CONTROL

Some people think I'm a controller because of my obssession with time. I always ask, "When?What time?" and then I write it down in my agenda. Yes, I'm a control freak, but of time, and not of other people's time, but of my own. If I know how long to wait then I know when to move and go on. If not, I get really anxious. I think it is important to respect time, other's and my own. Some people live carelessly, without a regard of time. Not me I can't. By the way, gotta go, it's time!

DECLUTTERING

It is known by updated currents in positive thinking (not to call them philosophies) that clutter, being it physical or psychological stops one from moving on. Due to the great news I've received lately I should declutter in order to receive the new flow of events that are coming my way. So, as tomorrow I have a new class at home I'm clearing the table to make it work as a desk, again. I have to clean the whole flat to make room for the new man in my life, not that he is coming to live with me, but, just to be with me for a few days. And in order to get away from the past which seems to have a grip on me (or me on it) since the mattress afair, I have to take many steps, to let go many grudges and many anchors which --gulp-- are not easy to let go.

SURPRISES

Who doesn't love them? I mean the good ones. There are so many. Unexpected and simple or simply ellaborated. For example when you plan a surprise party nothing compares to the face of the surprised person. But I'm not lingering with those surprises. The ones I'm dealing with are those which are everyday surprises, those little unexpected things that just happen. For example, the other day I was chatting with Sean. There's nothing unusual about it, I know, only that his camera hadn't been working and I was getting used to not seeing him, so I sent a request for a video call for him to see me, I mean when we started dating-chatting I was the only one who could see because I didn't have a cam and he couldn't see me, suddenly the image went blank and when I sent the request again BAM! there he was! In full view, whole smile and all. It was such a beautiful surprise! Then Ame's party, I expected it to be a terrible experience for me, and I acually had a great time. Or what about the mobile calls from Adam in the middle of the park? Or Krow appearing on msn? Or even better Alexis chatting for a while!

But the best of all is when you are secretly wishing something and it happens. Many months ago now Sean and I stopped chatting during the weekends because he started working with his brother and once I told him I missed our weekend chats. Long time ago. Since he cancelled his visit in August I had been wondering when he would mention it again. Patience rewards. Well, today he told me he is finishing his work at the brother's, he has saved enough and he's planning not to touch that money in Chistmas so he can come. "For health's sake, for love's sake" he said. So, we're having back our weekends and he has already a plan. I couldn't help but remembering what Mau told me about a year ago, "I don't know why, but I'm sure this guy will appear one day at your door with a bunch of flowers." Well, if that's the case, I'd better be dressed! Or not?

WHY AM I SO OBSSESSED WITH TIME?

I was writing another entry in my diary today and I noticed I was worried because the battery in my mobile had gone flat and I didn't know what time it was. Each time I write an entry or tell an anecdote I mention the time it happened, sometimes, if I rememeber the time the rest will follow easily. But I wonder, why do I get so obssessed with time? I've been reading this book about "The Power of Now". The cafeteria owner asked me what I thought. I still don't know. I am not very convinced... about the book, not about the owner. Anyway, what is important about this is the mention about psychological time and physical time. According to it, psychological time (it looks so psycho) refers to our constant travelling to the past and to the future either for refuge or dreaming or blaming. Physical time there's only now. Ok, agreed. I live too much in both: psychological and physical. I am constantly remembering my past, I write my present so it will be reading subjet sometime in the future. I am constantly dreaming about things being better in the future... with Sean, when I finally end my thesis, when I get to publish whatever, when....

And I am constantly worried about getting on time to my classes in the physical time... or is that also the psychological time? Worrying about the near future?

I don't know, I just noticed I am quite obssessed with writing down the time in which things happen when I write what is actually going on, when I write what happened a few days ago I just write the date of the day I am writing.

Anyway, I was trying to deepen on the subject but Adam's constant intromissions don't let me concentrate.

WHY DO WE FOLLOW THE PATHS WE DO?

What compells us to choose one over the other? To choose one street to get home and not another? To have a baby instead of following a major? To leave a safe paid job for an uncertain career in teaching independently? In my case I'm positive it is not out of survival. Nearly a century ago this poem was written:

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

1. The Road Not Taken

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The only problem is you can only tell what path was better when you die.

However I'm still alive, let's say in the middle of my road. Sometimes I'm sure I made the right decisions, sometimes I wonder what would have happened if or what would happen if. You can always change. Then, when you are about to swerve, something happens that lets you know why you took that path and then you know and things are al right. Sometimes it's time to wait, some times it's time to act and make things happen.

I take my paths compelled by impulse, by a desire to experiment, sometimes to explore, always by adventure, I seldom think, I always accept the consequences although not as easily as it may sound.

THE FUTURE IS NEVER AS WE IMAGINED IT WOULD

Last night I had a nice encounter with myself. It was Ame's birthday party. I felt so alive watching so many young kids for a second I wanted to be so young again. For a second only. Then I witnessed how one of them was walking gracelessly in her high heels. I then saw another girl crying and surrounded by her friends. Then Alma sad, "Look! One of them is crying! What might have happened?" I answered back, "Only one thing could have made her cry now: she broke with her boyfriend." But good thing was in a few minutes they were making up again. I felt happy for being me, for being my age. I know how to walk on high heels for a long time with grace and without having aching feet, I no longer cry for boys, I no longer wake up with shameful pimples on a paty day, I no longer fear what people may say or the future. The future is finally now and it is so much better than I thought it would be.

I know, being divorced doesn't sound like the ideal future. Being apart from someone who hurt me badly is. Being able to pick my life where I left it is. Being able to know I walked through the fire and came from the ashes is. Being able to see my daughter dancing gracefully and happily all night is. Knowing that life does NOT end at 40 is great! Knowing that there is love after love is. Knowing that I can have a one night stand and no parent is going to kill me is. Being able to come home at 1.00 and saying, "Oh, it's still early, I need Mau" is. Having my own flat is. Deciding how to spend my own money is. Writing here instead of doing home chores is. Knowing Sean loves me across the ocean and knowing he's coming some day is! Having been afraid of last night and having had the guts to go and having come out gloriously is! Having been able to cross the room to say good-night to Rafael is. Having locked myself in the bathroom to dance wildly is!

Certainly this is not the future I had expected, this is so much better!

GRAMMAR, PHILOSOPHY OR PSYCHOLOGY?

A subject might be an object and otherwise depending on where they are.

12 DE OCTUBRE NO SE OLVIDA..

Y no por el descubrimiento que hizo Colón.

THE COMPULSIVE MIND

How can I stop thinking, when all I want to do is sleep!?

AWARENESS

I was writing and suddenly I knew.

WHAT IS FORGOTTEN AND WHAT IS REMEMBERED

Having such an ego as mine it is frustrating to read a poem about reminiscense and knowing I might be there but not because the title says so: memories of some but not all of them. It tortures me knowing I was important and I might have been forgotten and at the same time, I feel terribly selfish and mean because I know I mean so much for some who at the same time mean so much for me. Once Carrie Bradshaw said, "Why do we worry for what we don't have?" or something like that. If I have so many blessings in my life: freedom, health, exercise, time, my writing, friends, family that cares, a wonderful and loving boyfriend, why should I worry for a daughter that ocassionally remembers I exist, an ex-boyfriend who writes criptic poetry that might include me...? I guess it's a matter of ego.

It's clear I can't remember what I have forgotten because it is forgotten, I only rememebr when I read my past diaries. I know things that used to hurt me don't hurt anymore and that is great.

Maybe what I share with this mean poet is the desire to be immortal through memory, through having etched such an important impact in his memory that I won't die after I have left this world.

2 DE OCTUBRE NO SE OLVIDA

Eso escribían en la pared de la esquina en la casa de Observatorio, muy cerca de la Prepa 4 que tenía los recuerdos más tangibles: los hoyos de los balazos que una serie de monigotes dispararon contra estudiantes hace ya 41 años, "obedeciendo órdenes" de un imbécil que todavía llegó a ser presidente de nuestra República. No entiendo cómo estas cosas pueden haber pasado. ¿En qué cabeza cabe que matar estudiantes por conservar el orden iba a dejar a México bien como país bajo control ante los visitantes en los juegos Olímpicos? ¿Cómo puede ser que la gente creyera,

--Ah qué bien controla este dientón a sus muchachos, los mata para que no hagan desorden, muy bien. ¡O sea! ¿Qué tenía en la cabeza? Lo mismo que el ass hole que mata a su esposa porque no es buena consorte para un político y espera llegar a ser presidente. Lo único que el 2 de octubre no olvida es que los asesinatos por poder, por control, son idiotas, no convencen a nadie que el mejor modo de gobernar es asesinar.

WHY I DON'T USE SEX TOYS

Easy: I am a skin fan. I like its smell, its temperature changes, its touch, its appearance, its salty taste. I like flirting with words, with gestures, with glances. I like hands sliding over my curves, exploring, looking with fingers. I like the weight of a body on top of me. I like myself heaving against another. I like all the sweat, the heat, the warmth, the shivering of the whole process. I like the slow movements and how step by step, subtly they increase their speed until unleashing a wild animal. I like feeling the maleness growing, thickening, hardening against my tighs, into me. And then I like how it grows tired and rests caressingly on my tummy. I like the sound of water flushing while I'm still warm in bed. I like how he gets colder and shivers and seeks my warmth, how he embraces me, not wanting to let the feeling go. I like men beside me growing old and young and then their real age again. I love feeling like the queen of whores.