Half of a life gone

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For some, or perhaps many of the people in our circles, half of their lives (or more) is now gone – unless they live to be 100 years old. As we say in my country, “chuta o pau da barraca” because it’s NEVER TOO EARLY to do so. I have yet to find an English expression that translates it perfectly. “I prefer to let it loose, and just go bananas …” Well, not really a good translation and I am open for suggestions.

The idea includes different things, such as I no longer care about how much I spend on a nice dinner, or if I have already  dined out three times in the same week. If I don’t spend on something I enjoy I lose the savings in the stock market or with something silly anyway. While most people older than me are just starting to worry about their retirement I am focusing on ending my brief stint on Earth with no more than $25 in my bank account… A friend put it better: your last check should bounce. However, I find there’s no fun buying the newest release of some fancy gadget, or a new car. I realize that I can’t buy true experiences and emotions… They’re not for sale. Okay, you can travel, attend the famous tournaments of your favorite sport, follow your favorite pop star. But I am talking about true experiences and emotions, when you have the guts or the cojones to follow your heart, when you don’t care about the consequences and pursue that emotion so intense that it hurts… and the pain is almost physical, if not excruciating. These experiences can’t be conquered, created, or ordered on Amazon. They just cross your path, by pure chance. It happens to a very few lucky ones. If it falls in your lap, grab it! Even if you can’t keep it, taste it, live it! Those are the kind of experiences you will remember when you are 100 years old, and will make you feel you have lived a life worth living.

Just one of the things I think about these days…

Survival of the fittest

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Some people are such easy prey.

It’s oh so simple to lure them in:

A subtle touch – or the mere seeming promise of one…

A few right words with the right alluring tone…

A mesmerizing look…

A well-crafted smile…

Then the gears engage and the ride takes off…

The rush, the speed, the rollercoaster. And how can anyone be blamed if the riders don’t land in one piece?

Life on the run

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Sometimes you start digging and reach the deepest and darkest corners of your unknown, the real you. The one who keeps you going… You feel an urge to do something bad. An urge that you try to ignore but can’t.  It makes you wonder if you shouldn’t completely withdraw from life for the sake of innocent people.

You want to play and you don’t care if the adversary can handle it. Or if YOU can handle it. Then you will have no choice but to hurt them before you get hurt. Plain self-defense – this is not a crime. But then you give yourself a “guilty” verdict. Life on the run is a very hard life but you will pay the price because it’s worth it!

My dear partners in crime, booze and coffee:

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My life has changed substantially in the past few months. I moved from the very corner of the Southeast to the very corner of the Northwest – Miami to Seattle – with only four days’ notice. After four months I finally feel I have settled into a new routine. I have food in the fridge, four plates and silverware – non-disposable ones. This is huge progress from the set of four glasses of wine that were my first purchase.

Time to get back to my stories!

Or so I thought…

Deep and almost gloomy aspects of the soul and mind I thought were buried forever try to emerge. Now I am stuck in a situation I would describe as the opposite of writer’s block! I find many “me’s” inside myself. Each one with different approaches to crime and punishment. Each one thinking they own the truth. Each one trying to rule my life. When they meet real and imaginary people from the past and present the crash is inevitable.

So, dearest ones, hang in there. Law enforcement needs to put some order in this no man’s land before I can think of my next step.

Mushroom Burial Suits

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Human beings stink. Literally.

Do you know your corpse will start stinking really badly less than 24 hours after you die? And it’s the nastiest stink ever; it’d make anyone puke.

Then you, who tossed compost in the recycle bin and recyclables in the landfill bin your whole life, will keep contaminating the planet with the chemicals your nasty cadaver will release.

But now there is a solution you may soon be seeing on late night infomercials:

Mushroom Burial Suit!

Order now and get a second one free!

But wait! There’s more! Much more! Much much more!!!

If you order within the next 5 minutes we will include a THIRD Mushroom Burial Suit free!

Yes, that’s right! A THIRD Mushroom Burial Suit! Completely free!

And you also get to choose: Portobello, cremini, maitake or the delicious shiitake!!!

Pay just shipping and handling! One size fits all!

Stupid! Why would you need an extra Mushroom Burial Suit?

By the way, if you don’t know what a Mushroom Burial Suit is… Heck, just google it!

A Very Dark Thumb Indeed

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Why don’t plants like me?

Bringing them from Home Depot to the apartment in a small car is a big project, frowned upon by my husband, but I still do it.

I take care of them (whenever I can) and I water them (eventually). In exchange, I wish they would stay healthy and green.

I call my mom and my aunts and my in-laws and do all they tell me to do, but they still rebel against me. Now they decide they don’t want to stay straight up. Look:

IMG_1799 IMG_1800

I Want to be That Old Couple

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As time goes by, human beings dwell more and more on the significance of the thoughts that seem to accompany them at each specific stage of their life.

In the stages of my live I’ve dwelled on, wondered and worried about — and analyzed, and over-analyzed —  my obsessions with school, career, sex, love, boyfriends, husbands, the size of a burger, the color of the sky, the sexual life of bugs, being too nice or too bitchy, whether to buy a house or a bike, the direction of the stock market, the fate of the planet, the plight of a far away nation, whether I should eat a salad or a steak, or enjoy some booze or coffee.

Lately, I have been thinking about getting old and dying. And, when you’ve been thinking about a particular issue, you become more observant about how that theme plays out through the life surrounding you at that particular moment. I was having brunch with my husband at this nice bistro by the water on a bright, crisp Sunday morning when THEY arrived. They were a lovely old couple, supporting each other through each frail step. They sat at the table across from us. They possessed that singular trait of two people who know and love each other and will do so forever. They smiled and laughed through the entire brunch, well-pleased with their fresh croissants and warm coffee. And they talked and they listened to each other. Not once did they look bored or at a loss for a topic to converse about. There they were… the antithesis to the surrounding customers who seemed to have become terminally joined to their e-gadgets and oblivious to the crisp morning and to each other.

I wished they could be the reflection of my husband and I down the road… after we are done bugging each other and arguing about who does the laundry or the dishes or how much we should tip the server.

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