One Month Down, A Few More to Go

January didn't creep by this once, like every year before. January came, stabbed us in the back and left before our bodies hit the floor.

How dramatic, right? But January has been backdrop to significant changes [in my life, which is what this blog is about anyways, so any glimmer of self-importance is totally justified].

I am a fast believer of the theory that talking about things too much puts a jinx on it. So it should be just enough to say that last Friday was a catalytic day. I gave up the opportunity to have what most people struggle to get on a daily basis, just in order to give myself the chance of completion, of emotional and intellectual fulfillment. Given the immediate choice (incredibly enough, both options were standing face to face in the same instant), I froze, and may Eze forgive me for calling on him to help me feel reassured on my decision, but I did need someone to tell me it was okay to show myself some love too.

I will put it out in the open, as soon as I get the desirable feedback, the one thing that could go wrong (and hopefully won't).

Other than that one thing that redefines 2008 for me, I'm also getting ready for my birthday. March 8th, 2008 I will be turning 30 years old, and I'm happy about it. What could otherwise be a trauma has turned into a celebration of what I didn't become, a personal statement of independence (of sorts, Eze yesterday rained on my parade a little, thank you >-( ... )

I'm just looking forward to turning to a-round-little-number-of-age again. It will be a Saturday, and I still have no clue how to celebrate it. Suggestions are welcome.

Since the start of the month, work rhythm has almost halted to a complete stop. From working through New Year's Day straight into the following weekend, days like to day are starting to crop up again, in which I have barely any duties for me. Ahhhh, the beauty of tranquil days, it makes up for the frenzy of others.


Our 4-months-old pup, Caprica, hasn't halted to a full stop, though. She's kept growing, although not as fast as before. We enrolled her in an obedience class, which is fine and dandy, but the past 2 lessons have been canceled due to rain. We keep trying to follow up, but she's only focused when she wants to be, which is barely ever. She's energetic and incredibly sweet, but also a total rascal. I've lost my good share of underwear and shoes to her already. I trust that time will do its work, and she will eventually turn into a tranquil and affectionate dog as age goes by.

Happy New Year!

Differently from recent past years, I've had to work a full day today (12/31) and I will have to work tomorrow as well. It hasn't been a pleasant thing to agree to, but as these days came closer (as late as at the end of last week), I've tried to give it a twist for the better, at least as far as my mood goes.

So as it is, the passing of one year into the other will not be much more special than the passing of one day to the next. But all is well, I have a few heartening plans for 2008, and that gives me something to look forward to.

In 2008 I will be turning 30 (March 8th), my relationship with Eze will be turning 4, my sister Chichi will be turning 21, my brother Kiwi will be 26 (over the 20s peak, huh!).

In 2008 I intend to turn a new leaf in my life (more on that as it develops), and I'd like to also start turning my home into truly mine (my nesting instinct manifests through color, just as Eze's manifests through space management).

In 2008 I hope to be able to travel (there is at least one concrete plan in the horizon), and most of all, I will keep working on my own psyche, so I can finally realize how free I really am. I need to know that, my sanity depends on it.

I hope 2008 brings more blue and sunny afternoons, more sunsets at home, more breezy feelings.

I have no resolutions for 2008 ... it's more like I have resolutions for the rest of my life.

So, as I'm writing this, my pup Caprica is sitting on my lap, being all restless, trying to input some of HER stuff through the track pad. I think I'll just log off now and bid you guys a happy new year celebration.
Thanks for reading! :D

El Perfume

No sé cómo es que uno se olvida de los olores con el tiempo y sin embargo eventualmente el elemento más aleatorio lo resucita como si estuviese pasando de nuevo. Hace muchos años, cuando todavía mi papá era completamente infeliz y tenía dinero, él usaba perfumes como si fueran calzoncillos: no sólo los cambiaba con frecuencia, sino que los usaba el día entero, y al final ya apestaba.

Aparentemente, la fricción continua del shampoo de miel de abeja (fricción absolutamente necesaria, porque bañar a una cachorrita de 3 meses de edad y 15 libras de peso no es tarea fácil si ella así se lo propone), al cabo de un rato termina oliendo a Drakkar Noir ... o alguna otra de esas pestilencias que usaba mi papá. También es increíble cómo uno le puede tomar cariño a un olor que en cualquier otro caso terminaría provocando una migraña.

Al oler eso, la memoria viajó a una parte que hacía tiempo no visitaba. Era una época problemática, de consternación y confusión. Todos esos años en los que mi papá no fue feliz y en los que no sintió la necesidad de ocultarlo sirvieron para conocer un lado de él que prefiero no repetir. Era algo gris, opaco, oculto, oscuro. Los regaños provocaban más terror del que pueda tenerle uno a mi papá en estos días, y los momentos felices frecuentemente tenían la sensación de un chocolate hueco.

Mis hermanos y yo creo que nos acostumbramos a ese tormento interno de nuestro papá, creo que por eso nos rebelamos tan asquerosamente cuando al fin conoció a alguien que lo hizo sonreír desde adentro nuevamente. En ese momento, mi papá dejó de usar perfumes. Creo que finalmente ya no le hacía falta la máscara.

Realization

Realization sometimes dawns in multiple steps and phases. Most of times the first phase is already 'too late'. For example, realizing two weeks before graduating with a BA in Commerce/Computer Systems is 'a bit too late' ... or so you think, until you start committing to a house, a car, a way of life that only a professional career will pay for. THEN it's too late, for real.

A few false starts later, feeble attempts to bleed my anxieties, looking for ways to feel less like part of the corporate flock ... it proves that yes, you were late in realizing, and the longer you wait, the more difficult it will be to effectively remove yourself from the huge March of the Android Sheep. All the what if's have piled up in your brain to form a burning scar that throbs each time you fail at excelling at something you don't even care about.

So, it's about time I did something. It might not be the easiest way "out", but it will be a relief not to stay put just because it feels like a societal mandate to keep the one career you chose when you were merely 18 and thinking with your twat.

Writing has been in my blood since birth, I suppose. Nothing else explains that as soon as I learned to put my ABCs on paper, I immediately proceeded to compose poetry and draw accompanying illustrations. Nothing else explains that I've been keeping journals since my hormones started creating havoc on my psyche. Nothing else explains that the only activity that feels like second-nature to me is putting words to the music my soul sings. I may not be an excellent writer, and to some (I know), I lack whatever talent would deem me brilliant to their eyes. Little do they know that it's not so much about wooing them into helpless admiration, it's much much more about relieving myself, doing what my innermost being craves time and again. I cannot help it: I write, therefore I am. Can't be one without the other.

So for the first time in my life I'm seriously contemplating following what my instinct has been since I've been a wee child. I won't give more details than that, I tend to be superstitious "just in case", so I don't tell so as not to jinx it. But it will take time. In the end, I hope I have something to show for it. For the while being, I don't plan to stop writing here, it's all that's keeping me sane, away from high ledges and nefarious pills. In the way there, you might figure out what it is. As always, my problems and my blisses bleed into my words.

Want!

These past few days have been a bit of a Self Crisis. If I were turning 45 in the next March 8th, I'd say I was having a bit of a mid-life crisis. What I refuse to admit, though, is that I'm having a Turning 30 Crisis, 'cuz that is just plain stupid, and I will have none of that in this house (my body is a temple!).

I've been feeling the strongest of urges: to go out drinking, to get a tattoo, to cut my hair, to dye it blue-black (again), to get my nails done, to do a total overhaul of what "Diana" has come to mean in the past few years. I had never felt so strongly about these things, and I'm a bit scared of going near any shopping mall, in fear that I might get drawn into it and shop myself a new self-image, leaving my credit card maxed out and my economy whimpering on a thin line.


Unfortunately, Ebay exists, and I've already succumbed to the purchase of 2 pairs of spiral taper plugs (earrings, for those not familiar with bod-mod lingo): one pair black, the other red. And I'm on the lookout for Hermes sandals, which are not that easy to find (good quality, i mean. The rip-offs abound and will give you a blister you will not soon forget). What else lies in store for this phase of compulsive buying and tendency to make myself over? I dunno. I bought a henna conditioner treatment yesterday, but that is just a lame pacifier for the forces that usually cause my transformations. It's like stopping a hurricane with a butterfly net.

*sigh* The itch for ink has just begun. Whip out your tattoo guns, boys. It's just a matter of time before I enter a door asking for mayhem on my skin.

In Pain

I'm feeling like shit (emotionally), my back hurts (for real) and the day didn't get off to a good start since yesterday.

Thankfully, I decided to take my car for repair work on the A/C later in the month, 'cuz my plans would have been shot to hell anyways. Both options I had for a lift (Mom & Eze) had to leave their cars (Eze's car won't turn on, and Mom noticed her car making a weird noise).

The day looks bleak, gray .... just like the future. Bleak. Gray.
I need a shot of adrenaline, maybe some alcohol, maybe a good talk. I dunno. Or maybe I just need to shut up and go back into myself like I've been expected to, like I've tried doing all this time.

I loooooove my perfume

Wish you had smell-a-vision. Then you'd be able to smell this...

I know, it's classified as "WTF" if it's coming from me, tooting Puff Daddy's horn for designing such a delicious fragrance (or tooting P. Diddy's horn at all). It was unintentional and the associations to the perfume made the purchase so much easier (and impulsive).














A few months ago I started reading the Sandman comic series by Neil Gaiman, and about time, given the whole lot I had heard before about the comic. I loved it, and I immediately connected with Delirium.

Thing is, one day I'm walking around a mall, and I picked up a small paper card sprayed with this perfume that I pretty much liked. I stowed the paper away, and took it home, used it as a bookmark for Brief Lives. The perfume permeated the whole book, accompanied me in the Delirium-ridden story, got into my nostrils and my senses until the smell of it was forever associated with Dream and Delirium.

This past weekend, Mom insisted on taking me shopping, and I budged. There were more than a few things I was wanting/needing. I decided to go snooping around Macy's perfume department, and I really don't understand how I recalled the name of the perfume so clearly. What I didn't remember so well was why I was remembering a perfume named Unforgiven.

As soon as I whiffed at it again, the decision was made, I had to have it. This perfume IS Delirium, this perfume IS Dream. It wasn't until I was drawing out the credit card to pay for it that I noticed what the signature on the back stood for.

Puff-fucking-Daddy, aka Sean John. Jeez!

But then again, he's got a better nose for fragrances BY FAR than all the little Hollywood bitches designing stenches for the gullible masses.

Playlists - Intro and Part 1 of 9: A Cry From the Inside

Since the era of the mix-tape I’ve always been fascinated by playlists. I love making them, and I believe some insight can be gained to the way a person’s mind works by looking at his or her playlists. Since the invention of social websites and rings, I’ve encountered a few invitations to make up “The Soundtrack of Your Life” by determining which song fits this or that special event in your life. Later on, the web itself has spawned more than a few music-profile websites (see: Last.FM, Pandora Radio, eMusic) in which you make your own playlists by listening to the music you love, and in the process discover new things to like.

My listening habits have obviously changed from the time I taped songs off the radio (in an attempt to save a few bucks, ‘cuz it’s not easy for a 12-year-old to come by $15 to buy a cassette just for the one song she likes). In the process, my playlists have become more varied, motley if you will, and yet, I always come back to the basics, to the songs that were the soundtrack to my puberty, to my childhood even.

I want to share the playlists that have recently taken residence in my iPod (yeah, that creaking antiquity of an iPod Photo which no one has anymore). You might find some things as embarrassingly commonplace as a Thalía hit (because, come on, admit it! There was at least one time in your life in which you danced to Menudo in diaper-clad bliss. Or perhaps there was at least one marquesina party in which you enjoyed Richard Marx more than you’d care to admit….). Likewise there are things so obscure that they never left the household (like the enjoyable song blueprints my brother used to cook up with Fruity Loops).

My intention, however, is not to bedazzle anyone with my hipness or my musical knowledge. I know I possess neither of those things. But I do have an immense desire to finally share some of my feelings about the music I love without limiting myself to rigid formats, without having to wait for the inspiration to review the latest album by Björk (which I loved, by the way, but I rarely ever know how to express my reactions logically enough to call it a review).

So, without further ado, I introduce my Playlist series, in which I shall post almost every day one of my 9 playlists, including a heartfelt description and explanation of why I decided to put all that music together under one (very unapt) title.


A Cry From the Inside

This was actually one of the most whimsical playlists to make. It includes songs and pieces which to my ears sound as if they were truly heartfelt. It could be the quiver of a violin line, or the sound of a broken heart through a skillful voice, what places these pieces together is that they earnestly pluck the heartstrings.

Unfairly enough, this is the only playlist to feature Antony and the Johnsons. Such a beautiful voice should be given more chances to be heard. However, as with other artists and albums, I haven’t fully gotten to the groove of Mr. Johnson just yet.


"Why won't you listen to me more, you bitch!?"

Artists prominently featured in this playlist are:


Deftones – Chino Moreno’s voice, though not exactly artful in the classical sense, has always managed to give me the shivers. So it has come to be that the music by his band is not only one of my favorites, but it also brings not-so-distant memories flooding back, feelings of misplaced hopefulness included.



Superaquello – This band, contrary to Antony, is repeated over and over throughout most playlists. It’s my favorite local band, and with good reason too. Eduardo and Patricia (the lead singers) can swing your mood around into “Play Time”, just as well as they can reach into your throat to squeeze those tears out. If you add to that mix the incredible talent of their fellow bandmates (Francis, Jorge and Pablo), you get an all around Cry-and-Dance Machine.


The Cranberries – My high school sweetheart introduced me to this band back in 1994. The Cranberries made up a huge chunk of the soundtrack to those memorable years. The transition into college included a compulsive obsession to look like Dolores O’Riordan, and songs like “Empty” and “Disappointed” accompanied resentful tears when I started a custom of fighting with Dad. Even later on, the album Bury the Hatchet was the background music to one of the most scarring moments in my life. Dolores’s voice is a fixed feature in my life.

Other artists worth mentioning in this playlist are Damien Rice, whose heartbreak anthem, “Cheers Darlin”, I adopted off the one that now sleeps by my side; Marianne Faithfull, with the crooner “Who Will Take My Dreams Away”, which was shared between two excellent movies I loved: The City of Lost Children and La Fille Sur Le Pont; Múm, which you will notice is a recurrent artist among my playlists; and likewise, Tori Amos.




Download A Cry From the Inside.doc

This was supposed to be different

I had this entry written out in my mind some 15 minutes ago, but now it's gone. I was in the passenger's seat of Eze's car fifteen minutes ago. I think I need a small electronic tablet, something to record my thoughts as they happen. If I let it go, I m ight never get it back again. Fickle fickle fickle inspiration.

It was all about how Eze and i see and do things differently in life. He's usually the keen observer, while I remember things more like a collage, or "like a trailer of glimpses and brief moments, spliced with images burned onto the wooden cortex of my mind." (see? that bit I did remeber! yay!) There was much more to say though,but it all seems moot point now. Another article/essay that never came to be. Bad too, because it's been a long while since I've written regularly.

It's the job, really. I like working for the company I work for, but the irregular hours and the stres over the learning process leave me with very little energy to sit down to write in the evenings. If you add the spent energy necessary to keep a clean house with a new puppy (with full run of the house during the daytime), you'll understand why I've been mostly absent from my writing hobby. Not so with my beading hobby, but that is only due to yesterday evening, which I spent at a friend's house. There was a beading demo from a representative for a company that sells Swarovski jewelry. I didn't buy anything (the kits were a bit on the pricey side for my standards) but I put together a couple of pieces, which inspired me to make a piece of my own today.


Caprica did something this morning that totally blew my mind, I've never seen a dog doing anything like it. She started pawing the water out of her bowl onto the floor, and after she had made a small pool of water at the kitchen's entrance, she started running around the dining table and back to the puddle... and as she got to the wet area she'd let herself slide. She apprently likes the waterworks more than she's let on before :D Totally nuts!

Little Notes #7: This must be my day!

#1, Found this on eBay, and although I'm not gonna bid on it (what for, really?), it was yet another nostalgia trip to renew my memory of this tin lunchbox.


Specially of the matching thermos, which never sealed completely and would always let some of the juice out onto my napkins, utensils, other thermos or even worse, onto my sandwich.



#2, I just learned that Guillermo del Toro is producing a film adaptation of one of my favorite comics: Death: The High Cost of Living, and he wants creator Neil Gaiman to direct! Awesome move! And I'm SO looking forward to it, it's scary. They could also fuck it up so many ways :-(












All hail the Endless!