I once was a writer...

Barranquilla--my home --has many names: the Golden Gate of Colombia, the Capital of the Atlantic Republic, Curramba The Beautiful (kinda lame translation for Curramba La Bella ), The Sandy (yet another lame translation for La Arenosa )... but Barranquilla is mostly known for it's Carnival. Declared a Masterpice of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO in 2003, my Carnival (well, the Carnival of Barranquilla) is a BIG DEAL. Unfortunately, two events make me have nothing but bad memories of this world-reknowned event; they are the reason why I celebrate 12 years of not going to a Carnival. The first one involved a death in the family around this time of year (Carnival is celebrated in late February), and the other one involved many drunk people and a cigarrette burn. You see, people drink a lot during the Carnival. Ok, people drink a lot anywhere, anytime (it's 5 o'clock somewhere, right?), but they do more so during the 4 days of Carnival. Though I have no...

I think I'm nice to have around, and I think I can hold conversations with almost anyone because I have many things to talk about, and I am also (sometimes, and kinda) a good listener. So, if someone wants to talk about food, I can do that. I am no expert, no chef and no studied connoseur , but I can keep the conversation going on for a while. Same thing goes for politics and science. I love to talk about literature, because I feel that in that particular topic, most of the time I know what I'm talking about. I can talk to people who are less educated on certain subjects than I am, making me the "main" speaker, so to say; but I just love talking to people who are way smarter than I am, because I feel like I learn from them. However, I am not one to talk just for the sake of talking. I remember I went to a party once, and was shocked to see people smoking marihuana. I was shocked because I am a prude when it comes to drugs; cigarrette and alcohol, I can handle. But...

What I did today: I showered this morning, and then I went and got all dirty at the gym. I brushed my teeth, then I ate. I washed all the dishes, and then I had breakfast using the same dishes. I burnt 200 calories, and then ate 200 calories. I washed my gym clothes and then used my gym clothes. I hydrated my hair with a super-duper coconut massage thingy, and then blow-dried my hair. I deposited some money, and then I transfered and spent some money. I left home, and I came back home. So, if everything I did today was also un-done, what did I do today? Paradox...

Dear Reporters and Journalists in the World: I hereby sincerely request--beg, even--that you stop asking stupid questions, because your public does not want obvious answers. And stupid questions almost always bring about obvious answers, if not stupid answers in themselves. Really, Mrs. and Mrs. Reporters and Journalists, you have to consider that maybe--just maybe--your audience is not a 5th-grade-education level inept adult; maybe, just maybe, your audience isa university-level adult who yearns to understand situations with facts and figures. You see, Reporters and Journalists of the World, I have been following the liberations of kidnapped people in my country, and I am appalled at the interviews! I can no more believe the questions, as I can believe that some editor/director approved them to be aired! When a freed person is ready for an interview, "How does that make you feel?" is not an appropriate question. Dude, seriously, how do you think freedom after 3 months ...

I call it "Living in Sin" because I find the term hilarious; but no one that I know (I, personally, face to face, myself) calls, refers to, or thinks of it as a "Sin", much less "Living" in one. I've been living with Honey for almost 7 months now. It's his first time living with a girl, his first time living with a roommate, his first time living with his girlfriend. He seems to be adapting quite well to the situation, and I salute him for putting up with me. We had a "situation" a couple of years ago, and I of course ran home. When my Dad asked what had happened, and I explained that Honey had broken up with me (although that time I think I was the one doing the breaking-up, still, I said he broke up with me ), he said, "I'm not surprised; you're a pain in the ass!" My Dad, who btw is not particularly nuts about Honey, agreed with him in the breaking up decision, because I  am a pain in the ass. So, Honey, congratulat...

I was in the waiting room of Honey's dentist, going through many pages of Apps on my iPhone, when I came accross a quotes App, and saw this one: We should be careful to get out of an experience only the wisdom that is in it -- and stop there; lest we be like the cat that sits down on a hot stove-lid. She will never sit down on a hot stove-lide again -- and that is well; but also she will never sit down on a cold one anymore. Mark Twain I read it several times. And after I got over being offended about the fact that he was identified as an "American humorist", as if his brilliant quote should be dismissed as a simple joke, I was amazed by the simplicity and profoundness of the idea.  We always talk about experiences, and what we learn from them. But what we "learn" from them is merely what happened. The cat sat on a lid and got burnt. Period. That cat will never sit down on any lid again. Period. And as he says, it's good that the cat won't get burnt ...

Me (at 11 p.m., two hours past our bedtime): Honey, I want a big bed, like the one we used to have in Colombia. Honey: This one is bigger than the one you used to have in Colombia. Me: That bed was a 2 x 2 meter bed. This is 1.4 x 1.9 meter bed. Honey: I meant the one you used to have. Me: How is this one bigger? That one was also a 1.4 x 1.9 meter bed. Honey: This one is bigger. Me: Honey, 1.4 meters is 1.4 meters regardless of where you are in the world. Honey (half asleep, and not really realizing what he was saying--I hope!): People there are smaller, so the beds seem bigger. Me: Well, yes, maybe. But I was the one sleeping on my 1.4 x 1.9 meter bed in Colombia, and I am the one sleeping in this 1.4 x 1.9 meter bed in Germany. Honey: Yes. Everything is bigger in Germany.

Someone said that, in order to write, you need to want to write more than you need to have something to write about . At first, I was amazed by that simple premise, and so decided I would write a novel. You see, there: I want to write. But, alas, that premise was all too simple to begin with. For, although you need to want it first of all, THEN you need to proceed to have something to write about. It’s not just a matter of wanting it and then finding it done the next day on your desktop. I’ve been sitting in front of my computer for about 15 minutes (rocked to the sound of the washing machine, with a kitchen sink filled to the rim with dirty dishes laughing at me) and I have no idea what I want to Blog about. I remember living in Augusta, where every day was a new day. Of course, some better than others. I always woke up asking myself, “What am I doing here?” I never had that question answered. But there was always a new boyfriend (ah, the joys of the American Military…), or a...