The Dreaded Towel

This past year was one of many realizations. Many things fell into place. It seems a bit late in life to start figuring out who I am, where I belong, where I'm from... but thankfully one of my main realizations has been finding out that I'm not alone, that there are many others like me and that this pubecent confusion I feel I'm going through might very well be a life long companion.

It's incredible that nothing in my life has changed except my perception of it and yet, somehow, that changes everything.

A friend once told me she realized she was waiting, waiting for her life to begin. In my way I think I've always done that too. Whatever I've done, wherever I've been, the friends I've made have been, in my mind, temporary.

I'm now visiting my parents and for the first time ever allowing them to give me sheets, a normal sized towel, pots, silverware... things for my house, things that will weigh me down and although externally I'm just exchanging a hand towel for one that takes up 3 times more space, I'm also accepting that my life is happening right here and right now.

I'm no longer passing though.

How about being human?

We allow ourselves to be animals and we strive to be God
People say, "Be a man!"... "Act like a lady!"
How about trying to be... human??

Choices

She went over to his apartment
Clutching her decision
And he said, did you come here to tell me goodbye?
So she built a skyscraper of procrastination
And then she leaned out the twenty-fifth floor window
Of her reply
And she felt like an actress
Just reading her lines
When she finally said
Yes. it’s really goodbye this time
And far below was the blacktop
And the tiny toy cars
And it all fell so fast
And it all fell so far
And she said:
You are a miracle but that is not all
You are also a stiff drink and I am on call
You are a party and I am a school night
And I’m lookin’ for my door key
But you are not my porch light
And you’ll never know, dear
Just how much I loved you
You’ll probably think this was
Just my big excuse
But I stand committed
To a love that came before you
And the fact that I adore you
Is but one of my truths

...

She’s choking on the smoke
Of unthinkable choices
She is haunted by the voices
Of so many desires
She’s bent over from the business
Of begging forgiveness
While frantically running around
Putting out fires
But then what kind of scale
Compares the weight of two beauties
The gravity of duties
Or the ground speed of joy?
Tell me what kind of gauge
Can quantify elation?
What kind of equation
Could I possibly employ?
And you’ll never know, dear
Just how much I loved you
You probably think this was
Just my big excuse
But I stand committed
To a love that came before you
And the fact that I adore you
Is just one of my truths
So I
I’m goin’ home
To please the one I so love pleasing
And I don’t expect
He’ll have much sympathy for my grieving
But I guess that this is the price
That we pay for the privilege
Of living for even a day
In a world with so many things
Worth believing
In

-Ani DiFranco

Why do I identify so much? I've never chosen between two people. I guess for me it's choices in general. The fight between body and soul, heart and mind, reason and desire. The line is not only gray it's multicolored. Should we pursue what is good for us or what makes us happy, or are they one and the same? How to distinguish between true happiness and the untrue?

My favorite twos

When I really like something, I buy it in twos. Problem is, because I like those things so much, I always have to go back for more; two doesn't last very long. So today I was wondering why I don't just buy 100 packs and save myself the trouble. I think in part it's because I like to have as little stuff as possible at any given moment, but also because I enjoy the going back for more part. I guess I should clarify that the only things I'm actually thinking about are coffee and shisha supplies. Is that all I care about? I think I could be happy without any other material possession... except maybe my camera... and my laptop... I don't have those in twos. Of course coffee is more complicated because there's the freshness factor, which, of course, is crucial. I forgot to put that on my survey. I got a coffee mug painting for my birthday; it's beautiful :) How can a mug collage not make one happy? Impossible.

Black, Strong, Nutty... and with a Good Finish

He borrado 2 veces este post...
Tal vez no hay nada que quiero decir...
En realidad hay mucho que quiero decir pero una "personita" tiene razon cuando dice que soy muy reservada.
Una "personita"... jajajaja!!

Te hago un cafecito?
Ya!

I'm bad...

I think only one person will have any idea what I'm talking about, which is of course... nothing.

So let's change the subject...

How about a poll:

How do you like your coffee?

Options:
a) nutty
b) earthy
c) with a good finish
d) with just the right acidity
e) citrusy
f) chocolaty
g) smooth
h) like my men: black and strong
i) like my men: brown and sweet
j) other

*I'd love to know what other is.

Nihil volitum quin precognitum

(no puede quererse nada que previamente no haya sido conocido)

Inspired by Benetton

Last night I had a strange train of thought after I witnessed a car crash from the 12th floor of the apartment building where I sleep but don't live. The last part went something like this:

• My Benetton bag I bought at a flea market, aka Cumavi
• Benetton adds
• "Benetton couples" (interracial)
• Couples
• Sex
• Love (yes... it was in that order)
• The need to love
• The need to be loved
• The realization that the need to love is stronger than the need to be loved

It makes me wonder, have I ever been in love? I know I've thought so at the time, but when it's over I think... naw, I wasn't in love... it wasn't real... I was blind... it was stupid... I wasn't in love.

And now I've become this completely rational, cold minded person, that doesn't believe in romance, or butterflies (the stomach ones), much less soul mates. I snicker at hand-holding and intimate whispers.

...but try as I may to ignore it, the need to love is strong.