Second page III

Resentment is something very tight to our society over these years. The kind I'm bringing it up is the immigrant kind. Those who left the country are in its majority resentful on anything related somehow to the government and, based on what it's missing in them, they do have point. We’re here because we lost something. I just wonder if there might be a chance that some of such resentment may have been taken from the media's deconstruction, and I wonder about it because it is a bit hard for me to be convinced that a huge group of people can have the same opinion over the same thing embracing the same feeling. I mean, a way for that, it occurs to me, such a thing get to happen; is through indoctrination, but the point is that most people feel it is spontaneous, and with that inside your head, it is hard to break it down. Every argument that is swallowed entirely leads to a conviction that takes you to a fanatic state. I was thinking about those famous "two minutes of hate". I see  this resentment of ours  to a certain point, that way. I mean, media brought these thesis to, let's say, justify, in a way, that what took the country to the crisis, and what forced so many people to leave, might hold several people accountable. Media needs to sell a narrative convincing enough to their consumers, that they can understand it as a political problem, and, very important,  that it could have been prevented by choosing different when it came to vote. Politicians need believers and, a way to preserve them, is through blame. Whatever happened must be someone’s fault. Social media brought up these theories then: one of those was, that people then got tired of the political establishment before Chavez's era; and therefore pushed for this change that ended up in a disaster, phrasing it in a way, that those who once believed in the dictator, couldn't see what was coming with such political turn. The other one was more like a segregate type. The other one went on stating that ignorant people,  and by ignorant they meant the poor and the uneducated; and by uneducated they mean those who did not go to college; blinded by their alleged resentment (not the same resentment from the present days, and that is interesting too) instead of keeping up with the political establishment,  went and voted for Chávez. Both theories shows a reality where regular people had some power, indeed, of setting the path for the future of the country, and by choosing wrong (understanding wrong as Chavez's movement) such a promising future allegedly heading with the former political crew, lost its chance of achievement.
 
Many people bought those theories at their own  convenience.  Those who once believed in Chávez support this argument in which they were promised something it did not become true. It is more like they were scammed. If we think about it, it is so interesting and intriguing realizing that there are in fact people out there convinced that they could have done it otherwise but they were fooled by the political power, or worse; by a politician. I suppose that those are the same people who think that taking basic English classes will make recruiters consider them for high position roles. Now the others are something else. First, we can't know that for sure, but assuming they stand from a position of truth,  these ones have always claimed they never voted for Chávez; and that they never believed in him, which is something that, judging by how everything ended up, they were right from their angle,  so they have been taking pride ever since to a point that they see themselves elevated, or distinguished, from the ignorant kind (which means everyone else) and of course; those were mostly who started leaving the country. That sort of dichotomy was well sold. Some people feel regret from what I think it is an induced guilt, and some others stick with their anger as pride.
 
As time went by those arguments became pretty much the only logical explanation for understanding the disaster.  The deconstruction was total. But what if we take a few more glances, I mean. We can allow ourselves to wonder, for instance, who paid for Chávez appearances on national TV? Who paid for all those trips to Cuba? He started campaigning not so long after he was discharged from prison. All the media who interviewed him when he was in jail, I mean. Do you guys really think that voting had something to do with it? Do you think it ever mattered whether you believed in him or not?  Chávez held meetings with almost every single important ruler of his time: from Bill Clinton to Saddam Hussein. From the Queen of England to Fidel Castro and so on. Was it there any important protest from the media, or those who didn't believe in him then, when he reformed the constitution? Chávez arose because Real Power wanted him there. Wherever such real power comes from, which is not my intention to talk about. Power is power, Cercei would say. The thing is that these arguments won't cover all the doubts but people agreed with them only because of the social media rephrase, and while one group points out at the other for their self glorification, the obvious consensus should be that we're all to blame but not for any choosing, but for thinking that it has been an actual cause of it. It seems only a minority is willing to accept it. In the meantime,  every new immigrant must adapt his story to one of these thesis. Every immigrant who might have agreed with any project of Chávez, regardless how quickly that person stopped it,  or came around, must, either deny it like he never did it, or carry with such a burden and acknowledge his regret. We are going to hear a lot about it until the deconstruction turns these conceptions into a new gate of perception. Just like they've been doing within the music business. 

Second page II

 

A thought as a puzzle, as a piece of a puzzle. It doesn't need to be. However, it could be for further intentions. What about those thoughts linked to a feeling. such as Nostalgia? Saudade, like the Portuguese. What about them? They could turn into data as well and therefore they can get deconstructed.  Get, yes, always get. Interesting word. We might guess then that if any of the feelings we have linked to a thought can rephrase its essence, Morality itself can be turned as wanted. These are times when Morality can be reshaped, so do beliefs. And I'm still trying to inhale my smoke Faith and exhale my smoke will with this breath I can't catch but I never stop chasing, because I know that despite of the smoke, my faith and my will somehow flow within.

 

Four years have gone by. We decided it after the big power outage in March of 2019. We should have done it earlier but that's never been us; Venezuelans were used to stay together with their families but even family can be broken down from the power. The government,  the Venezuelan government. It's hard to explain it given the differences with other countries'. In 1999 the constitution was changed; a new way of democracy has risen. A democracy where the president has more power than any other institution.  Of course: how could such a thing have been done? By elections.  Elections are the weapon that threatens free will. Ironic,  right? One of the first thing that the new constitution brought was the new distribution of Power. The election office was, let's say, elevated to a State Power. You see. I read once that in some other countries this division is not called power but administration,  or public administration. In Venezuela the word it was always used is Power, so the Power, formerly divided in three, got then divided by five, and the elections office was named then The Electoral Power. I'm not going to say that this was the cause of the crisis. It had something to do, of course, but a lot of things happened and there are a lot of information better exposed  and explained about it. I just want to show this as an example of deconstruction. Elections are worldwide known (or shown) as one pillar of democracy, or so we thought before the disaster.  Now Venezuelans have a different approach.  The opposition and government acolytes started breaking down several definitions so people's perception could  rephrase their understanding, all these through Social media; forth generation war, they called it. There were intense moments, along with a waterfall of decisions made in order to undermine whatever concept of freedom we had, and always in the name of democracy. One of the most important TV  Channels was shut down from national broadcasting. On one side we talked about a shut down and on the other they claimed it was a no renewal of the contract.  You see: concepts and broken down definitions.

 

Years before that, the government released this plan called Exchange Control, in which every foreign currency exchange must be done through the government's administration.  People got used to two exchange rates: the official one and the black market one. This economic plan took the country to one of the biggest depression ever, forcing people to rethink their lives. Politicians from both sides took advantage of this, of course. An advantage that went for a division. They got what they wanted: thousands of people fighting each other over their political beliefs. Yes, this big rephrase made people see this as a political belief! Society got divided in Chavistas and Opositores. The first ones supported the government and the second ones, the opposition.  As the crisis rises, people started moving out. For those who stayed, they stood for smoke faith and smoke will on politicians, I presume.  A lot has been said about everyone but the thing is that those who left, have left something that social media hasn't yet defined but that I’m thinking about it, it may not go by any sort of definition. Perhaps it’s more like a cheap trick of misdirection. We, specially the Generation X ones, got, with the assistance of time, and so many personal problems, that beliefs has more to do with power than culture. Social media has set several paths, I want to mention two: the path of the resentment and the path of the new hope. From the resentment, the idea that has been sold is that every single men from the government must pay back, and with that wave of anger, poor people too. Anyone who ever supported the dictator must pay debt somehow because of the suffering of the now immigrants.  From the new hope path, there is this other side trying to sell that people are struggling so hard to get through, and they deserve appreciation.  One side celebrates any sort of punishment,  and the other  celebrates any attempt of support for those who stay and work hard in the country. Working hard has been deconstructed too, from the way I see it. For instance when is Working not hard, I wonder?  

Second Page

A first break. A break that goes  fast and only with coffee. No food. This is the moment in which I should contemplate and place some thoughts. I kind of feel inspired by some of my workmates.  The way they keep joy and enthusiasm despite the routine is admirable.  I'm not like them but the truth is that somehow they make me forget about my situation for a while. I came up with this because I kind of forgot what I was going to write about. People need to deal with problems everyday; I believe that half of those problems come as a consequence from pretending, to a  certain point, something we are not. The other half tend to be more about knowledge or experience on certain situations.  For example,  many people confuse arrogance with honesty, claiming that they act like that because they are too honest and therefore they can’t lie. This, let’s say, type of  honesty, is hypocrisy. When someone approaches claiming that those hard words he said were meant to be out of honesty, it's not. It's just an ignorant ego stealing space and time with a poor justification, the thing is the conviction,  the one making you stick with that idea of some righteousness learned from an old movie, the kind of movie in which the main character can take a whole city to the ground just to prove that the villain is wrong. I guess the mind works kind of like: when something is missing, a word, a concept, a place, even a feeling, the brain takes whatever closest it can get. Pretend, yes. There is always something we take for granted based on those things we ignore. However what I want to bring up is if we ignore it accidentally or we choose to ignore it.  What in us might determine it? I guess it's our will... But what if I say that those drags of smoke might be what brings faith and will to the same thought,  to the same reflection?  We should acknowledge it: every promise falls into our convictions and we carry it through the smoke. Maybe that's why it fades; because of the anxiety.  Yellow teeth resembles so many promises that couldn't be kept. So the fingers. Specially our hands. How far has this metaphor changed from its meaning. In my hands, in my arms.

 
We keep the faith, and the will, somewhere in the air, in this room, and at this time.  How about health? Health seems to be more like a concept rather than a name. It varies over the years and the places. Covid-19 has clarified that pretty well. In fact, Covid-19 has shown the world that religions don't have the exclusive on closed-minded fanatics. We have always put science in a higher place over any other form of thinking, so these times have brought more angles and perspectives on that. Due to my age, I have had the chance to see the establishment of the cell phone in our society.  I remember when SMS messages came up for the first time and how was, from my angle, their impact back then. I remember it started out kind of like Twitter did: with a limited number of characters and no symbols such as emoticons or gif files at all. It was about the plane text. Sometimes I think about it and wonder whether inventors (tech inventors, I mean) hoped that society would get communicated by the establishment of the text message. Did any of them ever consider the grammatical implications? There is this uncomfortable thing with the information as well: I mean, first, this sort of no-grammatical-considerations veil to cover indeed this another veil which is the veracity of the information. I believe it started with the email, sure,  but when I try to set my own block of thoughts, I might see a pattern,  a route, a path for the information to get deconstructed in data, so thoughts may lose purpose afterward being conducted on a wave of post-truth.  What are thoughts without grammar? Words, words served for multiple puzzles. Do you know the puzzle you’re solving through your words? 

First page VI

Another toilet morning. A holiday’s next day has begun. Today It’s a holiday in Venezuela. Some noises come through the walls as they had their own language. It’s like If there was a kid playing with his blocks and they were the building we live in. Building is a fine word for describing these type of structures. A few days have gone by. I saw something good on social media: the four missing kids in Colombia were found alive. The reported was about to cry while giving the news and I just cried myself while watching. That was a couple of weeks ago. A month, perhaps. Good news to bring up. It's like the reporter then said: this is full of hope, and I agree with her. God bless those children! I wanted to phrase a little bit about faith again; Smoke Faith, as I've named it. It occurs to me that if I'm going public with these words I should go back with this idea and deal with it over and over until I have pleased myself out of explanation. Supposing it makes any sense at all. So here it goes: I kind of forgot what I've written so far about it, but I'm pretty sure I'm not getting far from the idea. Smoke Faith: I hate the smell of the smoke. I used to love it. I mean, there was a time in which I related that smell with having a good time in so many ways. Now I feel different about it. It's not that I really hate it. It's just that it now recalls worries and I think I’m some fed up with that. Push. Someone pushes for whatever reason his ego demands, and when such a push comes dressed up as faith, it could be hard to get a better perspective. The thing is that it normally fades but does not fade away. Something remains and it can grow again, like the smoke. After all, we're made out of dust. Dust. Dusty. What is the substance of my beliefs? Time is sand in my hands, Cerati sings in my head. I'm not even listening to the music I used to. I used to be this kind of person who recorded tapes from a selection of different albums. That implied, if you guys can recall, taking the time for each and every song and listening to them completely while being recorded. I guess that's why listening to such self selections hasn't been something that people who work a lot could do. I guess that's how the remote control got its reign, a reign now conquered by social media. I guess that's why I've become one those. I've been conquered too.

Now it's the time for short answers: now the self selection is more like; a bunch of yes and noes along with this frustration that comes from not choosing properly when to accept or refuse. Overtime. Overtime? Yes. Sundays? Yes. Night shift? Yes. Do you actually get some rest in the morning? No. Mail. Letters. Letters asking for payments you didn't know you had. Dates due, of course. You must call, and then rest. Can you? And yet you just keep thinking about that song, the one that makes you remember and evoke. Technology paid back al least with that. By letting us Nostalgia. Close your eyes. There's no time to listen to it entirely; live version has this solo but you just get interrupted: some message, something you forgot besides the debt. Now they are two calls and your English is not good enough to complain properly, so it will be more of short answers, and in the end you couldn’t get any rest. Is that too often? To my taste, yes!

Thus a new day comes and go by immersed in the routine. A bath, a shower, a sunset without a view. The worries that visit and don’t want to go. I've managed to listen to a couple of songs, awesomely, and by accident; I listened to them both entirely. Now I feel guilty about it. Why? Why sometimes giving yourself a little pleasure feels like you're doing something you shouldn't? Time to clock in. “When the doves cry” from Prince is playing in my earbuds. Let's walk. Music down. We're not allowed to play music on equipment nor using the cell phone. Breaks: one and two. What is this tiredness? Is it something mind-over-body thing?? It could be the smoke; the faith fading into a smell all over our clothes. We breathe it, so we feel it even when we are naked. Naked we want to be. Naked of prejudices to obey peacefully and get through with this we have. What do we have, I wonder? We have debts for balance, but we never get Naked from it. That's why the faith is just smoke. Let's drag us out. I was in this endless wondering every time it comes to talk about our life in Venezuela: this bittersweet taste for memories. What we're longing; feeling nostalgic for, and immediately after, the reasons that made us move out. I guess this is what being an immigrant is about: never stop missing and never stop resenting. Will my kids get this in the future? Who knows!

About Get. Get is an interesting word. Spanish language doesn't have it like that. For Hispanics the word get is expressed through several different words that, taking them closely, they may not mean get as it is English. So when you say: 'I got you' in so many talks, that is not exactly something we use in Spanish language. With that being said (written) I may not be getting this and you may be getting it different. However we meet halfway, and it turns out that it actually works pretty decent for both sides of the tale. So in my halfway message and your halfway eyes, I want to serve these words as a claim to this life we wonder if we ever chose but we now have to deal with. I'm not going to lie, I feel very lonely. This life as an immigrant has made me see through angles I would have liked not to meet. Sometimes the body may learn from theory and not by living the actual experience but I need to keep going. My son needs it, the upcoming one needs it. So let's face it. Let's fight another day. I am constantly wondering what is this thing that sort of controls me? I am sure that there is something out there that holds you back and make you refrain from letting yourself go and do what you know it's best for you: I think twice to check if what I'm about to say may be offensive to someone. I mean, why? Why am I programed this way? Who planted this need of considering everything? Am I someone's pet? If so, that person don't like me that much. During moments like this, my mind works on an attempt of putting pieces together: blocks of thoughts, parts o a certain memory; pieces from a past time or doubts born from the hesitation, from a blurry pictured future; pieces that I can switch when I come around, moving pieces from one place to another, in some way: decorating, something I remember I would have liked to do along with a short list of things I have to buy tomorrow, which is when I get paid: get, bringing back to an eyes closed vision that time in Paris, in Lisbon, and smile. I want to take my children there. Drums, drums playing. Everything comes with grooves and beats. I can’t function otherwise. I miss playing the drums, by the way.