On my own

Isabel and the kids left for a few days. I miss them before they were gone. My baby, through the glass, aimed at my image. It's an image I can't forget, him in the car trying desperately to open the door for me.
This represents the perfect opportunity for me to see how life can be without them, how to adapt and survive on my own. I am the sole provider home, and there won't be any food cooked when I get home. There won't be for days, a teenage headache, a nagging woman, a crying baby late into the wee hours of night. Yesterday, I wanted to go and meet with my cousins in order to go to a friend of ours' birthdate. But then it rained, and then my cousin had completely forgotten about it and I found myself walking home under a cold persistent rain. Winter nights, seasonal moodiness, loneliness and solitude awaiting me home. I managed well the first night; I slept soundly on Vangelis' bed, talking to strangers on the web, drinking, smoking a cigar, and not a single complaint. It was so lovely, I almost did not miss going out and mingling which I will get to do in the upcoming weekend days.
I have been thinking and rethinking my approach, easing my deeply rooted fears of abandonment and rejection. In the process, I’ve failed to see that though I have made undeniable progress that is not my mission. I need to define myself and set some attainable goals, work harder than I have up to now and unravel unto the next level. Commitment, a clear sense of purpose, a moment of leisure here and there… I must somehow make all of the pieces fall into place and at the same time never be complete. The idea is to start all over again from the very beginning and be better than the day before and much better still the following day. But I’m not even close, this is a time of reflection and relaxation, a time to spend time with and by myself and why not indulge in some mindless activities as well. Tonight like every other night from here on will be an endless celebration. I will call everyone, meet with whoever wants to meet, be what I want to be, explore new places, make new contacts, live completely immersed in the moment and experience the life in front of me.

Pfizer Girl is back

On the day Pfizer Girl returned with her diamond green princess dress, I had that rare feeling that there might be a God –with capital g –after all. For as long as she was gone, not a single day passed that something reminded me of her. And many times, I said to myself, if she were to appear around here this very instance, I would grab her and kiss her right on spot. Such was my obstinate desire to see her once more that whenever I went around time, I’d often imagine bumping into her by mere luck and simply saying: “Hey.”
I would relive the last moment as a testament to my ever-so indecisiveness towards the fair sex. I have, believe me, made undeniable progress in respect to my shy character. No living soul that has come across me can testify to me being anything other than extroverted.
For a moment there, I must admit, I thought I was hallucinating. After almost a year and a half of absence, her sudden presence in this environment seemed downright unreal. All the unbearable pain I had suffered recently from my failed relations with Angelica vanished out of sight. A foolish man (or woman) once said that you fall out of love when you begin to fall again, or some nonsense of that sort. In reality, I thought, maybe, I was transferring a state of emotion for another and the girls seemed just a pretext for my wicked mind to go from here to there without so much as an effort. But it was so much more than that. It was, and I hate to admit, a miracle.

Beauty Against Ugly

I saw the girl as the train ceased to make its entrance on the station through the glass on the door and she chose the wagon because I called her with my mind –nothing fancy, really, just takes practice and focus. You look at her in a way no else has –or very few dared. It’s not a provocative look, not a come-on stare either –on the contrary, it’s a look that, to me, it says, “I’m very masculine, I’m proud, I’m tall, I’m strong, I’m completely relaxed, I’m unafraid or at least a thousand times more daring than you, you can be the girl,” and so on. The look says above all, “I’m immoveable”, and so naturally the girl or any other girl that appreciates her sense of vanity sees me as a desirable item. That is why I think it is a look that bears some resemblance with a mannequin.
Mannequins are very instructive symbols, their elegant posture, their slender figure, their unbothered and aimless stare that has both airy and forwardness.

The Masterplan

School: You don't have to go back at it full time, the whole nine yards. Just pick the brains out of it, take courses in literature, sculpt yourself. Thinking of which, getting a certificate in nutrition and fitness sounds like a good first step. Also, make sure that by the time little Esteban turns five, you have at the very least an Associate degree.
Exercise: Just face it: you're fat. And at this rate, you'll only get fatter. Now, the idea is not to beat yourself up about it. After all, one of the reasons people who are fat stay fat has to do with the stress they put on themselves for being so. So, start a routine exercise as of today. Shed some pounds. Visualize yourself lighter, and everyday do some physical activity. Make a calendar and track your progress.
Write & publish: The other night you surprised me. You just went ahead and published something you had written somewhere. Well, don't stop now. Do it again and while perfecting it to make it a decent book, make sure you know there's no perfection. Perfection is boring.
Move out: Have the clan ready to move out. Enough of this filthy tiny place. Enough Bronx. Tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, we'll go and strenghen the stranded relationship with aunt Astrid and look for a place to live in Queens. Isabel can later transfer to the restaurant in Queens. Or maybe find herself a job at the airport. That way Michael can leave me home when we go out.