dreams.

Oh my god, I can almost see it. Can you?
Close my eyes and.. there it is.
A house full of light. The sound of children laughing.
A home made piece by piece. A life.. together.

Let it rest for a little while.
It's just a dream.
And today's well worth to be lived.

So keep it stored as a beautiful wish until the time comes.

a veces siento que me callo tantas cosas.

constantemente y a sabiendas relegando y pretendiendo olvidar tantas cosas.

lo personal tiene una importancia tan sobrecogedora que pasa por encima.

pero no lo olvido. solo lo callo.

.

es cuestión de quien quieras ser. pero no solo.

es cuestión de quien sos intrínsecamente, de ahí las posibilidades.

yo sé y conozco mis posibilidades, y muy a mi pesar las desaprovecho.

excusas hay muchas y ninguna me satisface, porque no quiero una excusa.

.

la inmovilidad y la inercia, que son cosas distintas

en lo personal, no lo apruebo pero lo perdono.

pero en lo otro no. ni siquiera lo acepto.

y no sé no me alcanza, pero además de excusa (que no me excusa), es verdad.

.

puedo decir y aceptar que soy una mala persona.

pero no quiero ser esa persona. me niego a ser esa persona.

no soy esa persona.

a thousand sweet kisses.

prueba para el laburo.. pero quedó tan linda!

hoy.. es un día muy raro.

tal vez tenga que ver con el no dormir.

pero hoy, no estoy.

archive, agenda, dear diary

so many words, so many fights

me es dificil ubicarme en el tiempo presente.

acaso no acavo de dejar a fede?

no estoy indignada por alguna cosa que hizo san?

aquí estoy descubriendo con horror que me enamoré de mi mejor amiga.

pequeñas historias e histerias de la (mi) vida cotidiana.

cómo, cuándo, dónde?

paso 8 horas al día en este pseudo sótano y no es quien soy.

volver, volver a este presente del que parezco tan desatachada.

volver, volver y descanzar.

fairy-godmother says.

Not very often, happens that a bad girl lets a good boy in. Now if the boy does his homework, and if she lets him, she may fall for him. And that's when something amazing happens: the bad girl lets down her defenses, opens up and smiles. It's almost mystical, the desire of redemption and the unstoppable need to make the good boy happy.
So the vinegar turns to honey, and a new housewife-wannabe is born.
Sweet little details bloom in every day life, smiling faces on the calendar, maybe flowers on the dinner table. If she can cook, the house will be filled with the smell of home-made cookies or cupcakes. If she can sign, delicious melodies will fly out of her lips. If she goes out, her feet will dance at every corner.
Her smile will be bewitching. Her eyes will always shine. And she'll relive every perfect moment with him in her mind.
She will no longer want to always wear black. And will be thinking of new ways to make him smile.
Oh, she'll be such a good girl for a little while.

a july morning.

Little girl walking down the street. A green lollipop on her dreamy smile. Turns to look around, stops at a random point and stares with big green eyes. The birds on the trees, the boys going home.
She lies on a street bench facing the sun. She smiles at the leaves and the wind and the sun.

My oh my, would you just look at that girl.

She has been wished good night. And so, she feels she has company enjoying the midday cold.

And in the most platonic of ways, in saying good night, she feels his presence goes with her to sleep.

a love song.

call me crazy, but it is the sweetest love song i've ever heard.

because what else can it be, than a love song?

in it, his eyes, his smile, his voice, his hands.

telling me.. beautiful.

i want to let it go. i have to let it be.

but how can i resist a love song?

such a beautiful love song.

i should let it go. let it be.

but i have been swept off my feet by a love song.

a secret.

a fading memory

a walk outside

a stolen moment

a shine on the eye

a hand on my back

a feel of his lips against mine

a word of regret

a world of guilt

a link too strong to resist

a closeness so long denied

the looks, the eyes. a cricked smile. the touch of his hand.

this feeling i can't get out of my mind.

the act, the hiding. and anyone knows.

so, so many levels of wrong.

don't speak. don't breath. don't move. just hide.

(part of me wants to shout out loud)

don't do absolutely anything about it. we just can't.

me cuesta.

Saludar, sonreír, cómo estás.

Caminar, qué mirás.

Hace frío y me hace sentir mal.

No explotar.

Responder, no putear.

Traducir, filtrar.

Recordar que no se suele entender lo que digo sin pensar.

Pensar que piensan mal.

Molestar, preocupar si no me fijo.

Verborragia y la idea de que si me molesta te digo.

Y si estoy ebria y te digo no va a ser lo mismo.

Camuflar la violencia. Caretear no me gusta.

Ofender no es lo que busco pero qué.

Cuándo vale y cuándo no vale la pena.

Llamar. O llamar la atención. No hace falta nada.

A mi nadie me trata. A mi no.

Y ojito.

La indulgencia y la auto-indulgencia.

Yo espero no ser así.

Te lo perdono o te lo prohibo.

Dejar pasar por qué.

Quién sos para excusar.

Juzgar o aconsejar.

Quién soy para.

Poder o nada.

Lo único me voy a la mierda.

Tolerar por qué. Aprender.

Me cuesta.

No me gusta lo que no me gusta.

Límites y flexibilidades.

Lastimar.

Fuerza o debilidad.

Voluntad.

Dualidad y oposición.

La Psique que es debil.

Y la Voluntad que es fuerte y limitada.

Que se agota en sostener a la Psique que es debil.

O casi o depende del día.

Los puntos no me cansan me dan fuerza.

Me enseñaron que hacen menos dificil que se entienda.

Hoy la Psique está aislada y yo no puedo sonreir sin mentira.

Hoy no quiere explotar hoy quiere quedarse dormida.

La gente le sonríe y camina y quiere que se vayan.

Hoy la Voluntad está en mover los deditos y producir algunos sonidos, pocos.

La Psique se siente un poco hinchada y bastante callada.

Si le hablan mucho o algo muy dificil se maréa y se pone nerviosa.

La Voluntad la tiene que calmar y que callar.

Y a la Voluntad no le alcanzan las monedas y más vale que vaya buscando porque.

oh, the guilt. and chaos.

I used to brag about my inability to feel guilty. Man, those were the days.

I feel it growing in me, dark and twisted. I can feel it spreading.

It messes with my head, it makes me act stupid. Stupider.

I can't even look at him. Hug him.

I jump every time he kisses me.

And it's not like I'm doing anything wrong. Really.

But he's being so very good to me. So, so good.

It's just chaotic. And, let's face it, slutty.

But it sort off makes me happy. Momentarily, but really happy.

A hug, a kiss, a touch, a smile. A smart comment. A nice thought.

And there's something about both of them. I just fall.

And then there's the more extended chaos.

The dreaming. Oh, the dreaming.

escena conyugal.

- Les voy a decir que cuando ellos se estaban tomando el bondi para ir al laburo, yo estaba teniendo sexo.
Me reí mientras lo miraba irse a bañar. Le preparé dos sandwiches de salame y queso, y se fue.
Yo encontré mi remera, me la puse y estuve toda empillamada. Era tan cómoda. Me acosté en su cama de dos plazas ahora toda para mi.
Todo era perfecto, excepto por el dolor de panza y la culpa.

yooh hoo.

What is it that keeps me from bursting out? From totally loosing it?

Is it fear? 'Cause I think it's fear. And I don't like that idea.

I mean I want to be this grown up person, I want to make sense.

But I'm so totally overwhelmingly bored out of my mind, I just don't know what to do.

Because I know I can't rely on people. Some of them can be fun sometimes,

some-times. But not often and certainly not when I need it.

I somewhat choose people who are going to bail on me, not because they don't care

but because they won't even notice they're doing something wrong.

I choose the disappearing kind. God knows why.

So I am left with.. me. And this me doesn't amuse me.

I need change. I need new. I need shiny, loud and hallucinogenic.

Beware, the beast is back and I'm in no mood to tame it.

§

I'm lonely. I'm sad. I don't like it.
I want more. I want more. I want more.
I miss feeling loved. I miss feeling good.
I want more. I want more. I want more.

casual.

Note to my dear and darling friends: Sex post. I don't quite know what i'm going to write, but I get the feeling you won't be completely comfortable with it. Just saying.

We are sexual beings. It's a basic need, not 'cause we're gonna die if we don't have sex, but because it is something our bodies ask us. A biological need. But since we don't actually die, we can choose. People choose not to have sex all the time, for whatever reasons. But more importantly, we can choose to have sex.
Well I think that's just great.
And I, I consider myself a very sexual being. I like it, I enjoy it, I think about it, and I like thinking about it.
In the daily life there isn't really much place for it. That's why I was so glad when I finally remember this blog's name. This girl decided to write a sex blog, telling her way of living somewhat dangerously. It's not only sex, thou, and it's also well and funny written. So it turned up to be a very enjoyable reading, and I found myself relating myself to many of the things she said (you know, apart from the obvious age and geography difference).
So it got me thinking about casual sex. Now I know it's good and mostly harmless, but does it get in the way of finding a serious relationship? Maybe, if you want that relationship to be with your sex partner, or already had a relationship with him.. but then again, I find that the most casual sex happens with a person a know and love a lot, but with whom I don't want a serious relationship (or any kind for that matter). When it's someone I barely know, there are all this expectations and nervousness and wanting to do good. I might see a potential lover in him, but what if a also see something else? I wouldn't act the same way if I'm trying to build up a relationship that if I'm trying to get in his pants. Although that seems to be the question of the week.
On the other hand, with someone "I've known forever", I can easily make it just about sex. I mean, he will probably break my heart over lunch, but I'm not thinking about that when i'm riding him. I'm not sad, or mad, or in love, or wish to make him happy. If something, I wanna make him cum.
Anyway, I don't think I really had a conclusion for this one, other than I like this explicit way of writing.
(well, writing, mumbulling, letting the cat walk over the keyboard, whatever)

Melancolía

Anoche me descubrí
a mi misma pensando en ti
y descubrí dentro de mi
cierto antojo, melancolía
de aquella dulce alegría
disimulada vergüenza
interminable inocencia
que parece tan pasada
que recuerdo tan cercana
pero sé que ya se fue.
Y no creas que lo quiero
que lo extraño, que lo anhelo,
soy feliz como ninguna
todo lo que siempre quise
¿acaso no me es suficiente?
¿Algo acaso es suficiente?
No lo sé, no lo sabré
¿Acaso importa realmente?
Esa hermosa, rota inocencia
ya no volverá jamás.
Queda esa melancolía
esa dulce melodía
que tampoco ya se irá.

Escrito el 5 de mayo de 2005, probablemente en el Colegio Nacional de Buenos Aires, por mi.
Tenía 14 años, estaba enamorada, tenía dudas, preguntas que no me entraban en ese ser diminuto. Me parece maravilloso, me parece maravilloso haberlo escrito a los 14 años y plasmado lo que sentía, sabiendo que algun día iba a releerlo y recordar, con tanto cariño, a esa niña. Me resulta muy curioso que en ese momento, enamorada como estaba, me sintiera ya tan desgastada. Tan arruinada. La inocencia rota, que no vuelve, cuando era aun inocente. Más que ahora, por lo menos. Supongo que venía del conflicto de amar a mi novio pero querer a Ale. No me conocía a mi misma, y no tenía ningun tipo de idea de como estar en una relación. O de como afrontar un problema.
Vuelvo a preguntarme si esa niña viera en lo que se convirtió, si siquera lo creería.
Si esa niña supiera que aún lo extraño.

smiling in the morning.

it's fun to feel young. younger. it makes it interesting.
there's something hot to it. or maybe it's just me.
and soft is good. it's gooood.
and new but strangely familiar. and comfortable. and happy.
and "i know what i'm doing" confident is good. it's gooood.

and the coffee's great.

it's a little bit funny

it feels funny. like.. the opposite of that mind blowing emptiness.
like i'm.. filled. but i don't know with what.
i know what's changed. actually, a couple of things have changed.
but is it really just that? that simple?
that was the answer all this time? you know, it's not enough.
but it's a good starting point, this one i'm in.
it's all looking very bright and shiny ahead. not a lot of black clouds to fuck things up.
although, that is kinda my thing. but that's not really a problem.
very funny.

overall, i'm just.. way better.
great, actually.

dreaming.

i once said i hated to have nice dreams.
but it's not the dream i hate. it's the waking up.
it feels like i can almost touch him, he's just right there on the edge of my subconscient.
but i can't. and i close my eyes again and wish to keep dreaming, but i'm wide awake
and awake i know it's just a dream. i'm not ever going to touch him, or be talking to him like that.
but it just feels so real.

i.. really need a hug.
human contact. a man's arms around my waist and a man's chest to hide my head in.
but a new man. really, a new man.

my new theory

i have a new theory. you know how they say the first love always sticks with you?
well, i've got some experience in that particular field, and i've come to think this:
that first love sticks with you because it was great. at least in my case it was.
and because it was a relationship that just worked, it was easy to connect, we wanted the same things.
i can't remember any other time a relationship worked that good for over two weeks, and i'm being merciful.
so it's only natural to miss that, and to believe that somehow that will happen again.

but, what if it would happen again? if we got that second chance we somehow dream about?
would that connection still be there? would it all be easy and great?
i say no. no way! why? because now, we have all kinds of scars. we have messy exes,
and responsibilities. we have mistakes we are afraid to repeat,
we're scared to death of commitment, we don't wanna get hurt again.
we would put all the weight of the failed relationships into the one that's supposedto be perfect, and screw it up.

which takes me to my conclusion: the reason that first love worked so perfectly, was our inexperience.
off course we made mistakes, but nothing was quite so tragic. there was no ghost haunting us,
no past to compare. we were fresh, and willing to give our best just because we were in love.

those two kids grew up to be two fucked up almost-grown ups,
resented, scared, shouting at their couples on the street, drinking to scape problems,
and screwing up.

not that knowing all this stuff is gonna make me stop missing... that.

the interactive part of my relationship with myself.

i have a thing for rain.
it's kind off a love-hate relationship, like everything that's worth anything.
but it makes me feel safe. it's like a really good hug.
it also reminds me of about a million things, all together.
you know, like my house or this city. or a good song.
i guess that's why i find it so romantic.
and i'm not usually a fan of romance, but this is the good kind.
like remembering how someone takes their coffee, not like a pink teddy bear.
only when you're not in love, romantic turns to either nostalgic or bitter.
there's the hate part of our relationship. that and the fact that it wets.

but it's one of those stuff that are mine. like my house, or this city.
it's like the interactive part of my relationship with myself. or something.

(yes, i'm overusing the blog. i think it's a good thing.)