It is clear that when you think you're having the time of your life and everything seems perfect, something else is horribly wrong. I just want to have a beer on a Sunday afternoon without having to worry because tomorrow is fucking Monday. 

Oh well, today is Sunday. I had a few beers earlier with my mates. And tomorrow IS fucking Monday. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

A very good friend of mine once said:

"Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free"

(That was Jim Morrison by the way)

Tuesday 13th

I'm not an overall supersticious person, but yesterday being Tuesday 13th I thought something bad might happen. It did, of course. I woke up quite anxious because of these awful oral tests they put us through at school. An English language oral test is where they, the professors, give you two random topics and you choose one. You then have to speak about it for about five minutes. It's shit, but it's -they think- the only way to figure out if we are actually improving our English skills or if are just speaking Chilean English (?). I hate it because I get so nervous and can't get my ideas straight because I'm in a room sitting in front of three people who might or not like me. Yes, sometimes I get quite annoying during classes or just simply don't show up when I have to. Karma is a bitch uh. Anyway, I did my normal morning routine; get up at 8, have a quick shower, get dressed while watching some random morning show to check the weather, get my make up done (just my lashes, really) plug in the headphones on the iPod, and off we go. No breakfast, bad habit. Of course I'm always late to school because the bus just won't come. I hate public transportation, but the tube is worse so I'm just happy I can take the bus and sit and listen to my favourite tune while looking outside the window for one hour and a half. But yesterday I was particularly nervous because of this shitty oral test so my trip was slow and weird. I wanted to check my notes, but I just can't when I'm listening to music, and of course I rather listening to music than reading while on the bus, so nothing academic ever happens. 

I got to school at 10:30 and went to my Written Discourse class. I love my professor, but hate the class by now. It's November, school is over in a month and I just want to sleep all day long. Class ended at 12 and then we had two and a half hours to kill before the test. Great. We went to these huge sofas in one of the faculty halls and sat there. My mates were all discussing shit related to the test and I just felt like dying. Watched some videos on the iPod, played some games on the phone, and got some weird texts, but never told anyone about that. Soon it was 2 pm. Didn't feel like having lunch, I never do anyway. Got my stuff and went to the classroom where the test would take place. The professors were already there and I just felt like getting it over with. Waited for my turn and then went in and picked two random topics. I then chose 'Same sex marriage', the other one was something related to politics and pfft, boring. So I wandered for about five minutes thinking about what to say, and then just threw up a huge speech on gay rights and the human need to love and blablabla. It's amazing how I can speak a lot of shit and people won't even notice it's shit. My professors looked really amazed and I thought I was doing a good job, so then it was time to joke a bit, though it was a formal instance. I'm always joking, so I had to. I said something about people having the right to marry whoever they want to, because how come there are governments that allow people marrying things instead of people? I've heard of people marrying a pillow, or a rollercoster or, of course, their pet (of course, how normal). They cracked up and so my job there was done. I hope I get a goot mark. Went outside to get my stuff as my mates were asking me about the test. I think I did alright, so just giggled and smiled. Had my headphones on and looked for my iPod... not there. What the hell. Looked inside my bag, on my pockets, on the floor, everywhere. Wasn't there. Went to the hall and looked for it on the sofa where I was sitting on previously. Wasn't there, but I was pretty sure I left it there because I was thinking of the stupid test instead of focusing where I put my shit. Shit shit shit. 

And so that's how I lost my iPod. To me that's like the worst thing ever. When I went to the US last summer and worked there the iPod was the first thing I bought with the bucks from my first paycheck. I bought it before the camera, before CDs, before the flight to New York (not before booze though), so it really hurts that it was wasted money. Besides, I had tons of pictures and videos and private stuff that no one is supposed to see. Ever. I'm sure the person who has it now must be really amused by all my selfportraits and private messages. Bollocks. I save all of my music on my laptop so that's not a problem, but I'm still bummed. I always loose things. Every time. Phones, IDs, jackets, and now iPods. Geez. One of these days I might aswell loose my own head and I won't even notice it. So my trip back home was horrid; thank God I had just bought a new phone, pretty modern, better than an iPod I think. But I had no music in it, just all four Kasabian albums and some random Pink Floyd songs. So that's what I listened to on the way home. I'm a music freak so the iPod was an important investment. I'll try to get another one in a few months, but for now I'll have to settle with the phone. 

A friend invited me to get a beer after the test, he had just arrived from London and had tons of stories to tell (and presents, I hope) but I was just not in the mood, which is weird because I'm always in the mood to drink. Guess we all have our days. 

I now should have to be writing this incredibly boring essay on Robinson Crusoe and the English novel, but I much rather write on this blog which no one reads anyway. Now that's interesting.

#7

Ever felt like doing something wrong on purpose? I'm one text away of screwing things up big time and sincerely I couldn't care less. Not today. Cause I've always done things like they say I should, or how it's supposed to be, but I'm done now. I'm 23 and I feel like, though I've travelled abroad and I've seen things and done things that I could never ever confess, I still haven't lived enough. What if I make a mistake, big deal, you all make mistakes and no one says it's right or wrong because they are all busy living their lives. They act as they care about you, but they don't, deep in their hearts they're only going to be nice to you if that action is positive to them aswell. How sad is that. I hate my generation, it's so... empty. I've always felt like I belong to a different time, like I was born 35 years ago. I've got an old soul, I'm not impressed by easy stuff and stupid things certainly don't amuse me. Don't get me wrong, I am a happy person, I'm always laughing and people, when they first meet me, always say that they don't think I take things seriously enough. But I do, of course I do. It's just that sometimes I am so bitter because of life that I just rather laugh about it. It's weird cause I am in love with life, or better said, I am in love with the fact of being alive and embracing my freedom and being able to make plans and fighting to achieve my goals. The thing is I hate the feeling that I'm always at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe that is why I get along with older people. My best friends are all in their thirties, I find it awesome to see life through their eyes. I wish I was old enough to know better. But no, I'm still a kid. And sometimes I love it and take full advantage of it, but not today. Or maybe yes, cause making a mistake on purpose is what young people do, right? Is that was youth is all about?

Spring #2

How about going to a park downtown and lay under the biggest tree we can find, and read Crime and Punishment and have a strawberry ice cream and take a nap and walk barefoot on the green, wet grass? How about dresses and shorts and skirts and summer? How about planning a trip? New York? London? 

###

Oh, can it be?

The voices calling me,

they get lost and out of time.

I should have seen it glow,

but everybody knows

that a broken heart is blind...

Better off

La intuición femenina es cuática. Uno trata de ignorarla y seguir la vida, pero siempre está ahí. Está cuando te despiertas con el corazón apretado, cuando revisas el teléfono cada cinco minutos y no hay nada nuevo, cuando esperas un llamado que no llega, cuando pides consejos y todos te dicen "no te pasís rollos", etc. Queda claro que soy la experta en pasarse películas sin necesidad. Me angustio y me echo a morir. Pero claro que tengo mis razones. Porque, de nuevo, la intuición femenina nunca falla. Qué saco con engañarme si todos sabemos lo que pasa. Algo en nuestras mente hace que siempre tengamos un plan B, una excusa que justifique el actuar del resto cosa de no salir lastimados. Pero eso nunca sucede. Uno siempre sale lastimado, y siempre pasa cuando menos lo necesita. Yo no necesitaba ésto. Yo estaba bien, con planes, haciendo lo que tenía que hacer. Pero cambié mis planes, cambie mis estrategias, ELEGÍ entre dos y me quedé sin pan ni pedazo. La intuición femenina es cuática, y también es cuático como en cinco días cambió todo. No sé en qué estoy, pero, por lo pronto, planeo estar bien.

Hoy.

Hoy desperté distinta. Con una sonrisa fresca. Con ganas de arriesgarme. Y con miedo también. Hay mucho en juego y es cierto que da un poco de susto. Hace mucho tiempo no me sentía así, y es increíble, estremece, me divierte, me hace sentir viva. También me pongo idiota e impulsiva. Tonta y consentida. 

¿Qué va a pasar? Nadie lo sabe. 

Bien es sabido que el que no se arriesga, no cruza el río. Hoy estoy a mitad de camino, y estoy que me ahogo.

##

DEAL WITH IT.

I once had a boy...

I've had lots of boys in my life. I've had boyfriends, I've had friends with benefits and, of course, I've had friends who happen to be boys. I met a guy who thought he was Liam Gallagher. Later, I met another one who thought he was the reincarnation of Jim Morrison. I've dated hippies and football players, but, most of all, I've dated musicians. And it was not on purpose; I just dated the guy and two months later I would find out that he played the guitar. All of them did. Geez.

I've dated lots of boys in my life, but only one of them still remains. I don't know why. I really don't. He was very average: kinda cute, smart, musician (duh), fantastic party kid and endless life partner. He was an amazing boyfriend but, above all, he was an incredible friend. You know the friend who is always laughing at your boring jokes? Or the one who is not afraid of being funny in front of your family? Yep, that was him. He was the kind of guy that would listen to everything you had to say before even speaking; how was your day, how's your mom, did you get a good mark on your test?, do you wanna go for a beer?, feel like napping?. He was the closest thing to perfection, and I remember that scared me so much at first. 

I had had back luck in terms of love before I met him. My first boyfriend was alright, but I was only 18, and he was way too old for me. Like 9 years older. Then I met a lad who was alright, but he was more like a friend than a boyfriend. Then I met another guy who was so jealous that it was unbearable. Oh and he cheated on me, of course. In my own house. With his best friend's girlfriend. Funny story.

And well, the day I met THIS guy, I was totally heartbroken. But he lifted me up so fast and so incredibly good that it felt just awesome. He was a true gentleman, yet not boring. We were very much alike, yet so different. We partied a lot, slept a lot, shared a lot of friends, had long conversations about books and literature and boring stuff from school. He opened the doors of his very own home, and I just felt in love with his family. And maybe that was mistake number one. Because there's only two individuals in a relationship. And I reckon I got really jealous because he was so sociable and had a really coined family spirit that I didn't have, so I only wanted to spend time with him, and never actually realized that he had a life, and that I needed one too. Sometimes I think that he never loved me, or that he was just trying to make it work without telling me. It was just me in the relationship, and it sucks to know that by now.

D'you know that feeling when you are really in love and the other person, who is supposed to be in love with you as well, wakes up one day and tells you 'I want to be alone'? D'you know that feeling? Well I do, and it sucks. Maybe that's why I can't let it go. And also because I see him at least two or three times a week, and I get so scared and sad and angry that I just want to hit him in the face and scream and ask him why did he do this to me and cry and run away. I cannot believe that, after two years, I still feel so angry towards him. He was SO good to me, he doesn't deserve being hated. He was such a good person, and I'm confident he still is, it's just that I don't really know anymore. We're not friends, he kicked me out of his life for good. And it scares me to think that one day he's not going to be there for me anymore. I mean, I'm not going to see him anymore, even if we don't ever talk. Dammit.

I once had a boy. He was the most amazing man I've ever met. But he faded away, and now I just beg God that someday I would meet another one maybe as good as him. Though I doubt there's anyone as good as you out there. You motherfucker. EEEEEEEEEK.

#

I watched thee when the foe was at our side - Ready to strike at him, -or thee and me- Were safety hopeless -rather than divide Aught with one loved -save love and liberty.
I watched thee in the breakers -when the rock Received our prow -and all was storm and fear And bade thee cling to me through every shock - This arm would be thy bark - or breast thy bier.
I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes - Yielding my couch - and stretched me on the ground - When overworn with watching - ne'er to rise From thence - if thou an early grave hadst found.
The Earthquake came and rocked the quivering wall - And men and Nature reeled as if with wine - Whom did I seek around the tottering Hall - For thee - whose safety first provide for - thine.
And when convulsive throes denied my breath The faintest utterance to my fading thought - To thee -to thee - even in the grasp of death My spirit turned - Ah! oftener than it ought.
Thus much and more - and yet thou lov'st me not, And never wilt - Love dwells not in our will - Nor can I blame thee - though it be my lot To strongly - wrongly -vainly - love thee still.

Countdown #1 Vol 2

You cannot rely on odd suppositions, can you? It is now the seventh day of the seventh month of the year, and I am about to enter this amazing, yet frightening adverture. Again. Life is scary. Life is too short. Take risks. REAL risks. It is the only way out.

For No One (if your name is No One)

Sin anhelarlo, o más bien, queriéndolo desde el fondo de mis entrañas, vuelvo siempre a aquella noche de Febrero. El día se veía inconcluso y el destino me ayudaba a cruzarme en tu camino (el destino y sus ángeles, claro está). Planeé un discurso casual lleno de inventos banales fuera del alcance de mi lenguaje, y los practiqué frente a mi espejo por horas. Me arriesgué como nunca y perdí como en la guerra. El teléfono no sonaba y mi maquillaje se desmoronaba por mis derrotadas mejillas. A punto de exhalar ya mi último aliento y posar los  pensamientos en la blanda cobija que albergaba noche a noche mis penumbras, escucho el ring que me detuvo el corazón por un segundo. Qué podía salir mal. Corrí por las escaleras, sonando la madera bajo mis pies prontos a cubrirse de nieve y escarcha. La emoción tal vez, qué sé yo, hizo que saliera disparada sin sentir los intensos grados bajo cero que me golpearon al segundo después. 

Llegué no sé dónde, pero llegué. Me esperaban dos sonrisas, pero ninguna te pertenecía. Impaciente disqué tu nombre e imploré tu rostro, que sin dudarlo apareció tras mis pasos. Aquellas dos sonrisas sabían lo que hacían, y como por arte de magia desaparecieron para dejarnos en el sin fin de esa calle eterna y congelada. Las cervezas no tardaron, y el cigarro de tu boca se impregnó en la mía como si fuera la primera vez. Se mezclaron nuestros lenguajes y concluimos hablando en Inglés, en Español, en Español de México, en Inglés borracho. No sé bien como pasó, pero pasó. Muchas caras familiares aparecieron y sin notarlo aparecimos en el escenario bailando al ritmo de Foster The People. Tu cara denotó felicidad, quién sabe lo que podías leer en la mía. Seguramente fue lo mismo multiplicado por el infinito azul de tus ojos. Se agotaron las cervezas, y también el tiempo. Corrimos a la parada del autobús, pero no, nadie se movía. Los pies cambiaron su rumbo y el motor de tu auto nos llevó lejos, a otra ciudad, que en ese momento se sintió como otro mundo. 

2 de la madrugada. La autopista despejada sin un copo de nieve aparecía imponente ante nosotros, siendo la música y la ceniza las protagonistas del viaje. Luces rojas nos detuvieron, y el sonido del motor no sonó más. Me abriste la puerta como quién abre las puertas de su vida, y luego todo fue paz. El azul de tus ojos mezclado con el sudor de tu frente. Las risas cómplices y el lenguaje del amor (¿Amor? Bueno) que sobrepasa fronteras. Porque ni el Latino más ferviente ni el Norteamericano más patriota podría entender lo que sucedía en ese momento. Fue eterno, impagable. Dime, ¿De verdad pasó? Intercambiamos cultura, conocimiento, carcajadas, miradas. Me dijiste lo que siempre esperé oír, pero yo no dije nada. Abrí mi boca para dejar volar esos pájaros temerosos en busca de aventuras. Pobres, dichosos, sólo alcanzaron el espacio que tu boca les brindó. Un singular cabello rubio se mezclaba con el castaño, y te oí implorar a Dios muchas veces. Muchas. No pensé, claro está. ¿Para qué? ¿Acaso tú pensaste? Los segundos, los minutos, las horas. El tiempo voló y había que volver a la vida real. Pero tu abrazo firme y el sentir de tus costillas atrapan a cualquiera. No necesitaste discurso. Ya no hablábamos tu idioma, ni el mío. Observamos el cielo por horas, cielo pintado de blanco y café que cubría nuestras cabezas pensantes. Creamos una historia, un comienzo. Los días pasaron y vi en tu rostro lo que vi en el mío años antes. Día a día construimos una sonrisa que se hacía más intensa con cada espera, con cada viaje. Tus lágrimas en la punta de mis dedos, tus palabras en el nudo de mi garganta. Lo siento como si estuviese sucediendo en este instante. Apareciste en un segundo y no te fuiste jamás. 

Qué son diez, veinte días. Qué es el tiempo cuando hay toda una vida por delante. El futuro y el destino lo construyes tú, lo construyo yo. Quisiera leer tu mente y dibujar con ella los días que se aproximan. Quisiera que el corazón tuviera la potencia de veinte aviones y que el tiempo fuera efectivamente relativo. El querer no es poder, tomemos riesgos. Tu estás a seis horas del cielo, yo estoy a nueve mil kilómetros. Procura cuidar esos rizos multicolor, esos ojos de profundo verdeazul, ese porte de montaña, esa piel poco expuesta, esa boca llena de experiencia y ese estilo de vida que sólo te viene a ti. Cruza los dedos. 

God works in misterious ways

If there is a God, he sure loves me. 

Today is a good day. Weird, cause it shouldn't be, let's see; this week it's been HELL. School is worse than ever. I don't think I can handle another handout about sentence analysis with its stupid grammatical meanings and its stupid exceptions. I also hate doing stupid research and learning stupid semantic features and practicing my English by talking about a stupid article about stupid surveillance technology. 

But, in spite of that, I find myself in a -rather strange- good mood. Life's amazing, you know? I get up, turn my iPod on and walk to the bus stop in a somewhat divine state of mind. I'm always thinking about the near future, but I enjoy the present every time. I love my family. I love spending time with them and cooking for them and just BEING with them. I'm aware of the fact that I won't be around soon, so I might as well just be here for them.

I don't consider myself a tender person, and it's even weirder for me to read what I just wrote, but I can't complain. The only thing is that I feel a bit rusty and heart-broken, but it's going to be alright. It's always alright.

Countdown #5

I wish I could express myself in Spanish, but it seems that English is my only way out. God I need to do something with my life, and I mean something BIG, like telling you to fuck yourself, or pick up a book and actually learn something from it. Let's see.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Qué mierda tengo en la cabeza.

What the hell is wrong with me.

Qué es mi vida?

untitled #3

I'm taking my time, going slowly, everything is cool, I'm relaxed, just chillin'. But no, not really, my mind just won't stop thinking about the same thing over and over again. 

When I first got back here I had to deal with a lot of weird stuff that was going on in my life before I left and while I was abroad, like not having very good friends, o my super interesting, yet not very interested (ex)boyfriend. Days went by and I felt like I had no control over my life. BUT (there's always a but, and you gotta love it when it's a good 'but'), now everything's back on track; I'm doing my homework so I can finish school soon, I'm saving my money so I can go back to the US next December, and I'm saying what I feel so I don't regret it later. 

Oh, and I'm also trying to make it work. I really, really want this to work.

Los mejores años de tu vida.

Por ahí viajando en la micro o caminando sin rumbo me pregunto cómo es la vida del estudiante universitario (en mi contexto, claro). Llevo cuatro años en la Universidad y me cuesta encontrar momentos donde un profesor de verdad nos haya dado un discurso sobre como prepararse para la vida después de los libros. Si, te hacen un profesional, pero eso no significa que aplicaré esos conocimientos a mi vida diaria. Es muy poco posible que utilice los fonemas del inglés cuando un taxi no me quiera parar, o que cite a Chaucer cuando vaya a una entrevista laboral y me digan "Gracias por venir, te llamaremos". Ciertamente es que pocas veces me preocupo del futuro cuando voy a la facultad. Lo primero que hago cuando llego es buscar a mis amigos, conversar, tirar bromas, relajarse, y en el fondo del corazón esperar que el profesor se atrase, o que simplemente no llegue. De ahí dormir en clases o tomar apuntes hasta la hora de almuerzo, que o bien sirve para almorzar efectivamente, o para leer apurado lo que no leíste para la siguiente clase. Ya a la tarde lo único que quieres es largarte. Es idiota de parte de un profesor pensar que uno va a escucharlo hablar cuando son las seis de la tarde y en lo único que piensas es en el tráfico de vuelta a casa, en comer, y en dormir. Y así al día siguiente. La vida del estudiante es muy cíclica y rutinaria. Lo único que va cambiando es la materia a estudiar, o el tema del próximo ensayo literario. Pero depende de uno hacerlo más ameno; mentalizarse todos los viernes para compartir una cerveza después de clases, planear fiestas para los cumpleaños próximos, hablar del compañero nuevo (si está bueno o si es un nerd), etc. Bien dicen que en la universidad vives los mejores años de tu vida, y que conoces a tus verdaderos amigos, los que estarán contigo para siempre. Quien sea que haya dicho eso, yo le creo.

Life changed. People changed. I changed.

I came back home from the United States a week ago. Everything seems strange here, and somehow boring. Nothing surprises me now; I get up early, take the bus, go to school, ignore my professors, spend some time with my friends, have a beer or two, take the bus back and then read or sleep. Why does everything seem so empty now? I used to believe that I had a life before. I was free. No one would tell me what to do. I would get up, go to work, have fun with my friends, speak English all day long (which I loved), and then go back home and drink something  there or at some random bar. Life seemed perfect. My friends were perfect. Going out in the snow was perfect. Now it feels like there's nothing here for me anymore. I need to finish school and leave. For good. Chile is ok, but I can't see myself living here for much longer. I had so much back in the States: fun, love, friends, a life. Why shouldn't I go back there? I want to. And I am going to. I have to. Soon. I left my heart there, it's not with me anymore. I feel numb, and days go by SO slow. I just seat here waiting for an answer that I'm only going to get when I get back there. I'm sorry that things changed. I'm sorry that I changed, but there's nothing I can do. I like who I am now though. I feel a better person. As long as I don't screw up I'm perfectly okay. I just don't fit in here anymore.

A punto de tirar la esponja y empezar a hacer lo que debí/quise hacer desde que llegué a este lugar. Park City tiene mucho que ofrecer: parranda, alcohol, drogas, irresponsabilidad y buena onda. También hay trabajo, digo, dependemos del dinero, obvio, pero bah, basta de malas caras. La hermandad entre Chilenos, Peruanos, Argentinos, Paraguayos y Gringos es tremenda, cresta que lo paso bien con todos. El Sundance Film Festival le da vida a este pueblo y da gusto caminar por Main Street entre cámaras, limusinas y estrellas del cine. También me arriesgué y durante 5 días trabajé hasta las 2 am para darle vida al evento más especial de la semana: Chefdance. Cada noche un chef distinto presentaba un exquisito menú próximo a ser digerido por autoridades, famosos y colados. Y uno, claro, trabajando, probando cocktails entre plato y plato y haciendo amistades en la barra para ganarse shots gratis, tremendo. Aparte hice más plata que nunca, masnáh. Ahora volvimos a la rutina de trabajar en el resort y caerse esquiando, pero pico, ahora se viene bueno. Desde hoy quedan oficialmente dos meses para volver a Chile, HAY QUE PURO DEJAR LA CAGÁ!

Parece que a más de 4 mil kilómetros de casa las cosas se ven más complicadas de lo que son. Que nada me resulte, por la cresta. Hoy fue un mal día.

You reap what you sow.

Tres de Enero.  Hace un año este día estuvo lleno de matices; verano sin clases, torta de cumpleaños, honestidad y (lo que parecía ser) alegría. Hoy todo parece TAN distinto: en Chile están en clases, la gente se olvida (o actúan como si tal) y yo estoy en otro país, pero siempre con la mente en Santiago y en un mail que -innecesariamente- necesito escribir. Se me agota el día y creo que finalmente terminaré diciendo lo que tengo en la punta de la lengua, de los dedos y del corazón. Por otro lado, es cosa de cortesía y educación. Uno no olvida, quizás tampoco perdona, pero intentemos ser buenas personas, total el tiempo pasa y las cosas mejoran, no? He tenido mucho tiempo para reflexionar entre el trabajo y las compras, entre paseos y conversaciones. También he tenido sueños reveladores que asustan, pero que, a la larga, no son más que sueños. Cresta que me tuve que venir lejos para pensar hueás.

La pega está tranquila esta semana. La próxima es el Sundance Festival, y luego el spring break de los gringos, así que ahí se pondrá bueno el asunto. Por ahora lo pasamos bien y gastamos plata para luego arrepentirnos.

PS: edito este texto para decir: mátate, no haré ni una hueá.