In the rain – Too dark to see the drops

Hello there…

… I think I am back. Maybe.

It has been an awful amount of time since I last wrote anything here. Damn me. But I am back for a while and with new hopes and illusion, though no ideas on how to translate those into posts. So patience is required my friends, or click unfollow. Please do not. 

So, first I have few things to say.

1) I can now confirm what multiple times suggested in this blog: I will be a semi-permanent individual in the USA for a little under two years. I have been accepted in the Graduate School of a university that for safety reasons I probably should not mention but that I cannot promise that you will not get to know by other means or hints in oncoming posts. Also I will be something that is unknown for is inexistent in my country yet very interesting and also daunting, a Teaching Assistant.

1.5) If you want to know about that in future posts, hey just say it!

2) I am sometimes terrified, sometimes excited, sometimes overwhelmed, sometimes fed up with the prospects of becoming a semi-permanent individual in the USA.

3) Fuck you burocracy.

4) Life is still hectic and I still cannot cope with it.

5) I am about to graduate and I honestly can’t wait. I will miss the people though.

6) My eyes are open, I can see, but can I act?

7) Final remark: keep your voice and use it. Say whatever you need, as loud or quiet you may want it to be, say, talk, speak, do it.

One day you might find yourself in the middle of a fist of agonizing cries that will mute your voice. And by the time you are done crying, a deathly weakness upon your bones will trap your voice in the depths of your silence.

8) I almost wrote your instead of you’re. I want to cry…

9) I discovered hockey. I am an expert of hockey now.

10) Bye

Bye!

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Love and those things that only live in movies

This morning it struck me. I heard lots of times how unrealistic the love depicted in movies/shows or whatever animated platform is, how there is no such thing as the perfect man who understands you and knows everything you need, in the exact second you need it, the man who despite knowing that dirty little secret that is eating you inside out, still has your back and won’t ever leave you, the man who even though a long time ago was a playboy or a bad boy, that changed the moment he met you (apply these

we could all use a loyal friend

Credit: end post

to the female characterization). And I guess it is true, there is no such thing though I guess I am still looking for the closest thing to that. However, there is something else that is as unrealistic: loyal friendship.
As far as I remember I have been worried about other people’s looks and words directed towards me, it is so that I am now to asume that that is a fact about my personality. I look around, lets say to my friends, and I love them but it is nothing like those in the movies. I have no one to whom I am absolutely open. It is not like I don’t try or want to because I find myself blurting things I thought I would not say to no one yet I also do not tell the truth or say what is wrong when the questions are asked, so technically I am not 100% forward to none of my friends and certainly, when I am done I never ever pick up the phone and ring them, I simply do not do that.
By norm I don’t talk about people, my usual response to someone talking shit about others is a plain shrug, however there are glorious exceptions to this. Yet the thing is not what kind of behaviour I unconsciously tend to take but the fact that people talk about their friends to their backs. I’ve seen this among my lifelong group of friends, new friends, family members and their/our friends, and it keeps repeating and I don’t for a second thing that I lieva mong moraly corrupted people but that this is indeed something that everyone does.
And this little and very insecure voice inside me tells me over and over again: what happened to “I’ll love you NO MATTER WHAT”? What about the loyal, movie-like friendship?

Picture

I saw it, I cried

It came to me in a rush while I was sitting in a bus on my way to life. The bus crashing and an object of unknown origin perforated my lung. I could not breath but I still could feel my body elevating and falling hard somewhere else, bruising my ribs, and then at the sound of the bell, my head hit the ground and my consciousness left me scared and alone. Next thing, I was in unsufferable pain and doctors were unsure if I could make it.

And a tear crossed my sorrowful face, not for fear of death but for the fact that at 21 I was, indeed, dreaming of my dying.

Floure

On a october almost november day -in the rain

The day begins with an self-induced feeling of time control. I tell myself, over and over, that sleeping to the next dreadful good mooooorning of my alarm is ok, that nothing will happen, that I can do this, I can sleep till I can’t sleep no more. And indeed, I sleep until the time is my enemy and in victorious punishment forces me to run, run to cath the bus.
But I get there, because me being out of shape and having an ashma attack that almost makes me puke my lungs out will not stop me, not me! And I find women in an overcrowded stop. Many women, few men and some kids (that soon I find out that they happen to go to my uni but who cares, I say they are kids and so they are). And we queu in unorderly form, and I position myself on the first line of the grid but at the last minute a lady takes me by surprise and overtakes me from the left leaving me out of the podium #SadMe. Though it doesn’t matter because from yesterday to who-knows-when there is a bus strike and not me nor her nor the rest of 40,000 people in the bus will get a nice place to breathe, let alone to sit.
And the day goes by and in purely deppresive manner I start an introspection that leaves me to realize few things about myself:
1. I hate emails. They just bring bad news (e.g. more work to do) or unaffordable promotions
2. I’m mean to people and I regret nothing
3. I usually don’t make the promises I do to myself
4. I panick to cry without organization
So that’s it, my day.

Floure

Instant

Oh, look at [insert any famous/popular person’s name here]! S/he looks so sad in that picture! S/he was totally upset with her/his girlfriend/boyfriend/partner in crime/husband/wife/or whatever!

I never understood these kind of statements being made when there is a picture on a magazine or whatever other source. They read full novels within the frame of a picture, which often is croped or somehow altered, and by no means, because of the nature of photography, can give us the whole context. People say, or at least an Spanish saying says, that an image is worth a thousand words but I can’t fully agree with it, because I find it hard to believe what I don’t see with my own eyes; and because my eyes often lie.

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