:: Loneliness and love ::

Last night I fell asleep thinking about love...

...well, to be honest, it was more about the lack of it and wasn't only last night...

The thing is that somehow I feel I need to fall in love, but some part of me doesn't want to. I'm afraid I'm getting used to loneliness, which is much worse than just being alone. I mean, it'd be sad to wake up one day thinking love is worthless and feeling incapable of expressing that which dwell deep into my soul. So I guess that should at least explain why being in love is so urgent, but what about the rest?

For some time I've chosen to be "sad and alone", and it'd be fine if anyone ask why the Hell I've done that. Well, it's maybe 'cause I've seen and lived more sadness around love. Beside, with some really lucky exceptions, every day that passes I'm feeling more and more disappointed of women. I know, I know, there's not such thing as the perfect woman, but could any of them at least try. And knowing I'm not the only man in history who has though about that, here are some lines of Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer (sorry for the translation, but you'll get the point)...

- I'm sexy, I'm brunet,
I'm the symbol of passion;
of pleasure's desire my soul is filled.
Are you searching for me? - It's not you; no.

- My skin is pale, my braids are golden;
I could give you endless hapiness;
I keep of tenderness a treasure.
Are you calling for me? - No; it's not you.

- I'm a dream, an impossible,
vain ghost of mist and light;
I'm incorporeal, I'm untochable;
I can't love you. - Oh, come; you come.

So I think I'll wait, at least for a little longer. There should be someone, there must be someone...

Lost in translation: "inglich riders onli"

A few days ago I woke up with a weird feeling, the need of change... even if it's small and, for some, unnecessary. So here's my change: now my blog's in english.


The hidden reason? I don't even know if there's enough reason to do so, but until now I don't feel unconfortable with the situation. After all, there are many tools on the web that not english readers could use to translate my posts.

So here's the "new start" I needed... or at least I think I needed...

My favorite things

I can't get that bloody song out of my head, specially since it's been made part of the new market strategy of MasterCard, so I'll try to rip it off by following its example: describing my favourite things.

Winter is one of my favourite things, 'cause I love walking in the rain. First, I though it was with the secret hope that nobody could see me crying, hiding my tears under the rain drops. But I've learned that rain can wash away the sorrow. That's why winter and rain are some of my favourite things, and water is also one of them. You'll see me bathing every now and then, not just because it's fun but because water helps me clean my soul too.

Every month I wait for the beautiful night when Full Moon rises in the sky, 'cause Selene is one of my favourite things. She's able to control not only the seas. Her influence touches all the water in the Earth, including that inside of me. The silver glowing makes me smile every time my gaze looks up to the sky.

My friends are not things, at least not for me, but spending time with them couldn't escape being among my favourite things. Even if we cry until our tears are replaced by dust, there's always a smile able to change the tide. With them I could say that time goes by, but happiness remains.

Thinking and writing come hand by hand, they're also a few of my favourite things. My thoughts seem to beg to be put on paper, not only for pleasure but to bring order into chaos. When I'm writing it feels like a brain storm, but when the work is done for a while my mind is calmed.

The road calls me once in a while, so another favourite is drive until I'm bored. The freedom I feel when my face is touched by the wind only gets better when the music is right, and by that I mean some rock, blues or jazz.

I also like cooking, just as much as eating. Mom always said "don't play with your food" but she didn't say anything about the flavours, and that's why every time I'm alone, I run to the kitchen to find the perfect taste for my mood. Sometimes the food doesn't look eatable at all, but that does not matter if my tongue is thrill.

I really love the pleasure of a good book, don't care if I have to study it or I read it for fun. I could cry a river with a good story, and the same would happen on a Sunday match. You can see me every weekend supporting my team, even if the scores lead us to no win. It's not about passion, it goes even deeper, it's about feelings just a few could understand.

Watching a sunset, you and me holding hands, it's another favourite when I do the count. Walk by the ocean, enjoy a good wine, draw a beautiful flower, the smell of the South are in the list too. Here I've written few of my favourite things, for the rest just do some effort and find out for yourself.

La medida justa es...

...entre 80 y 100 kilómetros. Al menos esa fue la conclusión a la que llegamos con una amiga al discutir el tema el sábado pasado.

Desde luego hablábamos sobre distancias y no tamaños. Para ser más claro, la idea era plantearnos la distancia perfecta que debe existir entre la casa de la pareja y la propia para que ni la cercanía ni la lejanía volvieran la relación un infierno. Y aunque para la mayoría resulte exagerado (y más de alguno considere que es poco), nosotros encontramos tanto cómodo como lógico mantener esos valores.

Para explicar la idea tengo que hacer una pregunta clave: ¿quién ha sentido alguna vez que la bruja o el psicópata de turno absorve todo su tiempo y/o lo paquea sin motivo cada cinco minutos? Si en este momento está justamente retándole porque está en internet en lugar de dedicarle tiempo, evítese problemas y no ponga cara de querer responder con otra cosa que no sea un 'no, amor, yo soy feliz contigo'. Si no es así, entonces puede admitir abiertamente que es una soberana lata que las cosas se hayan puesto tan mal y que es bastante ingenioso el saber sobreponer la distancia a una potencial falta de espacio y libertad.

Pero con 80 a 100 kilómetros puede evitarse además esas inesperadas llegadas que, si bien en algunas ocasiones son placenteras, la mayor parte del tiempo interrumpen un instante de descanso, estudio, trabajo o incluso gorreo. Como su pareja no querrá pegarse un pique tan largo y que usted no esté en casa, llamará para avisar de su visita dándole entre una y dos horas para ordenar la casa, esconder a el o la amante, cocinar algo rico para recibirle y echarse una manito de gato (o un zarpazo de tigre en algunos casos).

Como ven, aunque está hecho para nuestra realidad, la idea puede servirle también a más de uno de ustedes...

Alegrías urbanas

'Calor de la puta... maldita alergia... como si no fuesen suficientes los problemas...'

Iba pensando en eso y en la camionada de cosas que quedaban por hacer durante el día, pero me distraje al ver un globo flotando en medio de la calle. Más allá de su intenso tono rojo, no entendía porqué no podía quitarle los ojos de encima.

'Es un globo cualquiera,' me dije con firmeza para dejar de pensar en él.

De pronto, un mendigo se cruzó entre los autos. Cuando cesaron los bocinazos logré ver al mendigo en la acera opuesta, sonriéndole al globo rojo...

...después de todo, quizás no era un globo cualquiera.