A veces, más que un abrazo, más que un beso, más que una caricia, lo que necesitamos es simplemente una palabra. 

Una sola palabra -o varias- que vayan más allá del contacto físico. 

Y hay pocas, muy pocas personas quienes son capaces de acallar nuestro llanto, nuestras inseguridades y nuestros miedos con esa arma. 

¿Quienes son esas personas?
¿Los amigos?
¿La familia?
¿Los amantes?

Durante el año 2007 me han pasado muchas cosas.

Me he enfrentado a una depresión y la he superado.
Me he enamorado. 
Me he enfrentado a mi madre y hemos salido ganando ambas. 
He ido a Japón, he cumplido uno de mis sueños. 
He empezado segundo de carrera con mis amigos/as. 
Me han aceptado en Sophia, Tokyo. 

En definitiva: ha sido un año movidito, lleno de baches y caminos rectos, de lágrimas, risas... 
Ha sido uno de mis mejores años, uno de los años que he vivido con más intensidad. 
He descubierto qué es la vida. 

¿Y este 2008?

Es sólo el comienzo... 

 TOKYO'S SOPHIA UNIVERSITY

Cuando Einstein propuso este acertijo dijo que el 98% de la población mundial no seria capaz de resolverlo.

Personalmente creo que no es tan complicado encontrar la solución, es solo cuestión de tiempo y dedicación.

El acertijo dice así:

Tenemos 5 casas de cinco colores diferentes y en cada una de ellas vive una persona de una nacionalidad diferente. 
Cada uno de los dueños bebe una bebida diferente, fuma una marca de cigarrillos diferente y tiene una mascota diferente.

Tenemos las siguientes claves:

• El británico vive en la casa roja.
• El sueco tiene un perro.
• El danés toma té.
• La casa verde esta a la izquierda de la blanca.
• El dueño de la casa verde toma café.
• La persona que fuma Pall Mall tiene un pájaro.
• El dueño de la casa amarilla fuma Dunhill.
• El que vive en la casa del centro toma leche.
• El noruego vive en la primera casa.
• La persona que fuma Brends vive junto a la que tiene un gato.
• La persona que tiene un caballo vive junto a la que fuma Dunhill.
• El que fuma Bluemasters bebe cerveza.
• El alemán fuma prince.
• El noruego vive junto a la casa azul.
• El que fuma Brends tiene un vecino que toma agua.

Y por ultimo la pregunta:

¿Quién es el dueño del pececito? 

This story has no title, because I invented it on the spur of a moment.

You see, I am not even sure why I am writing this down, but my wife insisted (she said it was brilliant). So here I am, in front of my wife's computer typing away words I said once for the sake of my youngest son.

It had started simply enough, though. It was about 2am when my son, Alan, woke me up screaming bloody murder. Of course, I was worried and ran to check up on him. In my panic, I thought a burglar might have attacked my son. It was nothing of the sort, thankfully. It was just a bad nightmare.  

Alan is a young boy (in a week he will be 7 years old) but a brave one, so it rather startled me when I found him curled up in bed, pale and drenched in cold sweat. I rushed over and asked him if he was okay, and when he didn't answer I took him into my arms and carried him inside the kitchen where I made some hot cocoa and coaxed him into drinking it (he can be stubborn like my wife). He then apologized and asked if he could sleep with me.

Since my wife was out and Alice, my daughter, was staying overnight at a friend’s, I told him it was okay as long as he did not get used to it. He nodded bravely. We went to bed and I covered him with the blankets. When I leaned to kiss his forehead and wish him a good night, I felt he had a fever. That scared me because Alan had always been prone to illnesses and my wife wasn’t there (she’s the medical expert). But my boy didn’t look like he was agonizing, so I relaxed and embraced him, waiting for sleep to claim him (maybe he’ll be better off tomorrow, I remember thinking).

I waited for about half an hour. I was about to fall asleep myself, but I noticed his eyes wouldn’t close. When I asked him if anything was wrong he replied that he couldn’t sleep.

“Well, you’re going to have to, Alan. You’ve got school tomorrow”

“Mom said I cannot go because I’m sick again” He answered. I wondered why she hadn’t told me anything of this.

“Oh. But anyway, you’re going to have to sleep”

“I can’t” He whined

“You’re way too young to have insomnia”

“Mom always tells me a story”

I stared. My wife has a wonderful talent with children, she knows how to take care of them and children love her, and she also is a great storyteller… which I am not. I tried to reason with Alan, but he wouldn’t bulge. I hoped he’d may fall asleep before it got too complicated…

"This, my son, happened a long, long time ago, you know? More or less… at the same time as the Sleeping Beauty story. You remember that one, Alan? Right, of course you do" I said, a bit embarrassed when my son raised an eyebrow (something I haven't learned to do in my 35 years of age).

"And what happened?" He asked when I didn't continue. Startled, I shrugged.

"I don't know, son. You tell me, what do you think what happened?" He stared.

"You're the one telling the story"

I thought hard. As I said, I was never good when it came to storytelling, I usually stuck to a book and read it out loud; but this time I was already too comfortable and way too lazy to get up and search for one...

And I thought writing was an easy profession...

"Alright; you see, there was once a young prince who lived in the biggest castle ever. But you know what? In a month, he was to be king! But he couldn't because he was always sick. Chickenpox, mumps, colds… And you surely know that a prince must be strong and healthy”

“And why was he always sick?” Alan asked.

“Because… err… you are”

“Me?” He asked, flabbergasted.

“Of course!” I chided him, patting him in the back when he started coughing. A bit worried, I kissed his forehead, concerned when I felt his fever had not lowered yet. Well, it hadn’t gone up either and he was curious enough. He looked sleepy, too.

“Hum…” When I felt him shiver, I hugged him closer to myself and winced when I touched his freezing feet.

“Alan, do you know why he was always ill?” I asked, sarcastically (not that a kid like him would be able to understand the pun, no matter how intelligent). He looked at me blankly and I sighed. “His feet were always cold! He lost his pair of socks when he became 5 (he was 7 years old, by the way) and since then his feet had been freezing!”

“That’s why he was sick?!”

“Well, yes. It’s important that your feet are warm, you know?” He looked at me sceptically “Trust me, kid, I’m your father”

“Mom tells me not to listen to you because you are kidding half of the time”

I blinked and grinned. That’s my Christina.

“Well, mom has left to see grandma, so it’s not like you have a choice” He nodded in understanding “Anyway, he had lost his socks and had to find them before becoming a King, which would happen in a week”

“And why didn’t he BUY a new pair of socks? Surely there were stores…”

“Err…” Alright, so the kid got me there “They were Magic Socks. When he was born, there was this Fairy who lived in the forests. The Fairy was a good friend of the family and she was delighted when the prince was born, so she knitted the socks to present the child with. The family was very happy”

“And how come he lost those socks…?”

“Hum…” I really started getting into the story now, because I was remembering anecdotes that actually did happen, and the story came easily then “You see, one day, when he was five years old, he went out into the Enchanted Forest with his older sister –the Princess– to play. They stayed out way too long, though, and it got dark and they got lost…! The Princess then tripped and sprained her ankle”

“But then they couldn’t have gone back home, right?” He asked, in sudden alarm. I knew he still remembered the day Alice sprained her own ankle playing with him in the park. They were alone and couldn’t walk back. My wife and I got worried, and we found them there, both crying hysterically.

“Oh, they were both scared alright. And the Fairy was on a vacation in Hawaii, so she couldn’t help either…!” I grinned, my son was listening to me with widened eyes “And they got scared and started crying. But they were lucky, because there was a Unicorn around there and the Unicorn heard them. When he saw the problem, he offered to help the Prince and the Princess under one condition: he wanted the Prince’s socks”

“Unicorn’s can’t wear socks!”

“… But this one could, because he was a Magical Creature”

“Magical or not, Unicorn’s don’t have feet, dad!”

“But the socks were magical as well, so they could transform to fit” He couldn’t reply to that, so I continued “and because they were so scared and tired and hungry, the Prince accepted”

“That is how he lost his socks!”

“Exactly. And because he gave those socks to the Unicorn, he brought them back to their Castle”

“But the Prince needed them…”

“Exactly, he was too sickly. And you see, the Princess, who knew all of this, decided she had to help her brother. She got up the week before the Prince’s birthday, packed a knapsack full of her own magical items and dressed up like a boy servant so she could get out of the castle”

“Like Alice did one day, when she left to Trick or Treat?”

I grinned and nodded. Alan was yawning, but he seemed to want to hear the rest of the story, so I humoured him.

“So she entered the Enchanted Forest on her own, but so she would not get lost she made a path of stones and she watched her steps. The castle panicked when they noticed the Princess wasn’t with them anymore, but they weren’t able to find her. And she walked through the forest for two days, and only rested to eat and sleep until she finally met the Unicorn, who was drinking water from a beautiful lake.

‘Oh, Master Unicorn, here I am to beg thee’ she exclaimed, bowing.

‘Who are you and what do you wish to say to me?’ replied the Unicorn.

‘I am the Princess of the Kingdom!’ she said, putting away her cap and showing her long, golden tresses.

After the Princess explained her problem and Unicorn told her that he wouldn’t give back the socks, the Princes started to cry and got to her knees, pleading until the end of the day. The Unicorn finally relented and dried her tears with his muzzle.

‘Why? Why will thy not grant me with this one wish, for the sake of my younger brother, soon to be king?! He needs these magical socks, for he is too ill to rule without them!’

‘I am afraid there is nothing I can do… It is true that I have met that young child and he proved he would be a good king the moment he sacrificed his socks for your wellbeing… But you will have to give me something in return’

‘What will it be?!’ The Princess said.

‘You must give me something special in return’

And so the Princess got to her knees and opened her knapsack. She took out her magical comb which turned her hair gold, her magical ring which allowed her to speak with magical animals, her magical locket which banned all nightmares…

‘Oh, no, Princess’ exclaimed the Unicorn ‘It is not those items that I desire’

‘What is it, then? I will find it!’

‘No, my Princess. It is your hair I desire’

‘You desire my hair?’

‘Yes. You have beautiful locks of golden hair, and that is what I desire’

More than happy to oblige, without thinking it twice, she braided her long hair and knotted it with a beautiful pink ribbon. Then, she cut it with a dagger and, with a reverence, presented it to the Unicorn. The Unicorn bowed, his eyes shining with emotion for this was true love between siblings, and accepted the gift. He then gave the socks back.

The princess ran back home and almost did not make it on time. She got lost more than once, but the birds would show her way back home.

When she arrived we was tired and hungry, and her family and kingdom were hysterical, but she did not care. She ran to her brother’s room and she saw him on his bed, pale and tired and sick, at the brink of death.

‘Brother!’ scared and worried, crying, she ran to his side and grasped his hand.

‘Sister…?’

‘Yes, I came back! I found them! I found your socks! You will be well again, my brother!’

And so she pulled the covers and discarded the old pair of non-magical socks and put on his, the one he had given to save their lives a long time ago.

And…”

I had been so enthusiastic with this story I really didn’t notice that Alan had fallen asleep. I sighed, a bit disappointed until I heard someone clapping slightly. I startled. It was Christina, who was looking at me from the entrance of the room, leaning against the wall with a big and beautiful smile on her face.

“And what happened next?” She asked me.

I shrugged, trying not to wake Alan.

“Well, I suppose the Prince became a good King”

“And what about the Princess?”

“She married a wonderful King of another Kingdom. Her hair grew long and beautiful again…”

After that, my wife and I fell asleep. This morning, she insisted that I write this while she took Alan to the doctor and picked Alice up from her friend’s.

This thing is… I just can’t find an appropriate ending. I’ll ask my wife later, she’s way better than me when it comes to these things, as I’m sure you might have noticed.

Stray! Stray!



In the cold breeze that I walk along


The memories of generations burn within me


Been forever since I cried the pain and sorrow


I live and die, proud of my people gaining





I'm here standing at the edge


Starin up at where the moon should be





Stray!


No regrets 'cause I got nothin to lose


Ever stray!


So I'm gonna live my life as I choose



Until I fall...




Stray! Stray!






Hace muchísimo que no actualizo nada. Y estaba escuchando esta canción y....
Estado: Estudiando como una loca. 

Cuando uno se imagina lo que va a pasar, se prepara mentalmente. 
Cuando uno se imagina lo que va a pasar, cree que así no le dolerá tanto. 

Puede que no duela tanto. Pero la desilusión sigue estando ahí. 
Y la desilusión duele a su manera. 
Y duele mucho. 

Yo ya me imaginaba que no ganaría ese concurso. Es más, SABÍA que no lo ganaría. 
Pero aún así, me puede. 

Cuando uno piensa en sus propias experiencias, a veces no puede evitar soltar una carcajada o simplemente una mera sonrisa, o una lágrima o todo un llanto, o enojarse o puede que enfadarse...

Cuando yo pienso en las mías de hace un año, cuando ni el día más radiante me animaba...
Me doy cuenta de que eso forma parte de mi vida. Y he aprendido de ello.
Gracias a mis experiencias, a lo que me hace reír, llorar o enfadar cuando lo pienso... soy quién soy. Y estoy orgullosa de mí misma. 

((Vuelvo a tener internet))

Caos y orden.
Dos palabras al parecen antónimas, pero que no lo es tanto si lo piensas bien... 

Yo, por ejemplo, me considero una persona caótica pero ordenada. ((Cualquiera que vea el estado de mi habitación diría que sólo soy lo primero...))

Soy caótica porque no sé mantener las cosas en orden.
Soy ordenada porque dentro del caos, sé cómo las cosas están ordenadas. 

En el fondo, todo es eso. Todo es caos. Todo el orden.
¿No es el mundo una armonía perfecta?

((Vuelvo a estar sin internet en mi pc))

Ahora que tengo un trabajo y debo levantarme cada mañana obligatoriamente, muchas veces me pregunto cuál es la diferencia tan GRANDE que percibo ahora con el pasado.

¿Es la diferencia tan grande? Yo creo que no. Es mi imaginación quién me juega malas pasadas, no lo dudo.

Siempre he tenido que levantarme temprano porque tenía que ir al "cole" o incluso a la "uni" (pese a que a veces... se me olvidaba), pero ahora tengo una sensación que me dice que no es lo mismo que antes. Y no porque es un TRABAJO (y no porque cobre por ir, y no tenga que pagar)...

Creo que es por culpa de ese sentimiento de "cambio". He dado un paso. No sé qué clase de paso exactamente, pero un paso importante.

A veces el pasado y el presente se enterlazan. 
A veces el pasado y el presente son dos mundos totalmente distintos.