M to the C

Oh M to the C
Who would have thought you'd smoke a narg with me

You made me smile
Your food runs a mile

If it rains
We go through great pains

If it's sunny
You get our money

Where are my socks?
Maybe in a box

Or any other place
Maybe in a vase

Thank you for everything
You're a great human being...

Friendship

I was once talking to my friend Nadi, sitting in the plaza with some of the best and cheapest coffee in town, about what makes us such close friends. We came to the conclusion that even though most of the time we have no idea what's going on in our crazy, "inconcluso" friends' minds, we still try to be there for them, remembering and reminding them of their better selves. Or as my so very wise sister-in-law once said,"Puede ser bueno, o puede ser malo... nunca se sabe donde vas a ir."

Dig

We all have a weakness
But some of ours are easy to identify. Look me in the eye,
and ask for forgiveness.
We'll make a pact to never speak that word again.
Yes, you are my friend.
We all have something that digs at us,
at least we dig each other.

So when weakness turns my ego up
I know you'll count on the me from yesterday.

If I turn into another
dig me up from under what is covering
the better part of me.
Sing this song
remind me that we'll always have each other
when everything else is gone.

We all have a sickness
that cleverly attaches and multiplies
No matter how we try.
We all have someone that digs at us,
at least we dig each other.

So when sickness turns my ego up
I know you'll act as a clever medicine.
If I turn into another,
dig me up from under what is covering
The better part of me.
Sing this song!
Remind me that we'll always have each other
when everything else is gone.
Oh, each other when everything else is gone.

-Incubus

Procrastinating

So I'm sitting on the "office" floor in my underwear (because that seems to me to be a very logical thing to do when one is alone), smoking a shisha and drinking a humongus (how the hell do you spell that!!) cup of coffee, writing to myself and whoever else cares to listen... and yes, procrastinating.

On a day like today, I have the right.

I have an exam tonight, I'm sure my other ñoña compañeras didn't sleep last night studying for it. I used to be the ñoña. I haven't changed... I just changed universities (I'm just sayin').

Do you know what procrastinate is in Spanish? : Postergar, remolonear, boludear

I know, so inadecuate.

It's crazy when you think that we can't conceive an idea we can't put words to, which means millions of people are deprived of the understanding of the word procrastinate!!

What a day, what a day...

Fuck it

"Why didn't you come before?" she said.
It wasn't a question, it was an accusation.

"Didn't you know?"
No, I guess I didn't.
How could I? Are we supposed to just absorb information from the atmosphere? Was I supposed to have innate knowledge?

Or maybe I did know.
Maybe I knew but it wasn't acceptable.
Maybe I did absorb knowledge through my skin or read it at whatever.com but never felt it was an option.

It takes a good many years before we even begin to realize that sometimes we must do things that aren't "an option", sometimes we must make it an option.
Because we can't undo things.
Sometimes we can't mend what is torn.
We can only try to hide the tear with a patch and pretend we are untorn.

And why must we feel so scared and ashamed?
Why must we be made to feel inferior just because others won't admitt to their own mistakes?
How can you make a child feel unpure?
We all lose our innocence through no fault of our own.
How ironic... we are blamed of inmaturity before we know what the word means, we are charged with crimes we didn't know existed and are ultimately sentanced to eternal damnation before we've even cosidered our own beliefs.
The influence is so strong we imagine thick steel bars where there are none and fight our whole lives against the desire to be free.
We drown in the shame of wanting liberty.

So fuck it
Who are you to judge me?

Ojeando un cuaderno viejo...

el mundo esta en constante movimiento y de vez en cuando nos detenemos y sentimos el mundo girar
nos quedamos congelados un instante y contemplamos nuestro alrededor aunque en realidad estamos contemplando nuestro interior
sentimos que hay fuerzas externas que nos afectan pero en realidad... el sol nunca va ni viene somos nosotros los que vamos y venimos
decimos que la manzana es roja aunque en un cuarto oscuro no lo es
todo es relativo
adonde voy con esto?
no hay donde ir
el viaje es interno y siempre llego al mismo punto y lo confundo con un dejavu
siento que estuve aqui antes
no, es que estuviste aqui antes
somos masoquistas
torturamos nuestro cuerpo y nuestra alma y de alguna morbosa manera nos trae placer
gastamos tiempo, dinero, energia
sin darnos cuenta que le estamos dando la vuelta a la misma rotonda
mi cama una selva domestica
mi cuarto un mundo de timidas iluciones
yo, una romantica desilucionada con el amor
que es una lampara si se le ha quemado el bombillo?
que es una sonrisa sin alegria o un abrazo sin calor?
somos como la mecha que se ha hundido en la cera caliente y queda atrapada ahi hasta el fin de sus dias
nosotros mismos ignoramos el proposito de nuestras vidas o lo miramos con ojos ciegos y lo oimos con oidos sordos
seria preferible ser mudo en vez de decir las cosas que decimos
que importa si quedamos paralizados si de todas maneras no hacemos nada
o como extraño tus palabras vacias
o como extraño ese brillo de mis ojos que piensas que es amor, devocion, cariño...
estabas demasiado ciego para darte cuenta que era el reflejo del bombillo fluorescente
besame, besame mucho
como si fuera esta noche la ultima vez
porque el intercambio de saliva y los restos de la cena hacen que sintamos mariposas en el estomago?
el mundo sigue igual
todavia en cada esquina se puede comprar El Extra
y las noticias del dia son:
"... regreso el Chupacabras... prostituta rompe su record de # de clientes por noche... hija mata a su madre y tres hermanos..."
¡chismes! ¡mas chismes!... te diste cuenta que la celebridad X (que nunca voy a conocer) se volvio a casar?
Jessica Simpson penso que habia algun tipo de pollo del mar, pero lo mas triste es que yo y miles de otras personas del mundo lo sabemos, lo hemos comentado, nos hemos burlado de ella y nos ha hecho sentirnos mas inteligentes y superiores
ahora si que podemos dormir con la consciencia tranquila
porque nosotros sabiamos que no hay pollo del mar

For those of you that don't understand:

Ani DiFranco has been able to say what so many of us have not been able to put into words or even comprehensible thoughts, so here are some of my thoughts expressed through her words:

talk to me now

he said ani, you've gotten tough
'cause my tone was curt
yeah, and when i'm approached in a dark alley
i don't lift my skirt
in this city
self-preservation
is a full time occupation
i'm determined
to survive on these shores
i don't avert my eyes anymore
in a man's world
i am a woman by birth
and after nineteen times around i have found
they will stop at nothing once they know what you are worth
talk to me now
i played the powerless
in too many dark scenes
and i was blessed with a birth and a death
and i guess i just want some say in between
don't you understand
in the day to day
in the face to face
i have to act
just as strong as i can
just to preserve a place
where i can be who i am
so if you still know how
talk to me now

insomnia

Bueno, en realidad creo que son los efectos del cafe en un cuerpo milagrosamente desacostumbrado.

Mi amiga usa las iniciales de la gente que menciona en su blog, pero creo que me gustaria usar apodos... esto me da una emocion medio "sheitooniana" :)

A ver que se me ocurre...

I'm sorry

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You'll never know dear
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

The other night dear
While I lay sleeping
I dreamt I held you in my arms
But when I woke dear
I was mistaken
And I hung my head and I cried

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray
You'll never know dear
How much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away...

Compañera de cuarto

Todavía la veo. Creo que no se piensa ir muy pronto. Anoche hablamos... bueno, ella no dijo nada. Le dije, "Hi."
Me miro y de repente estaba a la par mía. Trato de decirme algo pero no salia sonido. Esta bien, se que me quería decir.
Creo que nunca me va a dejar de dar miedo, aunque sepa que no me quiere hacer daño.
Ella tiene tanto que decir...
Yo antes decía," no es real, es mi imaginación,"pero acaso no son reales mis miedos, y acaso todos los miedos no tienen una razón real detrás de ellas?
Así que ella es real y lo seguirá siendo hasta que deje de ser real mi miedo.
O sea que todo este tiempo pensé que ella era la razón de mi miedo... pero ella es mi miedo.

the send button

¿Sabes ese sentimiento cuando ya no hay marcha atras? Como cuando pagas 6 meses adelantado en ITS, o cuando el ginecologo te dice que levantes las piernas... mil disculpas por la comparacion. El caso es que ya apretaste el send button y ya no lo puedes unsend. Bueno, hoy lo escrito deja de ser solo mio.

Y con el send, un poco de miedo pero tambien un poco de alivio.

The Darkness

It all started con el "Show de Cristina"... actually that's not where it started at all but I guess that's just how our mind works. We were just sitting around in the living room, studying, checking email and absentmindedly watching el "Show de Cristina". That day it happened to be on sexual abuse. She interviewed many girls who had been forced into prostitution as well as people that worked in organizations trying to rescue these people (women and children).

The stories, of course, were horrendous. I don't know of any appropriate adjectives that would do justice to the situation. One example in particular I can't get out of my mind: Babies, as little as 6 months old, starved so they would suck the dicks of filthy, disgusting men. I don't even want to read what I just wrote, the thought is unbearable.

The afore mentioned image has made me randomly break into tears over the past 3 days and hasn't let me sleep well at night... which consecuently, has made me start this blog.

The thing is that I got to thinking about my own past and fears, and I got really pissed off. I realized (at least I have a theory) why I'm scared of the dark. I think I asociate it with everything that happens in the world that remains hidden. All the things that people don't know about, or don't believe, or simply prefer to ignore; everything that happens in the dark of night that in the day somehow disappears, eventhough it's an elephant in a very small room.

"Las estadísticas mundiales indican que el A.S.I. representa un importante problema social y de salud en numerosas regiones, pese a que se ha demostrado la existencia de un subregistro del fenómeno. Por ejemplo España y EEUU reportan que alrededor del 20 al 25% de las niñas y del 10 al 15% de los niños sufren algún tipo de abuso sexual antes de los 17 años. En América Latina más de 20 000 niños de los países más pobres son vendidos a pedófilos de EEUU, Canadá y Europa y más de 10 000 menores entre los 9 y 16 años de edad son destinados a prostíbulos con un precio inferior al de un equipo de vídeo (3)."

http://www.monografias.com/trabajos15/incidencia-abuso-sexual/incidencia-abuso-sexual.shtml

So if 25% of girls have been sexually abused; that means that if I'm in a group of 4 girls, probably, at least, one of them has had, at least, one truamatic sexual experience in her life time.

So how come we don't talk about it? We don't want to make other people feel uncomfortable. But, shouldn't they feel uncomfortable? Shouldn't we dare to ask our children and our friends and our mothers and sisters, and fathers and brothers for that matter, if there's anything they want to share? Shouldn't we give them that chance? And not just once, because you don't get over a traumatic experience after telling someone about it over one cup of coffee; specially because most people don't know when to just shut up and let the other person talk. We need to let people know that they can talk about things as much as they want, that they can continue to feel pain no matter how many years have passed by; because they wouldn't still be feeling pain if their loved ones hadn't turned a blind eye...

...and let everything painful stay in the darkness.