Sunday, July 17, 2011

All and all, I’m tired of asking questions...

All and all, I’m tired of asking questions... always, the same questions over and over again. Questions that wear out the soul... stain it.
Why do I hate myself so much? When will it end? Will I die tomorrow? What should I do next? Why can’t I do what I want to do? Why am I not happy? Where am I? Is this the right choice? Where did all go wrong? How could I have made a difference? What if I was someone else? Who am I? How did I let myself fail?
I now see failure not as a persistent fear, not as threatening menace... but as the bleak reality. 
THIS IS IT.
How do you react to failure... well most people will say, you should learn form you mistakes and start over again till you do it right. 
I don’t think I can start over again... and believe me I find myself now staring at the ceiling for hours at a time thinking how would I have lived in a better way, and how I’d give to go back and do it all over again.
Wasteful thoughts indeed.
Now I find myself writing this journal, almost convinced that this will be the only thing I’ll ever write.
This dear reader. Is a story of failing, the story people are too afraid to tell, the story people hate to hear. The story a loser, a depressive freak... my story. The story of accomplishing nothing, losing friends and alienating people.

(4 days late)


Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Now a toast... To poor decisions!

"You see, I think there comes a time when a man has to ask himself whether he wants a life of happiness or a life of meaning.[...]

Sometimes I have the odd feeling that I can choose to be someone else, sometimes I do … I feel if I tried a bit harder I could like so many things I despise…

Now a toast... 
To poor decisions!

(8 days late)

Monday, July 11, 2011

 They do not inspire me with disgust, but with an immense pity. Among all the mysteries of human life there is one which I have penetrated; our great torment in this existence comes from the fact that we are eternally alone -- all our efforts and all our actions are directed toward escaping this solitude.

On January 2, 1892, de Maupassant attempted suicide by cutting his throat.  He was committed to the celebrated private asylum of Dr. Esprit Blanche at Passy, in Paris, where he died on July 6, 1893, at the age of 43.




Tuesday, July 5, 2011

There are some perks to living in a warzone...

There are some perks to living in a warzone... first you develop the ability of sleeping through almost anything; Gunshots and minor explosions for example. You get to see the dark side of life since forever, you learn to live in a truly rotten society (you guys think your health care is broken? here is basically inexistent!). You learn the rules to live in no man’s land, to not expect anything from your government and that the answer to most (if not all) problems is definitely money.
You learn to look beyond the general moral rules of good and evil. The values system is different, it does not hurt at all that fellow citizens dies in a massacre, it doesn’t hurt that children are starving, that your maid, the woman who babysit you your whole life, prepared your meals, and washed your underwear kidnapped children of others people for ransom in her spare time.
You learn that one block away there is a center for prostitution and drugs (not to consume... but to export of course). You learn that politics are corrupt to the bone, and that the downside of that matter is not to be in it... 
You also learn to objectively look at a situation no matter the amount of casualties. You look beyond the massacre to see whose fault is it really is, not only here but anywhere else, being Iraq or Vietnam, it does not matter the time or space.
But most importantly you find that problems cannot be solved, at least not without extreme radical change (and that unfortunately means taking the rough decisions)... so where does this leaves this image that Colombian is passion? That Colombia is a better land for tomorrow... where does this leave all our goodness and expectations...
Well today the country was indeed paralyzed for an hour, where everybody just halted to show the terrorist that we had enough. Now, I'm very critical of my country's situation, but I must admit I had not experienced this ever, and god knows there have been marches, manifestations and all sorts of crap during my lifetime. Yet, today was something Huge. Why I say that? Because I was involved me... it reached me, I live on a part of the city that is pretty much excluded from what happens and it even got here... it was something... an hour where you wear a white shirt and say: "yes we can still dream of something better"


Monday, July 4, 2011

Non-sense

Non-sense, bad grammar and terrible syntax...
I feel can do more, so much more and somehow I just don’t. This feeling of constant auto sabotage is wearing me out... tearing my soul apart.
While I’ve managed to convince myself to stay alive, I find now that during a lot of time I’ve just accomplished this by getting myself stuck, sinking deeper and deeper in the mud until I’m not moving at all.
So many plans... and somehow they just never happened. And I know I shouldn’t complain... but damn, that’s pretty much all I can do for myself right now, it just seems wiser to get an overall look at my life and cry, than just keep on living numb to the situation. Now self-pity won’t solve any problem, I know that... what I don’t know is exactly what the problem is...
This guy offered me the chance to be in one of his clips, I kind of avoided him all week... firstly because I’ve felt really monstrous and I wasn’t  in mood of being in front of a camera, but besides that there was my recurrent fear that will somehow let down people once they know me.
I manage to spend my time imagining, day dreaming nonsense, obsessing over meaningless maters...
I've deleted so many people from my contact list... somehow I stopped emailing with all the people I was emailing with.
I am broke, and with that all that comes with it. Secondly I’m unemployed yet I’m working my ass of doing favors for absolutely nothing in return.
I’m worried my mail is not reaching me, but living in Colombia it shouldn’t be a surprise...
Gruesome news lately 11 deputies murdered by the FARC... they were probably corrupt to the bone, but still. 
Days are passing so quickly and I’m doing anything... 

(29 days late)