Friday, February 20, 2009

for us

Selly from wartezenstein on Vimeo.


According to the dictionary, memory is the mental capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving facts, events, impressions, etc., or of recalling or recognizing previous experiences.

My husband has difficulty remembering mundane events of daily living. He forgets where he places a spoon, a bill, or if he cleaned the cat box already. He is only 37, yet he tells me: Así siempre he sido. The strange thing is that he never forgets sunsets or a sunrise. He never forgets to tell me goodnight. I, on the other hand, forget words. I insert a wrong word here and there like dropping trambones in a piano sonata.
I think our poor memory took a bad turn the other day when we forgot our wedding anniversary . We didn't seem bothered, on the contrary, we laughed about it. Perhaps one day we'll forget our birthdays, Christmas Day, 15 de September and 2 de octubre. We will forget to look for mama whale and baby whale in the afternoon skies. We'll forget chocolate ice cream, our cats, and blueberry pancakes. Our memory will become a long Saturday afternoon, still and orange.

Monday, February 16, 2009

strawberries came early

After having time for myself, I came home and my husband surprised with this photograph. He took the strawberries out of the Driscoll's ugly plastic box and placed them in my favorite green bowl. I thought of William Carlos Williams and his poem about plums.

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
savingfor breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

Of course, my husband later confessed that he didn't eat any of the strawberries claiming they were delicious, so sweet, but so filled with chemicals........

de regreso

La creatividad y la gueva son amigos traviesos......o la creatividad a veces se disfrasa de gueva para burlarse de la persona quien la espera......wait, wait....stop......writing in Spanish makes me self conscious. It makes me uncomfortable thinking about accents, spelling, and grammar. I have my husband next to me. I could easily ask him where an accent goes, etc....but it's tiring. It's an interruption. It's a test of his patience (which he does have), but I don't like to interrupt him.

What was I saying about creativity and laziness? Actually, I really don't have a point. I just wanted to fill an empty space with words (more like babble). I came today to record the day. Nothing exciting or remarkable happened, except:

1. I made my kick ass enchilandas for dinner
2. I finally finished my sewing projects
3. I managed to get off my sorry ass and go outside for a long walk
4. I didn't work today because it was a holiday
5. Rain woke me up.
6. I drove my husband to work (this made me happy because he loves his bike more than my car).
7. Our cats slept on our bed for most of the day (I love it when this happens because I have an excuse for not making the bed)
8. I managed not to do any school work
9. I saw half a rainbow during my afternoon walk. A half rainbow is better than none.

I think these are enough words for today.

Monday, February 2, 2009

and she dreams of the past (again)

She's lost control

Sometimes I have to look at myself in the mirror (as cliché as it sounds) to see if I am the person I once dreamed of..... The problem is that I don't exactly remember the dream. There were so many candy cotton dreams.

I don't even know if I once was the 17 year old girl I remember now. Was it a dream too? The white tennis shoes. The Ian Curtis poster. Hours spent in my bedroom , not dreaming my life away, but dreaming my dreams away.

I still dream, but my dreams are different these days. The I want to be dreams are less. The I want to have dreams have also diminished.

Because I dream, I am not
(from the film Leolo)