly, there's a tremble...

Can i ask you for a favor?

Into the rubble

i've been underwater, breathing out and in...

There was no inspiration, only incoherence

[moving in]

[help]

T-2

random

random thoughts

[forgetfulness]

[welcome]

[overwhelming]

[micaela][olivia][antonia]

[♥]

[home]

[reach out]

[falling]

[escaping]

[thinking of you]

[measuring up]

[getting used to]

[freaking out]

[interesting]

[T-2]

[empty street]

[unbelievable]

[a must read]

[T-10]

[memento mori]

[wanting to be like her when i grow up]

[oh yes i am]

[stressing]

[scent]

[mindless in the airport]

[waiting]

[beauty in the breakdown]

[silence]

[it all started with a horse]

[still sick]

[WOOHOO]

[sick]

[cookies]

[forgiveness]

[sunday morning]

[scared]

[love will find a way]

[distance]

[private schools]

[déjà vu]

[love will prevail]

[random thought]

[waiting]

[thoughts]

[jessup]

[just a thought]

[0.002]

I should know better by now, tsk tsk.