Old and tired woman

Maybe it's just a temporary; the mental, and emotional exhaustion will soon pass; it's nothing out of the ordinary. And one can only remain hopeful, optimistic and motivated for so long. I'm always so afraid of doing something wrong.

I envisioned myself as an old, decrepit woman. My youth and looks no longer mattered. I watched the younger people walk by; they worried about their financial situations, about their jobs; some worried about their love lives and wondered if they'll ever have babies. Some were rushing home to their children, and some were going shopping for a big date that evening.

As I watched them, I felt a sense of relief and liberation. I was invisible; there were no expectations; nobody asked me to cheer up and smile. I got no strange and awkward looks from men. I knew my time on this earth was coming to an end. I was slipping away, but I didn't care. I had lived a long life of many challenges, anxieties and senseless pursuits, of hopes and disappointments, and my heart was fatigued from a lifetime of heartbreaks. I was ready to go at any moment; I no longer feared death.

I hate Small Town Mentality: Why I Need To Move To NY

This is a rant.

I find myself feeling more and more contempt towards my co-workers and neighbors. And I feel guilty, because these are "nice" people for the most part. The guys I work with are either from the military or law enforcement, in the south. They rejoice on the most mundane things, and I truly don't give a fuck. Pardon my crassness.

Good for you if you enjoy biscuits with gravy and hog ham every friggin morning; you're excited about what type of rifle you're getting (since there's so much danger everywhere; of course you have to be hypervigilant!) next, and about where you're going hunting next month.  And yes, I've overheard you and the guys talking about Obama being a dumbass. You don't want me to get into that conversation. You want none of it. At all.

They're so eager to partake in these dumb banterings. It's like saying anything is better than nothing at all. It's their way of bonding. And you know what? I've tried it with these guys. I join sometimes and have a couple of laughs. What happens after that? They watch your every move; they're nosy as hell!

I have a lot to think about and do. Yes, I leave here from lunch and I'll be back. I don't need to tell you what I had for lunch everyday, and I wish you didn't clock me when I came back in if it's within an hour's 10 minute frame. You don't have to be overly nice. Aren't you busy anyways? God forbid if I tell you my car is in the shop. You will remind me of it at every chance you have and constantly ask for updates.

Don't worry about me.You're not my father. Don't say good morning every morning over and over. Before I go home, you don't have to say "Bye, have a good night! Be careful on your way home! See you tomorrow" and then assume I'm rude if I don't answer all of your damn questions. To which, if I don't, then I feel like you'll ask me even more just to find out if anything is wrong.

Don't hang around my desk, don't ask me about my weekend at 7:30am on Monday morning, and when I say "good," don't expect more info. Leave me the F alone. Thank you. I will truly appreciate you more. Nothing exciting, what would be deemed exciting to me anyways, happened, and if it did, I wouldn't be sharing it with you, so you can discuss it with the rest of the guys, and then find a way to tease me about what fun things I do as a single "wild gal" for having some dinner with friends. Plus I would never, EVER tell you if I went out on a date or if I'm actually seeing anyone. NEVER. EVER.

 If I drop something in the kitchen, you don't have to get up, go over to the kitchen and ask, "is everything alright?" GTFOH! Is this some kind of adventure for you? Go back to your desk. I got it!

So I told you off, because I just can't take it anymore, and now I'm rude. So next time, I try to be nicer, but then, of course, the cycle begins again and your head is up my ass.

I can't wait to move, and not to have to tell my office co-workers where I'm going every friggin' minute! You know why? Because they won't even care! As a matter of fact, they'll be too busy with their own lives and preoccupied with their own thoughts to even notice when I'm gone; unless, they're requesting something in specific from me.

With that said, I can't wait to move, and not deal with the mentality of small town folks and their conservative, narrow minded views, which, is a different topic I can expand on; but as this point, I'm exhausted just thinking about how much I've put up with in quiet desperation for the past few years.

Sigh. I feel better!

Miguel Bose: Underrated Song Lyricist and Artist - Song Translations

I've never been a harcore fan of music in Spanish. Don't get me wrong; I used the term "hardcore;" there are a few Latin American artists whose music I've been a long time fan of. None of them however, compare to his talents and depth; none seem to master the art of song lyricism like Spaniard singer/actor Miguel Bose. It's not only the lyrics, the sound arrangement/production is top notch!

My sister, who is three years older than me introduced me to his music while we were kids in Puerto Rico. We both remained faithful fans up until this day. In fact, his music inspired much of my sister's finished manuscript (in English by the way) a couple of years ago.

It was not only his music that inspired us. Bose is a well known social activist in Latin America; he's been very outspoken against prejudice, racism and classicism. He also didn't conform to traditional standards of masculinity, especially in Latin countries.

Although a commanding presence, at times tinged with macho bravado, along with a deep, masculine voice, he was always outcasted for sporting a ponytail back in the late 80's and 90's, and for being ambiguous regarding his sexual orientation. He was born in Spain to famous bullfighter Miguel Dominguin and Italian singer and actress Lucia Bose. As a child he was surrounded by artistic icons of the likes of Pablo Picasso and Ernest Hemingway, both which have served as inspiration in his music.

As I was listening to his best hits album, I kept wishing English speakers could experience his music and enjoy it as I have. There's such a myriad of moods and elements to his music; his lyrics are passionate, magic, romantic, tragic, mysterious, uplifting, dark, blissful, whimsical, sexual and playful. I couldn't help but wanting to take a stab and do my best at translating in English a couple of my favorite songs.

So here we go... By the way, these are some of the darker/melancholic ones.

"No Hay Un Corazon Que Valga La Pena" (There's no one heart worth the pain/a damn)

there's not heart out there worth a damn

not even one heart that is not wounded from war

and here I am..surrounded by silence, so much silence

time has exhausted in the waiting compass

as it draws a desert inside and out

that pushes back anyone that tries to get close to you

I don't want a past full of resentments

I'm not looking for the impossible in open skies

just some peace as a payoff for taking the risk.

(chorus)

A love immense and immeasurable

without history and calculations

a love that doesn't ask any more questions

prepared to not understand

a love that looks straight ahead

a love sufficiently strong

a love not looking for an exit

and a love that doesn't cost my life.

there's not a heart worth a damn

there's not a fucking heart without baggage or troubles...forget it!

(there's not even one heart left)

there's not a heart worth a damn

 not a fucking heart in this whole wide earth
that will let you rest and not ask you any questions...forget it!

I would like to fly into your hiding spot

to tell you once and for all everything that's breaking me down

to stop missing your heart so much

and I wish I could have it, even if it's stolen

my heart is beating inside of you

(chorus x 2)

"Este Mundo Va" (This World Goes On)

Time passes by and it's not long until someone doesn't realize

we remain the same just wrapped up in novelty.

You ask me to change...however, your enthusiasm lingers

you still haven't asked me if I care or not...or not.

My love, I am writing you because I am witness of what is lost,

and although I'm getting accustomed to this, it's costing me.

Give me at least some time until I can breathe again; it's not an easy art to undertake..

Give me at least some time to say goodbye.

(chrous) Because in a world that goes by as fast as the speed of thunder

I can hold on to this flight if I grab your hand

please go with me as far as I can possibly go.

In this world that goes by as fast as a thought strikes, you don't get any merit for just the intent

and even though I don't want to, there is no doubt left.

This world goes on.

My spring and fall, my summer and winter

 I adapt with serenity

Give me at least of couple of chances and your eyes will watch me grow

give me at least some possibilities.

(chorus x 2)

"Bajo El Signo De Cain" (Under The Sign of Cain)

In the darkness I can hear your voice

Why must I pay for this inheritance?

How ancient is this punishment!

If You are God why don't You dare..

curse me with your pardon...

Free me Lord from all the fear and pain

and bring me back some peace

after all, your silence is my terror

God of God

I live without knowing of You

and under the sign of Cain.

If I cursed You

please mistake my faith

if you don't care of who I am

then let me be..because I want to talk to another god.

God of God I live without knowing You
and under the sign of Cain

your silence...

I live without knowing...

"No Encuentro Un Momento Pa Olvidar" (I can't find a moment to forget)

Mouth to mouth...and forgetting how to breathe, our tongues drowned together

in your bed I wanted to die...and I was dying.

night after night, in all that must remain quiet

time united us in a pact

into your eyes...I wanted to return

and I returned

Beyond you..yes, much far beyond

there's still a lot left to live by

which is everything and more

There was so much love, so much love, there was so much, so much, soo much love

that I can't find a moment to forget...I don't have the willpower to forget.

body against body

there wasn't a minute to waste

in the intense journey of a kiss

the life I gave you wasn't enough

Beyond you...there's a lot to discover

the places I didn't reach

and I know there's even more

there was so much love, so much love, there was so much, so much, soo much love

that I can't find a moment to forget...I don't have the willpower to forget.

Just a Nonsensical Dream? A Subconscious Desire?

A male guest, more like the blurry figure of a man, accompanied me to a family gathering. Mind you, I haven't brought any male acquaintance/friend/boyfriend to a family gathering in a long time, especially one where my father attended. See, my parents divorced when I was a very young teen. There's been a few occasions when my dad has attended holiday parties. Looking back at those instances now, I realize now those moments were special; even though, my dad was often the subject of much chagrin among my sisters, my mother and I.

He can say some off-the-wall things; he has an anxious, nervous personality. He gets uncomfortable; he can be neurotic and judgmental about certain people. However, when he relaxes, he can be quite jovial. When that happens, he can surprise us with his witty and sarcastic sense of humor and his knowledge of random historical events of anywhere imaginable in the world. He was always passionate about that; he only graduated high school, but he would read history books for leisure. We grew up watching documentaries and films about world civil wars and Elvis Presley. I think I'll do another post on that and of some of his eccentricities.

Anyways, my male guest was sitting next to my father; I was standing against a picnic table. My father blurts out, "you guys are falling in love!" with a smirk on his face and an alcoholic beverage in his hand. I look over at my male guest with my eyes wide; he looks back at me like a deer caught in the headlights. "Dad, stop...it's not like that! This is just someone I'm getting to know, just a friend," I say to my father, who then answers, "no, this is the one! I know it!" as he bursts out laughing. I charge back, "you're making him and I uncomfortable dad, c'mon...please."

As I walk away embarrassed and horrified, I glance over at my male guest, whose expression now is more of amusement; he is looking at me and holding back an irrepressible grin. I was expecting him to stand up and walk away, perhaps cut his visit short, which I would have understood. But he was there sitting with my father and enjoying his company. I decided to stay away. I don't remember coming back and talking to my father or the male guest, only watching them from a distance. I went on to the kitchen do some dishes. I think it was the same kitchen of the house I grew up in.

I woke up in contemplation. My family and I don't gather that often, except for a few holidays. I'm not even that close to my father, which reminds me that I have to give him a call. Regardless, it's unlikely for him to say something like that. I then thought of the errands/work I had to this weekend. Was this some subconscious desire of gaining acceptance from my family, especially my father?

They do accept me, but they think I live a somewhat unconventional life. To think of it, we all do. We are not really in stable relationships or even with significant others. We all lead our independent lives. I rarely share anything about personal relationships with my father. We actually got into an argument about it once, when he felt "overwhelmed by the wrong choices I make with men." He gets overwhelmed easily; it made no sense. I never even involved my father in any of those failed relationships; I always kept those things to myself to escape his judgment.

Still, I never went through any more drama than the average person. It's not like I ever showed up at his door beaten, barefoot and pregnant. I never felt like I needed any validation on who I chose to date from him anyways. Maybe he'd heard something from my mother, whom he still calls often. We haven't talked about it since he apologized, chalking it up to stress. He actually talks to me about the women he meets, which is funny. Besides that, our conversations revolve around work, mom, my sisters, films and politics.

Is this some unfulfilled, subconscious wish? Or nonsensical, nocturnal mental ramblings? Interesting nonetheless.