If you had asked me about 3 or 4 months ago, what was the worst thing that was going to happen this year, I would have, without a doubt, answered: ¨Going back to Mexico¨. It was my reality then; I had a comfy life filled with time, money, fancy dates and road trips (lacking most worries); understandably, I loved that life and leaving it made no sense at all. It hurt like hell to be standing on the airport entrance and to know that I had no real way of staying.
For a few days after my arrival I was in complete agony, coming back to Mexico was finally waking up and discovering that in fact I possessed none of the things I had become accustomed to (an apartment, a kitchen filled with food, a bed, a purpose in life, etc); I had lived someone else’s life for more than a year and now I had to, in some way, pay the price.
And yes, I was (and I am) paying many overdue Karma bills; I get it, it’s OK, I am the closest to a woman that I have ever been, irony and cosmic justice are not lost on me. However, I no longer feel that coming back was the worst ending; it is hard, to basically have nothing of my own, but that, somehow, has helped; a little life do-over before turning 28.
Sometimes you are in the middle of writing an assay, a post, whatever and your computer goes crazy for a minute or you hit the wrong button and you erase it all; your file is gone, your precious words and metaphors dead. You can give up and go watch TV, but if it was somewhat important you start again and, for some reason, the losing of the first draft makes your second version better. You touch areas that were not accessible to your brain before, you clean up some ideas, span on subjects, add little jokes or remember relevant quotes; at the end you still kind of hate your computer (or your clumsy hands), but you have to admit to yourself that things went wrong in the best of ways.
This is me now, admitting that maybe I am OK. That perhaps, good (better) things will come out of this mess. That in a really odd way I am truly happy to be back, to have lost it all.
There, I said it, and now here is another song (to make up for all the days of no posts)… It has nothing to do with Mexico or coming back, but I think that when I am content my brain sings in Portuguese, so it is fitting.
The song was Solta O Frango (Translation by Google: Unleash the Chicken) by Bonde do Rolê
For a few days after my arrival I was in complete agony, coming back to Mexico was finally waking up and discovering that in fact I possessed none of the things I had become accustomed to (an apartment, a kitchen filled with food, a bed, a purpose in life, etc); I had lived someone else’s life for more than a year and now I had to, in some way, pay the price.
And yes, I was (and I am) paying many overdue Karma bills; I get it, it’s OK, I am the closest to a woman that I have ever been, irony and cosmic justice are not lost on me. However, I no longer feel that coming back was the worst ending; it is hard, to basically have nothing of my own, but that, somehow, has helped; a little life do-over before turning 28.
Sometimes you are in the middle of writing an assay, a post, whatever and your computer goes crazy for a minute or you hit the wrong button and you erase it all; your file is gone, your precious words and metaphors dead. You can give up and go watch TV, but if it was somewhat important you start again and, for some reason, the losing of the first draft makes your second version better. You touch areas that were not accessible to your brain before, you clean up some ideas, span on subjects, add little jokes or remember relevant quotes; at the end you still kind of hate your computer (or your clumsy hands), but you have to admit to yourself that things went wrong in the best of ways.
This is me now, admitting that maybe I am OK. That perhaps, good (better) things will come out of this mess. That in a really odd way I am truly happy to be back, to have lost it all.
There, I said it, and now here is another song (to make up for all the days of no posts)… It has nothing to do with Mexico or coming back, but I think that when I am content my brain sings in Portuguese, so it is fitting.
The song was Solta O Frango (Translation by Google: Unleash the Chicken) by Bonde do Rolê
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