Untied thoughts

Pequeña cárcel

2009-02-14T02:33:00.002-02:00

En esto de no quererse uno mismo, se puede descubrir algún día que sólo por tener unos (en este caso MUCHOS) kilos de más, se ha dejado de lado todo tipo de intercambio social.
Puede sonar extraño, hasta rayando la ridiculez, pero cuando a uno lo hacen crecer con un complejo fuerte sobre la imágen externa, es difícil sacudirse el estigma y salir adelante airoso. Ya hace 10 años que empecé mi encierro. No necesito paredes, tampoco rejas fuertes..con mi mente basta y sobra.
En todo esto debo reconocerme el mérito de la apariencia...a pesar de todo, nadie se imagina los demonios que cargo por dentro, la cantidad de voces que me gritan a la vez y no descansan. Por fuera parezco en paz...aunque las voces siguen gritando. Son voces que no se callan, no suenan de a una, se superponen. A veces no entiendo, me aturden y me generan uno de esos ataques de ansiedad que me llevan a liberar presión como una olla en plena cocción. Se me quema la cabeza. Lloro. No lo controlo. Se me ocurren millones de cosas. Todas negativas. Todas son NO. Si no me hablan ni me preguntan qué me pasa, me calmo en un rato. Si me ven y percibo preocupación, me siento una molestia.
Me he estado cansando de mi misma en estos días y, aunque trato de relajarme, no puedo...me supera. Intento dejar a los que me rodean que hagan lo que quieran y no estar constantemente enojada. No digo nada, no reclamo, no reto, no peleo, no argumento...me limito a sufrir de impotencia...exactamente lo que no debiera hacer.
Mi cuerpo ES mi herramienta de trabajo, pero me resulta más sencillo cuidar la camioneta que a mi misma. Entonces empiezo mi monólogo interior. No me merezco nada. Debo haber hecho algo para merecer esto. Pero también me pregunto: "Por qué no me permito disfrutar de TODO lo bueno que me pasa?"
Todo es negativo, todo es deprimente. Hasta estas palabras son de terror. Quiero ver los colores brillantes, dejar de concentrarme en lo oscuro, saber que no me tengo que preocupar por cosas tontas y REALMENTE dejar de hacerlo.
Hace 10 años más o menos dejé de frecuentar a mis amigos y amigas de la infancia porque me daba vergüenza que me vean gorda. Desde entonces no logro conservar a ningún amigo nuevo de los millones que tuve en mi camino. Por lo tanto...no me los merezco. "Los amigos son como plantas que necesitan de cuidado" y yo estoy provocando que todos se sequen.
"No te tenés que encerrar ni encerrar a tu familia", he escuchado repetir al menos un par de veces a mi psiquiatra en consulta. Y es en esas ráfagas de lucidez que me doy cuenta que no tengo amigos...los descuidé a todos...sólo por no sentirme bien conmigo misma...sólo porque no me puedo sacar de la cabeza que la imágen lo es todo.

2008-10-08T22:31:00.000-03:00

Make a Smilebox photobook

De ansiedades y demás yerbas

2008-08-20T11:10:00.004-03:00

Acabo de visitar nuevamente el blog de una hermana del corazón, y me encontré leyendo una descripción medio fumada pero SUPER artística de la ansiedad que padecemos aquellos que la incorporamos como un "desorden".
Y hablando de ansiedades...ayer tuve visita al ginecólogo que atiende mi embarazo y a pesar de que le pedí que no me dé la fecha de parto aún, el MUY insensato de mi esposo se la preguntó en mi presencia...rayos!!! Yo que estaba cuidando mi umbral de desesperación!...falta un mes y 20 días que se pueden convertir en menos si mi organismo lo decide así. Para colmo de males...mi shrink se toma vacaciones durante toooodo Septiembre.
Entonces yo me pregunto: Y ahora qué hago????
Vuelve a atacarme la sensación de que nadie me entiende, solo mi sister que está a muchos kilómetros de distancia y mucho no puede hacer. Mi esposo me mira como si estuviera loca, mi madre me repite incansables veces que no me haga problema y mi cuñada semi-nueva me quiere llevar a una endocrinóloga!
No quiero tomar medicamentos! Ni del psiquiatra ni de una "yuyera". Lo que más quiero en este momento es que dejen de presionarme en la escuela con la insensata pregunta de "¿Cuándo tomás la licencia?" Si tienen tanto interés por saber ¿Cómo es que no se pudieron grabar el 19 de Septiembre de las millones de veces que contesté lo mismo?
Por desgracia, en términos generales, la gente no entiende a los que tienen "trastornos de ansiedad", nos ven como a locos, desequilibrados y hasta peligrosos. No entienden que el único inconveniente radica en la imposibilidad de manejar esa ansiedad, en la necesitad de no esperar, de que TODO (lo importante y lo no tanto) se resuelva YA.
Entiendan de una vez por todas que no estoy loca, solo un poquito apurada. Tengo paciencia de sobra para enseñarles a mis alumnos y tratarlos mejor que el resto (yo los trato como "adolescentes/personas" los otros profesores en general, sólo como "alumnos"), pero no llego ni al 1% de paciencia a la hora de esperar.
Resumiendo y para dejarlo más claro, me puedo colgar del dicho "El que espera, desespera"...
Si para cualquiera esto es común, para mi lo es aún más.

My days as teacher, tutor and patient gardener at Escuela Normal

2008-07-05T13:30:00.002-03:00

Yes, I finally got a job!!! My coming baby was not a problem to get it. I'm happy, I'm proud of myself, I want to scream, cry and laugh. I'm HAPPY!!!!
I have six groups, all different, but all adolescents. My favourite kind of students.
I've been working for a month and every day has been a blessing. Sometimes I have to tell them off because they don't want to do ANYTHING but in general terms they work with me without effort.
My pregnant belly is the star of the show. By touching it, they show me their feelings, by letting them touch it, I show them mine. I always try to keep my smile, in fact it's quite easy because I'm all the time enjoying my moment in front of the class, and my students seem to enjoy the same because our classes are a real learning experience. I don't have to yell at them, because when I stand in front without saying a word, they show me their respect by staying completely silent.
I've been teaching them only for a month, but I have already fallen in love with all my students, I still cannot make a distinction between the good ones and the bad ones, but honestly, I hope I never do it. I have to recognize that those who are bad in English are the cause of my worriment but only because I want all of them to learn.
I hate when I have to draw a cross besides their names because they haven't done their homework or they haven't brought their material to work in my class, but I know that I have to do it...and I do it.
Yesterday I had my first unfriendly encounter with a mother that was resistant to accept the idea that her daughter is not doing anything but talking with one of her classmates in my class. The woman was really upset and quite altered, I had to ask her to calm down because her daughter's situation wasn't my fault. Anyway, at some point I was afraid because I thought the mother would hit her daughter in front of me. She was really altered. Maybe if I hadn't had my pregancy she could have tried hitting me...
Anyway, I'm still extremely happy for this job, and I hope it lasts longer than it is supposed to.

Current situation: UNEMPLOYED

2008-03-25T08:21:00.002-03:00

My days are flowing in an awkward way. I'm pregnant, which makes me really happy, but I'm also unempleyed due to my pregnancy.
On one hand, I understand that it's a problem for some institutions to employ me, but on the other hand, I also feel that I'm being discriminated. Nowadays my options are to wait for a teacher to retire, and a friend giving me some of those hours, or wait for open calls to cover a position at the province. In other words, I'm in a stative situation which I'm not acustomed to.
I'M BORED STIFF!!!!!
I don't know waht to do. I'm reading, but reading is not comparable to the rushing times I had last year. I want to do something! I want to be outside. Being at home all the time makes me feel sick.
Anyway, I hope this situation changes in some way at some point, either because I find something to do or because being at home stops being a burden.
See you soon!

Long time no see!!!

2008-02-12T08:40:00.002-02:00

It's been a looong time since my last entry. Maybe all my regular visitors are already tired of visiting my blog without finding anything new. Well, this is the right moment to update the world about my life.

On December 13th I finally finished my teacher training studies. I sat for my last subject with a nervous breakdown which (thank God) nobody tried to do anything about. I was REALLY nervous and one of my anxiety attacks decided to appear at the very moment in which my teacher put the papers on my desk. I couldn't read anything! My eyes started to leak, and in a matter of seconds I was crying as a baby. It was a mixture of anxiety attack and impotence for having a sinking feeling that I was useless. I couldn't write because my hands didn't want to move, but I couldn't run away either, because my legs refused to. It's funny that today I can recall everything so vividly!

Yes, I'm crazy. Last year was a difficult one for me. It took me ages to keep up with all the hard work, but by the end of the year, when I was preparing my portfolio, I was amazed by my own capacities. My portfolio, by the way, was the element of my pride.

I have to thank many people, and I've been doing it via mail. However, THANK YOU everyone!!! From my classmates and language teacher, to all the people who supported me every way they could. As I already said, this was my achievement, but it was yours as well.

My birthday was as perfect as I dreamt it, having lunch with my relatives and dinner with the selected group I wanted. For the first time in years I had the chance to decide about the number of people. It was intimate, but it got crazy fun with my brothers and a putative brother throwing a karaoke show especially for me and my closest school friends, we were laughing and enjoying ourselves until 8.00 a.m.!

It was a real honour that my onion/inspiring Charlie came to my house (onion because many times when I was in his class I cried A LOT; inspiring, because my dream is to become the extraordinary encyclopedia that he is... when I grow up).

For Christmas and New Year's eve, I can gladly say that The Romanos had almost normal celebrations, with only a hint of a discussion over the holidays between my parents (which ended when both of them got slightly drunk). Shame on them! Mainly because their children were unexpectedly sober. In the end, the karaoke singing with my strange version of 'Strangers in the night' finished the work of wiping away every possible negative air at The Romanos house.

January. I was supposed to go to Mar del Plata with my son and my parents, but my sickly jealous husband did a great job burning my mind with guilt. So, when the bags, the bucket and toys were already in the car... another anxiety attack! I couldn't go out of my house. In fact, the sleeping pills I took the previous night made their effect on me when I said I wouldn't go. The last time I slept 24 hours in a row I was coming back from Bariloche in my 17s!

From December 14th until January 17th I was sick from amigdalitis, taking antibiotics every damned day with the only exception of one week. In other words...I've been sick for a month! On January 17th I finally got my 'throat balls' removed!!! My doctor asked me to check in at 9.30 a.m. and so I did. My mother, my husband and my son were there with me. Some minutes later my husband's mother was also there and an old friend from school. I was coming and going in my pijamas...nervous. At some point I asked my mother to find out the time in which I was supposed to have my surgery. A nice nurse told us that my name was on the board...at 12.00 p.m.! Why? Why is it that they asked me to go that early? Anyway, at 12.10 p.m. a short lady came and asked me to leave everything in the room... my glasses also. I said: 'Ok! But you'll have to lead my way because I cannot see anything...and the nurse only smiled at me with an incredulous face.

What a painfull post-surgery! The ones who know me couldn't believe that I was literally MUTE, and I've been mute for more than a week. My dear sis Chezika had the great idea of giving me as a gift for the day of my surgery... A MINNIE MOUSE'S MAGIC BOARD! Sadly enough...my handwriting is not as sharp as my mouth. My husband took advantage of the situation and made my post-surgery days a little bit...difficult. He could do whatever he wanted because by the time I finished writing what I wanted to scream...he was already two blocks away from home.

Anyway, those are the news so far, I'll try to write more often.

Until then...GOOD BYE!

Pics to enjoy with Charlie's gift

2007-11-26T17:38:00.000-03:00

My days without you...my classmates

2007-11-26T16:40:00.000-03:00

I cannot stop thinking about all of you, my friends, my pals, my fellows, my brother and sisters, my classmates. I'm studying and I'm thinking about you. It would be easier to send you a message, but you know me...I don't want to bother you, maybe you are studying and you don't want to be interrupted...I have some things to share with you...
My laptop broke my heart last Friday...in fact it was as if I had shot myself and let my body bleed quietly till the end. A glass of water fell on the keyboard while I was putting a folder in order...in my desperate insanity, I unplugged everything... the web connection out, mouse out, electricity out... I turned her upside down and shook it to remove the poison...but some drops were still there, refusing to abandon ship. As I said, I was desperately insane...I started crying because my laptop was my arm's extension, as my brother says. I'm still owing money I borrowed to buy it...she is young, like a baby...on December 7Th will be only 6 months old...I'm a murderer! When I saw that those drops wanted to enter between the keys I really wanted to die...I didn't know what to do... Air...I need some strong air to dry them all...the hairdryer...warm not hot, in case heat burns the keys...it was not getting dried...I put it closer, but I couldn't see the keys...
When I put the hairdryer out...the beginning of my real misery was in front of my startled eyes... the keys were melting!
I called my brother...crying. My father picked up the phone at the other end of the line. 'Daddy, is Rober there?'...'Yes, but what happens? You don't sound well'...I told him about my stupidity and he seemed distressed. My father woke up my brother, and my brother just wanted to kill me. The only thing my brother kept repeating was 'COMMON SENSE! WHERE'S YOUR COMMON SENSE? I thought you were intelligent! How could you be THAT stupid?!'
I remained mute, I didn't have the strength to answer, I didn't have anything to answer. I couldn't explain even to myself how could I have been THAT stupid...
The computer was working, and I didn't want to turn her off, in case she didn't want to start again. Only the volume keys stopped working, the rest from that deadly corner where loose and waved, but working properly.
My brother wanted to kill me, but started making phone calls to Buenos Aires and Bahía Blanca, where the best experts he knows are. After some minutes, he called me to say that we should send my baby to Bahía Blanca to have her full keyboard changed. The cost...around $450... and I still owe money! What could I do?
My beloved father, who has always been my angel, told my brother to do whatever it takes on his expense.
Meanwhile, I also found out that the video I made for our graduation dinner was broken during a formatting of my computer the day after the dinner, and I couldn't fix it. I tried for more than 3 hours to do it again, until the programme got stuck and I lost everything again. When this happened I was overwhelmed by such misfortune, but a light came down from heaven and I remembered that I had copied the video on Raquel's pen, just in case my laptop didn't work with Charlie's projector.
I called Raquel praying for her not having erased it, and thank God...she still got it.
Mi nick on messenger was: 'I would kill for a time machine...but I've just seen a weak light at the end of the tunnel'
Recovering the video that took me months to prepare, was a sign that not everything was lost.
Don't worry my friends, I have already recorded our video on a DVD so it is finally safe.
I what's related to my laptop, I'm writing on her at this moment, but having some difficulties with 'P' and 'Erase' keys which are not working as easy as they used to. Today my husband took her to an engineer which is working with him and maybe...I have a happy solution soon!
See you!
Keep in touch, and enjoy your days as much as you can...you never know when stupidity strikes you!

The first Part of the video

2007-11-23T16:56:00.000-03:00

Here it is my dear friends...the first part of our graduation video. Enjoy it until I manage to post the rest.

Love

Pato

P.S. In case you want to include it as part of your blog, this is the address:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEp2bZ1oFyw

A week's nightmare

2007-10-23T13:01:00.000-03:00

I'm starting school tomorrow, first grade, and I'm quite excited to meet new people. I hope my new teacher is as good as my kindergarten teacher. And my classmates? Are they going to be nice with me?. Anyway, I'm going to sleep now, my mom is telling me off because it's 11.30 p.m. and I'm not sleeping yet.
‘Good morning Miss Maria!!!’ Miss Maria told us that we have to greet her everyday in the same way, to show respect, you know. Oh! I'm the tallest in my class...nice! I look older than the rest! I can reach places which are forbidden for the short ones, but I don't like sitting in the back row of our class.
What is that? I'm listening to Miss Maria, but I cannot see what is she drawing on the board. Maybe if I close my eyes a little bit I can see better... Yes, I can! But it's tiring to be all the time like this...I'll take Carolina's seat, she is supposed to be sitting two places in front of me, but today she didn't come.
I'm a little better, but my teacher told me to go back to my place...I'm sad, where's my mummy? That woman... Miss Maria, you know, she is mean! She doesn't like me because my mother is not all the time at school. My classmates' mothers are...Marcela's mother is here, Laura's mother is also here, where's my mother? I really want to cry...but I won't. I won't cry because I'm not that weak. I'm going home now and I'll be better tomorrow.
Today I got dressed in a hurry and asked my father and brother to hurry too, because I want to arrive at school before the rest of my classmates. I want to sit in a better place. After all, sitting at the back I feel like a shadow. Miss Maria only talks to the girls sitting in the first three rows.
Nice, this is my chance, there's nobody else, I can choose wherever I want to sit!...’ No, Marcela, I want to have this seat, go to the back and sit in my place!’ Oops! Marcela is crying... I don't care, I didn't do anything wrong! Marcela's mother is coming! My God, she is a tall woman! I hope she won't dare to hit me, I'm afraid now. My chest sounds as if I had horse galloping inside. I’m trembling. I’m sweating. I'm trying to explain to this woman that I cannot see quite well from my seat, I understand that I'm as tall as a tree, and the little ones sitting behind me only see my back. I need someone to listen to my excuses. I've been suffering from a similar misfortune since the first day. My notebook is almost empty, I'm tired of being told off at home because I never finish taking notes in class. I really want to learn, I want to learn how to read. I don't like waiting for my parents having time to read me a short story! I'm tired of just imagining a story from pictures! I want to read!!! At the back I'm not learning...where's my mum?
My teacher is coming and Marcela's mother is rushing towards her! What is she going to say?...I'm in trouble...Oh, my God! I've been naughty, and if my mother finds out, I'll lose my dolls! I don't want to lose my things, I just want to learn! I'm desperate, I want to cry... I've never cried when my mother abandoned me with Miss Maria. I'm not a cry-baby, but Miss Maria is coming to tell me off...OK, I'm already crying...’No, Miss Maria...I just want to sit here... because I cannot see the blackboard... from the place I'm supposed to be sitting, I'm sorry, I didn't do anything...please, don't call my parents, I promise I'll go back to my place...PLEASE, don't call my parents, they'll be upset with me!
Nice! The horses are disappearing. Apparently, she understood everything! Marcela is sitting behind me... but I'm having a note to my parents. What does it say? That's why I want to learn how to read. I don't like not knowing if I've done something wrong. What's the note about?
My parents are coming with me to school. Miss Maria asked us to copy some words from our book, while she speaks with my parents... I’ll finish in a hurry to go and see what is happening outside... "Mi mamá me ama, mi mamá me mima, mi mamá amasa la masa"... Ready! Now I want to know what they are talking about! Oops, my parents’ faces are not so good. What have I done wrong? If she understood everything yesterday, why is it that my parents are looking at me as if I were about to die?
We are at a doctor's office now. Am I sick? I don't feel anything. In fact I'm feeling quite good. Why am I here? No, doctor, I don't know how to read yet, I cannot learn anything because I'm sitting at the back. Oh, but I know that drawing! It is an "A", yes, and that other in an "E"...Mom I know how to read! I already know how to read! It’s great, isn’t it?... But the tiny ones are blurred. I cannot see them. I'm sorry, I'm a complete ignorant... Glasses? No, I don't need glasses, no doctor, I don’t want them!... OK mummy, don’t be upset. I’ll try them on... Oh! I can see the tiny ones now. Yes doctor, I can see perfectly well. That's a "P" which is my name's initial, and an "M" like the one I need to write "Mamá". Thank you doctor, it didn't hurt.
I'm happy now. I'm the only one in my classroom with glasses. I'm special. I can sit at the back without problems.
Marcela, you've been a mean person. Stay in your ugly place, I don't like it anymore. You are mean and I'm special. I have glasses and you don't.

Four Funerals and a Wedding

2007-10-01T08:10:00.000-03:00

I've been blessed in my life in many ways, but the one I'm more amazed about, is the little amount of important loses that I've suffered.
Four funerals and a wedding may seem a satire to the title of Hugh Grant's movie, but it's not. That's the real amount of important events that I experienced in the last eleven years.
In 1996, My father's mother died after suffering for three months due to an intra-hospital virus. Everything started on March, 3rd, a day before her 51st wedding anniversary. She went to her living room to put the China on the table, because she wanted to have a perfect celebration the next day, but on her way through the long corridor of the old train-like house, she missed a step and fell down breaking her hips.
Her wedding anniversary was beyond her expectancies. She spent it hospitalized. But with the whole family around her. Some days later, she went on surgery to try to fix her broken bones, and it seemed to be perfect. She was sent to her house, and the doctor advised her to start walking as soon as possible. She tried. She walked in pain for a week, until my mother and my father's sister realized that something was wrong with her injury. She was admitted again in the same private hospital, but the doctors discovered that she had a serious infection, and they had to remove the gadget that was implanted in her hips to help her walk again.
From then on, everything went down, she never went back home, she only travelled from I.C.U to a common room and back. On June, 24Th 1996, after a strange dream I had in which she cried to me asking for relief, at 1 p.m. she died in peace.
On February 5Th, 2000, I got married. Against everyone's predictions and expectations, I got pregnant and neither my parents, nor my husband's parents could refuse the idea anymore. They agreed on the decision we'd taken eight months before, when we secretly got engaged. My life was great, I was in love, I was pregnant, I was finally getting married. I would stop lying to my parents in order to have a moment with my boyfriend. I would have the freedom of sleeping whole nights, end enjoy my sleeping without worrying about arriving home before 5 a.m. I would sleep with him...not only serve the natural needs. I was absolutely happy, until the wicked witch (known as my husband's mother) started spreading her intrigues. Anyway, that's subject for another entry.
On December 26Th, 2001, after celebrating Christmas with my in-laws at their house in the countryside, and due to the big crash in economy some weeks before, my beloved father-in-law left us alone in this earthly world. The news knocked me, because he was the fresh air I needed every time I went to their house. He received me as the daughter he never had. He was constantly thinking about my welfare and my son's. In fact, some days before he died, he was thinking about buying me a car "to avoid the risks of handling with my son in buses." He was also my husband's pillar. They used to go hunting and fishing together since my husband was five. They had a close-knit relationship. They felt at ease when they were together. My father in law was human, he was full of flaws, but no one can deny that he was a great man, extremely generous and always thinking about others. I've never seen such a long line of cars accompanying a coffin. The worst part is that I had to carry out with the organization of most of the things when he died. My husband's mother was shocked, as well as her two sons, and nobody in the family was willing to. I still miss him, especially in the countryside house where I saw him alive for the last time. That's one of the reasons why I don't go there as often as my husband wishes. He was 49, and died from a heart attack.
On August 12Th, 2002, I didn't have a funeral for the baby I lost, because it was on its early stages, but I knew it was alive when they showed me the fetus' heart beating in the same study where my doctor said it was an ectopic pregnancy, and I needed urgent surgery to remove it.
The third funeral was my mother's father. To tell you the truth, I don't remember the date. He was old, he was not my grandfather, he was just my mother's father. I never had a grandpa-grand daughter relationship with him. In fact, some time after his death, I heard that my mother's mother told one of her friends that "I stood at the door looking at his dead body as if I were looking at a dead dog." My first thought was: "She has to be kidding!" but then a strong anger appeared. I didn't know that man when he was alive, I was there because of my mother. When I had the chance to meet him, he was flying on a distant star because of his hydrocephalus disease! He didn't know me! However, I'm not a monster, I'm just reluctant to see dead bodies. I went there because of my mother. I accept that I didn't spill a tear for him. I didn't know that man. But I never looked at him as she thought.
The last funeral was on October 2nd, 2006. Our Lola Mora's Headmaster died out of the blue. He was a doctor and I still wonder why on earth he couldn't cure himself as he may have done with others. I remember that I used to think that he was too serious. I used to believe that he was unreachable. In time I understood that he was a great man. He was the one who supported Jesi and me when we were preparing Halloween in 2005. Against all odds, he encouraged us to continue with our project without paying attention to the stones we had on our way. He was the strong figure that we knew the very first day of classes walking through our school's long corridors. He was the one who showed me his pride when he learnt that Jesi and me were presenting a lecture in a conference. He was the one that treated Jesi and me as if we were special. He used to make jokes to Jesi and me. He was the one who let us waiting for him forever. I regret now because I didn't want to bother him when he was hospitalized. I really wanted to see him and tell him that for me he was my "uncle Albert," that I was so happy of having met him, that he was the perfect driver for the big Lola Mora Airplane.
Uncle Albert, you were my last big loss, and sometimes I find myself looking through our classroom window, as if I were waiting to see you walking and smiling at me as you used to.
The pain will go in time. At this moment, I still spill a tear when I stop in my everyday rush, and reflect on the ones that are not with me anymore.
Hoping that all of you are better where you are, once again...GOOD BYE!

Impotence

2007-09-27T00:06:00.000-03:00

I don't have a different word to refer to my state of mind. I feel impotent towards some people's actions. Today, after three months of having resigned to my position as English teacher, I learnt about some negative comments that my former bosses have been spreading.

The school's owner out of ignorance, stupidity or who knows, gave the order of not calling me never again. Not even for one day.

After listening astonished to the person that was telling me this, I stayed in shock. For a micro second, I wanted to hit a pair of women. I couldn't believe that they were that bitchy. That pair of witches. I'm so stupid!

I'm so naive in terms of jobs, that I never thought about the truth behind their threats. One of them told me very serious that I should think what I was doing, that I would regret it in the future. I never thought that she would be as mean as to close another door for me. She knew me since I was 13! She knew me for more than half of my life! How could she!

I'm thinking about talking to the school's owner, but just talk to her. At this point, I don't want to discuss anything, I don't want a debate. They were criminals, they should be grateful that I resigned and never consider the possibility of making a bigger mess in the Education Secretariat.

Now I wonder why this is happening to me. Why is it that I have to deal with all this before I even get my degree? Why didn't they ignore me? Why do they keep on trying to destroy my image? Why is it that I'm so important for them? I've just chosen not to go on with their bad movements. I preferred stepping away, silently, without saying anything, just preserving my integrity.

Please, I need someone to explain their attitudes, so I can understand why is it that they are being so mean to me. Please God, give me the strength to keep on living as I live, without trading my values for a monthly payment, without gifting my possibility to keep on sleeping well, with a clean conscience and with the pride of knowing that I've never done anything wrong.

Good bye blog assignment

2007-09-26T08:24:00.000-03:00

Last night my classmates and me received the great news of being relieved from completing our daily blog assignments. At that moment, I felt a huge happiness due to the fact that I had already fulfilled the minimum number of entries. However, when I got up today, and turned on my laptop while preparing breakfast as usual, a strong nostalgic feeling hit me.

After giving it some minutes of reflection, I discovered that even when the compulsory aspect disappeared, my inner need of writing didn't sink with it.

At this point, I'm in love with my blog. I have put so much of me on it, that I don't really know if I will be able to abandon it. I've spent long hours trying to change its layout, its template, the colours, music, etc and I'm not so sure about leaving it aside that easily.

Who knows, maybe I don't write daily entries, maybe I let it rest for a while, or maybe I keep on writing randomly...who knows...only time will tell.

At this moment, I have to thank my teacher for being so considerate with us by stop pressuring with this, but I also have to thank him because he woke in almost all of us that sleeping writer that lies within.

Last class was the kind of class that I enjoy. Even when my writing was a natural disaster, I felt really happy of being corrected. The relaxed way in which he conducted it, was exactly what I was talking about on my previous entries. I felt overwhelmed. I finally enjoyed my English Language IV class. I felt that I was learning significatively. I'm happy. I don't have much to say because happiness sums up my feelings at this moment.

Thank you C! Last night, maybe without noticing it, you have pulled down the huge iron wall that lied between us. I'll be grateful for ever.

THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!

A curse

2007-09-19T10:39:00.000-03:00

"That's the problem when you are a natural organizer, everyone tends to relax and wait until you have everything done." This was one of my teachers' reaction yesterday, when I told her about the anger and impotence I felt towards some people in our institute.
The thing is that since nobody was moving a finger about our graduation dinner, a pair of classmates and me started looking for a place. We spent almost the whole week coming and going from one place to the other, feeling helpless when someone answered "we don't have any available service until February," or "everything is already booked for November and December."
Frustration, that was the prevailing feeling among the three of us. Anyway, in the end, we found a pair of nice places. The real problem came when we had to discuss our findings with the students of the other teacher training careers. Last Friday, we walked through our institute corridors speaking about it, explaining which were the services and their respective pros and cons. One group answered that it was really expensive, the other that they didn't like the date, and the last ones, that they wouldn't participate in the dinner party. COME ON! ARE YOU KIDDING US?
My idea of consideration towards other people's work is to give an alternative when I say that I disagree. Disagreement without solutions is just a plain careless attitude.
By Monday, almost everyone agreed, but when I called to check if the date was still available, the person in charge of it, told me that fifteen minutes ago, someone had already paid for it. The only available dates were November 16th and late December.
No doubt, we were in a hurry. Thanks God, when I told everybody the news, they finally agreed on the necessity to decide at the moment. A group of us, including people from the three careers willing to participate went to talk with the person in charge of giving us the money for the booking...and we got it!
On Wednesday afternoon, while I was enjoying the view of Jujuy through my bedroom window, the girl who was in charge of booking called me and gave me the great news that we already had our place on November 16th.
My happiness was indescribable. Everything was on the go. We had a place to celebrate our four years of effort.
Anyway, in the end, I have to recognize that my horizon became clearer much sooner than I thought. After all, being a 'natural organizer' is not that bad...isn't it?

Out of your mind, not out of your body

2007-09-14T11:28:00.000-03:00

http://www.economist.com/science/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9682520

Reading Report 30

Title: Out of your mind, not out of your body
Source: http://www.economist.com/science/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9682520
Date: Aug 23rd 2007

Vocabulary:
Rang out: sound loudly
Concur: To be of the same opinion; agree
Fodder: A consumable, often inferior item or resource that is in demand and usually abundant supply
Rambling: Lengthy and digressive
Dusky: Characterized by little or inadequate light; shadowy
Tenured: appointed for life and not subject to dismissal except for a grave crime
Gyrus: Any of the prominent, rounded, elevated convolutions on the surfaces of the cerebral hemispheres.
Prodded: An incitement; a stimulus
Vault: a strongroom or compartment (often made of steel) for safekeeping of valuables

Summary:
Scientists agreed on the fact that consciousness is a biological thing. According to their researches on the topic, a pair of scientists, have found that consciousness can be inducted by delivering a special amount of electricity to the body. Moreover, it can also be triggered by using virtual reality googles, by which the person being studied has a positive response. This response is measured by the amounts of sweating when they feel threatened in one way or another.

Personal Reaction:
Astral projection is mentioned here, but is not taken into account when they discuss the topic of consciousness. Anyway, I find it interesting to think about the possibility of being in many places at the same time. Not everybody I talk to in relation to this state of consciousness can say that they have had at some point some experience like this. However, there are a few, who agree with me in the fact of having felt at one point as id they were out of their bodies.
In my particular case, it has happened to me that one of my former students asked me why I hadn’t greet her in a restaurant where she was having lunch with her family, and when I answered that I wasn’t there, she started describing my clothes and my hair style. Everything matched with the look I had that day at that particular moment...but I wasn’t there. In my opinion, this is more related to astrology that to any other serious science, and at this point, I believe that we unconsciously ‘travel’ to some other place either when we are extremely sad, or when we feel threatened. This is done, as if our sub-consciousness would be running away in order to protect our soul. If this is true or not, I don’t know, but it’s interesting to learn that some studies are being done in order to explain some weird facts which can affect our daily lives.

Sex, shopping and thinking pink

2007-09-14T10:03:00.000-03:00

http://www.economist.com/science/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9682588

Reading Report 29

Title: Sex, shopping and thinking pink
Source: http://www.economist.com/science/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9682588
Date: Aug 23rd 2007

Vocabulary:
Bargain: An agreement between parties fixing obligations that each promises to carry out.
Gathering: The collecting of food that grows wild, such as berries, roots, and grains
Merry: Full of high-spirited gaiety; jolly
Stalls: A booth, cubicle, or stand used by a vendor, as at a market
Deviation: Statistics The difference, especially the absolute difference, between one number in a set and the mean of the set
Hues: The property of colors by which they can be perceived as ranging from red through yellow, green, and blue, as determined by the dominant wavelength of the light
Binary: Characterized by or consisting of two parts or components; twofold
Pliable: Easily influenced, persuaded, or swayed; tractable

Summary:
Based on similar studies conducted by two different groups of researchers, it has been proved that women are better at remembering special places than men. These discoverings were based in both genders ancestral capacities to hunt and to gather food. When women are specially gifted about remembering food stalls, men are more practical in remembering the way to go to some place or another.

Personal Reaction:
It’s interesting to see how great scientists spend money and time, to say the least, in doing research about frugal things. Instead of being using the resources in finding the cure for a mass-killer disease, they waste everything trying to solve the mystery of Who is quicker in finding food?. Come on, we need greater things to be done, how can you burn money and human resources on such stupid issues!

A living mess

2007-09-07T08:29:00.000-03:00

I'm a mess today. I don't know how to explain this twisted state of mind, but I'm full of feelings. I'm afraid, I'm nervous. I just want to quit. But quitting means treason.
I've been upset and anguished for a long time. However, it was today when I couldn't manage things. I couldn't control myself. I spoke in a rude way to one of my classmates, and even to one of my teachers. I was so far away from politeness. And I'm sorry. Were was my controller?
I really fight everyday against my big flaws. But on days like this, I really don't know how to handle everything. I've just escaped from one of my classes. The space was becoming so limited, my teacher's voice started to fade, and I was lost. I just wanted to cry. Desperately. But tears refused to appear.
I don't like being myself today.
Everyday I come to school wishing I were somewhere else.
I'm so tired.
I've lost so many things to reach to this point, and the only thing I want is to run. I just want to run nonstop.
"You are not so concentrated today", he said. "No", I replied. "OK", he concluded. The only thing he cared about was his class. I was not being myself. I'm a mess. And he only cared about my disturbance in the class. We all have bad days, we are all human beings. Please switch off your teacher's alarm for a moment. Put away that mask. Help us to enjoy. Show us the way. We are all adults, but we are also a sensitive group. We need to be embraced with caring attitudes. I urgently need someone to tell me I'm not useless. I need someone to refute my thesis statement, as convincing as to make me change my mind.
Help me. I'm feeling at the edge of falling down into a black hole.
My classmates are my pillars, but today I'm feeling lonely. Having my pillars is not helping me. I don't know exactly what I need, however, I know I need something, right now.
I'm sorry again. I don't like feeling this way. I know that what I need is inside me, but I cannot find the strength to look for it. Help me. Help me in my encounter with a more positive view of my future.
I don't like being myself today. I know I'm wasting time. I should be enjoying the moment as I enjoyed my fifth year at secondary school. I can't do it. What's more, at this point of desperation, one feeling is added: FEAR, the same one I've always felt when I knew for sure that I would regret about not having enjoyed something. This moment will disappear, and I really need to enjoy it now while I'm living, when I'm healthy, and when I have time to do it.

Untitled

2007-09-07T08:08:00.000-03:00

Sadness.
Anguish.
I feel the emptyness as a roaring tiger.
Missing things,
Missing people,
Deceiving myself.
Self betrayal.
Unfulfilled expectations.
Too many things left behind,
Too many people abandoned,
Everything for my own sake.
And now this hole.
This infinite black space.
It's too much,
It's just too much.
Every day is a burden,
Every hour is a different fight,
Against my will,
Against my fears.
At this point words are not enough.
I'm on a rollercoaster.
I want to get down,
from this never ending trip...
Just one step away,
Everything is different.
Every face becomes unknown.
Years devoted to try,
Try harder,
and try over and over again.
I'm just one step away from the finishing line,
And I wonder,
What will I find
When my moment comes,
And I have to jump from the cliff.

Is the good life killing you?

2007-09-05T11:38:00.000-03:00

http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/the_way_we_live/article2287520.ece

Reading Report 28

Title: Is the good life killing you?
Source: http://women.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/women/the_way_we_live/article2287520.ece
Date: August 26, 2007

Vocabulary:
Booze: to drink alcohol, esp. to excess
Sloth: habitual disinclination to exertion; indolence; laziness
Womb: the uterus of the human female and certain higher mammals
Lavish: using or giving in great amounts; prodigal
Gooey: like or covered with goo; sticky; viscid
Foodie: a person keenly interested in food, esp. in eating or cooking
Scoff: an expression of mockery, derision, doubt, or derisive scorn
Tipple: to drink (intoxicating liquor), esp. repeatedly, in small quantities
Teetotallers: One who abstains completely from alcoholic beverages
Chute: an inclined channel, as a trough, tube, or shaft, for conveying water, grain, coal, etc., to a lower level.
Smear: to spread or daub (an oily, greasy, viscous, or wet substance) on or over something

Summary:
This article is a detailed description of all the things we may do every day which are potentially dangerous for our health.
It starts with a close relationship between food, obesity and cancer, then goes on with alcohol, sloth, sun, and sex. The more you do in your life, the higher your possibilities to suffer from many types of cancer.

Personal Reaction:
My personal reaction might be explained in many words. However, I was so upset for such pesimistic point of view, that I really wanted to kill the writer.
If we had to take into account every single thing which is mentioned here, my friends and me should be dead by now. Come on! We might die even while walking, and this doesn’t mean that we are not going to walk anymore. We might slip in our bathtub and die of five shots in our head, but this doesn’t mean that we are not going to take a bath anymore. I really hate this type of articles, as well as those e-mailing chains warning us about all the dreadful things we might suffer if we just decide to live our lives.
At the moment, I prefer not to write anymore, just in case I suffer from a finger cancer for typing too much.

The maladies of affluence

2007-09-05T11:10:00.000-03:00

http://www.economist.com/world/international/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9616897

Reading Report 27

Title: The maladies of affluence
Source: http://www.economist.com/world/international/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9616897
Date: Aug 9th 2007

Vocabulary:
Maladies: any disorder or disease of the body, esp. one that is chronic or deepseated
Heapes: A group of things placed or thrown, one on top of the other
Lurid: gruesome; horrible; revolting
Ailments: A physical or mental disorder, especially a mild illness
Bears down: to press or weigh down
Endowment: Funds or property donated to an institution, individual, or group as a source of income
Levelled off: to become stable; reach a constant or limit
Swiggers: to drink heartily or greedily
Inoculate: to implant (a disease agent or antigen) in a person, animal, or plant to produce a disease for study or to stimulate disease resistance

Summary:
Since the 1600s rich countries have been infecting poor ones. From the times of colonisation, poor countries have been suffering from different diseases which were brought by people coming from richer environments.
Chronic diseases kill more people than infectious ones. The heart attack death rate is one example. More people die from heart attacks than some other infectious diseases like HIV/AIDS and malaria put together. However for the last decades, the average life expectancy has been raised from 50 to 65 years of age due to the health care programmes and investments.

Personal Reaction:
I think that in our rushing times we are more likely to have an unhealthy diet. We are becoming accustomed to eating more junk food and faster than ever. We are not taking care of our long term health, which means that we don’t care much about suffering from aheart disease down the line.
I believe that it’s not just a matter of blaming others for our own faults. In other words, I partly agree with the article. It’s true that in the early stages of colonialisation, the newcomers brought many diseases with them which were not part of our systems, but, I don’t think that they can still be blamed for the bad choices we make in our eating habits.
Heart diseases are not taken seriously. The bad part is that it is a silent killer. Most of the people suffering from disbalance in their bodies, don’t realize about it until it is too late. The same happens with diabetes. Diabetic patients don’t know that they suffer from it until they have to follow a strict treatment to manage their problems. Even when they know about it, they seem to be reluctant to take special care of themselves. I know many people who suffer from diabetes, but they just seem not to care much about it. They are grown ups behaving as childs, hiding themselves to eat sweets or highly dangerous food.
Everything is a matter of attitude. In my personal case, I’m overweight, and I know that it is quite unhealthy, but whenever I’m asked for a blood test, doctor find that I’m a perfectly healthy fat girl. My levels in everything are near the lower numbers in the scales of health. That is why they are all the time asking me why is it that I don’t lose weight. The answer is as simple as painful. I hate exercising.

Meanness

2007-09-04T12:22:00.000-03:00

I used to think that families fighting over money was something that happened to others. Nowadays, I have to recognize that it's a disease that has recently touched mine.
Some years ago, my father's father lost his sight. At the beginning we thought he was not completely blind, because he could manage to do some things which required sight. Out of his blindness, he started to behave in a violent way. At that moment, his doctors recommended giving him some pills to calm him. My aunt refused categorically. Then, my father and my uncle suggested to bring him to a place where he could receive the special attention he needed, but my aunt refused again, and offered herself to look after him.
Things were good, until the house where my grandfather used to live was sold last year. The money they got for the sale, was divided into four equal parts, one for the father, one for each brother, and one for the sister. When they made such division, my father agreed with his siblings to leave my grandfather's part untouched, until they decide to admit him in a good resting place which might demand more money than the full amount of his pension.
This agreement was great. My grandfather was still living with my aunt, and nobody complained about it.
Out of greed, nonsense, or whatever reason I don't care much at this point, my aunt came one day this year, gathered her brothers, and informed them that she had spent all her money, plus my grandfather's money. My uncle wanted to kill her, because he was counting with that money for the moment his father passes away. My father was shocked, and started worrying about his father's future.
When I learnt about this woman's deed, I told my mother that from then on, was a matter of time the moment in which her father would become an impossible burden in her life.
Sadly, only four months have passed, and last weekend my father's sister called him to say that she is suffering high blood pressure and she cannot have her father with her anymore. What's worse, my aunt said that my grandfather should be put in an institution here in Tucumán (she lives in Santiago del Estero) because she is moving to Buenos Aires to live with her oldest son.
Are you kidding me? How can you be such an awful person? My God!
She spent every single cent of my grandfather's fund, and now she simply flees?
The worst part is that my father is the only one who succeeded in having a life, which is why, as always happens, the one who never bothered others, the self-sufficient one, is that who has to take care of everything when things go wrong.
At this point, I only hope that my father's health is not put into any type of risk, or else, I don't know what am I capable of doing.
I've been taught that whenever I choose to do something or not do anything, I have to be responsible enough as to carry on with the unseen consequences that all that may have. That is why I don't understand this woman's reaction. What's more, I cannot understand why she sends me messages saying that her house's doors are fully opened for me if she is being such a bitch with my father, and was worse with me last year in relation to other issues which are too long to mention at this moment.
I suffered a lot with my mother's family because of their meanness, that's why I don't care about them, in fact I don't consider them part of my family anymore. Apparently, to avoid being hurt again, I will have to do the same with my father's family. And I wonder why do they have to be like that? Why should I build a shell around my loved ones to protect ourselves? We are family for Christ's sake! Why are you being such a pain in the ass?

A bomb? Are you kidding me?

2007-08-31T10:14:00.000-03:00

I'm amazed about people's lack of consciousness. Yesterday we were in our Language class discussing some issues, and a man entered the room saying that we had to leave the building. They had received a message saying that there was a bomb in our school.
WHAT THE HELL THE TWISTED MIND WHO CALLED WAS THINKING WHEN IT DID SUCH STUPID THING??????
Once more, I proved myself to be a balanced person when something goes wrong. But when I was at home, after kissing my son, who was already sleeping, I started shivering, and my heart wanted to jump out from my chest in despair.
I have to recognize that at the moment in which we were asked to leave the building, I only cared for one of my closest friends to be calmed. I didn't want to loose her in the crowd, because I knew that she was shocked.
This was the first time in my 28 years in which something like this happens to me. Of course I have heard many times about practical jokes like this, which were done in some institutions. However, since we are among adults, I couldn't believe people's stupidity. The news of a bomb threat came to us when the building was almost empty. We are in a wing which is almost forgotten. So, if the bomb really existed, I wouldn't be here writing at this moment.
I wonder how can someone be as careless as to threat people in this way.
When I decided to start writing about this, I was quite upset, my nose was bleeding out of rage. I couldn't understand anything. I was too upset to think in my own health. I felt impotence at its highest rate, I wanted to find someone responsible for all this, and punch his or her in the face.
Now I'm calmer. However, I still cannot understand the situation, and this is not good for me. I always look for understanding everything, even when I do not accept it... I need to understand, I need a rational answer for everything that happens (or not) to me and to the ones I care for.
Does anyone have an answer? I would be quite thankful if someone explains all this in a reasonable way.

Finally...I passed

2007-08-30T09:38:00.000-03:00

I passed my Language exam, and of course, I'm happy about it. Even when I didn't consider the possibility of passing, I never lost faith. I believe only three of us passed it.
I felt at ease, but I also felt anxiety again. I have studied. I have studied the four units of our course book. The vocabulary and the grammar. I even made a list of words and idioms on a special notebook. I studied a lot. I passed my language exam. I still cannot believe it.
The bad part is that I will have to sit for a final exam on December. Exactly what I didn't want to do. The idea of having my whole family and friends knowing that I'm going to sit for the last exam to have my teacher's degree, is like a lot of pressure on my shoulders. I really hope this pressure doesn't become a mountain on my way. I hope this pressure vanishes from now until the day I have to sit for my final examination. I'm full of hope. I wish I finish my examination with a nice 'congratulations colleague' from the exam board.
I'm already dreaming about that day. I'm having awful nightmares as well. I hope this becomes one of those things you laugh at when you recall them.
The ultimate happiness would be that all of my classmates sitting for the same exam also pass it. We will be partying without end.
I really, truly hope that every stone on our way vanishes, or at least gives us the chance to pass it through. I believe that our effort will be rewarded in the end.
By now, having received a "Good discussion Patricia" as feedback for my essay writing is like the hand I needed on my shoulder to encourage me to go on. Those three simple words meant the world to me. It was the satisfaction of finally doing something good. They were an open door that leads me to keep on improving myself. Even when they were only three words, only twenty letters...they were more motivating than if my teacher would have written something more elaborated. I don't expect more from him. He is a great teacher, but I still believe that I'm a pain in the neck for him, that he doesn't like me at all. However, I know for sure that I will be absolutely certain that he will never gift me a passing mark. If I have one, it's because of my effort, it's because I have earned a passing mark.
I don't deny that I would like that we could build a bond that unifies us in a close teacher-students relationship, but in time I have learnt that not all of my teachers can do it. I mean, I don't want us to become friends, but at least feel the freedom of being comfortable in our classes. I don't know why, but whenever he crosses our classroom threshold, my affective filter is higher, as well as my anxiety.
I wish this can change before we finish our classes, if not, it was a pleasure having met such a great teacher. Thank you for pushing me hard enough as to help me become the best English teacher I can.

August - Just a windy month?

2007-08-27T12:47:00.000-03:00

There's an old urban legends which says that August takes some lives away. I've always laughed at this, but this year the legend is being frighteningly near some relatives.
Last week was a different week. On Sunday I realized that my son had chickenpox. I was quite worried, sad and desperate because I'm not accustomed to have my son sick. He is a healthy boy who only got minimum flues and some coughing from time to time. So, having him with blisters all over his body, and even worst, in his throat, it was pretty unbearable for me. I didn't know what to do to help him feel better, he wouldn't eat anything because of the pain, but he was hungry anyway. I was helpless. I bought him some yogurt, and part of the problem was solved.
By Thursday, my husband's mother called him to say that a healthy relative had just passed away. We stayed puzzled. The woman who died, was not one of my favourite relatives from my husband's side, but she was a person, a healthy person. Why should she die? And more important, why should she die out of the blue? Without notice, without being sick, out of the blue. She started feeling a strong stomachache a week before, and the doctor advised her to have some medicines. She took the medicines and started a healthy diet. At 4 a.m. on Thursday, she told her husband that she was suffering a splitting headache, and by the time her husband went to look for the car keys to take her to the hospital, she lost consciousness.
The weird thing is that the whole family was expecting the husband to pass away, because of his diabetes and the problems he has had for not being careful enough with his health.
Anyway, by Friday, my husband went on a minor surgery from one of his toes. So, instead of having one Leo male sick, I had TWO. Leo males are quite demanding when they are sick. They tend to be extremely attached to their mothers, which meant that I had my husband's mother more often than I wished. What's worse, I had my husband's mother 'suggesting' ways of treatment for her son and her grandson. My God! I thank everyday for the patience I have. If not, I would have sent her to hell and I would probably have had many quarrels with my husband.
Of course, I didn't go to school on Friday, but one of my friends sent me a message asking about my family's health and told me about one of her friends' father who had died that day.
For this series of unfortunate events, I started wondering about the urban legend that I've always heard from old women about this strange characteristic of August. Is it true, or just a weird coincidence? As i said, I've always laughed at this and every urban legend, but this year I decided to doubt, and not be one hundred percent certain of the non-existance of such possibility.

The Arctic - Drawing lines in melting ice

2007-08-27T12:43:00.000-03:00

http://www.economist.com/world/international/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9660012

Reading Report 26

Title: The Arctic - Drawing lines in melting ice
Source: http://www.economist.com/world/international/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9660012
Date: Aug 16th 2007

Vocabulary:
Swathe: an enveloping bandage
Seabed: The floor of the sea or the ocean
Icebound: obstructed or shut off by ice
Foray: a quick raid, usually for the purpose of taking plunder
Cacophony: a discordant and meaningless mixture of sounds
Trodden: to set down the foot or feet in walking
Hobbled: to impede; hamper the progress of
Preclude: to prevent the presence, existence, or occurrence of; make impossible
Retorts: To reply, especially to answer in a quick, caustic, or witty manner
Tiff: a slight fit of annoyance, bad mood, or the like
Gravel: small stones and pebbles, or a mixture of these with sand
Intractability: not easily controlled or directed; not docile or manageable

Summary:
The Artic is becoming a fashionable destination for tourism. The problem comes when the different countries want to gain possession over it. It is well known the richness of this region, but thanks to the soil’s intractability, this remains safe from exploitation. Nevertheless, day by day The Artic is melting down, which would make possible for the fishing industry to go deeper, and make it a profitable area due to its many resources.

Personal Reaction:
It’s a quite sad image the one that shows a humongous greed over the planet’s virgin soil. Sometimes I cannot believe the way in which the different countries go to war over a piece of land, over its richness. Greed is a capital sin. I wonder why it has become a common disease nowadays.
Sadly enough, I believe that some day in this race of conquer, the biggest countries will end up destroying some parts of the planet for the sake of their own interests. The part that they won’t be able to set their flags on, will be destroyed to avoid someone else’s ownership. I hope the already mentioned greed doesn’t end up killing the beautiful place in which we are living.
Also by exploiting virgin soil, I think we are running out our own resources for future generations. This is closely related to the fact that these countries are drying out all their reservoirs which feed them, and they’ll only realise about the huge damage when it’s too late to revert such consequences.

Adiós to poverty, hola to consumption

2007-08-25T00:56:00.000-03:00

http://www.economist.com/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9645142#top

Reading Report 25

Title: Adiós to poverty, hola to consumption
Source: http://www.economist.com/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9645142#top
Date: Aug 16th 2007

Vocabulary:
Winding: bending or turning; sinuous
Depots: A warehouse or storehouse
Amid: in the middle of; surrounded by; among
Grinding: To shape, sharpen, or refine with friction
Ubiquitous: existing or being everywhere, esp. at the same time; omnipresent
Ply: a unit of yarn
Plethora: overabundance; excess
Nadir: the lowest point; point of greatest adversity or despair
Remittances: The sending of money to someone at a distance
Abjured: to avoid or shun
Clawed: To scratch, dig, tear, or pull with or as if with claws

Summary:
During the last years, Latin American governments have maintained an average stability which allowed a big amount of poor people to improve their lifestyle. These people have reached a new level among social classes, broadening the circle which embraces a middle class community. Those who are now part of this middle class society are the ones who spend more money consuming goods. The sad part is that in the same way, lot of people suffered a top-down change by becoming poor. In Latin American countries the main problem resides in the incredible fragility of the economic system.

Personal Reaction:
I don’t know quite much where lays the dividing line between middle class and poor people. In my particular case, my husband has a great salary, I think. We can live our lives worrying less than others about reaching to the end of each month. If needed, we can borrow some money, knowing that we will be able to give it back in short time. We have our own house and van, which also is more than the average expected. Among the people we know, none of them being our age have neither the things we already have, nor the possibility of having them soon. In fact, even when my husband doesn’t have such positive perspective, he is free to go hunting and fishing every other weekend, or several times a year. What’s more, I can also decide going to seminars in other provinces without doubting if we would have the means or not. Of course, I agree on the aspect of living in a time of high consumerism, but if you don’t take advantage of the possibilities you may have, what’s the sense in saving forever and ever, by depriving your family and yourself of things that, urgently needed or not, provoke some kind of pleasure which is priceless.

Are We Failing Our Geniuses?

2007-08-24T01:18:00.000-03:00

http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1653653,00.html

Reading Report 24

Title: Are We Failing Our Geniuses?
Source: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1653653,00.html
Date: Thursday, Aug. 16, 2007

Vocabulary:
Stringing: to connect in or as in a line; arrange in a series or succession
Witty: possessing wit in speech or writing; amusingly clever in perception and expression
Squandering: To fail to take advantage of; lose a chance for
Tabulated: to put or arrange in a tabular, systematic, or condensed form
Battered: damaged especially by hard usage
Acuity: sharpness; acuteness; keenness
Aloof: reserved or reticent; indifferent; disinterested
Akin: Having a similar quality or character; analogous
Unbidden: Not invited, asked, or requested; unasked
Peremptory: leaving no opportunity for denial or refusal; imperative
Promontory: a prominent or protuberant part
Cliquish: associating exclusively with the members of one's own clique; clannish.
Traits: A genetically determined characteristic or condition
Pitfalls: An unapparent source of trouble or danger; a hidden hazard
Chafed: to irritate; annoy

Summary:
This article is about gifted students whose IQ tests are higher than average. It criticizes the way in which schools do not allow gifted students to skip courses. In this article, we can also find a contrast between the amounts of money spent on below standard students, and on highly gifted ones. It says that the programme “No child left behind” is actually doing a lot of harm on those who need to skip courses.
Gifted students in the U.S. have the possibility to attend a school especially created for them, in which the curriculum is divided into three levels, instead of the many courses regular schools have. Anyway, it has been argued that in this way, those students are still being isolated; they are still being treated in a different way which is not completely healthy for them.

Personal Reaction:
I’m not quite sure about the reason, but I have always felt pity on little geniuses. Maybe it’s because they are almost one hundred percent of the times living in environments in which they are not at ease. It’s as if they could never find the perfect place in which they can feel comfortable.
I remember when I was a child; I truly wanted to be different, more intelligent than the rest, to know more, and to be able to pass my courses without much studying. This wishes lasted until one day I came across with an article which described gifted children as potentially crazy people, with a great tendency towards having some kind of mental disorder.
I think that we are all different in a way or another, but being that different must be a real burden in someone’s life. It seems that there are opposite realities between those who are really smart, and those who are gifted at some sport or artistically. The first ones have a higher risk to suffer from discrimination. The last ones have greater opportunities to shine.

Reaction Paper on Jaim Etcheverry's presentation

2007-08-23T09:48:00.001-03:00

We were undeniably there - From left to right: Patricia Romano, Jesica Suparo, Carlos Lizárraga and Raquel Soria

When Dr Jaim Etcheverry started his presentation, I felt at ease. The pace of his talking and the rhythm of his voice were captivating. From the beginning to its end, the talk was great. He said things that caught my attention, and some others in which I couldn't agree more.

When he said he would start with a parable, I thought he was going to do something like a mass, where the priest starts reading something from the bible, and then comes the whole sermon. However, I was nicely surprised when I realized that he had changed the parable to make it fit in the main topic of his lecture.

With this parable, I remembered all the things that we have been learning in some of our subjects at teacher training college. Lesson plans, projects, contents, etc were all known to me, but in his words, they sound like a real burden for the teaching practise.

My classmates and me were the youngest people in the audience, which left me with a big question mark in front of my face. I started wondering about the big amount of people who would have been benefited for such incredible, real, and rough comments on Argentinean education system.

All in all, he didn't say many new things. It was the way in which he said everything that was really shocking. I mean, we all know about the divorce between the institutions of family and school, but it's like one of those secrets that everyone knows, although no one does anything or even speak about it.

Personally, seeing education as a way to dimension our own possibilities, was adding one good aspect of it in my life. In other words, for me education is essentially needed and I have never considered it in the way Dr Jaim Etcheverry put it.

I couldn't agree more with the fact that schools have become an accreditation agency, in fact, this was the main reason why I resigned my job two months ago. I tested my students' knowledge and put them the marks that they deserved. In some particular cases, I decided to gift them an opportunity by not giving them the absolute failing mark. Anyway, the head of the English department, in alliance with the school's principal, decided to change almost 80% of the marks of the two courses in which I was in charge. The worst part is that I found out about this criminal act, because of my students' naiveness when they thanked me for giving them a passing mark on their reports even when they had a plain one in the two tests they did.

Another shocking thing is the realization of a black future without education. The fact that we won't be able to live our lives in a safe environment due to others' ignorance and fearless attitude is anguishing. As I always say, my biggest worry is related to the world in which my son will have to live. It's not only caring and being concerned about our future, it's pre-occupying, and actually doing something, for the sake of those younger than us.

It was a great talk. In fact once more, we as a group at teacher training college, have been using our power to ask for more useful education. For example, yesterday we gave one of our teachers some suggestions in relation to a subject that we have during this term. We asked for a better quality in the material used, in this way we will improve our knowledge.

Although Dr Jaim Etcheverry said that he prefers to be quite optimistic regarding our future. At some point I see educational improvement as nothing different from an idealistic utopia. On one hand, because of governments' lack of interest on the topic, and family's tendency to be on the fast lane. On the other hand, because if we want to change the system as it is, we have to start by modifying people's minds. Education takes time, and sadly enough, day by day we find less people willing to accept those conditions. I tried to stand against the system, and the system ended up closing one of its doors to me.

Guillermo Jaim Etcheverry's lecture

2007-08-22T12:42:00.000-03:00

Dr. Guillermo Jaim Etcheverry is a doctor who has written a book called "La tragedia Educativa", and who has devoted his life to teaching and to neurobiology investigation.

We went to one of his talks about the Argentinean educational situation yesterday, and he started it with a very funny parable, which says something like this:
"In those times, Jesus came to the mountain, sat on a stone, and let his disciples and followers approach him; 'Happy those who are hungry and thirsty of justice, the merciful, the chased because of justice...'That was when Pedro interrupted him to say: 'Do we have to learn it by heart?'; and Andrés said: 'Do we have to write it down?'; and Santiago said: 'Are you going to test us with that?'; and Tomás said: Do we have to write a monograph?'; and Marcos said: 'And what is this useful for?'. So one of the followers present there, inquired Jesus about his lesson plan, and in front of the master's amazement, he queried in these terms: 'What's the name of your classroom project?; Which are the strategies?; Which are the conceptual, attitudinal, and proceeding contents?; Have you given encounter spaces to coordinate transverse actions?.' Jesus eyes were full of tears; he looked towards the sky, and said: 'Father, why is it that you have abandoned me?'

After the laughing of all the audience, Dr. Jaim Etcheverry referred to the need of reflection on the broken bounds between the school and the family, he said that we are experiencing an increasing carelessness towards the teaching process. It seems that there's a fear to teach.
Sadly, he explained, society is influencing the teaching practise, and our society nowadays is embracing the idea of youth as a goal, not a phase, which everyone wants to achieve.

Youth applies to the ones who are chronologically young, nevertheless, the rest is constantly seeking for it. It is said that young people already know everything, which in a way leaves an obsolete mark on education, but we have to reflect on this because we can all agree on the fact that in the technological field they have a greater knowledge. However, we can also agree on the fact that nowadays, a biggest intellectual capacity is required to write something than to handle technology.

We are urged to understand which our responsibility on education is. We have to think that we are putting in the young ones' hands a huge inheritance, which is the whole creativity corpus that we have been leaving to them.

The education is a way to dimension our own possibilities, with a correct education we can answer questions like: What can we do?, What are we good at?. Its acquisition is worldwide admitted to be mainly fruit of our own personal effort, which gives in other words a maths operation as the following:
Personal effort + Teachers = Long term satisfaction.
The problem in this society is that satisfaction is required immediately, which generates a big obstacle to the ones who want to teach.

Nowadays the main goal is to make the learning process something fun. We are losing the real aim of going to school. Students should go to school to be interested, to allow teachers build interest on them, not to have fun.
The problem is that there are no students neither willing nor with a positive attitude to learn, and parents have become allies of their children against school. What's more, secondary school has become a long preparation for their final trip to Bariloche.

This crisis lives within our houses' walls. The school is nowadays only an accreditation agency, in which the conquest of a certificate is the main goal. Both, parents and students only want to have a passing mark in every subject, they don't care about learning. That is why the level of knowledge is decreasing faster than ever before.

There's a decapitalization of knowledge, well backed up by psychological theories which state that knowledge grows faster than the learning process, which is why when students finish studying something, that something is already old.

Even to be a rebel, you have to know. This is not taken into account anymore. If you don't know about the problem, how would you know why or against what are we rebelling to.

Today the teaching practise is rejected because of the asymmetric relationship that this requires. This crisis in knowledge transmission is the basis of the problem. Teacher's authority is biggest than what is thought. The teacher has to be responsible for the world that is being transmitted to the students. So, the teacher should transmit knowledge, but in our modern schools a teacher is only a group entertainer.
The worst part is that not even the ones who are in a position to value their education, are willing to do it. Students, whose parents can aspire to a better education, also hold the already mentioned tendency to find relief by passing the subjects without knowing anything. In fact, those in need are the ones who consider education as a possibility of improvement.

Our Argentinean society is a reluctant society towards rules, and education is essentially a teaching of rules, which is why, our youth is having less knowledge every day.
People who have learnt in the 'old-fashioned way', can easily adapt to the new technologies because of the background knowledge that they have.
Egalitarian democracy is not suitable for all types of institutions. In the family, and at school, you cannot have a democracy, because equality will kill them.

Unfortunately, teachers are baby-sitters. Nowadays, schools are seen as a nursery where parents leave their children to have someone taking care of them. Teachers, of course, are those entitled for such job. The most important goal of going to school has been lost.

Every child has the same possibility to be taught. One of the big problems in our society is related to the exclusion of poor people. This exclusion is not applied to poor people who are still hopeful of finding a way out. This exclusion refers to those who have lost all their possibilities to improve. Sarmiento said: "If you don't want to educate them for charity, at least do it for fear." Some years from now, we will have a society which will be impossible to hold, because we would have created a group of people who have no values. Our life depends on the quality of the ones we have in front of us. If we don't take care of those, we won't be able to live our lives, because we would have created people who have nothing to lose.

We have to give people the elements to think, and to have an approach to reality from different perspectives. No one knows what is going to be used and when, because the education tries to build up every person as complete as possible, plus give them tools to find a way to get a place in society.

If we keep on thinking that today is good, and what was before is useless, we will end up having an empty life, because today we are the past of our future. That is why we have to effort ourselves to construct in the best possible way the future children. We have to save them, and save ourselves from the black future that presupposes having ignorant people around us.

Dream or nighmare?

2007-08-22T12:39:00.000-03:00

I was talking with you, it was a sunny Spring day. We were discussing some important issues regarding the topic that concerns us, world’s education. You asked me to join in a four block’s walk towards your house. Your right hand was holding a little girl’s hand. In a strange way, that little girl’s face was familiar. It reminded me of myself when I was 5 years old. I agreed on your plea, and we started walking side by side. I was by your left side, and after the fifth step…you held my hand.
For a microsecond, my heart stopped, and a freezing feeling traveled through my veins from top to bottom. I kept on walking, speechless looking at an imaginary horizon. What was I doing? I’m married, and you’re not my husband. Am I cheating on him just by letting you hold my hand? What is happening? Why is it that you held my hand in such a tender and synergic way? Is this a symbolism of you willingness to help me go on? Is it that you already know that day by day my unwillingness to continue is becoming stronger? What is this? What am I doing? You’re not like this, you’re a nice guy, but you never show your feelings. Why are you doing it with me? I’m married, and you know it. You have to know it.
The four blocks seemed endless, our first block was endless. Our silence seemed an ocean between us, and your silence was deafening. I decided to continue walking in the same speechless way. I started looking at the people around us. Would anyone recognize me? Would any of these people tell my husband that I was walking hand by hand with another man? What would I say to him? I felt I was the worst cheater in the world, just by not cleaning my hand out of yours. At some point you stopped walking, as if in the previous steps you were trying to find sufficient confidence. You stopped, released your hand from the little girl, and looked at me. You were speechless and I was quite uncomfortable. My feeling of guilt was increasing at gigantic steps. My heart was beating as a steam machine that was about to explode. You didn’t want to look at me, and you seemed embarrassed by something I couldn’t get.
Softly, your warm and tender left hand released mine. I didn’t want to look at you. I started feeling shyness as part of me. My heart had the same butterflies that I used to have in my teenage days. The same butterflies that were coming and going through my stomach. I’m married, I’m married, I’m mar…
Your lips approached mine in the most delicate way. You said “I’m sorry”, but your words were flying in the air, far away from me. I wanted to kiss you back, but I’m married, we are in the middle of the street. What am I doing? Why did you do that? Am I losing my mind? Why are you doing this to me?
Tears caressed my cheeks, and as a contagious disease, your eyes started to show a mist of tears. We stayed there looking at each other in anguish, as if we knew for certain that we were hurting someone else.
Our sad eyes finally encountered in an unbreakable bond, and my only need was to hug you, and have you hugging me back.
In that emotional embrace of souls, as fate decreeing that we would never find each other again, my alarm clock started ringing and I woke up this morning feeling bitterness at its biggest extent.

Cinderella of the 21st Century - Glossary

2007-08-19T21:35:00.000-03:00

Bimbo: Plural Bimboes/Bimbos. Slang. An attractive but stupid young woman, especially one with loose morals
Iniquitous: Characterized by injustice or wickedness
Cinderella: A person or thing of merit, undeservedly neglected or forced into a wretched or obscure existence
Brainy: Intelligent; clever; intellectual
Manolo Blahnik: Famous shoe designer. In the year 2000, the popularity of the HBO TV series Sex And The City makes Manolo Blahnik a household name in the US
Infatuation: A foolish, unreasoning, or extravagant passion or attraction
Stylish: characterized by or conforming to style or the fashionable standard; fashionably elegant; smart or chic
Nerd: Slang. Pejorative applied to anyone with an above-average IQ, who knows what's really important and interesting and doesn't care to be distracted by trivial chatter and silly status games.

Sources:
http://dictionary.reference.com/
http://www.designmuseum.org/design/manolo-blahnik

Cinderella of the 21st Century

2007-08-19T16:36:00.000-03:00

There was once a very busy businessman whose wife, tired of his constant trips, asked him to choose between his family and his traveller miles. The couple divorced after thirteen years of marriage and one beautiful daughter.
The businessman married again two years later. The second wife was a very pretty and shallow woman who already had a pair of bimboes as daughters, who were as pretty and shallow as herself. The businessman’s first daughter, whose custody he gained after a long legal dispute, was a sweet, intelligent and well-educated girl, just like her real mother.
The new wife hated feeling inferior than her stepdaughter, because she was as perfect as to make them look ugly and stupid. So the iniquitous woman gave her the hardest work to do in the house, the flawless girl was ordered to make her stepsisters look smart.
She slept on the floor between the stepsisters’ beds, and after the day’s work was done or the sisters were tired, which generally happened first, she was obliged to sit and watch silly soap-operas at her eyes’ ends. Because of this, the two sisters decided to call her Cinderella.
When Cinderella was 21, she saw her opportunity to run away from the torture she was suffering day after day with the two sisters. She thought about fleeing to a different country in which her father could visit her during one of his trips. Sadly, the stepmother learnt about her intentions, and stole her passport. By this action, this mean woman obstructed Cinders plan to find relief.
The week after the robbery, an invitation to a dance arrived at the house. It was sent to the family, and since neither the stepmother nor the two sisters had learn to read so well yet, Cinders opened and read it. King Charles invited all the important people in the country with their unmarried daughters, because he wanted to find a wife for his older son William.
The sisters couldn’t decide what to wear.
“I’ll wear my Versace’s Pink quilted silk satin, silk georgette with long lace,” said the eldest.
“I’ll wear my Armani’s black viscose evening gown with a sexy open back, and beautifully beaded detail,” said the youngest. “Of course, Cinderella must help us get ready and talk brainy.”
So Cinders worked hard for her stepsisters, rushing to the drycleaner’s, downloading updated information from the internet, and trying to match their dresses with some shoes and jewellery. She even arranged their hairdressers’ appointments for them, and although she was secretly longing to go to the ball herself, she didn’t once complain that she had been left out.
As the sisters left for the royal palace, Cinders sat down in front of her old laptop, and while visiting The History Channel on the web, she began to cry. She had so wanted to go dancing and meet the prince.,,
Suddenly, her mother appeared. She was wearing a Jacky Kennedy’s suit and a beautiful pair of matching-with-the-purse shoes.

...TO BE CONTINUED...

Cinderella of the 21st Century(cont)

2007-08-19T16:30:00.000-03:00

“I’m your mother, what is your wish?” she said.
“If only I could go to the ball,” whispered Cinders. “But I have no dress, no car to take me, and my credit cards have been cancelled.”
“I can arrange that,” replied the mother. And she sent Cinders into the wine cellar to look for the best bottle she could find. The mother made some calls with her cell phone, and instantly a white Rolls Royce appeared. Six unemployed police officers became proud servants to escort her in case someone wanted to abduct her and ask for a reward, and the friendly butler became her chauffeur.
“Oh, but that is wonderful,” gasped Cinders pouring some wine, and serving it to her mother. “But I have nothing to wear!” she said, looking at her torn old blue jeans.
“Nonsense child!” cried the mother. And with another phone call Oscar de la Renta appeared helping Cinders with the most beautiful white crystal embroidered gown with tulle full skirt, and sterling satin ribbon, from his spring 2008 collection. On her feet were the daintiest diamond encrusted sandals you have ever seen, especially delivered by Manolo Blahnik.
“Go and enjoy yourself,” said the mother. “But remember! You must be back before midnight, otherwise all your fine things will be taken away by the entire police force. Everything has been lent you only for a few hours, if you don’t come back, they will think that you want to steal them.
When Cinderella arrived at the palace, there was a sudden hush in the hall. No one knew who this beautiful lady was. Prince William saw her at once, and sent away all the top models that were around him. The music suddenly changed from hip-hop to the sweetest soft melody ever. Prince William asked Cinderella to dance with him, and for the rest of the evening they danced the whole time together, while talking about their preferences in music, art, and many other things.
Just before midnight the guests went to eat at a wonderful feast prepared by the most prestigious cook in the world. The prince was so infatuated with Cinders that he insisted on fetching food for her himself. But as the clock began to strike, Cinders remembered the mother’s warning. With a cry she ran out of the ballroom and disappeared into the night, leaving one of her expensive sandals behind.
The prince was astonished to see her go, and sent someone to find her. However, he stayed shocked wondering what was wrong with him to cause such reaction. The guards at the gate said they had only seen a nudist girl trying to cover her “parts” with some bushes, and the palace servants could only find a diamond encrusted sandal.
So the prince began to search the whole country for this beautiful woman he had fallen in love with. On national television, he announced that he would marry the owner of the stylish sandal. Princesses tried on the sandal and then all the grand ladies in the region. Then all the daughters of rich gentlemen in the town also tried. But none could squeeze their foot into the tiny shoe.
Finally the royal messenger arrived at Cinderella’s home and offered the slipper to the stupid sisters. Neither one could fit it on her foot, in spite of all their pushing and pinching. Cinders then came forward and asked if she might try the sandal on.
“Of course not!” exclaimed her stepmother. “This shoe is not for nerds. Go back to the library where you belong!”
But the royal messenger looked at her carefully. He saw how pretty she was behind the glasses, messy hair, and ragged jeans, and how small her feet were. He gave her the shoe and watched as Cinderella’s foot slipped into it perfectly.
The sisters cried out with jealousy and anger as Cinders brought the other shoe. So that was who the mysterious beautiful woman was…their very own Cinders!
In a magic second, and at a wave of her cell phone, the mother once more gave Cinderella a Beautiful dress, and when she met the prince he immediately asked her to marry him. When Cinders answered a shy “I’ll think about it”, they agreed on start dating first and think about marriage some time later.After a year and a half, Prince William and Grace (Cinderella’s real name) set a date, got married in a luxurious wedding, and lived happily ever after.

- THE END -

(I’ve written this story for a pair of great teachers who honored me by asking for it)

Feeling Proud of myself

2007-08-16T16:51:00.000-03:00

Yeasterday one of my former teachers asked me a favour that even when it requires a lot of work, I'm so proud that she had thought about me for such task.
The idea is that she gave me the original version of the short story "Cinderella", and asked me to write a modern version of it. Can you imagine my proudness? And that's not the end. My version is going to be presented in a lecture next week!
I can't believe it...
Of course this is a great challenge, because I was given an enormous responsibility, but I cannot feel other thing than happiness. I love writing, and I love writing modern and funny versions of old and gloomy things.
I hope her expectations are fulfiled by my job. I've been thinking about some ideas I could include in my writing, and who knows, maybe it becomes a nice piece of work.
With things like this, I start wondering why is it that I experience so many feelings at the same time. On one hand, I cannot pass an exam which was basically writing, and on the other hand, a teacher asks me to write something for her, based on my previous works.
The fact that at least one of my teachers has such a good concept about me, is like a tender caress to my heart. It's like putting a hand on my shoulder to push my soul to go on. As if they were telling me, "Come on! You can do it! You can overcome every obstacle!"
I really wish I can do it as I'm expected to.
I feel honoured...
When I finish writing my new version of "Cinderella" you'll have it posted. Until then, I may disappear (or not) for a few days.

Self boycotting

2007-08-15T17:21:00.000-03:00

During my three years of psychotherapy, my shrink tried and tried to help me avoid this damaging tendency of self-boycotting myself.
At that time, I thought I could overcome such need, but yesterday I realized I didn't. For the last months, I thought that my academic life was great. A lot of hard work which was giving its fruits. However, yesterday I started to think about the unthinkable. I'm not going to get my degree neither when I wanted, nor as I imagined.
I'm having a little tiny stone on my way which is in fact a big mountain for me. Since anxiety has become my worst disease, the idea of not having passed one of my exams is just killing my soul.
I know for sure that I'm wrong. I should take this as it is: just a little tiny stone on my way...but I can't.
I deny the idea of thinking too much about something, because in general terms, everything ends up being something one hundred percent different. But in terms of getting my degree, I think I've been dreaming for a long time. And I shouldn't. This is not due to a high level of negativity in my blood, but because I started to believe in the idea of dealing with things the best way I can at the precise moment in which they happen to me.
I wish I could be different in this aspect, I wish I didn't have this tendency to self-boycotting, but what can I do? Everthing has been so difficult to get, that sometimes I cannot believe that my life is a great gift. I cannot understand why God has given me so many good experiences to be proud of. There's something wrong when the world becomes a perfect rounded circle.
Someone said yesterday, that when you really want something, and you think about it, it is almost certain that you're going to get it...I don't know if I'm completely wrong, but I don't think so. My experience tells me that it's not that easy. It's not only a matter of sending "good energy" and receiving back your wishes accomplished...
I should be a rabbit mum, full of children if that was the case.
I don't know, I don't want to be pesimistic, because I know that my friends are going to tell me off, but I don't know what can I do.
Today my mother was very upset when I told her about my exam. She almost shouted that I was an intelligent person, and I shouldn't be so worried until I have certainty. I don't know...maybe she's right. But my experience writing essays in this subject hasn't been encouraging. Almost every written production that I presented was a failing mark.
Which are my possibilities to pass this exam?...
Almost zero
Time will say.

This is Just to say

2007-08-15T11:35:00.000-03:00

Feeling sick
With aliens in my stomach
I call you
But I don't want to find you
I don't like hurting your feelings
My body is shaking.
I want to see you,
But I don't want you to see me.
And I try to write.
I write endless words in this vicious air,
Surrounded by towels and soap.
I look at the sky trying to find relief.
I breathe,
I take a deep breath...
Speaking is a difficult task.
The mug in my hand spills some tea.
You look at me in amazement,
You wonder what's wrong.
I don't want to hurt your feelings...
I stare at you,
And borrowed words flow aimelessly.
This is just to say...
I don't like your cuisine.

Friend's day

2007-08-11T21:09:00.000-03:00

For many years I've had many possibilities during friend's day to go to parties. I don't know if I'm too old for parties, or my life has turned into a different thing, but I prefer the quietness of having only one possibility to go out.

These year I've decided to enjoy that day with my closest friends from school. They have become my pillars for the last years, and if we are lucky enough, we won't be seeing each other every day next year.

I've been pleased to spend the evening with them. I didn't want anything else. Even when I received other invitations for bigger celebrations, I really wanted to be with them. They are like my little brother and sisters. They are always there for me when I'm about to freak out, and I'm always worrying about their well being. We share a careful concern towards each other. We know for sure that we can find in the other, a willing shoulder to lean on when needed.

We are good friends...

We share many things...

Sometimes we do not agree with each other, but show respect in every step of our way. We are respectful of each other's personal space.

Respectful of personal space...

I've always said that this is the real basis of our friendship, of our brotherhood. We are not invaders or intruders who want to be 100% of the time with the other. We are like one, but without losing our individuality. Each of us has his or her life, his or her duties, his or her need to be alone...and we are respectful. For example, we don't burst into Chezik's place just because she lives near school. If it's not agreed on, or really necessary, we don't go there. I'm the one that has more possibilities to go whenever I want, but I have my house, and that's HER place. Why should I spread my "roots" there and be an interference in her everyday lifestyle?

Of course, we have our differences, but I don't remember having big arguments with any of them. We had our little conflicts, but none of them were as important as to break our bonds.

Once more, thank you my friends!!!!

I'm living this last period of the year with the anxiety you already know, but having you by my side is the relaxing pill that I need. I hope my angst doesn't bother you that much.

Love you!!!

Kisses and hugs

Am I a bizarre alien?

2007-08-09T11:26:00.000-03:00

I don't understand people's need to mix groups in birthdays or similar celebrations. To my great bad luck, my husband is one of those. He is delighted having huge celebrations, with many...many...MANY people.
I've had the opportunity to show him that when you ask too many persons to come to your house, you end up serving everyone, and you don't have the opportunity to enjoy the moment. You have to be in a hurry, being certain that no one needs anything else, either food or drinks. You have to be continuously checking that everyone is pleased to be in your house.
Here comes my big question: WHY? Why do you need to be like a waiter in your own birthday? Why the need of becoming a slave in your own house?
When I talk about mixing people, I'm saying that if it's not enough to be serving everyone, you have to split your time (because you cannot split yourself) to be at least some minutes with each group!
Thank God I could almost always avoid that feeling of being in your wedding day or your sweet fifteen party, where you want pay attention to everyone so nobody is upset about being in your party without you.
For my birthdays, I never invite anyone. I prefer seeing who remembers my birthday, and who really wants to come. Either way is the same, I'm fully pleased when I have many friends in my house, and I'm not angry with the ones that only call, send a message, an e-mail, and cannot come. Of course this doesn't apply to my dearest friends, whom I'm waiting until I go to sleep.
Last year, my birthday was quite calm, only 9 friends came, and I was happy. I could talk to all of them at the same time, I didn't have to separate my soul and break my heart in several parts to share with all of them. I was happy and enjoying of a great easiness.
Some minutes ago, I received a call from my husband, he told me that at the last minute, he decided to invite more people to celebrate his birthday...TONIGHT!!!
At last minute...we have neither enough food nor drinks.
What the hell are we going to do?????
He cries like a baby that he doesn't have money...and he compels us to spend what we don't have!!!!
Am I a bizarre alien when I ask him to live according to our standard of life? Not to spend 20 when you work for 15? Not to invite many people to your house when you have to relax and enjoy the moment?
I have to pay my laptop and he prefers to feed some friends??????
GRRRRRR!!!!
I'm losing my temper and a killing migraine is knocking on my head's door
...
He has just arrived...
All these words for nothing...
All this acrimony is now wasted...
He gave the thing a little though, and has decreed that he would not invite anyone...
Nice...
I'm feeling a little bit guilty now...it's his birthday after all...
Yes, I have just come to agreement with myself...
I'm definitely, completely, and absolutely a funny bizarre alien.

Too old to be Skinny

2007-08-09T07:45:00.000-03:00

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/health/features/article2222740.ece

Reading Report 23
Name: Patricia Romano.-
Date: August, 2007.-
Title: Too old to be skinny
Source: http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/health/features/article2222740.ece
Date: August 9, 2007

Vocabulary:
Piling: to accumulate or store
Skewing: To look obliquely or sideways
Onset: a beginning or start
Stigma: a mark of disgrace or infamy; a stain or reproach, as on one's reputation
Outlawed: To place under a ban; prohibit
Outright: complete or total
Emaciation: abnormal thinness caused by lack of nutrition or by disease
Ratcheting down: move by degrees in one direction only
Striving: to exert oneself vigorously; try hard
Mindset: A fixed mental attitude or disposition that predetermines a person's responses to and interpretations of situations
Emote: to show or pretend emotion
Backlash: a strong or violent reaction, as to some social or political change
Entrenched: To provide with a trench, especially for the purpose of fortifying or defending
Faze: to cause to be disturbed or disconcerted; daunt

Summary:
Anorexia has a broader target nowadays. Due to the image show in famous TV series, and worldwide known actresses, the age of women suffering from this disease has increased up to numbers never imagined before. Some women are reluctant to accept they have a problem, because the majority of the ones interviewed take such eating disorder as a way to control every aspect which is not ok in their lives. They tend to feel that by controlling their eating needs, they are good at least in something. However, it’s been scientifically proved that it’s not only a matter of low self-esteem, but also there’s a gene in some women which increases the probabilities of having an eating disorder.

Personal Reaction:
It’s incredible how influential television can be. Sometimes I surprise myself by thinking about things I wouldn’t consider if I hadn’t seen them displayed on the silly box. However, I’ve always thought, and science has proved my belief, that there’s something else than public images that contributes to eating disorders such as anorexia.
You need to have this inner tendency, this inner need to stop eating. I’ve always been really obsessed with my own perfection, but I could never stop eating per se. Of course some would laugh at this, saying that it’s quite evident, but I sustain still today, that my overweight begun by eating a lot when I was pregnant and continues nowadays due to my extremely sedentary life.
Leaving aside my physical appearance, it’s unbelievable how grown-ups can be easily influenced by popular culture. I used to think that when you are 40, your ideas are more down to earth, and your self-esteem is strengthened in a way. It’s really sad to learn about these things.
Eating disorders have always been related to teenagers and young women, especially top models. The average woman in her forties was not part of this aberration.
It seems that not only prices are rising alarmingly, but also mental diseases among older people. It’s out of this planet to learn that a 68-year-old woman suffers from anorexia. Isn’t it?

Class of 2007

2007-08-08T14:40:00.000-03:00

Joy to the world, as in a previous entry, I'm saying, screaming, shouting, shivering, trembling, feeling with many senses...grieving in advance.

We are on the edge...

What's there for us?

Hope, only hope compelling us to continue walking up to the end. Hope of finding a job, hope of keeping in touch with our old fellows.

Love to our classmates, to the people working side by side to help us reach our goals. Love in a way to a building, full of history, full of stories.

Every stair remembers a fall. Every fall, carries concern. Every concern shows friendship.

Our brotherhood of trust will remain in our memories. From now on, we are giving our last steps towards something bigger than us.

Fear of falling before the finishing line. Panic, terror, horror when thinking about it. Dread for considering such possibility.

My glass is scratching the sky in a toast for you.

To you my friends... and to me also...the best of luck!

Salut!

Being myself again

2007-08-06T08:27:00.000-03:00

I've spent my holiday days being a lazy woman. I didn't do anything but play burako with my mother and a friend every day in the afternoon. In other words: I've been enjoying my holidays in an unbelievable unproductive way.

This year I didn't do anything special for my son's birthday. Every year I used to prepare a huge birthday party with souvenirs and a piñata. I used to work from early mornings to late nights in many handcrafts. This year I decided to give a chance to my husband's mother and allow her to buy everything. Of course, I went with her to choose the things we were going to buy.

Everything was related with the toy car's brand "Hot Wheels". The cups, the plates, the tablecloths, and the piñata...everything with a printed "Hot Wheels" picture.

My son's birthday was last Friday. The previous Tuesday I decided that I would paint my house, or at least a part of it. There was some paint left since we painted my house before we moved in, and now I had the time to use it. The front of my house was a mess. A well covered mess with many plants. My husband repeated all the time that we would change it when we have money, because his project was to have the walls covered with bricks. The project is great, but we don't have the money yet. Until that happens, it's good to use the resources we already have. That's why I decided to put myself into this action.

When my husband arrived he told me I was crazy. My answer was: "I know these walls are full of humidity, and they really need a great deal of work, but I prefer giving them a little make-up, even if it lasts only one month...so, don't say a word and help me"

Of course, he only helped me in the little things. The biggest work was done with my lady hands, but the satisfaction was greater than tiredness.

My house is different. I also painted some patches in the kitchen with some remaining of paint, so even when the colour is not exactly the same, you have to look at it closely to notice it.

In some weird way during my two painting days, I had the feeling that I was being myself again. Working from early mornings to late nights. Being tired. Feeling useful.

I've discovered that this state of unemployment is great for a while, but I cannot stand being calm for long terms. I need to use my extra energy in something productive. In fact, the more I do, the more energy I have to do more things. This doesn't mean that I want to go back to the hurry times of Lola's deadlines and teachers' pressure, but I need to do something. I need to work. I need to feel that I'm being productive.

I gave up my job for the values and ethics I have, but at some point, I wish things would have happened in a different way. Yesterday, I passed by the school I used to work, and since children were on their break, I saw some of my old students playing. A strong sense of sadness invaded my soul. I started missing them as never before. It's not healthy to be too fond with students, but I cared about them since the very beginning. Even when I left them, I thought I was failing them in a way, because they surely have a teacher who doesn't care as I used to, that gives them passing marks even when they do not know anything. A teacher who only wants a monthly payment. Someone completely different from me.

I'm only two days away from starting my Lola's classes again, and I have the feeling that this term is going to be more difficult than the first one, not only because it's the defining one, but also because of the emotive charge it's going to have. I hope I can fully be myself again, in order to pass all my subjects in the best possible way.

Peed by a bunch of dinosaurs

2007-07-28T23:10:00.000-03:00

Every person in this strange world has had the feeling of walking under a grey cloud when bad things subsequently happen. In other words, at least once in our lives (being a lucky person) we have to go through a stream of unfortunate events which may either strengthen or beat us.

Whenever these periods occur, we tend to experience disappointment, desperation, frustration and many other negative feelings which seem to be endless. The point is that we have to be as positive as possible for not trying to abandon every thing in which we are involved. During these periods, the best thing to do is to wait. Wait and hang-on until its end. Of course, these words flow easily, but the facts show differences in criteria. Some people are more patient than others. Some are calmer, some are stronger.

From time to time, we have to test our strength by getting up when we fall, without help. If this is well done, our spirit is strengthen, our self-confidence is raised and our willingness to go on facing challenges is at its highest peak.

However, if this is rather difficult, we can have a sense of defeat and thwarting which might be as bad as to lead us to a deep depression syndrome. When this happens, the best way out is to consult with a specialist. Sometimes we can overcome from depression only with our own efforts, but when this illness becomes a pathological thing...it's useless to try getting better by ourselves.

It's not for cowards or weak people to go to a psychologist. It's quite the opposite. We need a humongous strength to accept that we need help, that we're not powerful persons who can solve every problem with our bare hands.

As I said before, the best thing we can do to confront these black time spans is to wait. After all, nothing is forever, and if you belive in God...He will never send you somehing you cannot bear. Everything has its measure, and the main goal, is to help us grow up, emotionally and psychologically. Everyone has to live these seasons of loneliness and sadness to feel better, and value the important things more often. Basically, we don't pay much attention to our health, our loving ones, and our many posesions. It seems that it's never enough, which can be good if this doesn't mean that we don't enjoy every positive thing we have, due to the grieve that cause us what we don't have yet.

In these moments in which we feel that we were rudely peed by a bunch of dinosaurs, we have to bear in mind all the good things that we have, and find the strength to go on in all the people that haven't abandon us yet.

Be patient and enjoy the ride.

We are on the edge

2007-07-26T11:54:00.000-03:00

We are at the end of July...which means that we are more or less four months away from our finishing line. By finishing line I mean the end of going to attend classes.
I started thinking about all the things we lived together, and I cannot avoid being too much sentimental about it.
I think that we were one thing when we started, and thank God we all grew up side by side by in different ways.
In some way I feel the same sad feeling I used to feel when I was in my last year of secondary school. I feel that we are all going to take separate ways, and I know for sure that one of my best friends will move to other province. My other best friend doesn't live near my house. Which are the possibilities of working in the same place?
These holiday days are beautiful, and I'm enjoying them, but I miss my friends. I don't like the idea of not seeing them every day for five hours.
I've resigned my job, and this housewife life never was meant for me. I already stated that I'm not a desperate housewife. I'm a mother, a wife, a friend, a student, a teacher, a daughter, a sister, a sister-in-law... I have so many titles, I don't need the housewife one.
Nowadays I spend my days working on a project in my computer and visiting my mother and a friend. My only duties at home are limited to washing clothes and cooking from Monday to Friday (on weekends I have to rest, and my husband cooks)
I'm excited about the idea of finally having my degree. I'll accomplish my goal of being a teacher before my 30's, but I won't have my Lola Mora's life anymore. My down-to-earth place. My stressful release valve for stress. My everyday easy smile.
I'll miss everything. My friends, my classmates, the hurry of deadlines, the knowledge built-up, the English speaking discussions, Gabriel's greetings, my teachers teaching beyond their subjects...
Even if I have to sit for exams to get my degree, I won't be attending classes anymore. I won't be seeing the warm people everyday. We won't be the close, friendly, and hardworking group we are now.
I know I have to work on hat idea on my own, and maybe I'm the only one among my classmates with these worries, but I tend to attach my heart to the people I'm with. I'll work it out in some way, I know I will, but it's not going to be easy. I hope its easier for the rest of you.

My new glasses

2007-07-21T23:27:00.000-03:00

I was just reading what I wrote in my last entry and I'm quite amazed. On Friday I talked about the possibility of having my glasses broken... and you know what?...I don't have them anymore. What's more, I had to spend one week...seven full and complete days without glasses.

When I went to the doctor the news were not that good, because at first sight I couldn't see the full range of letters that he asked me to read. He ordered a set of studies which results came in a hurry to say that I was blinder than expected. My myopia raised as well as my astigmatism, plus my pupils are so weak that I have to take some tissue regenerative pills for two months.

My deep sadness only lasted that week in which I couldn't see. Now I only maintain my worries. I hope my eyes don't get worse any time soon.

I asked my doctor about surgery and his answer was: "You need a great deal of time, because there are a lot of studies we have to make in order to know if your eyes allow surgery. Not everyone is suitable for such procedure"

I said: "OK, thank you...it's not a proper moment....bye"

Now that I have my super trooper glasses with all kinds of filters to protect my weak eyes, I should take advantage of them, at least until I finish paying the installments, don't you think? They are beautiful, and according to my sister Chez, they allow people to see my eyes because of the anti-reflex system.
It's not that my eyes are sooooo beautiful to see...but a change is a change. I thought I would change my physical appearance in some way... and I did. I have new glasses now. I see better. I'm more confident when driving my van. I don't suffer my well-known migraines. At least I haven't suffer from that unbearable pain after my eyes got accustomed to the new gradation.
I have new glasses...
Now I have to think about other possibilities to change and go on with this stream of innovations.
I have new glasses....
I'm happy I will see better now.
The only problem I still have is that if you see me in the street and I don't greet you...it's not that I cannot see you...it's just that I'm almost all the time flying with my mind, and I don't pay attention to anything.
I don't know if I can change that...I'll try

Sudden changes, new beginnings

2007-07-06T17:28:00.000-03:00

I'm one of those persons who once a year (at least) needs to change her look. But doing it has always meant a break in my routine, a new beginning.
In general terms, I'm quite different to the general attitude of people. My year doesn't begin on January, 1st, but on December, 22nd. Why? Because my birthday is on December 21st. For these last years I started to feel that MY personal year starts that day, but since I don't like routines, I try to change something in my personal appearance some months before that.
For the last ten years my appearance has changed in two ways: size and haircut. The former since I got pregnant, the latter by choice.
Cutting hair is the easiest way of every person to change personal image. In my case, it's loosing some important part of me, as if I were actually cutting the bad aspects of the previous year. Yes, as you may already have understood...I go to the hairdresser's ONLY once a year. It takes me a lot of effort to decide going there. Of course, many reasons justify this. It's my only possibility of leaving behind my dark moments. It's quite difficult to define myself in terms of what do I want from a haircut. It's almost an impossible deed to find someone in whom I can fully trust the appearance I will have for the following three hundred and sixty five days.
This year I'm beyond that. I've been thinking about going to ask someone to change my image for the last three months, but I always have an excuse for not doing it. Mainly related with money. For the time being, I'm waiting for my husband to go to a doctor to discover if I need more gradation in my glasses, because after ten years of having the same glasses which are obviously part of me...I'm changing them.
It's not that I'm abandoning this faithful and loyal companions of the biggest moments of my life. I'm just evolutioning. I'm growing up, and I'm considering the possibility of having a glass broken due to the fragility of the system that holds it.
I can't believe it yet, and I won't until I have them in my hands, or better, in front of my eyes.
I'm preparing myself for such a challenge. What worries me now is what the doctor would say about my myopia. I hope is not as bad as I think, and my reddish eyes are only due to my hours in front of my computer.
I'm changing my image, as I've already changed my attitude towards life. My change of status, maybe by the end of this year, undoubtedly demands a new beginning.

Sunflower fields forever

2007-07-01T13:46:00.000-03:00

The most vivid memory I have from my summer trips to Mar del Plata when I was a child, is the image of sunflower fields by the route.
I remember I used to look at them in amazement, not because the flowers themselves were beautiful, but for the shining bright yellow carpet that they could create. By looking at them from a certain distance, I could imagine myself walking in bare feet and being caressed by that golden velvet surface.
The last time I went to the coast I wouldn’t have imagined being away from there for so many years, and coming back was much more significant than what I expected
Last January, I went back to Mar del Plata again with my parents after thirteen years, and it was really moving in several ways.
First, the last time I went, I was a daughter who travelled with her parents and younger brother. This time, I arrived there as a proud mother of a six-year-old boy, with my parents, my son and my husband.

Going back to my perfect place or a holiday, was quite shocking. When we entered the city, everything was familiar in a way, but completely new in another. The city itself has been improved in many ways for an international meeting that took place there some years ago, in which we could see on the news many demonstrations against president Bush.

We stayed there for 8 days, 3 of which I spent in bed with a massive sunburn. I was so excited the first day we went to "Punta Mogotes", remembering my childhood days and being so worried for my son not to get burnt, that I didn't take into account the fact that a 50-factor-protection cream had to be re-spread all over my body every time I went out of water. Staying under the sun with salty water between 10.00 a.m up to 18.00 p.m. is insanely dangerous, but I was so happy, feeling as a child again, playing with my son, looking at my parents faces and enjoying the moment that I only noticed my sunburns when I went to sleep at night and a burning fever was killing me. When I took my clothes off, my skin was red...but a fluorescent red. I was in real pain, but nobody could take away from me the fact that I spent the whole day in the sea.

All of us, except for my son, were burnt in different degrees. My mother, carrying her pain and trying not to notice it, wen to the beach every day! The following three days of my sun burnt, I didn't want to walk near the sun. I walked as someone trying to avoid being discovered, but actually avoiding being touched by the sun rays. Only those as white as me know the pain you may suffer with such burnts.

Anyway, I was so happy there, and so relaxed, that the day we had to go back to Tucumán I suffered from one of my horrible anxiety attacks. We had to stop by the road for thirty minutes because I couldn't breath. I felt that air was so thick that my lungs were unable to process it. My mother realized that I was not OK, and that's where she asked my father to stop.

When we could finally start our journey again, I sat by my mother's side, she hugged me and told me: "This trip moved so many things, right?" I just looked at her and we both started to cry in silence. Without words, we were sharing a feeling that no one else could have understood.

After half an hour of travelling, my sunflower fields started to appear again, and gladly enough, I started taking pictures of them. They inexplicably brought peace to my anxiety, and I could continue my travelling without any other explosion of sadness and melancholy.

The price of ethics and values

2007-06-30T10:35:00.000-03:00

I'm still shocked for some people's attitudes. I cannot believe that in my former perfect world of teaching you can find certain vices which make the teaching practice quite questionable.

Since I started teaching in fourth grade, I found myself with a complex group. Half of them were lazy, misbehaved, and didn't care even an inch about English. From the first test I gave them, realizing that they were bellow the standard level they were supposed to have, I talked to the head of the English department (to whom I'll refer as SPDM) to notify her what was going on. She told me not to worry about it...until parents' complaints arrived. One day, an overexcited mother came to school and talked to me in a disrespectful way at plain sight of everyone, almost screaming that she wouldn't sign that test because her son got a 2, and she couldn't accept that HER son had such a low mark. SPDM arrived at that precise moment and kept on walking. She hid herself in an office where she could see from the distance how I was being mistreated by this outraged mother. Obviously...she did nothing. When the mother went away, I was feeling quite bad, and SPDM called me asking to gossip what had happened. I looked at her, and started telling her some important things of the mother's monologue. SPDM only said: "I didn't know what was happening, and I didn't want to break into your conversation out of the blue." My next thought was: "You only wanted to cover your back" but I didn't say that to her.

The following day, I received a threat from one of my students. This little monster told me with an ironic smile: "Miss, my mother is coming tomorrow to speak with you... with some other mothers also...about the test results, juaz!" I only answered: "Great! They are going to save me the trouble of calling to tell them how bad you're behaving, and the lack of interest you have with the subject"

Immediately after that, I went and informed the school authorities what had happened and the following day I was walking with the school Director behind me as a bodyguard. I didn't want that...I haven't done anything wrong after all. My only interest was (and still is) my students' well fare. Apparently nobody believed it. In the end, the only ones who came to me, where those parents really concerned about their children learning process, asking in a very polite way, how they could help to improve their knowledge and their marks as a result of that.

Then I realised that I love teaching, but dealing with parents is something I will have to learn, and I will have to accept some day as one of the unfortunate but undeniable consequences of teaching. I love my students, but I don't like parents.

I'm on both sides, meaning I'm a teacher and a mother, and I know how to deal with teachers in relation to my son's learning. I know that respect is the first thing I have to consider when asking a teacher about my son's performance at school. I'm fully aware that my son might be an angel at home but a little savage at school. He might be perfect doing his homework with me, but he might also be a pain in the neck for his teacher at school. Why is it that other parents don't consider all this?

I gave them another test, and more or less, the same that failed the first, failed this one. However, some of them passed with a good mark, showing how much effort they made to pass. Of course, I told SPDM which were the results, and I asked her about the possibility of not giving the test results to the students, to avoid demotivating them. She told me that it was OK, and if they ask I could say that I won't give them the results without explaining anything. That day, I went to the classroom and I told them that I wouldn't give them the results because in general terms, they were not so good, and I didn't want to make them feel bad.

The next day, the same outraged came to ask me to show her the test. When I showed the test, he started developing an insane rage against her son. He got a 4. She saw that he couldn't recognize colours in one exercise, and after listening to me this time, she ended up saying: "I'm so sorry...now I can understand that the problem is not you, but my son...I have nothing else to say...I'm speechless"

When I told this to the authorities, they had a positive reaction. Nevertheless, SPDM asked me to fill in the mark forms in pencil, and give my students a quiz the following week to see if I could improve them. Exactly half of the course had a failing mark for their reports. I did as I was told. After a week and no improvement in my students' commitment, I told SPDM: "I did as you asked me to, but there are no improvements...the marks will have to remain the same." "OK, don't worry about it, but we are going to call a parents meeting to deliver the reports, and I want you to be there to explain the situation to them" She answered. And I didn't worry.

Last Monday I went to work and after I greeted my students, the same student that threaten me a month before, jumped up from her chair and asked ironically: "Miss why do I need help in English if I have a 5 in my report?" I stayed puzzled for a second, because I knew for certain that the mark I gave this particular child was a 3. Since I was speechless, some others also talked and said things like: "Thanks miss for gifting me a 4, I thought I would have a 1 because of my test results and my bad behaviour"; "It was not that important to pass the tests...you gave me a five after all"; "I'm not that bad...I've got a 5" etc etc etc.

I just wanted to go out and start running...I wanted to cry...I wanted to kill someone...I was...heartbroken.

When I could react, I said: "You know for sure that the marks you have in your reports are not real marks, right? Someone has changed the marks I put. By someone, I'm not meaning neither you nor your parents...but someone here within the school. When were your reports delivered?." "On Friday, Miss. But there wasn't a formal meeting, parents just came, looked for the reports and went away" They answered.

The first girl who spoke, was cheating in her first test, and I personally told her mother that she was cheating, because of which she would have a low mark in her report. I also asked her mother to send her to a private teacher, because, leaving aside the cheating thing, she was clueless in English. The mother agreed with me and promised looking for help. Now this girl, having a five, told me: "My mother and I were wondering why should I take extra private classes if I'm not that bad." I tried to make her understand in a different way, but without saying her real mark, that she didn't deserve a 5.

Of course, at the moment I didn't know what to do. I was shocked. I went to look for SPDM when I finished my class, but she wasn't there.

How can someone change someone else's marks without even informing? Was I a puppet for them? How could they modify my marks if they weren't there when my students did or did not do all the things that justified my marks? How could I look at those students who really worked a lot and did all their efforts to pass? The others who didn't care, didn't have the marks they deserved. How could I look at those little hopeless faces? They would think that I was speaking nonsense when I told them about their possible marks. What would their parents think? I would be on the spot for the rest of the year? They would be waiting for anything to happen to come an shoot me with their accusations. How could they give a passing mark to someone who doesn't know, and expect me to be OK with that?

The following morning, I was so sad that I didn't want to talk to anybody. I was secluded at home trying to study for my exams, but I couldn't link one idea with another. I couldn't concentrate myself, and I just wanted to cry out of impotence and rage towards the system. The only thing I could think about, was in delving into my mind to find a possible justification for such a reaction on behalf of the school's authorities. I didn't now what to do, but I knew for certain that I didn't want to go back to school and face my students. I was really ashamed, even when I had nothing to do with the changing of the marks. After all, I was the one to blame if the parents found out that their children didn't know and their marks didn't show that.

My mother phoned me, and after listening to my voice, she asked me what was happening. When I told her the whole story, she was as shocked as I was, and told me to phone my father and ask for his advice. I did it. My dad is my compass in my teaching practise. Not in content matters, because he is an accountancy teacher, but in everything else which is related to the profession itself. He's been teaching for 36 years now, and he has worked in many places, including being the President of Junta Media de clasificación two years ago. So, he knows something.

The moment I finish my speech...he remained speechless for a while. "Daddy, are you there? What is happening? Please, tell me what should I do...I don't know what can I do"...(silence)...

"When I was 25, I worked at a private school and they wanted to do the same to me...I was married and I had a son, but I quited" he said in a broken voice. "The thing is that I wanted to do the same, but I wasn't so sure about such a drastic measure. However, I'm convinced that my dignity doesn't have a price" I said. "The other possibility you have is that you stay there...but how would you feel?" He asked. " Bad" I said trying to avoid my urge to cry. "So there's no other way out" he finished.

He dictated me the resignation letter, and said that I should go and ask for an explanation. I should argue in any aspect, even when I really wanted to clarify my position, and justify my decision. I shouldn't talk, I only had to listen to them. I had to wait until they finish talking and hand in my resignation letter without explanations. So I did.

The problem was that my resignation letter wasn't accepted, and SPDM got crazy when she read the content. She started threatening me, and trying to convince me that it wasn't that terrible what they had done. At one point she said that I shouldn't be such a fool to resign for so little problem, which in fact was not a problem, but a common practice among all the teachers. Wen she understood that I wouldn't discuss my decision with her, she threatened me with legal things.

Anyway...since things went nasty, I phone again my father and he told me to go to the post office, and send a telegram with my resignation.

I had so many projects, I had so many ideas! I wanted to go on working with those children, trying to teach them...but REALLY teach them English. I was absolutely determined to put them at the level they should be. They caused me many headaches, they put tears in my eyes, but they were MY students, my little boys and girls, my rough stones that I wanted to polish...they would have become my pieces of art. I thought about so many things to do with them in order to help them learn. They were my first real challenge in my teaching practice...and I didn't have the chance to say good bye to them, I couldn't explain why I was leaving them...I couldn't tell them that they were not the reason why I left...

My God, why did the authorities do that? If only they haven't done it...

I'm so sad...

So sad...

My dignity isn't for sale...they should have thought about it. I wouldn't stay there just for a monthly payment under those circumstances. I may be "new" in their eyes, but I've been teaching for five years now. Moreover, leaving my teaching experience aside...I'm a 28 year-old person, full of high values, and brought up on the basis of ethics...how is it that they didn't take that into account? How did they imagine that I would leave things as they changed them without complaining? Was I a puppet for them? Just a person to keep those children closed in a room for four hours a week? Just a baby-sitter?

They didn't take into account that even when I don't have my degree yet, I'm an English Teacher whose main interest is not to keep "clients" at school, but to really teach children and be there working for their improvement.

I'm so sad...

So sad...

My ups, downs and upside downs

2007-06-21T17:17:00.000-03:00

Some days I feel I can reach whatever I want, and actually doing it fills me with pleasure and satisfaction. During those few days I'm powerful. I'm happy for finally having found my path after so many years. I'm one hundred percent sure that teaching was, is, and will always be my destiny. I experience confidence in my teaching practise. I don't leave space to doubts and hesitation in my decisions.

However, for some time, since I started my fourth year, I've been having many doubts. I started thinking that I was not good enough. That I wouldn't be able to teach anyone. I started wondering how is it that I'm in my studies' last step. Failing almost every assignment I had to hand in for my language classes lead me to the big question of: How much (or how little) do I know?

Nowadays, I'm feeling also quite frustrated due to my resignation to the teaching job I had, which is actually the topic for a whole new entry.

I'm feeling blue, I'm feeling down. Even when I try to manage my sadness, at some point, I start feeling restless, impotent and with a huge urgency to cry in despair.

For some time I can also experience different feelings. It's not a clear-cut distinction between feeling greatly up and feeling extremely down. I also have my few upside down moments, in which the huge mixture of my own sentimental roller coaster is absolutely overwhelming.

During those days, I cannot make up my mind, because I feel confused to the limits. I have the sensation of being in a train that doesn't want to stop, where I can see everyone but not look closely at anyone. During those days, I generally feel that I'm in a hurry. I don't have time to spare. I don't have the right to waste my time.

My upside downs mean that I'm less tolerant than ever, I'm not patient with people. I start thinking that I'm only good at treating children and teenagers. Adults become a mysterious thing I cannot neither manage not stand with. For example, at home, I cannot stand looking at my husband, but I'm in great terms with my son. At work, I used to be quite relaxed and calmed with my students, but I couldn't talk to any grown-up, not even in friendly and shallow way.

The worst problem here is that I still don't know who I can blame because of these sudden changes in my mood. Sometimes, I know that the environment may be a powerful instrument to change my state of mind. Some others, people's social insanity drives me mad. But on some occasions, when I'm completely and absolutely clueless, I can only blame my hormones and try to spend my time doing positive things which might divert my attention from the unpleasant state of mind in which I am.

Sickness

2007-06-18T10:20:00.000-03:00

I'm sick and I don't feel like writing anything. My husband would say I should stay in bed, but I don't want to.
I'm three weeks away from my winter holidays and I'm planning to take advantage of the time I have. I really want to have a rest at least for fifteen days. That's the duration of my son's winter holidays. I really want to spend some more time with him.
I'm not at home now, even when I physically am. My mind is busy working in everything I have to finish between today and July 6Th.
The good news is that I've already finished my teaching practice for this period. I don't have to wake up at 5.50 a.m. every Wednesday to be on time at school. I don't have to wait for the crowded bus. Full of teenagers and children...so little. How can they be up and travelling by bus at that hour? Every day?
My God! My son also goes to school early in the morning. Sometimes I feel like keeping him at home with me. A minute later, I realize that I also went to school very early in the morning...and I'm still alive. Moreover, nowadays I also get up at 6.50 a.m. ... everyday... and stay up... studying and working on all my school assignments.
No, I'm not a housewife, I hate housewives duties. That's why I'm looking for a daily maid. I have one twice a week now, and my house stays clean easily. We are three after all. We don't mess everything up. We try to keep an order at home. None of us like ordering things. One should keep his schoolbag in his bedroom. The other should keep his coats, and tools away from sight...that's not so easy. The kitchen round table is almost all the time messy. Books, folders, tools, my laptop suitcase... I try cleaning and ordering it...but I don't like ordering things... however I hate more being in a messy place. I don't like coming back home every day at almost 1.00 a.m. and find out that there's no order at home, that something isn't clean.
I don't like waiting for someone to do the things we all should do.
I don't like housekeeping, but I always end up doing it myself. My husband helps...at times. But he has the idea of being the only one who does something at home. I don't argue, I already have problem outside my house. Why should I bother if the kitchen table is full of things which doesn't belong there?
I'm sick, I don't feel like writing anything. I don't want to go to bed. I have to take advantage of the time I have....I'm only three weeks away from winter holidays...
Only three weeks away...
Only three...

Some of my onion layers

2007-06-17T23:36:00.000-03:00

I'm not a perfect person, I'm full of flaws, but I'm always trying to keep away my bad side, to avoid affecting people around me. I know that sometimes I can be a really harmful person, but honestly...I don't mean it. I'm sorry if I hurt or bother you without noticing it.
Since I was more or less thirteen years old, I denied myself the possibility of being in good terms with people. I had my close friends, of course, but I wasn’t a common lovable person. A really sad event in my family made me believe that I was worthless to the world. That’s why I used to think that if the world didn’t care about me, why should I care about the world?
My parents would always say: “Be careful with what people can think about you, be very careful with the image you give to the world”
I don’t know if it was due to resentment or what, but I’ve always done the opposite. In fact, when I got pregnant, the least thing I cared about was ‘what would people say.’
This year, maybe because it is my last year (I hope) at Teacher Training College, I've been trying to be in harmony with everyone around me, and I found out how difficult that can be. I cannot say which the thing that made a ‘click’ on me was. However, I have to recognize that until last year, I didn't care much about being OK with everyone.
Nowadays… it has become a must in my life.
I don't want to be misunderstood, I don't want to be in troubles I don't make, I don't like being in the twister's eye. Nevertheless, no matter how hard I push myself to achieve that, I always end up participating in conflicts in which I'm not the only one to be blamed. I've always thought that in every problem in which more than one person are involved, no matter their degrees of guilt, both parts share faults. One for doing something that might hurt the other, and the other for giving the space and opportunity to be hurt.
As I said, this year I'm different, and this is maybe because I've learnt that sometimes I've been so concentrated in victimizing myself, that I didn't take into account which were my own faults in every sad thing someone else provoked. Also, because I strongly believe that by feeling in that way, you may not be focused enough to know that your bad attitudes may diminish in many ways the degree of harm others might have caused before.
I'm too critical with myself in every aspects of my life, and because of that, other people’s destructive critics might strengthen my own constructive ones. Although when someone says something which is not well backed up by a coherent attitude, I just don't care.
All of us carry our own burdens, but this doesn't mean that we are entitled with the right to hurt others due to our depression, sadness, lack of self-esteem or any other negative state. We have to be very careful with the way, and with whom we release our nervous tension. In my case, for example, when I have some problems at home, I might be quieter at school, meaning that I'm not as talkative as usual. I don't remember answering rudely to one of my classmates due to the "issues" I carry from home.
In every place I am, I do the same. In other words, if I'm angry with you, I'll show my anger to you, not to others. If I'm not angry with you, I might look for you to lean my head in your shoulder and stay calm.
Again, I'm not perfect, I'm full of flaws, but I never blame others for the things I didn't do, or the frustration I may feel for whatever reason. I'm not that kind of person. That's why I don't understand people who are insanely angry with me, but cannot say why.
Most of the times, if not always, anger is provoked by something specific, so, you cannot say that you don't know why you are angry with someone. It’s possible that you may not remember the reason, but the plain fact is that there's always one.
People who really give themselves the chance to know the real me, realize that I'm an unconditional friend who is twenty-four-seven willing to help. However, I accept that sometimes I'm not an easygoing person. I also admit that I frequently speak more than I should, or do things which produce certain types of damage in someone else's heart without intention. Nonetheless, I don't have problems when I have to agree with somebody's complaints and humbly say "I'm sorry". For this reason, if I ask you forgiveness and your answer is sending me to hell, please, don't blame me for going to hell, and not coming back to keep on walking with you side by side.
It’s not only the wounds I carry the ones that hurt. It’s when someone I care is suffering when I can’t stand with people’s meanness.
I’m not mean, and I don’t like someone else making me look as a mean person. I’m fighting with my inner self trying to be a better person, please don’t make me think that this rotten world doesn’t worth the effort.
You know... I'm like this. I write nonsense sometimes. It may not be easy for people to understand my writing. The thing is that I don't know if it is that important describing situations literally as they are. I embrace the hope that makes me believe that the ones involved in my descriptions will understand.
Sometimes I'm afraid of hurting someone else’s feelings. This blog is my space of reflection. I don't have to put everyone on the spot, do I? Is it fair that I do such thing due to my problems in dealing with them? I don’t think so. Lest the ones fully described don’t know a word in English. In which case I’m not hurting them…they just don’t know how I feel.

Just a little bit of consideration

2007-06-17T21:45:00.000-03:00

I don't why is it that I'm so sad if the ones involved in the problem haven't said anything to me.
Today is the father's day and my husband received a gift from me, and a gift from his mother. My mother was absolutely absent in gifts.
Last Wednesday, I was talking with my mother while showing her what I have bought to my father and husband, and she told me that was determined not to buy anything neither for my father nor for my husband. When she said that, I instantly thought that my father wouldn't receive a gift just because my mother didn't want to buy anything for my husband. Facing her determination, I just said: "Have just a little bit of consideration, and think who pays for your mother's days, and birthdays gifts."
My younger brother who was also there, agreed with me and said that she was being mean, and that she should not behave in that way.
She just said: "You are obliging me to go downtown next Friday, and it's going to be a nightmare"
The whole issue stayed there, but I thought she understood that I was referring to both fathers in the family.
Apparently, I was not clear enough.
On Friday I went to her house and she showed me lots of bags with things she had bought that morning. There was my father's gift, but nothing for my husband.
I didn't say anything because I thought she would buy something little and cheap for him on Saturday when she would go to the supermarket. I thought, "OK, maybe she will buy a cologne or something like that. After all, it is just the intention"
Today we went to her house and she was preparing the barbecue. When she came to the kitchen where I was preparing the salads, I asked her in a whisper:"Did you buy something for Gonzalo?". She answered with a denying face: " Did I have to?" I just gave her a smile and said nothing.
The funny part is that after that she was angry. I didn't want to look at her.
I was frustrated. My husband's mother is a real witch with me, but she always gives me something for my birthday and for mother's day. This is not the first time my mother doesn't give anything to my husband for special occasions. I know they don't have a good relationship, but a symbolic gift would have been enough to me. She should have done for me, not for my husband.
I wonder what she would feel if my brother's future wife didn't give her anything just for the same reason she doesn't: "He/She is not my father/mother!"
My God, what kind of answer is that?
I know I may be wrong, I'm always opened to the possibility of being wrong. But I feel I cannot discuss anything with her. She is so close-minded. Sometimes I want to punch her on her face, and make her react.
Please God...Help me not to care!
I can't stand her reactions, and it is worse when I think that she goes to mass every Saturday to pray God, and play the part of a good religious person.
How can you be devoted to God if you set the limit of that to one weekly hour, and you are so mean with people around you?
The thing is that my husband didn't say anything, because I know he doesn't care about receiving gifts. However, as I previously said, it's not that I needed her to spend a big amount, it's not an empty materialism in me speaking. Everything I feel now is limited to my mother's lack of consideration in not maintaining the symbolism of giving a gift to the responsible of her grand-motherhood.

One of my onion layers

2007-06-05T08:14:00.000-03:00

I'm not a perfect person, I'm full of flaws, but I'm always trying that my bad side don't affect that much people around me. I know that sometimes I can be a really harmful person, but honestly...I don't mean it, I'm sorry if I hurt or bother you.
This year, maybe because it is my last year (I hope) at Teacher Training College , I've been trying to be in harmony with everyone around me, and I found out how difficult that can be.
I have to recognize that until last year, I didn't care much about being OK with everyone, but nowadays it has become a must in my life. I don't want to be misunderstood, I don't want to be in troubles I don't make, I don't like being in the twister's eye. However, no matter how hard I push myself to achieve that, I always end up participating in conflicts in which I'm not the only one to be blamed.
I've always thought that in every problem in which more than one person are involved, no matter their degrees of guilt, both parts share faults. One for doing something that might hurt the other, and the other for giving the space and opportunity to be hurt.
As I said, this year I'm different, and this is maybe because I've learnt that sometimes I've been so concentrated in victimizing myself, that I didn't take into account which were my own faults in every sad thing someone else provoked. Also, because I strongly believe that by feeling in that way, you may not be focused enough to know that your bad attitudes may diminish in many ways the degree of harm that others might have caused before.
I'm too critical with myself in every aspects of my life, and because of that, other people´s destructive critics might strengthen my own constructive ones, but occasionally when someone says something which is not well backed up by a coherent attitude, I just don't care.
All of us carry our own burdens, but this doesn't mean that we are entitled with the right to hurt others due to our depression, sadness, lack of self-esteem or any other negative state. We have to be very careful with the way, and with whom we release our nervous tension. In my case, for example, when I have some problems at home, I might be quieter at school, meaning that I'm not as talkative as usual, but I don't remember answering rudely to one of my classmates due to the "issues" I carry from home. In every place I am, I do the same. In other words, if I'm angry with you, I'll show my anger to you, not to others, if I'm not angry with you, I might look for you to lean my head in your shoulder and stay calm.
Again, I'm not perfect, I'm full of flaws, but I never blame others for the things I didn't do, or the frustration I may feel for whatever reason. I'm not that kind of person, that's why I don't understand people you are insanely angry with me but cannot say why. Most of the times, if not always, anger is provoked by something specific, so, you cannot say that you don't know why you are angry with someone, you may not remember the reason, but the plain fact is that there's always one.
People who really give themselves the chance to know the real me, realize that I'm an inconditional friend who is twenty-four-seven willing to help , but I accept that sometimes I'm not an easygoing person. I also admit that I frequently speak more than I should, or do things which unintendly produce certain types of damage in someone else's heart, nonetheless, I don't have problems when I have to agree with somebody's complaints and humbly say "I'm sorry". However, if I ask you forgiveness and your answer is sending me to hell, don't blame me for going to hell, and not coming back to keep on walking with you side by side.

What am I doing noooow?

2007-06-04T08:36:00.000-03:00

Some people may make you experience all the possible feelings in the world towards their attitudes. You can easily go from pity and sadness to exasperation and anger. More or less this is what happens to me whenever I see one of my teachers.
He seems to be a good person, but you never know if he mumbles because it is his way of speaking or because he is too depressed to speak with an open mouth as when you are willing to say something and be understood.
The first class we had with him, I believe that the general sentiment was a sadish one. I remember being at the end of school, on an inhospitable area of the building, looking at him, then looking at my classmates' faces, and then looking at him again, wondering how is it possible that not knowing this man, we were listening to his own stories about depression and surmenage, oddly mixtured with old movies and war anecdotes!
One of the classes, we stayed silent and out of the blue, he covered his face with both hands and started shaking his head while saying: "What am I doing nooow?". We stayed puzzled. Even when I knew it wasn't the correct answer, I said: "Nodding?". Still with his covered face he replied: "Nooo, what am I dooooing?". No one responded. Then he explained: "What happens when you put some bananas, milk and sugar on the blender, cover the top and put the blender on?...You will have a milk..." "SHAKE!" we added. "Yes, that's it!" He enthusiastically agreed. Of course we were waiting for something else to complete the idea of why is it that he wanted us such answer, but no, that was his only aim...to "teach" us the expression "shake your head".
Anyway, we haven't had many classes so far, because he seems to have a very fragile health and a very busy life, and so far, in terms of contents, his subject is like a monitored break. Since he seems to be accustomed to talk only to one or two students sitting in front of him, the rest of the class can easily do whatever they want from other subjects. Last Friday we had our first exam, and the questions were suspiciously simple. I say "suspiciously" because I don't know him, and I cannot infer what is the type of answer that he might consider correct. I hope my test was successfully completed. By the way, since it was really cold, my hands were stiff, and as if this wasn't difficult enough, he started talking to me and telling me how much he suffers low temperatures, because he cannot get a heater. Of course, the talk was long, and I just nodded respectfully because I didn't want to be rude and say: "Hello! I'm trying to write here!"
I really don't know what are we going to do up to the end of this term, but what I can say for sure is that this man, by choice or by fate, is alone, and at times his loneliness seems to be his heaviest burden, sometimes more unbearable than a migraine. In fact, he walked almost a block chatting with a classmate and me, until he told us: "OK girls, I have to go the other side, so...see you next week, have a nice weekend, bye!"

Mother's Pride

2007-06-03T14:34:00.000-03:00

I can happily say that I'm a proud mother. My son has passed his first English test with an extraordinary eight, and by his own merits, because I didn't help him in any way before the test.
Since he started school I've been struggling with his learning and behaviour difficulties, that's why I didn't want to teach him anything in English. I was really afraid of teaching him more contents than those he is supposed to handle, and of course by doing that, being the one to blame for his boredom and more misbehaviour during his English classes.
He didn't study alone either, but apparently he's been paying attention to his teacher because he got such a great mark in his test. I didn't have the chance to speak with "Miss Abigail" about my son, but everyone at school knows I'm studying to become an English teacher, I hope that's not an excuse for pushing him more than the rest.
My son has always been my light, my only sun, I love him in a way I couldn't have ever imagined before...Pure love, pride and hugs all the time. Whenever I'm down, he comes and smiles at me or gives me a kiss and that's all I need to be in the moon, smiling back full of happiness.
I think I'll remember for the rest of my life when he was 4, and I was suffering one of my painful migraines. We were alone at home because my husband was working. I went to bed, silently for not worrying him, and after some time he came desperately looking for me. "What's happening mummy? Why are you in bed?" he asked with his precious and sweet childish voice. "I'm having a headache, but don't worry, I'll be OK in some minutes" I replied. "Why don't you take a pill, then?" he said. "Because I cannot find them" I answered. "Don't worry, I'll look for them so you can feel better" he exclaimed.
He went away and after some minutes, he came back with a pill that I couldn't find and a glass of water. "Take it mummy, you are going to feel better, medicines are good". In my pain, I smiled a little because he hates medicines, and immediately after that, a tear of pride caressed my face. He stayed with me until I felt OK, with his tiny hand in my forehead, as if he wanted to take out my pain with love. After an hour or so, my suffering disappeared and we could watch TV and play with his hot-wheels as if my pain never existed.
I`m a proud mother in so many ways that I couldn't describe them here. And since I always thought that our parenthood can be modified (or not) according to our experience as sons or daughters, I keep on telling my son that he is my sunshine and that I'm really proud of him. He got an eight and it never crossed through my mind asking him "Why not a ten?" as my mother used to ask me. I told him that he himself should feel proud about his achievements, and this mark is his pure merit.
Every Thursday is my nightmare because I don't see him. I know it's just a day out of seven every week, but the problem is that it is ONE FULL AND ABSOLUTELY COMPLETE day in which I cannot hug him or receive a kiss from him. I know that lately I've been really sensitive, and everything puts me to cry, but it was a Thursday when I read the description of those six year-old-children being alone on an island in "The Lord of the Flies"...I cannot explain my sadness...I was going by bus to my teacher practises and I started crying as a stupid, because I was imagining my "baby" being alone on an island.
I love my son, and I always try to tell him how much I love him. Eight years ago, I couldn't imagine myself being a mother, nowadays, I cannot imagine myself not having my beautiful, bright, intelligent, extraordinary, careful, and sometimes naughty son.

Pure frustration

2007-06-03T00:59:00.000-03:00

I'm 28 years old and after trying to understand my mother since I can remember, I feel an absolute frustration, similar to the ones who have failed many times the same exam might feel.

I still remember quite vividly the insane rage that she used to show us, whenever she found out that we had lied to her about something. For example, once I received a "flying" bronze ash-tray because she discovered that I was in a different friend's house than the one I'd told her, and I couldn't make her understand that I actually was where I said, but I had to go to the other place to look for something I needed. Moreover, my older brother's "flying" object for lying, was a chair, luckyly enough, he was a sports boy and he could avoid being hit. That's why I don't understand why is it that she is teaching my son how to lie to me, or to hide things which are really important for me, as a mother, to know.

The whole thing puts me on my nerves! Sometimes I don´t know if I want to kill her or just ignore her for the rest of my life. Of course I'm fully aware of the fact that this Hyde's feeling is only a momentary thing, which might vanish in a matter of hours or days, but on several occasions I reached to the point of wondering why do I forgive her?.

The obvious answer is equally frustrating for being both, simple and unchangeable: "She is my mother".

This answer, as I already said is frustrating, because I cannot accept that a mother can be as incoherent as she is with her life, and with her family.

The only response to my questioning her about her behaviour with my son is: "I'm a grandmother now, you can't compare my life now, with the one I had when I was a mother"

I fully understand that she wants to spoil my son as every grandparent might want to spoil theirs, but what I don't accept is that she is trying to destroy the values of honesty and responsibility that I'm trying to build up in my son's mind.

The worst part is that I've finally discovered that sadly enough, I cannot discuss ANYTHING with her, because even if I make a humongous effort to use a "motherese" talk when explaining her my complaints, she always has an answer for everything and she doesn't care if I agree or not with her.

My most recurrent pray is: "Please God, help me not to care about her opinions and her destructive critics towards me". You may be asking yourself why? It is because she never, or almost never has a positive comment about my motherhood or my life, and even when I feel good for fighting every day to be the best in whatever I do, all my efforts are diminished by her comments. Most of the times I tend to be at the edge of depression due to her negative words.

I really hope that at one point in my life, soon, I'll be able to draw a line between things I have to listen, and things I don't have to listen from her. At this moment, I'm still fighting with myself to stop feeling useless because of her.

A nightmare's week

2007-05-31T08:53:00.000-03:00

I'm starting school tomorrow, it'll be my first grade, I'm 6 years old and I'm quite excited about knowing new people. I hope my new teacher is as good as my kindergarten teacher. Mm mm, what about my classmates? Are they going to be nice with me?. Anyway, I'm going to sleep now, my mom is telling me off because it's 11.30 p.m. and I'm not sleeping yet.
Good morning Miss Mary!!! Miss Mary told us that we have to greet her everyday in the same way, to show respect, you know?. Oh! I'm the tallest in my class...nice! I look older than the rest! I can reach places which are forbidden for the short ones, but I don't like quite much sitting at the last spot in our class.
What is that? I'm listening to Miss Mary, but I cannot see what is she drawing on the board. Maybe if I close a little bit my eyes I can see better... Yes, I can! But it's tiring to be all the time like this...I'll take Carolina's sit, she is supposed to be sitting two places in front of me, but today she didn't come.
I'm a little better, but my teacher told me to go back to my place...I'm sad, where's my mummy? That woman... Miss Mary, you know? She is mean! She doesn't like me because my mother is not all the time at school as my classmates' mothers...Marcela's mother is here, Laura's mother is also here, where's my mother? I really want to cry...but I won't. I won't cry because I'm not that weak. I'm going home now and I'll be better tomorrow.
Today I got dressed in a hurry and asked my father and brother to hurry too, because I want to arrive at school before the rest of my classmates. I want to sit in a better place. After all, sitting at the back I'm like a shadow, Miss Mary only talks to the girls sitting in the first three rows.
Nice, this is my chance, there's nobody else, I can choose wherever I want to sit!
No, Marcela, I want to have this sit, go to the back and sit in my place! Oops! Marcela is crying... I don't care, I didn't do anything wrong! Marcela's mother is coming! My God, she is a tall woman! I hope she won't dare to hit me, I'm afraid now. I'm trying to explain to this woman that I cannot see quite well from my sit, I understand that I'm as tall as a tree and the little ones sitting behind me only see my back, but I've been suffering from a similar misfortune since the first day. My notebook is almost empty, I'm tired of being told off at home because I never finish copying anything, I really want to learn, I want to learn how to read. I don't like waiting for my parents having time to read me a short story! I'm tired of just imagining a story from pictures! I want to read!!! At the back I'm not learning...where's my mum? My teacher is coming and Marcela's mother is rushing towards her! What is she going to say...I'm in trouble...Oh, my God! I've been naughty, and if my mother finds it out, I'll lose my dolls! I don't want to lose my things, I just want to learn! I'm desperate, I want to cry... I've never cried when my mother abandoned me with Miss Mary, I'm not a crier, but Miss Mary is coming to tell me off...OK, I'm already crying...
No, Miss Mary (sniff)...I just want to sit here (sniff)... because I cannot see the blackboard (sniff)... from the place I'm supposed to be sitting, I'm sorry, I didn't do anything(sniff)...please, don't call my parents, I promise I'll go back to my place (sniff)...PLEASE, don't call my parents, they'll be upset with me!
What is happening? Apparently, she understood everything! Marcela is sitting behind me... but I'm having a note to my parents. What does it say? That's why I want to learn how to read. I don't like not knowing if I've done something wrong. What's the note about?
My parents are coming with me to school. Miss Mary asked us to copy some words from our book, while she speaks with my parents... "Mi mamá me ama, mi mamá me mima, mi mamá amasa la masa"... ready! Now I want to know what are they talking about! Oops, my parents face is not so good. What have I done wrong? If she understood everything yesterday, why is it that my parents are looking at me as if I were about to die?
We are at a doctor's office now. Am I sick? I don't feel anything. In fact I'm feeling quite good. Why am I here? No, doctor, I don't know how to read yet, I cannot learn anything because I'm sitting at the back. Oh, but I know that drawing is an "A", yes, and that other in an "E"...Mom I know how to read! But the tiny ones are blurred. I cannot see them. I'm sorry, I'm a complete ignorant...
Glasses? I don't need glasses... oh! But I can see the tiny ones now. Yes doctor, I can see perfectly well. That's a "P" which is my name's letter, and an "M" like the one I need to write "Mamá". Thank you doctor, your examination didn't hurt.
I'm happy now. I'm the only one in my classroom with glasses. I'm special. I can sit at the back without problems.
Marcela, you've been a mean person. Stay with your ugly place, I don't like it anymore. You are mean and I'm special. I have glasses and you don't. You're mean!...Oops! Marcela is crying again... I don't care, she is a crier, and I'm not...I have glasses and I'm special!

(Based on a previous entry called "My short-sightedness")

Thank you technology!!!

2007-05-26T11:45:00.000-03:00

It's unbelievable to watch this video because of its content. Here you have The great music idols Celine Dion and Elvis Presley singing together because of the wonders of technology.

When I watched the video I stayed gladly frozen with my mouth quite opened in amazement. Just to help you get an image of me watching it, I was as a child left in a huge toy store to play with everything. I couldn't believe my eyes! The shocking fact is that it's made in such an extraordinary way that for a moment you might forget that it is something impossible to happen.

If you want to watch the making of this video, you can go to You Tube and search for "Idol gives back - Elvis and Celine" and you will find it.

The song is beautiful, it is called "If I can dream", the singers are extraordinary while singing it...I'm still amazed!

My congratulations to the magicians!

Do we really care?

2007-05-22T12:30:00.000-03:00

Sometimes people say that they care about others, but I sometimes wonder at what extent do they really care?

There are many sayings related with charity, for example, my father used to repeat over and over again to my brothers and me "Charity begins at home", especially when we didn't want to share something among ourselves.
Another saying that comes to my mind, I don't remember when was the first time I heard about it, but it's a quite interesting phrase something like: "If you are wealthy, share your riches, if you are poor, share your heart"

I think this quotation summarises the real meaning of charity. We tend to believe that giving away some money to beggars is the only way of being charitable, but what happens when we have no money? We feel that we are helpless and there's nothing further from truth. If we have ourselves and our willingness to help, with these two things we can start changing one minimum part of this upside down world.

On the other hand, we have really wealthy people who don't even reflect upon the idea of sharing richness. It's OK to do the maths by saying "I've worked a lot, I've earned this money with my own effort, then why should I give some to those who rely too much on other's charity?". But we have to take into account those who have tried, but haven't succeed in working to get money.

The main problem nowadays, which in a way could explain this raise in the amount of people who don't work, are all the social plans released by the government which benefit many people and families. Why do I say this is a problem? Because since those plans started to function, it's more difficult to find women to work in housekeeping or moan loaners. They are too comfortable receiving a tiny amount of money without having to work, then why should they work?.

I strongly believe that being charitable is also related with this saying: "If you want to feed a man for a day, give him a fish. If you want to feed him for the rest of his life, teach him how to fish". Government plans in general terms only give the fish, even when there are some aimed at teaching how to develop a certain skill. The issue is that people don't take much advantage of that.

I chose the video which accompanies this entry, because as you may have already inferred, I really like Josh Groban, plus I started thinking in those boys singing with him. How they were chosen to do that? How are their lives like? Do they really live among poor African people? They looked quite healthy, well-dressed, and seemed quite happy.

Here I have to go back to what I've already said, at what extent do this people doing programmes to get money for the poor ones really care? Is it because they have to, or because they WANT to help others?...
In the end, if the goals are achieved that question shouldn't be that important, what wouldn't be quite nice is if either they only do it in order to have free publicity, or if they are just doing it to make a commerce out of charity.

Metamorphosis

2007-05-21T10:53:00.000-03:00

I've always been considered a fat person, but the funny thing is that now that I'm really over weighted, I don't care much about it.

As a child, when I was 5 years old, I used to be as thin as an African child, with clearly visible bones and balloon-bellied. But after a year and my mother's insistence giving me vitamins and food, I became a chubby healthy child.

My obsession with weight, started when I was more or less 10 years old. My mother and my older brother, started teasing me because I was fatter than the rest of my friends. Until, one day without noticing, I started feeling inferior because of my size.

The nightmare lasted approximately 11 years, with huge fluctuations in my physical appearance.

By the time I was 15, I was as tall as I am now, but weighting only 58 kg The sad part is that I never gave myself the chance to enjoy my thinness.

I was all the time worried about losing more kilograms, and I could see that I was already thin.

I've never suffered neither from anorexia nor bulimia, but in a way, I've always had eating disorders. I remember going to a nutritionist and coming back home with my diet, just to listen to my mother shouting that she would never cook a different meal for me. I should cook it whenever I came back from school if I wanted to follow an ordered diet.

I've never liked that much my mother's cooking, because she used to put too many spices to any type of food, and her cooking almost 90% of the times included fried things.

When I got pregnant, I relaxed myself and started eating everything I wanted. I felt that it was my chance to enjoy without feeling that my mother would make me feel guilty about my weight.

The funny thing is that by the time I had my baby, my mother had gained exactly the same weight as I had gained and neither of us could never lose them.

Nowadays, because of my rushing times, I cannot follow an ordered diet, and sometimes I have breakfast, then lunch, and nothing else during the day, or sometimes, before I go to sleep at night, I eat something completely unhealthy from my fridge. The fact that I cannot lose weight is also due to my sedentary lifestyle. But, to be honest, the only moments when I get depressed about being the humongous closet I am, is when I have to buy new clothes, and every stupid girl at any shop I go, looks at me from top to bottom with an annoyed face and says: "No, we don't have anything of that size".

School sweethearts

2007-05-20T12:47:00.000-03:00

It's funny when you are doing whatever, and you find yourself recalling moments from your childhood or adolescence. That is exactly what happened to me today and I decided to write about it.

The thing which triggered my memories was a Gloria Estefan's CD called "Mi tierra" which I used to listen when I was 15. I was listening to it this morning while correcting tests. When this CD was released, Aerosmith also started selling their "Big ones" album.

That was the disc which was being played the day I met the boy who ended up being my first true love.

Both of us were 15, and I was really shy for my age. I was not thinking about having boyfriends as the rest of teenagers who were around me, I left that itchy thing for them. I already had had a pair of short experiences (the first one lasted one week, and the second two months) and I thought it wasn't my moment to have a boyfriend. I was truly OK having tons of friends and enjoying every moment with them.

One day, my friends and I went to one of my new classmates' house, because he wanted us to meet his former classmates from E.A.S. I arrived there with five girls, and we found a beautiful noisy house, fully covered with six boys' excitement for meeting girls.

I can still remember that day being a really cold one. I was wearing a pair of black tiny gloves, blue jeans that my god-mother gifted me for my 15Th birthday, a colourful scarf, a baggy sweater, and a black woollen hat, which made my face look younger.

After some minutes there, a pair of my friends were "deeply-in-love" with two strangers, and I just only laughed at them. I found such urgency about calling LOVE to any type of attraction, quite childish and silly.

We spent the whole afternoon dancing, everything was nice until one of the boys took the microphone (we were 12 but the boys were singing and playing an electronic guitar) and almost screamed: "Raul likes the one with the hat!"... I stayed in shock for some seconds, then I looked at one of my friends, and started laughing while taking my hat off.

Obviously, everyone laughed at my reaction and Raul was quite red due to the embarrassment caused by his friend's outburst. After some minutes, I said: "Bye everyone, it was a pleasure meeting you", and I heard one of the boys whispering "Go Raul, walk her home, it's just three blocks away"; I started walking, and when he asked me if I wanted him to walk with me, I answered with my eyes looking to the floor: "No, thank you, it's cold outside and my house is not that far...bye!"

Days passed and I didn't see Raul again. But I had my friends teasing me all the time with that episode.

By that time, my mother finally agreed on letting me go to school dances, those organized on Saturday evenings, by teenagers who wanted to earn some money to afford their school trips. It was in one of those that I saw him again. I was dancing with my friends, and he came unnoticeable from the crowd, asking me if I wanted to dance with him. "No, thank you, I'm with my friends, I can't leave them, our policy is either all of us dance with someone, or no one leaves the group" I said with a tone of satisfaction, thinking he would go away. He smiled slightly showing his two upper-middle-separate teeth, and answered: "Don't worry, my friends also want to dance with yours"... I obviously didn't have many options.

That night was beautiful, because without expecting it, I spent the most romantic hours being just a 15 years-old girl, without kisses, because it was not well-seen kissing someone you don't know for a while, at least, with his hands holding mine, looking at each other's eyes and talking endlessly about our interests.

Two months passed, and finally on August 26Th, 1993, this boy became my boyfriend, after being mute for hours and shaking as an autumn leaf. I remember our faces full of happiness, with huge smiles, hugging and kissing for the first time, feeling that our love would last forever...

Sadly, due to his insecurity, and jealousy, our relationship only lasted four months. But even when many years have passed since those four marvellous months, I will always hold in some corner of my heart my love for him, which is not as strong as the one I feel for my husband, but will die with me as what has always been...my first true love.

Teaching children

2007-05-13T10:39:00.000-03:00

I still refuse to convince myself that I don't have to say "I will never...".
I used to say "I will never teach children, because I'm afraid of them". What's more, I reinforced that idea after covering a teacher, who couldn't work for two days, in second and third grade. There where just some hours teaching children which made me decide that for the rest of my life, I would NEVER teach children.
That decision lived in my mind for four years up to last March, when I was offered to cover 8 hours at primary school for two months. After thinking a lot, I decided to take the chance, because otherwise I wouldn't work this year, due to the closing of my coaching classes (economical reasons in between) at secondary school last year.
The thing is that I was absolutely frightened about teaching children because I didn't know how to treat them. I was so afraid of not being good enough or making them cry whenever I try to call their attention.
The fear lasted two weeks or so, and before completing my two months, I was offered to have my own hours, not just as a back up, but as the lead teacher.
My instant answer was: "No, thank you". But my husband made me think that it was a great opportunity to have my own groups before having my degree, plus, he saw the chance to stop giving me money.
So, I called the head of the English department and I said that I would accept her offer.
By now, I have to say that the downside of teaching children is that as a person who has spent 16 years studying English, I find the use of vocabulary and grammar quite limited. I have to rough tune everything I say so as to make sure that everyone understands what I'm saying. In contrast, I would have never imagined how gratifying teaching children might be. They are so sweet and loving that whatever happens to me, I know that going to teach them is an extraordinary experience which charges my "batteries" and helps me go on. Whenever I'm sad, they make me laugh, whenever I'm tired they give me energy and strength to continue with my day.
My students are kind and generous, they stop playing in their breaks to come and hug me or give me kiss. "Hello, miss!" they say with a huge smile on their little faces. When I'm with them in the classroom, some of them might complain about having too much work to do, but anyway, they try to do it. I cannot make up my mind yet if they work that much, because they really want to, or if it is because I oblige them to work. Moreover, I don't know if it's due to my age and ideals, but I wouldn't like to become one of those teachers who give their students some work to do, and just sit to wait the results. I'm constantly walking around the classroom, checking whatever they are doing.
To summarize, I have to say that I took this job as part of my experiences in life, but up to the moment, I have no regrets about it. I'm happy to have given myself the chance to try, and find out that working with children is so rewarding.

Different people, different reactions

2007-05-12T03:12:00.000-03:00

Today I proved once more that I can act coldly when something bad happens and my help is needed, but the moment I check everything is OK, I tend to relax and feel anguish.
One of my friends fell my school's stairs, and it's not that she just missed one or two steps...she rolled all the way down to the bottom floor. I was at the bathroom at that moment and I was shocked when I listened to a hard sound as if someone had hammered a wall.
I hurried myself to go out and check where this sound came. While I was hurrying, I heard someone saying "someone fell the stairs", and I worried even more. When I managed to go out and see downstairs, there was my friend in shock. I rushed to her side asking if she was OK but I couldn't receive an answer. I asked again and since I couldn't get a word from her, I left her sitting there and run to look for someone to help me.
When we went back, she managed to walk up to the staff room and we waited there for the ambulance to come.
Luckily, nothing happened to her, but we were all worried.
And I began saying "I proved myself once more" because whenever my mother or my younger brother are around me, and someone in the family gets hurt...they block their minds and start coming and going, but actually doing nothing (I call them rubber knives).
I'll give an examples so as to help when drawing a picture of them. When my son was 4, he was playing in my mother's house and running to catch her dog, at some point, he slipped and hit his head with a door's threshold, cutting her head. When we heard him crying, we went to see if he was OK and found out that her head was bleeding a lot. I instantly tried to cover the wound with my hand but my mother started crying. I said "Mum, calm down because you are not helping and call a taxi", she ran to the phone and got angry with the women who got her call, because there where no taxis available. Then I said "Mum, give me the phone so as to call my husband, and calm down". She never waited me to call my husband and went out to ask a neighbour to drive us to a CAPS which is near her house.
When we got there, my mother entered screaming for help, and I was making jokes to my son asking him not to pay attention to my mother. In the end a nurse helped us and made a comment about my son's and my easiness and laughed about my mother's anxiety. Of course, when I went back to my house, and after checking that no one was seeing me, I started crying because my obvious mother's fear wanted to come out.
My brother, on the other hand, was in shock when his best friend broke his arm, and went back home without accompanying him to the hospital. When he got there, I told him, "Let's go and see if he is OK. Maybe he needs something and is alone... Why on earth you're not with him by now?". He couldn't manage to move a muscle to say anything, and with his eyes struggling with guilt, after a while he answered: "OK, are you coming or not?". When we got to the hospital, we looked for my brother's friend and the doctors where trying to line his bones again, so as to put him a huge cast which covered part of his chest and his left arm. My brother was mute. He wouldn't say even a word. I said: "Martin, don't worry, we've already called your father, my brother is here and I'll talk with the receptionist about the papers that you have to fill in. Don't worry". After an hour or so, my brother started talking again.
The thing is, that I don't really know if I'm like that because of my mother's influence (whenever I got hurt she would tell me off), or is it just a difference in some people's character, the thing is that I leave the nervous breakdown for the moment in which I'm certain that everything is OK.

Nice to meet you Dr Jekyll

2007-05-11T07:47:00.000-03:00

In my opinion, generally speaking, people don't need to go to the extremes of evil to recognize their Hyde's side. After all, this duality between good and evil lies naturally in everyone of us. What's more, some people seem to have two, or sometimes more, very different ways of behaving according either to the persons they are with, or the degree of confidence they have built with them.
Putting everything into perspective, since last September, I've been 'suffering' in a way someone Hyde's side, which in many occasions I've lived it as a unbearable burden. Furthermore, at one point, I thought that besides the schedule, I've quit university for impersonal and cold teachers like him.
Nevertheless, as I consider myself a lucky person in some aspects, I've had the opportunity to have a glimpse at this person's Jekyll side on an absolutely different 'environment', and that's where I started feeling that the distance between us was not THAT long. I had the comforting sensation of having a slight possibility to relax myself and enjoy my learning with him.
I accept that for a long period, I couldn't make up my mind in relation to this man, but by now, my burden is lighter than ever.
The only thing I have to work out is how I behave towards corrections, because, in many cases, since I've been accustomed to have the best marks in everything, it's extremely difficult for me to give myself the chance to fail. After all I'm desperate to get my degree. I want to achieve the goals I set at the beginning of this year.
In addition, even when it doesn't seem, I haven't lost my initial aim when I started studying in tertiary level, which is to learn as much as I can. Although, for being a natural pusher with myself, and having increased my degree of obsession towards learning, sometimes I lose track and I refuse to take failure as part of both, my learning and my life.
I'm glad that I've found someone who wants to improve the best of me by pushing my mental and physical health to the limits. I've always thought that the more the exigencies, the best the improvement. But this doesn't mean that I'll be able to show a happy face whenever I have a below standard mark in whatever I do.
I'm sorry for showing my own Hyde's side sometimes, I'm still trying to improve that. Moreover, the worst part beneath my attitude towards failing my last assignment, is that I would have felt quite disappointed in some way, if I didn't fail it, after all, I was writing two essays at the same time, while struggling with my son's homework, and trying to complete my lesson plans. I already knew that at least one of them wasn't going on well. And here is where lies my deepest anger, at some extent, I have to agree with myself about my limitations in relation to multitasking.
Anyway, I'm sorry if I happen to cause discomfort or worry someone.
Classmates, PLEASE don't worry so much, it's not always what it seems with me. My mind is a steam machine working at its 110% all the time, and the percentage is increased on Thursdays because I don't have the chance to see my son for more than 20 minutes before he goes to school. While our school is my biggest worry at the moment, it's not the only one in my life.
I love you all, thank you for caring about me. This wouldn't be possible if I wasn't well accompanied and supported by you. You have become the pillars in which I lay my back when I'm falling.

When Hyde took possession

2007-05-06T19:43:00.000-03:00

I was talking with Chez last Friday, and I couldn't recall more than two outbursts of my Hyde's side... in my life.
I'm still searching on my mind, trying to find something more, but I cannot say I remember anything else. What surprises me more, is that both of them are within the last six years, and with the same person involved...my husband.
The first one, was on the early stages of my anxiety disorders. I was all the time waiting for something bad to happen, either to me or to any member of my family.
My husband used to go to university after work. I knew he was supposed to come back at 9:00 p.m., and every day I was waiting for him sitting by the door at THAT exact time.
Almost by the end of August, after a long and difficult period, everything changed. It was a cold night, and minutes started running faster than usual.
9:01...He was not at home as I expected... 9:05... I started worrying...9:10...I called him to his cell phone and he didn't answered...9:12...I called one of his classmates, and he told me that my husband went home two hours before...9:14...my mind started thinking that something bad had happened to him...9:16...I started crying...9:17...I changed my clothes, and my son's...9:22...I was standing behind the door, with my baby in my arms and a sweater for each of us by my side...9:24...my mind wouldn't stop, I was constantly thinking... the police is coming to say he is dead...9:26...I would have to deal with everything by myself; What am I going to do with a baby and no job?...9:27...How he dared to die?...9:28...I will never forgive him if he is dead...9:29...He cannot be dead, I would have to recognize his body, he cannot be dead, please God don't make me suffer anymore...
9:30...He finally arrived...Hi honey! I'm home! What are you doing here, where are we going? Why are you with that face?.
"What has happened to you", I said.
"I went to have some drinks with my classmates", he answered.
I put my son on his crib, started crying hysterically, I could only say "you don't love me even a little", "Why didn't you call?; Why didn't you tell me you where arriving late?"...after that, I opened the front door, and started running as a mad person.
I just wanted to run, I didn't care where. I just wanted to run to free myself from this eagerness to kill him, for not having any type of consideration.
After a few blocks, he arrived and I felt that by killing him I would lose my son also, and my legs stopped responding. I fell to the ground, heart broken, crying as if he was actually dead. I couldn't walk and I cannot remember the way back home. The next thing I remember is that I entered my house, I looked at my son on his crib, and everything went black while I was going to my bed.
None of us talked about it until the next day.
The other time in which my Hyde appeared, is not worth mention the whole episode, because one out of two people involved, could have spent at least one night in jail. I will only say that showing my Hyde was the best thing I could have done to defend myself.
It's not easy to accept when your dark side is stronger than the good one, but I cannot decide yet if it is that bad to react, from time to time. After all, whatever we do not express, makes our imaginary bags heavier, and more difficult to carry.

Don Sebastian

2007-05-06T16:57:00.000-03:00

Yesterday I decided that I wouldn't care so much if I'm overloaded with things to do. That's why I accepted one of my friend's invitations to go to the theatre. Thank God I did it!
One of my ex classmates from secondary school was playing a part in the play, and the truth is, that I was really pleased when I saw him, plus...I laughed a lot!
The play was "La Verbena De la Paloma", and it was funny because neither Gaby (the girl with whom I went) nor me, knew what to expect and what's the meaning of "Verbena".
I was surprised and glad when I realized that the sweet and tender old man called "Don Sebastian" was in fact, my hilarious and extraordinary friend Gonzalo.
Gonzalo, has been gifted with an extraordinary tenor's voice, and every time I had the opportunity to listen to his singing, I feel that I'm driven to another place.
I remember when we where on our last year at secondary school, he used to sing at every event we organized to raise funds for our trip to Bariloche. His Ave Maria was unbeleivable (even when he couln't remember quite well the lyrics). That's why I called him four years later when I was about to get married. I wanted him to be with me, singing in my wedding. Unfortunately, my husband's mother pushed her son with her influence, and in the end she was the one who decided on the subject. The worst part is that I had blocked that event in my mind until Gonzalo made me see that I was not the only one who got hurt and disappointed by that woman's actions.
Anyway, coming back to my visit to the theatre last night. Gonzalo surprised me once again. He played his part as a real old man, in an absolutedly funny way. Every time he appeared on stage, I couldn't help myself and I started laughing. If anyone could have taken a look at me, I felt that I couldn't be happier at that moment, it was as if I were a child and I was left on a huge toy store to choose everything I wanted. I couldn't close my mouth and stop smiling. I was happy, I was glad, I was proud to say that Don Sebastian is MY FRIEND. I wanted to hug him and congratulate him, and I did it. I didn't care when he told me not to hug him because I would be stained with his make up.
I don't know if he noticed my emotions, but I can definitely say that for an hour and a half I felt only positive things, and he helped me forget for a while this grey cloud I carry with me wherever I go. Seeing Gonzalo on stage made me feel better than any session with a therapist.
At this point, I can only say God, THANK YOU for putting my ex classmates on my way again! Every time I meet them is a refreshment and recharging of batteries, that no one could imagine. This is great, I've lost them for ten years, but when I found them again (last year) everything was as if we have never been appart.

At a blacksmith's....wooden knives (Cont)

2007-05-05T18:22:00.000-03:00

In order to avoid feeling extremely frustrated for being an almost graduated English teacher without power to teach family, I tend to think that every time my father and husband ask me "what's the meaning of..." I'm a helpful pocket dictionary for them, training my teacher's patience all the time.
When my father called, I tested my patience a lot, but the following day...was my opportunity to do the same with my husband.
He called me at 10.15 a.m. raging desperation. And our dialogue was the following:
Husband: "Gorda, I've been ordered to bring some members of the company to the airport. The are from Ireland and they do not speak Spanish at all. How can I say 'hola'?".
Me: "Hello" I answered.
Husband:"WHAT?" he cried.
Me: "Suppose that you have a J, an E, an L, an O, and a U".
Husband: "OK, I will have to take notes but, I'm driving now. May I call you in a minute?"
Me: "Yes, but you could have called before and I would have been pleased to go with you. I have to go to work in 15 minutes, so try to call before that"
Husband: "MMMM, OK. Don't worry. How do you say 'que tengan un buen viaje'?"
Me: "Have a nice flight!"
Husband: "Ah? That's difficult, you don't have something easier?"
Me: "At this moment...no"
For a micro second I thought about his complete ignorance towards English and the dialogue continued.
Me: "Take into account that you cannot say 'hello' when they are leaving"
Husband: "Ah... I cannot?"; "What do I have to say?"
Me: "Good Bye, or just BYE"; "Imagine a B, an A, and an I"
Husband: "MMM, then I will have a communication problem"
Me: "I'm sorry but I told you many times to learn at least 'survival' English"; "Because of opportunities like this one"
Husband: "OK, OK...I don't want to, and I won't want in the future either"
Me: "OK, good luck, then. Bye"
Husband: "Thanks, bye"
In the end, he didn't managed to say even 'hello' or 'bye' to these people. In fact, since the route was cut, and he didn't know at what time the plane was due to leave, he had to call to one of the company's secretary and ask her, because he couldn't ask them that simple question.
As I said on my previous entry, I don't want to be surrounded by an English speaking family, but I cannot understand why is it that some people refuse to "grow" and learn something that might be extremely useful for them. I cannot bear feeling useless with my family's needs, just because they don't allow me to help them with my 'knowledge'.

At a blacksmith’s…wooden knives

2007-05-05T11:05:00.000-03:00

I’m not one of those English students who want everyone in her family proficient English speaking persons, nonetheless, I really enjoy with a “Hydish” malignity, whenever I have the chance to say: “I told you to learn something, at least!”
Although it’s not the same with everyone around me, this feeling only emerges with my father and my husband. The former, because he is a professional and he has to read, sometimes, papers or internet articles in English, and what does he (at all times) do??? Calls me! And the latter, because he works in a multinational company, and sometimes he has to receive foreigners who don’t speak Spanish… AT ALL!
On every occasion my father is identified by my phone and with the most childish, sweet, kind and humble voice says: “Neeenaaa, I need your help” (the first word is not translated for the sake of reality)…I just cannot decide if I want to kill him or commit suicide!!
My brothers bought him a Dell pocket pc, which has become my nightmare, because all its software is in English and it doesn't have options to change the language of any type of commands. So, whenever his "acid" hands do something he was not suppossed to do, and the little computer refuses categorically to start, I receive a call. The good part is that maybe, in the long run, I end up being a proficient pocket pc operator!
Last week he called me at an indescriptible hour at night (it was my lucky day, I've come back early from school), and I cannot say exactly the hour, because I was already sleeping. In fact, my mother called me ( as his secretary, voice or who knows). I answered the phone with the chilling sensation of being about to receive bad news. I only said: "What has happened?" (I have caller ID at home also). My mother answered: "Heeeyyy, nooothinggg, it's just your father that needs your help and didn't want to call you, in case you were sleeping...but you were not sleeping right? Because you always come back from school at this hour, right?. The problem is that he is really worried because some signs appear on his pocket's screen, and he doesn't understand even a word! I'm afraid he will have a stroke, or something like that, and...". "Ok, mum, give him the telephone so he can read me what does it say", I replied (imagine my face...and will)
When my father got the phone he said: "Hi nena... jijiji! You were not sleeping right?jijiji. I don't know what has happened with this thing, I just tried to restart it, but now is useless, jijiji!". At this point...I defined myself, and I truly wanted to kill him >:\
My patience was tested once more, when he started reading. Even when I asked him to read everything as it is (not trying to pronounce in English), he said: "Teip iour scrin on te sides to estart iour neu configurashón" And the next thing I said was: WHAT????? Please read it again, slowly and do not try to pronounce anything in English, because I will get confused!!! Honestly, I understood everything but the first word "TEIP", because for me he was reading the word "tape", which had nothing to do with the rest of the instructions.
After some time, my desperation to go to sleep spoke when I asked him to spell word by word...HOLY SOLUTION! I found out that the word I couldn't get was "tap" and the complete sentence was "Tap your screen on the sides to start your new configuration". Then I said: "Dad, what have you done??? You have to set everything again as the first time!!! His guilty inner child uttered a simply: "I don't know", and he started laughing again. And here was when I changed my mind, and I definitely wanted to commit suicide.

Behind Schedule

2007-05-05T10:58:00.000-03:00

Every day I wake up thinking that I cannot be on time with everything. Whenever I start working on something, instead of feeling that I’m getting closer to achieve my goals, I have the sinking sensation of being further away from them.
There’s nothing new in my situation, I have been feeling the same for the last month and I have already stated it, but it’s incredible when you find out that even when your daily dose of Actimel is not functioning properly, due to stress or whatever, you can still go on fighting and refusing to surrender to the fact that none of us is an octopus.
Recognizing our own limitations is a good start when you want to stop feeling useless. You think that I’m talking nonsense, but, no. The explanation for this unclear paradox is the following: When you feel that you can do everything no matter what, and you suppose you have power over time, you will end up thinking that you are useless whenever you realize that time has gone by, and you couldn’t do what you had planned to do.
I have to take care of my family, work every day, and be on time with every assignment I have at school. It seems easy when you write it down in only one or two lines, but actually doing everything it’s really exhausting.
To be honest, the worst part in my case is that I’m so worried about fulfilling everyone’s (and my own) expectations in what’s related to my job and studies, that I haven’t realized until this morning that my son started pushing me away.
I don’t know if this is his way of punishing me for not being at home, and when I'm at home, I'm constantly thinking about something else I have to do, or if it is just because he is spending much time with his father. The thing is that it hurts anyway.
This morning, when I went to his room and said “Sweetyyy, it’s time… you have to wake up” and he answered “I wanted dad to come and wake me up”, I felt his words as a rusty knife cutting my heart into small pieces without any type of anaesthetic! And even when I truly wanted to cry as a baby, my instant answer was: “Ok, love…sleep again and I’ll tell your father to come”.
I’m still working on that, because since the day I was on surgery and the doctor said :”It’s a boy”, I have always been “first” in everything related to my son, and he came to me whatever happened to him at all times. My husband was just “painted”.
I think it’s going to take some time, until I accept (or not) that every moment I’m not at home, I’m turning into a cartoon, which is nice to be seen, but not as important as to spent much time with.

Sunny days

2007-04-30T08:54:00.000-03:00

Every person in the world has good and bad moments. Sometimes without even wanting to have one or the other, people feel either happy or sad.
Today is one of my sunny days, and I don't really know why. Could it be because is actually a sunny day or... just because. I won't spend much thought on it. The point is that I would like to extend this sunny day to other people, but how do you become a cheerful contagious person?
I would start by saying that today is one of those days in which I really want to thank EVERYONE who has been in my life for better or worse, for a minute or for a while. THANK YOU EVERYONE!!!!
Thanks to my family to support my dreams and help me achieve them, thanks to my friends to make me open my eyes when I close them tightly, thanks to the people who are not in my everyday life, but for a moment from time to time, thanks to the teachers who are not formally teaching me anymore, but have become a helpful source of wisdom every time I need it, thanks to the teachers I do have (and suffer sometimes) now, because they are strengthening my character and preparing me to go to the work life (and well-prepared), thanks to my boss for being such a kind person, and to my immediate superior for not being such... at all.
I'm thankful; I feel I can scream my happiness. Maybe I have too much sugar in my blood. Maybe I'm on a state of denial. Maybe, maybe, maybe...
I said I don't want to spend too much thought on it, but I cannot cope with my necessity of rational meaning in everything I have, live, achieve or receive. A good question might be: WHY?
Is it because of four years of therapy? Is it my shrink's fault? Or is it that I couldn't overcome (yet) this tendency of putting sticks on my own path?
Am I crazy? Am I delusional? Why am I doing this to myself? Why is it that I cannot enjoy my moments? GOD what am I doing?
No, no, no, I have to feel better again. I have to feel better again. I cannot fall. I cannot show a sad face anymore. I cannot, no; I cannot show a sad face again.
Family, I need you. Where are you? Friends? People not always present? Ex-Teachers? Teachers? Boss? Immediate superior?...
I'm alone...
But I'm not lonely.
I have myself.
What else do I need?
Anyway...THANK YOU EVERYONE!!!! And enjoy your day as much as I am enjoying mine!

Nothing to say

2007-04-22T21:19:00.000-03:00

Feeling speechless,
I’m empty,
No words.
Time flowing,
Hollowness,
Ideas running out,
No sound,
Grieving,
Thoughts refusing to appear,
Ordinary feelings,
Sadness,
Ants marching,
Youth disappearing,
No connections,
No ideas,
No happiness,
No sorrow,
Just the “nada”.
Black,
Deep,
Emptiness.
Useless world,
Worthless efforts.

On the edge of burning myself out

2007-04-22T19:19:00.000-03:00

These past few days I've been feeling extremely tired. It became a really difficult task to be on time with everything.
I know I have to learn how to deal with everything and work under pessure, but last week was unbearable and exhausting in several ways. I'm one of those persons who always want to solve other people's problems, and feeling unable to do it (especially with my family) makes me feel useless. If we add to this the fact that I cannot help myself to solve my own issues, the feeling is stregthen.
The worst part is that up to this moment, I've considered myself a super-heroine, who could handle many things at the same time without even feeling an inch of tiredness, and suddenly, "out of the blue" I had to accept that I'm nothing else but a human being. What's more, I realized that as such, I feel tired, sick of everything, betrayed, and disappointed by people around me.
I know I'm (in some ways) an obssessive person, who always wants to be the best in everything, but is annoying when you discover your own limitations, especially when you are the only one who refuses to see them.
At this point, I'm in the process of learning many things, and one of the most outrageous one, is learning how to deal with my students' parents' complains. Nobody told me that parents could be such a "pain in the neck".
Since my self-esteem has always been minimal, I've always felt that I'm not good enough in whatever I do. But I hope I could change it some day. All my willingness is put at it. By now, I'm opened to positive criticism, which doesn't mean that I don't feel all the time I could have done everything better. I'm not sitting relaxed waiting for someone who tell me "you can correct this or that".
Although, even when sometimes I feel that I cannot do some things, in the long run, I end up surprising myself when I find out that all my aims have been achieved. The problem is during the process of achievement.
By all the things previously said, I know that sometimes I cannot enjoy the beautiful gift which life itself is.

Their destiny

2007-04-15T15:45:00.000-03:00

I made this slideshow at FreeFlashSlideshow.com.
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"The circle of life moves us all, and even when we are alone, we have to look for it, until we find that great gift of an endless cycle".
This little story, useless for writers to sell books, and to soap operas to gain audience, started on a very cold July morning of 1976, when a pair of young people's illusions decided to create their own circle of life.
On May 15Th, 1951, he was born as the third child of a traditional family. Six years later, on January 19Th, was her turn to have her first world's sight.
He was a traveller who enjoyed every second of his life. She was a princess locked up in a tower.
Twenty-some years later, after her many girlfriends, and her rejection to get married to a doctor, almost by chance...they married to each other. In the meantime, she gave up her medicine studies and he got his accountant's degree.
The first son arrived, with a pair of crooked legs and the freshness of April afternoons. Then, the daughter, with the hurry of those who desperately seek for happiness. Finally, the little boy, as a fresh air breeze, with golden threads crowning his prince's head.
The children grew up without noticing, started school, had their first communion, and were outstanding students in their classes.
One unexpected day, the twenty-one-year-old daughter got married, and the first grandson arrived with a pair of changing little eyes, but overflowed of love.
When time went by, the grandson also grew up, and started school.
Today, almost 31 years later, they can look back an witness the wonderful life they have been living since that day in which they dared to stand up in front of the priest and said: "I DO".
Their house holds now three empty beds, but their home is still intact. Their children make them prouder every day, and never forget checking out if they are OK. The two sons are finally finding their way in life (working in Usuahia at the moment), and the little one is even thinking about starting his own family soon.
They recognize their life as a roller coaster, full of good moments, but also stained in occasions with bad ones. What's more, they have the satisfaction of realizing that they have supported each other's self-development, sometimes being a shoulder to lean on, and sometimes risking everything to find out that everything has been done for the sake of love.
In sickness and in health, for better or worse, they know that they have built up a very special family, which has strong ties and who can count on each other whenever needed. That's why they can sit back, and feel the pleasure of saying that they have done it without any other help than themselves.

My short-sightedness

2007-04-13T09:57:00.000-03:00

I was six years old when my 1rst grade teacher discovered that I had some problems copying things from the board. I remember vividly that whenever I had the chance to arrive at school before my classmates, I went straight to the first row, and I used to cry a lot when that unknown woman (my teacher) made me sit at the end of the classroom (I was as tall as an oak tree).
It took only a week until my dear "Miss Mary" realized that I had a sightseeing problem. At the beginning, I couldn't understand clearly my parents sad faces when they talked to my teacher. In fact, the first thing that came to my mind was: "What have I done wrong?".
As days passed and everyone treated me as if I were about to die, I was really happy because I was the only one with glasses in my class.
I still save my first pair of glasses, which happened to be undestroyable, and whenever I see them now, I think how ugly they are!! The thing was that they were the only ones available for my size, glasses thickness , and my parents wallet (mainly).
It was funny how I used to feel that I was a special little person, just for being handicapped in some way.
When years went by, I experienced all kind of feelings towards my short-sightness. From feeling special, I started to reject my glasses when I was in my fifth grade. One day, without noticing, I sat on my glasses and they were destroyed. Since I didn't want to use them, I said to my mother that I didn't need them anymore. Two years later, I have doubled my myopia and astigmatism, and my parents (obviously) wanted to kill me.
The doctor ordered many studies, and the results were undeniable. Due to the effort I had to do to see something which was far from me, I could have lost my sight. From then on, I have always wore my glasses.
When I finished secondary school I tried contact lenses, but even when I had them for four years, I could never get accustomed to those intruders in my beautiful bright brownish eyes. That was when my parents asked about surgery, but since it was really expensive, my mother's practical mind spoke the moment she said: "Get married to a wealthy man, and ask him to pay your surgery".
I did not marry to a wealthy man, but I know for sure that given the case, he is willing to pay for my eyes to be fixed. The issue here, is that I'm not really convinced (yet) to abandon something that is part of me, and it has been my style mark for twenty-two years.

My life limited by two pink stripes

2007-04-12T07:46:00.000-03:00

Five years ago, a cold, but sunny day of July, I found out that I was pregnant. I started calling my husband, then my mom and I wanted to scream it out loud to the world.
When I called my father, he was not at his office and I left a message on his machine saying: "Hi grandpa, prepare yourself to have two grandchildren". He called me back twenty minutes later...crying. MY FATHER WAS CRYING. He was as happy as I was, he couldn't speak at all, he tried lots of times to express himself with words, but it was a really overwhelming emotion that wouldn't let him speak. In the end, he managed to say, "I'm so happy, I cannot speak now, we have to celebrate the news". Of course, I was crying as much as he was because I never imagined such a reaction.
The point is that all our illusions vanished twelve days later, when my doctor said that I had an ectopic pregnancy (the baby was not in my uterus, but in my left fallopian tube) and I neded urgent surgery to remove the fetus. The worst part is that at that moment, I was actually seeing my baby's heartbeating.
Even today, I cannot explain to myself how is it that many women lived what I lived, and could overcome it in almost no time. Why not me? Why is it that I cannot let it go?
After surgery, my doctor recommended me not to get pregnant for the following six months, and I had no problems because at that time I wouldn't like to live the same thing again.
More or less one year later, my husband and me decided to stop using birth control methods and try again to have a second child, but we didn't have any results. I changed doctors so many times that I cannot remember even their faces, and none of them could found a "problem".
Now, four years have passed, I have a doctor who makes me lots of studies every month, but we cannot find any significant obstacle. He said that even when I have only one fallopian tube working properly, I can get pregnant as every other woman in the world.
Since July, 2006, I've been doing a low complex treatment, which included taking some pills every month to stimulate my ovaries, but I had to stop it because I had ovarian cysts due to their over-stimulation.
Another door was closed, and I could only think about life unfairness. Why is it that so many women kill their babies with abortions, and I cannot get pregnant? Why we can find women with more children than they can take care of, and cannot? Why, why, why?
Every month when I have my period, I suffer my illusion's death, and even though I'm exhausted, I cannot stop thinking about it. And the two pink stripes refuse to appear in every pregnancy test I take.
Last month I bought an ovulation test called "evaplan" which has the same procedure as pregnancy tests, but it can tell you when you have your major fertility period. This month I cannot find the two pink stripes, and is depressing to be just a witness of my monthly incapability to get pregnant.
I always have hope and wait to see good results, but as I clearly said before, the real problem is the anxiety that I feel while waiting.
Life smiles at you, until it stops...and then smiles again in vicious circle. Every day, I'm just waiting to see my life smiling at me in relation to this topic, because I'm fully aware of the many smiles I received in other aspects of my life.

Smile though your heart is breaking

2007-04-10T16:20:00.000-03:00

Sometimes we feel that desperation is stronger than any other feeling, thinking all the time that there’s no way out.
Well, it’s not always neither as tragic nor as never-ending as we believe. In my opinion, everything is a matter of time. The real problem comes while waiting, due to the anxiety produced by the waiting itself.
Phrases like “don’t worry, it’s not that bad” or “the problem is that you are losing perspective” seem to be annoying, but even when we cannot see it, they are (almost 99% of the times) true.
For so many years I’ve been a professional “worrier”, I’ve been “pre-occupied” in things which might have never been an “occupation” at all, and of course, that’s a tiring way of living. The thing is that I was with a huge smile drawn on my face twenty-four-seven, and in the end, to smile though my heart was breaking, was not as good as Streisand’s song says.
Every person has to release in some way the pressure that they feel. It’s unimportant if you do it by crying, screaming, or just saying what you think. The key factor is that you have to give up hanging on while trying to be a superhero. After all, every superhero has a frailty or a weak side, Superman with his kryptonite, for example.
I used to think that I could do everything, and help everyone with their own search of happiness, without feeling tired. I suffered a humongous frustration the day I realised (psychotherapist in between), that even when I gave my best effort to support the idea, I was not an octopus, and I couldn’t please anyone if I wasn’t happy with myself.
I’m still working on that, because it’s not easy. After living (4 years ago) a harsh year, I started suffering from stress, due to the fact that I thought I had to be “ok” to put my shoulder to the situation (I was seeing my family falling apart). I reached to the point of suffering from anxiety attacks when I had to face someone’s judgment about me. At the beginning, it was all related with exams at university, but after some time, it became a dreadful fear to go outside my house.
Now, looking back, I think that all this happened because I smiled though my heart was breaking, and I was truly unable to face the truth of being nothing else but a simple human being.

Writing the wrong word endless times

2007-04-06T12:33:00.000-03:00

My mother has always been one of those persons who tries too hard to be good at something. It never mattered what was the thing, because from the day she was born, she's been suffering from the "middle-child-syndrome" (it is believed that those children receive less attention than their siblings).
After getting married with a man who was not approved by her family, she found the perfect way of receiving recognition for her achievements... when she became a mother.
She was absolutedly determined to have the best-educated, cleanest and perfect-at-school children, and of course she devoted herself to that job.
She started penalizing us (my brothers and me) if we had our clothes dirty, she didn't allow us to eat sweets when we were with our "fancy clothes", and if we happened to fall when running, she was more concerned with the fabric of our pants not being torn, than with the injury we had in our knees.
Of course, she was a really proud mother when people mentioned how nice children we were, but we never paid attention to that.
When we started school, things got worse.
My older brother was a hyperactive monster at home but a saint at school. I was a rebel four-eyed-princess with pony tails on both sides of my head and my younger brother was a beautiful baby that I didn't like, just because he had the bad idea of "arriving" two days before my birthday (I asked my mother to send him back to the place where he came from).
The thing is that my mother lost her temper, quite easily, every day when my older brother and me came back from school. Her punishment was exhausting but fruitful. Every word or phrase that we wrote with a spelling mistake or was hardly understood (for bad handwriting) we had to write it endless times. Depending on my mother's mood, sometimes we had to repeat the word up to the middle of the page. Although, when the mistake was an error, we knew that the repetition became much longer (on both sides of the page).
Now, twenty-two years later, I can see myself sitting with my legs hanging from the chair, and drawing imaginary circles on the air, crying my eyes out while writing the repetitions. By my side, my brother was doing the same as me... but he was also trying (at any cost) to console my sad childish soul.
In any case, I have to accept that even when the punishment was tiring, my brother and me have always had an understandable and neat handwriting, with almost no mistakes, which is not the case of my younger brother, who (being 23 years old) still writes as a six-year-old-child, and has to ask many times before writing a word to avoid making mistakes.
The only problem is that my mother (now grandmother) still sustains the hope of saying one day that her children are perfect, longing to experience the satisfaction and receive recognitions for a well-done job.

50-word piece on myself

2007-04-05T16:20:00.000-03:00

Married with one son, working, studying and without much domestic help, I am trying to discover how am I going to fullfil my expectations this year. The good part is that I have already achieved four (out of five) goals before my 30's. Just as I thought ten years ago.

Wednesday, April 4th, 2007

2007-04-04T09:03:00.000-03:00

Not knowing how to write something is workable, but not having anything to say...could become your worst enemy.
Sometimes we feel that a blank page is threatening us because we don't know how to start writing, but in the end, thoughts start flowing from "somewhere" and we can only feel the satisfaction of having said what we wanted to say. The problem comes when we cannot find ourselves writing about anything, either because we are not accustomed to, or just because we have never been good at writing even in our native language.
In my case, writing is not an every day thing, but a stream of inspiration that strikes me from time to time. For example, my last birthday was memorable, because I was like sailing through the sky (I still don't know why, because I became one year older and I find it reeeeealy depressing) and I truly wanted to share my thoughts with the world. I recalled what my mother told me about the day I was born, where my father was, and how I was feeling when I looked back to the life I've lived so far.
When giving a moment of reflection to the reason why I don't write every day, I have to recognize that sometimes I don't write, just because of lazyness, and I've discovered that writing is the only thing I don't do due to that reason.
Writing a journal can be helpful at times, but it can also become a routine, and that's why when all of my friends had their beautiful Barbie journals, with a special lock to keep away nosy brothers...I always prefered to read a book or do whatever I wanted, without thinking that at the end of the day I would have to write it down in paper. Besides, my mother was so obsessed with having "perfect at school" children, that she used to make us (me and my brothers) write the same word many, many times (one word with a spelling mistake= one full page of repetitions) until we "internalized" the correct way, and at the end of the day I was tired enough to avoid, at any cost, having to touch a pencil or a blank page.
I really hope that one day, with my blog's help, I will be able to untie my thoughts completely, giving myself the chance to express everything I store in my heart and mind at a minimum cost... and more important, without having to go back to my therapist to seek help for my (now sporadic) anxiety attacks.
This is nice...I hope I can enjoy the ride