unicidades

2008 was a paradoxical year. It brought me a lot of pain and a lot of joy. I’ve met interesting and amazing people and not-so interesting and amazing people. I’ve done things that I’ve always wanted to do and things that I thought I could never do. I’ve written beautiful posts and I thought about a lot of things that I wanted to forget. I’ve accomplished some of my goals, but also understood that I have to review some of my other objectives. I’ve suffered a lot. At some point, I thought I had lost my mind. I have felt very intensely in 2008. I’ve felt tango for the first time and several weeks. I understood Shakespeare a little better. I saw the sunrise at the beach by myself. I started exercising more. I helped people achieve their dreams. I was interviewed for the History Channel. I was in the newspaper. I cooked for someone wearing a Chinese dress. I painted my place with the colors I wanted and I’ve gotten my red wall. I saw my best friend get her citizenship. I voted for the firs

No Se Manana - Rosana De algo estoy segura Hoy no siento lo mismo A veces dudo si mi corazón Te ha hecho caer en un oscuro abismo De algo estoy segura Ya no eres el fantasma Que me rondaba haciendo un callejón Cada segundo donde te pensaba No siento la llamada de tu piel Ya no termino con la piel en llamas No sé mañana, sé de hoy y Hoy no es amor, no es ternura No es odio, ni amargura Hoy he salido de ti, bordeando la locura Hoy no es pasión lo que siento No es pena, ni tormento Hoy he salido de ti y entre lágrimas vi romperse el firmamento De algo estoy segura No sabes lo que sientes Pero no quieres que me lleve el mar Por si me pierdes entre la corriente De algo estoy segura Lo nuestro está en tus sueños Y tienes miedo a hacerlos realidad Por si descubres que así no te quiero No siento ganas de luchar por ti Ya no me dejas a morir por dentro Te dejo la llamada de mi piel Mientras decides sí o no te dejo Y no te miento, sé que siento que Hoy no es amor, no es ternura...

I used to be the girl on the bridge, or so I thought. Now I am just a girl trying to get back on my feet. I run errands, clean and organize, work, have fun. I am an independent woman. I think I have built a fairly decent life for myself, but I am also the one who feels the turmoil of being and loving and caring and shaping and evolving. I am aging. I can feel it. My soul has always been an old soul, but the face is also showing some signs of aging as well. The eyes look sad, the body feels tired, the skin looks yellowish, and my back weighs me down sometimes. As I talk, I shrink. I am the girl who got lost in the supermarket once. I cried and refused to look at the face of the adolescent who held my hand and helped me find my mom. It was during a Christian Holiday, (Easter?) and the place was extremely crowded. I didn’t look at him because I was embarrassed and ashamed. I thought it had been my fault. How good I was at finding myself guilty (it must be the Catholic in me). And I can te

Fascinating. I do think I have a lot in common with akitas. I mean, a lot.

I just had a customer yelling at me. He always uses the same argument: I pay a lot of taxes for this service. FYI, I pay a lot of taxes for this service too. We’re on the same boat. I wonder: why are some men so pathetically direct/agressive and rude? Why don’t they take no for an answer? I hate to say "no" more than once. Arrogance is a big turn-off. On the other hand, trying to impress someone with cheap compliments is also very, very bad. Juan Carlos Caceres made me think about you. And I looked down trying to hide it. Then he asked: - What’s wrong? -Nothing. Everything was wrong. Tango Negro was one of our many candombes. I do have to remember, though, that it was just my perception. I wonder what Buddhists think about the idea of loving everyone. Is that so? We should really love every living human being? I’m Reading Necessary Losses and I slowly came to the realization that I didn’t lose you. I’ve never had you. It’s beautiful out. I am cold. I am going home in a short

Postales.

I woke up confused this morning. The radio was on. The neighbors were making noises. The wind was chatting with me. I was my usual self this morning: at 7:15am, all I wanted was to sleep for fifteen more minutes and then ten more. No, maybe I wanted to stay in bed for 20 more minutes, on top of those extra minutes. I was "listening" (as one can imagine, I was only half awake) to NPR and the words were, if I am not mistaken, rape and trust. That really caught my attention. I immediately started thinking about that expression and on what they were talking about it. I jumped in the shower, a bit sleepy and thinking about these words rape and trust. I could not help it, but associate that piece I had just listened to with some personal experiences. The damage one suffers when that happens is tremendously intense. If the episodes are a pattern, the damage is even more devastating. I even think that when it happens more than once, it is very difficult to trust again. I also think t

Keiko Bell Christmas Eve. Focusing on New Things and Feeling Them

Floating in a White Cloud

New Yellow Steps

da coisas que vivi vivi o medo a alegria o desespero vivi sonhos e derramei suspiros e alternativas criei Sofri transformei encontrei encantos e belezas Tudo numa nuvem mostarda

Autumns I Fall is around the corner. It's under my skin. It reveals itself around me. It makes me cry, slowly. Fall touches my hands, holds me in a very soft way. In many possible ways. My feet dance, my skirt is light and the breeze makes it move. Silky. I show some skin, I reveal my soul. My shoulders move and Fall. I am falling. I turn around, I walk, I'm dancing. It rains inside my room. Friends from far away visit me. I just keep dancing. Fall is musical. Count me in, I'm game. It's finally Autumn.

Maybe one day I will dance as beautifully as these people . BTW, I want all shoes by Comme Il Fault.

Plans.

Here's the scoop: broke, but happy. Merry Christmas.

I Melt With You by Jason Mraz. I am in love with this song.

The joy that isn't shared dies young. Anne Sexton.

Something is telling me that I am going to be inspired tonight. I got my camera ready to rock and roll. I learned how to set the ISO definition to high. Very cool.

The Geography of Bliss.

It was Thursday night. I told myself I should go out and try to have fun. I didn't really feel like going out by myself, but I am so used to it. Time has taught me that if I want to have fun or entertain myself, I should find no excuses. I love going out, I pondered. In my internal dialog, I also wanted to fight an imaginary demon. How to attend a milonga again? I thought that if worse came to worse, I could simply leave. I fought all the excuses possible. I became pensive. Then I decided to go no matter what. Just like that. Impulse?!?! Well...ok. Sort of. I was able to attend the last part of the class. I talked to the teacher and she was very nice. I've met a lot of people, danced a great deal and the music was excellent. I learned so much. I did feel nostalgic, I cannot deny it. A couple of songs almost made me cry. People said beautiful things about me to me, my dancing, my looks, and my smile. It was nice to start from scratch. I even danced salsa and felt lost, but I di

The man who makes music for the soul. Always: Juan Carlos Caceres.

It is the image in the mind that binds us to our lost treasures, but it is the loss that shapes the image. Colette in: Necessary Losses by Judith Viorst.

Child: -Do you want to play? The Other Child: -Are you ready? Child: -Yes, I am. The Other Child: - Are you sure? Child: - I am positive. The Other Child: I think we should only play doing such and such. Child: - I think we should do such and such and also x, y, and z. The Other Child: - It's tempting, but I don't think you're ready. Child: - Yes, I am. Time goes by and one day Child tells The Other Child... Child: -I am not ready. I wasn't ready. I didn't know. You don't understand. I can't play the way you want me to play. I told you my situation since day one. Why don't you wait for me until I am ready? Please, wait...I will not play with anyone else ever again. The Other Child feels like someone has taken her cloud nine from her. Where's her safety blanket? It's so freezing cold all of a sudden. She shivers. The Other Child: - I won't play anymore.

Enchanted Beach with 3 Fluid Graces, Salvador Dali. Image taken from here . Já não consigo lembrar meus sonhos. Tudo muito misturado, confuso. Sei que estás porque te senti presente. Como quando, antes de dormir, senti tua presença e me pus a chorar. Senti de novo teus lábios, teus abraços e lembrei de tua voz. Lembrei de como me saudavas. E depois pensei que foi uma pena que fizesses tudo aquilo apenas por saber que era o que esperava de ti. E doeu muito sentir-te ausente. Não poder ligar, nem dizer-te que estava ali. Chorando desamparada, com todas as possibilidades de ser feliz ao teu lado, mas deixando-te ser e ir. Reescrevo. Parece que não há conexão entre meu corpo, minha mente e meu coração. Para me defender, desliguei essas partes de mim, eu as desconectei. Para me defender da dor. Para apequenar as perdas. Para não chorar mais por um tempo que não vai voltar. A vida é tão complexa. A gente deixa escapar um grande amor e anos depois se vê sentindo falta. Pensando. Entendendo

Dali.

Mano a Mano. This song says it all. Or does it?

On Sunday, there was a bit of who we were still left on that last conversation. Perhaps, it was the nicest conversation we’ve had in a while. Both of us were calm. We were talking about things that weren’t personal, things that didn’t hurt as much. They did hurt me because I knew that we were beating around the bush. We were avoiding being us. It was like talking to you when we first met and our baggage wasn’t hanging over our heads. That intensity you like in my writings is the part of me that I want to transform. My soul is so used to feeling too much, that it hurts being alive. I see so many beautiful things around me. Nature is so perfect. Even though Florida is so flat, I can see beauty is so many places. It’s time for me to go for a walk and let fresh air touch my skin. There’s a tango song in the background. Mano a Mano. We’re even, that’s what that means. That’s true. We learned so much with each other. There were so many beautiful moments. We were so many remarkable songs and

Tenho teu rosto gravado em cada parte de meu corpo. Tenho teu rosto na memoria das noites e nos dias ventosos de comeco de inverno. Tenho teu rosto como seguranca de que o que vivi foi real e absoluto. Tenho teu rosto para me libertar dos escuros. Do vazio. Tenho teu rosto fincado em alguma parte que nao sei bem onde fica. Teu rosto, simulacro, teu rosto, uma poesia, teu rosto uma mancha rota no meu passado. Ainda es, rosto, palida essencia do que eu queria que fosses. Mas tu nao eras nem uma coisa, nem outra. Eu nunca soube muito bem o que queria teu rosto. Se fincar raizes em meu corpo, e desfazer em mim nos e poros, ou visitar-me e partir. Imagem: Salvador Dali, Paranoiac Visage. 1935.

Imagem de Vicente Sampaio. Daqui. Me parecia que o silencio reinaria. Intacto. Nossos olhos dispersos, afastados. Maos frias. O resto. O espaco aquele todo no sofa. Eu olhava para a parede. Nao queria que visses em minha alma aquele hematoma, tao disforme que tu havias causado. Nao queria que visses meu choro desesperado por ter que matar-te. Via tua morte lenta dentro de mim. As primeiras vezes que entendi que meus naos eram minhas maos a dar-te adeus. E agora vejo, ao longe, um ipe, no meio do nada. E sei que minha alma tem aquela cor. E que o verde ao redor, nao e. Fiquei com a ilusao morta. E tropecos de um amor que chegou tarde.

Que quieres conocer? -Dios y alma. -Nada mas? -Nada mas. San Augustin

Hermana Heloisa, la dialectica me ha hecho odioso al mundo. Pedro Abelardo

Goodbye, no use leading with our chins, this is where our story ends, Never lovers ever friends. Goodbye, let our hearts call it a day, but before you walk away, I sincerely want to say. I wish you bluebirds in the spring, to give your heart a song to sing, And then a kiss, but more than this, I wish you love. And if you like lemonade to cool you in some lazy glade, I wish you health, and more than wealth, I wish you love. My breaking heart and I agree that you and I could never be, So with my best, my very best, I set you free. I wish you shelter from the storm, a cozy fire to keep you warm, Most of all, when snowflakes fall, I wish you love. Last night, when I was stepping out of the bathtub and I was listening to my favorite Jazz show, this song was playing. I thought of you. I wasn’t angry or sad. It was just another remote goodbye. It was me saying to you that it’s better this way. This song was recorded by so many people. I don’t know which version of it they played last night, t

Just for the record: the situation has kind of improved, but you also piss me off. Big time.

This is one of the dresses I didn't buy. The ones I did buy look absolutely awesome. These were fun to take. It was like a private fashion show. I am my own model. Not a model, though. I am the real thing.

Some people are funny. They communicate with me through their blogs. Hair update: today it looks great. I feel like I am from another era. I am, actually. I do have an old soul. Something very 40's. Lot's of curls. I am considering becoming a blond . The problem with that would be the monthly maintenance . It's a lot of work. I do have pictures from when I had no hair. My passport picture shows a girl with shaved hair and a very sad face. I guess I was trying to smile. I can't get rid of my taquicardia. I felt like eating a hamburger after my crazy shopping last night. I sat at the bar next to a guy who was wearing a very nice cologne. By his conversation with the waitress, I could tell he was a regular. That means: he drinks a lot. The guy who sat down next to me on my left side, was wearing the worst cologne ever. I felt like throwing up. And he had a pony tail. It was fun to eat out and text my friend. We were cracking up about some clowns that we have encountered in

I bought five dresses yesterday. The last two at Bebe. This picture was taken in the fitting room at Love Culture. I was having fun. I would say that I am broke, but glad with my acquisitions. There was one time that I was wearing a Puerto Rican dress that I love, which by the way wasn't very expensive at all, in a very fancy place and everybody else seemed to be wearing fancy and expensive clothes. I don't usually care about that. I just know that some people look stunning wearing anything. And some people, even if they buy expensive stuff, just look plain. It's the person that counts. And that's true for everything in your life.

The Savages. Jimmy : Are you married? Wendy Savage : No... but my boyfriend is. And then one day the honeymoon was over. And the promises faded away. And there were so many more "ands" that it just became a horror show. And the excuses were so many and so flawed that the best choice for Wendy was to give it up, to let it go. She knew she was selling herself short, but for some reason she liked to sabotage herself. It was a process for her. She finally got it. And it was easy for her to move on because she knew that she could give herself a better love and that by being alone she could (at least) have peace of mind. She was capable of much more.

I should know that I shouldn’t get a haircut when I am depressed. Now I know that short bangs don’t really suit my face. One can argue though, that you can see more of my face if I wear my hair this way. However, at this point I feel like hiding behind my honey-colored curls.

My lips are dry. My hand is healing. My writing is just an excuse so just time doesn’t feel like a punch in my stomach. I am cold. It’s a bitter day. I lost it. I finally understood that. She says: you have to let it go. I say: how? I’ve read your e-mail and I have remained calm. There isn’t much I can do anymore. I think about my family. I talked to my brother about them and about us. I feel like we both are a miracle. I think about my grandparents and their lives. All of a sudden, I realize it’s gone. Have I ever told you that I don’t like Christmas anymore? At least I have sweaters for my dog nieces. I bet they’re going to be happy.

Bas Bleu. Definition: A literary woman, a bluestocking. I could be both. Fun website. Almost as much fun as reading Plato's The Republic (actually, the Cliffs Notes on it).

The English class I teach went really well last night. It's so easy to pay attention to what my students say. They are so hopeful. They laugh at my jokes and I feel like they are really into the things I am saying. If I could write down all my jokes and then transfer them to this blog, I bet this would be a lot more entertaining. For some reason I can't understand, pretty much everything I write here is sad. Go figure. Almost time to leave. I can't wait. Winter has a fresh and subtle smell. The sky is dark. Life is just starting.

Esquecer. Remover, tirar as manchas de sangue. Curar as feridas. Curar os ematomas, esquecer as pancadas todas. Deixar de ser.

to tell you the truth, the pain is just out of control. to tell you the truth, I don't think G-d gives a shit. to tell you the truth, I am tired of feeling pain. to tell you the truth, I want to get the hell out of here. to tell you the truth, I think that nothing makes sense. to tell you the truth, I think that we are born and die alone and at the end no one gives a flying fuck. And that's fine by me, baby. Leave me alone with my pain.

As folhas mortas de uma orquídea sobre a mesa e no carpete. Folhas modestas e, agora, transparentes. Respiro fundo porque a morte chegou. Toco as folhas de uma orquídea que fotografei e que amei enquanto me desentendia contigo. Paira no ar um cheiro de granizo. O ar é denso. Chove. Eu me acomodo na cadeira prestes a parir tua falta. Tua falta concreta e absurda. Tua falta que me espera. Tua falta para a qual volto todas as noites. Uma falta que quase não pesa, estalactite presa no teto do meu quarto. De onde ventavam antes sons e cheiros de amor. Ato barbantes feitos de fio dental, escovo os dentes com uma pressa doente de quem lembra que fazíamos quotidiano parecer uma sinfonia. Uma ópera de dois. Eu me deitava na cama e te espiava. Escovava os dentes com preguiça, a preguiça que te fazia rir e me espichava, como uma gata, para te mostrar meu corpo. Eu não tinha medo de te encontrar. Mas sempre pensei no dia da partida. É difícil e quase sobre-humano ficar entre a felicidade de alguém