Personal Reaction:

“Feeding our students at school is all right, but let`s also teach them so that tomorrow they`ll be able to feed by themselves”. This is one of the quotations that mostly shocked me in the lecture that Doctor Guillermo Jaim Etcheverry gave on Tuesday night. I have to admit that before that presentation I didn`t know anything about him and his work, and yet, the lecture was available for people of all ages, cultural and economical groups. I think that everybody could easily follow his ideas and comments.
As I see it, the use of a story that, just by imaginating is funny and nonsense, was a great way to open his speach. Doctor Etcheverry talked about different aspects of a same problem, and in many ocassions he made the public realize of the bitter reality that we face and, what`s worse, are used to.
Another thing that I really liked were the implementation of studies and their results. When he mentioned them, he didn`t used fancy words, or gave extra information that could make someone get lost. On the contrary, there was also a kind of a summary to simplify what he wanted to say.
Regarding his ideas, I agree with most of them, but I also think that it`s really difficult to apply the traditional methods in order to teach, because, by doing this, we put ourselves against a whole system that doesn`t have the slightlest conviction of doing so. Anyway, that`s the only aspect of his lecture that I found naive and quite difficult to achieve.
The rest of his ideas, though, made me opened my eyes constantly. While I was there I couldn`t help thinking of my 15 year-old niece,who needs me to “explain” to her in a simple language what her zodiac sign is about. That really frightened me. The good news is that Etcheverry gave the audience some tools that, for the time being, I`m eager to apply to my young family members.

Little brother:

I`ve been thinking a lot about you these days. Lots of memories come to me full of images of both of us. Do you remember those times? We used to play instead of taking a nap. I would tell you silly jokes and you would laugh with heart and soul. Those were magical times, in which I was your heroine, your friend, your partner of adventures. We were inseparable, remember? But then we grew up, and everything got cold and distant. We went through some difficult situations at different levels. I know that the death of our loved aunt stroke and affected you in a way that changed you completely. We were supossed to be together, but we failed at that so much! I know that I should have been there to protect you and tell you that everything would be all right, but instead, I was only worried about mom. I devoted all my time and energy in trying to pull her out of that hole in which she had fallen, and I forgot about you. On top of that, you weren`t helpful either: your actions dissapointed us and we felt that you abbandoned us just when we needed you the most. Inside me, a strong feeling of remorse against you made me change my attitude towards you.
Suddenly, time flew, and all the time I thought I would have to make things better was gone. You are a 22 year-old man, who have changed for good in many aspects but in others not. I wish you were closer to me and mom. We need of your support, and I personaly need of you as my brother. I know for a fact that we`ll never be best friends, and that`s ok with me, but if we could change, if we were just a little bit more flexible with each other...
Yesterday, when I was at home alone, I was thinking of you when the idea that you might hate me made me cry with actual pain in my heart. I know that one of the things that you dislike the most about me is how serious and annoying I can be regarding the housework and other issues. I`m sorry I`m such a pain in the ass, but I can`t help it. You and I see everything with different eyes.
Many times I see you and I have the need to hug you and tell you how much you mean to me, but I`m lack of courage, and I simply stay there.
I really wish things were different between us. If only you knew how much I need you. I wonder, is there still any hope for us? Only God knows.


I wrote these lines perfectly knowing that my brother won`t read them, but I did it anyway `cause I wanted to share all this that I feel with someone.

Complicated people:

There is a kind of person that scares me. The person who mistreats others, just to feel themselves strong, or intelligent, or superior. People like that make me feel so insecure and weak, that I just try to escape. I`m not interesting in hanging out with people who find shouting at someone amusing. Humilliating others make them believe they are special characters that can`t be judged by anyone, simply because no one will dare... poor little things that go through life lost, inmersed in their own fears and myseries, unable to trust in the person next to them.
All of us have bad days and rough periods, and nobody can say that he/she had successfully avoided them, but there is a huge difference between an isolated situation like that, and making of it a whole habit!
Another thing that I hate is having to comfront them (as a matter of fact, I don`t do it at all, I just run!). In case I don`t have other choice but to stand in front of them, there is always a terrible scenario in my head: I`m very little –almost an insect- and my counterpart huge, monumental, scaring, about to eat me... all I can think of is how long will that torture take, until the “master” decides that he/she is done with me and asks for the next victim. I know what you are thinking and you are right: I have a serious problem with those people.
I wonder, is there any solution for a person like that? What is it that gives them so much power anyway? Is it their position at work or their experience in life that alouds them to behave in that horrible way? Maybe they just do it for the sake of turning other people`s life into a living hell. Well, whatever the secret element is, let`s take it away from them, for they are dangerous. Seriously, the only objective in life of people like these is to to ruin our existance. Let`s get together and do something, for Christ`s sake!

future in the past:

the other night Iwas listening to my old but loved CD´s when I found one by No Doubt.
I played it and my voice could easily follow the lyrics. thanks to that, I could infer that my memory still works.
one of the songs in the album is called "simple kind of life". it talks about the regrets that singer experiments after a broke up. there is an interesting line there that says: "if we met tomorrow for the very first time, would it start all over again?, would I try to make you mine?"
I kept thinking on that line, and its content. then I sat in silence and I tried to focused on the words. then I arrive to a conclusion: leaving the romantic perspective aside (whici I´m not interested in, today), the issue for me could be: given tha chance to know and see the future, what would be our attitude like?
I mean, day after day we complain of our lives and the pathetic way we live them. how many times have we wished to be able to see the future in order to avoid making mistakes that hurt us and others so much? life would be really easier if we had that precious advantage. but wuold it be better?
the answer is, of course, not only personal but also subjective. on many ocassions the results wolud be so different with that slight but crucial power.
however, there are other times, when it´s nice to see and live every new day as a complete ignorant, finding new paths in the map of life; recognizing new faces among thousands of them; exploring new possibilities in this game called life that can be as safe as dangerous.

winter break

every time we come back from holidays is that question: "did you enjoy your holidays?". and always the same honest and direct answer: " at least I´ve survived!"
since I can remember, holidays have always been a problem to me I suppose it has to do with all tha extra (too much?) free time that I have, and which I haven´t learnt to deal with.
however, these last holidays have been completely different. I was able to organize my life in a productive way. therefore, I could go on with thew daily house chores (that will never, ever end, by the way), my teaching practice (an amazing experience), and I had time to think.
the good news is that I didn´t think in the same destructive way that I always do: this time I made a supreme and worthtaking effort and, to my delight, I found out that not everything has to be dark and gloomy. but don´t get me wrong, I do like to be dark and gloomy! it´s just that it was nice to realize that if I want to change I can do it .
during these weeks I saw myself bearing in mindthat this could be the appropiate time to do it. a perfect opportunity to discover, evaluate and add new pieces of me.
i´m not gonna say that I´m happy, but at least I´m in peace with myself, and such a sensation cannot be wrong!

Nonsense III

she forced me to be someone I didn´t want to be. since the day number one, she put me in a situation that didn´t allow me to think clearly. this intruder showed up out of nowhere, and never went away.
even when I refuse to do it, I cannot help seeing her. everywhere I go, this cgharacter is hidden. ready to attack me. ready to use my weakness as her weapon of death.
this is a professional that we are talking about. someone who has forced me to get apart from my family and friends.
she has managed herself to settle distractions araound me. I cannot let her win, but I cannot help it, either.
up to now, I still don´t know, or understand why did I let her in. how could I´ve been so stupid, so naiv and blind not to see what was going on?
I just want this crazy nightmare to end. I want to erase it from earth. will I be able to do it? is just the dessire of something sufficient? I wish I had answers to these questions that never stop. I wish I could.

frustration it is, then

have you ever experimented frustration? I have, and let me tell you, it´s not nice. when I´m frustrated I feel as if thousands of ghosts came to me laughing, screaming and whisteling a stupid tune. at those ocassions, the only thing I can think of is "I´m not gonna be able to do this, this is too much for me". I always make the biggest effort to scare those evil thoughts away, but it´s never enough... this state of degradation against myself is usually accompained by a stron feeling of guilt and remorse. I don´t know why, but I always commit the same stupid mistake: I don´t aloud myself to feel sad when things don´t turn out as I expect them to be. of course the situation is unbearable, but I think that if I were just a bit more flexible, I wouldn´t take that long in solving the issues that drove to the mentioned problem.
I feel like I´m in a damned maze and I can´t get out. I want to get out, but I just can´t.

he and she

the woman looked around, looking for an explanation that no one dared to give. at first she thought that it was a nightmare, that the situation was unreal and impossible. but it wasn´t. her husband had benn killed. over his flat chest there was a stain of blood that eventually got bigger. the woman stayed by his side, captured by that shocking image, unable to say a word. her thoughts were coming and going faster than the speed of sound. dizziness took posession of her small body, that now seemed more fragile than ever.
the people around were in silence. each of them thought the same: this was a time to make company, not questions. despite the moment was unbearable, the woman needed that: silence to remember. she has tears on her face. tears that spoke by themselves. this man, her loving husband, the one who had made her happy has gone for ever.
suddenly, the widow made an effort to order her thoughts and ideas, and evoke happier moments. moments that, of course, had to do with her husband. her other half.
slowly, the people began to leave. after a few minutes the only bodies present in that night were he and she.

Nonsense II

24 years old...scared...lonely...eager to love and be loved...narrow streets...happy people everywhere...faces that don´t look familiar...peace...a tall boy...sad face... wrong feelings...stupid anguish...day after day...sadness....serious emptiness...the same boy again...a waste of time...seduction...a crazy game...I´m lost...mortal devastation...a professional pretender...chronic illness...my heart hurts...black fantasies...faith...eyes full of rage...eyes that judge me...red water...I´m drowning...oh, inevitable and bitter truth... I LOVE YOU.......

Sarah, the queen of wisdom.

Sarah was confused, if not scared. for years her wisdom had helped people from everywhere. her fame was as big as real. the woman was able to tell people their future just by looking at them, but now, something was wrong. really wrong. Sarah had lost her faith: the weapon with which she helped everybody had gone.
she didn´t know why, or for how long would that terrible sensation stay. one thing was for sure, though; it was akward to tell people to believe and have faith if she herself couldn´t do it.
poor Sarah tried everything to get her faith back. she read the Bible, she prayed, and yet she didn´t manage to solve her problem.
of course, little by little people stopped coming, until one day no one asked Sarah for advice. the old woman got sick and it was obvious that her end was inevitable.
one night, Sarah had a dream: ahe was at the beach, wearing a long white dress. her feet enjoyed the refreshing sensation that only sand gives and her white hair was taken by the soft wind. suddenly, Alah came to her. He was huge: a majestuous and perfect being sorrunded by light.
Sarah stayed still, unable to articulate a word: her Lord was in front of her! finally, the woman was urged to say- I ´ve been looking for you.
- I know it, Sarah- ,was the answer.
she told Alah what was her problem, and the devastating effect that it had had on her life. Alah listened patiently, smiling and nodding ocassionally. when the woman finished explaining her problem, the Lord said: -You haven´t lost your faith, Sarah.
- But my dear Lord, I´m telling you it´s gone!- said the woman with tears on her cheeks.
Alah smiled once more. -Listen to me. your faith has grown inside you since the moment you decided to follow my steps. therefore, it won´t go anywhere, unless...-, he stopped.
-Unless what? asked Sarah.
-Unless you aloud it.
-But that´s impossible! I´d never do that to you my Lord. I mean, an average person, maybe, but me? my wisdom ´d make me realize about my mistake and..
-That´s exactly the problem. don´t you see, woman, that your wisdom has interfired with your faith to the point of diminish it?
remember that you are wise only because you believe in me and as a consecuence have been blessed with this gift.
-But...
-Look. you have spent all your life telling people what to do and giving them advice. Now listen to the advice of this one that is speaking to you: look inside you, for your faith is still there. Hurry up, because it won´t be alive much longert if you don´t find it and heal it. look inside, Sarah, look for your faith.
With those last words the image dissapeared anbd the dream came to its end.
during the followingt weeks her condition was the same, until one day she wake up, feeling better than ever in her life.
eveybody asked Sarah to tell them what had happened, and how did she get better. however, her answer was always the same. -I´ll just tell you that I had to make a long trip, and that in the end I was able to find my priceless treasure.
-What treasure is that?- they would ask.
-A treasure that will never go away again.

released thoughts:

If I had the courage I would tell you what I feel. I would go to your house, ring the bell and wait for you to come out. I would smile at you, and then I would just say those words that have been in my mind for almost a year: I love you.
I love you more that you can imagine. More than I can tolerate. I deeply love you. I keep a secret with me that I´m dying to make public. N o one knows, but I think of you all the time. my head is full of annoying bees that work all day long wiyhout resting, taking the nectar of love. If I dare to make them go, they´ll be fiurious at me. they´ll throw me stings full of poison. the piposon of love. That sweet poison that I´m used to, and that provokes a slow pain. you are my poison. you are my reason to be alive.

two strangers:

every day they do the same. they get up, have breakfast, and go to their jobs. He is a lawyer. She is a teacher. By midday both of them are free and could go home, but they create excuses that avoid their coming back. A friend who needs someone to talk to, paper work at the office, the car doesn´t work, etc.
Finally, once thay have made use od that wide range of excuses that each of them hides, they don´t have other choice but to go home. The couple arrive with a difference of some minutes. They look at their faces just once, and they think that will do.
She prepares dinner quickly. the plates are set at the extremes of the long table, and a gigantic and obsene flower pot complements that separation. They have dinner in silence. she knows that in ten minutes he´ll get up and go straight to bed. She´ll take a bit longer. once they are in bed the woman closes her sad eyes and remembers better and distant times. how tender her husband was; the quality of communion and understanding that has been with them for years. Soon she´ll cry, releasing drops of salty flavour that don´t heal anything. Her husband knows it. He feels the same that she does, but he doesn´t want to think about it any longer. He has given up a long time ago.
Their passion is now only a souvenier from happier years when they were a unit. now, the remains of that beautiful relationship are nothing but ashes that flow in the air. It will be a new day soon. a new opportunity they won´t take. A new beginning thast will be thrown away. these two strangers that work as perfect machines have no feelings left, and they know it. What´s worse, they accept their dramatic destiny.

Puppies (a silly, silly poem)

your arrival was totally unexpected.
a surprise that delighted us.
how not to be happy with 6 lovely dogs!
you recognize my whistle whereever you are
the way you run is a reason to laugh.
you trust me since the beginning.
every day I meet you at the backyard.
I place myself on the floor,
and you look for the protection of my arms.
we play for a while,
until you fall asleep on my arms.
your breath is soft.
your little bodies are so relaxed.
and I wonder: are you dreaming about something?
what is it that you see in your dreams?
coloues, maybe shapes?
but we cannot keep you.
I have to give you away.
I´m already suffering.
I only hope that you find a nice home.
I´ll miss you so much!
little puppies, I love you.
please my dear puppies, don´t forget me.
I won´t forget you. I promise.

Happiness? 1/2 kilo, please.

Remember I told you about my experience during this last holidays? Well, one of the things I discovered is that I CANNOT PRETEND TO BE HAPPY ALL THE TIME.
How did I grt to this amazing and breathtaking conclusion? Not by myself, as you imagine. I had the chance to read some of Jorge Bucay´s ideas (I told you about him before, remember?). Well, he wrote some tales that had a punctual objective: to make the reader place those stories in their mind and think. And that´s exactly what I did.
I was in the beginnings of my tormentuos teenagehood, when I was invaded for the first time by a feeling of emptiness. I´m sure that it had come before, but now I was conscious of it. I assumed that it would go away eventually, but it didn´t, and I ended up inmersedin the eternal search of happiness.
I wanted to feel happy so much, that it quickly became an obsession. however, I didn´t know (or remember) wht happiness was or felt like. I was only sure of one thing: happiness was represented by all the things that I´m lack of. What a positive thought, ha?
Fortunatelly, I had plenty of time to think and I could clearly see that life, in general terms, is full of good and bad moments, days, phases that will dissapear, and which will be replaced by beter or worse ones. I looked over my shoulder and I see just how pathetic I´ve been, always complaining about my life, always with a hideous "but" at the tip of my tongue...
Luckily, now I´m applying a new and constructive way to see and accept things. Before this I couldn´t appreciate all what I have: a beautiful, big, crazy family; amazing friends who accept me for who I am; the presence of my mom (key element of my existance), and even more.
Ifinally understood that happiness is one of the most subjective things on earth, and that not feeling it all the time doesn´t turn me into a lower human being.
Iwrote this for a number of reasons: I want to share this discovery (that I consider to be very important) that I´ve experienced with the ones who know me and care about me. Part of this transformation is due to my lovely friends and classmates (thank you, guys!).
but I also wrote it because I´m sure that it will come a day, sooner or later, when all this espectacular sensation of selfconfidence will vanish for a while, just because, and new doubts will arise. I just want to be prepare enough to face it and to know that THAT, WILL ALSO GO AWAY.

rage against the machine (hell yeah!)

come in and see, ladies and gentlemen, you won´t regret it. forget about the old-fashioned circuss with just a few animals, or fun fairs that don´t produce the slightest emotion any longer.
if you are a tourist looking for something new, exciting and, most of all, unique, then Argentina Corporation is your choice.
What can we offer to you? Only the best, or the worst, you choose.
our politicians, for example, have been carefully selected from universities that have the best teachers. these honorable men and women can assure people that things are not getting more and more expensive, that it´s just their imagination. They can also literally tell the police to shoot and kill dangerous teachers who are fighting for their rights.
these "characters" are so wise that they found unusual places where to put the money they earn with so much sacrifice: a bathroom or the trunck of a car are some of them. regarding their transport, it´s nothing less than luxurious: Ferraris and helicopters for special ocassions.
Wait, don´t go yet! Before you throw up out of disgust, let me tell you about our national and most representative sport: FOOTBALL.. We are lucky to have professional footbll players who go to jail full of presents for their favourite "barrabravas". Besides, there are people who are so obssesed with their teams that they organize fights to prove their passion, but don´t worry: if there is a death is only accidental.
So now you know it: if you are a tourist eager to come to our country to show us how to clean a square, don´t miss your chance!
Hurry up! Bying your ticket now you get a hug from the Zar Joey Alperovich for free!!!
For more information, go to http://www.icannotbelievethisf...country.com/, now.

The encounter:

The door opened slowly. The woman waited under the morning sun patiently, and only dared to give a step when she saw her confidence reflected on her doctor´s eyes. He put his cold hand on Rita´s cheek. This gentile caress made her react. After five years and endless treatments she was about to see the beauty of liberty. Behind her remained all the bad memories and the shadows that put her in that place. Now, Rita was a different woman, and she couldn´t wait to let the world know it. The woman turned around for the last time, just to see the doctor waving at her. Suddenly ahe had a feeling: yes, Lucio was there. She put the small suitcase on the floor and when he approached she spread out eager hands with which she looked for the face of her lover. The one who had stayed by her side during this difficult time. He smiled at her and kissed her lips. First softly, and then full of the passion that only true lovers are able to express. Rita was happy. Now everything would be OK again. There was nothing to fear and she knew it, ´cause that´s what he transmitted through his look. They walked slowly, together, speechless, just smiling, thinking of all the things they haven´t say to each other. For a moment Rita felt an axelaration in her heart, but then she calmed down. There would be enough time to say all what they wanted. Again the beating. On the one hand she was tempted to look back, but on the other she was afraid that this could have been a dream, and that she would wake up in her bedroom, alone. Lucio loved and knew this fragile woman so much that he guessed what she was thinking. He stopped and turned around together with Rita, to prove her taht it was all right. When she did it she saw the old fence closed, and understood that this was real. With a little, almost unhearable sigh she closed this chapter of her life. A chapter in which her tears and suffering had been the perfect soil in which to plant a new tree of hope and love.
Lucio offered her his strong shoulder and Rita put her head on it confidently.

Untitled:

H: you won´t be able to do it!
S: yes. I will!
H: you´ll chicken out. I know it ´cause I know you well.
S: but you can´t control me. I´m sick of this! This is my life that we´re talking about. I have the right to make my own decisions, so leave me alone!
H: I´ll never leave you alone.we were born together and we´ll die just as one, so you better get used to the idea that I´m the one in charge, and I´m telling you: YOU WON´T DO IT! Besides you don´t even have the guts to leave this room. What? Have you forgotten all the times when you didn´t dare to go out because of me? That proves something, doesn´t it?
S: I don´t care! I know that I can get rid of you and so I will. It´ll be painful, but I will.
H: Try it! I wanna see you trying it. Come on, it´ll be fun. For me!
S: .....
H: and? I´m waiting.
S: .....
H: ha! I knew it! I knew I would win. I always win.

S: SHE
H: HERSELF

Tell me:

Tell me that what I did was wrong, and I´ll go back in time just to fix it.
Tell me that happiness is at the buttom of the sea, and I´ll jump right away.
Tell me to plant a tree in the middle of the desert, and I´ll be there, day and night, waiting for it to grow.
Tell me to stop it, and I´ll listen to you.
Tell me to climb the highest mountain for you, and next time you see me I´ll be there.
Tell me to be with you, and you´ll see me beside you ´till the last of your days.
Tell me whatever you want and I´ll do it, I´ll believe it. But tell me not to love you anymore and Iwon´t get it. Simple as that; I will not understand it. Please, don´t you ever tell me that. Please.

Nonsense

I can´t breath..I want to move, but I´m stucked in here. Smile. If you smile no one will notice that you are dying. No, I can´t. I need some air. Oh, great! There´s a window there. Air! But I have to cross the room to get it. OK. this is easy. I know what I´ll do: I´ll count ´till 30. No, wait, 35 is better. One, two, three... oh! He saw you. Smile. Wave your hand. Like that. OK, he´s looking at someone else now. Go on. Where did I stop?did I say two or three? No, this isn´t working. The music is too loud. I can´t think. Oh, God I need air. OK. I got it: if I see 5 guys wearing a black sweater I´ll stand up and leave.let´s see: there´s one there, two more here, four, no wait. That sweater isn´t entirely black. Does it count?no, it doesnt. OK. one, two, three... three... I´m thirsty. Look at this people. How can they be so happy? There´s nothing to be happy about and yet they dance, talk and laugh. It´s a relief that they aren´t paying attention on me. Anyway, I can´t stand up. If I do it, they´ll notice me and the party will be over because of my fault. I don´t want that to happen. I wish I could be invisible, but I´m not. I want to go home. I want to take out this ridiculous outfit. I don´t get it: why did I come in the first place? What for? I´m so stupid!!! I hate this and I can hardly breath. I have to go NOW. Come on, it´ll be easy. We´ll do it together. Ready? OK. just let me count:35, no more than that. One, two, three.......

Me, me, me:

Hi, my name´s Ana. I´m 23 years old and I share my body with a strange. It´s myself, but it really is a strange to me. Many of the things I´ve written are due to her, and to our constant fights. She has been inside me since I can remember, talking, whispering, ordering me. Most of the times she has been my number one enemy, always willing to make me fall. Well, Ihad fallen too many times and today I´m tired. Really tired. I don´t want to write, to talk, to convince her to go away, not even to think. I want it to be over. I´m incomplete without her, ´cause she´s the BOSS, and I´m so miserable with her, ´cause she rules.
Seriously, I want it to come to an end. And I don´t care if it is a happy one or a tragic one, I just need it to go away. Please, go. Please, go.

It´s a great day (finally!)

What a lovely day is today. I woke up with the first caresses of the sun on my face, and I got up immediately. The sun´s shining so much that I decided to sit at my backyard while I´m writing these lines. What a great sensation is to feel the power of the sun on your back! A sunny day in Winter is something priceless and each animal, plant and object on earth seems to know it. I look at the plants that are being blessed by the king of the sky. It gives me the impression that they´ll start dancing under the golden rain. And the poor ones which are still in shadows wait impatiently for their turn. Nobody wants to miss the show, not even my dog: she walks in circles, slowly, looking for a good place. Finally she chooses the same that I did. She lays at my feet. I laugh because from time to time she looks above, her eyes closed. It hurts her eyes to see the sun so directly, but I think she can´t help it. Neither can I. I feel tempted and I look at it just once more. After all, who can assure that we´ll have a beautiful day like this soon?
I´m in the house now. The difference of temperature is obvious, but just as a battery I have renewed my energies for the rest of the day. Now I´ll focus on my mom: she´s making breakfast while she whistles an old song. I convince her to go out with me only for a couple of minutes and she accepts. The moment she goes out she hurries to put her laborious hand at her forehead, in order to protect herself from the sun. Once she gets used to it my mom looks at me, smiles and tell me what a good idea would be to have breakfast there.
In a couple of hours the presence of the sun will be nothing but a souvenir. All of us, the plants and flowers, my dog, my mom and me will be looking forward to see it again tomorrow.
Tomorrow there´ll be something new to thank for.

It´s raining:

Do you like when it rains? I love it. I love the smell of wet land. This is a universal and particular smell that always makes me think the same: I´m sttill in this world.
I don´t know why, but if it rains I have the necessary strength to go out, and I feel safe. Yeah, I know what you are thinking: it´s weird, but what the hell, my whole life is weird!
When it rains I feel the blessing of God over me. I usually llok for any excuse that will allow me to go out and I walk under the rain slowly, without the protection of an umbrella. What do I need one for if I don´t want to prevent water from touching me?
On rainy days my favourite moment of the day is the morning. I wake up earlier than usual and after I´m done with the housework and the homework, I allow myself to enjoy of this wet day. Sometimes I choose a book to read or I take out my old puzzles. Music is another important elemant when it rains.
I know that many people hate rainy days, but I can´t help loving them. Life seems to be so easy when it rains, don´t you think so? I hope that whoever reads this doesn´t some at the conclussion that I´m an idiot. I mean: I am an idiot, but for other reasons, and not for seeing beauty in the rain.

I know it, dear friend:

When you gave me the news this evening I didn´t say a word. I know that you expected me to say something but I couldn´t. I got home, took a bath and went to bed. I tried to get some sleep, but your face appeared each time. After an hour and useless attempts to fall asleep I decided to get up and go to the living room. There I am now. It´s 3.25 and I´m writing these words ´cause I want them to get out of my head. I wish I could stick them to the paper forever.
I know you are scared and so am I, but quitting is not a good option and you know it well. I understand how tired you are and how insecure this whole situation makes you feel, but if you give up now you´ll live with the guilt for the rest of your life. I know you too good to sense that.
If only I could tell you that everything will be better tomorrow, but I don´t do it ´cause even if I wanted, I cannot promise you things that are out of my reach; out of our reach.
Look, if this is the way you want to end the entire path you have walked so long i´ts fine with me, but what about you? Come on, be honest. You just need to give yourself a second chance to start over. Everyone does it at least once in their lives so prove it you too. What do you have to loose?
Dear friend, I only want you to realize of the big mistake you are committing here. No one said it was going to be easy ´cause it isn´t, but you are not alone. There are many people around you waiting for the opportunity to help you, if you let them...
I´m your friend, I love you and I´m willing to walk along at your side. If you allow me to be there with you I´ll do anything, but please, trust me. we can do it together.
Remember: it´s difficult, not impossible.

Happy weekends:

At weekends my family multiplies and gets loudly. My nieces and nephew arrive and stay until Monday morning. I try to spend as much time as possible with them.
Sometimes we decide to go down town; the day chosen is usually a Saturday evening. The objective of the visit may be to do the monthly shopping, or just to walk. Now, each f them has a different interest, so I force myself to be fair with the time devoted to each one.
For my nephew, Agustín, “Game Zone” and some shopping windows from the biggest toyshops in Tucumán are enough to make him happy. He pays special attention at some action dolls and explains me how they work. We start walking and he puts his tiny hands on the window, and opens his eyes as if he wanted to save the images in his memory.
My youngest niece loves watching at the gentil living statue or the man who imitates Michael Jackson at the pedestrian area. In a moment Sabrina´ll turn around to ask me who is the guy imitating and I´ll give her the same answer as usual. I must be careful, though, ´cause she always asks for some coins to give them.
My other niece, Andrea, likes the things that all the girls of her age do. That is cellphones, and the “47 street” shop.
You don´t need me to tell you that rarely do we buy some of the things they like so much, they are just great, and accept the limitations that the lack of money generates.
Sundays are lived differently. In most of the occasions we go to the park, especially to the lake area. the passion of Agustín is fishing, so we prepare everything (mate included, of course) and once we are ready the journey begins. We live quite close to the lake so we usually walk. When we got to the place the roles are taken. Everybody knows what to do: the girls put in an strategic location the fabric on which we´ll sit. My mom and I take out the things we have brought and my nephew... is quite busy preparing his fishing line! Now we wre ready to enjoy of the lovely afternoon.. we talk, tell jokes, zip mate and cheer at Agus when he finally catches a fish.
I may be in the middle of a difficult, long week, but I always know that the weekend is near, and that we´ll enjoy it in family.

Fourth year, then what?

Here I am. Finally the last year has come. Hopefully, in a couple of months I´ll be able to teach, but wii I really be able to teach?
During the last months many things have gone through my mind. I´m at a point where I constantly ask myself questions for which I don´t have the answers, like for example if I chose the right carreer, if my future students will learn something from me, if what I have learnt so far still remains in me, and so on...
Maybe what I feel is a mixture of fears. In the first place my biggest fear is not to be good enough at teaching. In the second place it also worries me not to find a job, and of course, then is the issue of the cruel competence at work!
I don´t know if experimenting this awful sensation is common, but I hate it. I doubt of each thing that I do and it gets worse in the classroom.
The strangest thing that has happened to me lately is that in class I have the strong sensation that I´m dreaming. Now I don´t know if this is so because of tiredness or because I´m all the time focused on what´s coming up soon. Every time I hear the words professionals, degree, or future I feel fear. I had tried to talk about this with my friends, but they are more exited than me about the end of this year. I know, and appreciate their intentions, but I guess I´m waiting for someone to tell me what I don´t dare to say, using the words that I don´t dare to use.
Whatever is the case, I hope it goes away qhickly. If there´s something I´m sure of in this life is my love for teaching.

Faces:

We look at faces everyday, at all times. I get on the bus and I see them. I get off, and there are some more. The streets are full of anonimous faces. Some are nice, and remind me of someone familiar. Some others just call my attention for no reason, but they make me company until they are gone from my eyes and replaced by new ones. I´m used to see faces, but when I saw yours, I saw something different. Your eyes were brown, wide open and with long eyelashes. Your mouth was a little open, and I think you were singing some melody. You were coming directly to where I was, and suddenly you saw me. I think you smiled and I simply got unable to keep on walking. I knew that you wanted me to move, but I couldn´t, I don´t know why. You put your hand softly on my arm and I reacted. As part of my apologise I smiled too, but I felt a blush on my face and I started to walk quickly, almost running.
I turned around just to see if by any chance you were still looking at me, but you weren´t. In fact, it took me a while to locate you again, this time lost in the middle of the crowd.
Then I understand that I had meant to you the same that all these unfamiliar faces mean to me everyday. I wish you knew that I haven´t forgotten you since. I wish you knew that you are not an anonimous face to me.

Panic (also at the disco!)

Have you ever felt this? I have. I remember the first time I felt it. Five years ago my friends have decide to go out a lovely evening in Summer. The weather was great and I hadn´t seen them in a while, so I was unxious for our encounter. I got off the bus, trying to organize in my mind all the things I wanted to tell them. As I was walking I started to feel that my legs shaked. I smiled at first for that unusual sensation, but soon it became awful: Ididn´t have control of my body, and I thought that I would faint. I checked my hands and they were very palid, almost white. My heart beated fast, I could hardly breath and I had the impression that all the people in the streets had stopped to see me. I continued walking without knowing exactly where to, and when I got to where my friends were waiting, they looked at me and realized, without much that something wrong has going on. I stutterned an explanation and they helped me sit on a banch. After a couple of minutes it dissapeared and I felt better.
Since then, I have lived again this experience, and I figured out what was about only a couple of years ago.
My mom has asked me many times to describe to her what is it that I feel when I have a panic attack, and I say that I could summarize it in one word: panic. I feel the lost of reality, and the lost of control. Whenever I have this, I want to go home inmediately, ´cause I think that there I´ll be safe. I always tend to look for a familiar face that ´ll soothe me, but it never appears, and so I get worse.
I cannot still understand what is the reason of these attacks, that from time to time get quite severe. I cannot predict where or when or with who I´ll get the symptoms that I´m so afraid of. I can only assure that this problem has made my life more complicated and caotic. Most of the times I think it more than twice before saying “yes” to an invitation to go out. I´m afraid that I´ll have an attack at any moment, and that freakings me out.
Therapy hasn´t been of much help for the time being, but I hope that one day I´ll get rid of this desease that takes control of my life when it shows up. Living like this is not living at all, trust me.

Last night:

Last night you approached to where I was and just by seeing you all my problems dissapeared. You brought with you a fresh air that stayed with me for hours.
Last night I saw you; you were standing in front of me, with that eternal smile on you: that charming and faithful smile that invites me to tell you anything, knowing that you´ll understand me, and that you wont judge me.
Last night we took a walk, but this time words weren´t necessary. At a point our fingers made contact accidentally and you looked at me. Witha soft gesture you told me it was allright and then you took my hand. I felt that I was in heaven. It was something so intense that I felt happiness for the first time in years. We continued walking a little more until we got to my place. Again, we didn´t say a word. We just looked at each other, helped by the light of a gorgeous moon which acted as witness and accomplise of our encounter.
I could have told you how much I love you, but instead I remained silent. I don´t know if I got scared or if I simply didn´t want to spoil such a magical moment. Last night I understood that there is someone in my life who makes me feel that nothing is impossible , and that happiness is asking to be admited again i want to let it
come in, but... Is this a worthtaking risk? No one can answer me that, of course, so I´ll just follow my instincts and see, ´cause only time´ll say, don´t you think so?

Home:

There are some material things that I miss from past times, but the one that Imostly miss is my home. Because of economical reasons my family decided that the best thing to do was to rent it and so we did. The people who are living there are very nice and have made some great improvements to the house, but that doesn´t make me feel better. My home has witnessed happy celebrations that brought joy and laugh to the house. In the same way, it has also lived together with us the many defeats that as a family we have under gone.
I always think of my bedroom and all the secrets it hides. That “sanctuary” saw the changes that took place in my life
There I cried for nights thinking of the boy I loved, or of that failure in my exam. In my bedroom I discovered the music that now I simply cannot live without and how it was assimiliated by the walls: first, posters of the Backstreet Boys ( shame on me!!!) which were changed later on by lyrics from The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Foo Fighters and Nirvana, just to name a couple. One image that strongely remains in my memory is of me and my mom, zipping mate on the floor while we wachted chapters of “El Chavo”. It was in my bedroom that my first niece gave her first steps, with a lovely smile and big, bright eyes.
I also miss my privacy, something that I don´t have at my actual house. if I wanted to be alone for a while I just had to close the door, so as to let my family know that I needed my own space. I think that if I had known that some day I would have to leave my house I would have taken more advantage of all the moments that I lived there. I know that we´ll be able to come again in any moment, but I have lived many intense things these last years, and it would have been nice to live them at home. At my home. At the place where I feel that I should be.
I don´t mean to be ungretful with this new house, that in fact doesn´t have anything of new, for it´s the house of the family ( the big family). The thing is that, even when I get on well with all the ones who live here, I feel out of place most of the time, and that brings sadness.
I´m looking forward to come home and to have a more normal life in it. I cannot talk about this with anyone, not even with my mom, ´cause I don´t want her to worry, besides, this money we get monthly has given us the opportunity to solve many problems we had, but I can´t help feeling incomplete. I really miss home.

Dad´s letter:

Rebecca had had a bad night. She had dreamed again with that house that frightened her so much, so when she woke up she realized that something bad would happen that day. It was palpable in the air. She went to the kitchen and while she was zipping some coffee, the bell rang. In the mail box, there was a white envelope with her name on it. Now, in other circumstances she would have waited a couple of days to read it, but this time a gut feeling told her to open it inmediately. It was from her father. Rebecca and Daniel ( as she used to call him) had always had a difficult relationship, and for the last three years they haven´t spoken to each other.
The girl sat, made a long and loudly zip of the black drink and started to read. The letter said the following:
“Becca, I don´t know where to start. If you could know that i´ ve been sitting in front of the paper for more tan an hour, just staring ant your name: that beautiful name thot i chose for you when your mom was delivering you. I loved you since the moment your mom told me that a new life was coming to the family. We knew tot you were the last one, so i said to my self that, I´ d take care of you as I hadn´t done it with your brothers. But I was wrong ´cause you were tough, so tough!.
Do you remember that time when we saw the fire works for Christmas ? your brothers were crying and begged me to carry them. And, then I felt a little hand looking for mine: it was you, delighted with the beautiful lights.
I always thought that there´d be a point when you´d fall. It´s not that I wanted you to need me, my child. Maybe that´s the reason why I was so agressive to you; ´cause I hoped to see you cry. You may be thinking what a jurk has my old man been, and probably you´re right. I never understood how to be a good father and I hoped I could learn with you, that you´d teach me how to but I guess you never needed me after all. That´s why I left. I couldn´t help feeling useless all the time. I know that we haven´t spoken in a long while, but I tried. You have to belive me I tried. Now it´s just too late.my life is coming to its end and even though there´s nothing I can do to stop the time I lost, I wrote these words from my heart, just to let you know that I´ve always loved you. Trust me when I said this.
Since the moment I left home there hasn´t been a day in which I didn´t feel regrets for what I did and what I didn´t. I only hope that you can forgiuve your silly old man one day. I prey for that, my little Becca.

Love,
Dad.”
Rebecca read the last lines and by that time her face had adopted a deep expression of sadness and remorse. It took her some minutes to get the strength to look for some paper and a pen. She wrote “Daddy” at the top of the page and her eyes got full of tears. The woman did nothing to stop them and remained in silence, starring at the word she had written for a long while...

Camile:

The black car approached slowly to the main entrance. The engine stopped and the night captured that last sound to make it dissapear quickly. Camile got off and started to walk. Her steps were short and heavy. After a while she got to the place. In front of her, just a graveyard and a gravestone with the name of a man: Neil Johnson, it said; nothing else.
The young woman, who had stayed calm, suddenly lost control. Her fists were very closed and tears started to go down her palid face. Finally, she began to speak: “ He always lied. From the very first moment he saw me, he decided to make af lyeing a whole art. From the simple, everyday things to the most complex ones he never said the truth. He was delighted by seeing my misery, and yet I loved him! God, how could I´ve been so blind to believe in him?
I knew you were hurting me. I knew I was in constant suffering, but I let and helped you destroy me. You took everything I had and turned it into pieces just to save yourself. You did that disgusnting thing only to prove me that you were tougher, didn´t you? Miserable pig, you took my youth and my dreams. I don´t feel anything now. My existance is sosteined only because of my mechanical breathing and a damm heart that keeps on beating. Why did you hurt me that way? I loved you, I lived through you for years and now that you are finally gone, I just don´t know how to do it without you. All these years I only begged for you to dissapear, but I guess I never realized that my life was embraced by yours.
Anyway it´s all over now. I´ve come here to tell you that I´ll go on. I don´t know how, but I´ll find the strength to live again. I refuse to live in the past any longer. So please, please, let me alone. Go off my dreams, go off my nightmares. I gave you everything I had and more. So please, if you ever felt something for me, let me go. I need to start over on my own. I don´t need you anymore, so goodbye. This is the last time I visit you and I hope you do the same. Bye”.
Camile turned around, whiped her tears and left. She walked slowly again, but now with a different feeling. She had to live again. She had to be back in life.

Practico introduction & conclusion of article II

This article is completely autobiographic. It was written by a TV journalist from Lithuania who pretended to be a non- speaking man that had no experience and looked for a job. He contacted an employment agency in London and paid a large sum of money to be given a job. Through the article he talks about the journey, his “roommates”, the jobs he did and the payment.

Joining the immigrant underclass

Introduction:
When I arrived in Hull, it was already dark and the streets empty. But there was no-one at the bus station to meet me and it was getting cold. Before leaving Lithuania, I paid £180 for the promise of work with Focus Staff Limited, a licensed employment agency or gang master, at the minimum wage of £5.35 per hour. I'd also had to hand over £160 to CCCP UK Limited - the middlemen in London - so I was getting angry.
Conclusion:
Luckily for me, it was time to leave and reveal to the agencies that this was part of a BBC investigation. Focus Staff, denied having any involvement with CCCP UK, or underpaying workers said workers were treated fairly and in line with UK employment law. CCCP UK and the Lithuanian agency, ITC, also denied any involvement in illegal activity.
The introduction of the article is quite short; the man describes his arrival to the bus station and even when it isn´t very descriptive, he does describe his feelings and his mood (something that is repeated a few times in the text). He also mentions the weather conditions at that moment so this element, together with the ones already mentioned make of this simple introduction an interesting retale, which invites the reader to continue.

The conclusion seems to be part of a report. While the whole text described a strong experience in another country, the last part of it is very unimpersonal: the writer mentions his actions once he revealed his true identity, and the answers he obtained from those agencies.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/6593469.stm#top

practico:introduction & conclusion of articles

This article is based on the investigation of a news reporter from the BBC, called Rageh Omaar, who was born in the north of Somalia. The aim of Omaar´s investigation was to make a film for the English channel. Through the article the reporter describes the children he interviewed, the reasons why their families sell them, and what are the most common “jobs” these children have.
The world of modern child slavery

Introduction:
Slavery is a word which immediately conjures up very specific images in our minds.
When it is mentioned we tend to think of people, almost always black people; degraded, abused and bound in chains, and we tend to think of such images, and the word slavery itself, as belonging to another era. We do not see slavery as belonging to our world, not as something which is still happening today. Yet the truth is that if William Wilberforce were alive today and he travelled to different parts of the world - not just in Africa, but also in large parts of Asia, the Middle East, South America and even parts of Europe - he would find children living in conditions and circumstances which Wilberforce would understand and which I am sure he would describe as slavery. It is believed there are nearly nine million children around the world today who are enslaved. There are international charters and covenants which try to come to a legal definition of what constitutes slavery. In essence these documents define slavery in the modern world as a situation where a human being and their labour are owned by others, and where that person does not have the freedom to leave and is forced into a life which is exploitative, humiliating and abusive.
Conclusion:
Poverty underlies almost all aspects of the phenomenon of modern child slavery. It is the one issue that most often lies behind the reasons and circumstances they were given up or sold into such conditions. Yet although there has been progress internationally on creating laws and standards aimed at stamping out child slavery, there are still many adults who not only gain from child slavery but believe that they will, in more cases than not, get away with it. Defining what modern slavery is, even finding out the scale of it around the world, is not enough if the practice is not seen to be punished.

In order to introduce the subject of his article, the author appeals to what most of the people in general imagine when they are talked about slavery. The images he makes reference to are many times used by film directors so he counts on our background information to make his statement successful. He also introduces the name of a ----- when he refers to the way in which slavery has spread out, so History is mentioned in a way. The last sentences of the introduction are about how is defined the word slavery now-a-days, and the difficulties that charters and organizations had in order to establish a legal definition to the word itself.
In the conclusion the author recognizes in poverty the most important reason of the selling of children and slavery as its consequence. Therefore he generalizes the main problem of this actual phenomenon. Once again as in his conclusion, Omaar deals with legality, and even though he bounces some positive initiatives from international organizations, he still urges for a quicker and definite solution. While in the introduction of this article slavery is referred to as a word to be defined in legal documents, for the conclusion he takes the same idea, but this time he also evokes to what is to be done in practice in order to stop slavery definitely.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/this_world/6458377.stm#top

The brave ones:

Do you know any brave person? I do. I see them everyday. They are part of my crazy but loving family, they are among my dear classmates and they are present among my friends. Today I want to tell you about a special friend. I met her when I was in first year of high school. By that time I was scared to death in such a huge school, full of noisy people all around. By chance I saw her chatting with other girls and I got impressed by the way she was able to maintain a conversation with older girls that she had just met. Anyway, she approached, and we started to talk. We discovered that not only were we classmates but also neighbors. In this way we started a friendship that has undergone a lot.
During the five years we studied at high school, we started a band of folk music and we even performed in different shows!!! I cannot believe I had done that, but I know that I did it because my friend had enough confidence in the two of us. Even when the idea of the band got to an end, my friend continued studying music, in spite of the problems she had: her family was not at its best moment and everything seemed to fall apart in a minute. Now if you think that my friend ran out screaming (as I would have done) you are wrong. She faced her father and defended her mom and her little sister. She was the one who encouraged her mother to fight and not to give up. She was 15 and yet she was a warrior of life already. It is because of her that her family finally saw a light at the end of the tunnel.
Nowadays my best friend is about to obtain her degree, something that she has fought for since the very first moment she went to university. And she also found love! She finally found what she had looked for without knowing. It came by chance, and I think it came to stay. I don´t know what people might thing about her choice and I don´t care either. She looks great. And her smile is back in her. Back like in the old good times.
My dear friend, if you ever read this, I just want you to know how much you mean for me. I saw you the other day and I meant to tell it to you face to face but, well, you know me. What matters is that I´ll ALWAYS be there for you when you need it. You deserve everything you have earned and you know it. If there´s someone on earth that has to be happy is you. I wish you the best and I thank God for having known you. I hope this friendship that has lived for 12 years stay fore ever. I love you girl!

Passion: Teaching:

If I look backwards in my life, images appear automatically. But not ordinary images; images of myself teaching. When I was a child, I used to play to be the teacher of my youngest brother. He would sit with some sheets of paper in front of him and some pencils and I would be the teacher (of course!). i´d give him the instructions of the different exercises he hed to do. My favourite part was the correction of the test. I felt so important! And, if my brother was tired or simply not interested in playing with me it didn´t matter, ´cause I had my teddy bears to play with.
But that was childhood, though. High school came, and for a short while I forgot about my favourite game, until it came back with an unusual strength. This time I had included the best characteristics of my favourite teachers at school and I applied them as if they were mine. Therefore, I was a kind treacher who treated her students with the respect teenagers deserve. I also had a great sense of humour and was able to convince my “students” that life is hard, but also worthliving.
Now that I think of that, it´s obvious that during high school I had met and started to enjoy my passion for teaching; the one thing that made me feel special, even when I didn´t have anyone to prove it to. I just realized that I wanted and needed to teach. Teach what? That problem would be solved later on, I said to myself.
Time passed, and I found the “what”. I think it came to me more as the result of an inner process than as a revelation, but it came anyway. The only thing I´m sure of is that I had all my life felt the desire and the urge to transmit knowledge to people.
Now that I´m taking the last steps of this walk, I can say that for me teaching is a basic, pure and important ingredient of my life. I love teaching. It´s something I was meant to from the first time and I don´t want it to stop. Quite the contrary, I want it to get as big as possible.
Teaching is my passion.

My mom:

My mom is, to many people a simple woman but to me she represents the biggest blessing God had ever given me. She is sweet, tender, caring, humble, unique and fragile. It is as if she was a mixture of personalities that combine in one.
My mom has been there for me since I can remember. We have a close relationship based in the principles of respect, trust and sharing. Many times we don´t even have the need to speak, for which one look full of complicity is enough to communicate. We hardly ever argue but if we do, it takes us some days to accept that we were wrong. And maybe that´s another feature of our relationship: we share the same passion for both loving and being upset. What amazes me the most is that she provides of love to everyone who needs it, and yet she doesn´t ask for anything in return.
My mom has a hypnotic power on people. She has lived 65 long years and you can still easily see the lightening in her eyes. The lines of expression on her face are evidence enough of what she had gone through: nothing has been denied to her; not the good parts, or the bad ones. And if there is something that all of them had taught my mom is that there´s always a tomorrow; that the sun will rise again sooner or later, and that we must be there to see it.
I don´t even want to think what will be like not having her. I can only assure that the day she lives me will be the day in which a part of me will die too.
There´s nothing I can do to retain her, so my last attempt will be to love her and take care of her as if it wasn´t tomorrow.

My favourite singer as a child:

When I was 10 years old I listened for the first time a song by Michael Bolton. On those days my mind was so altered that I could easily predict that a difficult phase in my life was approaching: teenage hood. Of course, with such an uncontrolled revolution inside me there were few moments of internal peace and joy. Moments that always came to me together with Bolton´s music.
By that time I had already listened to different artists in English but none of them had had that effect on me. I think his music is a perfect combination of power and sweetness; the final product of a process that, in his own words, has always been natural. And I think it´s true: there´s something magical but at the same time tangible and palpable in all his songs. Furthermore, his voice is unique: it´s sweet and rough at the same time, something that complements perfectly with the band that accompanies him.
Even though teenage hood is over (thank God), I still listen a lot to Michael Bolton. Every time I do it I figure out something new, something I didn´t realize before. I know that everyone has something that remains them their past, and I have his music.

Lonely days:

Lonely days visit me from time to time. They show up unexpectedly and stay. They just stay. It may seem difficult to believe but lonely days are not a problem to me.
During those days I try to connect with myself. I listen to some good music and I think. In lonely days I think a lot. Think of things I didn´t have the courage to do; words I didn’t dare to pronounce; people I didn´t want to talk to...
Lonely days make me realize of the good things I had been able to achieve recently. This is a unique time when I like me and when I convince myself that a radical change in life is still possible. I get so freaking positive in lonely days that it frightens me! And I also try to take advantage of them because I know that in any minute they´ll go away, taking with them the good things that I’m normally lack of. When my lonely days are gone, shadows come back. Everything gets so dark and thinking turns into something so heavy, that I loose all hope again. Once these beautiful lonely days abandon me I go backwards in time, trying to pick up the pieces of a puzzle too large to complete. It´s funny that I remember the exact words that went through my mind the day before: words that promised so much and that now are nothing else but empty boxes within my brain; dreams that looked so meaningful and which now are nonsensical nightmares that won´t let me wake up.
I need my lonely days back. I´m looking forward to have them with me again. Maybe this time it´ll be different, who knows? Maybe this time they´ll stay forever.

It hurts:

It hurts when you decide if I´ll have the strength to do something or not.
It hurts when your mouth says one thing and your eyes something different.
It hurts when your “good action of the day” is to humilliate me.
It hurts when you ignore my suffering.
It hurts when you enjoy seeing me bleed.
It hurts when you put people against me.
It hurts when you choose to be my eneny, knowing well that being my friend is so much easier.
It hurts when you don´t respect my times.
It hurts when you leave me.
It hurts when you overprotect me.
It hurts when you don´t let me be me.
You are my other side and I know I must learn to deal with you and to accept taht we´ll always be together. But sometimes I just can´t stand you. I don´t want to fuight against you. I do it evry single day of my life and I´m tired. Tired of letting you win;tired of letting you decide over me.
I don´t want to hate you, but sometimes...
I don´t want to kill you, but sometimes... It hurts.

Big Brother vs. society?

Through the last couple of months I´ve seen and read information, opinios, critics and demonstrations of hatrade towards the reality show “Big Brother”. I´ve witnessed furious confrontations between people who devote their existance to the show, and others in which they don´t even known who the hell Osito is (capital sin!).
The truth is that no matter if we like it or not, this television programme has openned a couple of doors (that will remain open), and which lead to a key question: do we really think we´re better than those guys?
Let´s face it: we, the great Argentinians cannot accept anything less than being simply the best. And we count on our ego to prove it to the world. Yeah, you know what I´m tsaking about, don´t you? It´s that little man or woman that exists in each of us and that threatenes us from time to time with growing out of proportions...
So, under these circumstances, how will we ever assume that those kids are a free sample or what our society looks like in general terms? I accept that a lot of people don´t like it; I myself think the show is useless, but it isn´t much worsethan promising speeches in lips of our polititians, or professional footbellers who visit murderers in jail.
Maybe we thought that these guys on the show would be part of a brilliant generation that seeks for a serious commitment with our nation... that, in other words, their presence on televisiton wouldn´t be a shame fopr us. Well. I guess we were wrong. But this is just entertainment;part of a show; the living proof that many people want to become famous skipping, if possible, the hardships. It´s obvious that none of them is expected to be awarded with a Nobel Prize, but in the end that´s their choice. And our choice is to change the channel if we don´t like what we are watching. Simple as that.
I think generalizations and stereotypes are not only hideous but also nonsense. The power of changing this present society is not in the hands of 17 people locked in, but in us, the ones who are outside and still can recognize flows.
(revised text)

Letter to a stranger

I saw you today as I usually do, but there was something different this time. You looked at me for a few seconds and I noticed your lovely and pure eyes. I couldn`t take my eyes away from yours; I felt hooked and overwhelmed by this feeling that you provoke and feed on me.
But suddenly I remembered that you are not suppossed to know my feelings for you; my love for you.
God, when is this nightmare going to stop? I wish I could get rid of you in my heart, in my poor heart. These words come out from me, and I simply can`t stop them. They write by themselves and warn me to let them go, `cause if I don`t, they`ll burn me out. They`ll hurt me badly and I`ve suffered a lot already. But at the same time I tell myself that falling in love with you has brought me back to life.
Will I ever be able to tell you how I feel? Will I ever have the courage and the strengh to face my fears? I know that there`s planty of you that I ignore, and I also know that this feeling, although strong, lacks of a fear base, but I don`t know how to convince my heart not to love you. I have tried, believe me I have, but it`s not willing to hear any reasons; it prefers to live in ignorance and darkness but with hope only.
The only thing the rest of me can do is to walk along with my heart and trust in its instincts. I love you, I really do!!!

Images

All of us keep images in our minds that remain like priceless treasures, and that from timt to time appear again and bring with them a vast amount of feelings and sensations.
For me it`s enough to read a word or to smell something in particular and that evokes a determined image. What I don`t know quite well is the effect that old images have on people. For instance, whenever I remember something, it doesn`t matter whether the picture is a happy and colourful one, once it`s over, I always experiment a strong sensation of remorse and regret. Now the funny (or ironic) thing is that many times I surprise finding myself looking for those souvenirs from the past intentionally.
It is as if my heart were too busy -or not interested- to hear mymind`s warning not to go to that place. Family members, friends, a particular face, a scene on a movie or even a gesture provoke on me a diverse rain of sequences that each time leaves a different message.
Even when I can`t predict the moment in which the past will be back for some moments (so as tobe more or less prepared), I have a mixture of nostalgia and relief all in one. I do know it`s a contradistion on otself, but those are the moments in which I realize that I`m still able to project memories from my past in order to understand my present and build my future.

Retales to Demiàn

During the summer I had the opportunity to read a book by Jorge Bucay called "Recuentos para Demiàn". It`s full of stories, annecdotes, jokes and tales, which belong to different backgrounds and cultures and in some cases they are the result of the author`s own imagination. In order to give to all this material a proper context, at the beginning and end of each chapter there is always an exchange of ideas and concepts between the therapist and the patient (Demiàn).
I was hooked by the book since the first page. I practicelly didn`t know anything about Bucay`s therepeutic methods or techniques, so I was surprised (and delighted) to discover that the format of the book wasn`t pure coincidence or just a literary divice, but the way in which the author daily works with his patients.
Demiàn is the character that I liked the most and felt identyfied with. The therapist, on the other hand, is not always easy to follow. He has a sort of code that, even though it doesn`t have anything to do with scientific terminology, it does say a lot. That`s when Demiàn, the esceptic but also innocent patient gets his own conclusions.
I`ve always been interested in psychology, and despite I know that many people don`t believe in them, I do think that they are especially trainned yo be the shoulder that evereyone needs aside from time to time.
In the case of the book, is the professional the one that gives rythm and pace to each session. Demiàn takes his time, but in the end he`s usually able to prove to Jorge -and to himself- that he has learnt something new. And that`s precisely the sensation I experimented trough the book: a sensation of constant growth.
Nevertheless, not everything is perfect; there werw fragments in which Demiàn felt frustrated, and so did I, but I think it`s the kind of frustration that in a way or the other oblishes the you to get over and go on.
Ireally enjoyed reading this whole book that I found so refreshing and I`m looking forward to read something else about Bucay.

How is like to loose a person:

There used to be a person in my life who defined herself as a warrior, and so she was. during her entire life her main purpode wae to love, help and support all the ones who were around her. She had many friends that discovered in her a simple but complete, honest person. For me she was the ultimate person I wanted to be like. She was my friend and in many ocassions my guide too.
This person, my aunt, who had fought in different battles had one left to go through; this was her personal confrontation against cancer.
Since the very moment we found out what was happening to her, we turned into completely different people. We would constantly move around her like ghosts, trying to deliver encouriging messages that sounded (and felt) like ice when they were produced. On those ocassions she was the one who ended up conforting ue. When it became obvious that the end was close and it was inevitable, my aunt was exausted. Now I clearly see that dhe had understood a long time before we did, that denying was much worsetahn accepting.
In the end cancer won; my aunt left us a cold morning in October, 13 years ago. I still remember her last moments alive. She couldn´t open her eyes and I would dare to day that she wasn´t with us any longer. I guess she was making a last trip, visiting faces and places. There was a final moment when she led out a deep sigh and we understood: my aunt had just left this world after 57 years. Even when life had taken away her chances of having children, I know, I feel that her legacy will always be present an all of us: her family.