Saturday, October 30, 2010

Christmas time

Even though the title of this blog is Christmas Time, the reflections I am posting tonight have nothing to do with the time of the year when everyone agrees to wear a stupid red hat while stuffing their stomachs until an indigestion is caused at the time they pretend to care about family *while* humming christmas songs. No, this isnt about that, but I thought it was fair to make that point clear.

I am 23 years old, sitting at home a saturday night, painting my nails while watching Jersey Shore, thats what I call ''rock bottom''. I dont remember the last time I actually went out, like dressing up, wearing heels and perfum type of going out, maybe last vacations, but to be honest, thats not a part of this year I feel completely comfortable remembering, but Im lossing the point here, if any. Im not going out anymore as a personal election, Im not dating or even allowing myself to fall in love anymore, as a personal election, I have neglected myself and all my desires, and then I keep having these dreams about snakes that according to Freud, are nothing but a signal of my repressed desires and that I should re evaluate my current relationship with a woman in my life... Very subtle, Freud.

Maybe Im doing all this because is more comfortable to me, telling myself that I have no choice, that nobody asks me anywhere anyways, maybe is easier for me, a great great excuse, Im staying home because Im trying to find myself or whateva, who knows, maybe if I were dating someone I would still prefer to stay home and cook, and have sex with the TV on, lots of it. But... Once again Im losing my point again, which is ''Why do I keep neglecting my needs and my desires?'', most of the days I have no energy to deal with girl drama, yea yea yea, Im reading Eat Pray Love, and Im trying to find myself, I think college is stupid, and I feel like a pretty little reckless right now, I already calculated how much a ticket to Bali will cost (lots of perms and shoes, a lifetime of perms and Payless shoes), and I think I dont wanna go there anymore, tsunamis and all, I cant swimm, and yea, I should have painted my nails on a different shade of pink because I keep getting distracted.

A part of me wants to start writing again, I call myself a writter but I barely write anymore, I guess thats one of the many things my last sentimental attempt took away from me, besides the way I had of seeing love, its like the inspiration is gone, my muse is bored and I have no way to get her back in the mood again, plus I keep comitting (?) the same mistakes again and again and again, being attracted to people emotionally inaccesible, and the less feedback I get, the bigger the rush I feel, and no Im not going back to meds because of this, but who knows, if theres anything I could talk about in this world, would be about bad relationships, cuz... Im an expert, I know where to get them, how to get them, how to keep them and how to make them stronger, thats how fucked up I am in the emotional field.

But maybe, just maybe I should give myself and the city a shot, and go out and get over myself and that reluctant behavior of mine of refusing to date a dominican girl (ejem... bunch of bicurious... ejem), and just have a little fun, I should open my mind and listen to all that guru crap, and yea, maybe work out a little, endorfins make people happy as Reese Witherspoon said once, and happy people dont kill their husbands, or cut their wrists (that last part is courtesy of moi).

Yea, I think I might to that and give the world a shot afterall.


Thursday, October 28, 2010


“In desperate love, we always invent the characters of our partners, demanding they be what we need of them, and then feeling devastated when they refuse to perform the role we created in the first place.”

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

music versus silence

I certainly cannot recall when did music started to make me sad, giving then a bigger space of time to the silence... But now I must confess, I don't know which one is worst for me.

Another night crying until I fell asleep. I hope these tears don't turn into a sedating effect for my nights. I hope all this crying will pay up eventually, but who am I trying to fool, tears do not pay, only effort and sacrifice.

Couldn't help to think in that book of Oscar Wao, and couldn't help either to hear the voice of The Mother in my head: "Tu ta llorando, por una muchacha?! Sal pa la calle a ver si se te quita la mariconeria!!!"

Somehow, now I preffer the silence while I give myself time for things to change.


Friday, October 22, 2010

Just a little brokenhearted

Today Im breathing slower than usually, while walking looking up to the sky to avoid
drop a single tear, because, yes, is one of those days, this I can tell because Im far away from my period, so, as in previous posts I cannot blame the PMS. Is just that I dont know how long will this take, or if its something that I will have to deal with the rest of my life. The need of having t
o justify myself, and what I like, and how I feel and who I am. Is like living and apologizing for it, every day, every time, apologizing for my passions, apologizing for what makes me feel so good that, as Sheryl says, why the hell am I so sad.

I tried each time, and I failed each time, and you know what? I wish I didnt have to try, I wish I could be me and somehow is like Im 17 again, having the dilemmas I never had while growing up and feeling miserable even when I shouldnt.

Today Im just a little brokenhearted because the
simplest word makes me burst into tears, a part of me just wanna be left alone in the darkness for the rest of the eternity, the other part thinks that maybe I should just run away, to Australia maybe, they have koalas and Ive heard that besides the really strong accent, people are nice there.

This is not the way things should be, as all in life I have to suck it up and move on and just forget about the whole thing because all was okay... until it wasnt.

Last minute update: I dont have to take any of this


Monday, October 11, 2010

A mi dejenme así

Una compañera de trabajo lo dijo mucho tiempo antes que yo.... ''así comienza, el deterioro''. Y pienso que tenía razón en una frase que no dice mucho pero que al mismo lo dice todo en estos momentos donde mis silencios son mas eloquentes que mis palabras. Porque las cosas comienzan a morir así, de a poquito y sin que nadie se de cuenta.

Ortega y Gasset (creo) decía que el era el y sus circunstancias. Bueno pues yo soy yo y con eso que nadie se meta. Poco a poco voy cambiando mi vida, mis horarios, mis rutinas, mi poder adqusitivo, como llaman los dominantes al poder de endeudamiento, también crece junto con las ansias de hacer todo y al mismo tiempo saber que no se puede hacer nada. Si es que eso tiene sentido alguno.

Siempre me lo digo, cada cierto tiempo y más ahora que estamos en los meses que terminan en Bre, las cosas tienen que cambiar, y tienen que porque someterme a un proceso de construcción y deconstrucción de mi vida es lo único que me permite mantenerme a flote como mi propio amuleto contra la locura. Este organizar y reorganizar me permite fijar mi mente en otras cosas a los fines de no perder la cordura y terminar el resto de mis días como un perro viejo, echando espumarrajos de rabia mezclado con espuma por la boca.

Estoy loca, una afirmación, o talvez el consabido axioma de toda mujer de clase media entre los 20 y los 28 años, pero mis razones son valederas, porque entre mis superpoderes se cuentan la cocina gourmet y la habilidad de percibir hechos con una sensibilidad tan afinada que termina por tener apreciaciones que nadie en realidad había hecho previamente.

Es decir, siempre yo la que termina dando apoteósicas afirmaciones de la belleza de hechos que en realidad no fueron tan bellos, o que en realidad no fueron tan hechos. Por eso tomo la costumbre (más ahora que llegan los meses fríos) de que cada vez que se me pase por la mente aferrarme a los movimientos de una princesa gélida repetirme a mi misma que no es más que una creación de mi imaginación porque las princesas gélidas no sienten, y mucho menos existen.

Otra vez más, otro mes con Bre, y otra vez la misma promesa pero con otro rostro, otro cuerpo y sin embargo el mismo sentimiento ''Esta vez se acabó, y esta vez es para siempre''....

Las cosas siempre comienzan y terminan de la misma manera...