Month: October 2003

These are boring, but I’ll answer them.

1. Name five things in your refrigerator.

Milk, cheese, grapes, mandarin lemons, and wasabi.

2. Name five things in your freezer.

I’m guessing fish, icecubes, meat, chicken, and lots of frost.

3. Name five things under your kitchen sink.

Drawers, a trash can, the electric dishwasher, and a piece of wood.

4. Name five things around your computer.

Right now: the tv remote control, the tag that came with the M bag that contained the books I sent to Colombia, a bunch of pictures from my 18th birthday and my departure to the States (I wonder why they’re there), one of my mom’s architecture books, and one of my sister’s notebooks.

5. Name five things in your medicine cabinet.

I don’t have such thing, and I don’t know where my mom keeps the medicines.

After a while, when everything’s settled and you know exactly what to say and what not to say, you start to miss the simple pleasures of the early beginning. You used to hide your real intentions behind a world of shyness, you turned away when you really wanted to gaze eternally into that special person’s eyes, and the universe seemed to be made up entirely of fantasies. There is so much beauty in a first date, when everything seems to go wonderfully, when all your secret codes are deciphered and answered in another, maybe more intricate code… and you wonder… am I right? are we right?

There is no need for any of those silly things now. It’s over. You are, you aren’t, you don’t wait for an invitation to coffee anymore. Words are exactly what they mean. Phone calls and e-mails have become a routine. The love is strong, you can ask yourself a thousand times and the answer will always be the same: yes, yes, yes, forever and ever. However… where is that nervous “hello” you were waiting to say all day long? Where is the delightful doubt?

When you get bored of each other, can you reverse the enthropy and with pounding heartbeats build again the passion that faded into an uncertain smoke of certain love?

1. Do you watch sports? If so, which ones?

This is a soccer country. Everybody watches soccer… except for me. They also watch F1 to see how Juan Pablo Montoya always loses and Michael Schumacher always wins (F1 is a monopoly, it’s that simple; there is absolutely no need to watch it). I don’t like to watch sports. However, I don’t miss the Olympics. Most of the sports shown there are beautiful!

2. What/who are your favorite sports teams and/or favorite athletes?

Geez, this proves I’m a complete ignorant in terms of sports. I don’t have a favorite team nor athlete (I don’t know which are good and why… Real Madrid is the world’s dream team, but I don’t follow Beckham). You can ask me about any of them and I have no idea about their performance. I know everyone loves Beckham, but that’s the extent of my knowledge. Since I live in a soccer country, I can remember soccer players’ names. Don’t ask me about the rest of sports.

3. Are there any sports you hate?

Well, just about all of them! Just kidding. Do you want to know which sport I hate? WELL I HATE FOOTBALL!!! It’s totally pointless!

4. Have you ever been to a sports event?

I went to the soccer stadium once, to see a local team play. Apart from that… just school sports (basketball, soccer, football at Loras–I left early).

5. Do/did you play any sports (in school or other)? How long did you play?

I am the least sporty person you could ever meet. I’ve never played, it seems I’ll never play in my life. Yeah, that’s the way I am.

My best friend is in a mental ward. Something wasn’t right behind her smile, and even though her friends tried to help, the problem was way beyond a simple blues. This morning I found her message, and I can’t describe the feeling I got from it. Vacuity, perhaps? It seemed like many bad things were suddenly converging right above me. It’s bad enough to receive a ‘pop confession’ from someone I trusted (it all got solved later, fortunately) to learn soon afterwards that my best friend’s mind hasn’t been that okay, after all.

My mom had told me one day that one of her friends in New York went crazy and she had visited her in the mental ward. She was about my age by then. Maybe my life is a bizarre copy of my mom’s, which is not bad at all. But that’s not the point. The point is, despite it all, my friend has not changed; she is the same great person I studied with, almost my sister, the only girl who’s never come up with a stupid complaint that could risk our friendship. She is my true best friend. And I can’t think of her as a mental case or a crazy woman. No, wherever she is, she is exactly who she’s always been.

I hope everything turns out well, because all I care about right now, in terms of friendship, is her welfare.