Digging Deep Inside

Why Not? or Lessons Learned

I learned a very valuable lesson this past few weeks: the difference between choosing to quit and giving up.
The end result is pretty much the same. One ends up ending a situation it was supposed to go on. And all the difference is on the feeling.
When you choose lo leave a country, a relationship, a job, a way of living..., even though is hard and painful, you feel powerful. There is an inner strength that drives you to move forward and stick to you decision, because it was your choice, because you finally became the master of your own life.
Giving up on the other hand, makes you feel powerless. Sometimes, even useless. It is like you succumbed to wrong voice inside your head, to your weaknesses and your ghosts.
They are both acts of rebellion. Against your self, the situation, other people’s expectations and feelings, whatever is between yourself and your peace of mind. Even against that voice telling you to be stronger than the pain, the anger, the doubts and the fear.
There is no right or wrong here. Sometimes life gives you no room to choose and the universe keeps making decisions for you. And sometimes you are just to tired to fight. You need that little amount of energy you have left to survive for the next day and giving up and letting go are the only reasonable thinks to do.
I think I just realized how mature one needs to be to know the difference. When weakness of character meets self protection, or when determination meets stubbornness.
I still make choices and decisions for the wrong reasons, and off course they don’t end up pretty well. I guess the next lesson, not to learn but always to remember, is to hear my heart a little more.
A friend told me today how he started to seize more of live when he decided to look at opportunities and tell himself "why not?". And he really got me thinking all day. The thing is, I always have reasons to do stuff: because I can, because it will help somebody or make them happy, because I would like someone to do it for me when I need it, because it sounds right... And I end up doing thinks that add absolutely no value to my life, just because. From now on I will ask my self "why not?". I really want to know when something is worth doing and safe my energy and time for the good things life has reserved for me. This time around, I will be paying close attention when the answer is "because it is not fulfilling; it doesn’t make me happy; is not what I want".
Probably a little too late in live to be aware of this, some might say, but I say better late than never. Some people don’t get chicken pox until their forty and their kids get it at kinder garden. Timing is overrated. The only right speed in life is your own pace, and I am certainly enjoying mine.

Por qué odio desmaquillarme

Se acerca el verano en Brasil y con él el calor que imposibilita el sueño. Traducción: fuera cubrelecho, cobijas, mantas, etc, para dar cabida a un juego de sábanas nuevecito, de un blanco inmaculado.

En aras de proteger mis nuevas sábanas, hoy decidí desmaquillarme antes de dormir. Quiero aclarar que todos los productos que existen para eso me parecen un baño de gato (que en una persona es asqueroso, mientras que ver un gato bañarse es divino). Para mi, la ultimate solution, es agua y jabón.

Quienes han tenido el placer de dormir en mi casa, o han tenido la amabilidad de recibirme en alguno de mis tantos viajes, pensarán que "la desmaquillada" es una práctica muy normal en mi rutina diaria (cuando llegamos a la casa a una hora decente y con un nivel de alcohol en la sangre que permita controlar la motricidad fina, aclaro). Pero no es así, cuando estoy sola, son contadas las veces que me acuesto "cari-lavada". Todo porque le tengo pánico al plan.

No importa dónde me encuentre, Brasil, Colombia, casa, apto, hotel. Detesto la rutina de agachar la cabeza sobre el lavamanos y pasar varios minutos intentando quitar el jabón bajo el incómodo y pequeño chorro de agua. No hay una sola vez que haga este proceso estando sola y no pase por mi cabeza la idea de levantarme y ver a "alguien" parado detrás de mí, en el reflejo del espejo. La imagen varía: puede ser un fantasma, un asesino violador, un muerto, una bruja, etc. Es aterrador levantarme a mirar al espejo. Los segundos que estoy con la cara entre el lavamanos, se pasan imaginándome la sangre regándose, aclarada por el agua y el jabón aún sin limpiar.

A tal punto llega, que hay momentos en que casi siento un cosquilleo en las piernas como si quien estuviera trás de mi, y usara un pantalón muy muy viejo y lleno de tierra. Un calorcito detrás del cuello por la respiración exaltada de quien me va a degollar. Una paranoia que los más expertos compararían con una "perseguidora" de porro vencido, como viendo gremlins en una estación o creyendo que vamos todos a ser arrojados a las vías del tren.

Se preguntarán por qué esto no ocurre con la lavada de dientes. Lo que pasa es que he desarrollado una técnica con el labio inferior (útil en muchos otros tasks) que me permite escupir de lejos sin ensuciarme ni salpicar.

Después de imaginarme al viejito maloliente hoy, tenía que contarles esto. Sobretodo porque ya se acerca mi cumple y quiero que entiendan que los años de más que pueda reflejar mi ya no tan lozana tez, no se deben a la rumba, el trago, la viajadera y la trasnochadera. Juro que si no durmiera maquillada, parecería de 15.

What to Expect When You Are Expecting

Future and actual Mommys and Daddys are going to have to forgive me, but I find this book pretentious and selfish.  Since when "expecting" became exclusive for pregnant women? I expect a looooooot. I am mostly expecting all the time.  How come there are no books for my kind of expectation?

 

If you look for "Expect" in the dictionary, you will get:   

 

1. To look for (mentally); to look forward to, as to something that is believed to be about to happen or come; to have a previous apprehension of, whether of good or evil; to look for with some confidence; to anticipate; -- often followed by an infinitive, sometimes by a clause (with, or without, that); as I expect to receive wages; I expect that the troops will be defeated.

2.  to consider obligatory or required;

3.  to consider reasonably due;

4.  (obsolete) To wait for; to await.

 But if you search for it in google, you might end up suscribing to site that helps you track you’re baby’s growth!!! I have absolutely nothing against pregnancy, on the contrary, I find it one of the most beautiful things in the world.  I, in fact, envy pregnant women, because, according to this book, they are allowed to feel the anxiety of "expecting", and everyone around has to understand it a deal with it.

What about the rest of us???? Don’t we "expect" anything in life? and, for what it’s worse, aren’t we allow to feel the anxiety too? gggrrrrrr!

I would like to have a weekly calendar on what to expect when expecting other things in life.  For example: 

* Confirmation after a job interview:  Week 6 Your inmune and digestive system funtions are becoming inhibited.  Get up from the phone and stop waiting for Human Resourses to call (they probably hired someone else). It is time to try to get an other interview.

* Hot guy to call back:  Week 2 Now you past form the increasing sweating from last week, to chest pain an the nausea.   Hang in there!!! DO NOT drink and dial.  He is probably on a working trip in Uganda.

* Vacations to start:  Week 50 You are just 2 weeks away from your dream vacation in Bahamas.  Although is not unsual for the working period to overdue, you reach the deadline to unbooked the cruise without paying a penalty worth one year salary.  Get over those heart palpitations and shortness of breath, and go talk to your boss!!!! YOU REALY NEED THIS TRIP.

* News from your boyfriend while away on a business trip:  Week 1 Already having concerns? He told you that roaming will cost a fortune and there is no internet in Rio de Janeiro.  Get zen and try to calm that sense of dread and panic.  The tall, blonde and beautiful women you saw in facebook are just a bunch of girls from work.  It is very commun in Brazil to have important meetings at the beach wearing bikins and drinking beer.

Those who had experienced the anxiety of expecting, know exactly what I am talking about.  Sometimes the results are greater that you ever expected, and the stress and headaches and the pale skin and blood pressure and the trembling and many others, are totally worth it.   But other times (I starting to feel this is usual thing) what you see at the end of the road is such a disappointment, that you can’t believe that you were two panic attacks away to be admited in a mental institution.

Just like what happened to me today.  I had being expecting news form a collaborator on book I am trying to write.  I wrote requesting specif data and gave a very detailed list of demands including references to cities and places, a range of music allowed to be use as influence in the book, and frecuency for the updates.  It seems like I was expecting a too much! The initial excitment became stress, and suddenly the stress became anxiety, and finally the anxiety became anger.  And after 20 days I got a lame excuse and a lousy picture.

So, here is my advise for those "expecting":  there is no week calendar on the internet, no support group in a dark alley, no proven formula to be calm.  You are alone in this! and there is no way you are going to let the "expectation" eat you alive.  Work hard, be focus, get zen and hope for the best.  But do not waste your life waiting by the phone.  Invite your new friends to your house for a few aguardientes on the weekend, and you’ll see the world finding it’s way to give you what you deserve.

Good luck!

You Wear The Sun [i]

      My dementors are probably starving lately. Somehow in the last few months my fears seem to be lighter and they probably haven’t been able to feed themselves.  And it is true what everyone say about overcoming one’s fears... you get to see live in a very different way.

Today was my first flight after THE flight, and it felt very different from any other I ever took.  First, I got to sit by the window, which I never do, and I looked through it.  But I mean REALLY looked.  It was one of the most beautiful views I had ever seen:  It was my dying sky.  (Stop with the look right there!!! It is not a creepy thing).  People who know me for quite a long time, know that I talk about this all the time.  I think that the day you die you get picked up. You don’t just die and grab a taxi to the death zone or something, you get picked up.  I picture being death around 4:00 pm in a very beautiful afternoon.  One with a sky so blue, filled with spongy white clouds, where the sun can come through in yellow and orange lines, like in a religious painting from renascence.  I imagine floating up in to the sky while the day is ending, feeling this light heat like when the sun hits your face in a cold day.  Closing my eyes and letting myself go to be picked up.  They and I will sit in cloud and see the horizon become red and purple, and just before the last ray of sun light goes away, I say my last goodbye to this world and walk into the night for all the eternity.

That was the sky I saw today.  It was unbelievable.  All around me was light blue and there was this bed of cotton clouds under the airplane. The sun was beautiful.  What’s with the sun, that always seems to bring so much joy? I found myself thinking about happy moments in my live, and most of them were sunny.  My sister’s wedding in Bucaramanga, my trip to Tota, my vacations in Rio, crossing the lakes in Bariloche…  I thought a lot about Rio today, in how happy I was there and all the crazy things we did.   

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqYtVyC4ALE&feature=related

The pebbles you’ve arranged
In the sand they’re strange
they speak to me like to constellations as we lie here
There’s a magic I can’t hold
your smile of honey gold
and that you never seem to be in short supply of

(Chorus)
Ooh, so baby lets get it on
Drinking wine, and killing time and sittin in the summer sun
You know, I wanted you so long
Why did you have to drop that bomb on me

Lazy days crazy dolls
You said we’ve been friends too long
Seven days in sunny June
Were long enough to bloom
The flowers on the summer dress you wore in spring
The way we laughed as one
And then you dropped the bomb
That I’ve know you too long for us to have a thing

(Chorus)x2
Ooh, so baby lets get it on
Drinking wine,and killing time and sittin in the summer sun
You know, I wanted you so long
Why did you have to drop that bomb on me
Why did you have to drop the bomb

Could it be this
The story in your eyes
Tell of silent wings
You fly away on.

Seven days in sunny June
Were long enough to bloom
The flowers on the sunbeam dress you wore in spring
Yeah yeah, the way we laughed as one
Why did you drop that bomb on me

(chorus)
Ooh, so baby lets get it on
Drinking wine, and killing time and sittin in the summer sun
You know, I wanted you so long
Why did you have to drop the bomb on me

Could it be this
The honeysuckle blessings you seem to show me
Could it be this
For seven days in june I wasn’t lonely
Could it be this
You never gave me time to say I love you
Could it be this
I know you dont believe me but it’s so true

Don’t walk away from me girl
I read the stories in your eyes
Don’t you walk away from me
I read the stories in your eyes
And you been telling we been friends for too long girl
I think I love you
I think I love you


(but you wanna drop the bomb)
ooh

uhhhhhhh

Anyway, I loved my sun today.  I looked like a child staring at the window.  Seeing the plane’s wing ripping off the spider web while we were passing by.  Getting in to the clouds, like getting under the covers.  Nothing but white all around you.  But the curtain is already open and you know the sun is out there somewhere.  And you uncover just enough of your face to feel it.  And slowly open your eyes to see the breakfast coming to bed……. That looks a lot like happiness to me.  And I don’t want Mr. Burns trying to cover it, or the Decepticons trying to stealing it to save their planet.  My hope for happiness in this new country will be any were the sun raises.

 

---

 

[i] The Delays (Faded Seaside Glamour)

The Long Road

How do you manage the fact that your life has change for ever in a way there is no turning back?  Even if I wanted to go back to Colombia, I wouldn’t be having my old job and would probably end in a completely different company.  After 8 and half years in Nestle, am I ready to do that?

 

I can’t go back. It has been only one week and it feels a lot like the last time I came here:  same hotel, same room, same routine, same desk, same people, same mess…… no training plan, no phone, no portuguese.

 

How long does it take to feel like home? When do I stop thinking in the people I left behind? How long does it take for me to realize that they are gone for good? That I am gone for good?

 

I took the long road but feels like temporary. It feels that I will go back in a few days, maybe a month, not any longer. It seams that I only have to hang in there for a few lonely weekends and everything will be ok.

 

This is it. I am here now.  I am gone now.  I left my heart and soul there. I am an empty shell where only body parts exist. Everything I ever loved was left there.  I need to grow new things inside me or my shell will drop dead in any second, lifeless and dark and ugly.

 

I was accused of horrible things yesterday……. I do not longer belong to that place. What you can’t see, won’t hurt you.  Only good people will remain in my heart. ‘Cause “the water rolls down the drain”[1], and “ash to ash, dust to dust, fade to black… but the memory remains”[2], and those worth remembering will loved and cherish for ever.

 

This is the long, long, long road.  Today, Real Live Brazil stars.

---

[1] The Decemberist, JULY, JULY!

[2] Metallica, THE MEMORY REMAINS

Homesick

Falta un día para llegar a Colombia..............

http://www.quedeletras.com/video-53622-videoclip-depeche-mode-home/

Home (Depeche Mode)

Here is a song from the wrong side of town
Where I’m bound to the ground by the loneliest sound
And it pounds from within and is pinning me down

Here is a page from the emptiest stage
A cage or the heaviest cross ever made
A gauge of the deadliest trap ever laid

And I thank you for bringing me here
For showing me home
For singing these tears
Finally I’ve found that I belong here

The heat and the sickliest sweet smelling sheets
That cling to the backs of my knees and my feet
Well I’m drowning in time to a desperate beat

And I thank you for bringing me here
For showing me home
For singing these tears
Finally I’ve found that I belong

Feels like home
I should have known
From my first breath

God send the only true friend I call mine
Pretend that I’ll make amends the next time
Befriend the glorious end of the line

And I thank you for bringing me here
For showing me home
For singing these tears
Finally I’ve found that I belong here

How does it feel to be afraid to fly

Last and first time I cry in an airplane was last year when my aunt dyed.  I had been going back and forward from Bogota to Bucarmanga to see her when she was sick and the time finally came for me to go bury her.  I was honestly sad.  The woman that was right by my mother through my entire live, that ended up being my financial support and feeling like my second father, died in a very unexpected and painful way.  Last time I saw her she was laying on a hospital bed all wired and unconscious….the remains of someone that used to be so alive. I was also going to this rough path with the guy I was dating (by rough path meaning being dumped) and I felt miserable. I had every right to cry. And I did.  Not with in a show business kind of way, all out loud or anything like that, but I was crying and anyone could notice it.  I loved it!!!! I had been wanting to cry on an airplane for quit long.  It was liberating. I let all my fear posses my in the most helpless way to end up feeling abandoned and lonely.  No more restrains.  No more trying to hide the fear, the palms sweating, the desperation and the shame.  The fly back home after the funeral felt completely different, almost surreal.  I left my family being a new entity, one that I can longer recognize, and the whole trip I was trying to get rid of that image.

After that, lot of trips came.  I met a flight attendant for Air Canada –friend of a friend- in ChaCha, and she advised me to take the strongest sleeping pill possible.  I remembered the one I used when I was sick and the fact that it was also kind of anti-depressive, seduced me in a minute.  It helped me though a 4 hour flight to Miami and a 3 hour flight to Chicago.  It was unbelievable.  Almost like nothing was going on (I was still dumped by that tim… I think it was the second time).  I slept through must of the first flight but at the second one I was awake, laughing at the fact that I could recognize the things that scared me the most, but I was feeling like in a beautiful garden being carried away by butterflies and fairies. There was still the pre-flight fear (not sleeping the night before) to fight with.  I visited my family for Christmas holydays and my pill (have of it, ‘cause they were just 1 hour flights) helped me through Bogota-Bucaramanga and Medellin-Bogota.

Then it came Rio.  I was so excited about the whole trip that the fear of flying mixed up with too many other emotions that was hard to notice. I took the pill on sleeping purposes (6 hours flight to Sao Paulo and one and a half hour to Rio).  When I came back, I didn’t take it.  Didn’t need it.  Just came back from a great vacation.

In this trip to Sao Paulo, I went to Panama first (don’t ask, company policies) and didn’t take it either until I got in the 7 hour flight Panama-Sao Paulo (sleeping purposes again). But I felt a little frighten.  The night before I felt nothing.  I was so emotional about starting my new life, and leaving behind people I didn’t want to leave (thank God those people kept me company through the night), that there was no room for fear.  Finally, I took a plane to Buenos Aires today. Six hour flight round trip.  And I didn’t take my pill.  And I wasn’t afraid any more. I wasn’t. Believe it or not.  I even enjoyed the bloody flight. When it moved strongly, when it switched unexpectedly, when it started, when it ended.

It got me thinking.  Is it because I finally understood that planes are my closest way to home now? That would trade thousands of flying miles and hundreds of hours waiting on an airport or sitting on a plane to be ten minutes on a couch, rattling with my bracelets and hearing about how the day was? Maybe.

Maybe, is it a matter of frequency and I’ve been doing it so many times that now it feels familiar.  O my God if this is the secret of a lifetime!!!!! Is this who the universe works? Frequency??????  That simple?

So you only have to spend enough amount of time with some for the weirdness to go away and feel fry to finally fall endlessly in love? You only have to hear the new language for a couple of months to finally stop being a mess in your own head? You only have to eat guanabana in many different plates for you start to really like it? Fuck the universe.  I guess it has been a very long day and the caipiriña I just had with dinner is not letting me think straight…. Or is it?

I just hope there is no turning back, ‘cause today, I wasn’t afraid to flight.