I believe in balance. In inevitability. I almost believe, barely knowing about it and without having met it, in ying and yang. I almost believe that Jesus was merely human, and that fills me with hope. I love my beautiful one as love is without conditions, as love is with courage and kindness. I suffer, because love is like that and life is as such, always in balance. But, hey: the balance I'm talking about is rarely in my mind when I make decisions...
I ought to confess: I didn't remember that February 21st was my blog's second anniversary (the one in Spanish). My God-blessed blog. So bad the matter is that I didn't even realize that all the information within the lists within my Spanish blog has suddenly disappeared.
This is my reality: I order to love as I should, as my own beliefs say I must do it, I shall do certain things and stop doing some others. The interesting part is that everything is now my decision and in the end what I choose is for me and only for me. The place in my awareness destined to cast blame upon others because of my own decisions has ceased to exist. To delegate guilt is as much as avoiding responsibility. As my college coordinator used to say: "ever since excuses were invented, stupid assholes did not exist anymore". The truth is that, to me, I ran out of stupid assholes because I've already pulled us all up in category. We're simply human. We're mudane beings that, in our search for balance, can get to doing the most insufferable blunders just as we can as well do the most transcendental actions.
I'm trying to explain why I didn't even remember until four days ago that it was my blog's birthday. The truth is that I won't be able to explain why everything is in fact a series of factor that mishmash into this result. I'll make a list:
I start my work from seven in the morning and I get through up until ten at night. I am now working as the In-company program Coordinator of the Academic Area within the Centro de Idiomas. I don't listen to music anymore. I don't watch TV. I'm happy. My boss always says I look sad. She says my eyes depict sadness. My fianceé says they look at peace. I say that I'm a little tired. Incredible as it may seem, I've already quit music. I have no time to think as much in my blog. The truth is that I am somewhat sad because of what I've just left behind, in my own search for happiness. (But it is because of the blessed balance: When I'm happy, I'm veeeery happy.) I work even on Sundays. I have no time even for myself. Sometimes I don't know how to grant quality time to the things I do. Sometimes I don't know anything. I'm always inspired, but I'm always doing something else. I get very few visits to my blog. It might be because I don't have any more time to dedicate to my own visits to my cyber-friends. That saddens me too. I'm getting thinner, but my small belly keeps being there (Is that due to balance as well?) I'm 33 already. I know that even though I'm already tired of so much work, my task load is barely starting to build up. I don't go out anymore on weekends. I'm keeping all my money in order to... I bet you don't know what for! I don't see any more fights, muddlings and disentanglings as when I used to play in clubs. My goals are more palpable, more real. Now, the muddlings and fights are only withing myself. If I were just knowing me, that would make me terribly irresistible. I'd love to meet myself and untwin me. To write my own story. But it would have to be a whole surreal, psychedelic ostentasious, seventies type of novel. I've got no more insomnia. Only anxiety on Saturdays like at 10 at night. I'm saving. I can't live without showering in the mornings. I'd never before struggled when waking up, not even when I only had two or less than two hourse to sleep. I may be getting old. But I'll erase that later. My stupid mind won't stop thinking about things it shouldn't. Sometimes I believe, in fact, that it is my heart the one that influences mi mind and won't let it think what it should. I say this because, when I'm really aiming at something based on concentration, I can really think of things that I must definitely have in mind all the time. I love. My path is drawn. And the truth is that all of these thirty-three years I've been fighting for not having a drawn path. Maybe that's why my boss sees sadness in my eyes. Maybe that's why I'm so tired even without having walked that much. Maybe I haven't gotten used to the fact that my car has turned into a train. I'm a locomotive. A coal one. I'm still burning inside, but my energy is channeled and held within by nothing but iron. My inner fire keeps burning, but now it is under control. And I smile. At last. Because the tracks set before me are guiding me to the place where I always wanted to arrive in my desire to fly as a space shuttle in order to contemplate the fields that surrounded me: home...
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