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viernes, 31 de diciembre de 2010

2010.

Anoche fue la última noche del año. Me da por pensar ese tipo de cosas, así que decidí escribir:

Los fines de año no son más que una estúpida convención, porque algún día tenía que terminarse el año. Sin embargo, yo soy una mujer que se aferra bastante a las convenciones humanas, y por eso caigo en la trampa, un año más, de despedir éste. El 2010 no ha sido un año espectacular ni alucinante, pero eso depende de cómo se mire.
Como todos los años, he llorado muchísimo, casi las mismas veces que me he reído a carcajadas. He sentido cosas parecidas a las de otros años, he visitado prácticamente los mismos lugares y he seguido hablando con gente que ya conozco.
No obstante, este año también ha sido especial. Al fin y al cabo, 12 meses dan para muchos descubrimientos. Sé que dentro de un tiempo no recordaré estas cosas ni las relacionaré con el 201o, pero por esa misma razón las escribo. Tiendo a olvidar las cosas con la misma facilidad con la que vienen a mi mente.

Este ha sido el año en el que he aprendido a conducir de verdad, a valorar que una marca es mejor que otra, y que en realidad sí importan las cosas materiales (aunque siga defendiendo el idealismo). He aprendido que hay cosas que deseas hacer durante mucho tiempo, y cuando llega el momento ya no parecen tan magníficas, y prefieres algo normal antes que toda esa parafernalia.
He aprendido que el amor tiene muchos estados y etapas, pero que al final lo que importa es el amor. He aprendido que hay límites, que el amor no tiene barreras aunque para amar sí hagan falta. Y que hay cosas que no pueden (d)escribirse. He descubierto que, aunque no sonrías muy a menudo, cuando yo me río y te miro de reojo veo que tú también te estás riendo, y esa pequeña tontería me hace muy feliz.
He aprendido que la amistad es un camino complejo, que a veces existen heridas que no van a cerrarse, pero que sonriendo todo parece más fácil. He seguido conociendo a personas alucinantes, que me han demostrado que la amistad hay que ganársela con el tiempo, y a la vez, que el tiempo sin verlas no importa, porque es como si el día anterior las hubiera visto. Me he imaginado en un futuro no muy lejano, y sé que las quiero en mi vida. Personas que me han tendido la mano sin exigirme nada, y quizás sin darse cuenta de que lo hacían. Personas que no pensé que me podían calar tan hondo, y demostrarme tantas cosas con tan pocas palabras.
Este año ha sido el año en el que he perdido la vergüenza, aunque mi cara y mi estómago no estén muy de acuerdo. Pero ha sido el año en el que más veces he sonreído cuando se me pasaban los nervios y pensaba: "Qué bien lo he hecho. Si es que a veces soy la leche.", y en el que más veces la he cagado, pero pensando después: "Olvídalo ya".
Sin duda, ha sido el año en el que de verdad he descubierto qué quiero hacer en la vida, que lo que estudio de verdad me gusta y que siempre me ha gustado, pero es ahora cuando empiezo a estar orgullosa de ello. De verdad, y no intentándolo. Y, un año más, he comprobado que lo que me gusta es dejarlo todo para el último momento, porque no soy capaz de llevar las cosas al día.
Este año he descubierto que las películas pueden ser bonitas, pero la realidad es mucho más cercana y me hace mucho más feliz.
He aprendido a discutir, a decir cosas estando segura de lo que digo, y que a veces es muy difícil entrar en razón, pero que en cualquier caso es mejor hablar.
Este ha sido el año en el que de verdad he empezado a ser original cuando me visto, a atreverme con cosas tan estúpidas como brillantes, y a darme cuenta de que no me gusta llevar sólo unos vaqueros y una camiseta, de que necesito algo distinto porque yo soy yo (excepto en los días en los que madrugo, que no soy nadie), y de que a veces me encanta el espectáculo y que todo el mundo me mire. Pero sólo a veces.

Pero todo esto no hubiera sido posible si no hubiera sido el año en el que aprendí a quererme. A quererme de verdad, y no sólo a decirme lo guapa que me he levantado. Ha sido mucho más, y me ha llevado 19 años y un momento de lucidez darme cuenta. He aprendido a mirarme y sonreír, y a creer que soy guapa y punto, y así he podido vestirme a lo loco, y dejarme crecer el flequillo, y hablar más alto, y soltar frases tan duras como ciertas, y querer, y saber lo que quiero en la vida. Todo sale de mí. Todo empieza conmigo. Por supuesto, sigo siendo yo, ésa que a veces no tiene más remedio que decirse: "vaya careto que tienes hoy, hija mía" (labor en la que ayuda mi madre, no vaya a ser que la confianza se me suba a la cabeza), y ésa que se tira dos horas para decidir si hacer algo o no, y al final no lo hace. Todavía hay mucho que mejorar. Pero este primer paso... ¡sabe a gloria!
Como siempre, espero que el nuevo año sea mejor, que llore sólo escuchando canciones y viendo películas, y que me ría mucho más.
Y, ¿qué es lo que me llevó a quererme tal y como soy, a confiar en mí, a descubrirme, y a creer que puedo hacer casi cualquier cosa que me proponga? No tengo ni la menor idea. Sospecho que un día cualquiera, a una hora cualquiera, me miré al espejo, me sonreí y, como buena publicista, me dije: "Porque tú lo vales".

O algo parecido.

sábado, 25 de diciembre de 2010








CALM












FIERCE









STRONG










DEEP











YOUNG










WILD









I was born free.


Merry Christmas!


And remember... sometimes you got to run away to see if someone is going to follow.

lunes, 20 de diciembre de 2010

Life digressions.

First of all, just a piece of song that's been swarming around me (advertising's fault):

Oh the weather outside is frightful
but the fire is so delightful
and since we've no place to go
let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...




I have to say, I'm really into Dean Martin sometimes, but Sinatra's version is also charming. Those beginning-of-the-20th-century artists were wonderful indeed.

Sometimes, I overthink a lot. A couple of days ago, I came to the conclusion that life is like music in random function. You never know what song will be next, so the best thing you can do is dancing anyway, no matter what song you're hearing, because the next one could be even worse. In music, you can always push skip forward and move on, and in life you can move on to the next chapter of your life. Sometimes, we insist on listening to the same song over and over until we get tired of it, as well as we persist in recalling that special moment forever. Not so different, huh?

Anyway, we change throughout the years. We progress, we have different tastes than we did before. We like other types of music. We have more feelings. We evolve. But we still are ourselves. That reminds me of one of my favourite authors, now that I'm going back to South-American writers (actually, for a few hours a day, I'm now living in the Caribbean with El amor en los tiempos del cólera thanks to Gabriel García Márquez). This one is Jorge Bucay. He said...

Yo soy quien soy.




No shit!

martes, 7 de diciembre de 2010

Flawless dreams.

Life is all about dreams.
Every single decision we make is in order to achieve something bigger. We hardly notice, but our dreams can actually come true. If you open your eyes...

Of course, there will always be something that you can never do, but, instead of complaining for the things we haven't done, why aren't we happy for the things we've done? There are thousands of dreams out there, really tiny ones, almost invisible, waiting for you to discover them.
The thing is, most of our dreams are perfect. Totally movie-like. A kind of dream we already know it's not possible. A car which costs a fortune, a huge house somewhere beautiful... even the idealistic ones have a hard time trying to find the perfect family, the perfect friendship, the perfect date... Hollywood has done a lot of harm to everyone. We know it, but we still look up to those extremely shallow situations.

The question is, can it be perfect without being perfect?

The most typical answer is the 'if everything was perfect, it would be so boring!' kind of thing. That's crap. The perfect excuse for those who have lots of trouble out there. If everything was perfect, it would be awesome. But still, what's perfect? If you're in a date and you fall down the stairs, does that mean it was a disaster? I think that would make the date even more special, and surely remembered. Even with those kind of flaws, things can go great because stupid screw-up situations are the funniest ones. And fun is still considered as a good thing, right? Making fun of ourselves is one of the smartest things we can do when everything's going wrong. It saves the day.

I couldn't make most of my dreams come true when I wanted. I'm a patient girl, but after a while, some dreams just begin to change. You start changing. Everything changes, and it's not a bad thing. It's just different. Some years ago, I would've died for a trip to the Harry Potter set; some months ago I dreamed of travelling to Forks (I still do, but by now it's just impossible); some days ago I dreamed of ditching class to go on vacation to a deserted island... dreams change all the time, as we do. So you'd better go and make it real before it goes by.

In my personal opinion, I think we shouldn't have just one big dream, because that would only cause pain and emptiness. There would only be two options for that one dream: you make it, and then your life from then on will feel senseless; or you don't make it, and you'll be obsessed with that dream, blaming yourself and the others for not making it. A total disaster, a dream becoming a nightmare.

Just be enthusiastic for every single thing you do.
This reminds me of a brilliant piece of monologue, said by Ted Mosby a few seasons ago:

'Because that's the thing about stupid decisions- we all make them, but time is funny and sometimes a little magical. It can take a stupid decision, and turn it into something else entirely.'

Flawless dreams are boring. Just make mistakes and enjoy them. Maybe one of those mistakes turns out to be your real dream.

martes, 23 de noviembre de 2010

Infectious.

When was the first time you realised you were in love?

Sometimes, I wonder weird things. That one above wasn't one of them. In fact, that's a pretty regular question, it seems like it's been taken from a twee romantic movie. But that simple question leads me to the word smile. Because nothing is more authentic than the smile we put when we're madly in love. Does that mean that smiling is a good thing? Sure...right?



BTW, this thing up here is not taken from any movie. That was Spanish love in another place. A pretty good reason to smile.

Then, why aren't we always smiling? Why smiles aren't our innate state? Why are we always with that serious expression on our faces? Everyone's prettier when they smile, and we insist on looking uglier. Smiles and laughters are infectious, and we're aware of it. Why do we keep them inside, then? Well, maybe we're scared of not having a response. And we're probably right about that. Who smiles when they see someone smiling?

Well, I do. But that only happens to me when it's him.

After all, that's what remains. Smiles. Laughter. Kisses. Hugs. Feelings. It's so ethereal...but in the end, it's what matters. It makes your heart beat. Nothing else will make you happy. Nothing else will make your world turn upside down. When everything fails, those little smiles are what make you go on. However, if you have love...then lucky you! Nothing can go wrong if you're in love.

Go spread it! Both love and smiles can be infectious.



jueves, 11 de noviembre de 2010

Glam up!

Women are so envious in general.


That's the smartest thing I've ever read. It wasn't long ago. In fact, it was yesterday, and although C. Bushnell is not my favourite writer, sometimes she just blows my mind.

Before I start, I have to say I've found a beauty icon, and she was totally unknown to me until yesterday:


Pretty, right? She's Jean Seberg. Well, in fact, sadly, she was. She wasn't even alive when the eighties arrived (although that's for sure a good thing regarding fashion in the nineties), but she had this beautiful anachronistic smile. That hazardous haircut deserves being showed, because she looks totally gorgeous even with that incredibly short hair.

Anyway, back to glamming up. What's a fashion icon? I think it's very controversial. Even I could be a fashion icon if I wore those extremely weird clothes. Anyhow, you have to believe in what you're wearing, and that way, anything can be pretty. And stylish. But the thing is, sometimes, even those big fashion icons make mistakes.

In other words, Carrie Bradshaw on screen. It can also be Sarah Jessica Parker, but this time I've only seen what she's wearing during filming SATC.
In fact, Carrie is a fashion icon most of the times, like these times:


Yeah, sure you nailed it. But, Carrie, I'm sorry to tell you that you're not always that lucky:

This one on the left makes me cringe. When I first saw the outfit in the specific chapter, I wondered if it was a kind of joke.
(BTW: that one on the right is not two-heads-Carrie, it's just the fabulous Samantha Jones popping in. Ah, Sam, another icon, but not really a fashion one).









And kind of a similar thing occurs with make up. This time, like most of the times, less is more.




However, maybe she just looks prettier smiling.
I visited Patricia Field's blog recently and it's not that bad, I like most of the outfits, but the most hideous ones in the series were designed by her.
I have to say I mostly think of SJP as a fashion icon, though. She totally glams it up. And, the most important thing, she's nice, smiley, really likeable. I wish Carrie was the same way.

martes, 26 de octubre de 2010

Words.

I've almost forgotten about this thing, and it wasn't because I was super-busy studying. With holidays so over I can't even remember the feeling, and college just started, I feel like I'm stuck in this moment forever, like I'm always getting up at 7 am, always catching (and mostly missing) both the bus and the subway twice a day, doing the same things over and over... I need a really long vacation. But, anyway, today was one of those days in which I feel like a writer, and it's been a while since my last I-feel-like-Carrie moment.
So I started thinking about relationships and things we say. Is it okay if we are very explicit? Too explicit, should I say? Would that relationship get over it, like it never happened? Or would it never recover from those tough words? I'd say it depends on the strenght of the relationship. However, when it comes to relationships, what should we say and not say? (I'm a total SATC addict, I think that the last sentence is actually in the series).

There are some words, let's say phrases, that are way too strong, they imply so many things, and their meaning is too important to say it out loud. But that's only noticeable when they've already been said.
Words can scare us, they can move us, make us cry, make us smile, but most of all, they surprise us. And all that "nothing-would-ever-again-surprise-me-at-all" crap is not true. We can always be surprised again, no matter what happened before, although we love to think (and say) that we won't. We never get used to feelings. When it comes to relationships, we are never experienced. And we can't not be surprised. It's human nature.
Sometimes, in relationships, we move back. And that can only have two possible consequences: True Love (not only meaning couples, but also friends) or The End.
Maybe we need to go back to basics to realise how important that relationship is. And sometimes we don't need to hear words. But that's only noticeable when we've already heard them.

But, anyway, we shouldn't be afraid of saying things. If you want to feel, you have to take risks. Some of them will be painful, some won't. That's life: living.

sábado, 18 de septiembre de 2010

September.


So now we're in the dim light!

Well, finally September's here. Summer's almost over, but I still have a couple of weeks to enjoy holidays. In September you never know what the weather will be, so you never notice fall's coming until The Flood surprises you on a quiet September night, while you're watching Sex and The City in good company, sitting on a dark red couch. That was my first September rain, a couple of days ago. I love driving when it rains. It makes me feel like I'm in a movie, although there are so many things that make me feel that way that I could hardly count them. That's an easy thing to feel, specially if you're into Carrie Bradshaw's story.





Anyway, since that first rain, the sky's been very cloudy, but that doesn't make me feel sad. It makes me smile, because it reminds me of the very first date of my life, three years ago. I think next week's gonna be very cool. Or at least that's what I need. I need, like that song, that in the middle of September we'd still play out in the rain...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvYJQv8EZHY&ob=av2n


I've been loving this song for a lot of time, and this is the best month to listen to it. I don't really know why, but that words... of all the things I still remember, summers never looked the same, years go by and time just seems to fly, but the memories remain... they make me hopeful for a better future, because I really want things to get better and better, without forgetting the good memories from the past, the ones that draw a wide smile in your face.

And we all know that everyone's prettier smiling.


I just hope that we have nothing to lose but everything to gain.







lunes, 16 de agosto de 2010

Awesomeness.

Just realising that the summer is passing by, short as always. Even shorter. Anyway, summer songs keep blowing my mind (Getting Over, for example), it's f*cking hot out there every minute of the day, and my memorizing skills seem to be better than in other seasons. I guess it's the lack of study what makes me smarter, ironically. A few series catch my attention at this moment, the one that I'm most excited about is Hot I Met Your Mother. I just love Lily and Marshall, they almost made me cry today. Awesome. And...suit up! This is Lily and Marshall's very big moment:
-Ok, I'll go first. Lily, there are a million reasons why I love you. You make me laugh. You take care of me when I'm sick. You're sweet, caring, and you even created an egg dish and named it after me-she puts a bit of Italian dress in scrumbled eggs before she cooks them, it's called "Eggs Marshall", and it's awesome. But the main reason why I love you is...you're my best friend, Lily. You're...the best friend I've ever had.
-My turn. Marshall, I love you 'cause you're funny and you make me feel loved, and...you make me feel safe...and...for our anniversary you gave me a sweatsuit that says "Lily and Marshall, rockin' it since 96", I kind of wish I was wearing it right now 'cause... it smells like you. But the main reason I love you, Marshall Eriksen, is...you make me happy. You make me happy all the time.
There were lots of things I'd like to have put in the blog, but now I don't feel like writing about them. I even wrote them on paper, but now I can't even remember what I was thinking about when I did it. I have words like "laughter and cry theory", "bad habits", "wide smile"...but it doesn't really make sense now. Conclusion: don't wait too much to do something you want to do, because maybe "later" is a little bit late. The bright side: there are always things that make you happy, and, fortunately, you don't get tired of them.

domingo, 11 de julio de 2010

Dazzling meadows.

Every now and then, I dream about having my own meadow. It's only infatuation, a stupid consequence of being a Twihard. But this tiny infatuation turned into a huge obsession. And I wrote it.

I was turning mad. That was the only possible explanation. I didn't understand why the only thing I wanted was that my house would be in anywhere mountainous and rainy, where I wouldn't have to worry about what clothes should I wear, because surely I would choose something comfortable and warm. A place where people wouldn't meddle and a place where the only thing to see would be mountains, meadows and rainy beaches. A place where I wouldn't have concerns about future, because it would be eternal. No eating, no sleeping, no cell, no computer, no makeup, no college. Only rain and clouds. And maybe a car. An old one. Even though I would spend my time walking, running.

I knew that all the books dealt with characters without a defined future, without expectations or any future plans. Was I, then, a novel character? From a romantic novel, maybe, a magical one.

Days went by. It started raining, and it wouldn't stop. That made me happy and I knew why.

Jeans, sweatshirts and mountain boots made me smile, and that wasn't a good sign. I knew I was turning into Bella Swan, although I'd always been sort of an Alice Cullen.


sábado, 26 de junio de 2010

Family and memories.

Sometimes, I have to love them.
This week, I couldn't think about anything, because I had this Iyaz song in my mind all the time, it was insane. It was like actually my iPod was stuck on Replay. And I don't even have an iPod. But, anyway, apart from a football match yesterday and driving a yellow Porsche on Thursday, nothing interesting.
This morning, I had to go to my grandparents' house, because everyone'd been painting it for about a month, so I had to help today. Being surrounded by my family it's always interesting and pleasant. I can't help remembering old memories. We've always been really close to each other, and, even my grandpa, who's the most distant in the family (excluding me sometimes), calls his sister every now and then (she lives in Argentina).

Everytime I go to my grandparents',which is almost every week, one image comes to my mind inmediately, a sudden flash of my own memories: us, laughing, all of us. Women in my family tend to laugh a lot more, but in this one, everyone's laughing. I totally love it. It was my 5th birthday, maybe my 4th, or even my 6th... I can't remember. Things were quite different back in the 90s, specifically about 15 years ago.






So, when I came back home, I thought about their own past, not mine. And I had to look for those old photos they took hundreds of years ago. There's only one thing that I enjoy more than seeing myself in photos: seeing black-and-white photos of my family. Amazing.








So, I love my grandparents' house, because, simply, it Feels Like Home.




miércoles, 23 de junio de 2010

Smells like Summer.

My summer holidays have just begun and I thought it would be pretty funny to start a blog, just because, sometimes, I have to write about things, and I've been watching too much Sex and The City lately. Not that I'm a journalist, nor pretending to. I just...like writing.
I don't know if this will work out, because I get tired of this things after a while, but, anyway... by now I'm in. I just realized that the title of my blog doesn't fit very well right now (not in the dim light anymore around here!).
I've just finished my college exams today. When I was getting into the subway, I thought about this whole year. It seems like yesterday when I started this first year of college, and now it's already done. I broke my promise once again: I didn't study every day, actually it's been worse because I had this weird feeling that I didn't need to study anymore after I graduated, and it took me months to finally...well, not study, but trying to. And I'll probably break the other promise: I said I would give the violinist some cash if I passed all my exams. I hope I pass them, but I actually don't have any cash.
Anyway, let's go for the shortest night of the year! After all this rain, summer's here. Finally.