My juju’s gone

I’ve been trying to write for days now, with no avail. I’ve been collecting a series of drafts that somehow I just couldn’t finish, I wasn’t feeling them. Have you ever lost your writing-juju? Is there anything you can do to get it back? I lost it for a week, and I’m not even sure if I really got it back, this is my first attempt at it.

Things have been moving forward though. I took the problematic memories I got back together with my horrible dreams to Mr. Shrinky’s office. We’re taking it little by little, but I’m handling these issues in a much better way, I’m no longer on edge or triggered. Also, my spring break is here! I’ve got two weeks off of work. Not that I can use them to rest, I still have a shitload of work to be done, but as BF wisely put it, I’d still have to do it with or  without the break. We are going on a flash trip to one of Mexico’s most famous villages, San Miguel de Allende, I’ll probably post some pics from there.

But I still don’t feel my juju back, where have you gone my dear juju! The thing is, despite what my “about” page says, I try not to post on WP the first ramblings that cross my mind, that’s what FB is for isn’t it? (I do post some of the same ramblings, but only after I’ve dipped them in some logic) I can even think about a bunch of things I’d like to talk about, but can’t really manage to write them down. So I’m pretty much screwed.

What do you do when your writing juju leaves you alone? I don’t think I can take it anymore!

https://notallaboutcats.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/funny-pictures-cat-has-writers-block.jpg

 

Is it awards season already?

So I got nominated for two awards y’all! I know many of you aren’t in the accepting awards business, but as I’ve said before, I’m a sucker for nominations, can’t help to be cheered up by them and that’s why I like to do an acceptance post and everything, please bear with me.

The first award was a gift from Petrel41 at Dear kitty. Some blog. I hadn’t heard from this one, but I’m honored I was thought of. The Reality Blog award is apparently an acronym for… well you can see it on the picture I guess.

reality-blog-award

I’m required to answer to five questions, so here it goes:

1) If you could change something what would you change?

I would stop animal suffering, starting by bull fights and animal testing.

2) If you could repeat an age, what age would it be?

My first years of college. I think that’s when I’ve been happier and more focused.

3) What one thing really scares you?

The universe, infinity scares the hell out of me. It’s funny coming from someone who gets depressed with beginnings and endings. I just can’t settle with anything can I??

4) What one dream have you not completed yet and do you think you will be able to complete it?

My PhD, and I think I’m slowly getting there.

5) If you could be someone else for the day, who would you be?

Someone happy. (It didn’t sound so sad in my head!)

The second one was a gift from Kat at Me: Finding the Missing Pieces who was so nice as to present me with an award I’d been looking forward to posting in my homepage as it’s so darn pretty :D, just take a look!

liebster-blog-award (1)

For this one I’m supposed to answer 11 questions, then choose 11 other nominees for this award, and then create 11 different questions for the nominees. I don’t know if number 11 is magic for someone or what’s the deal with the 11/11/11, but fine, I’ll do it (only because my magic number is 13 and I don’t want to add up more work lol)

1. What is your favorite thing to do when you have nothing else to do?

My answer should be divided in two parts. What I do in my free time when I’m OK and what I do when I’m depressed. (Which is quite often if you’ve been following me). In the first situation I would normally read, maybe watch a movie, and if I feel energized visit a museum, like I did on Saturday (yay!)

In the second case, I have to admit that I’ll sleep. A LOT. When I’m feeling down I just wish to be absent from the world and sleeping is the best answer for that. Also, I’ll simply be sleepy all the time so I’ll find time to sleep even when I don’t have that much spare time.

2. What is your favorite time of day, and why?

My absolute favorite part of the day is the late afternoon. For one thing, watching the sunset is simply awesome, and secondly, it is around the sunset that I feel very much energized,on the good days I even feel like I had a Red Bull or something.

3. Where is your favorite place?

The beach. I could live by the ocean without hesitation. The beach and the sea are soothing for me and I know I’ll have to live in a city by the sea sometime in my life.

4. Do you like to [be] busy all day, or have your day open?

I prefer to be busy doing things I choose to do, I hate days when time goes by doing something you dislike or simply don’t really want to do like, well, work.  😉

5. What is your favorite beverage?

Coffee! Thank God® for coffee!

6. Do you prefer to eat out, to have dinner made for you, or to make dinner yourself, and why?

I prefer a home cooked meal but since my cooking doesn’t go any further than sandwiches and quesadillas, I have to do with eating out. I am very picky about food though, so it’s sometimes difficult to find something I really like.

7. What is your favorite kind of pet, and why?

It’s a close call between cats and dogs. Right now I live with four enslavers cats so I guess I’d had to go with that, but dogs are also very good pets. As a pet, what I like most about cats is their independence, as an animal I love their wit and cuddling with them. As for dogs, their loyalty is what makes me think they’re awesome pets and their innocence and playfulness are the traits I like the most about them.

I love birds and fish, but I don’t like to have them as pets because it breaks my heart to see them held in cages, whether they’re made of steel or glass.

8. What is your favorite area of study (professionally or just for fun) and why?

History! Both professionally and for fun. I’m mean and I love to laugh at people, but if I do it in their face it’s usually considered rude. However, when they’re dead they can’t get you for it. Truth is I’ve found that nothing makes me laugh as much as history, and for that matter there’s hardly any other area of study that motivates me as much. I could definitely come up with a more serious answer, but my most honest one is this one.

9. What’s the most common thing you talk about with friends and family?

I don’t really talk much, but I guess it’d have to be something related to cats, lol.

10. Do you have a hobby or pastime, and if so, what is it and why do you enjoy it?

Reading and writing are my favorite hobby, and in my wildest dreams I make a living out of these two things. That’s why I’ve fallen in love with WP, I never would have thought I’d find so much talent and that I’d be so motivated to share my writing.

11.  Do you think we should have to do all this to get an award, and why or why not?

I think part of the point of accepting an award is sharing stuff about you, that’s what makes it interesting for others to read your post, so I agree with the part about answering questions about you. What I’m not so sure about is the part about nominating a specific number of blogs, I think we are free to nominate as many or as few as we choose.

And just because I’m nice like that, my nominations are double, so you get a combo ladies and gentlemen! Two awards for the post of one!

Needless to say, there’s no specific order in the nominations, and I did not nominate nearly as many bloggers as I would’ve liked. Actually, I think I’d like to give an award to so many bloggers, but I tried to choose ones I hadn’t nominated for something before. I chose these bloggers because I admire them and they inspire me everyday with their writing. Also, I tried to leave out people whom I know have award-free blogs, if I included you in the nominations and this is your case, sorry!

Anyhow, If I chose you, it’s because you bring light into my life, I appreciate you and your struggles. It makes me happy that you’re happy, and it makes me sad to read you’re sad. I also consider you a talented writer, and I think you should be rewarded for that.

Anyhow, the nominees are…!

As for the questions I’m suposed to propose, beware ’cause I’m in a silly mood right now, so don’t think too much into them. And here they are!

1) If you could be a historical character, who would you choose?

2) What is your favorite book?

3) Would you vote for me if I was running for president?

4) Do you have pets? Introduce them please!

5) If you were given 1 million dollars, what would you spend them on?

6) What do you like to read about?

7)  Favorite band? Music?

8) What makes you feel good when you’re down? (Go do it right now!)

9) If you could meet someone from the past who would it be?

10) Mac or PC?

11) If some non-profit organization asked you to blog for them, which one would it be?

Related articles:

It’s just sad

Trigger warning: self-harm is dealt with in this post.

So I talked to Mr. Shrinky about cutting one session from my treatment. He wasn’t happy about it but he understood, and said something that made my heart clinch a bit, that went a more or less like this: “it’s just sad that your emotional part has to pay up for the mess your outer part has made”. This remark hurt me a little, but not because I thought the comment was hurtful in any way, because it’s true. I just don’t know how to take care of my emotional being. I feed and clothe myself, I can manage to get by society’s requirements in a not-so-dreadful kind of way, but I just don’t know what to do with my inner me.

She’s always been left to mend for herself, and when she just can’t handle the pain anymore and sends s.o.s. signals to the outside, that’s when I cut, I cut until the pain is balanced between the outside and the inside. Or sort of anyways. I did it again on Saturday night, my anxiety pain was just too much, I felt I couldn’t breathe, it was surprising I wasn’t fainting or something thanks to it. And it felt good because it was soothing in a way, caring for my wounds felt as close to caring for my inner me as I could get at that point. And little me has way too much on her shoulders to begin with, and now she indeed has to pay for outer me’s rampage.

It just dawned on me right now that I really haven’t talked much about all the stuff that got me here in the first place, I guess I’m taking baby steps into it. When I first started this blog all I knew was that I needed to write and be read, even by just a handful of people. Writing has always been an amazingly powerful therapy for me, no matter what the topic is, and so I blogged about Mexico’s elections, the #132 movement, and the-thesis-that-must-not-be-named.

But then one night I felt like sharing a little about me, and a little more in another post, and next thing I know elections are out the window and I’m sharing my inner demons for the world to see. It was something entirely new and exhilarating in a way…though it was and continues to be scary and threatening because I don’t know who might read this and if they’ll judge me, and because talking about me in any form has never come easy for me.

So far I couldn’t be more pleased with what I’ve gotten from blogging, most importantly the people I met through doing it. Empirically finding out you’re not alone and that there are people going through stuff you can relate to, well it helps a long way, so thank you for being there!

P.D.

I know I know, this post is all over the place, but these were things I needed to get of my chest.

The Frankenthesis strikes again

I don’t consider me a New Year’s Day Grinch, but I do wonder what the fuzz is all about. The firts day of the year is always a dead day, nobody’s out on the street, everything’s closed, and your supposed to enjoy the quietness and calm around you. Well, I don’t. Even more, this calm worries me because I fear that’s one of the reasons why Sundays are so hard on me. That’s what it’s come to, I’m feeling just a hint of a chest pain, but I’m terribly scared of what it may become as the day goes by, because it can get so strong it amazes me it doesn’t kill me. So I’m gonna try to keep busy, probably reading and working on the Frankenthesis. I haven’t finished a couple of books and I might get to that.

As for the thesis, I didn’t deliver what I was supposed to in December, and now I have a lot more work to get done by Jan 15th, and I’m not sure how exactly I’m going to manage to get it done. If only I’d type on it as many words as I have on this blog, I’m sure I would’ve finished it by now 🙄 and I have to admit I need all the cheering up I can get to work hard and maybe finish what I’m supposed to.

This time around, New Year’s Day is reminding me of everything I didn’t accomplish, of all the different ways I messed up, and all the problems I got myself into, money being the most worrying one. I guess I’m feel a little ripped out because people act as if  on Jan 1st everybody got a clean slate, and I don’t see that. What I see is a reminder that time keeps going by, it doesn’t stop and everything we do keeps adding to our tab.

All I got left, and I realize it’s a very big thing, is the hope that things will get better, and man do I need a brighter horizon to keep me going right now! Hope is the fuel that so many times keeps our engines running when all evidence says there’s no point. And today I can be thankful that I do feel the warmth of hope (however small it may be) in my heart to keep me going.

I realize this is a bittersweet post (that’s a little more bitter than sweet), but still let me take the time to wish you all a happy 2013 full of happy moments and goals achieved, and a year that brings you as least sorrow as possible! 🙂

What the Frankenthesis looks like these days.(Image credit: http://www.craftycrafty.tv)

What the Frankenthesis looks like these days.
(Image credit: http://www.craftycrafty.tv)

Sharing the good stuff

The lovely Attachment Girl from The Boundary Ninja Tales has nominated me for the Wonderful Team Member Readership Award. I was glad and surprised that such a talented bologger whom I admire so much would consider me for an award, so thank you so much AG!!!!

For the first two awards this blog got, received when it was still wearnig diappers, I was excited and very happy, but didn’t really know what to do with them besides sticking them on my home page. Now I know a little bit better, and in case I didn’t, this one comes with a set of instructions, which are as follow:

The Rules

1. The Nominee of the Wonderful Team Member Readership Award will display the logo on his/her post/page and/or sidebar.
 
2. Over a period of 1 week, the Nominee shall nominate a number of readers that he or she appreciates – this can be done at any rate during the week. It can be all on one day or a few on one day and a few on another day, as most convenient to the Nominee. – 

This is my list of Nominees, there are obviously some more readers whom I appreciate very much, I just based this list on people who have left over here comments I’ve particularly appreciated:

Buckwheat @ Buckwheatsrisk

Benjamin @ Expressions of my life

Melanie @ Deliberate Donkey

Purple Pineapple @  Purple Pineapple

Goldfish @ Fish of Gold

Aallegoric @ Always Allegoric

Inés @ Inesdelorange

3. The Nominee shall name his or her Wonderful Team Member Readership Award nominees on a post or on posts during the 7 day (1 week) period.

4.  The nominee shall answer the questions, all in the spirit of fun!

1) Why do you blog?
I’m not really sure, I guess it’s some kind of exorcism. I’ve always written, but have only recently gotten fond of sharing it. Letting my thoughts out, wether they are deep or an absolute waste of time and space, has somehow helped me deal with my personal issues, including my mental health. One thing’s for sure, I love it, I think it may even be a little adictive, but hey! who doesn’t need a healthy addiction right?

2) If you were trapped on a desert island, what book, DVD, food, cartoon character, and childhood game would you bring?

Book: Following AG’s example I won’t, because I can’t, choose just one, but five: First of all The Little Prince a book that gives a lot of meaning to my life (I even have a tattoo that proves it!). Second, The Sea Wall by Marguerite Duras; third, the very gem of my personal library, my very own William Shakespeare Complete Works; fourth, my Selected Works of Virginia Woolf; and fifth, a little reading from my field, Latin American Women: Historical Perspectives, an awesome book that helped me define what I want to do with my life.

DVD: The Lord of the Rings trilogy
Food: Sushi
Cartoon Character: Candy Candy (japanese anime for girls, good times! :))
Childhood Game: This one took me a lot of time and I simply can’t say, how sad is that!? Can it be a childhood book? lol. Let’s say yes, in which case I’ll say Harry Potter. I’m part of the lucky generation that went from the teen years to young adulthood reading Mrs. Rowling, and I would have given up absolutely any game to get a hold of my Harry Potter series 🙂

3) Share a funny joke or one-liner.
Gosh I’m might have to google one, I’m terrible with jokes!

4) What is your favorite thing about yourself?
Mmm, my Tetris skills? Either that or my ability of being an observer.
5) What one word best describes you?
Curious.

6) If you could have a lifetime supply of any candy/candy bar, what would it be?

Technically it’s not a candy but I say ice-cream counts. I choose Ben & Jerry’s Cherry García, yummie!

7) What fictional character do you relate to most?

This is a tricky one, but I guess I’d have to go with Marguerite from The Lover and The Sea WallThe autobiographic novels by Marguerite Duras made a profoun impact on me, for obvious reasons like the tragic relationship ( don’t really know how to call it, but problematic seems like an understatement) she and her mother have or her affair with a much older man, but also for the way she transmits the pain that comes from family trauma or being a victim of emotional abuse, of not being able to feel loved and important, of remaining always a runner up in people’s affections. Duras is absolutely and without a doubt my favorite author, and I would advise anyone who loves literature to read her, her other works like The War are also amazingly accurate in transmitting pain; there’s another short novel called L’Amante Anglaise which deals with a psychoanalitic approach to a puzzling bloody murder (which happens to be comitted on MY birthday! Yet another thing I can relate to, however strange it may be)… ok ok I’ll leave it here, but only because Duras deserves a whole post, which I’ll get to later on.


8) If you were to write the story of your life, what would you call it?

9 lives

This is (not) a happy post

Someone told me the other day that I have a good, though somewhat sad, blog. I made the point that I thought my blog was at least sometimes a little bit funny; the answer was: “yeah, if by funny you mean having a dark twisted humor”.

Now, since this person happened to be my BF, and since I sort of value his opinion more than that from the rest of  humankind, I’m determined to writing at least one happy post every once in a while…well, maybe once every other ice age.

That being said, my Monday started in a very sh*tty way. I didn’t have my morning coffee, I messed up at work first thing in the morning, and I had an absolute lack of energy despite having agreed yesterday to a painful and dangerous torture that promised to give me more energy (also know as a B-vitamin injection). My day didn’t look to good, I was already swearing and feeling very depressed, and it wasn’t even 10 am!

Still, right now I’m feeling better and my afternoon has the unique opportunity of picking me up. I’m gonna eat with BF, have an afternoon coffee, and rant away in therapy, after which maybe I’ll feel up for preparing my stuff  for tomorrow and avoiding being in a hurry in the morning.

This is as happy as I can get right now, but I promise I’ll try not to always be so dark and twisted, though I must say it sounds far more interesting than being a happy-go-lucky girl (or maybe I’m just saying this because I don’t know how to be a little carefree?).

I hope you enjoy the rest of your Monday!

Stray Bullet

I’ve managed to do it again. Self sabotage is apparently something I can never get enough of. I was supposed to meet my tutor today to show her my progress on the chapter I’m currently working in. The meeting was just an hour after I leave work so I had to run to get there…just to tell her I had left at home the above mentioned progress (not that it was anything to be proud of in the first place). At first I hoped it wouldn’t matter all that much since we had to get into the corrections I thought she was going to give me from the last chapter I handed in…but it turns out she’s only going to give me those after I hand everything in. So basically the meeting was pointless and I could see she was mad, and she had every reason to be so. Come to think about it, a lot of people have good reasons to be mad art me…including me.

I just don’t know what to do with myself… and all I feel like doing is listening to Manu Chao, maybe he can make things a little bit better tonight.

The lyrics on this song go more or less like this:

My life… little light with no candle

My blood from the wound

Don’t make me suffer anymore

My life…stray bullet

Through the highway

Slum puddle

I don’t want you to go

I don’t want you to move away

Every day a little more

My life…little light with no candle

My life…dark water puddle

Soap bubble

My last refuge

My last hope

I don’t want you to move further away each day

My life… little light with no candle

My blood from the wound

My life

Don’t make me suffer no more

Up against myself

So I skipped my job today. Second time this month. So much for my functional adult being in charge… After a huge fight last night, I simply didn’t wake up on time. So much for my 5 (I swear, 5) morning alarms…

The only thing worse than being absolutely pissed at someone is to be terribly pissed at yourself. And since I can’t scream to myself, I’ll try to make the most out of the unexpected time I have. I’ll work on the chapter that’s due on November, finish my lesson plan for next week, and if I manage to be in a better mood, maybe even read my Proust.

Right now there’s a big argument going on inside my head. There’s my nerdy self feeling like the world’s about to end over the fact that I’m probably a complete failure at my job and I should probably just quit it to stop pretending I’m not. On the other side of the ring there’s my cynical self thinking stuff like: they’ll probably just deduct this day from my paycheck and that’s it, the worse thing that could happen is me loosing my job, in which case I’d just have to find another one; but they won’t dismiss me ’cause, where are they going to find another not entirely sucky teacher in the middle of October? If I could only pick a side and stay there, but I guess that’s impossible when both sides of the argument come from within you…

This feeling of being torn into 2 completely different different personalities has been growing stronger since I consciously acknowledged it some weeks ago. It has become so obvious that I don’t know how could I not recognize it sooner. There’s one side of me that builds, prepares for the rainy days, exercises, reads, is a straight A student; this side is also the one that can’t take no for an answer, the one that obsesses, that prefers to be alone and avoids being in social situations as much as possible. The other side is a destroyer, it goes about tearing apart what the other side builds, the one that smokes and curses and hates exercising, the one that avoids doing what has to be done until the very last possible moment (wich means an absolute torture to the other side), and sometimes it’s even successful in its task of not meeting deadlines. But this is also the side that knows how to have fun, to relax, that’s funny, extroverted, lets things go and remembers to have a chocolate every now and then.

So it’s not as easy as having a dark and a bright side, it’s more like having two people with their own dark and bright spots fighting each other for survival inside a single body, a single brain, and a single identity. It’s like watching a tennis match and wanting both opponents to win… no matter what the result is, you know you won’t be satisfied.

In the meantime, I’ll set a sixth alarm for tomorrow.

I cut myself, I want you to love me

I don’t remember when was the first time I hurt myself, but I know I started doing in on a regular basis as a teenager, after a couple of harsh isolated episodes when I was around 12 or 13. I don’t know if I enjoyed being in pain, I just remember I was desperate for attention, but my efforts were always futile, so it turned into my own little private ritual to take out all of my anger on me. Yes, it sounds dumb. To take out on yourself the anger caused by the abuse donde to you in the first place. But when you feel your blood boiling with anger inside your veins and you know the blade will make it stop, sometimes you just don’t stop to think about the pros and cons of it.

However, cutting makes it better only for a very short time, and after that it makes it worse. The anger certainly stops, but as time goes by and I realize how pointless and stupid my actions are, I start to fall into a depression that’s almost handicapping at times, and its a fight uphill to be able to feel functional again.

The difference this time around is that I’m talking about it (not without some pressure from Mr. Shrinky). I told my partner, which was pretty hard, and I guess know I’m letting it out into the world, something I probably wouldn’t have done without meeting such brave and amazing people and their blogs here at WP. And now that I’ve done it, that I’ve shared it, it actually feels just a little bit better, almost as if I were exorcising at least one of my demons. If I could only not feel that kind of anger again… all that seems to help right know, besides this, is Proust, so I’ll leave this little piece of me right here and continue my reading.

Chaotic Organization

I can’t seem to balance what I want to do with what I have to do and what others want me to do, such as having to work, having to finish my thesis, while hoping to one day (that seems to be further away each day) being able to do the things I actually want. All of this, having people pushing and pushing on one side for me to finish this antiquated rite of passage while on the other I have more (if not the same) people expecting me to be able to meet economic responsibilities that started long ago before I could manage them and continue even when I never really had the proper  time to mentally and pragmatically prepare for them. I feel like I am being forced to bake a cake without the proper ingredients (not that I will ever do such a thing).

Still, I also don’t feel like I have plausible reasons to bitch about it ’cause the way I see it, the situation here in Mexico is getting darker and darker by the moment, and I’ll hopefully be writing about it soon enough, since right now I’m stealing hours from my most needed sleep to catch up on my other writing, the one I keep talking about but stays offline.

And about that, I’ve been thinking about creating an anonymous blog, maybe that could be more helpful to me and definitely more entertaining. I of course will not be linking it to this one but I thought I’d share the news anyways. It may sound like I have all the time in the world to spam my two readers with my babbling, but I guess it’s just a matter of getting my sh*t together.

I will however promise myself to work on my organizational skills all through the month the remaining week and see if it sticks, since this Monday was my first day at a new job doing something I had kinda thought I wouldn’t do again: teach English to elementary kids. This will require me to force my usual chaotic self to take a hike at least in the mornings, I’ll report on the results.

In the meantime, here’s the first image I have of one of my students:

Image

One does not simply “write” a thesis

You should know this post started out in Spanish. I simply didn’t feel like writing in English… or so I thought, and before my text resulted in a reasonable causality for a linguist’s heart attack I decided to go back to my adoptive language (still not sure of who adopted who).

I’m meeting my thesis director tomorrow afternoon. I’m considerably afraid of her. The worst part is that there’s no justifiable reason to do so. She’s not only an academic warrior and someone to look up to professionally, but also a very nice person, and whenever I come down with my regular this-thesis-is-a-joke mood, she’s the one to show me all the good things about it. In short, I’m scared of her and ashamed for being so. I’m meeting her tomorrow and as I sat a moment ago wondering what it was that made me so uncomfortable when she’s so nice even as she helps me work out every millimeter or my work, I thought that it really isn’t her whom I’m afraid of, but my thesis.

Grabbing it and working with it has become something similar to working with The Monster Book of Monsters (go google it…ready?…let’s continue). And when anyone tries to stick their nose into the matter, it’s usually on the tone of: it’s just a matter of sitting down and writing it, I just feel like paraphrasing poor tortured Tolkien’s Boromir and screaming: ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY “WRITE” A THESIS!, though what actually comes out is a low, pathetic little voice saying “yeah, you’re right”. Of course they’re not right! Are they? Well, maybe… The fact is the “writing” process is coming close to a whole year and even though I’m working in the fourth chapter, I feel like I’m moving as fast as Frodo and Sam inside Mordor (gosh..maybe I should re-name this blog: Almost Everything About The Lord of The Rings…) and yes, just as them, as I get closer and closer to achieving my goal, the task becomes harder and harder. So I guess what I urgently need is a way of dealing with my pathologic fear of my own thesis.

By the way, while wasting valuable time researching important issues on the web, I found this (though I guess my thesis won’t have tea and cookies with me anytime soon): Image

And finally, to honor the actual name of this blog, I should report that exactly a week ago Mrs. Gobby was lost and found. She fell dow the balcony of her first floor flat and spent a couple of hours hiding in some bushes, which has resulted in her becoming the most spoiled and neediest ensalver cat ever.

Writing Ghosts

Ever since I can remember stories have been holding me together. Wether in the form of small plots or entire novels I would create for myself, mere day dreams or elaborated fantasies, there has been a world inside of me with varying levels of importance depending on how much I’ve needed it to survive.

The first elaborated story I remember writing was some sort of foundational myth with gods and wars and Creation, and it all resumed in the Universe creating me and my mother. I was 6 or 7 and have no idea where my story went.  But though the imagination has stopped at times, the writing has been a continuum. My narrative certainly became scarce when my adoration for literature grew more and more, making me realize I had no job competing with my idols; however, the physical action of the writing in itself gives me a sutil pleasure I’m not sure I can effectively describe.

The futile action of holding and using any kind writing device makes my heart beat in a different way. It can be a pen, marker, preferably a pencil, and even a keyboard… anything goes; and when I’m feeling low, the very words that are ripped out of me through the chosen item seem to have a life of their own. The therapeutic sound and the feel of the tip of the pencil sliding rhythmically as I write, or the touch of my fingers dancing through the keyboard making what to me sounds like music, is sometimes good enough to uncover and free whatever demons have been feasting on me.

The thing is, those are the exact kind of writings I seem to be unable of sharing because they expose me in the deepest way. That’s also the reason why I think most of my idols were not only amazing writers but absolute heroes, because they were brave enough to share themselves and their inner world with outsiders, with strangers who might praise on their work and whom’d tear it apart in a second. As for me, I think I might be something of a Gollum-like writer, holding my precious close to my heart while hiding it in deep dark caverns that no one should ever find.

Aaanyhow, that’s the reason why my attempt of a blog wasn’t updated lately, and so before this turned out to be just another thing I started and never saw through, I thought I should write about NOT writing, well, at least not writing for anyone else except me.

And my three faithful readers might be asking just exactly what has gotten me off my blogger mood in the past few days. Well, to keep with my Lord of the Rings analogy let me just say that I feel like the war against the Dark Lord has just been lost. No one came in our help and we were simply outnumbered. As I see it, Mexico has been lost to Mordor and we are just gonna have to learn to live under the regime of dark wizards and their orcs, while knowing we had the chance to end it all for good and we decided not to.

Election day came and went, and after the electoral prosecutor’s office has basically declared that anything goes and nothing’s gonna be made about it, Mexico’s gonna have to put up with a president 60% of mexican voters did not choose. A man accused of murder, a proven repressor, with no political career and who could not mention 3 books read by him, is going to rule over me, woohoo!

Sure, AMLO is a bad looser, if it means not putting up with fraud and resisting an election which was bought vote by vote. Being a “good” looser would then mean to act as the female PAN candidate, who recognized her loss with only 2% of the votes accounted for and who has not spoken a word against the proven vote-buying and constraint.

Ha, I think I managed to trick myself, started talking about me and my demons, ended up talking about my country’s demons… guess mine have locked themselves up for the night, and I’m gonna let them tuck me in ’cause I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, and so does Mr. Sylvestre Bombon, who left the realm of the awake a while ago.Image

The Butterfly Effect

I’ve always been one to observe people. Most of the time they’re gestures, attitude, or sometimes even their tone speak louder to me than the words coming out of their mouths. I guess I’m more of a looker than a hearer, and it does get me in trouble every once in a while when someone catches me off guard and notices how I didn’t seem to pay attention to a word they just said; it’s just that I wasn’t paying attention to what they wanted me to, but to what they usually don’t want me to.

Now, when it comes to being watched, I’m probably no more comfortable than most people, but most people don’t really seem to notice or observe others so I’m not usually in that place. And then there are the tattoos: a butterfly sniffing a flower on my lower belly, and The Little Prince flying away from his planet on my upper back. I never imagined they would prompt such a wide range of reactions, or that people would tend to be so eager to share them with me.  Some probably won’t ever see them or notice them, but when they do, especially for the first time, chances are they’ll want to tell me all about it.

However, noticing their reaction does tell me more about them than the other way around. The one I like the most is the honest no-reaction face, where they’ll see them just like something completely ordinary, add them to their recollections of me, and then we can move on and forget about it; maybe they’ll even be mentioned in the future, though more as a natural part of people sharing themselves. The funniest one is the pretend-I-saw-nothing face, where the person in particular will have to gather all of her strength just to NOT look at them, it will bother me a little bit but mostly it will entertain me. Then there’s the Ahem-excuse-me-I-don’t-know-you-but-I-love-your-tattoo reaction, which doesn’t entirely piss me off though it’s still uncomfortable to have some complete stranger telling you how much they love a part of your body. The opposite reaction I’ve only had once, and it left me so shocked I didn’t even know how to respond; I was writing my name down on a list before a lecture, when this old folk taps on my shoulder and goes “Excuse me, but is that the Little Prince?”, “Why, yes. Yes it is sir”, “Oh, I thought so… I guess it’s nice, though why would you want something like that on your back?…Well, to each their own, right?”, to which I could only answer in a soft voice: “Indeed”. And I was almost forgetting about the one where simple acquaintances expect me to share my tats’ personal meanings like we’re talking about what we had for breakfast.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that the least of my concerns when I get tattooed is people’s reaction to my chosen modification, though it’s something I have to deal with every once in a while. I also wonder if it’s something cultural, and what other people with a lot more tats and piercings may have to deal with here in Mexico, ’cause if this happens to a fresa girl who’s got just a few tats… Anyway, of course this is no reason for me to hide them, of course I like to have them seen and appreciated, and most times I’ll even share their story if asked, but don’t expect me to always be in the mood for it, because the way I decide to live within my body is not a free pass for everybody to give me their opinion about it every single time. (I swear it din’t sound so bitter in my head!)

By the way, this is the reaction I absolutely love the most. It comes from Mrs. Gobby and it is wordless, has a perfect balance between awe and approval, and if you can manage to put this face on for my tattoos, or even better, just for me, I’ll adore you! (though I have to say, if you’re reading this, you probably lack the mandatory whiskers needed for that).

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