Never to be realised proyects, Part II.

1. Pamper yourself with a new dress or a new hairstyle. (This is always one of Magellan's tips for women with post-partum depression.)
I want to go wedding-dress-shopping. I am not engaged nor do I plan to marry anyone ever, and even if I did I would not do the whole meringue dress spend obscene amounts of money ballroom reception chicken stuffed with ham in yukky creamy sauce dinner party. I don't think I'd even bother with church either. But I would really like to try on some nice wedding dresses, and make up lies to the saleslady about my wonderful fiancé and the beautiful house we just bought and all the children we plan to have, and just for a moment look at myself in the mirror and feel that I fit in, that I can be just as perfect as anybody else, that I could live that life if I wanted to.
2. Make a plan.
I've always had the weird fantasy of living on the second story above a wedding dress shop. I think it would make me feel quite above and on top of that stupid dream everyone usually has. Stick your routine above of a cheesy dream and maybe you'll even have a magical life. My favorite wedding dress shop used to be "Novias Adelita" on 15 de mayo a block west from Pino Suárez. It had this really "glamourous" signpost from the fifties which presumably used to light up, and hideous mannequin women wore the most meringy dresses ever created. It must have gone out of business 20 years ago and 5 years ago the dresses were still displayed, all dusty and tattered. Today the place stands un-rented and cleared out, including the nostalgic signpost. But it was just the place I would have loved to live on top of.
3. Try a new excercise routine.
I would like to go backpacking around Mexico by myself. I would start out in Chihuahua, take the train to the Pacific, the only passengers train left in the country. Then follow the coast line down south as far as I can get, and then sort of spiral to the center, and then go back home. Or I could do it the other way around, starting in the middle, spiralling outward, and end up somewhere near Tijuana, stride up to California, and then swing back to Austin and then home. Or, I could simply never come back home again. This isn't really my home so who cares.

Never to be realised proyects, Part I.

1. Make a list. (this was always the first step in Magellan's advice in overcoming any distressing life event.)
I want to make a list of things so I can throw them away. For instance, that stupid collection of rose petals I have stashed away somewhere. I could make a list of all the people who gave me a rose and then throw the collection away. And I could add the list of all the films I went to see, including the name of the cinema, the date and hour, and, if I can remember, the person I went with. And then I can just grab the whole box of cinema tickets that's been lying around me somewhere ever since I was nine, and burn it, or eat it, or whatever I feel like. Then if I ever get nostalgic about going to the cinema with somebody, I can simply double-click on that excel file and read the list. They say it's healthy to clear out unused items and make your habitat feel neat and tidy and as empty as posible.
2. Get rid of the list.
Then, after a few years of never double-clicking on the excel file I will realise I didn't need any of that rubbish anyway, so I'll just move it to the trash located on the bottom-right corner of my desktop.

Mommy, will you take me on a road trip?

I cannot accept I'm human and have to sleep and eat and do the dishes and talk to other people and do the same things over and over again. That is why she keeps telling me I'm nothing more than a player, and that there's nothing wrong in that once I acknowledge it and start warning people before they get the chance to get close to me. But I'm not, really I'm not, I would love nothing more than to finally find my significant other and live happily together for the rest of our lives. It's just that I hate sharing my toothpaste, my half of the bed, my obsessive daily rituals. And not because they are sacred, but on the contrary, because I hate routine, and sharing it just makes it all the more real. Love should be magic, not another chore. Not company while I do my chores, but childish magic, yearning, head-cracking brain-muddling mystery. Or so I used to think, I don't know what I think anymore.

Daddy, will you buy me a little brother? I would ask, because the back seat was always so spacious and lonely. William was okay for a boy-doll, but I lost hope in the world when it fell from my arms and broke and my dad promised he would mend it and then left it rot away in the garage for months before we moved out and they threw all the useless old junk away.

(Picture by Jaime Martinez. (c) April 2006.)

Me encontré un gatito

en la calle. Venía del seven eleven con Mou y lo vi surgir desde abajo de un automóvil. Se parecía a Munra pero estaba muy flaco y pequeño. Pensé que no se iba a dejar agarrar pero Mou lo agarró y me lo dio. Estaba todo sucio y pulgoso pero no me importó, él tampoco opuso resistencia alguna. Lo llevé a mi casa, le di de comer, le dí muchos mimos, lo bañé y le puse talco antipulgas. Es el gato más dejado del mundo.

Se parece a Munra quien a su vez se parecía a Hey quien también murió bajo mi tutela. Es un mal augurio tal vez pero mi egoísmo me supera.

I think one day I'll even have a child out of sheer loneliness.

Das la vuelta a la glorieta, topas con pared y das vuelta a la derecha, y de ahí todo derecho son como diez minutos

Juro que ya había escrito este post. Me asombra no encontrarlo en ningún lado. Tal vez olvidé picarle a "publish post" como una vegestoria que no sabe usar una computadora. Tal vez alguien quiere probarme que se sabe mi password y está dispuesto a sabotear mi blog. Tal vez sólo escribí el título y el resto lo imaginé. El título sí sé que lo escribí porque Firefox me lo autollenó.

Trataba de la sensación de manejar en el DF. De lo chido que fue haber logrado aprenderme las calles y las direcciones y saber más o menos cómo se hace. De lo bonito que fue estar con Mou y Charli tantos días y de esas fotos que nos tomamos al atardecer. De mis expectativas comparadas con los resultados. Un post algo cursi. Tal vez sí fue mejor que se perdiera.