Still here…

On Toronto

One thing that I really, really like about Toronto is the cultural mix. You get on a bus and you listen to several languages and accents. People are also dressed according to their culture so it doesn’t really matter how you’re dressed, how you speak, how you behave. Sometimes, of course, it’s a little hard to accept people sharing their cigarette’s smoke with you, people sneezing on your face, people competing for a place on the train. But, c’mon, let’s not be picky. Toronto has a lot to offer, as does the world with its cultural diversity.

Weather sucks, to be honest. It’s been raining everyday and we never know if it’s hot or cold; besides, air conditioners could be turned off most of the times. Environment friendly, you see. (Hmm, and by “you” I mean any of the 2,001 visitors of this blog. Including myself.)

Packing

So I’m headed to Toronto for some deserved vacation.

What is the fiction of your life?

Let’s write a story about yourself.

What’s its introduction? Where does your story take place?

How can you, as a character, be revealed? How does one get to know you? By your physical appearance? By what you say, think, feel, dream, do and don’t do? Or by what others say about you? Describe it.

What kind of conflicts have you faced/are you facing? A struggle against external forces, or against your own self? A struggle against another person, against circumstances, ideas, or against your choices, against your feelings or limitations? Elaborate.

How will the turning point be? Will the conflict be resolved or not? What do you think? Do you want it to be resolved?

How do you expect the untangling of the events to be?

Self-help may sometimes help

An aunt of mine told me that, when she feels someone is willing to cause her damage, she imagines a glass cage around her: all the evil will hit the cage and go back to the person who sent it. Is it true? Well, maybe not, or maybe yes, for those who believe in the propagation of all kinds of energy; what is true is that it makes her feel stronger and better. Good for her, and I myself wouldn´t mind trying, too. Trying to imagine the cage, not sending her evil thoughts to see if they would come back to me.

Such things don´t need the evidence of science… if it works for you, who cares what the evidences are?

The right decision

“I wanna be certain, I don’t wanna regret,” he says.

We just gather enough information so as to make the best decision. How can one ever be certain?

Anne’s incompleteness

Anne is 14. Suicidal. Tried once, is instructed by an inner voice to kill herself. She’s not psychotic: she recognizes the voice as being hers. In addition, she demonstrates some paranoia, which she’s also aware is a kind of paranoia, therefore not quite normal, but she says she can’t help feeling everyone’s looking and pointing out at her. She has then created a world of her own, where she’s a beautiful princess with a lot of friends. A world where everything is perfect.

Anne has a 16-year-old sister, Jeanette. When her mother talks about the girls’ childhood, she mixes the two girls up. When talking specifically of Anne, she describes her as being colder, more intelligent and rational. Jeannette is sentimental; according to the mother, she’s not bright but has better social skills. It even seems she had just one daughter, split into the lives of Anne and Jeannette. No trouble is expected from Anne. “You see, she’s depressed and isolated, but at least she’s not getting pregnant as a single mother nor using drugs. Jeannette doesn’t leave me as cool as that.”

Jeannette is the pleasure, Anne is the work.

Anne couldn’t stand her boring life anymore: either she becomes (just like) her sister, or she puts an end to herself, what she already tried to do when her fantasies of an ideal world blew out and no longer made her feel okay.

Some words from Ginger

“It’s very painful to realize that your life has never belonged to yourself and that you were loved only as a promise of what you could become. It’s hard to recover faith in humanity when that happens. All your dreams, all your beliefs, they were never yours. You thought you were not alone, but you were. As alone as you are, now. In the past, you only had the illusion of companionship. When someone’s world ruins like that, it’s very hard to go on. It’s very hard to find strength and references. You look for references and can’t find them. They’re not where they used to be. I search, reach out, but they’re not there. I sometimes dream they’ll be there again, but they won’t. I have to find new references.”

It may still take some time, but she’s been having some useful insights and I believe she‘ll make it.

Ten to five

The phone rang at ten to five, stupid telephone. How she hated when the phone rang, especially at ten to five. At ten to five she was born, at ten to five she would always get up, from ten to five years of age. It was an useful insomnia which determined it was time to do her homework. As for grades, she would never get a 10/10, only a 5/10 at school, and she always understood why. What she never understood was why, after an outstanding kiss, her last boyfriend decided to leave her in the middle of a party, holding her purse. She was already going back home and stared at the clock. It couldn’t be different: it showed 10 to 5.

(non-autobiographical)