Random thoughts

Smokers have the opportunity, even in busy days, to make a short break from life every couple of hours, and simply let thoughts come to their minds. These "smoker area" or "smoker break" thoughts, can be split into two groups: The first group are thoughts that provide a new and different perspective to the events of the day. The second group are random thoughts, non-related to anything, and that simply pop up in the smoker's mind out of the blue.

Having had a busy (and also annoying) day at work today, I spent quite some time between meetings outside, in the "fresh" air, and some of the thoughts that came to my mind surprised me greatly. I thought about vacation time. Shortly before going to my parents' for Christmas I had decided to go to a long-5 week long- trip to India. India is a country that requires travellers to be mentally strong to deal with the cultural challenges, it is a big country that requires time, and also a country of contrasts. As a travel-lover I am, I am thrilled to go to India, and I am also aware that it is a trip that will require investments in time, freedom and money from my side.

Now, roughly two months later, I am hesitating on this trip. I want to go, sure, but I am not sure I am willing any longer to invest everything necessary to enjoy it. While smoking today I started realizing what has changed in me in these past months, that could have caused this crazyness in me. I have started to grow up. SCARY! The thought of having my own house, and some stability in my life is gaining importance. When confronted with the "out of the blue" question, if I would rather spend the money of the trip in a savings account intended for a down payment, or in the trip, the savings account wins. (I am also considering quitting smoking and use the smoking money to buy an X3, my dream car!) This means I am not convinced I want to make the money investment, one out of three.

The next realization that came to my mind was time. Although it is true that for the life I am living I am young, I have the feeling age is taking over, and I need to work harder on my career now that I have the possibility, instead of leaving the office for 5 weeks in a row and disconnecting so much, that I won't be able to deliver immediately after arrival. Every day that goes by I struggle more and more disconnecting from work, and simply living my life, and the thought of not working for such a long period scares me, and makes me wonder if I will be risking anything at work, or my entire career. After all, if my project can move on for 5 weeks without me involved, it can go on without me, and the question of whether I am really contributing arises. This is the second out of the three investments I am unsure to make.

Freedom is the third investment. I am free, and my self preservation instinct is not yet fully active so I can still afford to do random irresponsible stuff and not think about the possible consequences. However, since I stopped wearing my ring at my parents' in Colombia, I have started wondering if it is the right time in life to stop being so lonely and self sufficient, and give myself another opportunity with somebody. Although there are no candidates, my brain is telling me I should not insist anymore in being self sufficient, and should start recognizing that sharing a common objective with somebody, getting to agreements to make things work, and simply enjoying the possibilit of once in a while not depending only in myself is a better option of life than what I have now. I have to ask myself if my brain is telling me I am willing to do such a thing in the near future, or if it is only informing me that at some point I will, but, regardless of the reason, the thought is there, and with it the willingness to preserve my freedom for the trip is also not convincing for my own standards.

Now what? I think quitting smoking would be the first step, so I don't get the chance to come to these thoughts and analyze my life. And the question of whether I should make the trip or not remains open, awaiting a decision that I am not sure I want to come. This is my last opportunity to make this trip, before all the thoughts that have started assaulting me turn into reality, and all I can think of is I'm not sure.

Recuerdos

De mi infancia en Colombia, al igual que de mi adolescencia, guardo muy pocos recuerdos. Dependiendo del punto de vista, esta es o no una sabia decisión. Los recuerdos que guardo son en su gran mayoría buenos, y cualquiera que conozca la historia completa, y como fue mi vida en el Colegio Andino, sabe que buenos recuerdos no pueden ser la mayoría, sino probablemente la gran minoría...

Sea como sea, entre mis recuerdos está la novela Las Juanas. Esta novela fue emitida en Colombia en los años 90, y hubo unos episodios que dejaron huella en mi.

Uno de esos memorables capítulos es el matrimonio de las Juanas, día en que la guerrilla planeaba atacar Corozal, y decidió no hacerlo ya que se casaban las Juanas. Esta actitud de la guerrilla me dió esperanza, que llegará el día en que el conflicto armado termine, ya que si la violencia y los ataques pueden dejar de ser en festividades, también pueden dejar de ser en días comunes y corrientes.

El segundo capítulo que dejó huella en mí es la marcha del amor, día en que las Juanas, junto con todo Corozal, se manifestaron juntos contra el Diablo y lo expulsaron del pueblo. La canción, tomada de un poema atribuido a Rudyard Kipling, la recuerdo aún hoy, mas de 10 años después, y cuando me siento desfallecer acudo a ella en busca de valor:

" Cuando vayan mal las cosas

como a veces suelen ir,
cuando ofrezca tu camino
sólo cuestas que subir,
cuando tengas mucho haber
pero mucho que pagar,
y precises sonreír
aun teniendo que llorar,
cuando ya el dolor te agobie
y no puedas ya sufrir,
descansar acaso debes
pero nunca desistir.
Tras las sombras de la duda,
ya plateadas ya sombrías,
puede bien surgir el triunfo,
no el fracaso que temías,
y no es dable a tu ignorancia
figurarse cuan cercano,
puede estar el bien que anhelas
y que juzgas tan lejano,
lucha, pues por más que en la
brega tengas que sufrir.
¡Cuando todo esté peor,
más debemos insistir!"

1002 days

It has been now almost 3.5 years since I got to Germany, and started working here. Since my first day at work, 1278 days have gone by, out of which I have been 90 on vacation and around 186 on vacation. This leaves 1002 work days.

I look back at those 1002 days, to find highlights, special days and events, surprises (good or bad ones), and I can't find them. Is work really like this? Are workdays really always the same?

I can't say everything is always the same, but, sadly, I can't recognize good or bad days any longer. They are all just work days.

When I wake up in the early morning, and think what my day will be like, I always hope it will not be a day like any other day, I hope there will be a surprise, maybe a compliment, or a simplification of what I do. I still dream of a life full of adventures, be them on my own or with friends surrounding me, and as time goes by, and I grow older (as I don't seem to grow up), I see how idealistic my goals in life were, and how life is not what I expected it to be.

Today is, as expected, a day like any other: filled with frustration, emails, and the usual.

1002 days of my life I have given up to produce diapers, and during which I have learnt that dreams don't come true, and that, as I had predicted being a sad and lonely teenager, dreaming is the safest way of losing faith in life.

I have 39 years 11 months to go until retirement, this makes aprox. 11210 days left of work, and 11210 days like any other. I wonder how I can make them fun, an adventure of each of them, and start creating an encouraging future, which I cannot see...

Questions, questions, and more questions

It's been a long time since I last sat to write. I've been tempted to do so quite frequently, but work, and life in general have taken over my life.

I wonder often, why I give up those activities that I enjoy the most: learning a language, writting, playing Nintendo, or going for rides on my bike or car.

Is work really that important? Or am I taking that feared and easy route, Marco always warned me not to take? "The easiest way is not always the best way" he used to tell me. Back then we were in college, living in Shelton Hall, and in my case, living new and exciting adventures every day. There were also "bad" days, and those were the days I heard his words.

Years have gone by, Shelton was Sophomore year, 2004-2005, and we have all grown up, at least according to our ID cards...

Why, you might wonder, am I coming back to his words? This is one of the many questions this blogs refers to.

I have gone through hell in the past weeks: Found out about new taxes I have to pay, had to change my main residency, and with it all my paperwork (car, insurance, residency and work permit, etc), got sick with a nose-ear-throat infection, and couldn't afford time off, so flew to Warsaw and worked 12 hours a day while sick. My mom got sick and I had no way of being in touch with my family, my suitcase got lost on the way from Warsaw and I found myself locked out of my apartment, and not to forget, a wasp-nest in my appartment. I even managed to oversee a stop sign while driving and get caught by the police, which, in Germany, is almost impossible.Honestly, can't be to far from hell, or Murphy's world.

Why does this all happen? My boss sometimes laughs and says that he knows I'm not telling lies with all these stories, as noone could come up with all of it. It just happens, life happens.

And just as life happens in the daily situations, and work becomes a safe environment to escape anything else that could be happening, life also happens in other, less evident to the public, aspects.

Being a workoholic I am escaping the loneliness that surrounds me, and the questions that are always on my mind. Work is the easiest route, but is it the safest?

El valor de los excéntricos

Cada día, todos y cada uno de nosotros nos cruzamos con un número considerable de personas: En el colegio, en el trabajo, en la calle, o en un ascensor.
La gran mayoría de estos extraños serán olvidados pocos segundos después del encuentro, mas unos pocos atraerán nuestra atención, y serán recordados por periodos de tiempo mas largos.
Quienes son estos extraños, que permanecen en nuestra memoria, aún sin haber cruzado una palabra con nosotros?
Todos tienen un denominador común: son especiales.
Pero, cómo describir en pocas palabras el ser especial?
Describirlos no es fácil, ya que hay un número indeterminado de formas de ser especial.
La apariencia física y forma de vestir es una de ellas. Si el hombre en la fila de adelante en el teatro mide más de dos metros, al llegar a casa lo recordaremos más fácilmente que si midiera 1,70 metros.
La forma de expresarse es también una característica especial: Aquel que se expresa con un lenguaje grandilocuente, o con un jergón incomprensible, quedará en nuestra memoria por más tiempo que aquel cuyo lenguaje corresponde a lo que nosotros consideramos común.
Una forma más de ser especial es siendo excéntrico, siendo un "Aussensteher". Y es precisamente este grupo aquel al que con mayor firmeza y dureza juzgamos.
Un exéntrico es con frecuencia el blanco de burlas, ó de lástima, y en unas pocas oportunidades, un ser admirado. Ejemplos de excéntricos son los "nerds" y los hermitaños, y en algunos lugares, las personas que provienen de una cultura diferente, e incomprendida.
La pregunta que surge es entonces, qué factores determinan si un excéntrico entra en el grupo de burlas, o de lástima, o en el de admiración?
Asumiendo una escala del 1 al 5, en el que 1 corresponde a blanco de burlas, y 5 a centro de admiración, los excéntricos que obtienen un 5 son generalmente muy cultos e inteligentes. Albert Einstein, y Madame Curie, son ejemplos de este grupo. Los dos fueron excéntricos en su tiempo, pero dejaron un legado a la humanidad, y aún en su época fueron admirados por grupos de la sociedad.
Quienes obtienen un 1 en la escala suelen ser personas tímidas, solitarias, de inteligencia lógico-racional promedio, e inteligencia social baja.
Saberse uno un excéntrico ayuda a sobrellevar las burlas, y las expresiones de lástima, a seguir adelante y a no darse por vencido. Mas ser un excéntrico promedio lleva a grandes incertidumbres, a con frecuencia a lágrimas. Qué valor tenemos para el mundo, quienes somos excéntricos promedio, y por lo tanto ni somos parte real de la sociedad, ni tenemos la capacidad de dejar una huella en el mundo? No hay un valor obvio que pueda ser visto en esta situación.
Somos considerados ejemplos sobre como no guiar una vida? Tenemos una función? Para Aristóteles todos los seres tienden a cumplir una función que les es propia, pero esta no es fácil de ver.
Vivimos en un mundo de clasificaciones, y buscamos, como todos, nuestro lugar y función en la vida. El no encontrar este lugar o función conlleva a sentirnos inútiles, estorbos, y nos puede llevar a considerar diferentes maneras de ponerle fin a la situación. Solo la fortaleza interna, y aquellos a quienes queremos, nos mantienen, y la esperanza de encontrar este lugar.
Que si los excéntricos tienen valor? Sí. lo tienen. Bien sea como seres admirables, o como aquellos que día a día luchan por seguir adelante, y encontrar su lugar.

Airth, Mayo 31, 2010

Infierno

Al buscar la palabra infierno en el Diccionario de la lengua española, encuentra uno el origen de la palabra, y cerca de 11 significados que puede tener, sin incluir los usos idiomáticos que se le puede dar a la palabra.
La pregunta que viene a la mente es, ¿Qué me llevó a buscar esta palabra, cuyo significado puede parecer obvio, en un diccionario?
La primera respuesta que me viene a la mente es que tuve lo que se llama un "Día de Perros", el señor Murphy demostró su omnipotencia, y mi mente me jugó con ello una mala pasada.
De todas las definiciones que el diccionario me ofrece, la primera es la que más aplica:

1. m. Rel. Lugar donde los condenados sufren, después de la muerte, castigo eterno.(https://www.rae.es)

Mi día de perros me llevó de regreso a ese lugar, pero aún no comprendo la condena que estoy pagando.
Al acabar el Colegio e irme de Bogotá, creí haber dejado el infierno atrás: Ya no tenía que madrugar a ver a quienes me acabaron psicológicamente cuando niña, y me hicieron una adolescente insegura, y una adulta hoy en día solitaria. Ya no tendría que, día a día soportar sus burlas, pretendiendo una fortaleza que nunca he tenido, y permitiendo que me "usaran" a su gusto, tan sólo para pasar unas horas, ó unos minutos en compañía.

Han pasado casi 7 años desde el día que el rector del colegio me negó, durante la ceremonia de grado, los premios que me correspondían por rendimiento académico (El profesor que estaba encargado de leer los nombres durante la ceremonia confirmó este dato), lo que para mi, después de 12 años de vejaciones, constituyó la mayor de las humillaciones. Ese fue también el día en que decidí, definitivamente, abandonar Colombia para en lo posible no regresar con vida (Aunque muchos creen que la decisión llevaba años tomada,sólo la tomé durante esa ceremonia).
Han pasado 7 años, durante los cuales me he dedicado a conocerme a mí misma, a descifrar mis propios sueños y metas, y, en alguna medida, lo he logrado.

Sin embargo, el pasado no desaparece fácilmente, y el día de hoy me llevó de regreso al colegio, a llorar de rabia, a odiarme a mí misma, y a mi vida. Me llevó de nuevo a tratar de entender mi cometido en esta vida, y a preguntarme ¿Qué hice en mis vidas pasadas, para no lograr salir del infierno?

La undécima definición de la palabra es:
11. m. Cuba. Cierto juego de naipes.(https://www.rae.es)
Quisiera que mi infierno fuera tan sólo eso, un juego de naipes...

Posdata: Es la primera vez en 4 años que escribo en español, intentando cumplir con la gramática y ortografía españolas. Espero no sea doloroso a los ojos de quienes aún conocen las reglas ortográficas y gramaticales del idioma. :)

Memories Part 1: Pre-School

When out with friends or colleagues, conversations often go into memories, childhood dreams and experiences people have gone through. I feel unsure on what reaction I should have in those situations, as for good or bad, most of my memories between 1990 and 2004 are gone. I do have clear memories of my pre-school years, as well as some random memories from Kindergarten, elementary, middle and high school. However I have to recognize that given the clear and concise memories I have from when I was 4 years old, I seem to have forgotten most of my childhood and teenager years.
I remember in pre-school, first in Sprendlingen in Germany, and then at "La Hormiguita". I first went to a Kinder in Sprendlingen, Germany. I only went there for about 2 months, when my family was planning on moving back to Germany before I started school, so me and my sister didn't have to change school afterwards and go through the whole leaving friends behind, and so on. I went to the same kinder my older cousin Vanessa visited, she was in her last pre school year and I was allowed to go in her class because I didn't speak German, and she spoke a bit Spanish. We used to play most of the time, and I loved playing in some sorts of tunnels twhere I would hide. ne boy used to make fun of me, and hit me, and I remember one day before school that I told my mom, and she screamed at the boy in Spanish. He never came close to me again. In school we used to take naps, and sometimes paint as well. I was one of the smallest kids in the class, if not the smallest and youngest, and Vanessa often protected me from older kids. After school we used to go home, and then in the afternoons my mom would take me and my sister to the park, where my sister and I would play (and of course scream). We lived back then at my grandmas', and she lived in a last floor. I would always go up the stairs jumping, which caused continuous jelling from my grandmother, as this was disturbing for the neighbors. After some weeks, Vanessa also learnt to jump up the stairs. I must recognize her mother was not pleased at all on the influence I was having in her well educated, quiet, German kid.
After about 2 months my parents decided to go back to Colombia, dad was going to stay some more years in Colombia as an expat, which meant I would start school in Bogota.
Once we got back to Bogota, I started going to "La Hormiguita". I must have been 3 and a half when I first went to la Hosrmiguita, and I remember the girls I always played with, and the doll house in the garden: We were 3 groups of girls who always wanted to play in the house, and we ran when the teahcers opened the door to get it, or try to. The boys used to climb on the outside for the sake of it, while we girls pretended to go grocery shopping (sand!) and to cook and such.
Every morning we would stand behind our chairs and pray, We would oray to the Guardian Angel, and to Virgin Mary.
I also remember I I had difficulties holding the pencil right, so the teacher always put a special rubber form in my pencil, to make me hold it correctly. I remember the day we learnt the days of the week, and some other words related to time. The teacher gave each of us papers where whe had put symbols. Mondays we normally had 'sports' so Monday was represented by a boy who loved to play ball. Wednesdays was arts day, I remember I was representing 'alternating', as my week was alternating between German with Connie and La Hormiguita.
I only went to the Hormiguita 3 times a week, the other 2 days I had German lessons with Connie, Tuesdays my parents drove me to Cota, and Fridays class was in a house in Bogota.
My 4th birthday was celebrated in the Hormiguita, I had a green dress, and my pre-school classmates were all there. The motive for the party was "guri guri", and I got a stuffed guri guri as a present. My neighour, who lived in the 4th floor of the building I lived in, was also there. We never walked together to school, but we often saw talked there. She was a bit older than me, and was sick. I often wonder now if she survived. I was too little to understand why she always wore a hat and seemed not to have hair. As I grew older I understood she had cancer.
I remember a day or two that my sister went with me to the Hormiguita. She had to stay with the younger kids, I was not yet 4, and she was barely 2.
All together I went to the Hormiguita for one year only: School year 88/89. While I was in the Hormiguita I had my admission test to the "Big School": I went 2 days to the Andino, where I was put with other kids I didn't know, and we had people talking to us, time to paint and play, etc. I remember an older man asking me what my drawing was, and watching me put a kids jigsaw together.
I also remember I had Blackberry juice in my lunch box, and I made a mess of my clothes with it. My lunchbox was pink, and the motive was "My little Pony". The classroom in the big school where I was for theh test was the Rabbit, and the teacher's name was Ingrid. The old guy's name was Jorge (Years later I figured out he was the school's psychologist).
After the school year ended we went to Germany for the summer, and once summer vacation was over I started to visit the "big school", the Colegio Andino, where I was a student until I finished High School.