What you expect

So many times I thought I knew, and I knew not.
So many times I saw, but didn't figure it out.
So many times I got discouraged, being the winner.
So many times I thought I had finished, yet it was only the prologue.
So many times I saw the light, when everything was actually painted black.
So many times I was rising, but thought I was falling.
So many times I was diving, yet thought I was flying.
So many times I thought it was a no, when it was a yes.
If I learned something along this way, is that great expectations are as much worthless as a great patience is priceless.

A strange feeling

Every night, I sleep 5 hours. I sleep five hours because when the night falls, I feel I have done nothing for the world (or maybe just for my world?). I refuse to sleep without a satisfied eager ti revolutionize the world.

And it's never enough. Finally I go to sleep because my body and my common sense take over. But I'm not satisfied. I sleep with a strange feeling of forgetting something important. Something I should have done or said, that would contribute to change everything. And every morning, I wake up with the strange feeling that, by night something will have changed, that I'll finally hit the nail on the head.

As hours pass by, I lose my faith. The day dies off, and I still don't get it. I seek it desperately. But once more, I go to bed and I dream. My body rests, but my soul is jaded.

Unknown

He stared at the young flames that devoured the curtains. He was reflecting, lost in a million of reflections. He reflected about nothing, thought about everything, about no one, about everyone. He thought in peace, far from everything. From the burning carpets, from the flaming furniture, from the exploding TV.

He stood up, walked to the window, flew out of the balcony. His mane waving in the void, his thougths flew free. They flew over crowded streets, green parks, charming lakes. He floated over nothingness, blind, deaf.

He suddenly felt he was thinking of something, something specific. He knew he wanted to go back home. He closed his eyes.

He opened them again, and stared in silence at the old flames that devoured the curtains.

Inspired and written (in Spanish) while I listened to "Touch me I'm going to scream Part II" of My Morning Jacket. Sponsored by my altered sleeping hours.

Insomnia

Original: spanish

Originally this text was nonsense. Now it is nonsense translated to English. Enjoy, and if you understand it (or find a serious fuckup in my language) please comment.

I can't sleep. I toss and turn, again and again. I try not to think, I try to think nonsense. I can't. Everything makes sense. Everything follows the smooth path of logic. The light that sneaks through the blinds lights the ceiling, the mirrors and the spiders. I walk a couple of blocks. The noise that sneaks through the windows is the music of a motorbike passing by, a car passing by, or the garbage truck stopping by. I can't sleep. I get up, walk to the kitchen and turn the lights on. And I open the fridge. No food, it was all gone the last time, but I had forgotten. I open the cereal cabinet, only to find some cheap rum. It's something. I go back to bed. I can't sleep. All the children are now surrounding me, staring at me. I can't sleep. I toss and turn, again and again. It's hot, I get out of the sheets. It's cold, I get back in. I turn. It's hot, I'm starting to get angry. I kick the sheets off. I get up, walk to the kitchen and open the fridge.. The light of the fridge lights the ceiling, and the spiders. There is no food, only some cheap vodka. It's something. I can't sleep. I stumble and fall on the floor under the look of the small crowd. I can't sleep. I go back to bed, but I dont lie. I decide it's a good idea to go out until I'm tired. I dress up. The streets are empty; from time to time a car passes by. In the heat of the night, I lose control, I lose my soul, I lose my head. I'm not tired yet, I run. A motorbike passes by. Somewhere in the city, an ambulance. Stupid ambulances, they think they're so big with their damn sirens and their letters on backwards. I pass by a kindergarten. A kid is staring at me. I can't sleep. I ignore why he is there so late. I look again forward, just to find him there too, holding a beach ball. I will run over him. He fades out but appears at my right side. The breeze that sneaks under the door waves the spider webs. I run faster, but they follow. I look back, they are more and more. They all have their beach balls. They all run. They all are silent. I stand up again, they almost got me. I fall again and they surround me. They stare, but they don't see. I can't sleep.

The saver

Once upon a time, there was a man who would obsessively save anything that he ever got to own.
When he was a kid, he never played with his toys or ate his candy. He would just save them. No sharing, no playing, no eating. Just saving. When the time came that he was no longer a child, he was the teen who had the largest and most cared-for collection of toys. He would sell it for a decent amount later on.

He grew up to become a student. He saved for himself everything he learned. He never shared his books, or his knowledge, and he took special care so no one would cheat in an exam on his expense, because he liked to save his answers for himself. When graduation came, he had the best marks, no one came even near to his average. He was so well prepared, that he could get the best job anytime.

He found a good job, and earned quite a lot. Nevertheless, he didn't waste that money, instead, he saved it. No pointless trips, no dumb leisure, no stupid friends, or dates with shallow women. It all went to the bank. Unsurprisingly, he became rich. When lean times came and everyone else panicked, he still had more money than he would ever use.

There is one thing he always saved, from childhood to his last days; he always saved his time. He dedicated it only to strictly necessary things. No foolish or leisure. Whenever he could, he saved his spare time. When death came, he became the most lonely and miserable corpse in the cemetery. All that time he saved, all those seconds and hours he did not "waste" went lost forever.

You can save your money in a bank, and use it later. You can save a toy, and it's value might rise as the years pass. You can save a secret and make some profit. But time ... time is waisted when measured. You use it or you lose it, you can never save it. Don't save, live.

Forever alone

The life of a human being is essentially different from that of other people, to a point that sometimes mutual understanding is impossible. Not only empathic understanding, but the most basic linguistic understanding.

If comprehension is not guaranteed between two individuals that are genetically almost identical (that is, any two people), then... what about a non-human intelligence? An extraterrestrial being, having evolved in a completely different way, maybe even with a different body chemistry, might not share our thinking logic.

Emotions, reason, science, art, progress, technology... are all human constructs, concieved in human brains. What can be said about a being that has developed something completely different than a brain? What is the definition of an intelligent life form? A conscious one? One that modifies its environment? One that can feel emotions? One that resolves equations?

By the way, there is a book (and also a movie), "Solaris", by Stanislaw Lem, that discusses this issue. The incompatibility of human intelligence with a peculiar entity: a liquid being covering the whole surface of a planet; a living ocean that has no concept of species, or groups, or communication, because it is a unique individual. Some events hint that the being "thinks", but it is not understood what, why or how. Don't worry, I did not spoil the story for you, there is much more ;)

It is very likely that we are not alone in the Universe, but, will we ever be able to talk with someone if we ever find them? Are we surrounded by life, but forever alone?

Now in English

It's been a while since I started blogging. I started with Windows Live Spaces, and that space was alive until yesterday, when Windows Live Spaces moved to WordPress. So, I was feeling a bit uneasy about owning just one blog, so it was a good time to start a new one. This time in English.

Thus, I declare this new blog officially open (I had it for a year or so, but used it as a testing wasteland).

I have no idea what this blog will look like in a week/month/year, or even if I will keep it up (because of my ever-shrinking free time). It is supposed to be a translation of the upcoming entries in my Spanish blog (Vive libre o muere), but most likely it will run its own path.

I hope you enjoy whatever comes out of my sick head and it would be great to see comments from time to time!

Regards!

E