what we choose to feel…

Envious is the most common type of personality according to a study and that explains some… I was taking a look at this thing called the mind–body problem and I found that a Five-Aggregate Model is mentioned. It implies that sense impressions are always changing so behavior problems might be understood based on such readings and explanations. There’s a term in Spanish called “retraso genómico” and it embraces the thesis that day routine things go faster that our capability of understanding them, and this is because we spend so much time trying to be updated at social networks that we tend to forget the immediate real world around us. This could be why there’s more enviousness and mood changing nowadays, but I didn’t bring this just to write about social networks, millions of people do it so. I brought them up because I believe – at least I see it this way in here – that social networks have become in sort of windows which people, particularly Venezuelans, get a vision of how society behaves abroad and how far from it they feel because of the control of the currency and the political division. Thus, we get envious at everyone a lot but we control it, we hold it on hard, maybe not to lose ourselves because in the end it’s not worthy, but the feeling remains and it carries us through a path of resentment, because now we’re called new poor as a result of the new rich who government gives support to… Envious is natural but it is also what we choose to feel… 

aguantamos

No hace mucho le leí a un ilustre que el odio es un placer más elevado que el amor, ya que el último se apresura, mientras que el primero se toma su tiempo; la síntesis de la reflexión era algo como: la gente se toma su tiempo para odiar. Empiezo con esto porque, si bien es cierto que a muchos venezolanos nos desespera el acontecer de estos días, no es menos cierto que hay un cierto placer en que las cosas, estas pésimas noticias, se sigan dando. Hay muchos, incluso, que ganan dinero compilando lo que muchísimos dicen, pero no se toman el tiempo de escribirlo; ni tampoco se lo toman de esa manera. Es más, los opinadores de oficio se presumen a sí mismos críticos, y así los ve la gente, pero no es suficiente, no puede ser suficiente una crítica acompañada de una publicidad que anuncia un buen vivir. No me resulta muy efectivo que primero se compile un descontento bajo una frase como: ya no aguantamos más, para luego escuchar una publicidad de lo deliciosas que son las hamburguesas en equis sitio. Hablamos de escases en horario laboral y luego recibes un panfleto de una feria de comida el fin de semana. Bueno. A mi entender, la publicidad paga la protesta, digámoslo así, pero la verdad, no moviliza a las masas, a las masas, al parecer, las moviliza el dinero, entonces, si es dinero lo que hace falta, o publicidad, a ojos internacionales pues: no parece ser tan grave la cosa; al menos eso recogen los medios y las redes sociales. Por otro lado, y posiblemente más sincero; tenemos a nuestros embajadores: todo nacido en la tierra de Bolívar que a falta de oportunidad ha decidido marcharse, buscar la esperanza en un pueblo hermano. Esos, esos llevan a cuestas el peso de la crisis, porque no había sido costumbre marcharse... y ahora, ahora parece la única solución considerable. Más que esa de escuchar voceros del odio con cuñas y promociones...

  

Esta entrada es muy parecida a  otra, a otra muy reciente: parten de la misma cita solo que pensé que ésta iba a ser aceptada en cierto portal y no, no lo fue, pero como toda madre el que su hijo sea feo ante otros no significa que no sea el más hermoso para ella, o como lo dijo Martí (creo que fue Martí, ahorita improviso, no creo que vaya a averiguarlo precisamente ahorita) “hay un solo niño bello y cada madre lo sabe,” sé que es algo por estilo. Bueno. Este es un hijo, y aquí lo dejo para sus ojos, para sus comentarios, para sus críticas. No duden en comentar: no hay filtros en ello, son todos bienvenidos y sin moderación alguna…

along, at least...

Thoughts are always wondering until they find a head to be in, so they can finally become message, be heard; understood. A friend o mine was walking once up to work and a little rain started, not so hard, but long enough to make some puddles at the street. She was facing down, so she saw herself, her reflex, her worried expression because it was getting late for work. She didn´t talk but... she realized, because the rain made her so, that a big carelessness has covered the streets of this city: so many holes that cars hardly drive, so many people walking sad and counting their steps like there’s no reason to look up; to face towards. Such negligence is not only the government's but we're all to blame.

We're all to blame is also a song she was listening with me the night before. She's not the protesting kind, she's more careful at her appearance. Yes; that kind... that morning it was different, she did not dressed up properly, probably because she was late and because she was late she was careless, and then the rain, the puddles, her reflex and the thoughts. Tomorrow she's joining the protest. She says she's tired of the way we are ruled, the way these people spend nation's money and how narrow chances bias have become. It happened basically in a couple of days and just over a little rain, maybe over a music song. It’s hard to tell. Thought are always wondering until they find a head to be in, so they can finally become a message. They might have been waiting in the clouds that morning when nobody looked up, so they decided to show themselves as water from the sky and people saw them as their own reflexes, my friend in this case, and I've got the message from her, from the song: I am to blame as well and I shall join her tomorrow; to complain along, at least...