Entirety…and a glass of wine

I am not one to consume alcoholic beverages, however, sporadically I do enjoy a glass of sangria (as long as it’s sweet and cold), or rather a few sips, since I rarely finish the 1/4 of a glass that I pour myself.  Something about today yells cocktail time! Though I cannot allow, nor bring myself to actually have a cocktail or a drink (other than wine); honestly, the whole idea of  somehow losing control (I know that only happens through an exaggerated amount of alcohol), at any level,  just does not appeal to me.  Plus, I love my neurons, and every other cell in my body.  As a nerdy confession, I have to admit that after studying physiology, biology and all the other “ology” sciences about the body, I try my best to keep my body at homeostasis.  As I consider how life unravels, I sip some more wine.  Its sweet pungent taste covers my tongue with smooth fluidity, and it stimulates every taste bud.  What is it about this trihydroxy-stilbenoid that amuses the senses (when consumed in moderation)?
As I consider the future and the things that will change, I must ask, is thinking really being complicated (as some people will have me believe), or is it just a way of being prepared?  Perhaps thinking ahead is a combination of both, with (just like love and hate) a filmy and subjective line separating one from the other.  Surely at the point where they intertwine is when it either becomes complicated, or we find the answer to what started a thought.  Once again, I begin to wonder, why is change sometimes difficult to accept? We live in a dynamic world, hence, we should be use to it, however, it is the comfort of a routine, and a static life style to which we cling for assurance; and then we complain about a monotonous life.  Life is full of contradictions, and that is exactly how I define myself, a walking paradox.  Making a mental list of the things that fill my mind with concern, I realize that after a deep breath, things don’t seem as impossible, and little by little, solutions begin to formulate. So, perhaps the well know saying “everything has a solution, except death” is true (its actually a Spanish saying, however, I think it makes sense when translated).  Hoping to get some insight, I start my list.
Health insurance, an obligation in this country, and one that I have been meaning to fulfill in the last week, but somehow I still seem to fail to achieve.  How do I explain to google that I am a student, with student loans to pay, and no income what so ever as I await my graduation.  All I get is affordable “health plans”, that to me are not affordable at all, since I don’t have any income what so ever. Soon leaving the nest and starting a life of my own, I am use to being spoiled and protected by my parents, how will the change affect me, I still don’t know, but I find the new adventure sometimes alluring.  Grocery shopping is another abrupt awakening to reality, $13.00 for 10 apples.  How are the middle and lower class suppose to afford eating healthy, if we can’t even afford fruit. No wonder America has obesity problems, the most affordable things are it’s trade marks: McDonald’s, Burger King, precooked and preserved foods, the list is endless.   Money seems to be the focal point for many things.  You need money to be healthy and fit, you need money to become a professional someone, and you even need money to afford being insane, not being in a right mind is not a luxury we can all afford, and then again, you need money to be mentally stable. Personally, I find that shopping and running is the best therapy for emotional unbalance, but obviously I can’t afford myself, hence I allow craziness to replenish me.  I find it to be quite fun, and I have come to realize that being a little crazy and out of norm is rather the best way to be, stand out from the crowd, not being ashamed of not fitting into the mold that society cuts out for us…  Sipping some more wine I realize that half the day has gone by, and alas, I must peel myself from my wondering mind, with another farewell I shall concentrate in the present…

Pride or love (e altri desideri)

Here I lay, once again, with the imperative need to go out running, which usually happens after spending some time tossing and turning in my bed with all sort of thoughts, and things unsaid.  At 2am, it probably is not a good idea, however, some running is being done by my mind.  At different speeds, different flashes of arguments had, and retorts said (or unsaid), I lay in bed without the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. Why can’t romantic love be that fictional idea that novels and Disney make so appealing to us (from a very young age), and to which we so desperately cling to.  The hopeful wish that the love of your life,  after an argument/disagreement/or awkward phone call, will eventually contact you with out the usual “battle of power and righteousness”.  How is it that sweet (sometimes recent) memories become distant and obscured after a few days back to reality?  Earlier this week my lover and I spent two days together with some time to enjoy each other.  I don’t know how a male brain works, but mainly for me, when I spend time with him, everything seems magical, and for that moment, the world stands still, reality becomes better than any fairy tale, and the world finally makes sense.
After our non-extensive vacation (though it was more of a decreased sense of responsibilities), we returned to our homes and responsibilities with promises to continue the magic that  had started between fluffy pillows and considerably white linings. Twenty four hours after a short lived fairy tale, I lay, a bit frustrated, hours after not talking due to an awkward conversation (the only sort of communication through out the day) and I have to wonder, why is it that it’s easier for the guy to keep quiet and ignore?  Though with years of trial and error, and teary practices, I have managed to polish this attribute (which I so very much envied), and now I am proud to say that I too can pass countless hours without dialing his number, or trying to contact him(regardless of how bad my fingers urge to defy me)… Of course I have not yet been able to tame my mind, which is the main culprit for all the madness that, like tonight, keeps me awake. When I look back at how intense my 21 year old self use to be, I must say my 26th year old self has come a long way.  I am quite intense, and somewhat still needy, however, I have learned to channel that toward more productive activities; as a great example, my room is now impeccable, and tomorrow (actually, later on today) a good forecast can be made about the re-organization of my entire closet.  But, if I stop for one minute, all the suppressed feelings, questions, and worries come rushing back.  How do we get to this point, where silence is better than a loud disagreement, where neither side will get a point across (in our particular case, I believe, is because we are both hard headed stubborn people). I also wonder, will this newly developed pattern (newly developed for me, and perfection-ed for him) of not speaking and engaging in other activities, soon ripen into the abyss that separates so many married couples (and to think we haven’t even said our vows!).  So, boiling back to the origin of the raveling thought, should pride win? Or should one side give in, even though (sadly) it is usually the same side that gives in. Is it stupidity, or love?  Can one make a point by giving in, or is it better to not give in and let pride fuel the argument (which most of the time gets”lost in translation”, thought, and/or the recollection of events) and the reasons why we resorted to ignoring each other.  After quenching certain needs that boggled my being, I had the sudden and urgent craving to hear his voice, or to know that he too, was thinking about me, or missing me. But when I realized that he was probably sleeping, and was not bothered at all by the fact that we did not say good night, and stopped talking all together after he expressed some “mixed feelings” about my writing/thoughts, I decided against it… Instead my fingers found a way to get rid of some of that frustrating itch to press something, which use to be his phone number, but now, thanks to my alternative escape, I am able to resist the temptation… Finally, having drained some of the last sparks of energy, my mind, eyes, and body prepare to drift into the sweet darkness of sleep…

Differences…

What is the limit to honesty? Is saying things the way they are, or how you truly feel, the best way to be? Or is it best to keep things to yourself most of the time, and say what people want to hear half of the time, all for the sake of being at peace and not risking hurting any body’s feelings? I have been told, at times, that I can be harsh, and that is only because I don’t really sugar coat my opinions or thoughts, though I do try to explain them in the nicest way possible, contrary to certain believes, I am not a heartless, evil, selfish bitch… I am extremely honest and opinionated; recently however(by recently I mean in the last hour or so),  I started thinking that perhaps “opinionated and honest” is not a very good combination.  Why share your thoughts with the people that mean the most to you, if later it will come back to bite you in the rear? But then again, if you are pretending otherwise, or keeping your thoughts to yourself, what is the point of thinking?
I feel as if a metaphorical rug has been pulled from underneath me. To a degree, having a hypothetical rug disappear from underneath you, is worse than having the actual rug unbalance your stance… The sense of falling, when the rug is hypothetical, is ever lasting, you keep preparing for some sort of impact that never comes. Through the eternal falling, one is able to analyze every angle of a situation, and according to each person, I suppose, we reach to different conclusions.  I suppose as well that, culture and background, must have an imperative effect on how we all reach a conclusion.  Not too long ago, a different angle on what I previously wrote was brought to my attention; and though I never meant it in a harmful way, I never thought that, to other people, it could be.  Before I develop any further on this particular post, I must clarify some things. I truly do consider myself  a lucky girl, in many aspects of life.
1) I have been blessed with amazing parents and siblings (amazing, not perfect). They support my every whim, they love me unconditionally, and though we do have scary fights, at the end of the day, we know that we have each other. 2) I am an intellectual and analytical person, bubbly, honest, happy,  and compassionate as far as personality goes, and quite decent as far as physical appearances go. 3) As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, in the love aspect, I am also lucky. What I perhaps did not mention (mainly because it slipped my mind in the spur of the moment, and partly because I was quite cold and I wanted to relocate) is that though my future family to be is quite different, (and may not know me fully) I have been blessed with loving, sweet, and somewhat easy to get along with people (as easy as it ever is to get along with people that don´t share the same language, traditions, and believes).   As far as mothers in law goes, I am quite fortunate.  Yes, we differ a lot in our views of life, religion, and marriage, but we do get along. I should also mention that we love and care for each other, and though our relationship has not developed fully, it has had a great start.  I do not consider her a monster in law, as so many other unfortunate souls have confessed to me about their own personal experiences.  And quite honestly, I would like to break the chain of tradition regarding mother-daughter in law relationships.
Now, once again, the notion of differences comes to mind, as well as the way in which we interpret our surroundings.  Communication is a deceiving word, it seems rather simple having very few letters (some of them repeated), and quit harmless in its meaning. In verity, it is a double edge sword, quite useful if both parties reach the same understanding, but extremely harmful if something between exchanges is missing or misinterpreted.  Why is it then that people venture and seek to bring two different worlds together at such high risks?  One says blue, and the other may see black, one sees orange, and the other says tulips.  On an every day basis,  and when it comes to interacting with one another, we are hardly on the same page. Perhaps this is why, at a cellular level, communication between cells (and the effects unleashed by an interpretation of messages), are highly and meticulously regulated.  It is not merely an action reaction event, rather, it is a cascade of actions and reactions that lead to one final event.  Perhaps if we all communicated this way, there would be less misunderstandings, less arguments, and less hurt feelings.  This holds true with any types of relationship, not just the romantic type.  Though in my personal case, it mainly pertains to the romantic relationship.  How can we move forward if one side perceives the other as malicious, or does not have a full understanding of the unraveling mind of the other.  If either side is not able to see things from a different perspective other than his/her own, if one side feels deprived, or limited and can’t be honest about it, can a relationship (and a marriage) emerge victorious through out time and history? I doubt that without honesty, trust, and scrupulously intensive attempts at good communication (which so far have proven to be the key to any sort of relationship), a marriage can survive.  Though only life and time  will tell…

Un corto pensamiento pensante

Al descubrir la puerta de liberación mental, será que me volveré fugitiva a través de mis pensamientos? He pasado una hora sentada alfrente de mi computador (la tablet la dejé de lado ya que me parece muy confuso “bloggear” usandola), permintiendo escapadas mentales al pasado, recordando mis intentos italianos. Mi cuarto sigue desordenado, y mis diversas obligaciones (sean académicas o de otra índole) me llaman a lo lejos… Con ansias de volver sin aún haber partido, me despido por ahora…

Balance above all

I am a girl of many passions, most of which I indulge (or try to at least) on a regular basis, recently,however, I have neglected some of these pass-times.  Why is it so easy to get involved in the daily routine of what we think our lives should be.  Yes, we all have certain responsibilities and/or obligations, but why is it easier to neglect that what makes us happy, than to postpone the things that stress us out?  Personally, I create a huge mental abyss, filled with excuses and limitations, and keep myself from enjoying the little things in life.  Last night I finally made it a point on going to a meeting at Barnes and Noble across from the University I attend. Though it is not so much of a meeting as it is of a gathering filled with Italian people, or like me, people who are just dying to learn and speak the romantically musical tongue.  I was reminded immediately of how happy it makes me to speak the language, or try my very best, being able to practice it and feel the pronunciation. To speak Italian is not just about knowing how to say  “il dolce far niente”, rather, it is all about speaking through facial expressions, and quite importantly, using your hands, conveying every word with passion.  Speaking Italian, just like speaking any other language, is a door through which you experience the culture, you submerge yourself fully into the meaning of what, in this case, being an Italian is.  Last night I was instantly reminded of how much I had missed letting my brain switch to Italian, and how much joy it really brings me.  Another interesting trait  from last night was one woman in particular, though she calls her self a “befana”, the Italian version of the three kings in the Hispanic world, which are the ones that originally brought gifts to the children on January 6th, as oppose to the more Americanized and commercialized version of Santa Clause on December 25th.  To me she was quite inspirational, with some winters towards her experience, she told amazing stories, and gave personal and vivid advice, to which I was glad that I could relate to, and had already discovered on my own, though it was nice to realize where I am headed. Her view of the world, how she expressed herself, and that sparkle of comfort and love of her self, is definitely the key that very few people, are able to find, and that is the key that keeps the soul young.  Sadly, it is mostly women the ones that lack the secret to ever lasting youth, and mainly focus in the physical aspect of it. We all think that aging of the body means aging of our entire being, and that is not necessarily true.  There are so many products and industries dedicated to keeping us young (those dedicated to making women beautiful and/or skinny are with-in a separate category), that we completely neglect the truth, a young and peaceful soul will be reflected in our eyes.  Another reason why perhaps it is women the ones that miss out in the secret, is the pressure society puts on us, and most importantly, the power we give it to affect us.  Being a devoted sister, friend, daughter, mother, wife, student, or even religious person, does not mean that we should leave aside what makes us unique.  By putting ourselves first ( not in a selfish, conceited way, but rather in a spiritual and mental way) might make it easier to fulfill each of those roles in a much calmer manner.  And perhaps prevent stress and wrinkles from creeping in early on, truth be told, we all have that vanity concern, at our own level of course.  Writing is another of the pass-times that I have neglected, but hopefully will be doing a lot more of from now on.  Having writing and Italian under check, I will make an effort to concentrate on dancing, and enjoy the wet precipitation from a cloudy dark day, that is not welcomed by many.
If we find something that fills us with joy, why make up excuses to keep it at bay?  Are we scared of being happy, or is it just that we get so consumed in our daily routines that we forget what it is like to enjoy the little things? It appears so, since we need constant reminders, movies, poems, songs; and for some, even self help books.  Why look on the outside, when in truth, all the answers are found with in?  Turns out that just in the middle is the best place to be.  The balance between what you have to do, and doing what makes you happy.  That to me, is the key to being forever young, in mind and soul, the body will wither with time, but the soul can live for ever, given that energy is neither created nor destroy, but rather transformed.  Not striving for perfection, instead, accepting those little imperfections that makes us unique, and of course, a little of ” I don’t give a rats ass what people think” to keep us from recruiting back into the lifeless shell of protection we tend to put up…

High life-xpectations?

Just a random thought, how exactly does one know if the current path is the right one?
On my way to class, as thoughts about my exam score (which I did not fail, but must admit I thought I had done a lot better), reality, responsibilities, and so on, developed and connected in my mind, I realized that it is passed mid-September. With only four days left in the 9th month, which for some reason I always picture with a yellowish tone, I have literally three months left of the single life. A rush of emotions ran through me faster than a cbr 1100.  As each emotion (excitement, nervousness, joy, and somewhat tapping on woefulness) left  my body in a “peak to valley” motion, one seemed to prevail: worry.  Is it normal to worry about getting married, and knowing that you might not be cut out for a married life? To most people, the worrying aspect of marriage is mainly the fact that they would be legally and emotionally bound to one person for the fairy tale version of “a monstrously long time”: for ever. However, this particular reason is not something that deprives me of sleep. I know to the last molecule in my body that I am deeply and unequivocally in love with my hubby to be. Truth is, when it comes to significant others, I am quite lucky. Despite our ups and downs as a couple, and though he may not be the romantic type, he does seek to spoil me, and tries with all his might to make me happy; considering the fact that I am an indecisive, intricate, devilishly emotional and sensitive gal.  My epicenter of worry is mainly due to financial problems, and to some extent, family/culture differences. As a 26 year old undergrad student, I never thought I would be this old, and with no direction of life goal achievements. And while I am being honest, I never thought I would be getting married before being a professional, independent woman. Life wraps surprises in every intangible way possible.  Through different scenarios, I find myself in the present time, not yet graduated (but in the eve of my last semester), without a job, and engaged.  Definitely not what I had in mind when I was forced to migrate with my parents to the famous land of opportunities nine years ago.  Though it has turned out to be quite an experience, and I have learned and changed so much, it is still not ideal.  I have not yet made an imperative discovery, nor have I yet changed the world into a more compassionate place.  Instead I have managed to add up over $20,000 in student loans, and about $900 in my savings (through mediocre little part time jobs).  Six years after I started my student carrier (and after foolishly taking a year off), my graduate title will read Neuroscience and Biological Science, and minor in Italian. To some it sounds quite impressive, to me, it is merely a mockery of time and money wasted. I do not feel any smarter, and as a science graduate, I am not yet able to have a decent paying job; truth is, I didn’t think the studious plan through.  As an eager young nerd, one does not take into consideration (or at least, I didn’t) that science require half your life span and years of dedication to make a career that will support you and/or, at the very least, pay the bills.  As a soon to be graduate, I am faced with the reality of a huge college loan, and no career possibilities unless I keep going (which I very much intend to do) into a Masters and even a PhD degrees.  How exactly will I afford those dreams, I still do not know.  In the mean time, I have two more months to figure out how to start paying the rather large amount of money, and most importantly, how can I start a life with, the previously mentioned, hubby to be.  It seems unfair to have to drag him through my emotional and financial, thymus-reducing, crisis.  Knowing that we cannot start from zero, since I already have a huge debt, leads me to rethink the “moving in with the family” issue.  Definitely not something I ever wanted to do, and now even less so, since my baby sister claims that she will move out by the time she turns 21.
The latter, does not help my dependent situation; rather it nudges my (already brittle) self esteem that much closer to complete self loathing and disappointment.  Drowning in a sea of different thoughts and possibilities, the question remains, should we just stay in the comfort parent zone?  Though it is hardly a “comfort zone”.  I must add as well, that I am a newly Muslim convert, though I enjoy the religion at my own pace, my future parents in law (particularly my future mother in law), have different views as to what constitutes a good Muslim, and most definitively, what constitutes a good wife.  As a Hispanic girl, I am load, outspoken, hot headed, and extremely sexual, not submissive at all. I do, every so often, enjoy my solitude, and I like to hypothesis about everything I can.  Having grown up in a sexist society, I learned very early on to speak my mind, repel certain ideas, and not take, for lack of a better word, crap from anyone. I have always detested the idea that both my grandmothers, and some of my aunts, wanted to embed in my, and my cousins’ heads “The woman has to learn to cook and clean for her husband”.  Of course, now would be a good time to mention that my hubby to be does not think in this way at all. However, after a recent conversation with his mother, the words burn in my limbic system. “You are going to be married now, you can’t put your duties aside for studies or anything else, in our culture, the man comes first”.  I politely nodded, partly because I didn’t know what else to do, and mainly because I do not speak Bangla.  If either she spoke Spanish, or I spoke Bangla, I would have told her that I do not share her views, and that I come from a completely different background, where I speak my mind, I am not submissive, and the husband is just as capable as the wife is, of cooking, cleaning and looking after him/herself.  But not wanting to start a war early on, and thinking that we would start together else where, I decided to stay  quite.  Nowthat the vulture like question is upon us, I have to reconsider everything.  His parent’s house, or mine? So many factors to consider, all revolving around the fact that I have not yet lived to any of my expectations.  How, when, what, why, all have always formed part of my daily thought process, recently, however, they have acquired a much serious meaning, with a dark sort of grayish tone.
What about tiny humans, that little genetic combination of two lovers?? Alas, that indeed is an entirely new blog…

explorando un mundo virtual

Jamás me he llevado bien con la tecnología, aparte de las funciones básicas de un computador, generalmente me pierdo, mi celular no es nada elegante, me permite hacer llamadas, mandar mensajes de texto, y raramente cuando la oportunidad se presenta, tomar una fotografía. Hasta hace poco,mí escritura y lectura se limitaban a las privadas hojas de papel, sin alcance a las personas a quienes no les permitía acceso. No hace mucho dí el brazo a torcer, ahora soy la dueña de una pequeña tablet, la cual todavía no sé como usar. Hasta ahora ha probado ser bastante útil, la mayor parte del tiempo, sin embargo,  no nos ponemos de acuerdo y termino gritándole mis frustraciones.  La idea de empezar un blog surgió de la necesidad de, como dice mi ídolo literario Isabel Allende, exorcisar mis demonios a través de la escritura. Por qué empezar un blog virtual cuando puedo hacerlo privado en diversas hojas de papel? Para ser franca, debo admitir que es mucho más simple ‘tipear’ que escribir, así también puedo evitar que se pierdan mis ideas y “altri pensieri”  pues soy bastabte olvidadiza; también cave recalcar que en un blog virtual tengo la facilidad de tenerlo a mano, a disposición de mis pensamientos, mientras intento convertir los impulsos eléctricos en palabras y en un formato legible, seguramente un poco confuso. Pero así refleja lo compleja que es mi mente,  mezclada, poco organizada, saltando de un idioma a otro sin previo aviso…