Shame on me!

Today I have several reasons to feel ashamed.

First of all, because I spent my whole weekend doing pretty much nothing apart from eating and thinking about this new guy. Now, this is shameful because the guy is obviously not interested and because I am bathing in comfort food thanks to my disappointment and my lack of sleep through an awful last week.

Second, because I am falling into my old habit of getting depressed... ruining my grades... behaving like an idiot... bitching whenever I am well enough to speak and doing nothing. I just think about stupidities; almost never leave home and make ridiculous plans for moments to come.

Third, because I spent hours wondering why  I'm alone now, where are my friends, why I cannot find a motivation why I'm not going nuts over the things I love as I usually am. Where does it come from this need to feel pain? to mess up the things which really matter for me? this crave to hide from the world?

Today I was supposed to give an essay for my "Heidegger" class. I read the texts. I had the topic and what did I do? Oh, little old moi sat in front of the computer and got to think the whole f***ing morning! I did not go to college, I barely moved from my chair and I was not even surfing on the net. I felt like a zombie. The only two things which gave me a kick were a movie and my cousin begging me to go to his speech at the congress. Speech to which I accepted to go since Saturday; actually, I even did editing work on it. Nevertheless, today it seemed completely trivial to go to my cousins speech! I love my cousin we are like siblings and this was important for him! After he and a mutual friend called me I felt horrible for not going. I found myself in front of the mirror (without having even taking a bath at 4pm) wondering: what the hell is wrong me? Finally, after a lot of dragging myself around the house I was ready to go. I arrived 30 minutes late after being forced to pay way too much money for a cab so I could arrived and see my lovely cousin and my friend.

The movie I mention before was: "The spirit". I had not seen it but finally,a friend who loves comics bought it and borrow it to me so I could watch it. He, in agreement with the critic, said it was crap. He warned me over the phone that he could only stand it for 30 minutes or so because then he was so annoyed that he placed the dvd in its box and never gave it a second look until I asked if he had finally watch it.

I watched it in two sections, 1 hour before going to my cousins debut and the rest when I got back.

Fortunately or unfortunately I do not know the comic. My only comic references are some batman issues (I totally loved The Long Halloween ones), some Spiderman issues,  a little of Civil War and some X-men. However, I had hopes for this movie since Frank Miller was in charge. I liked the movie. I did not like the story too much... but I fell for the image. I enjoyed the way it all looked like watching a play at the theater mixed with photoshop cuts out. I loved the atmosphere the scenography and the light were able to create and, the cat was just way to cute for me to resist (lol).

Now I am thinking that I'm safe being in love only with images, with colored dreams, with those enchanted shapes and words that inhabit a pencil.

When your lips were red: I had everything and the rain was merely an apathetic literary mood.

When your lips were red, I could see through them: secret messages and smelled the scent of morning coffee.

When your lips were red: there were no lonely twilights or artificial smiles.

When your lips were red, I was writing the first happy chapter of this book and, now the pages seem lonely.

Your lips are not red anymore. Smoky gray took the place of that bright color and I am all too human for its desperation.  

A look in the mirror.

Yesterday, I found this Iranian website and started reading some of the articles there. I have a kind of bond to Iran and because of it I read cultural as well as general news featuring this country.
Today, I tripped over "Flying Solo", she has this column named "Coffe an Conversation" -http://www.iranian.com/main/2009/aug/coffee-and-conversation- where she publishes a sort of dramatic story. I read the issue number 4 and I liked it so much (I enjoyed her writing wholeheartedly) that I wanted to read the rest for which I went to the firt issue. After reading it and being a bit shocked by the incredible abruptness of Solo and her ironically romantic perspective on men, I had to mull over this phrase:

"You , me, all women live the romances we truly deserve. So, look in the mirror and start anew."


Peculiar is to say that I am somehow halfway between these two opposites: Mira and Solo. As an afterthought, I got to think, as many times before, about the men in my life.
I grew up surrounded by men and I learned devastating facts thanks to it. My father was, to put it kindly because as a dad he is not that bad all together, not the best example of a romantic part. My brothers are not much better than him.
I must say that I will never forget when I was entering my puberty how my older brother behaved, disclosing to me facts about the way he behaved with women to end it with a phrase of the sort "This is so you know how things are and you will not behave stupidly".
I have behaved like a total idiot more than once and, in that same fashion I have cried.
I am so particularly obsessive and giving when I really fall for someone that I wonder how much good my brother's preparations and the images from all the other men (family and friends) around me did to me.
I have trust issues... I never feel sure that I am getting all there is from men and they have a hard time because somehow with me they have to overcome two things: first, that I am not ambiguous at all (when I say no it means no and, when I say yes it means hell yes!); and second, that to be with me is like eternal counceling... I need to go over what went wrong and decipher why it went wrong and figure how not to make it that way again.
Due to the statements above I am not very popular with men. When I feel bad about something I split it out and I am very clear with what I want... men tend to have problems with that, probably because afterward they will have no excuse as to a misunderstanding.

When I think about my relationships I wonder a lot... many a time I have allow the guy to think he may use me so I can use him, with my conscience free of guilt, because I cannot deal with something real and, even less with a guy head over heels for me when I am just having fun.
I am curious to see if out there somewhere is a guy who can deal with my issues and me, while imagining me naked and putting up with my sense of romance. Is there anyone that open-minded and passionately caring?


I have to say this here. I met this guy... tall, gorgeous lips and hands, great personality, creative interests... I find him terribly cute. I cannot say I like him-like him because I have barely seen him 4 times or so but he makes me so curious. My regular me says go for it be clear about how you feel... my composed me tells me if he is as curious as you are he would be doing something, don't fret, watch, wait. I'm bad waiting I have no patience for that. I like to get my answers quite soon after the question is born. Chickening out? who, me?

Leyend.

I experience, now, the desire to describe a particular moment as if I could engrave it with words.
I was so nervous, thinking about my dress, selfconcious about the contrast between its gray and the white of my socks. Tasting my red lip-stick with good measure, containing the impulse to bite my lips.
I trespassed different faces, without really taking them in, Today I did not want to observe, I wanted to watch him.
My heart accelerated in anguish, it was impossible to stop, he was there: looking straight at me. His posture snatched a sigh from my breath and my eyes, which were desperate not to fall in the abysm of his, were looking for something to hold on to: The title of the book in his hands or the image from its cover, maybe the color of the jacket he wore... or the configuration of his fingers, the tone of his lips... oh, my eyes! again straying from their path!

Je te promets by Zaho

T'aimerai que je te dise, que je t'aimerai toute ma vie

t'aimerai que je te promets, toute mes nuits jusqu'à l'infinie

t'aimerai que je te suive, a jamais sans faire de bruit

et que je comprenne tous ceux si sans que tu le dise

et je ne pourrai te dire, ce que je ne sais pas

et je ne pourrai te donner, ce que je n'ai pas

et je ne pourrai te fuir, même si tu nous sépare

tous ce que je te promets c'est un nouveau départ

J'aimerai que le temps s'arrête lorsqu'on se parle

et qu'apparaisse en plein jour dans le ciel, un milliard d'étoile

pour que je fasse un Vœu, sans que mon soleil se voile

et qu'on puisse être a nouveau, deux sans se faire ce mal

et je ne pourrai te dire, ce que je ne sais pas
et je ne pourrai te donner, ce que je n'ai pas
et je ne pourrai te fuir, même si tu nous sépare
tous ce que je te promets c'est un nouveau départ

et j'aimerai me cacher, sous tes paupières

pour que tu puisse me voir, quand tu fait tes prières

et j'aimerai les casser toute ces lumières

celles qui t'empêches de voir, un peu plus clair

et je ne pourrai te dire, ce que je ne sais pas

et je ne pourrai te donner, ce que je n'ai pas

et je ne pourrai te fuir, même si tu nous sépare

tous ce que je te promets c'est un nouveau départ

"Life doesn't give a fuck that you are sorry or upset or deranged or tormented. Life just goes on and you gotta go on with it, or sit in the middle of the road and feel sorry for yourself. And I do not see you doing that. "

Looking In.

Today I have not been out either. I am giving myself a break to recover since tomorrow the classes are starting from 7am and I am still ill. I do not feel weak as yesterday (which is an amazing improvement) and I am wondering if I should arrive for my afternoon class. I guess I simply won't be going.
I have been thinking since I woke up that I need to get a book for one of my classes and then I found myself thinking about all the books I have ever read. The list is long. I love reading. I remember when I was a kid one of my teachers said... "To read is important, if you are rich you will be richer and if you are not, then that is your only chance to get to know everything there is". As I said in an oldest post I have this thing for horror and Gothic stuff, so as you can imagine when I was a child, I loved scary stories... as it is that brought me to read things a bit more complex historical books and all. I ended up with a bizarre fascination with the middle ages and mythology. I wanted to read about every strange creature, I enjoyed picturing in my head powers turning on humans and I needed to make a list of every king who beheaded people and every queen who had visions.

I am seriously considering to start posting my personal reviews on different titles. Yeah... I would like that.
Books were my only way to scape and I was thrilled with the incredible places I visited and the people I got to know through them. Now that I am older I still feel that way. I told my friends that i probably deal better with books than with people. It is true. I like bad literature and I love good literature...
I have heard the analogy of books being like food for your brain. I have a terrible memory (honestly... it is surprising to wake up in the morning and still remember my name) but I still think it is a good way to put it. Bad food can give you that exact amount of pleasure you were looking for after a very long day... Good food, well, you can flavor it... close your eyes and keep tasting, slowly discovering there are so many textures and a pinch or so of an unexpected ingredient. Literature goes in the same way. Bad literature there is all around, different kinds for different tastes... it is like a sting: potent but evanescent. Good literature, on the other hand, is likely to appeal to many: transcending time, revealing something enchanting with every turn of the page. Bad literature is like an addiction. Good literature is like a well informed decision to travel within a black hole.

"I almost can remember feeling a little different"

Today is a peculiar day. Today is my best friend's birthday, today I had to stay home even I just started my new semester because I am too ill to be out (no voice, no strength) and today I want to talk about a movie I just loved: "Phoebe in wonderland".

A few hours ago I wrote an e-mail to my friend due mainly to the fact that I could not have called her... well, I could, but we would not have had a conversation; just her voice contrasted with my death end. Funny enough, she left me a note to inform me she is also having problems with her throat. Empathy? Naw.
The wonderful thing about friends, the real ones, is that they do not follow you, neither they lead you. They are plainly there, by your side, sharing whatever life throws your way. That is why friends are these strange people who have seen the worst of you and still love you, and still remember the very best of you. Friends can be a pain in the ass but they are supposed to be so... they are honest as hell and that is amazing. A blessing.


I feel like crap. I hate the sun with all my entirely weak body... I hate to be ill. To feel vulnerable is terrifying... I would rather stand at the edge of a cliff than to feel fragile but here I am. Feeling like a ruined stuff toy after accidentally falling into a washing machine. I could not sleep well either... and the lack of sleep makes me cranky (but who does not get cranky with that?). I hate my ex... why? well, because this is the moment when I would like to be cuddling in bed, hearing a good movie (when I am ill I do not watch I just listen) while hugging a warm body. That makes me remember him and I do not like it (I need to get a thermal pillow).

I watched "Phoebe in wonderland" a few days ago and I remembered about a young little girl I met once who had an OCD. She was an afraid, tiny cocoon. She used to get obsessively worried about everything and everybody. I wonder if she still does that. She was tall, her skin a bit waxy... she looked as if a growth spur would take care of the extra fat around her belly and she always wore an amazed but tired expression on her eyes... I carried my image of her all through out this movie and I suddenly saw her smiling.

"- What do we know about Good Job Jenny?
- (Whispering) That she deserves a slow and painful death."

Good Job Jenny is that stupid cartoon inside the classroom holding "the rules". Oh yeah! "the rules" unbreakable, unquestionable, untouchable... leading a herd of puny screaming lambs (ok, ok, children) to live a life where you throw the stone and hide your hand if you are not happy but never dare to go against the flow.
When I took Art Lab, at school, it was wonderful. My teacher was this kinda guy who believe in anarchy but who always clarified first that anarchy was more than just lack of government. Anarchy, he told us, is a state where each individual knows what he wants and, being able to have total control over himself, do what he has to do with no one else telling him what that is.
I was all for it. I am not good working around with people staring at me so it was kinda harsh to be at the workshop with everyone else peeping or commenting on my job. One day I just sat and looked at the clear morning... My teacher came and said: "what do you think you are doing?" and I answered bluntly: "nothing". He just stared at me until I finally speak: "I do not like to work with everyone around, it is annoying so I am coming up with a plan". Suddenly he was grinning and told me: "OK, but you better hurry up and make it a damn good one" and on he went around the workshop. Next class I had design my program for the rest of the course. I was to read and observe in class and bring over what I did at home. I learned what I was supposed to and more.
This movie is about that. This movie says "jump", "do your thing! why are you waiting for someone to push you?".
I think one's mind is all there is. What lives within our head is the last frontier.
We are all an individual universe... and we posses so many fantastic ideas and thoughts that it seems almost painful not to use them.

Miss Dodger: At a certain part in your life. Probably when too much of it has gone by. You will open your eyes and see yourself for who you are. Especially for everything that made you so different from all the awful normals. And you will say to yourself, "But I am this person." And in that statement, that correction, there will be a kind of love.

Am I a lame blogger?

Ohhh yes. Yes, I am but anyway let's do this again.
Now, writing, I have the weirdest sensation of... liberation? It so happens that I have laryngitis with a complete loss of voice and I just started my new semester (is it not great?).
The strange thing is that after almost 2 days without being able to hear myself I hear everything else real loud... as if my voice all this time had been drowning the other sounds that surround me. This phenomenon made me wonder if this is like that saying goes: "you will think you are the highest dot if you never look upwards". In this state of things and after a horrible day I took my silence as an opportunity for self-reflection... not good... I found my darkest side... OK, not the darkest but pretty close.
Fortunately or unfortunately I am the kind of person who needs to ventilate certain things in order to move on... Once upon a time I was jealous of this girl who I thought had everything I wanted and oh yeah! I was a real bitch about it. Being bitchy is not bad unless you have gotten the wrong reasons... Anyhow, I had drown that feeling never discovering what was behind it until recently. My jealousy came back with a strength of untold proportions... I made myself look stupidly ridiculous when I screamed that fact with all my lungs potential but I got to grasp the reason behind so much bu**s**t: I was scared as I am now of being alone.

I like my privacy... I like my space... I like to be by myself... but there are times when I hoped there was somebody coming to my rescue and there was nobody. The first time I thought it was sad but after what I have lived the last three years... all my adventures and misadventures... I had to learn something and to get real: I do not need to be rescued.
I learned that if people is going to love me they will, no need to be pushy and no need to make an effort to seem different from how I am. Do not get me wrong... I ted to be pretty honest but sometimes I hold back because I wonder if people can handle it. Guess what... people can, you just will never know unless you try.

The last three years I went from living with my parents, screwing my university average and having a terrible emotional outbreak; to go on travels, to be engaged and living with my guy, to have my own money and live the way I decided. Now I am back... I am living with my mom again, no guy, I am back to university and I am about to get a job (if my stupid respiratory infections get away from me long enough). It seemed I was back to where I began and I was freaking out due to it but that is not true.
Now even if I can get to be an idiot once in a while I am stronger, I understand what independence means and what I want. I still have so many issues going on, with the difference that now I am able to face them.