One Day...

One day you and I will run away from here
We’ll run so fast our lungs hurt
The winds will be against us and the heavens will laugh at our foolishness
But we won’t stop till we get far enough from the life we know, far away from the people who don’t understand.
They don’t understand what we have. They don’t see what we see.
Together we are invincible, together we are the best.
We won’t look back, I’ll look at you and you’ll look at me and we will laugh with astonishment at what we’ve done.

And just like that the world will be ours.

Guess What?...

Guess What?...
Prince Charming aint so romantic after all
He’s annoying and messy
He never takes you anywhere nice and his idea of a good time is Sci Fi
He doesn’t shower on Sundays and Oh yeah, he’s got a slight gas problem

But Guess what…
He’s ridiculously loyal and you mean the world to him
He misses you when you leave and he loves all the private jokes you share

And Guess what…
You aint no picnic either Princess.

But you love him and he loves you.
So get on with it and live your fairy tale…

Sea Out-Guillemots

One of my favorite songs...I love the lyrics but I still don't fully understand them.

Oh, Marbella's on the run
In her eastern overcoat
Used to wear a light bulb dressing gown
Turn it on, then tear it down
Before we went to sleep

So Marbella upped and left
A tuba in a treble clef
Couldn't walk, she wouldn't cry
Dreaming was their only time
And dreams are half asleep

When they go sing out, sea out, sea out, sing out, sing out now
Sea out now, sing out now
Sing out, sing out, sing out, sing out, sing out now
Sea out now, sing out now

So a washed up carnival has just reduced me to my bones
I never did the washing up
I loved the stains on every cup
They were the only hint I had

Now Marbella's gone astray
Somewhere in this black'ning Milky Way
I used to colour in the holes
Now I leave them blank
Now it's only spaces I have cause to thank

Sing out, sing out, sing out, sing out, sing out now
Sing out now, sea out now
Sing out, sing out, sing out, sing out, sing out now
Sing out now, sing out

Well, Marbella is my guest
I treat her just like all the rest
Whisper fairytales of Neverland
Throw the pennies in her hand
Stroke her hair and tell her I've been cheating

Sing out, sing out, sing out, sing out, sing out now
Sing out now, sing out now
Sea out, sea out, sea out, sea out, sea out now
Sing out now, sing out now

One Fine Night...

The night air was warm and the wind was nowhere to be felt. After much consideration she had decided to get her lazy body out of the bed and into the bathroom to wash her sticky face before turning off the lights. As she stared into the bathroom mirror she was greeted by messy pulled back hair and a face flustered from the abnormal heat. But then as she looked at the background of this most peculiar portrait she discovered a bed and in it a body that had already surrendered to sleep. It was the reflection of her bed and in it the boy, who was staying over for the first. The lady in the portrait was suddenly smiling, she liked was she saw. With her face refreshed she turned of the remaining light off and quietly got into bed. The boy mumbled “Good Night” and with a swift turn got his body in a comfortable position. She answered back and closed her eyes, but secretly she wanted that final kiss that would send her off to the world of unconscious with a smile. Given the boy’s absolute immobility she gave up all hope and started to relax her body and put her busy mind at ease, and then she felt it…the boy’s arm around her waist, pulling her towards him. So she made her way to that perfect place between his arms and received the most delightful goodnight kiss. In that moment she knew exactly what she felt for the boy, her heart was filled with it.

A Beautifully Written Song...

Definetly one of my favorite songs, I love all of the wonderful imagery, and I must confess I kinda wish I had come up with something so brilliant!

Cosmic Love-By Florence and the Machine

A falling star fell from your heart and landed in my eyes
I screamed aloud, as it tore through them, and now it's left me blind

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart

And in the dark, I can hear your heartbeat
I tried to find the sound
But then it stopped, and I was in the darkness,
So darkness I became

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart

I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map
And knew that somehow I could find my way back
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too
So I stayed in the darkness with you

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart

The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out
You left me in the dark
No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight
In the shadow of your heart

The Good Part of My Day...

“What am I to you?” asked the boy with a perplexed look on his face.

The minute that question came out of his mouth she knew she was in trouble, she was being forced to talk about her feelings, and that was about the scariest and cruelest thing you could ever do to her. With a nervous smile on her face she began: “Well I have lots fun with you…you keep me entertained that’s for sure!” … “I really enjoy spending time with you”. And every time she opened her mouth to say something that would hopefully get her out of the hole she was digging herself into, she saw disappointment taking over a bigger portion of his face.

But what she supposed to do? Admit that she was truly happy to have him in her life. That when she closed her eyes at night she could still feel that final kiss of the night, that when she woke up in the morning for a split second she thought of him and that was enough to initiate the first smile of the day. That for the first time in her life she didn’t feel like running, her heart wanted to stick around this time. That she could actually come out hurt this time. So she stopped blabbering for a few seconds and with a sincere and terrified look on her face she said the following: “Let’s just say you’re the good part of my day”

“Fair enough” said the boy as he let out an amused smile and took his girlfriend’s nervous hand.

Programmed to Love...

As I look at the people in my life I can’t help but wonder if somehow we were all programmed to always do certain things or follow certain patterns throughout our lives. For example, I am convinced that my mother was programmed to ORGANIZE, it doesn’t matter if she is at home, on vacation, healthy or sick, happy or sad, she will find something to organize, whether it be her already neat closet, my messy drawers, or her suitcase (if traveling). In my father’s case, he was programmed to be METICULOUS, to carry out any assigned task with the most careful detail and precision, whether it be repairing a broken object, washing his car, or folding the supermarket bags. My brother on the other hand was programmed to STRESS OUT, whether its car problems, a home repair, difficult clients, or a case of things not going his way he will stress out. I for one, was programmed to DAY DREAM, no matter how serious the situation or how important the task I’m carrying out my mind will always drift, to a place that exists only to me, where it’s peaceful and most importantly where I can be whoever I wish. My best friend was programmed to explore the world in search of NEW KNOWLEDGE; his university studies appear to have no end and his list of degrees and titles keeps growing. I don’t see him very often, but when I do I know he’ll tell about some new insane research project his working on. Finally as I look at my fat orange cat I realize he too was definitely programmed to do one specific thing, he was programmed to LOVE. Besides eating and sleeping his greatest joy in life is to spend time with me and stare at me adoringly, humbly asking in return a little company and a good scratch on the back. I feel lucky that he was programmed that way, and that he ended up in my home, because every day he reminds me that there is still pure, undiluted goodness in this world.

A Year Later....

Dear Dad,

A year ago you called me up in the middle of the morning and as always your call brought a little sunshine into my lifeless routine. I gladly answered the phone and you seemed upbeat. You told me you were going on a short road trip, and as always I wished you a safe trip and you promised to call when you got there. We shared a final laugh and I asked you to be careful.

Well, your call never came. Instead I received a much more painful alternative. In just one second I knew my life was forever changed, from now on it would always be sadder no matter what....you where gone. Life took you away from me. I shall always refer to that day, as the day I was forced to grow up, to experience a concentrated dose of pain that left me numb and heartbroken, and with time it made me stronger.

I must say that friends and family really came out to join me in mourning your loss, yet as I stared into the packed room I knew that I was the one missing you the most. But most importantly I was aware that I knew something that none of them knew: what an incredibly sweet, kind, and noble person you are; and I knew that confidential knowledge trusted to me made me in some way special. It meant you had allowed me into your life, that I was able to be a friend to you, and you had offered me a piece of your being your rarely shared with anyone.

I miss you and I love, and everytime I hear something funny I want to call you and share it with you. We sure had some good laughs, and let me tell you when we laughed together that was when I knew life could be sweet and good.

A Little Note...

I found me a reason to smile till my cheeks hurt

A reason to stop making sense
A reason to believe that today might just be a good day

A reason to believe that the world in fact can be a beautiful place

I found you.

An Open Letter to the Universe

2009 has been a radically different year than 2008 for me. At first glance it doesn’t seem that way, I still wake up every morning at 7, and rush through traffic to get to the same office, where I sit on the same desk and do the same work. I still live in the same house where every night I crash into the same couch to watch some TV with the two same adorable orange cats. Some nights I still go out with the same group of friends and the jokes and the gossip are pretty much the same. But there is one immense difference; I can no longer call that kind hearted man every time I have some silly thing on my mind, or simply because I want to know what my favorite person on earth has been up to. After work I no longer drive up to that house which contains my life story, where I am no longer greeted with a warm hug and a great big smile. I no longer have my dad with me. Without noticing the days have passed and it has been 10 months since my sweet dad died. As it usually happens with the sudden death of a loved one, I feel there are many things I was not able to tell him. Many times have I fantasized of the possibility of writing them all down, and thanks to some cosmic fluke my dad was able to read them. So if I were to write such a letter here’s how it would read:

Dear Dad,
I know you and I are not the most expressive or emotional people on the planet, and there were many things we never said and certain topics we never touched upon, however now I feel a strong desire to share a few things with you, so please bare with me:

1. First of all 10 months, hell even 1 month is too long to go without one of your hugs. I got my last hug at the age of 24, and it still felt just as good and comforting as when I was 5.

2. You are my favorite person ever; I value your opinion more than anyone’s and I truly felt privileged every time we hung out. Beer never tasted better than in your excellent company.

3. You may or may not now this but sometimes I did crazy shit and still continue to do so from time to time, but what has always stopped me from going overboard is my fear of disappointing you. I hope in some way or another I made you proud, because I sure as hell am proud to be your daughter.

4. A lot of people say I am a lot like you and I couldn’t be happier. I love that I have your same sense of humor, your love of music, television and movies, that I’m just as cynical and incapable of showing emotion as you. Thank you for sharing with me your love of random facts and the beauty and power of written words.

5. Even though we never talked about boys, I have to tell you I think I have the subject pretty figured out. Don’t worry I had an excellent male figure; I know what a true man looks like.

6. Ever since I began working I’ve realized that every dime earned takes effort, so thank you for all that you’ve given me. Being an honest hard working family man is nothing short of remarkable.

7. It was a great feeling to go through life knowing that I had someone who really got me and who would always have my back. I’ve had a rough time dealing with having that taken away from me, but I still carry with me all the great memories and all the cool stuff you taught me.

8. Although you never said you love me I know you did, you showed it every single day of your life by being there for me, by being my friend, my mentor, my protector. I know I never said I love you, but I hope you knew. Hopefully I was able to be a good friend to you, a confidant to share your problems with, and someone who always had your back.

9. My life will never be the same without you, new people may come into my life but they will never fill that void you left. Every day I get little reminders that you are gone, and every time I feel my heart break just a little bit more. I don’t intend to let your memory fade anytime soon, and the best way I can is by writing, humbly putting together a few words to remind myself and tell whoever wants to read them what you mean to me.

10. Finally I just wanted to say thank you, it has truly been a privilege!

Related post: Sonata For a Good Man

Le Plus Inattendu....

He was nothing like the men who usually caught her attention. He wasn’t dangerously charming; as a matter of fact he was a bit quiet and at first glance seemed somewhat dull. He didn’t say things that swept anybody off their feet; instead he was somewhat awkward and quite frankly unnecessarily blunt. He wasn’t dark and handsome; he was completely unremarkable and a bit frumpy. He wasn’t a man who led a particularly interesting life; instead he was content in the anonymity of his quiet existence. So then why was it that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, that she spent a good part of the day yearning to feel his touch and to be in the presence of his smile, a smile so sincere it made her heart swell? Then why was it that the most perfect place in the universe was in his arms?

Could it be because every time she was ready to give up on him he said something so unexpectedly sweet it made her forget any annoyance? Could it be that every time he kissed her he did so, tenderly but with an undertone of passion that left her breathless? Could it be that every time he looked at her he did so with a wonderment reserved for things of magnificance? Could it be because every time he made love to her, he made sure not to leave an inch of her body neglected?

The boy had come unexpectedly into her life and somehow had managed to turn it upside down. It had been weeks since she stopped making any sense and she hated the fact that she cared if he called, that she felt her heart sink when that call didn’t come. She got mad when she would catch herself day dreaming of him in the middle of work or when her mind involuntarily drifted away to the events that had occurred the previous night in his bedroom. She hated the fact that he had the power to make her mad, to make her smile, to make her act downright silly. What she hated even more was that it was her who had allowed this to happen; somehow she had let him into her life and from the look of things, into her heart.

Of the Heart and Happiness

In several occasions she had invited gentlemen into her bed, but never into her life. They had touched her body, but gotten nowhere near her heart. They had left the warmth of their touch on her skin, but not a trace of it could be found in her heart. Her memories were filled with moments of passion, but never of intimacy. She welcomed physical proximity but insisted on emotional distance. Throughout the years she had encountered several gentlemen worthy of her attention, but never had she met anyone worthy of one of her tears, of one of her heartbeats.

From an early age she decided her heart was hers, and wasn’t meant to be shared. For the most part her heart was a willing prisoner, it rarely protested of its confinement. However, from time to time it wondered what was out there. It was in these rare moments that she considered the possibility of allowing herself to feel something, with the modest hope that the other person felt the same way. But when she thought of the prospect of giving her heart away to someone so recklessly, to give someone the ability to hurt her, she immediately gave up on the idea and continued life as usual.

The men in her life brought her momentary amusement, moments of laughter, hell even moments of joy, and that was all she expected from them. She thought it was silly to go searching for happiness with a man, instead she found it in herself, in life and the beautiful treasures of everyday. Her happiness was hers and that made her smile.

Its important to know your place in life!...

"Don't me tell this clown is moving in with us!"-protested the feline...."Shut up Cat, don't ruin this for me!"-whispered the woman..."Well I'm not sharing the couch"-continued the cat..."Enough Cat!"..."Well I'm just saying, its important he knows his place around here"-concluded the cat smugly.

A cruel joke...

She wondered why life had played such a cruel joke on her. Who could she talk to, who could correct the grave injustice that was her existence? Was there some sort of cosmic complaint department? “A terrible mistake has been made!”-she screamed out to the nothingness. But there was no answer, just a blanket of stars to witness her tears and the cover of night to embrace her.

Ahhh...l'amour!

“You’re one odd fellow, did you know that?” she said to the awkward boy holding her hand, as a smile threatened to take over her whole face. She was so thrilled to be able to see in him what nobody else saw. In that vast urban sea of anonymity she had stumbled upon a remarkable treasure undetected by everyone but her. She had found a great big awkward heart to love her own lonely heart.

“I wish we could go back to a time when you still remembered why you liked me” said the man. “Oh I remember all right, it’s just that I’ve begun to question the validity of those reasons” replied the woman dryly.

Saying "I love you" is like holding a gun at someone's head...in both cases there's usually just one right answer.

"Humans are overrated" said the Girl. "Actually they're not half bad" thought the Cat.

She rearranged the stars so they wouldn't be so far appart. "No one should be so alone...not tonight"she thought.

As I stared up into the night sky, the stars seemed to smile back....And for that one night the world was beautiful. It was mine.

The Honduras Chronicles Part I

It’s been almost two weeks since our FORMER President Manuel Zelaya was graciously escorted out of the country, and during this whole ordeal I have felt a range of emotions from anger to pride to hope. It’s amazing how different I feel since this crisis exploded, I see myself, my country, my fellow countrymen, and the world in a whole new light. Here’s a little account of what life has been like for this proud Honduran amidst a political crisis.

I must admit that the last few weeks have been tense and filled with uncertainty, but other than that I truly believe that right now is an exciting time to be Honduran. I have witnessed history in the making. I have seen how people have put aside their differences, political and personal in order to defend the liberties and freedoms, we had once taken for granted. I think never before had so many Hondurans read the constitution! As Hondurans we have realized that we are capable of being bold, hell I think we are capable of greatness!

DEALING WITH UNCERTAINTY…
The week leading up to the expulsion of Mel Zelaya, I saw how our president was becoming more erratic in his behavior and his speeches became more leftist (in a very nasty, if your poor it’s the rich people’s fault kind of way). I literally went to bed every night not knowing where our country was headed; I could just feel a shit storm was brewing! On Sunday June 28, 2009 I awoke to the sound of military fighter planes circling the beautiful skies of my city, Tegucigalpa. I opened one eye and saw my alarm clock was blank, hence no power. I heard my mother had just woken up and I told her “Either Mel Zelaya was taken out of office or those are Hugo Chavez’s planes”. My mom was able to find a small battery-powered radio but all the radio stations were off the air! Finally I was able to tune a station, and I received confirmation that the President was removed from power and flown to Costa Rica. I knew things where not normal and that my country was starting a difficult road, but above all I felt relief that that mad man was gone!

Exactly a week later after these events, it was announced that the ex president would attempt to return to the country. Both the international community and leaders of the Catholic and Evangelical churches begged him not to return yet, out of fear that confrontation between his followers and police/military would surely result in deaths. Around noon that day, the new government announced that Zelaya would not be allowed to enter the country, in an effort to prevent violence. Despite that, around 5pm a private plane (owned by PDVSA, the national Venezuelan oil company), with Zelaya allegedly in it, began to make its approach towards the runway in Tegucigalpa. Mind you, the plane had no authorization to land, and yet it entered Honduran airspace with some its locator devices turned off, making its detection harder. Apparently the plan lead by Hugo Chavez was that Mel’s supporters would storm the runway, which was being guarded by the military, in order to create a sort of human shield if you will, for the now ex-president and take him to the Presidential House. In the end the military where able to control the crowds and was able to block the runway. Unfortunately, one of the protesters was killed, nonetheless I feel the outcome could have been worse, and I applaud the military for its restrain. I have to point out that I find it disgusting that Mel Zelaya and Hugo Chavez where calling for the protestors to come into direct clash with the military, they wanted to see deaths, to create martyrs for their cause, shame shame on you! That being said, I was glued to the TV hoping that this wouldn't result in a massacre. I now nervously wonder what will happen this Sunday, I think us Hondurans deserve a break from all the drama!

NEWS NEWS AND MORE NEWS….
As most Hondurans I have become a news junkie! Before leaving for work I have my coffee with the news turned on, I get to work Im reading two online newspapers at the same time, my boss has the news radio on, and afterwards we swap printed newspapers between colleagues. When I get home, I can’t wait for it to be 5:30, when the first newscasts begin. It’s exhausting but I feel a compulsive need to be informed, helps me deal with all this uncertainty.

Since I’m on the topic of news, I can’t begin to express how frustrated and angry I feel about CNN one-sided coverage of the events occurring in my country. Here in Honduras we’ve began referring to it as Chavez News Network. Its reporters hardly ever speak about the countless acts of corruption of our former administration and how many of us favor the new government.

SOME FINAL THOUGHTS…
I don’t like seeing my country divided between those who support the removal of Mel Zelaya and those who favor him, and I’m aware that our situation is serious and so far a clear solution in nowhere in sight. However I am hopeful that Honduras will make it out of this one, and in the process we shall become politically more mature and from now on we shall demand greater accountability from our leaders. I also hope that we do not see any more deaths as a result of this crisis; human life is precious and should not be wasted on behalf of personal interest of individuals and struggles for power. We are a small country, with a weak economy, and no oil, but nonetheless we deserve to be respected and it shall be us who decide the future of our nation. Venezuela, Nicaragua, or any other nation: you have no right to interfere! Finally I want to tell the world that democracy now more than ever, is alive and well in this so called “Banana Republic” of 7 million and a half brave souls.

-Das Ende-

There was a City Written in the Sea...

Last week I was fortunate enough to visit 3 wonderful Brazilian cities: Brasilia, Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro. In my opinion each of these cities is unique and special in its own right, and they all have lovely and helpful people, who made my trip that much more enjoyable. Upon my return, I was eager to tell everyone about the wonderful architecture of Brasilia and the sophistication of Sao Paulo, yet I noticed people had a marked interest for Rio de Janeiro, they wanted to know absolutely everything about this legendary metropolis. So it is for this reason that I’ve decided to dedicate my first post to this marvelous city by the sea.

So how do I begin to describe this culturally rich and complex city? How can I, a mere passerby accurately portray this cluster of more than 10 million souls interacting daily, existing side by side. More importantly have I understood the soul of the city, that unique energy that makes Rio de Janeiro different from any other? Rio de Janeiro is a city of contrasts, not only geographically but economically, and for this reason it is many things to different people. So should I talk about the glamorous Rio filled with luxurious condos overlooking the sea and private yachts docked? Or should I talk about the populous favelas (slums) tucked in the surrounding hills, under the watchful eye of Christ the Redeemer? In reality, all I can do is describe Rio through a pair of fresh, uncorrupted eyes that are taking in all the sights, energy and people for the very first time.

As I’m preparing to deliver my account of this city, many scenes flash through my mind: The mellow feel of Copacabana beach, right there in the heart of the city, with its street vendors and sun worshipers; the hip and youthful atmosphere of Ipanema beach with its crowd of pretty, young things enjoying the surf and the social scene; the busy downtown where it seems some actual work gets done; the Pao de Azucar, the landmark hill that offers an incredible view of all the city; the spiraling road up to the Corcovado, with its many quaint houses where poor, rich, and middle class fit seamlessly; the North side, the less glamorous side of town, where the privileged few of Copacabana, Ipanema, and Leblon are left far behind to give way to the sobering reality of most of its inhabitants. So, is Rio essentially the sum of vastly different areas? Is it precisely the contrasts that define Rio or is there one common denominator that transcends beyond geography and economic class?

My mind is going in all directions trying to find a concise answer to these questions, when all of a sudden a solitary phrase floats through my head: “No mar estava escrita uma cidade”, which roughly translates to: “there was a city written in the sea”. I first encountered this phrase in my initial walk through Copacabana; there it was, engraved right next to the statue of its author, the great Brazilian poet Carlos Drummond de Andrade. I thought it was so simple and yet so beautiful. Now I realize that there was much more to this line, in 6 words it captured the essence of Rio de Janeiro. Like planets around the sun, the lives of cariocas (Rio natives) revolve around the ocean. The sun has just come up and the boardwalk of Copacabana is already filled with people, whether it’s for a spirited stroll or jog, a bike ride, some early surfing, or a quick splash in the water. As the day progresses the beaches are never lonely, its seems as if cariocas are pulled to the sea in search of life, in search of fuel for their souls. In the sand, class lines fade, for the sun and the sea do not know of inequality, they are noble, existing only to restore the hearts and bodies of a people whose lives are written in the sea.