Este blog es sobre mí; mis pensamientos y puntos de vista sobre las cosas q me pasan y donde básicamente hago catarsis. Espero que lo disfruten!!


Everything must be so easy in this life for beautiful girls. You know the type, intelligent, gorgeous and with great bodies to match their brains. I can’t imagine they go to the beach worrying about how they look in their bikinis, or that people are looking down on them when they see them.

You would think everything comes easy for them, these beautiful girls. They can have every man (or woman) they choose, they’re successful in their careers (because attractive people are more likely to get hired), and overall seem to have no problems.

I can’t say I’m a beautiful girl, though I believe being one definitely has its problems. I’m sure these women have had their intelligence questioned on multiple occasions. I’m sure that others have assumed they’ve slept their way through every promotion they’ve ever had in the workplace.

I bet that other women don’t like them much because they are jealous of what they perceive is true of them (that everything comes easy for them). Other beautiful girls probably aren’t too friendly either because they may see them as competition.

I can assure you they’ve been objectified by men more times than they can count; they’ve been surely grabbed inappropriately at one point or another, and have been on the receiving end of unwanted attention from males. I’m positive that they’ve been subjected to this kind of behavior not only when they’re out dancing and having fun with friends, but also at the office, or even on the street.

If they’re feminine and take care of their appearances, they’re accused of being vain and shallow. Most people don’t value their opinions, or even take a couple of minutes to hear what they have to say. They are beautiful, but the most people look for in them is skin deep, no one takes the time to get to know the person underneath that attractive package.

I can’t say I’m a beautiful girl because I’d be lying, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be one if I was.



All this talk about Robin Williams’ recent death has brought back some pretty sad memories for me. I don’t know if it’s true that this amazing comedian was suffering from depression, and if that’s the cause of his apparent suicide. I do know that depression is one of the most awful things that a person can feel. I know because I’ve been there.


I remember, back in December of 2007, I discovered my father had been cheating on my mother for some time….that was the catalyst for my first battle with this debilitating mental illness. I was 18 years old.


You may think that it wasn’t such a big deal, people cheat; they always have and they always will, we are human after all and we all make mistakes. But for me, it was a very disheartening thing to learn. I idolized my father, I was even studying to become a doctor to please him (this I didn’t figure out until later, though). I just felt like the foundation I had built my beliefs upon was tumbling down, cracking and disintegrating as I helplessly watched it happen. I was desperate. I couldn’t talk to my friends; every time I broached the subject, they quickly changed it after some mumbled words. They were clearly uncomfortable and didn’t know how to help me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell my mother about what I had learned; it didn’t feel right to get in the middle and ruin her perceived happiness in the process. I was going suffer in silence.


That was the absolute worst thing I could have done. I’ve always been one to handle my own problems, always too proud to ask for help from those around me, but this type of thing isn’t something you can just handle on your own; you need a support system, if not a therapist, a friend, or even a stranger that has been there can provide some perspective and make life worth living for a little longer.


The whole of 2008 was one of the worst years of my life, as I went through the motions, not really living. One of the more objectionable parts of depression is the stigma attached to it. Most people who don’t understand it will claim you’re going through a phase, your friends will get frustrated with you because you won’t go out with them and suddenly you’ve become the problem. I started ignoring calls and texts from my friends, I just didn’t want to go through every explanation over and over again: “no, I don’t want to go out, I’m not feeling well”, “I don’t want to do anything”, “I just want to stay in” and others of the like.


So, I got really good at pretending. Pretending everything was fine, plastering a smile on my face. I used humor as a front, became the funny one in class, joking around and generally portraying myself as a happy person when the reality was the complete opposite of that. That mask I presented to the world became another thing I donned on in my everyday routine, like clothes and brushing my teeth before going out.


That’s another thing, doing the simplest of things like getting up in the morning became increasingly difficult, I just had a hard time finding reasons for going on. I cried myself to sleep most nights, and what little sleep I got was not enough to keep me going. Making myself get out of the house was a chore, the outside world was too bright, and it was tiresome to even think about putting on my “happy” mask to fake my way through the day and avoid questions. I even contemplated suicide on multiple occasions.


Depression is like a black cloud that envelops you, it slowly creeps over you without your notice, and when you do notice it it’s too late. It already has its hooks in you and won’t let go easily. This cover of darkness swallows you up, obliterating every positive thought in your mind, leaving you to think yourself worthless, a burden to your loved ones, and erasing your purpose for living. So much so, that in those lowest moments you’ll think you’re better off dead.


The only thing that helped me dig myself out of that pit of despair was the help of a dear friend of mine. She’ll remain anonymous here, but she knows who she is, and I’ll be forever grateful for her unbreakable loyalty and endless companionship. What she did was simple, she didn’t ask me what she could do to make me feel better, because I didn’t know what that could possibly be, she just showed up at my house unannounced every chance she got, and sat with me. Sometimes we would watch movies, or TV series, other times we’d listen to music or talk. But the point isn’t what we did or didn’t do; it was that she was there, being a companion, lending a shoulder to cry on or a sympathetic ear, without judgment, without demanding anything.


With time, and her unwavering friendship, little by little the shroud of depression slowly peeled itself off my person. I found myself actually smiling and laughing and overall enjoying life a bit more everyday. Until one day, it was just gone, as stealthily as it came, depression had departed and I was so very grateful.


Yes, 2008 was one of the worst years of my life, but I wouldn’t take it back even if I could. Having come through the other side of depression has made me into a stronger person and has helped mold who I am today. I am overall happy with the life I’ve led so far, and though I’ve been sad and hurt, I’ve also laughed until my cheeks ached and enjoyed the priceless gift of friendship. I know now that I have a propensity towards depression, it’s genetic and there’s no cure for it, except for being aware of the triggers and early symptoms that could mean it’s creeping back into my life. I’ve learned I have to reach out and ask for help, I have to tell my loved ones that I’m feeling sad or lonely and they won’t hesitate to give me a hand. I am very lucky to have such people in my life.


If you’re suffering through depression, don’t forget there’s always someone out there who can help you. Don’t resort to ending your life, because even if at that time it doesn’t feel worth living, I can assure you that feeling will pass, with the right people by your side. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, and don’t be ashamed of feeling depressed, it’s an illness and like with many others, it’s not your fault that this is happening to you. Reach out, whether it is to a friend, a relative or a complete stranger on the internet, you can always find someone willing to listen and offer you a little solace. Don’t give up, keep fighting, it’ll be worth it in the end.

No porque uno pertenezca al grupo poblacional de las dos equis quiere decir que una automáticamente es un ser hormonal, emocional y básicamente insoportable.
Lo que muchos hombres no entienden es que todas las mujeres fuimos alguna vez, niñas completamente normales hasta que, la afamada pubertad, nos empujó gritando y pataleando en dirección de la adultez en un camino sin retorno y plagado de incomodidades e irracionalidades. 
Estoy hablando por supuesto del insufrible ritual por el que todas las féminas debemos pasar cada mes. Ya el proceso físico de “esos días del mes” es más que molesto e incómodo; cosa que puede hacer de un santo una persona irritable. Sumandose a esto, tenemos los calambres, mejor conocidos por la frase “me duelen los ovarios” y evidente en la mujer cuando ésta se toca la parte baja del vientre con frecuencia, o en los casos mas extremos, se arolla en posición fetal con una bolsa de agua caliente en la panza mientras maldice el hecho de haber nacido del sexo femenino.
En contrapartida con los síntomas fisicos, tenemos  los psicológicos; el síndrome pre-menstrual o SPM para ser mas precisos. Y es éste el cual las mujeres odiamos con cada fibra de nuestro ser. Es cierto que hay algunas pocas afortunadas que no tienen que pasar por este fenómeno; pero lamentablemente, la mayoria de nosotras lo sufre en los dos o tres días anteriores a cada período. 
¿Cómo explicar lo que nos sucede a las mujeres durante estos dias? Sería como tratar de describirle los colores a una persona que nunca tuvo visión, pero voy a hacer el intento para ustedes, los lectores. Estar dentro de las garras de SPM es como querer reír, llorar y matar a alguien todo al mismo tiempo. Nuestras emociones están tan volátiles que cualquier cosa normalmente considerada insignificable nos puede hacer hervir la sangre con rabia o mandar directamente a un estado depresivo, sin pasar por la salida y sin cobrar $200.
Lamentablemente, cuando el SPM está bajo control, normalmente es seguido por el período, por lo que todos los meses, las mujeres estamos sufriendo física y emocionalmente durante 7 u 8 días. Todo para que el ciclo se repita cuatro semanas después. Cualquiera se volvería loco con esta situación, asi que hombres, hagannos un favor y mantengan a su alcance ibuprofeno para calmar los calambres y chocolate para las emociones, ambos en cantidades industriales durante “esos” días con su pareja. Digan todo que sí, o mejor aún mantengan el silencio, y el peligro va a pasar con la menor cantidad de daño colateral posible. 

Changes, decisions, moments…..life is full of them, and the choices we make have a rippling effect over our entire existence.

I now find myself at a crossroads, not knowing which path to take that will make a positive impact on my life. This indecision is killing me. Wearing me out bit by bit until I feel as if I’m going absolutely mad.

Two distinct roads stretch ahead of me, and I can choose only one to walk through. But, should I go where my heart yearns toward or where my mind leads me? Ahh, the cliched brain vs heart debacle….it seems as though it’s as old as time itself and has caught many people all over the world among its tangled web.

I have no idea what to do with myself, the clock is ticking and I have to make a decision. Luckily, I still have some time left for debating and talking it out with my mother. I swear, I’ve been dropped down into that woman’s life for the sole purpose of her guiding me through mine. She’s a saint; loving, patient, and totally behind me in whatever I choose to do. She’s my life counsler, she’s everything.

The thing is, until I can talk to the woman who birthed me face to face in a couple of weeks, I won’t be able to clear away this fog of uncertainty that clings tightly to my person like an overzealous lover. So I guess that until that time comes, I will vent my woes to cyber space, where someone out there can read my words and thoughts, and maybe feel there’s a kindred spirit out there and he or she is not alone in the world.


Que rabia me da ser castigada por los errores de otro, la verdad es que siento como que si lo que hago, por más bien que esté, no sirve para nada y nadie lo aprecia. En días como esos me pregunto ¿para qué intentar hacer las cosas bien? Si uno se esfuerza en hacer su trabajo lo mejor que puede y te recompensan mediante el castigo, sólo por meterte en la misma bolsa que los demás.

Aaargh! Es totalmente injusto, que por la mala conducta de un par de personas se condene al resto que no tiene nada que ver. Y así la cosa no vale la pena, así parece que quieren que vos tires la toalla y te rindas, porque si no te reconocen cuando hacés lo que debés y te mantenés a las reglas, ¿cuándo van a hacerlo? Me parece que si van a castigarme, tendría que haber hecho algo mal desde un principio, no cumplir con lo que se requiere de mí como lo he hecho hasta ahora.

Encima que yo me mato haciendo las cosas bien, cumplo con lo que me piden, intento ser buena persona….y todo mi esfuerzo parece ser al pedo, poque te descuidás y te clavan el puñal sin pensarlo dos veces. Y ta, me llena de impotencia, me dan ganas de mandar todo y todos a la mierda; que se vayan a la reconcha de su madre  todos los ingratos que meten a la gente en la misma bolsa. Esa gente maquiavélica que por conseguir resultados hacen lo que sea me da asco; pensá un poquito en lo que estás haciendo gil y date cuenta…..Más vale que te quieran a que te odien, porque cuando querés acordar se te fue todo el mundo y quedaste más solo que el uno. Porque cuando seas vos el que necesite ayuda, nadie va a levantar un dedo para asistirte, porque vos no hiciste nada por nadie, persiguiendo únicamente tus intereses.

Acordate, el Karma es una perra, yo duermo tranquila sabiendo que hago lo mejor que puedo para ser una buena persona ¿y vos? ¿cómo estás durmiendo?



I feel as though the World around me is in constant movement, rushing to get somewhere. And while everyone is running to and fro, for this or that, I am standing in the middle of the chaos completely still.


It seems I’ve reached the high point of my life, the climax if you will, and I just can’t help thinking it could be better….I don’t want to sound ungrateful for all the things I’ve been given, and there’s so much to be grateful for.


I’ve been up and down in the roller coaster that is life; so much excitement, so much loss that now that things have settled down I feel something is missing. I got a new job that is challenging and interesting, where I can write all day. I’m studying one of the things I really like and it’s going well even though I have missed quite a few classes in the process of acclimating to my new schedule. I live alone, keep my house clean, can pay all the bills and still have a little extra to give myself a treat or two so….can you guess what’s missing? Do you have an idea of what could be the thing that completes my days? Or should I say who?


It appears that I’m in the middle of a Queen song: I need “somebody to love”. I’m not even asking that person to love me back, I just need that queasy feeling that even talking to the one you’re crushing on seems to evoke. And maybe I’m way too picky; maybe I dismiss every available candidate ‘cause I just don’t see that they are there, right in front of me. But whatever the reason, I can’t seem to find it. I can’t find that someone that fills my stomach with butterflies and my heart with that warm tingly feeling. It’s been so long since I liked someone that way, I can barely remember what it’s like and can’t help but envy all those who have it.


And I hate myself for being so whiny when things could be soo much worse. I have been worse, I hit rock bottom and painstakingly clawed myself up to the surface to find that life went on without me and I’m missing the bus. So is it too much to ask for? A guy that, if only fleetingly, fills my life with excitement? Or maybe I’m gay and I just haven’t figured it out. The thought of being with another girl doesn’t put me off, but neither does it turn me on, shouldn’t I know who I am by now?