Fourth page III

 

My little man is still sleeping. I’m loading myself up of hope thanks to him. And it’s real, you know! Today it wasn’t that bad with the deliveries. I had it in a good pace. Still cloudy, and raining. It’s a bit chill too. I’m on the floor, on the carpet. This type of apartment has a carpet all over the floor. So here I am, with my little man, which is climbing the sofa over and over while I watch him and smile. I feel like I want a glass of wine but my wife and I decided to take a break (it’s Sunday) but who knows, she just went to the supermarket. Let’s see. She came back empty handed. It's time for a shower. The walls of this apartment sound like there were someone else taking a shower behind them. They talk, from what I can hear. We never feel alone. Actually feeling alone is more prompted towards being with people who don’t care about you, rather than being by yourself though. Chill. Bad mood around. It’s Monday but that doesn’t make any different from whatever day. That has more sense back home. Tuesday: dark, chill, black coffee on hand. There was a store in my dreams. I don’t remember what it was it about. Still early. I thought I could have a bit more of something to state, or wonder about and writing it here, but I just remain silent in every way. I don’t know what to do. There is this strategic move I should be smart enough to make it, but it overwhelms me. It’s like it is further from my capabilities. I hate it. I hate hesitation from myself. I feel bad enough already when realizing I’m repeating the classic pattern of not being with my boy, only because I have to work. That’s enough from a punishment. Sometimes I think that if something ever happens to me, these words won’t go public. I’m halfway from whatever goal I set up in my head, but I’m not sure how long will it take me that other half. I guess I have to honor my roots, go public incomplete, and keep going with the flow. Going with the flow is actually what I’ve been doing so far. The flow has taken me to work more and more. The flow has me worried about the car and the debts.

 

Yesterday,  I just felt tired for delivering. I forfeited it. I felt more like going published and so I did: I started posting this tale. I thought at first that I was going to slow down this impulse I’m having for writing, once I get to post the first page, – or chapter, whatever suits best – but it turns out that I’m still on it. I want to keep placing our thoughts as part of this narrative. Dark; We better get used to it. From now on, every morning is going to look as it looks now, only colder with time, and it will remain so until next summer; not even next spring, I think. More black coffee then, and more clothes for having some time here in balcony: yes, the balcony.  In order to keep ourselves writing, light must be on. That makes us one of these yellow ships floating in the dark. Like the one I’m in front of, like the one whose silhouette I have wondered about. Two more I can see at the back. Two little ones I see coming closer; it’s a car, and then another one: people going to their jobs, or just parking outside, until the school bus picks up their kids. This is the type of complex with gate bars at the entrance, we get a special magnetic key to enter, and there is a sensor that opens it when coming out. It has its timing, I guess for safety purposes; it takes a few seconds to open up, that means we have to wait to go out. If it’s not six thirty yet, you will have a few cars on your way out from those parents waiting for the school bus. It’s better to wait until six thirty five. Anxiety doesn’t like that. Anxiety is always interesting. It is always good to bring up. Clear, it’s clear: dark, but clear, the lead voice is on the engines. We get this sense of factory, of production lines, while having a coffee. I guess working is always in our heads. I was talking about that yesterday: working is so present on songs’ lyrics, not like in my culture, that there are songs for not working actually. On the other hand, it came to my mind these guys from On The Road; I think they don’t work in the story. I don’t remember it well. That’s why I tend to refrain from quoting, since I may mix references. We better stick with each other here and leave the wise ones alone in their pages. Again, dark and clear with machine sounds. A Slipknot song we could evocate out of this sensing. The coffee is a plus, weather is not warm at all. Evening at last. Nothing special to bring up, maybe a couple of things to break down. Illusions pops as wine fades, my mouth tastes the last one while my mind plays with the first one. Let’s declare: better times are coming, despite the desperation. My boy plays with his pacifier. I wonder and realize in the meantime. Hope has its own language, then I smile. I forgot if I’ve ever mentioned it, but we live near the airport,  so every few minutes we get to see (and hear) the airplanes. When it’s dark, kind of like now, airplanes look more a bit like spaceships, or so I see them, and they add some momentum to this sort of symphony I whiteness every time I sit by myself in the balcony. If this were a rock song, the airplane passing sound would be the epic drum fill, like the one in Tom Sawyer. It doesn’t look that dark today. It’s a bit cold, but enjoyable. First break with no eating yet. I was thinking about the word break: it is so not our culture, just like this combination: go by. I don’t go by the standards you break down for me. I have my own way, and expectations will met in both. This would be the kind of sentence a machine translator might not help you with. I just checked it on Google, and it turns out that it actually works pretty well. I’m heading to the obsolete. Let’s get there in good mood then, it will be unavoidable,  so why worrying or getting mad, right? A gray rainy Saturday. It doesn’t seem to be a joyful day. Let’s see. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t, but real life tends to be less dramatic. I had a bit of wine. I didn’t feel like having more, not even as usual. One glass, one glass was fine yesterday. Today looks better out there. It looks more for a nice walk. It’s Sunday. Again, let’s see. Now that I live in an English speaking country, I’ve been getting more than I used to from songs and movies. I’m not going to lie, remember,  we meet halfway, but what I’m trying to say is, that although I don’t get to understand fully like a native speaker,  I get more every time, and that more is putting me in a position of – I guess – realizing that there are quite a lot of songs whose message is leant to express the feeling while high, or on something stronger. I have nothing against it, but it makes me smile from time to time when getting it. By the way,  there’s something I need to leave here. I don’t remember if I already had done it, but just in case, here I go: we need to work more on our capability to give space to our thoughts to flow. Thoughts need to flow. They need space. A good way to make that space bigger might be by reading more fiction, so we train our head to create platforms on which we can develop our stories, or whatever we may be getting from a lecture: the more, the better. A bigger space helps us get how tiny things can be and therefore realize that not everything, in fact; almost nothing, is about us. Two people whispering around, for example.  They might be talking about anything, not exclusively about us. That is important.  We tend to spend too much energy on others, on things we think they are about us, and that’s because our platform (if I can call it so) is not big enough to let those thoughts vanish on the oblivion. It’s like smoking in a closed bedroom. We’ll get intoxicated, and so will happen with thoughts. Let’s make them a bigger room, a bigger space. That might work as an antidote for the excessive scrolling – and depressing vibe – on social media. I made an experiment on myself.  Too many people having the greatest time everyday and every time… honestly,  that is just sad. Imagine the pressure we get to be under, that we have to share only good things. Imagine spending your day, looking for something great, something that may last no more than ten seconds, most of the times, in an attempt to marvel  several people’s eyes who just don’t give a fuck about you. And on top of that, living with the anxiety that comes out when others post nicer things. The never ending comparison match. 

Fourth page II

 

Breakfast for lunch. An hour of exercise earlier. It’s been a cool Saturday so far. Now it’s time to work. And it was fine too. I’m holding a glass of wine thinking that I’m going to take a bath with my son in a few minutes. I haven’t taken it yet, I’m about to, but I haven’t though. Sunday morning. Cloudy.  It looks like it’s going to rain. I think I’ve missed a couple of details: you see, with this obsessive-compulsive habit of scrolling the phone screen – because we just can’t (and don’t want to) stop doing it – it is very common for anyone to fall onto a monothematic stage, to a point of self limitation,  which is actually moved by the trends of social media. We don’t choose our topics, we remain inside a loop that keeps us repeating the two or three variants of that subject we probably were not thinking about, and perhaps, if having something to say of it, it wouldn’t fit with the previously established variants I was referring to. In fact this very writing is a proof of that. Then, back to the never-ending topic, I wanted to add, based on my opinion, that the change of the establishment, talking about the factors of power, brought up what we’ve been calling dictatorship. Why? And here’s my guess: a left-wing-like system will always be less democratic due to its essence,  which in my understanding, goes by the increment of rules from The State, to seize more control over the nation (and by nation I mean everybody else) The democratic appearance was given by the allegedly free speech from the media,  and the size of the industrial park. The new regime changed that. They reduced the industrial park by setting up a bunch of economic measures and procedures, forcing several owners to find abroad a place to work under more suitable circumstances. They promoted a series of new laws that made payrolls simply unsustainable for the private sector. In order to keep the nation going, the government had to sponsor pretty much everything in every aspect. That’s what they wanted, they wanted to be above the private sector. As an employer you weren’t able to let an employee go unless you had a reason that fit the criteria of the law. Such a thing is going get different angles, I know. But there is the undeniable fact that owners prerogatives were undermined,  making it subjected to question the worth of having a property, where sovereignty is not fully so. And I’m just cherry picking here. They wanted to control the currency exchange: a terrible mistake. It takes a lot professional analysis to make the world understand that phenomenon. I don’t have the words. I was just a victim like every single nor high range officials, or friend of those, in Venezuela. And those are the ones I wanted to mention in the first place: those people have found the best money and power match at the cost of the nation. In other words, we lost the country to make those people rich. Now what we have left is our disposition for a job in another country and make ends meet with it. The morning is almost over.  It's raining.  It’s been raining for a couple of hours,  maybe.  Schedule is set. I’ll be on duty in the afternoon.  Let’s hope the rain to stop then. In the meantime,  I’m having my son here with me. He’s sleeping right over my chest. I remember when he fitted whole,  that was barely two years ago. Now his legs are out, his arms are out, and eventually, I’m not going to be big enough to have him this way, so I just enjoy it while I can. There is a kind of synchronicity between the fan spinning and his breathing.  I’m always getting those type of sounds like they were the music of the world, perhaps not the world; that sounds like too big. Let’s say that’s the music of the environment, the environment I’m surrounded by. There is a beat and I usually tend to get it. Sometimes I think that we are driven by it and the fact that we can listen to it is a proof we’re not entirely on our own, and that there might be a chance that someone is setting that up to make us function somehow. Some other times I think that it is just my obsession to find songs anywhere and everywhere. There are times in which I think it is a useless capability, but once in while I think it is going to be part of brighter future. Once in a while I think I’m not going to remain poor, and that the things I’ve learned and thought may be worth to pay for, so I can teach my son a sensitivity to understand the world from there, and not only from social media standards. The sound brings words, words that acquire a shape to become a message,  a message that comes up to share it, because we are here not only to do as told, but to create and explore, explore the untouchable and make up our own language out of it. Only that it is not happening now. I mean, it is happening, but in my head, and it says there; there and in these words. Most of the time I’ve got to go to work. In fact I’ll be working in two hours from now, so I’m helping my crazy thoughts not to vanish in the oblivion, by keeping them here and whoever decides to give them shelter while reading them if ever get to it. Thus I have space to worry about my situation and work hard to get through it.