Often times we ask parents; which child do you love the most?
And the most popular answer is: I love them all equally!
The child they love the most is the first one, because that's how they learned to be parents.
The child they love the most, is the second one that one usually will test their patience
The child they love the most is the youngest one because that's "the baby"
The child they love the most is the one they lost because they'll never see how wonderful that child would've been.
The child they love the most is the one that came to replace the one you lost because that child lit up your life back again.
The child they love the most is the brilliant one, because it makes them feel proud.
The child they love the most, is the troubled one because that child needs it.
The child they love the most is the funny one, because that child makes them laugh when they're sad.
The child they love the most, is the sick one, because love cures everything.
The child they love the most is the strong one, because that child fights for them.
The child they love the most, is the weak one, because they need to protect that child.
The child they love the most, is you
Because at some point or another you were all those things.
Friday, December 7, 2018
Wednesday, November 28, 2018
La muerte
Hace ya varios anos (no se` como se escribe la n`) mientras lidiaba con mi alcoholismo severo y mantenía amistades de dudosa reputación de esas que le encantan a la Señora Inspectora, note que después de varios tragos en medio de la fiesta o del parrandon al final de la noche y las copas, me agarraba la brameta.
Porque? Una de mis amistades que es una eminencia de la psicología que ha trabajado hasta con asesinos en serie y hasta en un manicomio, me sugirió hacer un ejercicio:
Tratar de recordar mi primera memoria:
En aquel instante, solo pude viajar hasta atrás en mis 8 anos de vida, una vez que mi santa madre me llamo desde lejos pidiéndome que regresara a casa y me prometía enseñarme a cepillarme los dientes.
Recordé que estaba de vacaciones en la playa donde mi tía favorita que coincidente-mente es dentista!
Regrese y mi madre me enseno como cepillarme los dientes, en retrospectiva, mejor me hubiera quedado donde mi tía y hubiera pedido a ella que me ensenara lo que mi madre ofrecía, porque al llegar a casa, lo que había imaginado de pasar tiempo con ella, se convirtió en 1 minuto de atención y lo que me restaba de vacaciones de pura prisión. Mi casa no era un lugar de libertad ni alegría
No es que ella era mala, simplemente al ser madre de 4 hijos, soltera, la atención de ella se iba en como mantenernos y tratar de darnos todo lo que ella podía comprar, sin saber que tan solo media hora de atención eran suficientes para sobrevivir y ser feliz en una casa donde reír y ser lo que fueras era ANORMAL.
Me dijo mi amiga: " no es normal que no recuerdes mas allá de los 8 anos" - " Deberías ser capaz de recordar mas allá, la idea es que recuerdes cuando tenias 1 ano y medio o 2" -"Pero si no puedes recordar, entonces, escribe, cuando estes "debajo de los defectos del alcohol", escribe, algo saldrá!
Salio Historias Verdaderas de Deborah Dorah!
No pude!
Acabo la conversación y la peda, pero quede con el gomon y con la espina:
Que paso antes??
En los días siguientes, mientras trataba de recordar hasta atrás, mientras manejaba, tuve un recuerdo que vino de la nada, sentí una patada en el estomago y me detuve, se me salieron las lagrimas y en ese instante supe todo lo que me molestaba.
Desde ese día, poco a poco deje de beber y aleje las amistades delictivas y dudosas con las que me asociaba.
Sera voodoo lo que me hizo? Me hizo hipnotismo y ni cuenta me di?
No se, pero la táctica funciono! Bueno, por lo menos hasta que la muerte visito mi casa.
La Muerte: nunca hablamos de ella:
Escuche de ella hablar, cuando mi familia se refería a mi "biscabuela" ella era una tirana, una persona de pocos sentimientos y un corazón negro" nadie tenia nada bueno que decir de ella. Entonces (que yo era una nina) la muerte era para personas viejas y malas.
Anos después la muerte volvió a tocar las puertas de mi casa, esa vez era una tía abuela, que nos visitaba los domingos, yo le tenia cierto aprecio aunque ella no era ni carinosa ni humilde, en pocas palabras; no se ganaba a nadie.
Me dio pesar pues a mi corta edad (tendría yo unos 8 anos) teníamos en común nuestra fecha de nacimiento y un gusto por las joyas!
Pero aparte de eso, no supe mas lo que significa la muerte hasta anos después cuando mi mejor amiga enfermo y posteriormente falleció.
Su muerte fue algo que yo personalmente recibí con gratitud pues vi a mi persona favorita consumirse hasta ser nada, cuando la muerte llego, fue un alivio, porque ya no podía verla sufrir, ya no aguantaba verla consumirse, verla querer hablar, y no poder! Querer que me abrazara pero en ella ya no había nada, todo se consumió.
Cuando la muerte llego a mi casa y se la llevo, le di gracias a Dios, era lo que esperábamos por tanto tiempo, fue un alivio, no porque quisiera que se fuera, sino porque ya ella no era "ella" ya la habíamos perdido y ella seguía ahí.........cosumiendose........sin ser ella.
Tiempo después hubo otra muerte de la que sinceramente no vale ni la pena mencionar pues paso sin pena ni gloria.........para mi no significo nada, pues lo único que brindo a mi vida y los mas cercanos a mi, solo fue una verdadera pesadilla tenerlo en vida. Una persona que debió ser amorosa, solo nos brindo odio e insultos, para otros fue lo mejor, para mi..................fue lo peor.
Hasta ese momento, la muerte es para los viejos, buenos o malos, es una muerte bienvenida o esperada o simplemente paso.
Y luego, viene la muerte inesperada, de la que nadie habla; mi sobrino
Mi nino, mi compañero de juegos de niñez, a quien resentía pues me robo la atención de mi hermana favorita.
Recibir esa llamada en medio de la manana mientras me alisto para celebrar el cumpleaños de mi esposo fue una puñalada de fuego que me atravesó el alma.
Perder uno de nuestros ninos, uno de nuestro futuro como familia! Fue una espada directo al corazón directo a los que le amábamos, se nos fue un grande, joven, bello y con tanto futuro!
Porque? Si solo los viejos y enfermos se van primero?
PORQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?? Porque El? si era tan bueno? porque El? si era tan lindo y carinoso? Porque El si tenia tantas alegrías por regalarnos?
Y caí en la vulgaridad y falta de respeto de decirle a mi hermana que tenia que seguir adelante, que tenia que hacer lo que EL hubiera querido hacer sin saber, que La Muerte venia a mi casa próximamente................
Y la muerte vino a mi casa.........................................
Me asalto en medio de la noche, y me robo lo mas preciado que tenia, me robo mi pollito, mi bebe, mi nina, mi futuro, y todo lo bueno que tenia para mi.....
Y viví en carne propia lo que es que todo el mundo te diga los clichés que le dicen a todos:
La misma vulgaridad de siempre:
"ella no quisiera verte así"
-No, ella no quisiera verme así, pero así estoy hijueputa!
"Si fuera al revés, te gustaría verla salir adelante"
-Si fuera al revés, ella podría salir adelante porque su futuro no esta atado al mio, MI FUTURO ESTABA ATADO AL DE ELLA!
Mi futuro dependía de ella, (entendelo) pues todo lo que hacia era por ella y para ella.
Ahora entiendo, lo que se siente cuando te arrancan un pedazo del alma y todo tu corazón.
Si tan solo habláramos mas seguido de la muerte y que tan vulnerables somos, entederiamos que la muerte toca cualquier puerta en cualquier momento y a todos nos toca sufrir la perdida de un ser querido mas pronto que tarde.\
Que la perdida de un pariente no es lo mismo que un hijo, y que la perdida de un hijo no es lo mismo que la perdida de una hija única.................................. Ahora entiendo el dolor de mi madre y de mi hermana y por mi ignorancia e insensibilidad, pido perdón, yo no sabia nada....
Al menos se, que Dios ya no me puede quitar nada que me duela mas............................... y para no perder la costumbre.................ya todo me vale verga.
Porque? Una de mis amistades que es una eminencia de la psicología que ha trabajado hasta con asesinos en serie y hasta en un manicomio, me sugirió hacer un ejercicio:
Tratar de recordar mi primera memoria:
En aquel instante, solo pude viajar hasta atrás en mis 8 anos de vida, una vez que mi santa madre me llamo desde lejos pidiéndome que regresara a casa y me prometía enseñarme a cepillarme los dientes.
Recordé que estaba de vacaciones en la playa donde mi tía favorita que coincidente-mente es dentista!
Regrese y mi madre me enseno como cepillarme los dientes, en retrospectiva, mejor me hubiera quedado donde mi tía y hubiera pedido a ella que me ensenara lo que mi madre ofrecía, porque al llegar a casa, lo que había imaginado de pasar tiempo con ella, se convirtió en 1 minuto de atención y lo que me restaba de vacaciones de pura prisión. Mi casa no era un lugar de libertad ni alegría
No es que ella era mala, simplemente al ser madre de 4 hijos, soltera, la atención de ella se iba en como mantenernos y tratar de darnos todo lo que ella podía comprar, sin saber que tan solo media hora de atención eran suficientes para sobrevivir y ser feliz en una casa donde reír y ser lo que fueras era ANORMAL.
Me dijo mi amiga: " no es normal que no recuerdes mas allá de los 8 anos" - " Deberías ser capaz de recordar mas allá, la idea es que recuerdes cuando tenias 1 ano y medio o 2" -"Pero si no puedes recordar, entonces, escribe, cuando estes "debajo de los defectos del alcohol", escribe, algo saldrá!
Salio Historias Verdaderas de Deborah Dorah!
No pude!
Acabo la conversación y la peda, pero quede con el gomon y con la espina:
Que paso antes??
En los días siguientes, mientras trataba de recordar hasta atrás, mientras manejaba, tuve un recuerdo que vino de la nada, sentí una patada en el estomago y me detuve, se me salieron las lagrimas y en ese instante supe todo lo que me molestaba.
Desde ese día, poco a poco deje de beber y aleje las amistades delictivas y dudosas con las que me asociaba.
Sera voodoo lo que me hizo? Me hizo hipnotismo y ni cuenta me di?
No se, pero la táctica funciono! Bueno, por lo menos hasta que la muerte visito mi casa.
La Muerte: nunca hablamos de ella:
Escuche de ella hablar, cuando mi familia se refería a mi "biscabuela" ella era una tirana, una persona de pocos sentimientos y un corazón negro" nadie tenia nada bueno que decir de ella. Entonces (que yo era una nina) la muerte era para personas viejas y malas.
Anos después la muerte volvió a tocar las puertas de mi casa, esa vez era una tía abuela, que nos visitaba los domingos, yo le tenia cierto aprecio aunque ella no era ni carinosa ni humilde, en pocas palabras; no se ganaba a nadie.
Me dio pesar pues a mi corta edad (tendría yo unos 8 anos) teníamos en común nuestra fecha de nacimiento y un gusto por las joyas!
Pero aparte de eso, no supe mas lo que significa la muerte hasta anos después cuando mi mejor amiga enfermo y posteriormente falleció.
Su muerte fue algo que yo personalmente recibí con gratitud pues vi a mi persona favorita consumirse hasta ser nada, cuando la muerte llego, fue un alivio, porque ya no podía verla sufrir, ya no aguantaba verla consumirse, verla querer hablar, y no poder! Querer que me abrazara pero en ella ya no había nada, todo se consumió.
Cuando la muerte llego a mi casa y se la llevo, le di gracias a Dios, era lo que esperábamos por tanto tiempo, fue un alivio, no porque quisiera que se fuera, sino porque ya ella no era "ella" ya la habíamos perdido y ella seguía ahí.........cosumiendose........sin ser ella.
Tiempo después hubo otra muerte de la que sinceramente no vale ni la pena mencionar pues paso sin pena ni gloria.........para mi no significo nada, pues lo único que brindo a mi vida y los mas cercanos a mi, solo fue una verdadera pesadilla tenerlo en vida. Una persona que debió ser amorosa, solo nos brindo odio e insultos, para otros fue lo mejor, para mi..................fue lo peor.
Hasta ese momento, la muerte es para los viejos, buenos o malos, es una muerte bienvenida o esperada o simplemente paso.
Y luego, viene la muerte inesperada, de la que nadie habla; mi sobrino
Mi nino, mi compañero de juegos de niñez, a quien resentía pues me robo la atención de mi hermana favorita.
Recibir esa llamada en medio de la manana mientras me alisto para celebrar el cumpleaños de mi esposo fue una puñalada de fuego que me atravesó el alma.
Perder uno de nuestros ninos, uno de nuestro futuro como familia! Fue una espada directo al corazón directo a los que le amábamos, se nos fue un grande, joven, bello y con tanto futuro!
Porque? Si solo los viejos y enfermos se van primero?
PORQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE?? Porque El? si era tan bueno? porque El? si era tan lindo y carinoso? Porque El si tenia tantas alegrías por regalarnos?
Y caí en la vulgaridad y falta de respeto de decirle a mi hermana que tenia que seguir adelante, que tenia que hacer lo que EL hubiera querido hacer sin saber, que La Muerte venia a mi casa próximamente................
Y la muerte vino a mi casa.........................................
Me asalto en medio de la noche, y me robo lo mas preciado que tenia, me robo mi pollito, mi bebe, mi nina, mi futuro, y todo lo bueno que tenia para mi.....
Y viví en carne propia lo que es que todo el mundo te diga los clichés que le dicen a todos:
La misma vulgaridad de siempre:
"ella no quisiera verte así"
-No, ella no quisiera verme así, pero así estoy hijueputa!
"Si fuera al revés, te gustaría verla salir adelante"
-Si fuera al revés, ella podría salir adelante porque su futuro no esta atado al mio, MI FUTURO ESTABA ATADO AL DE ELLA!
Mi futuro dependía de ella, (entendelo) pues todo lo que hacia era por ella y para ella.
Ahora entiendo, lo que se siente cuando te arrancan un pedazo del alma y todo tu corazón.
Si tan solo habláramos mas seguido de la muerte y que tan vulnerables somos, entederiamos que la muerte toca cualquier puerta en cualquier momento y a todos nos toca sufrir la perdida de un ser querido mas pronto que tarde.\
Que la perdida de un pariente no es lo mismo que un hijo, y que la perdida de un hijo no es lo mismo que la perdida de una hija única.................................. Ahora entiendo el dolor de mi madre y de mi hermana y por mi ignorancia e insensibilidad, pido perdón, yo no sabia nada....
Al menos se, que Dios ya no me puede quitar nada que me duela mas............................... y para no perder la costumbre.................ya todo me vale verga.
Thursday, June 14, 2018
The Monster
I was sooooo happy! Just finished wrapping up photo shoots for my magazine, they were outstanding to say the least, the magazine was looking superb, I was on my way to accomplish my vision, that issue was going to open unimaginable doors for me as my portfolio.
So far, even with all the previous mistakes, doors were opening right and left, I've made it, we were a success!
Wrapped up the sixth edition of a dream, a dream that would be great for me, my daughter, my friends and everyone that needed an opportunity.
Not only that, that week I was lucky enough to be called last minute to add some of my sparkly touches to a beautiful collection of a fellow Honduran designer presenting at an international event! I made it! I'm in! Those opportunities are hard to come by, I took it and it was a success! Finally, everything is lining up....... I can see it, I can now visualize success, it's coming and it's unstoppable, I've done it! People will know my name for something good and all the bad of the past will be forgotten and erased, I can now be finally known for something good, something really good! I can now make everyone proud! Everything after this will only be greater things and accomplishments, doors are finally open.....
A day later, I felt the earth move, it felt like giant steps of a monstrous animal, at first it felt very light, like it was far away: - "that's unusual" I thought to myself while the earth shook right under my feet.
Something is wrong, something is really wrong! As that monstrosity approach my house.
The monster steps caught speed, and the shaking took over my house, i felt dizzy, ready to throw up, something is really wrong.
All of the sudden, I was in my house....... alone .....and everything caught on fire: my bedroom, my work, my magazine, my necklaces, my pictures, my animals,my happiness, everything i loved, my life! Everything I worked so hard to accomplish, it was now on fire..... I couldn't move, if I did, I would fall into nothingness and while everything turned into ashes, I was there, standing in the middle watching everything burn unable to do anything while the monster was rushing and the pillar i was standing on, hopeless, was shaking uncontrollably.
And then, the phone rang....... As soon as I heard those words, the monster entered my house, took an ax out and proceeded to split me open, from the left side of my neck to the right side of my rib cage, separating my head from my heart, it was an immaculate cut that left me with a thinking brain and bleeding heart and somehow alive! How can someone survive that?
Not only did he split me open, he then proceeded to give me the beating of a lifetime, I've been physically beaten before, but it never hurt like this time, he kicked me, insulted me, spit on me, abused me, he took everything from me and while I was begging for my life, in the middle of the fire and ashes, someone knocked on the door.............. a familiar face; can he see the destruction? can he see my bleeding body and my burning house?
He hugged me, while i felt the monster's knifes and claws stabbing and ripping me from the inside on my back, can he help me? can he keep me alive? can he contain the fire? can this friend help me save anything? Can anything of the good I've done be saved?
He sat next to me for I don't even know how long, we were like two kids in kindergarten that have no idea what to do.
The monster took breaks in between friends coming over to try to help in the middle of the destruction, gave me breaks to see the good in human kindness in friends and family that rushed to my side in the middle of all the destruction.
The next day he took his ax again and told what a worthless piece of shit I am, chopped me up again, spit on me and told me to just kill myself.
Broken,beaten and split open, I decided to end it, I still had a ton of painkillers from that time when I had cancer, it would be so easy.
For some reason I called out for help, and help was right there, one of my favorite cousins came to save me and took the pills from me, that man, whom I admire so much, came out of nowhere, dropped everything he had to do and saved my life, the monster got furious and proceeded to beat me up again and again until i could no longer take it and passed out.
The monster keeps beaten me, cutting my flesh, how can I still be alive?
Familiar faces, friends came to lend a helping hand, but there was so much destruction, so little they could do.
The monster moved into my house, he now lives here, if I shower and try to look pretty, he shows me a burned face, if I laugh , he tells me what a piece of shit I am, if I try to live my old life, he reminds me how worthless I've always been, if I try to be positive and try to have some future, he reminds me how alone I am in the world and how I have no future without any more kids or future for any more kids,If I hug someone,he stabs me in the back, if I cry, he's ok, if I hurt, he's happy
Beware, that monster now lives in my house.
If I'm with you and you see me crying, know the monster followed me there, he's trying to kill me, he's blaming me, he wants me to kill myself, please help me!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZly12eGpNA
So far, even with all the previous mistakes, doors were opening right and left, I've made it, we were a success!
Wrapped up the sixth edition of a dream, a dream that would be great for me, my daughter, my friends and everyone that needed an opportunity.
Not only that, that week I was lucky enough to be called last minute to add some of my sparkly touches to a beautiful collection of a fellow Honduran designer presenting at an international event! I made it! I'm in! Those opportunities are hard to come by, I took it and it was a success! Finally, everything is lining up....... I can see it, I can now visualize success, it's coming and it's unstoppable, I've done it! People will know my name for something good and all the bad of the past will be forgotten and erased, I can now be finally known for something good, something really good! I can now make everyone proud! Everything after this will only be greater things and accomplishments, doors are finally open.....
A day later, I felt the earth move, it felt like giant steps of a monstrous animal, at first it felt very light, like it was far away: - "that's unusual" I thought to myself while the earth shook right under my feet.
Something is wrong, something is really wrong! As that monstrosity approach my house.
The monster steps caught speed, and the shaking took over my house, i felt dizzy, ready to throw up, something is really wrong.
All of the sudden, I was in my house....... alone .....and everything caught on fire: my bedroom, my work, my magazine, my necklaces, my pictures, my animals,my happiness, everything i loved, my life! Everything I worked so hard to accomplish, it was now on fire..... I couldn't move, if I did, I would fall into nothingness and while everything turned into ashes, I was there, standing in the middle watching everything burn unable to do anything while the monster was rushing and the pillar i was standing on, hopeless, was shaking uncontrollably.
And then, the phone rang....... As soon as I heard those words, the monster entered my house, took an ax out and proceeded to split me open, from the left side of my neck to the right side of my rib cage, separating my head from my heart, it was an immaculate cut that left me with a thinking brain and bleeding heart and somehow alive! How can someone survive that?
Not only did he split me open, he then proceeded to give me the beating of a lifetime, I've been physically beaten before, but it never hurt like this time, he kicked me, insulted me, spit on me, abused me, he took everything from me and while I was begging for my life, in the middle of the fire and ashes, someone knocked on the door.............. a familiar face; can he see the destruction? can he see my bleeding body and my burning house?
He hugged me, while i felt the monster's knifes and claws stabbing and ripping me from the inside on my back, can he help me? can he keep me alive? can he contain the fire? can this friend help me save anything? Can anything of the good I've done be saved?
He sat next to me for I don't even know how long, we were like two kids in kindergarten that have no idea what to do.
The monster took breaks in between friends coming over to try to help in the middle of the destruction, gave me breaks to see the good in human kindness in friends and family that rushed to my side in the middle of all the destruction.
The next day he took his ax again and told what a worthless piece of shit I am, chopped me up again, spit on me and told me to just kill myself.
Broken,beaten and split open, I decided to end it, I still had a ton of painkillers from that time when I had cancer, it would be so easy.
For some reason I called out for help, and help was right there, one of my favorite cousins came to save me and took the pills from me, that man, whom I admire so much, came out of nowhere, dropped everything he had to do and saved my life, the monster got furious and proceeded to beat me up again and again until i could no longer take it and passed out.
The monster keeps beaten me, cutting my flesh, how can I still be alive?
Familiar faces, friends came to lend a helping hand, but there was so much destruction, so little they could do.
The monster moved into my house, he now lives here, if I shower and try to look pretty, he shows me a burned face, if I laugh , he tells me what a piece of shit I am, if I try to live my old life, he reminds me how worthless I've always been, if I try to be positive and try to have some future, he reminds me how alone I am in the world and how I have no future without any more kids or future for any more kids,If I hug someone,he stabs me in the back, if I cry, he's ok, if I hurt, he's happy
Beware, that monster now lives in my house.
If I'm with you and you see me crying, know the monster followed me there, he's trying to kill me, he's blaming me, he wants me to kill myself, please help me!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fZly12eGpNA
Monday, April 9, 2018
Señal divina
Yo nací un 1ero de septiembre, hace más de 4 décadas, no saquen cuentas, tengo 29 años!
Casualmente, en esa misma fecha cumplía años una tía abuela muy excéntrica que tuve yo.
Casi no tengo memorias de ella aunque ella llegaba de visita a la casa todos los domingos y murió cuando yo tenía cerca de 8 años, debería tener más recuerdos, pero creo el consumo excesivo de alcohol me borró ciertos recuerdos.
El caso es que la tal tía era bien excéntrica, se había criado como alta aristocracia pues su abuelo había sido presiente de Nicaragua y su mamá la primera dama (el abuelo era viudo o soltero, no sé la verdad) así que la tía era algo que llamaríamos como una "viejita fresa" , era rubia y con ojos verdes, jamás creerías que éramos parientes, era de piel blanca y tomaba café con el dedo chiquito de la mano levantado, justo como los aristócratas que se ven en las películas.
No le recuerdo la personalidad, pero a juzgar por la herencia, me imagino era un poco energúmena y difícil de carácter.
Te cuento esto porque no sólo compartíamos la misma fecha de nacimiento sino el amor por las joyas!! Aahhhhggg las joyas! Todo lo que brilla!
Ella tenía una colección de joyas regia! No eran de oro ni diamantes, pero eran cristales de la más alta calidad, una colección de joyas vintage bellísimas.
Un día, creo que "echó de ver" como le admiraba sus perendengues, y me regaló un arito, sólo uno .
Me lo dio en un -" tomá! Ya perdí el otro y este no me sirve"
Pero para mí, en mi inocencia a mi corta edad, fue el mejor regalo que he recibido en toda mi vida, jugaba con el día y noche, me lo ponía, me lo quitaba, me lo ponía como prendedor, como anillo! Para mí era lo más valioso que jamás había tenido!
Al poco tiempo ella murió y su colección de joyas fue abierta a las aves de rapiña de la familia y se perdió todo cayendo en manos que nunca le darían el valor que le hubiera dado yo. Me dolió mucho que se perdiera tan valiosa colección, bueno, valiosa para mí, para los demás eran pinches perendengues baratos.
Para mí sorpresa mi abuelo recuperó algunas piezas y me las regaló! En ese momento comenzó mi colección de joyas, las puse en una cartera y a partir de ese momento esa cartera se convirtió en parte de mi diario vivir, llevaba a mi cartera y mi tesoro a todas partes!
Y siempre, siempre jugaba con el arito que la tía me regaló
El arito era un clip-on de una perla amarilla rodeada de "diamantes"
Juzgue usted.......
Tal vez si no me hubieran robado mi arito nunca habría sentido la necesidad de crear mis propias versiones así que pues hay que agradecerle a la prima Clepto y como dicen: "No hay mal que por bien no venga"
Casualmente, en esa misma fecha cumplía años una tía abuela muy excéntrica que tuve yo.
Casi no tengo memorias de ella aunque ella llegaba de visita a la casa todos los domingos y murió cuando yo tenía cerca de 8 años, debería tener más recuerdos, pero creo el consumo excesivo de alcohol me borró ciertos recuerdos.
El caso es que la tal tía era bien excéntrica, se había criado como alta aristocracia pues su abuelo había sido presiente de Nicaragua y su mamá la primera dama (el abuelo era viudo o soltero, no sé la verdad) así que la tía era algo que llamaríamos como una "viejita fresa" , era rubia y con ojos verdes, jamás creerías que éramos parientes, era de piel blanca y tomaba café con el dedo chiquito de la mano levantado, justo como los aristócratas que se ven en las películas.
No le recuerdo la personalidad, pero a juzgar por la herencia, me imagino era un poco energúmena y difícil de carácter.
Te cuento esto porque no sólo compartíamos la misma fecha de nacimiento sino el amor por las joyas!! Aahhhhggg las joyas! Todo lo que brilla!
Ella tenía una colección de joyas regia! No eran de oro ni diamantes, pero eran cristales de la más alta calidad, una colección de joyas vintage bellísimas.
Un día, creo que "echó de ver" como le admiraba sus perendengues, y me regaló un arito, sólo uno .
Me lo dio en un -" tomá! Ya perdí el otro y este no me sirve"
Pero para mí, en mi inocencia a mi corta edad, fue el mejor regalo que he recibido en toda mi vida, jugaba con el día y noche, me lo ponía, me lo quitaba, me lo ponía como prendedor, como anillo! Para mí era lo más valioso que jamás había tenido!
Al poco tiempo ella murió y su colección de joyas fue abierta a las aves de rapiña de la familia y se perdió todo cayendo en manos que nunca le darían el valor que le hubiera dado yo. Me dolió mucho que se perdiera tan valiosa colección, bueno, valiosa para mí, para los demás eran pinches perendengues baratos.
Para mí sorpresa mi abuelo recuperó algunas piezas y me las regaló! En ese momento comenzó mi colección de joyas, las puse en una cartera y a partir de ese momento esa cartera se convirtió en parte de mi diario vivir, llevaba a mi cartera y mi tesoro a todas partes!
Y siempre, siempre jugaba con el arito que la tía me regaló
El arito era un clip-on de una perla amarilla rodeada de "diamantes"
Muy similar a la de la foto! Me refiero en pasado pues en un acto de negligencia de mi parte, perdí el arito, la cartera y todos mis tesoros!
Mi mamá me dejó ir de vacaciones a San Pedro Sula, y como era de esperar, llevé mi cartera y con mucho orgullo mostré mi colección a mis primas, que iba a saber yo de maldades y manos cleptómanas! En mi familia? No, jamás!
Mi mamá me mandó a traer de vuelta y salimos de madrugada, en mi estado aún adormilada, me subí al carro de mi tío y a medio camino. ...... HORROR!! Mi cartera! Mis tesoros! Ya era demasiado tarde para regresar!! Mi tío me prometió que mis primas cuidarían mi cartera hasta que alguien volviera a viajar y la pudieran mandar de vuelta a mis manos!
En cuanto llegué a la casa llamé a una de las primas y le dije que me guardara la cartera bajo llave y que no dejara que nadie la viera, y así me lo prometió.
No contaba con la época cleptómana de mi otra prima, quien en un acto delincuencial violentó el closet de su hermana para apoderarse de mi tesoro!
No sólo eso, la muy imbécil en vez de quedárselo, se lo fue a regalar a la vecina! Y sorpresa, sorpresa! Nadie supo que hacer en esa situación y nadie recobró mi tesoro!
Había perdido mi regalo más valioso, y lloré y lloré de cólera! Quería sacarle los ojos a mi prima, agarrarla a patadas para que sintiera el mismo dolor que sentí yo. Ay Dios como me dolió que de recordarlo me da cólera otra vez!
A partir de ese momento no me quedó de otra más que volver a coleccionar, y buscar el arito que se me perdió.
Tengo una colección entera de aritos y botones similares pues nunca volví a ver el arito que me robaron.
Lo interesante de la historia, es como hace poco caí en cuenta que se arito que me regaló la tía, marcaría el primer paso que me llevaría a hacer lo que hago ahora.
Como dicen por ahí: "ten el valor de seguir tu corazón y tu intuición, ellos de alguna manera ellos saben lo que tu quieres ser"
La señal divina la recibí hace años:
Tal vez si no me hubieran robado mi arito nunca habría sentido la necesidad de crear mis propias versiones así que pues hay que agradecerle a la prima Clepto y como dicen: "No hay mal que por bien no venga"
Monday, February 19, 2018
A month in Japan
Recently, I spent an entire month in Japan, regardless of what most people might think, this wasn't a glamorous trip, even though I visited multiple cities and treated myself to many adventures , for the most part I was submerged in their culture in a small city called Iwakuni where you can really absorb the Japanese culture to the max since they really don't cater to the American ("no speaking English").
Very interesting people I may say; as soon as you get on the plane, it all gets different, absolutely no one talks, it's frightening how quiet it is, you don't hear any thug talking about "his niggas" or the usual "Kimberly" chit chatting about how awesome Cardi B is, getting on the plane after spending 3 hours at LAX was a welcomed surprise to be able to listen to my own thoughts. We rented a 3 bedroom house in a really nice neighborhood and one of the requirements was to buy some candy and visit our immediate neighbors to the left, to the right, front and back , give them the candy and introduce ourselves! I mean, I don't even know my neighbors in America! And the ones I know, I avoid like the plague, they avoid me too, so it's more of a silent understanding, don't come knocking at my door with any type of bullshit mmmkay! Maybe in case of emergency!........ maybe!
We were told not to wear shoes inside the house, ever! And, interestingly enough, we found ourselves complying with this request even though it was fucking cold all the time and it's a pain to walk on cold floors in the middle of the night when nature calls.
Kids go to school 6 days a week from 7am to 5pm so we never heard kids yelling or arguing, nor playing, unless we were near a school during their recess, and on Sunday's you'll see dads playing with their kids out on the street! That's weird, you never see that in America, kids are usually confined in their bedrooms playing video games while dad watches football and gets drunk and mom is hypnotized by the stupid phone watching videos of the American queen: Kim Kardashian.
You know what they do when they ride the train? They read, people of all ages are everywhere with a pocket book reading, not hypnotized by their phones or Facebook! And do you know why they wear face masks? They do that when they have a cold or a cough, they wear the masks to avoid contagion on healthy people, unlike America where they tell us to cough on our sleeve and we're ok walking around with a runny nose and spraying germs on everyone that comes near us because, who gives a fuck right?
The Japanese have a way to say no when they don't want you near, or they just don't want to serve you or talk to you: they cross their arms in front their chest and say no! That's your signal that they don't want anything to do with you, it doesn't mean they're racist or hate you, it simply means NO! and nobody feels left out or insulted, nobody goes on Facebook rants because they were told no! Ha! How interesting! Don't get me wrong, they're far from perfect, I mean, they kill live bunnies to make fake bunnies! Who does that? And they eat live fish and things, you must be a little off to put something breathing and wiggling in your mouth.
They drink like fish until passing out on the street in the cold, yet, nobody drives drunk! One beer, you get behind the wheel, and you're ass is going to jail for 5 years, no negotiating, no calling lawyers, no community service, you get caught, you're ass is going to rott in jail for 5 straight years. That'll get anyone to either stop drinking and driving or stop drinking all together.
Good thing we have uber! Aren't we so blessed? We can get drunk, get high and even throw up in an uber and make it home safe! God bless America!
Every woman 30 years or older dresses like a lady, they ALL wear heels everywhere and a pearl necklace is the stamp of being a true lady, there are sections at shopping malls where all dresses, suits and working clothes are all black and have the pearl necklace attached to them, this is designer clothing and is not cheap at all! But it's the ultimate ladies "uniform", you never see any woman wearing pajamas out in public, much less wearing "juicy ass sweat pants" or necklaces that read "bitch" on their necks.
Even the young crowd is classy, they dress properly everywhere they go, they're extremely fashionable, mostly in Tokyo, where they actually wear high priced designer clothing, I guess they really know that first impressions do matter.
Cab drivers wear a tie and suit with a uniform hat, always very well presented, cabs are immaculate with white seat covers that are always that: white!
There are no trash cans anywhere, you have some garbage in your hands? You must take it with you all the way home, you will not find a trash can ANYWHERE! And when you get home you must make sure to separate your garbage in different categories, yes, your garbage man checks your garbage to make sure it's in the correct bag, if you don't do it right, he doesn't take it!
Yeah! You gotta know your garbage and be extremely careful with it! By far, one of the hardest things to adapt to, and yet, one we desperately need to implement everywhere! But here in America who gives a rats ass right!?
There are many things that I can say to compliment the Japanese culture, they actually have that: culture! They cater to tradition and good manners, they're all well educated and polite.
I recently saw people wondering why Japan has stricter laws regarding guns and why they don't have mass shootings unlike America, where it seems is the new normal.
I made the mistake to try to explain someone on Facebook how the Japanese are far more advanced than us, the Americans, and how they actually respect the law. He didn't understand anything, so I backed down in order to remain friends and let him continue with his idea that what applies to others might actually work with Americans.
Currently, the subject of everyone's attention is where to place blame: is it guns? Is it mental health? Is it gun laws? Placing blame everywhere, because that's what we do.
How about looking in the mirror and realizing that you're just a piece of shit? Accepting that you are a spoiled person that expects changes in others but never really improve yourself? How often do you go to a homeless shelter and find out if they need anything? Are you fostering any abandoned kids? Abandoned pets? Do you volunteer to help local charities? Do you play with your kids daily? Do you put the phone away when your child talks to you? Do you cook for your family or just feed them fast food? How many of your neighbors do you know? When you see an accident with victims do you help or take video?
Looking at yourself in the mirror and realizing that you're just a pile of shit that likes to look at faults in others but never yourself is what creates problems. Is what's creating monsters, I see posts from parents praising their children and how amazing they are, but you never see when those little motherfuckers fuck up, mommy and daddy cover that up, because we must always maintain an image of perfection.
That's the difference between Japanese and American, they're close to perfect, we just pretend and we suck at pretending too.
Very interesting people I may say; as soon as you get on the plane, it all gets different, absolutely no one talks, it's frightening how quiet it is, you don't hear any thug talking about "his niggas" or the usual "Kimberly" chit chatting about how awesome Cardi B is, getting on the plane after spending 3 hours at LAX was a welcomed surprise to be able to listen to my own thoughts. We rented a 3 bedroom house in a really nice neighborhood and one of the requirements was to buy some candy and visit our immediate neighbors to the left, to the right, front and back , give them the candy and introduce ourselves! I mean, I don't even know my neighbors in America! And the ones I know, I avoid like the plague, they avoid me too, so it's more of a silent understanding, don't come knocking at my door with any type of bullshit mmmkay! Maybe in case of emergency!........ maybe!
We were told not to wear shoes inside the house, ever! And, interestingly enough, we found ourselves complying with this request even though it was fucking cold all the time and it's a pain to walk on cold floors in the middle of the night when nature calls.
Kids go to school 6 days a week from 7am to 5pm so we never heard kids yelling or arguing, nor playing, unless we were near a school during their recess, and on Sunday's you'll see dads playing with their kids out on the street! That's weird, you never see that in America, kids are usually confined in their bedrooms playing video games while dad watches football and gets drunk and mom is hypnotized by the stupid phone watching videos of the American queen: Kim Kardashian.
You know what they do when they ride the train? They read, people of all ages are everywhere with a pocket book reading, not hypnotized by their phones or Facebook! And do you know why they wear face masks? They do that when they have a cold or a cough, they wear the masks to avoid contagion on healthy people, unlike America where they tell us to cough on our sleeve and we're ok walking around with a runny nose and spraying germs on everyone that comes near us because, who gives a fuck right?
The Japanese have a way to say no when they don't want you near, or they just don't want to serve you or talk to you: they cross their arms in front their chest and say no! That's your signal that they don't want anything to do with you, it doesn't mean they're racist or hate you, it simply means NO! and nobody feels left out or insulted, nobody goes on Facebook rants because they were told no! Ha! How interesting! Don't get me wrong, they're far from perfect, I mean, they kill live bunnies to make fake bunnies! Who does that? And they eat live fish and things, you must be a little off to put something breathing and wiggling in your mouth.
They drink like fish until passing out on the street in the cold, yet, nobody drives drunk! One beer, you get behind the wheel, and you're ass is going to jail for 5 years, no negotiating, no calling lawyers, no community service, you get caught, you're ass is going to rott in jail for 5 straight years. That'll get anyone to either stop drinking and driving or stop drinking all together.
Good thing we have uber! Aren't we so blessed? We can get drunk, get high and even throw up in an uber and make it home safe! God bless America!
Every woman 30 years or older dresses like a lady, they ALL wear heels everywhere and a pearl necklace is the stamp of being a true lady, there are sections at shopping malls where all dresses, suits and working clothes are all black and have the pearl necklace attached to them, this is designer clothing and is not cheap at all! But it's the ultimate ladies "uniform", you never see any woman wearing pajamas out in public, much less wearing "juicy ass sweat pants" or necklaces that read "bitch" on their necks.
Even the young crowd is classy, they dress properly everywhere they go, they're extremely fashionable, mostly in Tokyo, where they actually wear high priced designer clothing, I guess they really know that first impressions do matter.
Cab drivers wear a tie and suit with a uniform hat, always very well presented, cabs are immaculate with white seat covers that are always that: white!
There are no trash cans anywhere, you have some garbage in your hands? You must take it with you all the way home, you will not find a trash can ANYWHERE! And when you get home you must make sure to separate your garbage in different categories, yes, your garbage man checks your garbage to make sure it's in the correct bag, if you don't do it right, he doesn't take it!
Yeah! You gotta know your garbage and be extremely careful with it! By far, one of the hardest things to adapt to, and yet, one we desperately need to implement everywhere! But here in America who gives a rats ass right!?
There are many things that I can say to compliment the Japanese culture, they actually have that: culture! They cater to tradition and good manners, they're all well educated and polite.
I recently saw people wondering why Japan has stricter laws regarding guns and why they don't have mass shootings unlike America, where it seems is the new normal.
I made the mistake to try to explain someone on Facebook how the Japanese are far more advanced than us, the Americans, and how they actually respect the law. He didn't understand anything, so I backed down in order to remain friends and let him continue with his idea that what applies to others might actually work with Americans.
Currently, the subject of everyone's attention is where to place blame: is it guns? Is it mental health? Is it gun laws? Placing blame everywhere, because that's what we do.
How about looking in the mirror and realizing that you're just a piece of shit? Accepting that you are a spoiled person that expects changes in others but never really improve yourself? How often do you go to a homeless shelter and find out if they need anything? Are you fostering any abandoned kids? Abandoned pets? Do you volunteer to help local charities? Do you play with your kids daily? Do you put the phone away when your child talks to you? Do you cook for your family or just feed them fast food? How many of your neighbors do you know? When you see an accident with victims do you help or take video?
Looking at yourself in the mirror and realizing that you're just a pile of shit that likes to look at faults in others but never yourself is what creates problems. Is what's creating monsters, I see posts from parents praising their children and how amazing they are, but you never see when those little motherfuckers fuck up, mommy and daddy cover that up, because we must always maintain an image of perfection.
That's the difference between Japanese and American, they're close to perfect, we just pretend and we suck at pretending too.
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