Excess and Lack.

I don't know why waiting rooms have this annoying illumination. Whether is a hospital, an office, a school, the driver's licence department, an airport or bus terminal; all the waiting rooms must have uncomfortable chairs, eye piercing lights and, if you're lucky, bad smell and great potential of boredom.

And also, the hiding possibility of deception. Usually, the situations in which you have to be waiting in such compartments, are the ones when you can be extremely nervous, expectant, hoping for something: the health of a beloved one, a swift journey, a job or a place at school.

Yes. Being there is not pleasant at all. And yet you have to do it very often. But it becames a bit harder when you feel ill prepared, even if you have proven to be good. Nevermind, you're not what they need. You're plane already took off.

It doesn't matter if you search through your notebook, reading the highest thoughts of the greatest mind, knowing that you have commited to them, learned them, hoping to reach them in their all-glowing virtue. The facts are: you need to do something: drag yourself into the world of sycophancy, to beg for a few coins while you try to not be crushed by the weight of the thoughts you set so high upon you.

Acting like if your maxims where to be universal laws start to become meaningless. Also the abiding of love. The power of virtue. Even the striving to persevere in life. All starts to fade out and then you wonder if discovering such thoughts wasn't a big mistake, if it is really that ignorance is bliss.

But there is no turning back. The blessing or course cannot be lifted. The first moment of commitment with such ideas was a crossroad. The road has been chosen. And somehow it is neccesary to figure out, how to walk it...

Otoño

Goodbye.

Today, a dear friend of mine asked me why I was saying "Goodbye" on some instant messaging service. I was reluctant to admit my motivations to him, so, that's why I am writing them on the internet, so everyone can read them. Last week, I realized that every second, every day, even if we don't notice it, we say goodbye. To the sun at the dusk, to a fleeting moment when it passes, to our present when it becomes the past. All the people we see through the day...we say goodbye to them.  Every part of our life passes through us, so, wether we like it or not, is a farewell. Most of these are forever indeed. But the magic, and/or the tragedy, is that we don't know that. And we may never knew. Great affairs usually take all of our attention, be at their beginnings, or at their endings. At that moment, we do realize the magnitude of goodbyes. But, what about every moment and little event, the sum of that line we call life? We are always parting. Until we part definitely.

Verano

Stately, plump...

Yes, I know, I used the very beginning of one of the greatests books in literature's history. Yes, it is a probably futile scam to lure some unwary readers into this swirling vortex of... oh nevermind. Actually I wanted to write about the topic that I know the least: human relationships. Certainly, as self-ostracism seemed to be the chosen lifestile (at least in spirit) for a while, I cannot talk about the wonders of human bonding at any level. Notwithstanding, positive social interaction proved more satisfying than complete alienation, even with the worries and fears that timid people usually feels when proved against such interactions.

But people are like atoms, they collide, are driven off, and also, repel. Or maybe an atom wants to collide and join another which doesn't. When you're under the effects of strong feelings, the ability to discern wether you're right or wrong become supressed. One one hand, you may think about the rightness of your feelings and/or actions. On the other hand, the outside perspective might be completely different.

It becomes hard to think about yourself. As a matter of fact, you, yes, the person who always acts "right" may be wrong, may be making someone else uncomfortable.

Even if this events are true, there is another part of the equation. You can control your actions, but I don't think is possible to control how you feel about someone. This can help on achieving an ethical behaviour, one in which you actually act motivated by the good. But it also leads to a heavy emotional turmoil.

So, I made a great discovery: human relationships are complicated. ¬ ¬

So long...

I hate the new blogger editor....

And that's not the main topic I shall be discussing right now. Actually, the change is what bedazzles me. Nevertheless, change is permanent...isn't it right? Actually, certain metaphysic postures would deny it, but there aren't many followers of those postures. Because, even if Zeno denied it, change, even if it might be an illusion of our minds, is always present.
Present might be a fleeting non-existant time. We may just as well be stranded in some continuum of moments between the vastness of the past and the unknown future.

But now what? How to overcome such questions?

I really don't know, and neither know why am I writing this. May be just another wise word from some man that used to confront hard questions on life...

"Love hopes all things -and yet is never put to shame". S.A.K.

Dune

Sadly, desertification is a common issue nowadays, mainly because of reckless industrial developments and climate change.Nevertheless, and even if I had seen the dunes before, watching them again was an experience that I would only describe as fascinating and breathtaking. Abouth a month ago, just for a few minutes and not exactly close enough to actually feel the sand, but the dunes, the desert, there is something about it that a meadow full of flowers cannot arise. In all its bare nudity, it shows itself. Quite the expression of a radical and natural honesty.

Writers block

How if writers block come in the worst moment, when writing is not only your hobby, but also your work? Hehehe, nevermind, I am aware that pretty much every writer suffers from such condition. In my case it is quite simply: trying to explain, make an argument and give a proper foundation for an idea. But somehow, when the attempt to write such explanation comes out, the implications came like a snowball, every little problem or issue leads to another. So, procrastination ensues. Might as well be the fear. Fear of failing, anyone? Maybe a good advice, one that has been given to a lot of people is: take the risk, don't be afraid of mistakes, even more if such mistakes can lead you to perfect your work, your art and craft. Anyway, that's pretty much for today.

κάθαρσις

The sun keeps going on its way on the sky, from dawn to sunset. Stars come out. And somehow, inside the persons, strange forces act. Some upon them, some caused by themselves. Others, because an external cause. What happens when the pressure from inside and outsides overwhelms the will -will to live, will to fight, will to resist-. It happens that the barrier is shattered, and every piece drop like a rain of tears, fragments. κάθαρσις that's the word when such a breakdown happens. Purging. It indeed looks like a purge. Things that used to be stagnating and creating a lot of pressure are suddenly released. μετάνοια and should come together, so all the shattered pieces can be rebuilt...or better said, regrown.

25 de marzo de 3019 de la tercera edad del sol.

Otro año más desde que Sauron fue derrotado.

Siete.

Supuestamente 7 es un buen número. De nuevo, es dificil de creer que ya son siete años escribiendo esporádicamente por aquí. Buen Aniversario.

Mend, amend.

Last post was about questions (aren't they all?). Well, the question was about if it was right or wrong to have some feelings about a particular situation. No. I guess it was about the lack of a correlative or counterpart: having some efects with no apparent or plausible cause. Cause, cause, causation. What is the cause of "X"? In that particular post, the goal was to express or figure out the cause of the feelings of loneliness, sorrow, dispair, hopelessness. And, despite of my efforts, I couldn't delve enough in Kierkegaard and his imaginary friends to find out what was going on. And that is how these days have been, tinged with darker shades of gray, and ocasionally a shy green or yellow. So, the world, the people, the weather. It doesn't matter how they are. Even if people always look for objectivity, the most important factor for everyday life is how things appear to people. Somebody with allucinations doesn't worry about the world that is, but of the world that appears. A joyful individual takes his/her problems in such a different way than a depressive one. And no, I'm not talking about the simple concept of "point of view". I am talking about the world as a whole, given to the particular individual. When we can find some common points where it is possible to join and make connection. But nevertheless, the particular way in which the world is presented makes possible, somehow, the lack of comprehension between persons, where the joyful doesn't think even possible to look at the world in the way the melancholic describes it. Clearly a lack of empathy, but not in the common use of the word ("to put oneself in the shoes of the other). As I am trying to learn, empathy is way more than that. And between its characteristics, one of them is the ability or capacity to look the world in the way another does. Well, right now, this has become some sort of digression. Still haven't found why the feelings of loneliness, anger, hopelessness, etc., do exist without an apparent cause. Just reached a path where they can be exemplified and how they are part of that "world that is given" or "world that appears". At least is an advance, isn't it? Not really sure about it, maybe the causes are so evident, and that's because they remain hidden. If you look to much, you are concentrated on the pursuit, instead of on what you're pursuing. So long, until next post.

Do I have the right?

Let's start with a question: Do I have the right to feel alone? Loneliness is a feeling when someone is missing some kind of contact with others. It has a primordial feature: that condition is not voluntary, or maybe desired. On the contrary, solitude is a desired condition. (So sad, spanish doesn't make this distinction).

But, what is the origin of the question? Well, if you have people who you like to spend your life with, share bonds, have affection to them and even in that case you feel alone...Do you have the right to?.

What does it take to have that emptiness filled? Why does it need more than you already have to soothe that feeling?

I don't know, this post promised much at the start. But right now it faded away.

'Til later.

24 de febrero. Seis años

Y parece una vida entera.

Who knows, who cares?

Who knows, who cares. Why to ask these questions? Who cares what happened, even if it was just a tiny bit? If it happened, it belongs to the past. Who cares about the memories I hold, the shattered thoughts of those brief, but blissful instants? I shall tell. I know and I care. By now, I should have been over it. Sadly, that's not the case. Sadly, the longing doesn't go away. Neither the lack of power and will to look and accept what it is. Going for new ways to relate, meet new people. All of it sounds ridiculous and unfeasible. Specially when both things sound too hard, and to relate in a deep and caring way it's like an upway hill. Nevertheless. Life goes on. Or at least so it seems.

Lo que se pierde, lo que se extraña.

Cuando extrañas a alguien, ¿será como dice Proust, que no sólo extrañamos a ese alguien, sino a los sentimientos experimentados en relación a esa persona -tanto agradables como dolorosos-?
Últimamente me estoy volviendo afecto a dicha idea. Precisamente por las sensaciones en mí en virtud de los hechos, o, como dirían algunos, de la facticidad en la cuál mi vida parece estar entretejida.

Como escribí hace algunas entradas, el lenguaje parece expandirse hasta sus límites sin lograr por ello aprehender la cuestión. En este caso, el castellano. Por ello he recurrido a una palabra en lengua portuguesa: "saudade": un vago y constante deseo por algo que no existe y probablemente no puede existir. Esos son los hechos.

Pero existe un aspecto rescatable: la nostalgia por lo bueno. Aunque tristemente, la palabra nostalgia implica dolor. Y en ese dolor esta el extrañar, no sólo a la persona, ni a sus sentimientos, cualesquiera que fuere su alcance, por uno mismo; implica también extrañar nuestros propios sentimientos.

Que cosas...

El horror de las palabras.

The words represent an unspeakable horror (there were a lot of puns in that phrase). Lately, words don't heed my command. Every thing I try to write or speak becomes gibberish or a horrible mockery of what I sought to express. All my interior world (another phrase that I'm not fond of) remains trapped, as the infidelity of written and spoken language hacks through the very essence of it.

So, a problem of expression ensues. The possibility to communicate in a fluid, concise, and asertive way is hindered. The words simply cannot hold the being of the ideas and the feelings. Their simbolism is getting too limited, at least in my case. Words like despair, anxiety, unrequited, love, confusion, are just provisional labels. But, what could be the definite phase? As i said before, making up words is out of the boundaries of the languagues I supposedly command, and also beyond my intellectual and cultural skills. Nor I am some sort of Tolkien to create a whole language ex nihilo (as you can see, this use of a dead language was just a showy device).

Even if I say something over and over, the words appear mute. The feeling continue trapped. Reality is still there, impassable, behind a barrier that I can only scratch a bit. The words are horror because they cannot hold reality. They just aim at it, with more or less accuracy and success.

And in my present situation. Well, that's just another worry.

Instintos, signos, apariencias.

La pregunta es simple. En un momento dado, una especie de "instinto de conservación" (por llamarle de algún modo) compele o impide la realización de cierta acción. Sin embargo, a medida que la esperanza se desvanece, dicho instinto se reconfigura.

El mismo instinto, o quizás una reflexión ulterior (y digo ulterior en honor a un personaje) a su vez proponen salvaguardar algo: todo lo que pueda ser salvado, dadas las circunstancias.

Por otra parte, surge otra volición, un llamado a mandar todo al cabrón de una vez y para siempre, lo cuál tiene la ventaja de por fin dejar de guardar un sentimiento y un secreto doloroso en el pecho. La desventaja radica en la pérdida total de algo bueno, si bien no lo que las expectativas guardasen, algo provechoso, de suyo virtuoso (¡oh!).

Si, estoy hablando del más oscuro de los tópicos: relaciones humanas. Odio ambos conceptos: relación y humano pero en vista de las limitaciones del lenguaje creo que debo ceñirme. No soy alemán y no puedo inventar términos a diestra y siniestra. Además, estoy agotado. Soportar esta situación, hasta para el más comprensivo y/o estoico de los temperamentos resulta desgastante. Máxime para el de alguien tan susceptible de ser afectado por el pathos como he podido constatar en este último tránsito.

¿Qué queda? Soportar y, tal como dice la canción: sentarme a esperar...que se me pase y ya.

O probablemente ser lo más sincero posible y destruir todo. Tal vez ese sea el destino. Mi destino. Destructor y lastimero. Una disculpa por el talante "emo" de esta entrada. Al menos fue en castellano más o menos legible y hasta cierto punto fluído.

El sueño llama.

----EDICIÓN----

Fluído mis polainas, pero de eso hablo después.

Drag.

You're always ahead of the rest,
When I'm always on time,
You got A's on your algebra test,
I failed and they kept me behind,
I just gotta get off my chest,
That I think you're divine,
You're always ahead of the rest,
While I drag behind..

Lately this song from Placebo has been playing on my head. Besides the other issues that crawl in my mind, when the opportunity to try something new or improve on something comes, that sensation assaults my will and conciousness.

Think about "writer's block" applied to almost every aspect of your life. Or maybe, a negative admiration, a feedback which doesn't feed, but exerts your hopes of progress. Like if it wasn't enough with being a hopeless romantic (you can laugh).

As I wrote before, I attribute this to a disconnection. Or a misconception. Of the self, and the reality. The problem is: how to fix it?

Good grief!

And plain grief...

Just because I'm losing doesn't mean I'm lost.

This is the thought of hope that I would like to believe: just because I'm losing doesn't mean I'm lost. But I just got lost, and every door that I ever tried was locked. I am not going to post the entire song anyway. Just wanted to make a point using the words of someone who writes better than me. As I wrote this I don't know about my immediate future. My neglected obligations (pointless considering how easy they are), but what really pierces my mind are the pulses of my heart, soul or wherever the feelings reside. Sounds indeed strange that something which hasn't happened or going to happen at all can have such weight and power over the general state, the mood and even the body.

I just can look at the material signs of whatever happened inside me and feel a mix of emotions. I don't like it. It is outside of every logic to have an aspiration, a longing for someone who can't feel the same for you. What could be the best strategy: stay away, telling it? Probably there is not a best strategy. Last time chose the second one, and the outcome was desastrous, probably because of my lack of...control, temperance, good will? Don't know. I just remember what happened and it wasn't ideal. Stay away. Seems also equally hurtful. Would be easier if I could run away and stop the perception of that "someone". But I can't. I have to bear with the burden of day-to-day coloquial contact. And besides, I also feel the need of friendship. The problem is: it becomes almost unbearable. The suffering and the longing, just relieved a bit when I recieve a glance, a look, when my hand is hold, at a hug. I just want to forget. But as far as I can see, that is a difficult task. Most of my faculties are revolving around the issue, and even now, I think of the past and still hurts.

Right now, I don't know how to get rid of this. How to manage a productive living when I feel a tearing of the soul or spirit, a pressure in the chest, sharp needles. I really would have prefered to avoid any contact with you. But now it's to late. I'm twined, but it doesn't matter. The feelings I have may shatter against the wall of reality. So, probably that's why I'm considered a closed person. It's hard to care, to love, when that is going to waste...