Tenth page III

 

Should I have the coffee or have my lunch. I’ not sure. I’m not that hungry, I guess the coffee then. I had the pasta. I’m letting the coffee for later. The night is here, giving me some company,  but it’s time to abort. It’s time to go to the bathroom and see if I can take it from there. It’s tricky. Inspiration is not always invited and there seems to be a sort of misunderstanding between my disposition and the words I would like to convey; they hide from me when I need them served in this text. Overthink.  Overtime.  Overlooking. I’m not over. Not yet. I guess I’ll have to catch them on another occasion.

 

 

We are more prone to circumstances.  I’ve been thinking about that a lot. Circumstances make people move out. I never planned it, I never even imagined it. There are so many convictions we called them so jut because of the circumstances, and how easy we move along to something different. A friend of mine shared a video of a Venezuelan comedian I used to admire. Everything he said sounded to funny and smart. I loved him. I saw this video he shared and I found it boring, without any spark of wisdom. I didn’t even see the joke in it. I told him: estoy pure, but I know it wasn’t because I’m getting old, it was because the circumstances changed. I’m not that guy anymore,  I’m another person. I can see it when I read myself through these words. This is like a mirror, and as mirror I’m just reflecting what I am now. I don’t feel proud, but I don’t feel ashamed either.  Now I get it. So, for what this worth, if any bit at all, take a look at the circumstances that put you where you are now. You are that change, you are not what you think of yourself,  and certainly you are not what others think about you. You are the changes you have made of yourself.  See you later. I must deal with some conflicts.  It’s part of who I am now.  Afternoon is greeting, wearing gray just like yesterday.  I want a donut but it’s not good for the overweight. I get Muse in my ear, waiting for four o’clock to hit the road. I was thinking about a case, about those people who pay for hope and those who charge for the service. I was reading an add explaining – or promoting. It looked more like an offer – why we should hire them as preparers, (Yes, preparer is a job. The preparer of your case, your personal case in hands of strangers) I’m not sure of how this works out for the needed one. I want to believe that insecurity holds a debt and we must pay it in order to, let’s say, not to worry about things we don’t know how to solve. I was thinking about the impulse that make us pay first without trying to understand before it. For example: you pay a car mechanic when you realize you have no idea of what’s wrong with your vehicle, and it is likely on most situations you may be in. That’s fine. Why do you think you need to pay for filing a case? Well, not everyone feels comfortable filing their own case. Not everyone feels comfortable painting their own nails. Yes. Now I get. I’m sorry. I feel dumb now. This is the kind of things we fall into when we have some time, perhaps to do something you enjoy, something you stopped doing for the lack of time, and since you lost touch at it, you don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what to with this time left I have. I don’t know how to enjoy it. I’m always begging for a moment to write and, now that I have it, I play stupid with myself.  I don’t even want to think how many mistakes I am just leaving here only to follow an impulse of nothing, because these words are worthless, and worthless becomes the time wanted when having it. I wasn’t prepared for it. It’s better to want it but never have it. Thus I can justify myself on my countless procrastination.  We love to say we haven’t done this because of the circumstances,  again: circumstances.  See. Circumstances make wise or stupid. Only time will tell. Yes. Again,  who are we? What are we? What have we been so far? We have lost a lot. There’s a resentment on site and we need to hide it. Nobody wants to deal with it. Let’s have a drink instead. It was a great night. Hope again made its way and kept us going. We just need to hold on but it’s not easy. My ear, again. It’s cold. The day ended well. I had three donuts today. I feel guilty now. I need to get some sleep. Tomorrow it’s Friday, let’s see what’s for us.   Beers time. Friday night. The poor don’t get too many choices, but fortunately there’s something for alcohol, so I take it. We usually drown our sorrows like that. Just to forget for a while. To remember later. To make a space in time for relaxing.  I’m relaxed now. I was wondering if you are into me, or it just me that I imagine it. Let’s say it is so, and that it applies to many other things. So that smile I take for myself could just be a polite gesture, but I insist in taking it as a sort of flirt and then I make up a whole love story in my head, just because of that smile.  I get it. I’m not sad about it. I just wonder if it has been this way in the past too. We get to an age that our wondering is leaning more towards the how would have been rather than how would it be. I think it could be a symptom of middle age crisis, or not. May be this is just an exercise of mirroring thoughts through words. Do I have the words I need to see my thoughts in perspective? I’m trying to find it out. And you’re here with me, wondering where could I be taking you to. Too many unnecessary wondering written now. Let’s move on to the news, Venezuelan news. A few years ago, a guy was caught by foreign authorities since he was wanted for, among other things, money laundry on behalf Venezuelan regime. He was extradited to United States for justice. A big wave o news and opinions floated all over the internet  the media. The constant topic among immigrants: the guy will talk, the guy will snitch, this is end of Maduro’s era. The guy is free now and in Venezuela with his family, and also rich, perhaps even richer than he was when he was caught. I remember how powerful such an illusion was. People were making plans about when and what to do at their return. No one talks about it now. I don’t know if the silence represents the grief,  or if that is how we manifest our disappointment now, since social media doesn’t seem to hold such feelings on their posts anymore. No one wants to be labeled as hater, specially when most of the posts are about joy and good life, even if it’s not true. So the silence is grief, and pain at this time. I’m bringing this up because I read there is a new money launder from the government, and he is somewhat holding a contraposition over the one caught and freed. So the problem, as you see, is turning  deeper and deeper without any possible solution soon. 

Zero page II

 

Hello! It feels surreal to actually think you might be reading this. I still gravitate and wonder where all these thoughts go when I’m not thinking. You see, I find hard to get they are stored somewhere in my head like our mind features a type of hard disk. I find it hard because memories change, and they ended up attached to a feeling, a feeling that can turn into something else. For example, the anger linked to a moment can turn into resentment, or forgiveness, and so the memory. It’s almost impossible to keep it as it happened. Garcia Marquez said, or so I read, that life is not that one we lived but the one we remember, and how we remember it to tell others about it. I’m translating here. It might come out a little different, but you get me. Especially you! Yeah, the voices, but we’re not paying attention,  and I’m still hoping for the financial help. So how do we bring them up to context. That’s another one: context. Are we going to be understood soon?

 

Sunday night. Too much food. Too many beers. I feel like I can’t do what I must when sitting in the bathroom. The let go is not happening and there are things I have to do after. This is another episode of time discount. I’ve said already that the time spent while waiting in the car should be discounted. Well, this time Too. I’m going to stand up willing to come back again because I didn’t do it. I can wait a little longer, but I don’t know how much would it be.  It’s better to cut now and restart later, despite the hours of sleep. I will compromise them. There’s always something.  Something’s always wrong,  like the song. That’s so nineties,  right? Little problems germinated in our routines, so they can grow. We raise them, indeed. Somehow we are prone to keep them for a while before taking care of them. A problem is always a good topic to start a conversation, and when it is used for such purposes, it works out pretty well as catalyst to get people’s opinion and therefore judge them. Does she care about me? What was that she told me when I talked about my problem? It is time consuming and I’m not sure if we get any discount on it. I realized they are several the scenarios where we spend – waste – our time… and it won’t come back. I have this feeling that I could have spent it more wisely,  but then I check the phone and I read that I spend about ten hours weekly on social media. That’s enough evidence to understand why I’m getting dumber while I think I’m smarter.  It’s funny because in this case, our perception works as it does with a mirror: what you see is sort of beautified by idea of oneself in front of others. So we might not be as cute as we internally see ourselves, or even uglier, fatter, shorter, more repulsive than we actually think we are if that’s the case. Shall we be sad at it? Of course not. This is life and it shouldn’t be wasted through social media scrolling.  What if I’m repulsive? Try to understand why you are and before whom. There might be a chance you’re biased by the persistence of being accepted where you don’t belong, or feel related to. Am I biased? I have to discover it. Are these words biased? Absolutely. That’s why love writing.  Nobody cares about my thoughts but God, so I just write and write until I get rich or bored or both. In the meantime, poverty keeps me inside paragraphs of self acknowledgement. Learning how to look up while I’m down. I’ve been down for too long but I won’t complain. I know nothing else, and my concept of further is limited by my obligations,  so I just gravitate among the words I serve and the music I play for myself. Don’t get me wrong.  I have a lot of joy along with this. I have personal accomplishments and a beautiful family. So let’s keep this life going and provide whatever lies inside of me to tell about my people, and myself.  See you later.

 

A rainy morning.  Eggs are being cooked.  Coffee is brewing.  I haven’t been able to enjoy these magnesium nights. We’ll get to it. Back to 2023, the need to move was unavoidable.  This is forth place and we’ll probably keep going until we find the right one. Tuesday is on the move. I came early for work, I have just spent like forty minutes only on social media. I didn’t get anything from it: no news, no knowledge, no thoughts, just forty minutes away from my life. I’m hungry now. I was laughing at myself because every time I raise my arms the sweater I’m wearing goes up too and my belly gets exposed. This could be something when we’re chubby. We are always some sort ashamed for not having a better body. It is like social media, like smoking: we know what we have to do, only we don’t want to, and that opens up a variety of meanings. What do we want? We get this mix from our desires, our duties and the alienation of both. I need a coffee. Once again, I need another job. It would be great if it could be at writing but I’ve been bypassed too many times. I’ve been rejected more as a writer than as a lover, and I’ve been rejected at lot. So, back in here, back again to 2023. Winter was over and spring came full of hope. I was reading about the block chain technology. As many others, I also fell into the illusion of earning money without working too hard for it. I read about SEC and Tokens. To be honest, I have no clue. I still don’t understand it, but then it felt like wisdom granted from the Akhasic Records, everything looked so clear at that time. Now such knowledge seems to fade away like the smoke, like the faith. Like the money I earn from hard work.  This story won’t promise an end, perhaps closure; a closure of an era. We need to be able to look back and understand that we had to leave Venezuela. That despite how bad we miss Caracas, we had to tell her see you later, and later won’t be any soon. Let’s bring new music to our ears. Let’s contemplate our current surroundings.  There’s silence,  I can hear the fingers dancing on computer keyboards. Each cubicle is covered. A need for privacy. Someone doesn’t want to be seen nor head. The air-conditioning is fine. It’s raining outside. I can hear a few coughs from time to time. I close my eyes and go back…