The conquered ground is child's play

With some strong minded men or women, I often cave in. I talk more than I should or simply shy away. In every interaction, however, I should most importantly bear in mind the following: “I am less afraid than you are.” It is incredibly seductive to be the dominant type, to have the psychological upper hand, and in most situations, I do. The thing is, my previous mindset, that of a spineless, weaker being, sometimes it still surfaces and I behave in unusual ways. I see myself as if I were mentally bowing, as if my head was tilted in a submissive way, and I need to snap out of it. Everyday, whenever I see myself “bowing”, I stop and think: I am stronger than this. At least, I am as strong as anyone in front of me. This is the image I want to project; the one I look at myself in the mirror has no place for niceties or unmerited generosity. The idea is to inspire respect in others by treating ourselves with plenty of respect, not to fool around or be too playful with others.
And interestingly enough, it occurs to me more often with people I know for longer. The ones who knew me before I shed off the weaker skin, the ones who don’t see me as I see myself but often as I was. And it is with them whom I unleashed my most virulent fights. I struggled to conquer these fears, this tendency to submit myself, after years and years of living under other people’s rule. Throughout my infancy and well into my adolescent years, I lived in places I couldn’t call my own. Luckily, I had Alberto come into my mother’s life, perhaps a sense of pride and respect I got from him. I remember vividly his advice: “No one will take you seriously if you are the first to bow.”
And to this date, I have yet to incorporate such teaching deeply into my subconscious. I am who I decide and act upon, the personality and character I choose, the fancy clothes I wear, the healthy body I work for, the things I do and the things I don’t. And I have done enough lately, I’ve analyzed myself roughly; I’ve conquered so much ground. Now, this too is an aspect to implement, a challenge to take.
And I love those.

Focus on Beauty

Beauty is a challenge, a shift of mind, focus. Tomorrow I'll jog one hundred blocks.
Beauty is a leaner body, a clearer mind, an item of vanity. Have that dental work, and if it's not enough I'll say it a thousand times: get in shape, subscribe to a gym as of this coming week. Read, and write, and publish with serious intent to sale, promote your literature. That is beauty, to embrace the dream, to be gradually and effortlessly better, to have this second nature skin peeling off the old one, like a shiny brand new coin. You need to see that this moment is entirely unique, don't spend a second more trapped in your mind. What I think, and how I see myself, will become reality, regardless of what I want. So, choose carefully the thought, like you would food. Get a pair of cool black shoes, nothing too expensive, nothing cheap either. Work more hours, and still go home and work out. Wake up earlier, jog. Buy running gear, it'll get you in that mindset. Today, you did good. You kept your distance and it was as though she was in another land, not messing as much with me. Dependency, you can sense it, in too much involvement with one another, spending to much time mingled together. Stop talking so much, pecking each other too much. Be rude and indifferent, or step outside and come back if the moment merits it. You don't get anywhere with words; take action somehow, don't respond.
You did the grocery shopping. You wrote endlessly, and kept to yourself (I don't tire of saying so). Like inmates, we have to stop and keep our distance, don't be too mushy mushy. That is beauty. Now is time to relax.
You paid the bills, except the gas. Everyday aim at doing something you haven't done, something unique, even if it is exercise or not smoking for a few days.

Do The Things You Said You Would

Chopin's Raindrops played on the iTunes program running on my computer, the night falling, the kid incorrigible running around, overcoming every obstacle placed there in order to stop, not encourage him. Yet, time and again, he'd persevere and conquer. I'd given up on trying to stop him, now I had began to admire his courage and resilience. Then Aerosmith's Dream On came on. Again, I'd think of a thought that overcame me when I lied motionless on bed, struck and broken down by a severe depression. The solution is simple: do the things you said you'd do. Exercise, file your taxes, book a fight to Barranquilla for the end of the year, take a 3-day cruise with Isabel and spend a few days with Paola in Miami. Three days, the most. Go to South Beach at night, the beach on daytime, splendid. Pay what you owe and work more hours, buy yourself a nice pair of black shoes, spectacular for the job. Look your best, nothing fights off depression like planning ahead, waking up earlier, eating healthier, meditating, focusing and writing. Apply for the passport, have that done with. Become a Fire Safety Director by the end of the year, or at the beginning of the next one, as latest. Earn enough so that Isabel doesn't have to work another full-time. Keep pouring money away at my retirement through the 401K. Once the income tax money comes in, we'd be a lot less stressed and things will work out for the best in the end. Just hang in there, push and don't be such a coward. Talk to a lot of girls, get numbers like crazy, throw them away, and live the single life you haven't lived ever since your four month vacation came to an abrupt end.

Suddenly awakened

And so, the idea is to propel myself yet again by going back to training full-time, stop playing with my ear, write and write and then write some more –in Spanish, this time. And mess with every single girl I know or could potentially know, in a subtle, wicked way, like only I know how. I sort of did today, and still it haunted me the fact that as of yet I haven’t got a haircut, and I need to. I went to bed slightly later than usual, did the dirty deeds with Elizabeth, and woke up feeling sluggish, almost as if I were in pain. I focused on making it go away by being one with my suffering, offering no obstacle or resistance. In a few moments, before I began my shift, I felt a lot better.
There’s this whole universe unraveling around me, especially in the subway. Glances, attitudes, bodies in proximity both repelled and excited by the forbidden. It is as if we wanted to, but couldn’t; as if we were staring at the ripe fruit on the tree within an arm’s reach and were somehow petrified by the thought of giving in. And giving in, is what we should. See each other at close scope, almost as if we were about to kiss but instead marvel a bit in such abandonment, somewhere where there are no prying eyes, no ugly rigidness, just pure fun and sheer thrill. Do so effortlessly, quietly, no pretensions, no submissiveness, straightforwardness. We were put on this earth to love one another freely, no boundaries, like the affection given to a baby. How much affection we get then and how little of it is left, all out of fear that we may offend another? It is childish, love that is, and that is how we choose to play; a masquerade, a cruel puzzle, a labyrinth full of distorted mirrors, a road paved on thorns and petals. Suddenly awakened, I feel the urge to run to you, to rapture you, to ravish you, to inflict some of the pain I’ve endured as of yet with all the firm tenderness and courage of a thousand Romeos, rid of guilt and that sense of embarrassment, feeling inadequate.