For a moment today, it felt like I was inside a snow globe.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Around me, inside me
The john mayer poster is falling off my wall. I think the winter cold makes the tape weaker, so I'll have to replace it soon before it falls. The inspiration before me is no longer inspiring. That, or I am not looking with hunger. Looking with hunger. What a term... I'd like to think at this very moment that I invented it. Just like I invented... no, that's the only thing I've invented. Or I don't remember the rest. I have unfinished things around me, all around me. And I know for a fact I'm unfinished. So all this mediocrity is burning me.
I have too many photos or I need new ones. I can't focus on the past and the future at the same time, but because I try, I am like I am. I'm singing along this guys I've never seen yet I feel I know them so well. Dame fe, dame alas, dame fuerza para sobrevivir... en este mundo. That's what the song says.
Maybe I need an empty wall. Fresh starts never hurt, but it's hard to empty spaces.
I have too many photos or I need new ones. I can't focus on the past and the future at the same time, but because I try, I am like I am. I'm singing along this guys I've never seen yet I feel I know them so well. Dame fe, dame alas, dame fuerza para sobrevivir... en este mundo. That's what the song says.
Maybe I need an empty wall. Fresh starts never hurt, but it's hard to empty spaces.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
"Tenes que escribirlo..."
I was talking to my friend Pau yesterday and in between everything we talked about, a funny story came up. Something about me, a friend, a hot saturday in El Salvador, and melting ice cream in the middle of the highway. A low point in my life... maybe. A funny moment that will stay with me forever... without a doubt. What makes it even funnier is that she saw me. Giving away ice cream. On her way to the beach. I was sweating and quite embarrassed.
She said I have to write it. And I think I want to, I want to write everything. The low points, the high points. The good, the bad, the funny, the sad. My life story. I want to put her in words that someone will care about sometime. And I hope to do it in a way that people will enjoy reading.
:)
I want to do so much.
But for now, I'll take off to see a dear friend. And a movie.
She said I have to write it. And I think I want to, I want to write everything. The low points, the high points. The good, the bad, the funny, the sad. My life story. I want to put her in words that someone will care about sometime. And I hope to do it in a way that people will enjoy reading.
:)
I want to do so much.
But for now, I'll take off to see a dear friend. And a movie.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
“He always said hello,” said someone.
I am so sad, when I first saw the news of the death of Heath Ledger on the internet, my heart sank. I really liked him and I loved so many of his movies. It's weird that you can feel like this over someone you don't know personally. I think it comes with the connection of my generation. From seeing him in Ten Things I Hate About You to A Knight's Tale and his latest and greatest work. It's sad.
RIP Heath Ledger.
On the news.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Ode to you, who reads these lines
When you come by,
to read these lines of happiness and sadness,
I want to hear the lines
that go by your mind
I want to see if I make you smile
or frown.
I want to know your name,
your full name
and where your name comes from.
You see, my name is a combination,
I have my grandmothers' names
but my mom wanted to name me Florence Lee.
What is the name you almost owned?
Or what name you chose for you yourself and why you chose it.
What does your name mean?
Isn't that a conversation starter?
Mine means "bright" and I'm pretty sure it's German
and the other one is Greek and it means
well-born or of noble descend.
I'm not Greek or German,
no, I come from the middle of the Earth,
next to a dormant volcano.
Where are you from?
I want to know it
and if you can swim.
And if you swim,
I want to know if you've ever been
swimming in the ocean
beneath the waves
above the sand...
And I want to know
what is your favorite color
and if you dream in Spanish or English.
I want to know if you've ever spent the night
looking up the sky,
finding smiles in the stars and with your back
cold and wet from the grass that holds you.
Or have you ever loved someone so much
you pray for them every night
until you fall asleep.
Please tell me, tell me if you ever touched the thorn of a rose
just to see if something so beautiful
could hurt you.
Tell me about your dreams
and your fears
and about the book you're reading.
Tell me
who you are
and if there's a song that makes you cry
or a poem.
Tell me if you write and how you write and where you write
or if you draw instead.
Tell me if you've come here before
or if it's the first time.
Tell me, I want to know, I need to know,
because if I get to hear about you
I might just find in you
some of me.
1-20-07
to read these lines of happiness and sadness,
I want to hear the lines
that go by your mind
I want to see if I make you smile
or frown.
I want to know your name,
your full name
and where your name comes from.
You see, my name is a combination,
I have my grandmothers' names
but my mom wanted to name me Florence Lee.
What is the name you almost owned?
Or what name you chose for you yourself and why you chose it.
What does your name mean?
Isn't that a conversation starter?
Mine means "bright" and I'm pretty sure it's German
and the other one is Greek and it means
well-born or of noble descend.
I'm not Greek or German,
no, I come from the middle of the Earth,
next to a dormant volcano.
Where are you from?
I want to know it
and if you can swim.
And if you swim,
I want to know if you've ever been
swimming in the ocean
beneath the waves
above the sand...
And I want to know
what is your favorite color
and if you dream in Spanish or English.
I want to know if you've ever spent the night
looking up the sky,
finding smiles in the stars and with your back
cold and wet from the grass that holds you.
Or have you ever loved someone so much
you pray for them every night
until you fall asleep.
Please tell me, tell me if you ever touched the thorn of a rose
just to see if something so beautiful
could hurt you.
Tell me about your dreams
and your fears
and about the book you're reading.
Tell me
who you are
and if there's a song that makes you cry
or a poem.
Tell me if you write and how you write and where you write
or if you draw instead.
Tell me if you've come here before
or if it's the first time.
Tell me, I want to know, I need to know,
because if I get to hear about you
I might just find in you
some of me.
1-20-07
Saturday, January 19, 2008
Otro poema, porque si...
patria
naci bendita en una tierra del tiempo
en una hamaca de colores de alla hacia aca
soy de tierra
soy de agua
soy de maiz
soy de palmeras que se mecen con el viento
y de los colores del atardecer
naci bendita
en una tierra pobre
pero con alas de plata.
que mas da
si ya no puedo ver las noches como antes
o si el aire que hoy respiro es ajeno
casi dañino a mis pulmones
cuando yo se de donde vengo
de donde soy
y puedo decir que naci bendita
2-24-06
naci bendita en una tierra del tiempo
en una hamaca de colores de alla hacia aca
soy de tierra
soy de agua
soy de maiz
soy de palmeras que se mecen con el viento
y de los colores del atardecer
naci bendita
en una tierra pobre
pero con alas de plata.
que mas da
si ya no puedo ver las noches como antes
o si el aire que hoy respiro es ajeno
casi dañino a mis pulmones
cuando yo se de donde vengo
de donde soy
y puedo decir que naci bendita
2-24-06
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Do you ever think of happy endings?
I think of stories behind every photo I see and every laugh I hear. I think of two dimensional stories and they only come to me when I'm quiet. When I have time to make up names and places. I saw the pictures of the brother of a friend today. A treat for the eye and the mind, at least my eye and my mind. I like simple and unconventional and quiet and loud. I want color and peace and some type of emotion hitting my heart.
Quiet nights, bright lights, coffee cups and red bows.
Give me life. Give me hope.
Quiet nights, bright lights, coffee cups and red bows.
Give me life. Give me hope.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Sábado
Hoy encontre a un viejo amigo en uno de esos sitios de internet donde... puedes encontrar viejos amigos. Somos los mismos o cambiamos ya? hace tanto que no tomo una taza de cafe con una buena conversacion, hace tanto que ya hasta me he refujiado en el te de miel con limon, ademas de que ese te es bueno para cuando duele la garganta.
Pensaba en que la irregularidad del clima estos ultimos dias tiene a la gente rara. Ya no se sabe si en estos dias de poco sol la gente se deprime o va al parque, porque el termometro subio unos cuantos grados, tanto que se puede salir sin tener que depender de algo que nos cubra la piel sensible al hielo hecho viento. Es culpa nuestra, verdad?
Quiero pintar, pero el termometro no ha subido lo suficiente como para sacar las pinturas y los medios, no quiero pintar y que ya mañana se congele la obra.
Hablando de obra, es hora de volver, volver a la obra que se que tengo que hacer, a la obra de Dios. Pero que dificil es volver, cuando la misma religion te detiene. Creo que talvez, si El no hubiera prometido no volver a destruir y comenzar de cero, El ya lo habria hecho de nuevo. Somo malos, nosotros, los humanos.
Hoy va a medias. En las siguientes horas voy a ver a una amiga, a leer, a seguir trabajando en el asunto pendiente y voy a averiguar como se hace lo que no se hacer en ese programa bendito.
Es sábado y que no daria por una taza de cafe con una buena conversacion.
Pensaba en que la irregularidad del clima estos ultimos dias tiene a la gente rara. Ya no se sabe si en estos dias de poco sol la gente se deprime o va al parque, porque el termometro subio unos cuantos grados, tanto que se puede salir sin tener que depender de algo que nos cubra la piel sensible al hielo hecho viento. Es culpa nuestra, verdad?
Quiero pintar, pero el termometro no ha subido lo suficiente como para sacar las pinturas y los medios, no quiero pintar y que ya mañana se congele la obra.
Hablando de obra, es hora de volver, volver a la obra que se que tengo que hacer, a la obra de Dios. Pero que dificil es volver, cuando la misma religion te detiene. Creo que talvez, si El no hubiera prometido no volver a destruir y comenzar de cero, El ya lo habria hecho de nuevo. Somo malos, nosotros, los humanos.
Hoy va a medias. En las siguientes horas voy a ver a una amiga, a leer, a seguir trabajando en el asunto pendiente y voy a averiguar como se hace lo que no se hacer en ese programa bendito.
Es sábado y que no daria por una taza de cafe con una buena conversacion.
Sunday, January 06, 2008
"Where I am from"
This year has already been a bit awkward for me, to say the least. And I know I can do better, I know I can soar. The year has just started, so I have to switch up modes now, so that I feel I'm not wasting any more precious time.
In the summer of 2006 I went to a leadership institute where one of the exercises was to write a piece titled "where I am from". That was all we had as a guideline, the title. Everyone went a different way and for 15 minutes we wrote. I wrote a lot, but nothing with real meaning. Not only did I not have enough time to start (I already said here how hard it is for me to start things... including writing), but I had a lot of things I wanted to include, but then when I read over the composition, it didn't feel true enough, so I didn't read it out loud, like others did (that was the second part of the exercise). Some came up with beautiful poems, I just wrote down thoughts... unfinished thoughts.
So just now, I thought I'd give the exercise a second try. Just to see what comes out, and to see if that gives me clarity for this new year. Because you have to know where you're from, to know where you're going.
Where I am from
I am from an open family. An unconventional family.
Mami y hermana. And close outsiders.
Papi y hermanos... three more of them, two boys and a girl,
growing up together.
The family of different colors, towns, religions, and music.
I am from a childhood in which no one really understood how my family functioned. No matter how many times I explained.
Not a set picture, for me, familia meant close loved ones living under different roofs.
I am from fear of staying over at my dad's house on the weekends, fear that I wouldn't come back home.
I am from home, home that's not a place anymore, but a state of mind. Safety.
I am from a country whose children leave to have a future. I am one of those children.
I am from a window at the apartment at the third floor of an orange building. Eyes on the sun of every morning, the trees dancing for me and a volcano keeping me company. Nights of tropical breeze.
I am from where death is only a river that takes you to the other side.
I am from scars. Scars are a process of healing. A reminder of the journey from worse to better.
Scar over scar, my body is a reminder.
Green casts, nails and non-absorbable sutures. Hospital lights and smells. Nurses in white.
I'm from here. Remembering every smell, every step, every pharmacy, from counting minutes waiting on a doctor that took too long to visit with another kid.
I am from smiles and laughter.
I am from a box of watercolors and a piece of white paper, moments away from becoming a masterpiece.
I am from covering my face with color paint and making other kids laugh. Clowning came so natural.
The fire of hope coming true to me. No religion can ever top that fire.
I am from giving. I am from leaving. I am from looking. I am from staying true.
I am from a journey that has just started.
Jan-6-08
In the summer of 2006 I went to a leadership institute where one of the exercises was to write a piece titled "where I am from". That was all we had as a guideline, the title. Everyone went a different way and for 15 minutes we wrote. I wrote a lot, but nothing with real meaning. Not only did I not have enough time to start (I already said here how hard it is for me to start things... including writing), but I had a lot of things I wanted to include, but then when I read over the composition, it didn't feel true enough, so I didn't read it out loud, like others did (that was the second part of the exercise). Some came up with beautiful poems, I just wrote down thoughts... unfinished thoughts.
So just now, I thought I'd give the exercise a second try. Just to see what comes out, and to see if that gives me clarity for this new year. Because you have to know where you're from, to know where you're going.
Where I am from
I am from an open family. An unconventional family.
Mami y hermana. And close outsiders.
Papi y hermanos... three more of them, two boys and a girl,
growing up together.
The family of different colors, towns, religions, and music.
I am from a childhood in which no one really understood how my family functioned. No matter how many times I explained.
Not a set picture, for me, familia meant close loved ones living under different roofs.
I am from fear of staying over at my dad's house on the weekends, fear that I wouldn't come back home.
I am from home, home that's not a place anymore, but a state of mind. Safety.
I am from a country whose children leave to have a future. I am one of those children.
I am from a window at the apartment at the third floor of an orange building. Eyes on the sun of every morning, the trees dancing for me and a volcano keeping me company. Nights of tropical breeze.
I am from where death is only a river that takes you to the other side.
I am from scars. Scars are a process of healing. A reminder of the journey from worse to better.
Scar over scar, my body is a reminder.
Green casts, nails and non-absorbable sutures. Hospital lights and smells. Nurses in white.
I'm from here. Remembering every smell, every step, every pharmacy, from counting minutes waiting on a doctor that took too long to visit with another kid.
I am from smiles and laughter.
I am from a box of watercolors and a piece of white paper, moments away from becoming a masterpiece.
I am from covering my face with color paint and making other kids laugh. Clowning came so natural.
The fire of hope coming true to me. No religion can ever top that fire.
I am from giving. I am from leaving. I am from looking. I am from staying true.
I am from a journey that has just started.
Jan-6-08
Just start
I'm a mess and I have trouble starting things. Not finishing them, no, I finish everything I start, but starting... why is it so hard for me?! :(
Thursday, January 03, 2008
A cold... coughing my brains out
I've been sick since last year. And I guess the trip to Dallas to see my brother didn't do any good to my health, but it was so worth it. I loved spending time with Juank and I was so happy to get to meet the family he lives with. They're pretty amazing.
Here are some pictures.
Here are some pictures.
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