Third page V

 

A new today. Same worries. Why did I get those loans? Why did I move to an apartment I can’t afford? Now that I’m putting it in perspective,  it sort of makes no sense. If I knew I wouldn’t, then why I did it, right? There it is: did I know it? Did I really know it? Now it is popping up: we never knew it! We have a sense of knowing it and, by that sense, we have taken most of the chances we now have to pay for. I’m just catching my consciousness: we figure a landscape we see as future, and since we are the painters, we hold every single brush we are going to need; then time goes by and we don’t see any painting. The switch between tangible and figurative is in our head. Our mind simply decides what to believe. I just thought it tangible. As a matter of fact, I replaced If with When, and when never got to exist because, as long as something is conditioned; subjected to, time is relative, and relativeness in time could take a whole life. Now such whole is empty, like a true hole, a void. An existential void we better overcome for our children. Let’s get delusional a little: we feel this whole out of the abstraction, and, perhaps emptiness out of these small concretes we’ve been picking as problems. If we assume that it is so, problems are just part of the big abstract, therefore our being should not be defined by those picks. Let’s call them picks from now on. Evening is coming. A bottle of wine is waiting at home. I’m not working right now. I’m just waiting for someone to go home. No wine yet. I don’t know why my mind is so tired. It’s raining.  Maybe that’s why I haven’t been able to sit on the balcony.  Contemplation is important for thoughts.  I need some music. Not too dark. Not too early either. A new day to wonder. I pushed myself to spend a few unnecessary minutes scrolling on the screen. I guess it’s because of the need to it. How could I help someone if I can’t even refrain from it. I need to read more about it. Meanwhile, wine awaits. Perhaps today paints better but it’s not. Not at all. Here I am, trying to serve a few words holding a glass of Cabernet. Sunrise at last. No work today and I’m worried already but, since I can’t do anything about it,  I’m going to watch the view for the first time again since some ago. It's curious that when reread oneself, days are mixed in the same paragraph. This one is an example.  It adds a bit of neurosis to the statement,  it kind of makes  narrative look like someone who wants a cigarettes so bad but there isn’t any around. The point is, if that is actually how this is perceived,  then this tale going somewhere despite of everything. 

 

I have to take advantage of this moment.  I never have this chance but I really need to get indoors and go to the bathroom, unfortunately.  I’m sure, or at least I want to believe, that I’m not alone when it comes to tell moments like these. There’s always something we have to cut out of the sudden. Including scrolling,  and yes, it is ironic. An uncommon afternoon for contemplation. Worries come and go. I feel like I want to get something to drink but I haven’t made up my mind. For some reason I totally ignore, it seems like I need a sort of approval for everyone here at home, but wait, don’t get the wrong idea, I just don’t want to go out, knowing I may have something else to bring. So here I am, waiting, waiting to ask while thinking about writing. I want to let go something but I’m not sure what it could be. I saw a person at the supermarket. I went to the supermarket yesterday and I, I met a woman, that woman was from the same country I am. It was an interesting encounter because she told me that there was a Venezuelan community near by. I felt like: why? I mean, yes, it's good to know people from your same country, because we can share impressions since we have the same culture. It would be good, it would be fine, it would be… it would make you feel better but, it doesn’t mean that we are going to become friends instantly,  and that is the thing that I want to talk about; that’s what I want to put here in words: we are a very new community, so we have never done this before. Moving out is not in our culture. I’ve said it more than once. I’ve written about it more than once, the fact that we are a new community of immigrants, pushes us – or so we think – to  be like the rest of the communities, and we don’t have to push ourselves to it. I mean, other communities are better organized because they have been doing it for years; for a long time. We might just learn our own process, but this need to keep up grows strong, so strong, that we feel the impulse to compete like this were some sort finals and like there were a price we must win at any cost. No. I don’t think so. I acknowledge the effort but it is a bit rushed.  Time will tell. It is a slow process: another long-term endeavor. And my guess is that, again, this rush could be due to social media: you see, we look ourselves into any mirror, and that reflect we see, despite of any depression, anger, low self esteem, shyness, megalomania,  anything,  despite of anything we see, it's less ugly, or more beautiful; depending on the case, version of ourselves, and that perception fuels somehow our soul, so we keep going, or at least feel like doing it, the problem is when that perception starts facing the outside. It tends to fade in many cases. A way to keep it could be through a plan, a long-term endeavor. And there is our struggle: the now versus the later, the already versus the yet, the present continuous versus the future simple. The screen scrolling  versus the page turning. Where to be at? How often to be on? Which one shall we choose? I choose wine.