It is told in the Popol-Vuh that mankind went through three creations process in order to achieve the type of humans we are today, for the Gods always found a defect in former materials before using corn, we are “men of corn”, the most sacred grain in native American cultures and consumed today on a daily basis by nearly one-third of world’s population. And even though those Gods formed our species from the same materials they gave us the breath of life, a soul, the touch of heavens. As a consequence, despite biological common factor, I’m not my neighbor.
According with numbers, I have 15x chances of committing suicide, I’m prone to addictions in a higher level that 95% of people and, as a woman, post-partum depression is mostly a certainty awaiting it’s time to come. However, not suicide has been committed, drugs as appealing and often the quick fix they are, never were my cup of tea and if the latter fact happens my individuality will remain the same. However, every time I write two words on a piece of papers I become a dot in a chart for people trying to understand the world, and its people, as “normal” versus “special”, that dreadful code for different. But these two words are my piece of divinity, my gift given by a powerful entity who created you and me. Would you reject and neglect a portion of the universe just because it makes you a separate person from the one sitting next to you? After loving God, love thy neighbor is commanded, furthermore, you must love that person with the same love you have for yourself. Can you love otherness?
I’m not good with magazine information about study cases, I’m good with people and their joys just as much as sorrows for you see I’m 1-4 humans for my two words and so is the human being waiting in line to pay a bill, standing inches away from my arm while using the tube and that student praying to get a decent grade. My days are an exercise of love and charity towards whoever comes to my way, most of those days I fail, but a few are glorious facts aside.
Luck is defined by the Oxford Dictionary as (n) good or bad things that happen by chance or good fortune, and lucky as having, bringing, or resulting from good luck.
My words make me the luckiest girl in the universe.
Too often my ideas can’t find a spoke person, I’m rather terrible at advocating myself because I don’t know how to make people outside my circle understand or respect me, so I’m a horrible cynic, despicable woman most the time and for most of the people since I never go out. But I have friends, and I presume they must have at least some sort of sympathy for me or I would have been thrown out of a window a long time ago. Therefore, I must be or I am a person who doesn’t go well around her peers. What’s that? Is it a disease? Defect? No, it’s called “to be an introvert”. Simply put: leave me alone, I’m trying to exist.
I chose a profession where books, writing and loneliness are key rules to achieve success – History B. A- and collaboration if a seldom practice viewed as intrusive and tacky, a researcher has to develop his own projects as fantasies and write accordingly, it’s rare to find teams doing historical research jobs, and when it happens murder is expected. At teaching, the person stands up alone in front of a class and delivers information just known to that person like talking to a mirror with a thousand eyes.
Solitude is my temple.
Here’s a woman who managed to live the life of the deadly needed social relationships to be competitive as a lawyer but then she realized that it kills her. Let me introduce you to an amazing talk, when one person spokes for millions hidden in plain view.
Today I bought a book by Murakami and it’s feels like I can deal with all my problems just fine, I can look forward for words that sounds like music, sentiments wordless until I read them and the possibilities -endless- of one’s mind, for you see I like to read. My air is full of symbols and I love to be decoded from time to time. Being alive right now, 29 years old and counting, has brought many things into my plate for the feast of destiny and I keep wondering what’s next and then I stop because I can’t connect next with rational wordy thinking.
Being alive right now, at 29 years old and counting, has brought many things into my plate for the feast of destiny and I keep wondering what’s future anyway, does it comes labeled? Both with fear and -until this afternoon- a sense of… my persona embarked from Chacaito to Ciudad Universitaria but still I could not name it yet, but as I took the sub back home at 5 p.m with all kinds of people busy with kids, friends, robbers and schedules to sort my brain found a peculiar word: perplex. It wasn’t fear either calmness, I just wondered why a twisted life it was and began to feel that, perplex.
As I look it up with a dictionary a reality check hit me, the word per se means differently from what I had experienced but then I realized that this: you can create a thesaurus as you talk, think and speak. Meanings are mere suggestions like a pact between you and certain people, however, your brain brings emotions with no real significances for them, just you.
It might have been related with a psychological answer and that’s fine with me. I own my right to collect concepts as freely as those who created meanings. Let’s make an agreement: don’t fight back with you logic and I would not attack you with my dramas.