Friday 30 December 2011
Thursday 29 December 2011
Wednesday 28 December 2011
Who where you in your last life?
Ever wondered this? Past lives is something we all have thought about at least once. Wondering if they exist or not, at least I know I have, I don't really know if I believe in them but it is a bit more fun to think we could have been some famous artist in the past or maybe shakespeare's inspiration. It is just exciting.
Imagination is one of the purest and most sincere qualities of the human being, because we don't let anyone tells us how to imagine things or what to. So why not let ourselves let our imagination wonder a bit towards having a life before this one.
I found this website http://www.thebigview.com/pastlife/ where you just write your birth date and it will tell you what you were. I thought it was quite nice :) probably because it told me i was a magician (haha!).
The idea of a life after this one, is just a bit comforting, for me at least. The fact of just stop existing is not very thrilling is it?
Anywhoooo... here is what I got on my past life :) and at the end there is a very shitty picture of me as a magician.
Your past life diagnosis:
I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern South New Zealand around the year 1100. Your profession was that of a builder of houses, temples and cathedrals.
Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
You had the mind of a scientist, always seeking new explanations. Your environment often misunderstood you, but respected your knowledge.
The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
Magic is everywhere around you, even in the most usual, most ordinary situations. Your lesson is to understand this magic and to help other people to see it, too. You are a magician!
Do you remember now?
Imagination is one of the purest and most sincere qualities of the human being, because we don't let anyone tells us how to imagine things or what to. So why not let ourselves let our imagination wonder a bit towards having a life before this one.
I found this website http://www.thebigview.com/pastlife/ where you just write your birth date and it will tell you what you were. I thought it was quite nice :) probably because it told me i was a magician (haha!).
The idea of a life after this one, is just a bit comforting, for me at least. The fact of just stop existing is not very thrilling is it?
Anywhoooo... here is what I got on my past life :) and at the end there is a very shitty picture of me as a magician.
Your past life diagnosis:
I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern South New Zealand around the year 1100. Your profession was that of a builder of houses, temples and cathedrals.
Your brief psychological profile in your past life:
You had the mind of a scientist, always seeking new explanations. Your environment often misunderstood you, but respected your knowledge.
The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:
Magic is everywhere around you, even in the most usual, most ordinary situations. Your lesson is to understand this magic and to help other people to see it, too. You are a magician!
Do you remember now?
 |
| shitty picture, but don't i look happy? I might stop shaving the beard and just let it grow ;) |
Tuesday 27 December 2011
Wristcutters ♥
¿Como me enamoro de una película sobre suicidas que van a una peor vida? No se.
¿Tan patética mi vida? No lo se.
Igual la película es hasta cierto grado hermosa. Definitivamente no te hace apreciar lo bueno de la vida si no sospechar acerca de la dulzura de la muerte. Que una película tan depresivamente graciosa te enseñe que el amor en cualquier lado se encuentra cuando se busca. Es otra historia de amor no tan distinta a la que estamos acostumbrados a llevar aquí en el mundo real donde cada vez sonreímos menos y lloramos mas. ♥
Hablando de suicidios y otras cosas buscando encontre un poema de Shel Silverstein. (El que no lo haya leído: léalo) y se acerca bastante a las realidades del mundo.
Happy Ending? Final Feliz?
There are no happy endings. No hay finales felices.
Endings are the saddest part, Los finales son las partes mas tristes.
So just give me a happy middle Asi que solo dame la parte de enmedio
And a very happy start. y un comienzo muy muy feliz..
-Shel Silverstein -Shel Silverstein
 |
| no hay nada que me haga mas feliz que mis gatos ♥ |
Sunday 25 December 2011
Saturday 5 November 2011
Friday 4 November 2011
04/11/2011 07:41
That one day when your cat decides to stare.
My cats are the only ones that have kept me company lately, which I don't really mind to be honest.
Cats they are so warm.
Anyways how exciting can a post be when all I'm talking about is cats ? ♥
Thursday 3 November 2011
Wednesday 2 November 2011
Monday 31 October 2011
Libertad de Expresión
Según wikipedia "El derecho a la libertad de expresión es definido como un medio para la libre difusión de las ideas."
Ideas, todos las tenemos y definitivamente todas son distintas.
No entiendo porque los conflictos. Simplemente:
- algunas personas creen en Dios otras no.
-algunas personas comen carne otras prefieren el monte.
-algunas personas les gusta la marihuana otras prefieren la nicotina.
-algunas personas saben quien es Slayer otras prefieren a Katy Perry.
Tus gustos, pensamientos, TODO lo que te convierte en lo que vos sos es libertad de expresión en mi opinión.
escribir en este blog sabiendo que nadie me va leer es libertad de Expresión. Asi son las cosas. No hay nada a que temerle.
:)
Ideas, todos las tenemos y definitivamente todas son distintas.
No entiendo porque los conflictos. Simplemente:
- algunas personas creen en Dios otras no.
-algunas personas comen carne otras prefieren el monte.
-algunas personas les gusta la marihuana otras prefieren la nicotina.
-algunas personas saben quien es Slayer otras prefieren a Katy Perry.
Tus gustos, pensamientos, TODO lo que te convierte en lo que vos sos es libertad de expresión en mi opinión.
escribir en este blog sabiendo que nadie me va leer es libertad de Expresión. Asi son las cosas. No hay nada a que temerle.
Tuesday 9 August 2011
Guatemala 12.41 am
Como esperas no tener problemas en tus relaciones sentimentales, cuando el unico hombre que se supone se ve obligado a amarte, nunca te escribe.
El dia de hoy Andrea decide abrir sus correos y piensa, ya pasaron mas de 6 meses desde su último correo, talvez pueda ser que alla pensado un poquito en mi. Emocionada (con mas emoción de la que se merece la situación) veo un correo con el titulo Angel Román. Es esos pequeños momentos donde tu corazon se hace un nudo y los ojos se te llenan de lágrimas. Abro el correo y TA RAN! spam.
Así de triste, mi papá no me quiere. (haha asi o mas emo)
Este post es triste ni siquiera me sento con ganas de exagerarlo o llenarlos de colores fantasiosos. Quiero que lean lo patetico y triste qu es tener a un papa imbécil.
Love A
x
Sunday 7 August 2011
un post lleno de odio
1.29 pm
Esperando la inspiracion decido empezar a escribir, talvez algo se me ocurra en el camino. Estoy harta de esperar de mi, estoy harta de que las malditas personas que me rodean me importen tanto.
Estoy harta de tener a esa perra en mi cabeza. Pero planeo dejar mi ira plasmada aqui y ya no pensar en eso.
Que tu inspiración.
Necesito vacaciones.
Wednesday 27 April 2011
A silly essay I did a few months ago :)
Andrea Román
Short Story
Creative Reading
For you who does not really care:
I remember it was a cloudy morning and I didn’t want to wake up. I thought about staying in bed for the rest of the day “school is not that exciting” was the first thought that invaded my mind. Nothing was after he left, after everything he said, and yes Mrs. Stupidity wanted to believe him, that is what you do when you really love someone isn’t it? To believe that they are saying the truth even when deep inside, you know it is all baloney. Great, my thoughts are wandering again into that space in your head where you place everything you want to forget or wish it had never happened, like your first day in school where u bit a girl’s cheek because of how red it was. I swear they looked like apples; they didn’t taste like apples though. That place where to be honest doesn’t help at all, it does not stop those thoughts about the person whose arms made you feel loved, whose mouth kissed you good night whose... STOP! This is just not helping.
I can’t continue doing this. It is too painful.
After a few minutes of fighting myself, I decided to wake up and have some breakfast. At the kitchen table not being able to eat that horrible cereal anymore, I stopped for a second and I could picture him serving supper, he didn’t want anyone else to cook that night. It was his "I’ll pretend to be a chef" night. Everyone was laughing and smiles were everywhere I could sense the yellow walls smiling like four giants staring at their children, with maternal glare, those walls that forever despondent will stand now. I can now look back at these bits of time and everything seems so surreal, my mind can’t afford itself to believe we ever had a good time with him, but we did.
Days go by and everything is back to normal, when I just happen to forget those gloomy mornings were everything seems to fall apart, and it is not that hard to continue with my boring life something has to happen. Every time I think I’ll be ok and everything stays where it is meant to be in my head. Something has to remind me of him, is like that horrible nightmare you are never able to forget and that you know it will haunt you all your life. One afternoon looking for something, I can’t really remember what; in some old boxes at the back of the house I found this necklace someone gave me for one of my birthdays. That someone is him if you need to know… I feel warm tears rolling down my cheeks. I really don’t know why these things affect me that much. Maybe the fact that he was my father is involved in this. It was that evening that I found myself going over in my mind again events from the last time I saw him. I walked into the kitchen and asked him why he had taken out the suitcases, as I saw him seated at our old and wasted table, he offered me a cup of coffee "I hate coffee" I said for the eleventh million time, all his life living with me and I still can’t believe he never remembered I hate coffee, maybe that is proof of how much he cared about us. When he told me we needed to talk, I knew something was not right from the tone of his voice. Suddenly, I understood why the suitcases were outside, just waiting for him to once again take them somewhere far away from me, somewhere I could not bother him anymore or be part of his life.
I never wanted to do this. I never wanted to be part of the statistics that say kids are affected by divorce, but part of me could not stop but blame him for everything or even worse blame myself. I can’t say now my life has been awful because of him leaving, for the reason that I would be lying I still laugh and cry the same way I did before he left, but some days like that cloudy morning I can’t stop myself from feeling there is something that is not how it’s meant to be. I guess it´s normal, but I do really miss him sometimes, and all I’ve got from him are memories but isn’t that what everything becomes in life...? Memories.
Losing my dad was one of the hardest things I have been through, but the most difficult part for me to understand is: knowing that he had an option, that he did not have to leave. Why did he do it? Why did he not want me anymore? Is he happier without me? These are questions that will stay unanswered, and all I can do is make all these stories in my mind, telling myself he one day might come back. He could at least have called for my birthdays or send a postcard, but no it seems as if he forgot about my existence.
Someone really important in my life once told me, we have to learn to forgive and ask for forgiveness. Maybe that is the reason why I’m writing this, to tell him I’m sorry for hating him, to say I’m sorry for blaming him, and I know deep inside my heart I forgave him already for leaving me alone. Not all of it is bad; don’t get me wrong, he taught me one of the greatest lessons in life to love the people who care about you no matter what, to keep those people who prepare you chocolate, because they know you don’t like coffee, close. At the end of the day all I’ve got is the dignity to say I loved him even when it was right for me to hate him, I never gave up on him even when it is so hard to fight for those things that you might never get back, but something I know for sure I’ll wait all my life if needed to see those suitcases back where they belong.
Andrea
Short Story
Creative Reading
For you who does not really care:
I remember it was a cloudy morning and I didn’t want to wake up. I thought about staying in bed for the rest of the day “school is not that exciting” was the first thought that invaded my mind. Nothing was after he left, after everything he said, and yes Mrs. Stupidity wanted to believe him, that is what you do when you really love someone isn’t it? To believe that they are saying the truth even when deep inside, you know it is all baloney. Great, my thoughts are wandering again into that space in your head where you place everything you want to forget or wish it had never happened, like your first day in school where u bit a girl’s cheek because of how red it was. I swear they looked like apples; they didn’t taste like apples though. That place where to be honest doesn’t help at all, it does not stop those thoughts about the person whose arms made you feel loved, whose mouth kissed you good night whose... STOP! This is just not helping.
I can’t continue doing this. It is too painful.
After a few minutes of fighting myself, I decided to wake up and have some breakfast. At the kitchen table not being able to eat that horrible cereal anymore, I stopped for a second and I could picture him serving supper, he didn’t want anyone else to cook that night. It was his "I’ll pretend to be a chef" night. Everyone was laughing and smiles were everywhere I could sense the yellow walls smiling like four giants staring at their children, with maternal glare, those walls that forever despondent will stand now. I can now look back at these bits of time and everything seems so surreal, my mind can’t afford itself to believe we ever had a good time with him, but we did.
Days go by and everything is back to normal, when I just happen to forget those gloomy mornings were everything seems to fall apart, and it is not that hard to continue with my boring life something has to happen. Every time I think I’ll be ok and everything stays where it is meant to be in my head. Something has to remind me of him, is like that horrible nightmare you are never able to forget and that you know it will haunt you all your life. One afternoon looking for something, I can’t really remember what; in some old boxes at the back of the house I found this necklace someone gave me for one of my birthdays. That someone is him if you need to know… I feel warm tears rolling down my cheeks. I really don’t know why these things affect me that much. Maybe the fact that he was my father is involved in this. It was that evening that I found myself going over in my mind again events from the last time I saw him. I walked into the kitchen and asked him why he had taken out the suitcases, as I saw him seated at our old and wasted table, he offered me a cup of coffee "I hate coffee" I said for the eleventh million time, all his life living with me and I still can’t believe he never remembered I hate coffee, maybe that is proof of how much he cared about us. When he told me we needed to talk, I knew something was not right from the tone of his voice. Suddenly, I understood why the suitcases were outside, just waiting for him to once again take them somewhere far away from me, somewhere I could not bother him anymore or be part of his life.
I never wanted to do this. I never wanted to be part of the statistics that say kids are affected by divorce, but part of me could not stop but blame him for everything or even worse blame myself. I can’t say now my life has been awful because of him leaving, for the reason that I would be lying I still laugh and cry the same way I did before he left, but some days like that cloudy morning I can’t stop myself from feeling there is something that is not how it’s meant to be. I guess it´s normal, but I do really miss him sometimes, and all I’ve got from him are memories but isn’t that what everything becomes in life...? Memories.
Losing my dad was one of the hardest things I have been through, but the most difficult part for me to understand is: knowing that he had an option, that he did not have to leave. Why did he do it? Why did he not want me anymore? Is he happier without me? These are questions that will stay unanswered, and all I can do is make all these stories in my mind, telling myself he one day might come back. He could at least have called for my birthdays or send a postcard, but no it seems as if he forgot about my existence.
Someone really important in my life once told me, we have to learn to forgive and ask for forgiveness. Maybe that is the reason why I’m writing this, to tell him I’m sorry for hating him, to say I’m sorry for blaming him, and I know deep inside my heart I forgave him already for leaving me alone. Not all of it is bad; don’t get me wrong, he taught me one of the greatest lessons in life to love the people who care about you no matter what, to keep those people who prepare you chocolate, because they know you don’t like coffee, close. At the end of the day all I’ve got is the dignity to say I loved him even when it was right for me to hate him, I never gave up on him even when it is so hard to fight for those things that you might never get back, but something I know for sure I’ll wait all my life if needed to see those suitcases back where they belong.
Andrea
Wednesday 6 April 2011
Arrepentimiento..
"En griego, generalmente significan ‘cambiar de pensamiento’ y también ‘lamento’ o ‘sentir remordimiento’."
¿Acaso estoy destinada a vivir una vida de arrepentimiento...?
No lo se…
La verdad en estos momentos es cuando me alegra que nadie lea lo que escribo … Por supuesto que la historia vendra fantasiosa y llena de pensamientos dramáticos…. Pero esa soy yo que se puede hacer.. Al menos… estoy contando la historia….
“…Y ahí estaba una vez mas sentada en el sillón donde estuvo sentada miles de veces antes… Vestida de verde… el mismo verde que había usado miles de veces antes….
Pero esta vez había algo distinto esta vez sintió algo q no había sentido ni una ni mil veces antes… Eso que sentía tenia nombre... .
Era tan extraño y tan distinto a sus ojos que no lo pudo evitar… hablaron toda la noche, su corazón se detuvo cuando dijo su nombre….
Tarde ya esa noche cuando ella pensó que todo estaría bien… Llego la oscuridad pero no la hermosa oscuridad de la noche…. La oscuridad que se encuentra en el corazón de las demás personas. Ese tipo de oscuridad en donde la envidia, el rencor y todos esos sentimientos siniestros fueron engendrados… y se lo llevo…
Con el corazón echo pedazo espero talvez el iba regresar….”
…y no, no regreso si es lo que quieren saber pero en lo personal no le he puesto final a esa historia … Hopes dies last o no?
Love
A..
Monday 4 April 2011
Vamos a hablar ahora d lo dsafortunada q soy
hahaha.. no talvez no.. Soy muy afortunada :)
Al menos lo disfrute.. :)
Esta es mi historia del fin de semana..
en un fin de semana..
lo vi
lo desee
lo bese
le pose
lo olvide..
Esa es la historia ...
♥
Es uno de esos lunes donde desearia que
todo fuera diferente.. En el sentido que no deseo olvidarlo..
Quisiera que fuera mas facil..
Si fuera mas facil no seria tan divertidoo.. :)
:)
A pesar de todo me hizo el findesemana....
Con amor
A
hahaha.. no talvez no.. Soy muy afortunada :)
Al menos lo disfrute.. :)
Esta es mi historia del fin de semana..
en un fin de semana..
lo vi
lo desee
lo bese
le pose
lo olvide..
Esa es la historia ...
♥
Es uno de esos lunes donde desearia que
todo fuera diferente.. En el sentido que no deseo olvidarlo..
Quisiera que fuera mas facil..
Si fuera mas facil no seria tan divertidoo.. :)
:)
A pesar de todo me hizo el findesemana....
Con amor
A
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