At the Powerhouse Museum

http://artefact.powerhousemuseum.com/

Rage

Yesterday I felt for the very first time how my blood became thicker and rushed from my finger-tips to my head when I heard the name of certain person that recently tried to harm me. Afterwards, I felt bad with myself because I felt not only anger, but something quite similar to hate. Like in a bad cliche, I had to go down to the pool and literally swam the feeling away. The water absorbed all that bad energy.

Time goes by

Wow, it's been almost seven months since I last wrote something here. It was not that I had nothing to say, on the contrary, lots of stuff were going on. I confess it was my office, I had so many things to do that I completely forgot about myself... and my friends and my family and my hobbies and that part of my job that I really used to love and enjoyed with a deep, true passion... and well, the list could go on and on. I guess this happens to everyone once or twice in a life. But it's so hard to let go. After all, offices are usually part or our routine and as time goes by most of them become part of our comfort zone. And if you don't stop, if you don't get the courage to stop or just to do something about this never ending spiral of work-home-eat-sleep-work-home-eat-sleep you do die a little, you become a hollow man.
A few months ago I remembered who I was when I was younger, I remembered the passion that used to move me every time I got a new assignment. I'm only 32, but still, there was a younger version of me who wanted to take pictures and travel around the world and become a writer.
I recently rediscovered my long lost love of toast with honey and butter and that tingly sensation that coffee produces in your mouth when you really enjoy it -not when you just drink it real quick to actually wake up, and it felt so good.
I'm not complaining, I'm just trying to rediscover who am I. Better now than never. I would have loved to be in this position when I was twenty-something, but it was impossible. If a look back, I think I wasted most of my twenties. If I were writing a biography, my twenties would most definitely be the wasted years, but I'll dwell about latter -and most surely I will have a different version of them as I get older and hopefully wiser.
At 32 I get a chance to star almost all-over again, and it feels great!

Sometimes I wonder if there is something terribly wrong with me, I prefer a good novel over a good poem. Although, I constantly read my beloved Rumi collections and my beloved T.S. Eliot poems (Portrait of a Lady and The Love Song…), I guess it's time to read some more poetry. Ideas? Suggestions?

my top ten list of popcorn-lit

Books that will only make you happy, the written version of chick-flicks.

1. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
2. Bridget Jones: The Age of Reason (so much better than the first one), H. Fielding
3. The Alchemist (yes, yes, I read it, and enjoyed it), Paulo Cohelo
4. Strain, Guillermo del Toro
5. Mal de amores, Ángeles Mastreta
6. Memoirs of a Geisha, Arthur Golden
7. How to be Good, Nick Hornby
8. 84, Charing Cross Road, Helene Hanff (heartbreaking, lovely)
9. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, J.K. Rowling (my favourite)
10. Arráncame la vida, Ángeles Mastreta

worth dying for?

I couldn't help it. I thought of C while I read this entertaining story about George Clooney. And not because they look alike –although, maybe in 20 years, when C's got more gray hair, but because he is always talking about the actor, his projects and bla, bla, bla. But I definetly prefer Mr. Clive Owen. Here is the link to Time, just in case you want to read it.

George Clooney

more muppets & sesame street characters

Wonder what might had happend if this cover had hit the stands in 2001?