August 28, 2007

In the enchanted forest...

... come and walk with me
come and get lost with me in the deeps of the forest
of my lips and hands.
Come, my friend...
leave the doubts behind
and travel with me
in the eternity of a second
of kisses and caresses

Empty spaces...

She could not stop her eyes to get lost, hungry, in that scene. A couple was in that crowded bus stop, showing her love unashamedly. She knew this scene is a common thing in our country but her sensibility and the solitude had maximized her need of being loved, needed, and evoked.

It was a fleeting scene but it made her to make a serious decision: No more sensibility! But she knew very well that it was easier to say it than to do it. Where would she find the strength not to follow her heart when she got so excited talking to any boy? Could she be able to repress those hopes that arose when a guy smiled to her or when a guy offered her a flower that was no more than a sympathy gesture?

She was aware of how much her life resembled the stories she read in those useless novels. How could she stop being a dependent person?

Her thoughts made her to miss her usual stop and she realized she was lost. Her daily journey was a mechanical, learned routine. She hadn't gone beyond the stop in front of the gray building, without windows, where their office was situated. So, that mistake made her lose the little emotional stability she still possessed. Part of that stability and the fictitious security she showed every day was based on the knowledge of "her turf". Now she didn't know how to behave. Her mask was falling. It was already very late and it seemed that everybody was late for work that day. Damn the Guatemalan time…!

Guatemalan time was not a part of her life. Her life was perfect, meticulous, detailed. Knowing that she was very meticulous, she couldn't understand how she could let herself to be lost in her thoughts because of the stupid question of sensibility.

She forced herself to find her way in the tangle of streets and avenues of the city. The idiotic boss would scream at her for the first time and those lovely co-workers would gossip about her behind her back as they did with everybody.

That tangle of avenues and streets, complemented with a flood of ice and masks made her feel even more embarrassed. She didn't want to look up and watch the people who passed by her. Those mirror-lives made her to go even deeper into her emotional torture. Did somebody force her to carry out that stupid, annoying, boring routine?

She knew that there was an abyss at her feet and that it was just a matter of one movement and she could drown herself forever in that emptiness. Wasn't it what she yearned so much? To get lost forever in her intimate and loved anonymity. They maybe would bury her as a Jane Doe and in that way, it would avoid her family to feel ashamed of her existential emptiness.

Even in those circumstances, she could show some of her once-famed brilliant intelligence, always praised by all those that knew her. She was remembered with pain and pity. - Poor girl - they used to say - so intelligent when she was a child, we all thought she would go beyond any of us.

Where was the brilliant career they seemed to think she would obtain? Where was the cheerful and industrious girl? I believe they should better wonder how many people she blamed of her stupidity and bad decisions.

Oh, how much I would want to raise my eyes and find an echo of my feelings in other eyes. Every step was painful and heavy. It weighed as the whole world, words were heavy, those sweet, emotional sentences I heard once, which were no more than mere jokes. Everything was heavy. She felt her entire body hurt.

- Do you have the courage to do it? -the inner demon asked her to feed her anguish. It is only a small step and everything will end.

She closed her eyes and remembered him, his aroma, his smile, his caressing voice, his words, his vain promises written in sand. She wished with all her heart to see him in front of her when she opened her eyes but she knew she would find just her desert again.

When she finally opened her eyes, she was in front of her building. The show must go on and she had to keep pretending everything's was fine, because that's the acceptable thing in this empty and hypocrite society. To pretend that social ostracism when you don't fit in the rules doesn't matter. To pretend that life is okay just for having food, a roof, and clothes. Many will say that there are too much people in this world suffering from hunger and that is not good to be "selfish" and think just about emotional needs. Those are not true problems! You don't have to bother God with banalities!

She opened the door and with her best serious expression entered the office and began the routine of filling envelopes and more envelopes and, in this way, make her small contribution to the culture of consumption called economic development. She had to leave the emotional turbulences that consumed her behind because she couldn't afford risking losing her job.

The boring routine began again…

The last rose...

It was the last rose and everybody knew it.

Dozens of hungry eyes were fixed in that beautiful flower that was equal to an "I love you" or an "I like you". Your eyes were fixed on it too. You, a girl who always insinuated you didn't care about those things, about those flashy things. That day, however, something inside you had changed and your eyes proclaimed it in all directions. Would have you been contaminated with the false feeling of Valentine's? No, I couldn't believe it.

And there I was, in front of the teacher in charge of the roses, who smiled peacefully, expecting my request. We knew that man was already fed up with the mush and vulgarity of that day. Valentine's? Ha! It was just the artificiality that covered the daily scorn along the corridors.

My mind tried to decide what I should do next. I could feel your eyes fixed on my back. I knew you were expecting that rose, as a confirmation of all what we had lived until that moment: hints, stupid jokes, useless pretexts.

… but you knew as good as I did that it could not be. I, the most popular guy in the school, would not risk my reputation to satisfy the incipient love of a nerd like you. You had fulfilled your part; your help was invaluable to win those courses I hated so much. I knew I could not never fulfill my part.

Then, the guy in Cupid's costume started to walk toward your place; and while your cheeks showed your confusion and edginess and you tried to ignore it, your best friend was surprised when receiving the last rose which came to complete her perfect bouquet of passions…

A mysterious shoe...

The shoe was there, on the main street of that poor town hidden in the mountain. The strange shoe attracted and repelled every person that came close to it. Nobody could assure if it was a man or woman's shoe. Its thick heel could be taken as a sign of a man wearing it, but the soft curve of the sides screamed: woman, woman, without a doubt!

So, from the first moment, each one of the inhabitants of town came closer to examine that weird object. The reason they gave was that they wanted to make sure it didn't belong to them (they already knew that) but the reality was very different, it was imperative to discover who had left the shoe in the road.

That was not a joke, it was a serious matter because the gathered information would be used to complete (and to increase) the gossip about it around town.

One could notice that even in that distant town there were people specialized in solving these matters, anything better than a gossiper to solve a mystery of that type, because they dug even in the other's garbage to find the "truth". However, the problem now was that they declared themselves incapable to solve the mystery.

Oh my Goodness! Nosy people declaring themselves incapable to discover who the owner’s shoe was a sign the people of the town hoped never receive. It was a sign of the end of times.

However, a smart child suggested a new hypothesis, which was much worse for many people. What if the owner of the shoe was an infiltrated? The town had accomplished a certain level of self-sufficiency and the contact with the neighboring towns was very rare. The so-called highway was not good to travel comfortably. It had been opened a long time ago, so long ago that every witness to that impressive incident had made his last trip… to the cemetery behind the church.

Therefore, everybody hated traveling because the famous highway had started to fall in pieces three months after the opening and the grass began to grow freely among the pieces. They decided then to use the rural trails instead of wasting their time repairing the road.

The town had become so isolated that, if it was not easy to leave, it was almost impossible to get there. A popular statement in the town affirmed that someone new arrived every time a donkey died, meaning with this that it never happened. That's why they got scared when they heard the new theory about the fool object.

They summoned everybody to a general meeting to decide what they would do about the shoe. It was not that they hated strangers, they just didn't like the idea of people getting to the town and settled down among them without they noticed it… they were a democracy, damn it! … But democracy has its rules.

After an exhaustive meeting, they opted for a technique they called “Cinderella": Everybody in town will try the shoe. Every inhabitant was going to be summoned for such event, and they will try the shoe in each foot because the shoe was strange enough not to show which foot would fit… and, in that way, to finally solve the mystery.

Everybody came to the meeting because they wanted to prove their innocence. The peace they used to enjoy was long gone, they had started to distrust their neighbors as well, and that was insufferable.

When the last inhabitant tried the shoe and it was proved it wasn't his, a sepulchral silence invaded the place. It was then when they heard somebody cracking with laughter.

The local baker was laughing and laughing, in such a way that the people close to him got scared because they thought he was suffering a heart attack. But it wasn't the case and, finally, he calmed down and was able to explain the reason of his laughter.

He then told a story about him starting to make shoes; he was learning to do so little by little, as a hobby. That was a way for him to have fun and got him out of the routine. One day, he created a very weird shoe, the one giving everybody such a hard time.

One day, he decided to visit a friend and he took the shoe with him in order to show it to his friend but he dropped the shoe without him noticing it. When he was looking for it, he realized it was too late; somebody else had found it and started the problem.

The whole town then, demanded him why he didn't say something from the beginning. The man answered a smile in his face, that he was curious about how far they would push that simple matter. His experiment showed him the whole town went crazy about a tiny incident.

Having said that, everybody calmed down and, kind of ashamed went back to his normal life, not without whispering among them about the big disappointment they suffered when discovered that the so-called mystery was no more than a bad taste joke. A joke made without thinking, but a joke after all.

The baker was even more shocked whey he knew the people longed for the shoe mystery and that they had included a special prayer in the daily ones: Send us another shoe, Lord..

About utopias...

Suddenly as it had started, she knew her visit to that wonderful world had concluded.

During several days she had been flying. Yes, she had flown in the wings of dreams caused by illusions, fantasies, and beautiful words. She had left her desert of years to dive in a torrent of emotions, each one more intense that the previous one. However, she didn't think about the consequences, she didn't give a thought to the tranquility she had gotten with so much effort. She knew it was not happiness, but tranquility.

After wandering for a long time, she had arrived to that part of the desert where the solitudes were shared, where she built a small cabin and dedicated herself to make beautiful art pieces and to exhibit them along the road, as many others that lived in that place. She, then, told herself that it was the best thing that it could've happened to her.
Not even now she could explain how she let herself to be fooled by those words that seem carved in stone but were just mere words traced in the sands of the desert. Words that a storm of reality made disappear in an instant. An illusion!

Therefore, she went back to her cabin dreaming that she stopped dreaming about utopias and ghosts…

One less poem...

Nothing has changed
and everything is different though
you in your solitude
I in your company
both with souls full
both with empty hands.

The caresses have vanished
they have become nostalgias
but fondness follows our steps
wanting to show us a paradise,
the one one day we left without a word


- If your teeth are stained… use WHITE EASY, a product that will remove the ugly stains you hate so much - I could hear the TV rumbling in the distance, thousands of methods for losing weight and cleaning teeth, creams that removed skin imperfections at once… or that ad on depilation without pain… an entire art of the "advertisement."

I could not stop thinking about that cult to the beauty that corrupted the society, an empty society. At some point I wanted to invoke the soul of the great Quevedo, longing for comforting, I wished to bring him back to life or, at least, to obtain a portion of his crudeness and his pungent satire.

My imagination was wild that night. It jumped from dream to dream as a deer looking for grass to eat. Even my famous "technique" of studying with the TV on failed because of my edginess.

My desire for a change had wakened up at the sound of your voice. And it brought with it a thirst for money…. Money was what I needed in that moment. I needed to buy all those things advertised in television and by using; them get to live up to your expectations! But my conscience was already killing me because I was compromising my fundamental beliefs.

It had not been hard to leave behind those ideas with the only hope to get the desired change and win your attention. So, I went to that famous spa, attracted by the promise of a painless change. I was immediately surrounded by all those women dressed with neat doctor robes, pointing at me and already making plans for the many changes I needed.

- Miss, we must begin with a deep facial treatment in order to recover your face original texture and we can complement that with a relaxing massage. Let's see… then, a complete depilation is needed. After that, we can start working with your hair. You need a complete treatment for it. Oh, and don't forget you must get a manicure and pedicure -

What I was doing there, I, a woman who despised the tortures of beauty parlors? It was a very persuasive situation. I didn't object to anything. I consented to each one of those tortures. And for four hours I was massaged, squeezed, tormented and robbed, at least it felt like I was being robbed. It was not a problem, since "daddy's card" paid for everything; well, my dad was more than thrilled when I asked him to pay for that spa-day. He thought that I already changed and that his feminist daughter just recovered her senses. .

I left that place, transformed, squeeze, wrinkled and in pain. Now I could go to you with my head up! My make-up covered the minimum imperfection, even the acne marks. The next step was to renovate my wardrobe… I even imagined myself in one of those TV shows about image makeover. Suddenly, I woke up and realized that it was just a dream and I thank God for that!

A little more about me... (Part II)

My dear friend Duffman has invited me to participate in The Game... so, accepting his kind invitation, I'll try my best once more.

1. The first “formal" book I read in my childhood was Madame Bovary

2. My family and friends call me a "nickname" that, in fact, is kind of my third name (non-official). I love it because it makes me remember my grandfather.

3. I was very competitive and because of it, when I was in 6th grade I won a poetry contest. The weird part of the story? The winner of the contest had to write a poem for the school's "queen".

4. I have no knowledge of music…. I am a complete illiterate when it comes to musicians, singers, and music styles

5. Chinese food is my favorite… (Why would it be?)

6. I am impatient and punctual

7. I like to prepare desserts… although it's been a while since I cooked my last cake

8. I was a teacher… but being impatient and punctual made me to give it up… ;)

Would I be the one...

... who attracts the bad luck?

What do I mean by this? I'm talking about the bad luck that accompanies me whenever I go to the movies, and which I had to enjoy once more last Saturday.

Some friends and I went to the movies on Saturday. We bought our tickets and popcorn and we found ourselves a seat half hour before the movie started because we had nothing else to do... ;) So far, everything went very well. We wanted seats in the high part of the room, in the second row.

Exactly halfway the movie, two couples entered the room, four teenagers; and that was the beginning of our nightmare. They went and sit right behind us. You could tell they had a few drinks before. What else can I tell you? They talked and talked, they stood up, they sit down, and they were even pushing one of my friends back.

We wanted to move to another place but the room was full, so we had to just sit and hold tight. Many of other people seated in our row and ourselves asked them several times to be quiet and their answer was... to make more noise!

They stayed for about half hour and then they left. When we discussed that incident later, we got to the conclusion that the little monsters just wanted some dark place to make out and maybe something more. How lucky are some people having so much money to waste it so easily!

Something similar had happened to me before and I was almost decided not to return to a movie theater but... I wanted really bad to see this movie in the big screen.

A little more about me...

Oana has invited me to share eight things about myself… ;) how a difficult task! Let's begin then

1. I'm shy. It terrifies me to take the first step to speak to people I just met.

2. I love genealogy and I've been reading a lot about China since it is part of my family history.

3. I am sometimes too sincere and direct, and I prefer people to be the same way with me.

4. I never judge a book for its cover…. ;)

5. And speaking of books, reading is one of my passions.

6. I write my poems and short stories when I am very sad, very cheerful or very angry… ;)

7. My house is kind of a zoo… ;) We have a dog, three cats, three parrots, hens, ducks, and turkeys… hehehe

8. I fell in love with this blogger world! ;) (Too obvious, isn't it)