March 13, 2008
January 09, 2008
January 05, 2008
No sé por qué razón, pero la verdad es que no puedo confiar en nadie que tenga mala ortografía o escriba de manera descuidada aunque sea deliberadamente. Me disgusta. Me repele. Ew. Soy una snob.
*
Se busca mucama para limpiar casa una vez a la semana. Es hora de que no encuento esposa sufrida que me haga el queacer asi que mi casa parece un basurero. Yo de plano no naci para lavar trastes, barrer, trapear, aspirar, tender camas ni nada de eso. Lo mas que puedo hacer es depurar de vez en cuando. Muy de vez en cuando.
*
He regresado de las fiestas decembrinas como una especie de ballena josefina, y ahora me debato en mi escritorio sobre las medidas correctivas a tomar. Comer menos. Hacer más ejercicio. Me lleva el demonio. Comer mejor. Fuck. It.
*
Estoy muy preocupada por mi padre y por mi abuela. Yo diría que más bien estoy asustada. De esas cosas en las que uno se la lleva pensando y luego trata de distraerse para volver otra vez a lo mismo, mientras el corazon late con fuerza. Yo no rezo, pero quisiera rezar. Y entonces mejor no hablo, y a veces lloro. Hay que tener paciencia. Hay que ser fuerte. El optimismo es una estupidez. Hay que ser realista. Hay que ser práctico. Ven. Por eso mejor guardo silencio.
*
Ya casi te olvido. Es más, a veces ni siquiera me acuerdo de ti. Bueno. Eso es una mentira por que todos los días pienso en tí aunque sea un ratito. Aunque sea como recordatorio de que existes, de que exististe y de que soy porque fuiste y que por algo pasan las cosas y que yo no era para ti y que tu no eras para mi y mira ya tienes dos hijos y eres feliz y yo jamas voy a poder comprometerme con nadie tal vez jamás me case o tenga un hijo o haga nada que valga la pena pero de un modo u otro creo que he vuelto a sentir amor cariño algo parecido y me siento bien pero de todos modos me siento rara y me acuerdo de ti, siempre vuelvo a acordarme de ti yo creo que olvidar es un arte imaginario pero al menos ya no me duele tanto ya no me duele me duele poco tal vez la mejor palabra es resignacion pero no lo es la verdad es que no hay palabra para eso que siento cuando me acuerdo de ti. A lo mejor en alemán.
Ajá.
Ni modo.
*
Se busca mucama para limpiar casa una vez a la semana. Es hora de que no encuento esposa sufrida que me haga el queacer asi que mi casa parece un basurero. Yo de plano no naci para lavar trastes, barrer, trapear, aspirar, tender camas ni nada de eso. Lo mas que puedo hacer es depurar de vez en cuando. Muy de vez en cuando.
*
He regresado de las fiestas decembrinas como una especie de ballena josefina, y ahora me debato en mi escritorio sobre las medidas correctivas a tomar. Comer menos. Hacer más ejercicio. Me lleva el demonio. Comer mejor. Fuck. It.
*
Estoy muy preocupada por mi padre y por mi abuela. Yo diría que más bien estoy asustada. De esas cosas en las que uno se la lleva pensando y luego trata de distraerse para volver otra vez a lo mismo, mientras el corazon late con fuerza. Yo no rezo, pero quisiera rezar. Y entonces mejor no hablo, y a veces lloro. Hay que tener paciencia. Hay que ser fuerte. El optimismo es una estupidez. Hay que ser realista. Hay que ser práctico. Ven. Por eso mejor guardo silencio.
*
Ya casi te olvido. Es más, a veces ni siquiera me acuerdo de ti. Bueno. Eso es una mentira por que todos los días pienso en tí aunque sea un ratito. Aunque sea como recordatorio de que existes, de que exististe y de que soy porque fuiste y que por algo pasan las cosas y que yo no era para ti y que tu no eras para mi y mira ya tienes dos hijos y eres feliz y yo jamas voy a poder comprometerme con nadie tal vez jamás me case o tenga un hijo o haga nada que valga la pena pero de un modo u otro creo que he vuelto a sentir amor cariño algo parecido y me siento bien pero de todos modos me siento rara y me acuerdo de ti, siempre vuelvo a acordarme de ti yo creo que olvidar es un arte imaginario pero al menos ya no me duele tanto ya no me duele me duele poco tal vez la mejor palabra es resignacion pero no lo es la verdad es que no hay palabra para eso que siento cuando me acuerdo de ti. A lo mejor en alemán.
Ajá.
Ni modo.
December 13, 2007
October 17, 2007
October 10, 2007
October 01, 2007
August 30, 2007
August 24, 2007
playtime*
The diagnostic was "anxiety disorder" and "depression". I had a long long talk with the Dr. , and after an exhaustive review and examination (he has been my dr like, forever, even though I only go once or twice a year) so he has my files, and knows a bit about what´s going on. Anyway, he said all my symptoms (a whole bunch of them i´ve carrying on for months, some for years) are the result of a strong anxiety disorder. Then he went on explaining that not taking care of it was being now manifesting in a physical form (lots, lots of expressions in physical form, so much that I finally HAD to go with the doctor) ... So anyway he was ver upfront about the meds he suggested I should take for that. It was controled medicine, only sold by recipe, and a strong one, but I should feel fine in one day (aka most of the symptoms would go away). I was like, seriously, wouldnt it be better to give something for my acid, the back pain, the insomnia, the .... He said they were all manifestations of the anxiety, and that I had a nervous breakdown, as in my nervous system had somehow collapsed, so the roots of it needed to be taken care of. Whew. Ok. Whatever. Give my anything that will kill this pain I´m feeling now and I will be devotee of you for the rest of my life. He did prescribed this drug I´m saying, only for a month. I´m not supposed to take it for more than a month, he said. Besides I had to take antidepressants daily. I´ve struggling all my life with not taking antidepressant because... because... maybe I liked to be depressed all the time. It was me, after all, bipolary me. So anyway I was so sore and determined to end with this garbage that I went to the pharmacy, get everything I was supossed to get. Go home, take of all my clothes (one of my favorte moments of the day), turn of the AC and watched the pills, still undecided. So if I take them tomorrow I´m gonna be okay? Sounds too good to be true. What the hell is it anyway? I didnt wanted to know. Around 12:30 I did take one. And watched an episode of desperate housewives. Who would have guessed? I started feeling to sleep like before the episode was finished. I have to clarify. Usually lately I stay up way way way longer, and in pain, to worsen it.SO
I slept like, so well as I had not in months. Better than ever, I think. Whew. Usually I have either my back neck muscles so sore I can´t even move, or the lower back, or the upper back, or my head is killing me, or my stomach is upset, or I feel like a pregnant woman. But not this night. This night I rested. Awesome.
In the morning I took half the same pill. That was the dhosis on the recipe. And the one for depression. Happily, with a big glass of water. Then I took an apple and left home to work.
I guess it´s not my fault if my brain do not produce enough of those substances to be well. It´s all chemical. Love is. Everything is. So now I think the same things, I worry about the same things, but I´m not drawn to sadness. I walked this morning not in the Dante´s hell I usually live in, but in another state. Sedated? I dont know. All i know is i do not have any of the pains I had yesterday, or the last week, the last month and to be fair, the last years. Those pills are freaking effective.
Am I going to become an addict? I think not.
I recall I didnt had a dream. And I always have them. Big dreams, nightmares and dramas. I rememeber mostly all.
So maybe this is it. I will just not have any dreams anymore. Hm.
As I walked I saw a box in the side of the street. It said, clearly: "Careful. Very Careful".
August 23, 2007
soul tonic*
Guys. I would like to thank you for being asking how I am. I´m fine. Actually, I´m almost ready to go to my appointment with the doctor. Let´s see how it goes. I´m not gonna miss this one. Maybe I have cancer, and then I will not have to find a young friend who has it to overcome my problems. Kidding. Off.
August 21, 2007
Well now. I'm alive and I´m ok. Technically speaking. I am breathing and walking, sometimes smiling, and sometimes crying. Like now.
This is for the ones wondering.
During this time I went to the sea. I played with the waves, let the sun burn my skin and the wind play with my hair. It was a perfect summer day, near to the sunset. I felt the kind of joy that you can only feel when your heart is broken, and you have finally understood it´s going to stay that way until your death.
I went to the mountains, too. Under the clear sky, the moon and the most brilliant stars I have ever seen I climbed, looking for nothing. What I was looking for I found it long time ago, but it is lost now. Only God knows why and where. If there is one.
I had to keep walking. I will, for a while.
This is for the ones wondering.
During this time I went to the sea. I played with the waves, let the sun burn my skin and the wind play with my hair. It was a perfect summer day, near to the sunset. I felt the kind of joy that you can only feel when your heart is broken, and you have finally understood it´s going to stay that way until your death.
I went to the mountains, too. Under the clear sky, the moon and the most brilliant stars I have ever seen I climbed, looking for nothing. What I was looking for I found it long time ago, but it is lost now. Only God knows why and where. If there is one.
I had to keep walking. I will, for a while.
July 27, 2007
I feel so sad I haven´t even been able to write here lately. I am not done with sadness yet, but I feel like I need to write something that is not the interview with the guys from Kaspersky or Intel Education.
Today I want to write about me. To be honest, I believe the source of my sadness has its roots in the fact that I truly believe I am a complete failure. And no, I did not come to that conclusion expecting that people do the usual head pet and say how much I have accomplished. Which is pretty much nothing. I believe I am a failure in many ways, and here is why.
First of all, my love relationships have failed. For one or another obscure reasons that I will never completly understand. I remember I wanted to have kids. That is not the case anymore. Failure number 2.
I have been doing the same thing for over 9 years now, in a not very bright way, with not very good pay and with little recognition, perhaps the reason is that I am not very smart. Failure number 3.
Here there is, I think, one of the most important reasons of distress: I do believe I am smart. Maybe that is exactly why I feel like a total failure.
Failure number 4: I have not started a higher education, and it is not because I am not bright enough not because money issues -I know I could get a scholarship-. It is because of inercy. Or fear. I simply do not do what is necessary to do to get in. I think we all will agree that is far worst. Far, far worst.
The cherry on top are my family relations. They are screwed. I hardly ever see anyone. I just get locked in my sad little world, flying here in there, interviewing this and that, writing stuff, being under pression and stressed all the time. I do love them. I love my father. I love my mother. I feel particularly close to some in my family, but I just do not have the strenght to build a strong bond. I have become emotionally distant to almost all of them. Failure number 5.
Failure number 6: I have no friends. I am not sure if I want them. I am not able to keep them. I just can´t deal with them.
In short, I am not what I was supossed to be. What I wanted, and I cannot blame anyone but me.
Now I am sitting at my desk alone in the office, with a bottle of bonafont in front of me and a terrible pain -i just dont know what the fuck is wrong with me- in my stomach, pretty much the rule lately, but I do not go with the doctor, I do not have any studies done. I guess I simply do not care and hope everything is over soon.
That is why I say I am a coward.
That is why I understand why I am alone.
I am not capable of love. Not anymore. I am capable of a pathetic imitation of it. I lost it somewhere. It ended up being too scary, I guess. I lost myself too. I dont really know who I am anymore. I am nothing but a brain not very well used. Sometimes it is too painful.
So there. At least i made an entry.
Today I want to write about me. To be honest, I believe the source of my sadness has its roots in the fact that I truly believe I am a complete failure. And no, I did not come to that conclusion expecting that people do the usual head pet and say how much I have accomplished. Which is pretty much nothing. I believe I am a failure in many ways, and here is why.
First of all, my love relationships have failed. For one or another obscure reasons that I will never completly understand. I remember I wanted to have kids. That is not the case anymore. Failure number 2.
I have been doing the same thing for over 9 years now, in a not very bright way, with not very good pay and with little recognition, perhaps the reason is that I am not very smart. Failure number 3.
Here there is, I think, one of the most important reasons of distress: I do believe I am smart. Maybe that is exactly why I feel like a total failure.
Failure number 4: I have not started a higher education, and it is not because I am not bright enough not because money issues -I know I could get a scholarship-. It is because of inercy. Or fear. I simply do not do what is necessary to do to get in. I think we all will agree that is far worst. Far, far worst.
The cherry on top are my family relations. They are screwed. I hardly ever see anyone. I just get locked in my sad little world, flying here in there, interviewing this and that, writing stuff, being under pression and stressed all the time. I do love them. I love my father. I love my mother. I feel particularly close to some in my family, but I just do not have the strenght to build a strong bond. I have become emotionally distant to almost all of them. Failure number 5.
Failure number 6: I have no friends. I am not sure if I want them. I am not able to keep them. I just can´t deal with them.
In short, I am not what I was supossed to be. What I wanted, and I cannot blame anyone but me.
Now I am sitting at my desk alone in the office, with a bottle of bonafont in front of me and a terrible pain -i just dont know what the fuck is wrong with me- in my stomach, pretty much the rule lately, but I do not go with the doctor, I do not have any studies done. I guess I simply do not care and hope everything is over soon.
That is why I say I am a coward.
That is why I understand why I am alone.
I am not capable of love. Not anymore. I am capable of a pathetic imitation of it. I lost it somewhere. It ended up being too scary, I guess. I lost myself too. I dont really know who I am anymore. I am nothing but a brain not very well used. Sometimes it is too painful.
So there. At least i made an entry.
July 18, 2007
- Janurary 23, 2003 "Looks... Gooood"
- Scott: Are you sure it's healthy to stare at the computer screen like that?
- Ethan: Are my eyes bleeding?
- Scott: No
- Ethan: Am i drowning in my own drool?
- Scott: No
- Ethan: I'll be fine.
July 10, 2007
July 09, 2007
July 07, 2007
*Peeling the onion
Creo que cualquiera que haya visto la película "El tambor de Hojalata" o haya tenido la suerte de leer el libro de Gunter Grass sentirá curiosidad por "Peeling the Onion", la autobiografía que acaba de publicar.
John Irving le dedica una crítica de cuatro páginas en el New York Times, y dejando de lado los protagonismos de Irving, vale la pena leerla, al menos para los que no estamos muy bien informados sobre lo que pasó con este libro en Alemania.
Por lo visto, revela la participación de Grass en la SS cuando tenía 17 años, en la Alemania nazi. La invasión de Polonia ocurrió cuando apenas era un niño.
Es una buena crítica, y el libro debe ser muy bueno también. Siempre, siempre hay mucho más de lo aparente, y como siempre, lo más importante es lo que no se dice. Lástima que no se leer en alemán. Esperemos que haya una buena traducción al español.
Here is to Gunter, whose first book is one of my favorites, even thought I haven´t read it yet. The movie itself was more than good. I have some scenes burned in my mind. Still. I´m hoping for the last to come to my hands soon.
What is it with me and german writers? :*) Quizá me identifico más con los alemanes y su complejo colectivo de culpabilidad mucho más que con los mexicanos y su complejo de inferioridad.
Maybe. Or maybe not.
Creo que cualquiera que haya visto la película "El tambor de Hojalata" o haya tenido la suerte de leer el libro de Gunter Grass sentirá curiosidad por "Peeling the Onion", la autobiografía que acaba de publicar.
John Irving le dedica una crítica de cuatro páginas en el New York Times, y dejando de lado los protagonismos de Irving, vale la pena leerla, al menos para los que no estamos muy bien informados sobre lo que pasó con este libro en Alemania.
Por lo visto, revela la participación de Grass en la SS cuando tenía 17 años, en la Alemania nazi. La invasión de Polonia ocurrió cuando apenas era un niño.
Es una buena crítica, y el libro debe ser muy bueno también. Siempre, siempre hay mucho más de lo aparente, y como siempre, lo más importante es lo que no se dice. Lástima que no se leer en alemán. Esperemos que haya una buena traducción al español.
Here is to Gunter, whose first book is one of my favorites, even thought I haven´t read it yet. The movie itself was more than good. I have some scenes burned in my mind. Still. I´m hoping for the last to come to my hands soon.
What is it with me and german writers? :*) Quizá me identifico más con los alemanes y su complejo colectivo de culpabilidad mucho más que con los mexicanos y su complejo de inferioridad.
Maybe. Or maybe not.
July 03, 2007
June 26, 2007
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