Reasons why I love my dog

I've just come to the realization that my posts, though unfrequent, feed off my procrastination. In this case, I couldn't help but stop what I was doing (which wasn't hard at all, as I'm a professional procrastinator) to look at Roquefort (my pom aka "best friend/love of my life", pretty much sharing the title with my hubby). Long story short, Roque is just napping on the floor right next to the desk where I'm doing my work today and just looking at him makes my heart explode with love. As if I needed to explain this adoration I feel for him, I had to write this little note dedicated to him, so here's a quick list of reasons,

• He is loyal AF!!! I mean it, he never goes too far away from me* and being this clingy/needy person that I am, that means a lot
• He has the cutest face foxy like, I'm serious he's a good looking dog
• He is a good napper, if you want to cuddle, he's your guy!
• He loves comfort, always after: a good pillow, human bed >>> doggie bed, upgraded treats (none of those dry cheap ones, he'll refuse), he's a professional lounger
• He looks at me with his beautiful brown eyes as if he was waiting for something or as if he understood whenever I talk to him (yes I do talk to him, and yes sometimes like baby talk)
• He will always make me feel better when I'm sad, sick, under the weather, he will always try

Bottom line: he is the best!

*except for a very good reason: steak, delicious human food-he should not be eating, a weird noise that makes him turn into Cujo, and maybe a squirrel.

My war against the lint roller

I hereby declare my defeat on the lint roller war. Just like that, I have two dogs so I will always have fur going around. This defeat can be easily adopted to other situations in my life. And by defeat, I do not mean I will give up on anything, no, this defeat is more like an abandonment, I will stop fighting. I came to learn, as arrogant as this may be, that whether you challenge or just embrace the negative side of things, every one of us needs to find what suits best to confront things in life. Going back to lint roller use, this means for me not being obsessed with every fur on my clothes and certainly WILL NEVER GIVE MY DOGS AWAY, no. Loosing the war with the lint roller use just means to vacuum whenever and leave it be if not necessary. 

Interestingly enough, the original name I had for this post was "Deep life lessons learned at the most unexpected place" and I wanted to write about many ups and downs (lessons) I've had so far living in such a "celebrity loaded" city (which, if I may, some people may say it's a materialistic capital). Somehow my attention was deviated from such a cheesy title and got caught with just a domestic issue. And it is so, domestic issues as well as "dazzling/superficial" experiences can be transformed into deep life lessons. Therefore, I declared defeat on many wars I thought I had to fight (I have slowly done so over the last couple years but I never acknowledged I was doing it). Bottom line, I decided I'm not interested about fighting wars with guilt,  self-judgment, the perception other people have about me... aren't most of these things just on my head? Well, there's that.

We are all "that girl" or the prevalence of similar problems among females

One of the things that make me cringe a bit is the fact that I will never be a serious writer, or well, a memoirist or a novelist. Whenever I come back to my dusty old blog and revisit some of the stories that have been left in the backburner, all I can think of is, why did I leave it for so long? The answer to this question is that I somehow relegate or simply prioritize other things before writing [a big proof of that is the one full year it took me to publish my master's research article]. The willingness to write again came to me just a few days ago, when I finished reading Lena Durham's "Not that kind of girl" and besides the obvious - identifying myself with the bunch of "very prevalent" health issues, such as endometriosis and therapy - I was dying of envy because this chick is in her twenties and she has written, directed and furthermore, made herself famous publishing something that I feel so familiar with. Not only she has done it in a way that I consider as somehow intellectual, but damn! She has good memory and attention to details! I could never remember with such a careful detail those incidents from my childhood, teen years, etc that have brought me to where I am today, neither I would have all the myriad of fancy words to describe them (not even in Spanish, dear friends). And above all, how would I be able to organize my chapters? [if I were to write a semi-memoir/girly novel].

The one thing I remember very well is that once, I dreamed about writing, and I do have a love of books, nevertheless, whenever people ask me about my favorites and what kind of books have influenced me, I just put this ? on my face. I know [just like Lena], I started asking my dad for very weird things since I was a child. I know that he would treat me like a little adult [except for love/relationships/boys matters], fuck! I just remembered (thanks to a bus poster) that I read King Lear when I was like 12! Yeah, just after reading the diary of Anne Frank, and all because it was sitting there in my house and I was looking for something to read. Not only that, but I remember myself telling my dad that it reminded me a bit of his side of the family (tough I know). Anyways, books have been a part of me and I've been a part of my books. I even used to come up with my own dialogues, stories among characters I would invent for my drawings [and no, I don't remember exactly what that would be about], a blurry memory is that, sometimes I would talk to myself. One time, my dad told me I could be a writer and I was ecstatic :D

Now, I realize that just like Lena, I tend to be self involved and always turn things into my own story but maybe most of us do. And by most, I am not referring to women only, to those girls who were not the popular ones in school, I am talking about these very prevalent issues that one can be identified with because, well just because they are there and they are part of our lives.

Just like this post, I have ideas, how I could expand my anecdotes into post entries, how I could set up a collection on them. Maybe even better, making a combination of my diary entries with this place, just making it a backup to my memories, just in case, one day I decide to write.

Jacarandas

There's this street nearby my apartment with a lot of Jacarandas, it is actually one of my favorite places to walk by. Jacarandas are interesting to me, not only because they remind me of Tepoztlan (another favorite place of mine) but because one can not appreciate how beautiful they are until they're in bloom. They can be unnoticeable, like skinny branches with random leaves and then once spring comes they transform into this awesome display of purple. Not that I am trying to make any analogies here, or I guess I could... Whenever I think about the things I really love about LA that has to be one of the most important and memorable, all those streets with Jacarandas on the side. And it is that from time to time I can get obsessed with little things, like the presence of a tree, the amount of light or the bricks of the buildings. Somehow it's the little details that can make me feel more at ease, as if I were home. Which by the way keeps changing a lot these days.
Even though I have a love/hate relationship with changes, I tend to embrace some of them, such as changing places to call home and while doing this I discover little things about my own personality specially when I am alone (completely and utterly alone just like right now).

Entonces es nostalgia?

Porque si no, no entiendo como llamarle a eso que de repente ocurre unos que otros momentos. Y no, no es que quiera revivir algún episodio de esos... Según mi borrador, empece a escribir este post en 2012 y lo había dejado de lado por un buen rato. El punto original era sobre esa linea entre la nostalgia y echar de menos (si es que la hay). Sin embargo, hoy en la mañana tuve uno de esos momentos donde me estaba clavando en pensar sobre las cosas que hubieran sido distintas (no recuerdos, porque no pasaron), las cosas que serian iguales, pero sobre todo pensando en pensar y en como me puedo obsesionar con ciertos pensamientos. De repente sale a la superficie ese resentimiento que le tengo a una persona y que definitivamente no me gusta. 

No quiero tener resentimientos, no me gusta el rencor, ni mucho menos amargarme los días pensando en aquellas circunstancias/personas que no me aportan nada. Afortunadamente, creo que he aprendido mucho, sobre todo de personas que lastime siendo egoísta e hipócrita. Esas personas a las que definitivamente les tengo nostalgia, les tengo recuerdos (nada de escenarios hipotéticos) y que de alguna manera tengo que recordar cada vez que me siento como hoy. 

How often do you practice those things you preach?

Over the last few months I've been obsessed with these words: "kindness, compassion, forgiveness, acceptance, peace and love". I heard them during my practice one day when I was particularly extremely sad, and oh man! did they make a difference!
But it all seemed forgotten when I started holding on to this grudge, anger, sadness and bitterness about something that I have no stake at, nor can I do anything to change. So when I woke up this morning, I started thinking about my hypocrisy, how do I even dare to talk to other people about letting it go and love those around you? Well while I do acknowledge that I was wrong, I also noticed remembered that the kindness must be applied to one self too.

soundtrack

The perks (pains) of being (nice) a bitch

I can't even remember what was this about in the first place. Anyways, as I am sitting here in my bedroom thinking it's probably not a good idea to vent about my issues right now, I will just say this, I don't care!
Y'all got issues, don't you? I know we do, I know I do... Yes I might have said too many times how I think I'm doing better and getting over mine. BS! I'm not going anywhere, or maybe it is just one of those times when I'm having a meltdown. I remember how I thought about so many things that would make sense in this post while I was in the shower or just working but somehow I've forgotten most of it. Yeah, try to remember what you thought about last week after a few beers and then you tell me.
And by you, who am I talking to? I know whenever I do something like writing here, my words go somewhere where people are reading and probably thinking what the fuck.
But that doesn't matter because I'm trying to be nice. I came to realize that I am passive aggressive, yeah pretty obvious the title now isn't it? [Lately] I try to be nice when what I really want is to be a bitch, oh no! there are some things that are not really that cool mister, NOT COOL! Do you even know what a feeling is like? My guess is that you don't, if you do, you do (passive aggressive alert), for what I care is that you broke my heart (sort of) and now I just need some time off. In the mean time I'll keep pretending.

Let go 2

“Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.” – C. S. Lewis

Pues resulta que estaba platicando con una amiga que precisamente fue la que me enseño a sentirme feliz por esa persona que fue parte de mi vida (cuento largo, pero que la verdad termino bien) y me di cuenta que era momento de avanzar. Ese paso que sigue, ese que muchas veces no quieres dar, pero que es necesario. Sentirse feliz por la persona que alguna vez amaste y ahora es parte de la vida de alguien mas, en mi caso no es facil,  pero asi es la vida. Soltar, dejar ir, pasar a lo que sigue. De otra forma, estamos atrapados en un laberinto sin salida. Gracias a mi amiga, gracias a mi vida que me da nuevos comienzos, cosas bonitas, personas bonitas [suspiros, muchos, y los que me faltan]. Quizá es el momento que debía llegar, quizas eres tu esa persona que completa mis momentos, mientras lo descubro y te descubro...

yeah yeah yeah yeah

I get this bittersweet moment when I think about last Thursday, without going into details, I can admit that I make the worst decisions ever. But that is not the main point here, my whining about the consequence is. As it turns out, I can't deal with the consequences of my poor decision making process and I usually end up with the results kicking me in the ass. Even if this result is not common to ALL my decisions in life, it is to some of the most crucial (emotionally/relationship wise).

As a result of this "thinking" I started wondering, how many of you out there share this feeling, how many of you own your shit and keep yourselves together? How do you know if what you are doing is what you really want. Beyond that, if you've faced a time when you made a crucial decision, did you whine about your consequences just like me?

What if we were given absolute power on the things we want to get, would the consequences of our actions be so overwhelming for our simple selves to handle? Would the decisions we'd make then define us? Up to this moment, I haven't really thought that far. I'm just here wondering my what if's, thinking about why I've been making the decisions I made and some trivial things, such as what to make for dinner.

50 years y sin embargo siempre volvemos...

I believe there is a surgeon general report for drinking too and yet I am writing under the influence (WUI?). However, that isn't my point, what I wanted to write about is how we get engaged in all those sweet delicious self-destructing habits. Yeah, we know smoking is bad but some people still do it (I'm not going to say that I don't because I've been weak lately... just don't tell my fellow public health professionals). Even though we acknowledge that something is bad for us, we insist on doing it and my ideas are not clear as to why it happens. It could be SM, it could be that we just love how we feel while doing those guilty "pleasures". Now that I say we "love", como dice Shakira "siempre volvemos a amar" y es que amar es una de esas cosas que hacemos una y otra vez aunque duela.
Before I get into the whole english-spanish blah blah blah, I gotta say that I'm guilty as charge of whatever the case I am trying to build here. I somehow end up in the weirdest/worst/most painful situations ever. If you'd ask me why, I could not come up with a straight answer. Maybe it is just that love is just like smoking. No, let me take that back, it is not love what is wrong, it's all about the choices we make regarding love. Ok! not us, but myself. I make horrible choices and that is a fact (don't ask). Anyways, doing certain things out of "love" can be a rough path if you ask me but somehow they're addictive, you can't stop (ask me again). I just want to pretend I am one of those MadMen guys and pretend I don't know the consequences.
So happy 50th surgeon general report on smoking :)
 

let go

Este post lo tenía pensado desde hace más de un mes. Aunque las circunstancias que me habían traído aquí siguen siendo las mismas, mis sentimientos y pensamientos han ido cambiando poco a poco. El 5 de Noviembre pensaba empezar con una frase de esas que te recuerdan cuando traes todo lo de adentro hecho cachitos, pero a la vez tienes esa sensación de ardor continuo que no se quita aunque llores. Algo así como el hueco en el estómago que se hace cuando escuchas algo que no es lo que esperabas. Ese hueco fue el que sentí cuando escuché lo que me dijeron sobre mi futuro en unas cartas, y es que nunca había tenido esa experiencia (la de las cartas). Básicamente me dijeron que tenía que dejar ir, "move on".

Eso precisamente me llevó a pensar en un par de veces cuando tuve que "dejar ir" y tuve ese sentimiento en el pecho y en el estómago. Si hay algo que recuerdo claramente al respecto, es lo difícil que me resultó dejar de pensar en esas situaciones/personas/emociones. Es que, en conclusión, soy una aferrada. Y tampoco es que quiera presumir de alguna receta infalible (aunque practicar yoga ayuda y mucho), o quejarme desconsolada. Lo único que puedo hacer ahora es escribir aquí y tratar de dejar ir.

All the Jasmines, Annas and Cathys

I’m not gonna lie, this post just came right to my head, and yes it is because I got obsessed with Blue Jasmine. Without being a Woody’s fan, I have to say that it is exquisite and terrifying, not because I can relate to the jet setting life style whatsoever, after all I’m just a broke grad student. The point of that movie being terrifying-exquisite is that of putting meds (you know which kind) and traumatic episodes of one’s life in a movie. So there you go, I felt like I could somehow end up talking to myself…scary uh? Well as much as it was scary/sad it had all the right amount of sadness to make it funny. I just couldn’t help it but cracking up whenever she started talking incessantly about herself and thus making other people annoyed. 

Furthermore, with the latest update on my life situation, it seemed just like the right movie to watch after Elizabeth Wurtzel’s story (meds again) or just how one can be pretty fucked up. Somehow all this chain of events led me to think, just this morning on the bus, how I’ve been mildly(?) obsessed all my life with female characters who, let’s face it, are fucked up (yeah, this is me using fucked up over and over again, I may be obsessed with that one too). And this obsession is not recent, no sir, it goes way back in time (>15 years maybe?). After struggling these last few days to remember what Madame Bovary’s name was, whose last name I couldn’t even remember. It just struck me today, Jasmine and Elizabeth were coming to join Emma’s club, but the club is not exclusive to Emma, oh no way. Anna Karenina is one of my “all-time” favorite books, damn it, I absolutely loved that book. So there you go, Anna is there, with Cathy, remember her? She fucking suffered to the point it was unbelievable. Sorry Emily, I love you but you were pretty fucked up yourself too, and I am just jealous I could never be a talented writer. Then, a week ago, just to catch up with the mental issues I went to watch Marla on fight club being an unconditional/puppy-like lover (which by the way happened on a midnight screening, where, I fitted in just perfectly).

Interestingly enough, my “lady-names obsession club” could not be complete without having other female tormented martyrs from my own ethnicity: Teresa aka badass/drugdealer/I’m-a-slut-but-I-don’t-care-I’m-great-at-this Mendoza (I know it is cliché and all but it’s Reverte’s masterpiece and extremely delicious, yes I’m calling a book “delicious”); Catalina Guzman (even the book title was drama-like and they just screwed it up with the awful movie); Clemencia; Tita and then the very best Sierva María de todos los Ángeles. And so my list goes on and on and there was a moment where it was getting diverse including Adelines and Mikages. But, now it is neither spanding nor diversifying, why? It seems like I’m in the middle of this reading/writing/depressing block that has left me empty. And I just can’t get over it by myself, so it all goes back to the Blue Jasmine situation. I need to think about to meds or not to meds.

But the rambling doesn’t stop here, I then started to think about the names going all the way to music, what about Corinne? Caroline (personal – stars)? Even my name is in one or two songs (that I know of), one of them über-lame I know (I was never into guns and roses but hey, something must be better than nothing). Wait, I’m getting distracted here, the whole point was to shred my obsession with female names involved with some kind of drama in their lives and now I’m talking about songs? Argh, I just can’t do one thing without the other, there’s music and there’s books… maybe a bit of tv and I could talk about Piper and how that show makes lesbians interesting but I'll skip that (for now).  


Oh! And this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t9Qp7ZNJq7A

Del miedo, huecos en la panza y otras cosas

Es que, es que, no sé por donde empezar. Mejor dicho, no tengo una idea clara de lo que quiero decir o hacer exactamente. Estos últimos meses todo ha sido confusión. De repente tengo huecos en el estómago, que podrían traducirse como miedo. Eso, o algo que se siente como un poco de acelere en el pecho, ansiedad? Esa ansiedad cada vez que suena el timbre o el teléfono. Entonces espero y no espero, o espero que seas tú. Aunque no sé que diría exactamente que no haya dicho ya... La verdad tengo miedo, pánico. Después de todo lo que ha pasado, de admitir mis errores y de haber echado todo a perder.
Qué haría? Mentir, sí eso me sale naturalmente. Siempre he mentido, tal vez aplico el "sugarcoating" que me han dicho que es muy mexicano (un ex holandés que poco/casi nada sabía de México), y yo digo que es mío (y tal vez sean muchas las personas que lo hacen pero no lo admiten). Ese hábito que tengo de ocultar lo que siento para no preocupar/lastimar es parte de mentir también. Pero esto no se trata de mis hábitos, tampoco se trata de como lidio con mis errores o como echo a perder las cosas. Se trata de miedos, de desear que todo cambie, que sea más sencillo, que de repente seas tú.

Aquí o Allá, A o B

Tengo que confesar que este post había iniciado como una serie de argumentos sin sentido sobre la necesidad que tengo de sentirme responsable por los sentimientos ajenos. Sin embargo, se ha quedado en borrador (por ahora no sé si pasará de ahí), y en su lugar empecé a pensar sobre una plática que recién tuve con una amiga. El punto es que en esa plática nos preguntábamos y fantaseábamos sobre la idea de transferir lo que sabemos ahora a nuestra yo de hace 15 años. Más allá de nuestras divertidas conclusiones de ese momento y de perder el tiempo en el chat de facebook, la plática me hizo pensar en más opciones. Qué habría pasado en aquél entonces conmigo? Con algunas de mis decisiones más importantes? Me imagino que el resultado afectaría inevitablemente la persona que soy ahora. Entonces, como suele pasarme, empecé a intensear con el asunto y hacerme toda clase de escenarios. Cuántas cosas le diría a mi yo de 20 recién mandada a la chingada por el que creía era el amor de su vida! O 5 años después en una situación similar... En fin, había un número infinito de posibilidades para imaginar, pero a todo esto, cómo para qué me servía pensar en cosas que así se quedarían no matter what?
Precisamente por lo obsesiva que puedo ser, o porque me encanta perder el tiempo en pendejadas, empecé a pensar en un camino diferente. Y es que últimamente el asunto de la inferencia estadística de atrás para adelante, de adelante para atrás o como quiera que las redes de Bayes lo manejen, me ha dado a pensar que el camino que pensamos como "lógico" no necesariamente será igual siempre Y sobre todo no será el mismo para todos. Así que, si hasta ahora no he complicado demasiado mi idea original, a lo que quiero llegar es a que si bien ahora no sé lo que sabré dentro de otros 15 años y mi yo del futuro va a desear venir a patearme el culo por azotada, lo que sí sé es que esta yo de ahora necesita aplicar algo de "desazote". En otras palabras, si he tomado decisiones poco convencionales, y he cometido errores dignos de enmarcar y pedir un récord Guinness, a la hora de afrontar las consecuencias o de lamentarme por los resultados, debo pensar de manera prospectiva: Qué me diría dentro de 15 años? Al final, no se trata todo de decisiones? Esas elecciones entre tú o ella/él, ella o yo, ustedes/nosotros, A o B? Si en este momento estoy tomando una opción como la mejor es porque puedo hacerlo con lo que sé y esto no va a cambiar (no tengo manera de ver hacia adelante), pero definitivamente puedo pensar en cómo afrontaría yo las consecuencias siendo un poco más madura.
Entonces está bien si no me eligen a mí, si la eligen a ella. Si yo no elijo a nadie, o si finalmente no se trata de eligir personas, se trata de eligir caminos, tallas, colores, una carrera. Al final, si todas las elecciones han sido/son errores, estos son míos y me están transformando continuamente. Eso sí, en su momento algunos de esos errores han sido bastante divertidos y no los cambiaría, cambiaría la forma de lidiar con sus consecuencias.

"All my mistakes are fun to make, the consequences to deal with not as much" 

self sabotage and other ways I find to complicate my life

By now it is almost tradition that when I have lots of important things to do, I just come here instead of actually doing them. As I am starting these lines, I have completely forgotten most of what I wanted to write (which pretty much kept me awake last night for a >couple hours). To further complicate things, my spotify has decided to boycott me and my addiction to music. Now, after two failed attempts to get music elsewhere, I finally found something decent (which I won't disclose). Anyways, as much as I want to keep rambling about non sense and general randomness, I gotta make a point here, oh yeah! I do sabotage myself. And how is that? Well, it turns out that I make strange decisions based on_____ (insert here any word as I have no clue) and for some reason, it has started to feel like it could be self sabotage. HOWEVER, this is not entirely true, as up to date some of those "_____" decisions have led me to where I am now, and this is a cool place (with therapy and stress but a cool place!). 

I won't fully discuss my current situation but I will say that I am happy to complicate my life and even though, sometimes I feel like I am doing wrong, I am embracing whatever it is to come.

Oh! And one more thing, does anyone know why is Josh Homme so fucking hot? 

out of the blue

You can't stop

Complaints about complaining

So many times I've heard/read people complain about all sorts of things. Honestly, most of those times I could not care less BUT I was just reading an article this morning (which debates on the "fat/thin sexiness struggle") and it made me want to write something. I feel like beyond the specific health related issues with body weight, the aesthetics totally rely upon the person emitting the judgement. In other words, I can relate to both, those non-skinny people saying how a voluptuous figure is the sexiest and those other who argue that the real beauty is that based on the regular fashion ads. It all gets bad when I hear those anti-skinny say that pro-skinny beauty are against them and other paranoid opinions (do you really think their biggest concern is to diminish the "larger" sizes? seriously?). In my opinion, perception of "what is sexy" depends on every person and does not necessarily mean that a specific person will advocate against another person with a different opinion. Isn't it all about judgement? I can't even tell how many times I found myself judging other people's judgement.  Just like people complaining about other people, let's say the I-hate-hipsters-for-being-so-damn-pretentious, well aren't you pretentious too? After all you're emitting a judgement based on your opinion that you know more stuff than they do and therefore they're just pretending... And so it goes on and on, people complain about too much religion, no religion at all, science, politics, and pretty much anything, even this post came out as a complaint about everyone being annoying while complaining.

Disclaimer: I'm not pro or against voluptuous figures, I'm pro healthy (which in my head translates to a healthy diet, regular physical activity and a balanced life). About looks, all I can say is that I look up to athletic figures (I definitely see sexy as tight skinny vs voluptuous saggy and the other way around, tight voluptuous vs saggy skinny).

some good words

Live in Joy, In love, 
Even among those who hate. 

Live in joy, In health, 
Even among the afflicted. 

Live in joy, In peace, 
Even among the troubled. 

Look within. Be still. 
Free from fear and attachment, 
Know the sweet joy of living in the way. 

~ 

There is no fire like greed, 
No crime like hatred, 
No sorrow like separation, 
No sickness like hunger of heart, 
And no joy like the joy of freedom. 

Health, contentment and trust 
Are your greatest possessions, 
And freedom your greatest joy. 

Look within. Be still. 
Free from fear and attachment, 
Know the sweet joy of living in the way. 


from the Dhammapada, Words of the Buddha 

You can't have it all

En las palabras de mi papá "No se puede tener todo en la vida". Un poco decepcionante, un poco pesimista o tal vez un poco más realista de lo que quería pensar, en realidad nunca he sabido como clasificar sus palabras. Y es que recientemente he pensado mucho sobre las decisiones que he tomado y las situaciones que eso me ha llevado a vivir. Y aunque no puedo decir que me arrepiento (exes incluidos), definitivamente hay algunas de las que no estoy segura si hubiera sido mejor elegir una alternativa.

Independientemente del rollo social, psicológico, etcétera, al que podríamos estar sujetas las mujeres (no es mi intención, ni siquiera de pasadita entrarle al asunto de "género"), la verdad sí creo que hay diferencias significativas en el "timeline" entre hombres y mujeres. Ahí es precisamente a donde va lo que he estado pensando estos días: No puedo tenerlo todo! Cuando me pongo a ver las fotos en facebook de mis amigas "felizmente casadas y con hijos" (ese debate será cuestión de algún otro post), de repente siento esa cosquillita. 

Qué es la cosquillita? Pues eso que te da de repente cuando piensas en lo padre que sería tener tu rol de mamá cumplido a estas alturas de la vida. En mi caso, mi mamá a mi edad ya me tenía a mi y a hermano. Y para cuando yo empiece a pensar en tener mi primer hijo, ella ya me tenía a mí de 15 años!!!!!! Entonces me pongo a pensar en todas las ventajas de tener un hijo cuando eres joven, como cuando tienes la energía para jugar con ellos, cuidarlos y desvelarte en las noches.

Peeeroooo, de repente cambio por completo mi perspectiva y volteo a ver la escuela, la oficina, mis artículos, mi borrador para la NSF (que debería estar escribiendo ahorita). Es en ese momento cuando pienso en lo que estoy haciendo, algo que me hace feliz. Y a pesar de que no estoy "felizmente casada y con hijos", no puedo quejarme del todo. Lo de "felizmente casada" ya vendrá :) y aunque lo de los hijos no puedo saberlo hasta que no se haga mi cirugía, no tengo prisas (las limitaciones propias de la edad son parte de ese sonado "You can't have it all" en mi cabeza y contra el reloj biológico no se puede hacer nada).

De todas maneras,

No te enteraste, porque muchas cosas se quedaron/quedarán guardadas entre los borradores. Aunque de algunas otras cosas te enteraste sin querer, o buscaste saberlas, quizás un poco desviadas de la realidad. Hoy estaba pensando en esas cosas que he buscado saber en estos meses y las que de alguna manera estoy pasando por alto (y no debería, pero me da miedo saber?). Y la conclusión es que no llego a ningún lado, simplemente pienso en mis planes a futuro (con un poco de paranoia) y a veces no sé si eso que pienso podrá pasar o no.