I've turned on comments. I'd be curious to see what people say.
Human beings look for patterns. Our way of surviving the sensory overload that is everyday life is to look for familiar patterns. Patters in behavior, situations, people, etc.
I am at the moment in the same spot on the planet i was in a year ago. The same rooms, the same breath taking view. The pattern is familiar and yet the machine doing the computation is different. I am that “different” machine.
In the past year i have undergone more growth and change than ever before in my life. I am grateful for it and i think as time goes by i can wear these scars proudly. But tonight for just a few moments i wish i could have changed without loosing what i thought i had. Maybe all that really means is that i hope to think i have it again. For now i’ll take comfort in conversations with a girl from St. Louis and identifying with a misplaced Argentine girl in Mexico City.
it’s 2:30 am and i find myself pondering the nature of being a writer. to be far more truthful i find myself pondering my own nature. my tendencies, my subtle ways of hurting myself to feel alive. It is ironic that on the one hand i loathe the more obvious forms of self destructive tendencies i’ve observed in others. My siblings my ex-gf and yet tonight as i inched as close to putting the figurative needle back into my arm as i possible could without actually doing so i realized that i do it on purpose. I push these internal limits to see where that will take me. i allow myself to loath that part of me that wants to know the things that will only make it worse. I need more realism in my own life. I am dangerously close to falling back into a hole of vicarious living that almost killed me. I am struggling with a romantic in me that either needs to be falling in love or broken hearted. I crave that rush of connection. It has been a very long year indeed.
having just watched an inconvenient truth i find myself culpable of the greatest of oversights; being lazy, unaware. of thinking the problems too great and hoping someone else fixes them. I live in a small neighborhood in one the most polluted and over populated cities in the world. Mexico City. The neighborhood is La Condesa, Mexico Cities Soho to make a rough and somewhat crude analogy. It is a place that has become overcrowded with parked cars on weekends from the hundreds of people that come their to spend there free time lunching and dining amongst the many restaurants that have sprouted up. It’s a place that has exactly two public trash cans both outside of two 7-11’s. two trash cans for an entire neighborhood of people consuming. The predictable outcome is that the streets are often littered with paper and half eaten fruits or worse small plastic bags full of trash stuffed into the hollow bits of tree’s or street lamps. I’ve often thought to myself something should be done. but i allow my cynicism about my country, the corruption, mediocrity and self centered-ness that seems an innate trait in my country men to take over. So i just go on, every day. Hoping that someone else will take action, and that one day i might find a public trash can in which to discard of my apple core, or star-bucks cup. I am guilty of expecting it to just happen when perhaps everyone else is expecting the same. I feel compelled to figure out something of the system that governs my little speck of dust on this ball of earth and perhaps effect some small change so that some other me in la Condesa is pleasantly surprised one day to find he has a trash can in which to properly dispose of his trash.