another of my lines. it came out perfectly loud and indeed everything was true. coats on, ready to leave the restaurant but the conversation was so interesting that we all sat at the table with our furs on. the table next to us had just had delivered some deadly scented fish soup. we all burst into laughter and decided it was going to be the title of my next post. the subject was intriguing and intertwining: communication vs conversation. the scene. a girl on a long distance relationship. ingredients: Skype, email, video, computer, airplanes and 9 hours time difference. another girl at the eve of an unpleasant divorce. ingredients: nasty text messages, false communication just to limit contact at the minimal. our best friend on the verge of a nervous breakdown ‘cause of too many dates to chose from, he had to cancel on someone, quickly, what a pity. ingredients: dating sites, texts, ignore texts, email. and there was me, waiting for a phone call : “Damn it, I don’t want to miss it, but I hate leaving the phone on the table” type of spinning. ingredient: the ring on the phone. we are submerged by means of communication. most flunk when you need them: “call failed”. nothing worst than connecting again after an unwanted abrupt interruption, “so, I was saying” and the flow, the magic, the intention, the tone, the spirit are gone. hot spots, immediate texting, the “I am going to post it on Facebook” facilitate communication but kill conversation. we find ourselves under a blanket of daily communications, hundreds of emails in the inbox, delete the junk, feel the urge to spread the latest gossip right now. fewer times we engage in a conversation. I have learned. now relationships end on Twitter or because of Facebook. however, when you first met that same person, wasn’t fascinating that “we could talk for hours about anything” or “we have so many things in common we didn’t realize that the evening went by”? it is rare to be able to share experiences, laughter, thoughts, hypothesis, passions, sports, colors. you should always be able to feel those butterflies in the stomach. the key is the conversation. the killer is when you find yourself left like the last stuffed pepper on the tray that nobody wants, (Laura Esquivel depicts it very well in “Like water for chocolate”) just because somebody else is faster @ tweets or at deleting you from the Facebook contacts. on a lighter note: don’t make what you think into what you know. have a conversation first.
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the un-Valentine's Day Game
February again. the month that in the common imaginary is dedicated to cupid. cliche’, passe’ and deja-vu. enough already. let’s put it in a different perspective. we are all beings of feelings and who wouldn’t want to have some romantic, hot, kinky, enchanted, joyous, elated, sophisticated, unforgettable time this month? so I propose the un-Valentine’s Day Game (sort of the un-birthday of the Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland). let’s shift everything just to pure LOVE. I asked for the 2k10 to be filled with positive, happy feelings, thoughts and propositions. it is a matter of "squeezing the heart" and celebrate LOVE this month. it’s very simple and everybody can practice and play: kids, partners, lovers, family, friends, neighbors, pets. to play the game is easy: just stubbornly and consistently move away from red roses, teddy bears, heart shaped balloons and chocolates and any sparkly cheesy gadget. please, please, please every time the temptation comes out at the supermarket counter or the coffee bar, turn around, throw a kiss, send a sweet text message or unconditionally smile with amusement at the envious colleague or forgive your miserable ex (cheater). it takes no time nor money and it fills everybody’s hearts. when you give LOVE supposedly you receive LOVE, so it is a game with a definite reward. happy un-Valentine’s Day month.
the cat with five legs
I always end up thinking I think too much.
the line “too many things in my head” depicts me extremely well, as if every curl of my hair were a thought. and, they all convene together!
that’s when my car’s battery goes dead because I park and leave the lights on while paying for the meter, waking up my daughter from the back seat and booking my next business trip with the agent on the phone.
then, I have to sit down and wait for the car to be towed (that’s normally at the oddest hours) and have nothing to do. this is when my brain starts spinning. I begin imagining things unfolding and deviating from reality like in a movie. I enter the realm of hypothesis and speculations and soon the cat becomes 5-legged, like my dear friend pictures it. The Critical Flicker Frequency Theory says that your mind can distinguish up to 24 different signals per second. A continuous and unbroken flow of images, that is a movie …
I thought having a fervid imagination was a positive skill to be nourished. I guess sometimes I pamper it a bit too much and come out with plots worth a Broadway production. and that all happens in my head: fast forwarding the movie to an end that thankfully never happens!
but overall, it wouldn’t be me otherwise.
Quasimodo & the fungus
they are ugly. both of them. in everybody’s imaginary world.
the one is physically deformed, unwanted, shady, obscure, reserved, scary, aesthetically a monster. fungus means infesting mildew, rust, mold, parasite. that is, difficult to get rid of.
in real life it is unfortunate, but I guess I have a consensus here: we all have found ourselves having to deal with some individuals with those not-so-ideal features?
how many times we think we have met someone, we get fascinated, let them get close to us and then they transform into a person with a conscience as repugnant as a man with a hunchback and warts.
then, and around here there are a tremendous array of samples, there are the fungus: parasites, opportunists, gold diggers who, until you find out (or they make you realize) get away with it and utilize people.
may the new year + decade create a vacuum, a black hole, a blizzard, a tornado to collect them all and make them disappear. or at least their bad intentions.
still dreaming
"What were your dreams when you were younger?"
Today I happened to read the question and thousand things came up, but not an answer. I don’t remember and it sounds terrible, I feel compelled to come up with something. If I concentrate my thoughts, I will surely remember.
Of course, how can I not have dreamt to become a veterinarian? I remember my mom wanting to be a stewardess to travel the world … but I didn’t. One of my brothers wanted to be a fireman, great. Not me. My daughter wants to be a writer and get into Princeton. Chapeau! Still don’t remember. Is this selective memory or a senile moment?
Still, I really didn’t want to be anybody. Lack of ambition and goals set?
Don’t think too much, just answer, I invited myself.
I did not have dreams when young, I was living my life enjoying being a girl. I wasn’t thinking at what I wanted from my life. I left dreams, illusions, expectations, delusions, wishes, goals, prospects, ideals to when I was older. Weak theory to support considering my favorite book is “The Little Prince”. There is no bigger dreamer: the planet, the rose, the elephant, the snake and the hat …
Anyhow, I didn’t stop there and randomly asked my closest friends and the answers were the most disparate:
"Still young and dreaming!". "I always dream and will do it forever!"
The word dream was interpreted night dream and someone told me that they still remember their recurrent dreams being nightmares (thank God they didn’t come true!)
Now.
This coming in the moment of the year when I review my 2009 resolutions (accomplished and failed) and list the new ones for 2010 is insanely appropriate. How inspiring is to begin the list with the exhortation: Dream!
Happy New Year.
please, please, please
the perfect holiday movie came out: a story of a humble, hardworking girl, a frog, a prince and a dream come true: the Prince.
through the words of my daughter, “once, her father once told her to seek for the North Star and make a wish. at night, when in bed, she peeked through the curtains, found the star in the dark blue sky, squeezed her eyes and heart and … please, please, please… made her wish”.
it was her gift for her birthday: all he could afford. he was not there anymore when it came true, however it did and it was his life’s celebration.
touching thoughts for the best time of the year to make a wish, under the mistletoe or looking at the star, it doesn’t matter. what it does is the intensity of that squeeze.
may this be my wish for the biggest wishes come true for each of you. remember not to say it loud nor to share it with anybody, just squeeze your heart and look at it before shipping it to the North Star.
believe you can, accept yourself and the dream will come true.
the "workerist"
we have heard it one too many times.
no more splurging, just cautiously adjust to the times and pause.
so here’s how it goes.
"how could I resist those perfect black platform booties I have been searching for since the September Vogue came out. that’s an investment I will wear every day."
then.
"remember I always wanted that black Tuxedo jacket with satin lapels? they called me they had my size left and it’s a sign. it will last forever, it’s a closet staple that even girlie will be able to enjoy it when she grows up."
now, I must complete the look with a white tank and black sequined leggings and I can easily do it with less than $50 and still be fabulous. the perfect envelope clutch and some bib black onyx necklace I found at the Sunday’s flea market. here is where the ”workerist” comes out. that’s where Haute Gamme meets Hobo. it is the Depression Era of 2009. they also call us “frugalista”, which for some reasons reminds me of the latest Paris Chanel show: barn, hay and Couture.
