24

Tanto tiempo....tan poco tiempo

Here i go again

I remember a song that starts that way. But that's off-topic. I write because I want this to be my escape route (no pun intended). Because of my lack of enthusiasm about life and all the beautiful things that the world has to offer (do you feel sarcasm? you should). I hope to go to school and find a rich and vibrant plural ambient. I don't know if there is really such a thing but what I see is some bunch of people that are there for whatever reason but learning, and some people that are there for whatever reason but learning. I don't find joy going there and then I ask myself "did I do right throwing what I knew for pursuing this?" But then I see...what else could I do? and that leads me to feel trapped. Of course, there are things that I know I must do, that I must think, but it annoys me that my only option to do it in a proffessional way has to be this twisted and flawed. I have games that I play on a daily basis, but is more a routine that an enjoyment. I wake up and don't know what to do. I see the newspaper and don't know. I travel back and fort to the place that I call home and feel the way. And I don't know what to do. I don't know what I can do. Or why I can make a good decision. A decision that starts to show that I am in the right way. I'm desperated and if this are not the right decisions then I don't know which the fuck ones are. Ohhh anger that flows I just want to let it go and let all go. Anyway, it's late now. Good Night.

Well then...

Too bad when I write in english. It means one thing: a boring confession, maybe a lament or a complain against the unfairness of life, of humanity, of the Universe, God and everything else. But somehow there is something I need, at least for today, at least for tonight. Because at this moment, there is no human being around me, there is no one I can rely on. And even if someone was here, I don't know I would be able to speak. Speaking is a difficult task. Speaking with the truth, the truth inside, the truth of my being. And what is that truth. I can't tell. It's even hard to write it. But I can resume it in some words: sadness, weariness, anger, fear. Rejection can be felt even through the internet and yet still hurts. Yet one find oneself worthless. And I fear that. People speaks to me and ask me "how are you". I don't want to say...I don't feel good. I don't want to bother. But I also need it. People annoy me...people hurt me...but yet I yearn human contact. What a paradox

El porque un perro maldito no puede ser amigo de un miserable cabron parte II.

¿Un malvado puede ser amigo de otro malvado? Eso me preguntaba el otro día y lo escribí aquí. Una pregunta inútil, o irrelevante. Yo no lo creo. Siendo que la amistad es un punto básico en la interacción entre los humanos, ponerse a pensar un poquito acerca de ello puede iluminarnos.

En lo personal, amistad para mi solo seria aquella entre dos personas buenas, que se buscan en si mismas. Habrá quien se busque por ser útil (conveniencia le dicen) o por placer. Muchas veces a estas dos últimas situaciones se les denomina -malamente- amistad.

¿Y esto que tiene que ver conque los malvados sean amigos entre si? Pues el hecho de que los malvados no buscan "lo bueno" ¿o acaso se asocian para causas nobles?

No. De manera general podría decirse que se buscan por el interes que tienen de sus actos, de modo que sus asociaciones tendrían que ser por una utilidad.

Verdadera amistad...no creo.

La verdadera amistad resulta difícil. Dificil de definir, y aún mas de alcanzar. Es esto la complejidad de las relaciones con los otros, con aquellos mundos que se esconden detrás de cada mirada que encontramos. De eso escribiré luego buscando aclarar mis pensamientos y, si tengo suerte, también los suyos.

El porque un perro maldito no puede ser amigo de un miserable cabron.

¿Es la amistad algo bueno? ¿es algo que se desea, sin lo que la vida resulta difícil o incluso inconcebible?

La respuesta a estas preguntas parece ser si. La presencia de la amistad resulta evidente en el universo de las relaciones humanas y frecuentemente resulta algo importante en la vida de todos.

Es algo bueno, quiza porque nos da bienestar, una sensación de que ese aspecto de la existencia y las relaciones produce sensaciones agradables y tambien sensaciones placenteras.

De nuevo, no soy omnisciente ni nada de eso, pero esto me lleva a pensar mas a fondo en algo que lei.

¿Pueden los malvados ser amigos entre sí?

Pretendía escribir esto en este momento, pero la pereza es mucha. Seguire en la próxima entrega.

Comenzar, nacer, etc.

Me abstendre en estos momentos de hacer cualquier alusión a lo típico o sea, quejas, lamentos, puntualización de lo malo, etc.

El año nuevo (que realmente es una convencionalidad, pero bueno, esa es otra historia) por lo general brinda sensaciones de esperanza y de propósitos, buscando un cambio en nuestras propias actitudes, nuestra suerte, nuestras circunstancias y pone en nuestras mentes, si bien, de manera breve, la idea de comienzo. Esto me recuerda ciertas ideas de Hannah Arendt, respecto al nacimiento (de los humanos) que bien podrían ser adecuadas:

el nuevo comienzo inherente al nacimiento se deja sentir en el mundo sólo porque el recién llegado posee la capacidad de empezar algo nuevo, es decir, de actuar...

Es todo por el momento...

Queja

MALDITO INTERNET QUE NO FUNCIONA BIEN AL MENOS ME DEJO ENTRAR A BLOGGER A QUEJARME WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I know this is no twitter.

But somehow, working out seems to purify the mind as well as helping the body.

Perhaps...perhaps....perhaps....

Just perhaps...

Stranded in the wrong side...

Yep, and the wrong side is maybe this world...somehow it seems I cannot fit into it...why? Don't know...

Inner turmoil.

I was planning to write some actually interesting stuff (or so I think). But the lure of writing the same crap as usual is great. Maybe I just need to get rid off this turmoil that makes me feel weird...angry...worried, a turmoil that also forces me to think that I am as important for the people as a stone or some dirt...anyway...it's late.

See you all later.

Castaway

Somehow this strange feeling came tonight. Hence the title. Castaway. Stranded in a strange island. I can see the people. I am close through internet, phone, even presence to the people...but somehow I cannot be closer. And that feeling makes me anxious. Makes me fearful. Fearful of my abilities to connect to those people. At the end, it's just another manifestation of one basic fear: the fear of being alone.

Yep, feelings still coming, I just had to write it.

Going to write later...

Memento...

Even if I tried to get rid of all mementos of one person, coincidence didn't mean to let me go without at least one. And even if I didn't have that memento, my own mind keeps lots of records. The past is present through the labyrinths of the mind. This last weekend was boring like hell, like most weekends sadly. The night was long...restless. In that restlessness, memories came. The memories that cause nostalgia. I remember how we laughed, how we talked, when we played, when we hughed. And I miss that. I know that our relationship was just friendship. Nothing more. Sadly, all the good moments are tainted to a certain degree with the memories of what happened after...jealousy, sadness, heartbreakin'.

But still I miss the moments we spend together. And I remember. And rejoiced of the feeling that I had at the time. Even if that is in the past, and present and future don't show anything. But this are just ramblings of the insomnia....Good night...

Day after day, time after time, thing after thing.

Well, I'm here again writing. I have been refraining myself of doing it. There wasn't any reason to do so. On the other hand, there were plenty of motivations to write. What happened? It remains a mistery. Might be human nature. As far as I have seen, lots of human beings do things that they know can be nocive for their mental and physical health. And stop doing things that can improve them of make them feel better. A couple don't say "I love you" even when they feel that way. A son to his parents. One friend to each other. Days ago, this was the personal message from someone in MSN: "Actions, not words are which count". Or something like that. At a certain point, I disagree. Words can have incredible power. I hate you. I despise you. You are worthless. Those are words that you wouldn't like to hear (unless you're masochist or have some strange issue). I love you, I want to be with you, I like the way you are, I care about you, you're not alone. Those are the words you actually would like to hear. Everything counts: words and actions.

Then why someone who likes to write chooses not to do it. Maybe his thoughts are not clear. Maybe he is afraid of being misunderstood. Maybe thinks, again, that no one cares or that the people thinks "well...he's like that". As you, dear reader, can see, this argument doesn't have anything that sustains it. Telephaty isn't true (yet), so, it's difficult (impossible) to know someone thoughts, unless they are manifested in someway: speech, writing, even a painting could do the job. So, there is no reason to be silenced. At least, nothing rational.

But there is much more than rationality in human beings. That is the tip of the iceberg, an utopic state that cientists would like to achieve.

Then, the irrational being starts to scream. I am afraid. I am afraid of being lonely. I am afraid of being hopeless. Afraid that not even doctors and medicines can fix my fears and anguish. Afraid of losing the few friends that I have. Afraid that I won't find "someone" (you know what I mean) afraid of being here, angry and afraid, just wasting the oxygen. Afraid of causing my family grief...

Afraid of the people that can judge my life, afraid of not living...afraid of being death...before even live....

Well, this was a release, now I need to occupy myself in something that helps me. Cause even if I'm afraid I'm not giving up.

Unas cuantas lineas para desenmarañar (o enmarañar) una cuestión

And as fucking usual I shall do that writing in english. I have found the reason what I do this, I don't remember if I have written about it, but when I write in this foreign language, somehow I feel that I am a bit apart of myself, as if I where a story's narrator. This "technique" is the shield that raises to defend myself. Defend me of what? Probably from the world. These days I've been more conscious about the necessity of bonding and establish social and significant relationships. I am not a social scientist, I just have some personal experience and the non methodical observations that I've made through life. And observing me I came to a conclusion: why do I do things that I don't want to do? I yearn for a life. Always envious of those people that have strong ties, lots of friends, always smiling, always in parties.

On the other hand, I retreat. Every chance I have, I retreat. And it makes me sad. I do it, and it's difficult and near to impossible to avoid it. These are the thoughts that come to me, when I read the blog of a friend. (Well, not a friend, a relative of a friend). It' is late. I want to sleep and don't want to. I want so many things. But clearly my brain is lackin' of something right now and my thoughts and writings aren't as organized and clear as I would like to, so, this is it for now...

OMG!!! I haven't written in weeks....

Yes. My bad. Though, there hasn't been much to write. Started school again. Trying to look another source of income, and, above all, continuing the neverending war. Yeah, I'm in a constant strife to sustain peace (and I know that is paradoxical). Peace of mind I mean. I don't think I could achieve world piece if there is no peace in myself. But suddenly, things became violent inside my mind. Thoughts that I want to go away. But somehow, I'm still here. Writing. I would like to do it on a more regular basis. Maybe I should start with something modest. Once a week. Then I'll see. As usual, music appears and plays an important role: it's a well of sanity. Or at least helps in a positive way. Doesn't matter if the songs are sad or cheery, its catartic properties appear undeniable to me.
This is what I'm listening at the moment...




So long...Sir Francis Bacon awaits for me.

Master and Commander.

Sometimes I would just like to be master and commander of my body, my mind, my soul. Most of the time, it looks that it is just the opposite. Weird things of life. Hehehe

I want to sleep, and to runaway, to leave this starcrossed place behind.

Yeah, I want to leave, to runaway, runaway from this feeling of loneliness and despair. To runaway from my grieves. As I said before, seems to be that I'm in great need, but somehow, unable to ask for help in a proper way. I want to escape and want to find something good. I want to be fixed, I want to heal, and, again, hear some friendly voice, feel a huge, feel hope that things are going to be mended.

Those are my hopes this afternoon, while I feel drowziness and awkwardness...

But I still have hope

It's all in your mind.

Yeah, that's what the song says. This day seemed to be just another day. Another quiet day, maybe boring, maybe not. This day I was trying to make my mind clear. To acknowledge my issues, but also, acknowledge my capacity to get over them, and to put on faith and hope those things that I cannot affect by my direct intervention. Suddenly I was in my bussiness, giving a look to some books in a store. Then I heard that voice. I was compelled to stay, why should I had to go anyway? My determination just lasted a few seconds, after which I practically start running. Running towards nowhere. Confused. Saddened and angered. The past doesn't leave. The past still exists. And suddenly I started to think about how far do I feel from my friends, my beloved friends, my family (the human race). All the solutions that I was trying to find to my life start to crumble. I called a friend because I wanted to hear a friendly familiar voice, to somehow overcome the feeling of loneliness that was upon me. I felt angry and guilty. Between the mess of my mind and memories, I don't know if that situation was my fault. If I failed as a person, If I didn't do the right thing. If the feelings that I had towards that person were right. Why I felt that way? I didn't asked to feel it. Nor was my election. It just happened. I cared about. I loved? Maybe. It's hard to tell right now. All this days wishing to find myself in front that person and now that it happens...well...this. I just want this to go away from my life. I wished I could forget. I wish we could be friends again. I wish we can hug again. But it seems to be not possible. It seems to be weird. It's late again...Good night.

Un saludo.

Así es, saludo a aquellos que aun creen en cuentos chinos.