All is so easy

Sometimes I get so desperate from being so busy. Physically, mentally and emotionally. My job, my fianceé, my no-moneyness, facebook, my classes, the material, the powerpoint slide shows, the final exams, the students, the principals, my bosses, the commitments, my debts, the grades, the extraordinary exams, the championship that's coming, my car, her dog, my mum, my siblings, my friends, Santos, the amount of minutes in my mobile, my clothes, my room, the not-working washing-machine, the people around us, our wedding, the photo shoot, the reception, the feast, the money, the guests, the godfathers, the ring, the proposing evening, the bridal shower and the bachelor party, the presents, my neglected live spaces, my equally neglected blogspot sites, my net friends, los tres coyotes, the freaking suicidal stupid man, the waiting, the nerve, my always showing a good face, the uninvited suddenly appeared, the invitations, the flower arrangements, the video shoot, the Summer vacations that come without a single dime, my eternal search, my pawned bass guitar, the cousins, the uncles, the aunts, the family, my unableness to ask for things -whatever to whomever-, my constant need to always eat in solitude, the concerts I'm not going to, my college buddies, the trips, students who love me, students who hate me, my Michigan diploma with honors, my recognition as the best teacher in front of the dean and all, the wine, the canapé servings, the waiters, the bar-tender, the TV, the fridge, the air conditioning system, the biweekly coffee that turns out to be into dinner for five at applebee's, our munchies, my empty wallet, the sacrificed music with a goosebumpy smirk, the loss that it involves, the death rasping breathing that it promotes, my stress-caused belly growth, my smile, the writing, the reports, the parents of my students that come to visit just to get to meet the teacher of their creatures, the monthly parties made to celebrate all the birtday people, my bad thoughts, my good thoughts, my intransigence of heart that keeps on not listening to my good sense which takes millenia to be aware of my emotinal state, the politics, the flattering, my car wrapped with the local team's flags, my library fines, the books, my computer, the quaranteened applications, the Trojan horses, my nephews, Nicholas, the repairs on our new house, the real estate agents that won't stop getting me through hell just to sell, the payroll receipts, my original birth certificate which says I'm a woman due to a typing mystake, the fucking heat that whips my city, the fence that shall be erected, the window protections, the house widening, the date in which it'll be given to us, the paper signing, the delays, the down payments, the honeymoon, the vacations, the days that we won't we working, the thoughts that just won't stop bothering, her depilation, the make up, my hair that just won't allow any control, the motor oil leak, the translations, the invitations I get to play with other bands, the curtains, the furniture, the trousseau, the dinner, the packages, the bride-shows, the prices, the discounts, my dirty little mind corners, my paranoia, my expectations, my eagerness, my need to get rid of everything and just go on with chaos, my urgency to have order, my family, the balance, the computer payments, internet, the events, the lawn, the lizards, the bridges being built throughout the city which take five minutes each from each of my commutes, her hands, her eyes, the feeling of drunkedness that they cause on me, the lack of concentration, the bouquet, the wedding band, the church, the garter, the lab tests, the civil wedding, the bride magazines, the time that's left and barely lets us make it, her PMSings, our Tuesday's movies, the endless leaflets, tryptichs and bulletins that are now like my car's inside tapestry, the disorganization, her waist, the countless assholes that keep hitting on her knowingly of the fact that she's soon getting married, those mother-fuckers, my laughter, mi vice, her posture, the salads we both make, our ignoring the past, the vampires, my castle on knighthood, my vasals, my songs, my need to sing and yell, the talks, the judgements and prejudices, the emotional charge, the music-knowledge tests, the fact that I winded out being Han Solo on my Star Wars personality test, the value of being, her lips, my restlessness, her father who won't even talk to me, my father whom I won't even turn to look at, our powerless mothers, my unquenchedness, my lack of inspiration, my ego, my libido that demands, my extremities that search and only in her they find my truth, my fate, my punishment, my struggle, my heaven, my grace and my peace...

Spanish version