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ink and pen





Today is one of those Mondays where I feel restless enough to be on top of my game on the productivity department. At my desk it works perfectly on a time we have more to do than time to do it. It also helps to clean up the mac and by default, the nearly 100 messages on the gmail account.

Why don´t you write anymore? 

This comes from somebody whom has read every single one of my posts, but never has left a single comment and somehow shocks me.

Did something change? and when?

Some months ago I got to know this really cool blogger whom has managed to control her anonymity quite well. Over coffee we talked about great it is to be anonymous, to be able to vomit your most deep feeling without retaliations, to be brutally honest, and dark enough to be incredibly interesting…

At some point, the comments, the feedback, gives you as much (if not more) pleasure than the freedom to say whatever you want out loud, and the hints give us away.

Some people have figure out who I am, and now things have changed

Why do we blog, I reflected on my way home, why I did start blogging, and why and when things started to changed, and more interesting, the price I (we) had to pay when things change. When others put a face on your words, when your love ones know about how you feel through a declaration made public for everyone to know… When then you risk to hurt those love ones or to instigate misinterpretations…

I wondered if blogging has become a alternate route to personal conversations, a route to avoid direct confrontations, a route where the end may be either getting reassurance from the unknown people or sour confrontations from the known love ones…

… Then what?

tic tac



– What are you doing?

– I am getting dressed. I gotta go.

– But…

– But what?

– I didn´t know you smoke…

– You just met me less than 3 hours ago. There is plenty you don´t know -and  don´t need to know.

– I thought… I think I would like to know more of that “plenty.”

– Honey, your time is up. There is still “plenty” outside waiting  for me… and the clock is ticking.

7 years and missing you the same

Menorca2005 117

(My brother, my confident, my half… Sintu RIP 15-05-2006)


When my time arrives, let me go.
Although i may have things to see and things to do
let me me go, because it is my time.

Don´t tie yourselves to me with tears,
rejoice in all the years we been together.
I have loved you so much,
and you have given me much happiness.
I give you thanks for the love everyone has shown me,
but now is time for me to travel alone.

So if you need to cry, cry a little,
but cry only for a while
and then let your grief be comforted
by the knowledge that we will meet soon.
It’s just for a moment we are apart from each other
so bless those memories in your heart.

Despite life goes on, i will not be far away,
so if you need me, call and i will come.
Although you may not see me or touch me, I will always be near
and if you listen with your heart,
you will feel all my love around you, soft and clear.

Then, when it is time for you to walk this path
this lonely road that i have to do now,
I will greet you with a smile
and i will say “welcome home”

Actual vampires (quickie)

the-vampireThe Vampire – Edvard Munch


Some, parasitic by nature.
Most, parasitic by circumstance.
The worst ones… parasite by choice.

Self absorbed, manipulative,
playing the victim card.

So called friends 

Parasites that will (try to) suck your into their spiral
but not now…

Not when they encounter a strong pack.
Not when we finally see through them.

I laugh for being on a black list.

Parenting or laziness

– I need a cell phone, he says. He is 6, and he seems so offended, standing there, with his arms crossed, because he needs a cell phone.
– You need a cell phone…
– YES! he tights his arms around his body angrily.
– Who the hell are you gonna call to? Dora the explorer?

They say most things come on three, or something like that. In the afternoon I get scolded because I am browsing my 10 y.o journal, and as I walk upstairs, news on TV are discussing the children´s right to a private life.

What the hell?

I totally get that my girl, who´s 10, needs a break from her brother who is 6. I understand that when she is with her girlfriends she needs some privacy, in the same way he does not need his older sister busting his balls when he is with his buddies. And I understand also that kids need their own quite time alone.

I get that.

What I don´t get, is when I hear that there is not ok to see what your kids are up to, to be in a precise tune when it comes to a pre-teen girl. What I don’t get is that it seems to be perfectly ok for us parents to leave complete freedom and no boundaries to our children.

In a fast-paced life as we live nowadays, it is so easy to park the kids in front of the TV, the iPad or the computer. I am not saying that there is something fundamentally wrong with that – once in a while, I am grateful to be able to take a little “brake” myself also. What I believe that is fundamentally wrong, is not to follow what the kids do then. What I mean is that I, as a parent, need to check who does she talk on Mine craft or Moviestarplanet -and more important, who is asking her for her e-mail or phone number.

So hang on a second… Since when we parents have become so lazy?

I trust my kids… The point is that I don’t trust the predators of the world… Mobbing, harassment, pear pressure… If I am completely oblivious of what is going in their life, how am I going to protect them? How, if I don’t have control of what they do, and with who?

I am not stupid, -at least I´d like to believe that I am not. I believe my children will go and do that things we all did when we were teenagers, I believe they will have secrets, they will hide things from me… But I keep reminding myself that they didn’t ask to be in this world, that it was my decision to have them here, and it is my responsibility to protect them and to guard them until they are strong enough to do it alone.

There is simply no rush to grow up, no need to speed things up. The idea that mascara and heels and internet friends scare the shit out of me. Let the kids be kids and be alert, l keep telling myself. I understand their need to feel more grown, the need to “belong”, but that doesn´t mean I like it. I understand also that at some point I need to compromise.

He asks for a cell phone. I think fast. I have an old phone that doens´t work, I turn it on, set the alarm to 1 hour and I send him out. He can´t call but he has an alarm that makes him feel important and grown-up. He is playing out, and I am sure he will be back in 1 hour on the spot. Win-win situation, I guess…

In the meantime, I will keep being a lioness -because it is my job and my responsibility. I will keep snooping on my daughter´s journal because… Well, see the video and know why…


Christine, the strawberry girl
Christine, banana split lady
Christine, the strawberry girl
Christine sees her faces unfurl

She is pretty, but she is not a prettyface and despite she knows she doesn’t need make up, she feels she needs a mask nevertheless. A few times, in front of the mirror she wonders what is she is really hiding from…

She thinks of him. He certainly does not wear “New Wave” make up, or dark clothes, and probably he doesn’t even know who The Cure is, or Siouxsie and the Banshees or Joy Division, like she does. He is older, like really older and his style is impeccable, presentable if you will, well mannered and serious behind some round glasses.


She feels inadequate, but she likes to listen to him. He likes to read out loud, despite his class is totally uninterested on listening to him, but she likes to listen to him, she likes to think he reads only for and to her –and at some point he notices that, and eventually, he notices her.

She tries not to shatter, kaleidoscope style
Personality changes behind her red smile
Every new problem brings a stranger inside
Heplessly forcing one more new disguise

When he leans his head down and peeks over his round glasses, the light´s reflection on the glass disappear; when he leans his head down and exposes his eyes, she can see blue oceans looking at her -talking to her. And when he turns his eyes to the book and keeps reading, his moving lips mesmerise her, her mouth opening slowly, watering…

Why the boys her age are so… clueless?

Now’s shes in purple
Now’s she the turtle
Christine, Christine