A year in life
(written in May 2016, and for some mobscure reason I didn't upload it until today)
I wonder if there's some sort of hidden pattern behind the entries in this blog. Last time I posted something (let alone writing) was pretty much a year ago. Some of the things here are meant to be seen and read by others or someone in particular. Many times, like this, the entry is just a personal ramble on thoughts, emotions and projects.
Shortly after my last entry, I finished my lunch box selection of stories, mostly due to the end of my relationship with the person to whom those stories were addressed to, during her lunch hours at work. But I also traveled back home, went on a family vacation, my father caught pneumonia abroad, my father died three weeks later, I stayed in Buenos Aires trying to hold the family business, we got a puppy dog, got in all sort of stress with the future, I shut down the family business, visited a therapist, I met -again- a beautiful person, left her and my family to travel back to Canada, decided not to pursue graduate studies, worked on a political campaign, decided not to work again in politics, repressed my emotional turmoil, and almost burst in tears of joy -last week- when my brother told me that at this precise moment -while I write this- he will be jumping from a plane, into the sky, and propose marriage to his partner. Yes, those two at the same time.
My father is one my most important figures in my life. When I found out that he died, my immediate thought was of how grateful should I be, despite the drilling sound if my circumstances. I did not see that coming, and I am still trying to adjust to it.
Perhaps there's no noticeable pattern, though I can think this explains a lot about my character. The duty of writing is clear in me, but I'm also so inconsistent. And indecisive. Because, if I have to be honest, I always carry a small notebook with me, on which I write vague thoughts and disgregations along with more immediately useful information, like an address or a poem. I can't decide between the analog and the virtual world. And that's fine for the moment.
Since no one is seriously reading this blog, at least since I dropped talking about bookbinding, I will give myself the freedom to write my most random thoughts. From the most personal and insignificant to the ones that go barely beyond that. In the end, exercising is the key for mastering any skill. And since I want to write but have nothing better to do it about, I will just write.
Shortly after my last entry, I finished my lunch box selection of stories, mostly due to the end of my relationship with the person to whom those stories were addressed to, during her lunch hours at work. But I also traveled back home, went on a family vacation, my father caught pneumonia abroad, my father died three weeks later, I stayed in Buenos Aires trying to hold the family business, we got a puppy dog, got in all sort of stress with the future, I shut down the family business, visited a therapist, I met -again- a beautiful person, left her and my family to travel back to Canada, decided not to pursue graduate studies, worked on a political campaign, decided not to work again in politics, repressed my emotional turmoil, and almost burst in tears of joy -last week- when my brother told me that at this precise moment -while I write this- he will be jumping from a plane, into the sky, and propose marriage to his partner. Yes, those two at the same time.
My father is one my most important figures in my life. When I found out that he died, my immediate thought was of how grateful should I be, despite the drilling sound if my circumstances. I did not see that coming, and I am still trying to adjust to it.
Perhaps there's no noticeable pattern, though I can think this explains a lot about my character. The duty of writing is clear in me, but I'm also so inconsistent. And indecisive. Because, if I have to be honest, I always carry a small notebook with me, on which I write vague thoughts and disgregations along with more immediately useful information, like an address or a poem. I can't decide between the analog and the virtual world. And that's fine for the moment.
Since no one is seriously reading this blog, at least since I dropped talking about bookbinding, I will give myself the freedom to write my most random thoughts. From the most personal and insignificant to the ones that go barely beyond that. In the end, exercising is the key for mastering any skill. And since I want to write but have nothing better to do it about, I will just write.
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