WHAT'S IN A SHOE?

Days going by without me writing here... And what do I do instead?

I spend whole days at uni, lying on the grass, talking to the ants and flies and birds and drinking coffee.

I look at the sky and try to hypnotize myself into cheerfulness.

Everything is connected.

And I buy shoes to become a princess. Princess shoes abound nowadays. But try to buy a plain high-heeled black shoe and you will have to walk all around town with a silly face and empty hands.

So go to visit friends, who share your shoe obsession. Eat lots of chocolate and rest from classes and work in a luxurious yet crazy restaurant.

Watch silly romantic movies and take silly unromantic pictures. Meditate about the meaning of your life. What is ahead? What is behind?

Fashion yourself as if you were a dream, and then dream and maybe someone will come. Someone who can dream too. If he has a white horse it'll be good. If he has a black horse it will be better still.

Don't think about the one that you let go. Don't obsess yourself with him, cos probably he has someone new now and doesn't care anymore. And anyway, you hurt him enough already. Stop being ambitious. Stop listening to his songs and stop thinking of songs to send to him and stop fantasizing about him. Anyway, he doesn't have a black horse, so it's all nonsense, isn't it?

DID YOU KNOW I MISS YOU?

Thursday. In a couple of minutes I'll leave to have tea and cake with Noelia. And afterwars my first day at my new job. Beginnings are always so strange. And most of the time we don't even know that a beginning is taking place before us. I don't even know what is happening around me, inside me. I have made too many mistakes and I am sorry if I made someone unhappy.

P. S. I dedicate this song to someone I love. I wish I was with you right now, that we could help each other and kiss.

Es por ti de Luz Casal

Escribo una y otra vez

"No puedo vivir sin tí".

Me paso los días esperándote,

cómo te puedo amar si lejos de mí estas,

si yo estoy loca es por tí.

Sé muy bien que desde donde estoy yo

no llego a donde estás tú

y aunque dentro de mi copa está reflejada tu fría luz

la beberé servil y acabada...

Es por tí,

Sin tí el amanecer en lágrimas nacerá

mojando la lluvia que caerá sin fin

y tú me atraparás con esa blanca luz.

Si yo esoy loca, es por ti.

Sé muy bien que desde este lugar

yo no llego a donde estás tú

y aunque dentro de mi copa está reflejada tu fría luz

la bebere servil y acabada...Es por tí.

THE GUY YOU WANT IN YOUR GOVERNMENT, THE GUY YOU WANT IN YOUR BED

WHERE AM I ???

Okay... these last few days have been even more surreal than usual. First things first... what the hell is happening, David? I really have no clue about what you are talking. And Isaac, what did you tell him? It's true that both of you can be ... well, too much, at times, but you are two of my closest friends. The fact that I don't spend so much time with you guys anymore has nothing to do with my being tired of you.
Next, who the hell is Zulu Slave? Where do I know you from? University? High-school? Friends? ... And what's that about flirting? I am just curious... If I were clever enough I would redesign this blog so it was compulsory to sign the comments.
It's not even 8 in the morning. I am gonna be late for class. And already I am really stressed up because of all this nonsense. By now all of you should realize I am demented, so stop trying to fix me.

AND THEN BEAUTY CROSSED MY PATH

p.s. ... Zulu Slave, fair enough that you are only you, I would have said the same thing. But do I know you? Do you have a blog or webpage I can visit?

UNIVERSITY LIFE

P. S. Zulu Slave, who are you?

STILL A LITTLE BIT OF YOUR TASTE IN MY MOUTH

Echo de menos
la cama revuelta
ese zumo de naranja
y las revistas abiertas

En el espejo
yo encuentro tu mirada
no hay besos en la ducha
ni pelos, ni nada

Entre nosotros
un muro de metacrilato
no nos deja olernos
ni manosearnos

y por las noches
todo es cambio de postura
encuentro telarañas
por las costuras

… lo mismo te echo de menos, lo
mismo,
que antes te echaba de más…

Si tú no te das cuenta de lo que vale
el mundo es una tontería
si vas dejando que se escape
lo que más querías

Echo de menos
el crujir de tus tostadas
sentir por el pasillo
tu gato que araña

En mi camisa
llevo tu aroma preso
y el rojo de tus labios
por el cuello

Entre nosotros …

HOMESICK FOR A HOME I NEVER HAD

Thursday... sunny outside but I am cold. Finished A Clockwork Orange. Think it's one of the best books I've ever read. Does that mean I am even more disturbed than I know? I want to talk in nadsat and wear only black and white and paint my eyes in some strange way... but I don't want to hurt anyone, just to explode and disappear.
I wanted to make a presentation about the book for one of my classes... But the professor said someone else was doing it. I was going to show them pictures from Kubrick's movie and bring some Beethoven as a soundtrack and even oranges to explain. I was going to talk about the attraction we feel towars violence and how there's a criminal inside all of us. It was going to be daring and interesting and original... but apparently I can't do it.
I talked to the Headmistress about my future. She says that not only I am too ambitious, but that also I won't be able to cope if I go on like this. I'll spend my whole life studying, which is alright I guess, I do love my degree. But ain't I just postponing more and more my incorporation to the real world? And what the hell is the real world? I need so many answers and I need something to keep from screaming. Everyone wants to help and yet I find no one that can. Is this reality? What is so great about it anyway?

LAST NIGHT'S THOUGHTS

This is an exercise of self-delusion, of self-conclusion, self-pollution.
I sit and wander amidst clouds.
Popcorn flowing in my eyes.
The air is airless and everyone is dressed in black.
It's the mourning carnival, but no one knows and no one says.
There are blue inquisitive lights.
Why am I here? Why do I wait?
Why does the rain kill tonight?
There is a smell and it's not so bad, but after all this is a lie.
I could just go and leave an empty place behind.
Go walk the streets, break up the fire.
Don't want to talk, just get inside.
Inside some place where wet is not and no one dies.
I have to go and close my eyes.
Not watch tonight.
Tonight not watch.
The rain is the only tragedy that I can bear and just barely, not just quite.
I want to go and learn to fly and learn to live and hide inside.
My boots are wet and they won't stand.
A small cowboy has just passed by.
He looked at me and saw me good and saw me true and then looked down.
My hair is red, my nails are red, my coat is red, the ink is red.
I could almost cry.
I have to go, away from all these feet trying to crumble me.
Have to go and have to stand.
Behind an empty seat, behind one night, the rain, the noise, the people and the fire.
I'll go inside and won't look down.

P.S Does anyone know where the faces come from?

I LOVE DEATH... CAB FOR CUTIE

"A Lack Of Color"

And when i see you
I really see you upside down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around

If you feel discouraged
That there's a lack of color here
Please don't worry lover
It's really bursting at the seams
Absorbing everything

The spectrum's a to z
This is fact not fiction
For the first time in years
And all the girls in every girlie magazine
Can't make me feel any less alone

I'm reaching for the phone
To call at 7:03 and on your machine
I slur a plea for you to come home
But i know it's too late
I should have given you a reason to stay
Given you a reason to stay [x3]

This is fact not fiction
For the first time in years



p.s. Please, when you leave a comment... sign it!!!! Most of the time I have no clue who is writing...

LET'S DO SOME LIVING

LANGUAGE IS A CHICKEN

Yesterday I was quite amused when my Semantics professor said that Language is a chicken. It can be cooked in several different ways, with several different sauces, in several different dishes, but it's always chicken.

Then, in another class, I found out she was quite right. There's always been that stupefying question, what came first? the egg or the chicken? Well, there's also such a question with language, because language change or language acquisition presuposes the pre-existence of that language. But if we go far far back, to the first people who acquired language, where did they acquire from? Was it an egg or a chicken? Moreover, this other professor also told us that because of language we are the only species that can choke on food. So, language is mortal, chicken is mortal, and you can never tell what you'll learn in any particular day.

At least now I can blame the writer's block on my being vegetarian.

REMEMBER WHEN WE USED TO PLAY

PART OF YOUR WORLD

Yesterday I got an email from Wouter with some pics... I really like this one. Although it seems that I have a gigantic head. I don't, I promise. His head was as big as mine. Photos are evil, I always said so.
I am listening to music and relaxing. Sometimes I feel almost optimistic in the mornings. It's great to meet people such as Wouter (I do hope that I am spelling it correctly), or Kyle or Sam. Be able to talk about music and do silly things.
Mad people of the world, let's unite and take over.

MEANINGLESS CONVERSATION

Hello, hello. It's Tuesday and I must inform you that I have survived. This morning I gave my first lectures at the university. They went well. Of course I made silly mistakes and my tongue kept insisting on boicotting me. Also, the students were veeeeery uncooperative. They said nothing, they knew nothing. Just one day as a professor and already I am frustrated.
However, I like it. I like the authority and the power it gives you. Specially in my last class, for the third-year students, everyone was listening and taking notes frantically.
And then, of course, something happened. The director of my department came to talk to me. She said that I could not give classes to my classmates. After all, this is my fourth year and they are in the fifth year, so it doesn't really make sense. She did allow to go on with the third years, but she wants me to report to her everything I talk with my professor, the one who's supposed to give those lectures. So, just one day, and already I am involved in department conspirations. It's crazy.
Still, I am quite content. I liked the feeling of teaching and I wasn't nervous at all. It's true that my hands did tremble, but they do it all the time now. But it was great. I wasn't afraid and I made my points quite clear... although I fear that the third-years think I am a sadist, cos I did give them a lot of material.
So, I lost two classes, was allowed to keep one, but I am satisfied with myself as a teacher. At least, and unlike the real professors, I came prepared for class, with notes and hand outs and answers. Some professors have not even come to class today. In no time, I'll be running the department. Just wait and see...

IT'S PROFESSOR OLGA FOR YOU

So... Monday. Tomorrow is Valentine's Day, depressive as usual, again alone. Actually I believe that the only Valentine that I did have someone was last year's, although of course he was in Italy and I was in England. However, it fails to stress me this year (bravo for me! I hate this nonsensical capitalistic holidays). I have other things to worry about.
The main one is that, being only 21, not yet finished with my first degree, tomorrow I begin my career as university professor. I know it's laudable and impressing. And of course I couldn't begin with the first-years, nooooo. Instead I have three classes, one of them for the third-years, the other two for the fifth-years. So, ok, I know I am enrolled in the fifth course too, although I should be in the fourth. I know I have good grades and I don't need to be ashamed of my English. I know I am a freak of nature and I do love poetry, but... how am I going to survive? I kinda believe that I won't do a worse job than the actual professor, but still... those poor students are stuck with me for their first weeks... and I am stuck with them. Crap!!
I always feel like I have nothing, no achievements, that I am not going anywhere, that there is no future for me. Then I get amazing opportunities, such as this one, and I panic. When I was a kid I figured that by the age of 21 I would be ... different. That I would know things, that I would have created something worth of praise, that I would know what I wanted in life. Does anyone ever know? How can I go into a classroom and teach about Romantic poets when I'm not sure if I have overcome my own romantic period?
Wish me luck... I'll keep you all posted on my suffering and mischief.