Inspiration

I've been meaning to write again fro a while but oh well, nothing really seemed good enough, so in the end I just ended up either erasing what I wrote or banging my head for even writing something so bad, haha, no such a healthy habit, but oh well, maybe Dobby has taught me more than what I bargained for.

Sometimes, more often than usually and forgetting modesty, I like to think of myself as an artist, books, drawings, paintings, art, quotes and paragraphs from random places inspire me, fictional characters struck me as infinitely interesting, but more times than I'd like to admit I find real people giving me the ultimate kick on wanting to create something, their mannerisms and culture seems to seep into my brain and damp my soul until my hands finally decide to move and transport all of it on a piece of paper. I draw a lot, not too well, must I admit, but I love doing it almost as much as reading.

People are different, inspiration is different, we take from our media what we decide it's important and we disregard what we feel is not; usually this leads to disregard people with interests that differ with ours, we all do it, I pride myself in accepting everyone, but in reality, I do place people in categories depending on their pyramids of priorities, which might be socially acceptable when you're worried about world economics, hunger and diseases, and these people worry about is make-up and getting drunk. Trying to explain myself and I'm loosing my way, I apologize. In short, everything that comes out of me, comes from the inspiration that the people I see give me, what my brain interprets and what my hands finally do. Finding what inspires you it's not an easy thing for everybody, it changes as we grow and at the same time it's always there.

Nostalgia

Time is a beautiful and terrible thing, it flows eternally and we, simple humans as we are, can do nothing about it; it brings good and bad things, it takes away moments leaving behind nothing but memories that one day, he might come and take away as well.

A minute, mere 60 seconds is a long time, but a year, 365 days, ran too fast. I left my home to pursue a dream, at that moment I was so scared of finding myself alone in a new city, filled with strangers that had no faces and represented danger. But time was kind, or maybe cruel, and gave me no less than good friends, people from whom I learnt, cultures that I could nothing but imagine, a side of me that I wouldn't have been able to find if it wasn't from the place it took me to, the people that I met and the personality that had already been forged in me. 

But of course, time has to move, we must evolve, and a year went by, and all of a sudden the clock and the calendar coincided in sending me back home; leaving a brother, a friend, a roommate and so many amazing companions in a foreign land I'm not sure to ever go back to, I received so much love there, and I gave so much love back. A part of my heart will always be there, a part of my heart will always belong to them. 

Memories remain, photos that will eventually loose color, love and care that might somehow die, friends that may become strangers, but all of us, for a brief moment, conveyed in a place and lived and loved each other and that will never disappear. 

Right now, I'm here, on a chair, typing these feelings out, with tears threatening to finally spill and my heart about to break all over again from the longing, the missing, the nostalgia there is.

meeting people

When I look at people, I won't lie and say I don't see their clothes or their faces or their hair, but first impressions, specially those based on looks, are hardly ever a good base to judge someone's self; so why not go beyond that? 

I have friends who are the typical group of people who would surround me, they are nice, they are bitchy, they are shallow, they are smart, they act dumb, they are actually dumb sometimes; but all and all, they are my friends and I love them. 

I have, what I like to call, "random friends" people who don't specifically fit the image or definition of those who are usually by my side, but people, whom I've had the brain and guts to know past the image they portrayed and more often than never, they have been the ones I trust the most. 

Strangely enough, my usual friends don't associate me with them, it's like we're separate existence who once encountered each other but it never went far from a light brush. 

The most valuable things are those who are away from the sight, sadly the majority of us don't understand that and never will. I'm grateful for the way I was raised and the decisions I made, which are just a part of what took me to where I am, but a part that never let me judge someone based only on the weight of their pockets or the beauty of their face, but rather the use their brains get.

Hopefully as time goes and humans evolve, we'll be more capable of accepting each other as we are and make bonds, stronger than common points that might fade within seconds, bonds, seeded so deep that as many storms, miles and years might pass, will not flicker nor dissapear.

Hopefully, the human soul, will become a kind existence once again.

Haciendo una tarea

Siendo una estudiante extranjera, podria decir, bueno, puedo decir, que gozo de ciertos beneficios de los cuales me veria privada de ser peruana de nacimiento; no me gusta aprovecharme de ellos, que conste, pues, faltaba mas, que me topase con un profesor que me pidiera hablar de mi pais. Por mucho que ame mi pais, y tiempo libre que tenga, asignaciones extras, no son precisamente mi idea de pasar ese tiempo. Asi es que como toda buena estudiante de ultimo a~o, deje mi proyecto hasta un dia antes de presentarlo, bueno, mas bien, la noche antes de presentarlo; si, soy una irresponsable, pero cuando hago algo, no lo hago bien, aspiro a hacerlo escepcional, de lo contrario, mejor no hago nada; pues bien, despues de un par de horas de discutir conmigo misma y convencerme de sentarme a trabajar, varios minutos de distraccion, y un par de canciones de genero desconocido; abri el navegador de Google y Microsoft PWP.

En un cuaderno al lado de mi ordenador tengo la lista de imagenes e informacion que debo buscar; a medida que avanza la noche y las horas pasan, me doy cuenta de lo ingenua que fui al pensar que lograria terminar en tres o cuatro horas maximo, encontrar las imagenes solamente me ha tomado cerca de cinco, claro que han habido minimos momentos de distraccion en los cuales una ligera lectura llamaba mi atencion y mis ojos no podian hacer mas que saltar a ella. Mientras buscaba las imagenes, estaba cansada, queria dormir; porque entre otras cosas, he renegado mis horas de sue~o en beneficio de una lectura, por lo mismo, me parece que mis ojos han empezado a reclamarme el maltrato; pero bueno, al mismo tiempo que medio renegaba de haber retrasado tanto el empezar a trabajar, las imagenes me trajeron cierta nostalgia, y extra~amente no me senti triste; mas bien un poco de serenidad y una agradable sensacion de alegria de saber que era parte de mi, de la infancia que recuerdo, de los amigos que deje, de la familia que quiero.

Pues, al final, luego de armar la presentacion, me quede sentada frente al monitor, simplemente pensando, me gustaria decir que analiazndo y apreciando todos esos sentimientos, pero la verdad, mi cerebro estaba armando y ensayando las palabras y movimientos manuales que voy a hacer dentro de menos de 30 minutos cuando mi trabajo cumpla su objetivo.

Aunque el momento en el que me invadio esa pacifica felicidad, fue breve, y al final me fui a dormir con los ojos rojos y la mente cansada, me senti contenta de haber hecho esta tarea.

Just a dribble a drabble..

I don't believe in love, and love is most likely to not give a flying cow whether I believe or not in him.
I don't believe in love, and yet, I'm in love.
I despise love, and yet, this is love.
I don't know how to love, and still, I want but my feelings to be accepted.
I have no clue or idea as to what love is, but I'm sure this is it.
I don't want to have it, yet, it isn't leaving.
This is not care, lust or longing; any of those wouldn't make my chest ache the way it does, all of them or none of them at all wouldn't make me cry.
Being loved is a troublesome thing, being in love is a hopeless business and not being loved is the loneliest place of all.

"El Juego del Angel"

Una amiga, bueno, en realidad casi no hablamos, pero es una de esas personas a las que me gustaria considerar mi amiga, porque es de esa clase de personas que es una lastima si no las conoces; pues una amiga, me recomendo leer a Carlos Ruiz Zafon, un escritor espa~ol, del cual, la verdad, jamas habia escuchado, pero claro, no hay manera si no he querido, pues he leido su libro "El Juego del Angel", sobra decir que no es mi estilo de lectura, un libro lleno de intrigas, en una ciudad que ahora tengo la curiosidad de conocer, Barcelona. En las 2 semanas que me ha tomado leer, analizar y enamorarme de sus 667 paginas, David Martin, Andreas Corelli y su peque~o universo barcelones me han ense~ado mas de filosofia y mentalidad que mi profesor cuando lleve la materia de filosofia en mis dos ultimos a~os de colegio, pobre, es posible, que mi mente ahora, este mas abierta al aprendizaje y al conocimiento que en ese entonces. 

Es un libro escrito de una forma, sin ningun otro apelativo, bella, bella sin mas. Al momento de abrir el libro, cerrar el mundo y aterrizar en la Barcelona de los a~os 20, Ruiz Zafon te permite caminar por las calles, callejones y barrios a los cuales se ve llevado David; te coloca dentro de su cabeza, de manera que no tienes otra mas que ser David, te ense~a sobre pobres, ricos e ignorantes, codicia, peligro y pecado, habla sobre la filosofia y el alma de las religiones, vives como David y aunque llego un momento en el que pense que la historia habia terminado, al final del primer tercio del libro, y lo demas seria completamente innecesario; segui leyendo, curiosidad del lector, audacidad del vanidoso, o simplemente el no poder con el no haber terminado un libro; pero segui leyendo, y si no lo hubiera hecho me habria perdido de algunas de las paginas mas geniales que un libro ha traido.

Al final, como en el ultimo tercio, la historia se puede volver adictiva, al punto, que no podia ni dormir porque el libro me llamaba para terminarle, y cuando lo hice, llore. Llore con rabia, porque no comprendia como podia terminar como lo hizo, con tristeza, porque un libro es un amigo y jamas vuelve a ser como la primera vez que lo viste, con sentimiento, porque al final, que otra forma existe de llorar para nosotros?

Jamas mancho los libros, me parece ofensivo, aunque la verdad, a un autor le gradaria saber que una frase suya, por muy corta o eterea que sea, te inspiro, y se encuntra subrayada en su libro y grabada en tu mente para siempre. Mi copia de "El Juego del Angel" esta llena de marcador, y mi agenda, garabateada con las frases mas especiales. En fin, es un libro que me dio mas de lo que esperaba, aunque no sea de mi estilo de lectura, pero casi siempre, son las cosas que desentonan con tu ambiente las que te ense~an, sobre la vida, los demas, pero mas que nada, sobre ti.

"En mi mundo, las grandes esperanzas solo vivian entre las paginas de un libro."

El Juego del Angel

Carlos Ruiz Zafon.~

Pretending, smiling and being fine

"I'm going to smile like nothing is wrong, talk like everything is perfect, act like it's all a dream and pretend like it's not hurting me"

Mas de la mitad de mi vida ha sido utilizada para aprender y mejorar el fino arte de no permitir que nadie vea mis emociones, al menos nadie que me conozca y a quien yo conozca. Una lagrima aqui, un suspiro alla, una sonrisa cada cuanto, una carcajada con ganas me han delatada ya en varias ocasiones, pero mas alla de esos esporadicos momentos, las palabras que expliquen el porque de ellos no pasan mas alla del reino de mi cerebro.


Creo, que la razon por la que soy incapaz de revelar mi verdadero yo a otros es probablemente porque, inconcietemente TEMO exponerme, a la vulnerabilidad que viene de una verdadera e intima relacion. (Este parrafo no es de mi invencion, por si acaso, pero de verdad describe lo que pienso)


A pesar de mi mentalidad de "se quien quieras ser y los demas pueden irse al infierno si les parece"; tengo miedo de la manera en que los ojos de los demas me vean, mis "amigos" no me conocen, yo no confio en ellos, y ellos no confian en mi, y a pesar de que es lo justo, me duele admitirlo. Aunque sea de semblante estoico y no reniegue mas de lo necesario, a pesar de eso, aun a~oro el cari~o de otra persona; pero temo que si me llega a conocer, que si le dejo conocerme, se disguste de mi y me abandone, entonces, para que siquiera dejar que se acerquen?


Tal vez deberia cambiarme, empezar a actuar como una ni~a, bajar de peso, volverme estupida y bailar rozandome lo innombrable con desconocidos cuya cara ni voz en mi vida habia imaginado; al parecer eso le gusta al mundo; pero entonces, perderia el poco respeto que me tengo. No, mejor me quedo aqui, en mi soledad, que sola he construido y en la que me encuentro tan miserablemente comoda, pero me quedo como yo, como me se ser; como nadie me ha aceptado y no creo que nadie me acepte.


Mientras tanto, a sonreir un poco mas, a contar un par de chistes sin gracia para aliviar el ambiente, a decir "bien" cuando pregunten como estas aunque por dentro se desate una tormenta, a pelear con lo que tengo. A vivir como se vivir.


"My smile hides many feelings, ranging from rear, to sadness and even pain. But my smile is much more. It's my STRENGTH"

About sighing....

Everyone has their own meaning to a sigh; for me, they steal away your happiness. As I sigh, the air leaving my lungs, as in a slow motion picture, I can feel it taking away the brightness and joy that was in my chest, so close to where that same air came from.

Lately I've been compelled to sigh every five or ten minutes, I'm not tired, so it's not from missing air; it's most surely than not, that it has to do with the foul mood that has been raining on my parade. Why of this mood? I don't even know myself. The only sure thing is that it's taking over me and ruining my chances of happiness and the chances of happiness I could bring to those who may or may not love me.

So, while I try and keep myself from sighing and letting this unused happiness escape, another sigh finds its way out of my lips. If only this words could express the bitterness with which I write them, hopping for a better day, for a better me, hopping, against the little hope I still had, that they might help me get this blackness out of my chest and, even if it doesn't fill with light, at least leave room for it, for the time it might come, for the time I decide I want it back and snatch it away from these sighs that have taken to themselves the authority to take it away.

I'll drift to sleep, because as a wise man said once "When we dream, we enter a world that's entirely own".~ Albus Dumbledore. Although, may I add, that sometimes a dreamless sleep might be the best, specially when your heart is as unsettled as mine; and your soul is as broken and disturbed as mine; at least at this very moment.

I'll admit it's true

I want to hear someone's life story. A stranger's. And then tell them mine. I want them to know EVERYTHING about me. Those little things that I keep to myself because I'm afraid of judgement. Terrible, awful things that I lock up in the back of my head. My opinions. The truth. Everything and anything I can think of. And I want them to not hate me afterwards.

About analysing issues...

There are many kinds of issues, personal, social, about money, about relationships, an endless list of problems that assault the heart and mind; we can analyse them endlessly, I personally enjoy healthy debates, preferably if I can win, but we learn little to nothing form winning, the good thing about debates is that, you learn from what you study to prepare yourself for it, you learn from the other person as you listen to their points and pay attention to the passion with which they defend their view.

But, when thinking and studying a problem that affects many people, specially when it grabs people from various and different groups, we can only see and think as us, from were we stand, things look and feel in a way the others can't understand unless you try and explain, sometimes they will listen to you and try and put themselves in your shoes, but most of the time they will not even listen, because of themselves, because of hoe they've been brought up or because they are too comfortable in their own fluffy, butterfly eating world to want to step out and wear others, slightly less comfortable shoes.

We all come from different places, and we can't change that, it's not our fault; and it's a blessing when you get to meet people with different views from yours, because you learn so much from them, but of course, for that, you must be willing to learn, to step down the pedestal you think you are and practice about being humble. People's life-styles are different and they get affected differently by decisions made by our governments and institutions; their lives can be improved, but most of the time they're not; and people from good families, might not see this, I know this, because a couple of my friends come from there, and their biggest issue is whether to go to work or not because they have "bad hair", when most people don't have an option to go or no, because they either don't have a job, they desperately need, or they have a family to feed. I enjoy getting informed in worldwide issues and discussing them with people, but when I try to talk it out with them, they either get mad because I'm offending their system or avoid the topic altogether and show me a photo of a cute animal, which I tend to ignore.

I love smart people, I need people who will challenge me to use my brain, in spite of sounding like I think too highly of myself, I can say, that before putting my support on any side of any problem, I try and learn about it, then think how it affects me, how it affects other social classes, how it affects other people, instead of just saying, in the words of my friend, "it doesn't affect me, so stop talking shit", pardon the curse.

Studying and educating ourselves is one of the best ways of spending our time.

About judging and loneliness...

Why both of them together?  because either one can cause the other.

We are judging machines, as soon as an adjective comes out of your brain and places itself on top of a thing or a living being, you, my friend, have already emitted a judgement about it, without any malice or unintentionally, but you did, and that's our nature; however, when it comes to people's character and who they might be, you have no right whatsoever to try and guess who or how they without really knowing them, seeing things as they are, it's very possible, they themselves don't know it either.

I've had people place trial after trial on me, based on nothing but the way I look, yes, I like to eat, thank you very much, the way I walk, the way I talk, the way I don't particularly talk, based on a phrase I said (posted by someone else on facebook), anyway, in an endless parade of actions, that each alone does not define who I am, and all put together, don't finish to summarize the person in me. So, if someone says anything about you, unless that person is either an extremely good friend, a very admirable someone, your parents(which can be wrong), or yourself; don't hesitate on discarding whatever it is.

We have to live and interact with people, it's human nature, but the way the world affects you, it's something you on your own decide, how far people go and how far you go with them, is something entirely on you. The way you grow up definitely has something to do with how you turn out, but most of all it's a result of what you take from everything you live through; from the people, environments and attitudes.

Everyone is unique, but that doesn't mean we are alone, individuality is not the same as loneliness; pulling out of the world and feeling "alone and miserable" doesn't make you cool. Sadness is a beautiful emotion, it helps us appreciate happiness more even if so slightly, but it isn't the one to abide for. We are free to choose whether to build happiness and experience out of our lifes or to just curl up under a blanket and weep until someone braver than us comes and save us.

The way people see you doesn't define you, the way you see yourself doesn't either. You can either be who they say you are, who you think you are or who you want to be; it's upon yourself.

It's hard, yes, but then again, if it were easy, what kind of fun would or learning would there be? ;)

#JustAThought

About birthdays and friends...

Hoy, 14 de enero, es mi cumplea~os, tengo, oficialmente mas de dos decadas de pasear por esta tierra, de convivir con sus habitantes, de respirar su aire, de construir esperanzas y matar sue~os. Pero bueno, no sere la unica, asi como yo, un millon de personas han nacido un 14 de enero, antes o despues de mi; han hecho o deshecho su vida sin que ni ellas ni yo, nos percatasemos la una de la otra. 

Pero, que signifa cumplir a~os? nada o todo realmente, que haz podido aguantar un a~o mas en este mundo, bien sea, aprovechando tu vida, o desperdiciando el tiempo que no tenemos; que no te has matado de desilusion y que la esperanza aun tiene fe de subsistir y emoujarte a cambiar el mundo antes de que el mundo te termine de cambiar a ti.

Este, ha sido el primer cumplea~os que paso lejos de mi familia, el primero que mis amigos se han hechado a los hombros la tarea de que no sea solo un dia mas en el calendario; y por eso, doy gracias por la docilidad con la que mi espiritu se ha adaptado a estas personas, por el calor que mi usado corazon ha sabido aceptar y repartir. Aun de lejos, mis padres se han tomado la molestia de enviarme flores, jamas un presente me ha movido a las lagrimas como ese arreglo de flores rosadas que ahora se sienta en la mesa al lado de mi cama, y dudo que exista uno en la proxima decada que sea capaz de volverlo a hacer.

Un dia mas, un dia menos, realmente un cumplea~os, puede ser solo un dia mas, un recordatorio de las horas que ya gastaste o viviste, o una nota de aviso de los pocos que te quedan para terminar lo que no haz empezado. Es cosa de cultura, hoy no tuve torta, vaya cumplea~os mas raro, jaja, me gustan las tortas, verlas, partirlas, comerlas y compartirlas; pero la verdad, no hizo falta, hubo dulces de sobra, risas faciles y recuerdos que van a durar hasta donde mi memoria decida que ha sido suficiente.

Al final del dia, ha sido un buen cumplea~os, termino escribiendo desde la sala de television, donde los canales duran tanto como un suspiro y una bolsa llena de golosinas se sienta a mi lado. Para contar mis a~os y mis memorias tendre tiempo ma~ana o mas tarde antes de dormir. En fin, feliz dia a todo aquel que haya nacido en uno como hoy, y en verdad un feliz dia, a cualquiera que se arriesgue a tenerlo.

About happiness.....

Voy a escribir en espa~ol, mi teclado, mi computadora y parte de mi mundo estan en ingles, pero el espa~ol es el lenguage de mis padres, el primero que aprendi, y por el momento en el que esta escrito el libro que devora mis horas.

Debo admitir, que era mas feliz cuando pensaba menos, cuando no tenia la incesante y juvenil necesidad de sobre analizar todo y a todos; cuando mi mente era pura y mi espiritu no habia sido corrompido por la bendicion de la filosofia. Aun asi, puedo asegurar que mi falta de felicidad es algo causado puramente por mi y nadie mas, he sido yo quien ha elegido este camino, que precia el intelecto mas alto que la dulce ignorancia de no saber y solo vivir.

Extra~o de esos dias, la facilidad con que caia mi risa y la confianza tan facilmente depositada en las personas sin desconfiar ni analizar cada accion de ellas para contigo como un indicio de aquello que podrian querer o solicitar de ti eventualmente. En mi aun hay parte de esa inocencia, pero mentiria si dijera que la disfruto o la aprovecho, he crecido, y tristemente, he dejado a este mundo torcido cambiarme de la persona que era y que quize ser algun dia, en la excusa de ser humano en la que me he convertido.

Esta ni~a que llevo dentro, de vez en cuando se toma sus libertades y sale a jugar un rato con el mundo, a darle un poco de luz, a quienes me rodean y a mi, a pesar de yo misma. Solo puedo imaginar lo ridicula que me veia hoy, andando por las calles de esta ciudad, como si no tuviese preocupacion alguna, con una sorisa plantada en el rostro, y casi bailando al andar mientras Charlie McDonell, Alex Day y Daniel Radcliffe sonaban en mis audifonos; recibiendo toda clases de miradas extra~as, pero, saben que? no me importa, porque en ese momento, en el cual las miradas de los demas no importaban, el futuro era algo, del futuro, y mi pasado nadie lo conocia; en ese momento, y esto va a sonar egoista, pero en ese momento en el que no pensaba en nada ni nadie, y solo vivia, en ese momento me senti feliz.

Si la felicidad es un camino y no una meta, y un camino lo hacen los pies al andar, no es momento de que cada uno empecemos a andar nuestra felicidad?

About writing....

Writing has never been one of my talents, reading on the other hand, comes as easy as breathing. I read, because I love the feeling of going into a different world, meeting the people in the books, even when the reality of not having them as I close the book fills my lungs with the sadness of being private from air. I attempt to write, because it nourishes my soul with the never-ending use of imagination, I write, in paper, because the feeling of scratching its surface with a pencil or pen is irreplaceable; I write, on the computer, because the sound of the keys being pressed, as fast as my fingers transfer the words from my brain into the screen, is far better than music. I fight every word, reread every sentence and erase them, because they sounded better in my head, battle again with every expression, rethink every scenario, revive every feeling that brought me to whatever is in front of me and inside my head; and then I rewrite every letter.

Writing and reading, such different and similar acts, both of them are not for everyone, both of them are for everybody, both require passion, both are logical and aren't at all. Feelings come into play, feelings might as well be discarded; but there's not a book or a thought to write, that will not arouse a set of clashing feelings.

I read because for me, it's like breathing, I read, because I love to do it.

I write because it's nourishment, I write because I love to do it.