Confesión de un alma perdida

A mi amor desahuciado,

Tengo algo que confesarte, sé que no hablamos y que talvez ya no exista en tu mente; pero la verdad es que todavía me dueles.  Siempre me pregunto en que estás pensando.  Me pregunto, por ejemplo, si te acuerdas de nosotros, o de los sueños que compartíamos, o de los momentos que vivimos.

Por mi parte te cuento que los pedazos que quedan tienen demasiados filos agudos, cada tajo se vuelve más profundo, me recuerda que ya no te tengo; y otra vez te pierdo.  Te cuento tambíen que existes en el dolor de no tenerte, caminas por los recovecos vacíos de nuestros sueños, te encuentro en mi cama vacía, te escucho en el eco de mi risa perdida, te siento en el rastro de tus caricias, y te amo en la sombra de nuestra historia.

Y así, nuevamente, consigo un instante contigo.


“Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate”

Recently I blogged about taking things for granted. However, my blog focused on identity, and no so much on a physical level. Truth is, there are tons of things that we take for granted, simply because we let life and routine get in the way; we get too consumed by today’s hassle, that we forget to be grateful about the things that matter, which more often than not, are the things that neither money nor connections can buy, however, there are some exceptions..

It is through hardship that we learn people’s true colors, and most of  us will sulk and complain when “the road gets rocky”… But there are special people, whom regardless of what they are going through, can still manage to be kind and smile.. Today, I’d like to dedicate my blog to a special girl (whom I have never met), yet she is someone who’s story touched my heart, and made me be thankful for everything I have, she reminded me that a smile is always the best way to face life’s uncertainties… And for that, sweet girl, I thank you dearly and I will keep you and your family in my prayers.

Michelle is her name, and from what I read about her, she is a kind and sweet angel, with a warm smile on her face… Though her story has some scattered misfortunes, she still smiles… I personally cannot be of much help to this sweet girl, simply because I have no means of helping her (as I am still unemployed)… Alas, we have arrived to one of those exceptions to “money can’t buy happiness”. I urge my readers to click on the link and meet Michelle, know about her story, and hopefully you will be able to help her… Her only wish, is to walk.. I know for one, I have never thanked my legs for moving as I will, allowing me to walk, jump, run, and most importantly to move to the rhythms of songs that speak to me (as a Hispanic girl, dancing brings my cells to life).. I am not urging people to read upon her story simply to collect money, it goes much further than that… I am urging you to read because it is an opportunity to make a dream come true (or in her case, bring it back to her), I am urging you to read because, it will change you, and once again, you will be able to see that life (no matter the ups and downs) is truly beautiful, and though we all have our unique circumstances, we can all agree that after  a long day (of what ever it is we do) we keep breathing, we still have our health, we have our loved ones (even if they have parted the physical world), and so we can keep going (preferably, like Michelle, with a smile on our face), and that is something to be grateful for…

I now relay my good bye to you sweet Michelle, I send all the best energy your way, and may your family be able to give you back that which you have lost, so that your smile will be even brighter once more…


Eluding happiness

If ideas and thoughts crossed our brain barrier like oxygen does, through diffusion, perhaps there wouldn’t be so many misunderstandings.  It is said that communication is the key to having a healthy and happy relationship, and this key applies to any kind of relationship, even the political ones (though I have tons to say on that matter I shall, of course, save it for some other blog).  In this particular one I rather focus on the mind boggling thoughts that perhaps, once they are out of my mind and in a more, somewhat, tangible form, I will be able to reach a tranquil state of mind (and finally focus in what I need to do, like study).  Through the cloudiness of my upset mind, a common saying seeps through, “If you don’t expect anything, you won’t be disappointed”.  Is this true? Does happiness rely on having low or no expectations?  If so, where is the line between happiness and just settling for what one has? Where does healthy ambition and motivation fit into this concept?  As most girls do (or well, I do quite often) I have reviewed recent scenarios over and over, analyzing them in order to understand what happened, see and comprehend my faults, and find a way to better myself.  How can something be fixed if nobody attempts to do it?  Late last night (after many failed attempts at alluring the one person I was craving to see) he finally came to see me.  I have discovered recently, that I can be quite vengeful and a bit psychotic, not in a “call the cops way”, more in a “I am extremely horny, I am going out of my mind” way.  Much to my surprise, I am quite a sexual person, and sadly enough (I am quite shameful of admitting it) I am a hopelessly, somewhat cynical, romantic. Though I would like to sue Disney and all the romantic novels (that we endure through out our life time) for embedding romance into my head; and as much as I try to deny and defy it, I still find my self hoping for a glimpse, however slight, of romance in my relationship.  This becomes even more emotionally palpable to me when I encounter the thief that (many many moons ago) stole my heart and soul. He is (as I have mentioned before) a romance antagonist, and rather, an emotionally unavailable person; though he does his best to put that aside for me, I still (after all this time) wish for more.  Why can’t my heart catch up with my mind already, I think it would save me so many arguments and disappointments.  Of course by heart, I mean my limbic system, my amygdala, my hormones and neurotransmitters, and other cerebral areas that are not necessarily involved with the logical, more practical part of my brain.
As I mentioned earlier, last night I met a train of disappointments when my “susodicho” finally came for a visit.  As I also mentioned, I wanted to be vengefully mean and angry at him for leaving me unattended for such an extended period of time (I was also expecting flowers, or some sort of gesture).  However I surprised my self, and as soon as my brain made out his silhouette in the dark, my heart (ready to be reunited with him) started racing and pounding rather violently in my chest, my stomach, all of a sudden, was filled with butterflies. Unpredictably, I was (after such a long time with out a bright exploding package of emotions) expecting a passionate encounter. I lunged myself to him, and clung to him so tight that I thought somehow we had formed an ionic bond.  After what felt  much too soon, he lightly released me, and greeted me with an amused smile on his too perfect face. I sought his eyes immediately, and I found my self, once again, lost in the depth of his private deep chocolate brown eyes.  I couldn’t believe myself, where did all my anger and friskiness went?  We lingered in the living room for a bit while we watched a movie with my mom and my brother, I couldn’t wait to touch him again, so I made up a sad excuse to leave the room. Conveniently enough, earlier that day I had spent the day having, much needed, girl time (quite frankly this too requires a blog of it’s own).  I took the gifts that my girls kindly and selflessly gave me, and used it as the perfect exit cue.  We headed to my room so I could show off my pretty gifts, and was hoping to get ravished as soon as we crossed the threshold, but that did not happened of course.  As the urge began to gurgle in my being once more, I again felt frisky and annoyed. Why wasn’t he kissing me, why didn’t he have his hands all over me??? Instead he had made himself comfortable in my bed (looking sexy as hell in his casual sweat pants that hug his hips just perfectly, making his V-cut slightly visible, and white shirt that showed his recently worked out pecks) and just looked at me. Little by little each boiling bubble of anger, sexual frustration, and reality check, began to burst my romantic novel ideas, so I took a childish and capricious approach.  I grumbled about how he’s not as sweet to me as he use to be, how he doesn’t spoil me any more, and I told him that I want more affection from him.  I did not let it go of course, I was already too frustrated, and he still wasn’t kissing me or touching me.  The lack of touch made me even more edgy, soon he closed down and became distant.  And all I did was to make him feel upset and apparently guilty.  To my dismay I had a surprise visit from some beloved kin;  the rest of the evening we spent in lovely company and surrounded by giggles, all acerbic feelings gone.  Starting a shamefully late morning , I attempted to surprise my “susodicho”, and was planning on heading his way, get some errands and studying done while I waited for him to get off from work. Because I wanted the latter part to be a surprise, I did not mentioned it, and after him giving me a more practical suggestion regarding my errands, I got (once again) disappointed.  After some back and forth arguing, I discovered that my attitude (whose etiology, I had attempted to explain to him already) was bothering him.  As a wounded dog, I retrieved my romantic plans with my tail between my legs, and decided to just go about my day as if nothing had happened.  I told him to do the same. Re reading everything, I am trying to find a way out of this.  Where did I go wrong? Yes, perhaps I should have just told him what my plans originally were, but that doesn’t mean I am annoying, does it?  And, I truly am not using my friskiness as an excuse, I honestly believe that it is one of the reasons as to why every emotion mixes up inside of me and increases exponentially.  Three hours later I have not heard from the working man, with two more hours to go until he leaves to the gym… I realize that I have not yet studied.. Again I pull my attention to the present, and leave my analysis for later more affordable minutes, perhaps after my quiz I can afford to dedicate more time to this…  With yet another question, what happens when we are married???

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…