Thursday.
Not sure if it’s the throw back kind. There are plenty of things I should be
doing by now and here I am, still serving words to the void. Is it a void? I
don’t think so, I just haven’t found a more appropriate word for it. You see, When
you post something word-like basis, you don’t get the same chance for
randomness that, for instance; a photo, or a video, so it will be hard for a
text to catch someone’s attention over a unknown author; the chances are
uncertain, but uncertainty can’t be measure for a fact, therefore we only guess
in this case, and we tend to guess because we’re giving it a thought, which also means consideration, and, as we
may come around, there’s a chance to consider when we guess, and such a
possible path for consideration will surely provide us all with perspective.
The blocks of this chain once started out as a guess, could become a
perspective when driven by hope, or persistence; and here we have another chain
as well. Let’s keep trying until we reach a suitable deconstruction for this
blocks we’re moving, and moving, until we get the value we’ve been searching
during all this journey. Saturday
evening: adulthood is more about staying home, have some wine, and rest;
relaxed. In fact it sounds like a great plan; perhaps watching some TV too. A
weird Tuesday: two days before Thanksgiving. I know it’s not our holiday but it
is an important one where I live and it will be a tradition for my son. Misery
likes company, but that’s not what I want to say. Why do we take the blame when
we haven’t done anything? Enjoy the silence is sounding. Wednesday
night. Slipknot comes after. I’m alone; unfit for solving any dispute. Man is sometimes
placed in situations in which he is only there to hold on and for nothing. This
is one of those days. I just wonder why. I mean, what’s the point. Why the
impulse? What for? I don’t know. It seems like there is some sort of force
beyond my understanding, pushing me to bear situations just because, and not
for any specific purpose. That’s the point of existentialism. Do with life
whatever life put you to live. I think I get it. Fine. But why? I mean, what a
waste of energy and essence. I’m here wondering why. I guess work helps avoid
this: I need to go to work, maybe? Perhaps change this life. What about what I
feel? Am I allowed to convey my feelings to anywhere? To somewhere? And if so, what
would be the point? I just need to figure it out… but it’s hard. It seems like
I know what I should do but I don’t want to. Fine, but why I don’t want to?
Love is something, definitely, and I
drink to that. Ghost is sounding on TV. Let’s just enjoy it. Music is a
shelter in its own way. So let’s find some rest there. There’s nowhere to go
right now. We made it to Thursday once more. Wine awaits and so the
turkey, because it’s not done. First
bottle while making it, my wife, not me, but before that I’m sticking with my
boy: he’s taking a nap. A toddler sleeping is a moment for everyone else to do
what they have to do. I’m watching him, by the way. Moody is an interesting
word, especially when we understand how far can it cover when talking about
someone, or something. Another sigh with
no name, another look up without any answer.
Words don’t want to rain, they chose wind; cold wind, over faces, to
make us look down instead. The answer lies within, I guess. It’s a song
too, as a matter of fact. Pardon my English,
just in case. Unfinished works, we have plenty, specially during the
Chávez era. I heard this joke where, at some point in a far future, such works will
be thought as ancient remains from an extinct civilization. Actually that’s how
they look like right now. Guarenas, Guatire, what a couple of places.
Maracay, Coro, and several others: places we want to call cities
and, once we get there, once we share with their people, we start getting the
idea of why (and perhaps how) the country took the turn it took, and maybe, where
it ended up nowadays. Our immigrant community is full of people from such
places. That explains pretty much a lot of things, now we’re building a better
version of what we have been, and it is quite challenging, but here we stand:
struggling to prosper, for our children mostly, in particular. Sunday, indoors, it’s cold outside, sunny, but cold. TV for now. Still indoors,
still cold. The sun is wiping some clouds away to give us some blue in spite of
the gray; gray is actually feeling a bit cold. We should give more hugs indeed.
There’s no milk, I should get some. Rainy Monday. A bitter taste after knowing
some about certain expenses. The sound of industry, once more. Not so sure if it’s the sound of
progress anymore. Actually I started
seeing progress as an abstraction, kind of like happiness, I mean: there is not a specific, countable
situation beforehand, in which you can state you’ll be happy once you get there,
notwithstanding hope or faith. It is more a promise to keep and a feeling to
fulfill, understanding that circumstances are personal, and personal are the
insights from any of them. Progress gravitate in that very spectrum as well, in
my opinion. And we meet halfway as always. I sent an email several times, and
still don’t know if I said what I wanted to say. What if history has some of
it? Socrates and Plato, or Christopher Columbus, the very Simon Bolivar; whose good
part of his life we’ve told about comes from the what it’s written according to
O’Leary. Who said those lives, as we learned them, are not in fact a halfway of
different people through the years. The way we find out about history is pretty
much the same for fiction: languages trying to become a thought and survive as
means of information despite the barriers of time. We get what we want to get
from these combinations of letters. Even when it’s recorded, like a public
speech, we won’t get it whole unless we know the person and the nature of the
message. Only that mostly we tend to cherry pick and fit it in our story, or
agenda; whatever that strengthens our position over that we think…. But words don’t
obey and thoughts have learned how to remain silent and within. That’s how the survive, we just borrow them
for a while, until we move on and step into our next tribulations. I always think about the value of this, You
have to understand me, I really need the money, but at the same time I know,
this is just replacing time spent on social media, I still get tired of them
sometimes. Although there’s always
someone, a picture, something, that
keeps me coming back to it, kind of like a vice. Tomorrow will be an important day for
Venezuela, there will be a referendum to
decide whether or not the government should claim The Esequibo as venezuelan
territory. If it turns out that they have to, that might mean going to war
against Guyana, or at least that’s how the media is putting it. I’m still
waiting for what comes after. True intentions will reveal themselves after the
results, but we could guess, for instance, will it depend on how many people attend
to vote tomorrow? And if so, what if numbers aren’t enough? We’re talking about
people in power for more than twenty years, despite the rejection, despite the sanctions, despite the
overwhelming unpopularity; do they see an opportunity here we don’t see? We
have to wait. It might be what I want to call their circus delay, meaning that
they got us used to any move, specially embarrassing, to keep procrastinating
and thus remain in power. This very referendum could be one of those moves.
Opposition media and opinioners have
been posting pictures of empty voting centers. Let’s see what the clowns have
to declare at the end of the day.
