A Tree

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

2012

I was born on 12/12/1984, at 12:12am. 2012 is my year. I demand The World not to end in 2012. Do it in 2013.

"It is one of the beautiful compensations of this life
that no one can sincerely try to help another
without helping himself"

Ralph Waldo Emerson

A LIST OF THINGS

So many things going on. Things that happen. Unexpected things. Things one does not find a reason for. Things one would wish would not had happened. New things that happen because those unexpected and apparently terrible things laid the ground for them. Unreasonable things to my eye. Things I wished would have turned out another way. Things and people that motivate you to overcome those obstacles. Things one is willing to fight for. Things and people one would not change for anything in the world. Real things. Things that make you happy. And other things that can make you cry. Things. All kinds of things. Things. My life is made out of things. Things that shape my character. Things that have made of my personality what it is today. Things that interact with me. So many things. I want to understand those things. None of those things will push me back. None of those things will keep me from trying. New things. I want new things. I want to explore things. I want to learn new things. I do not like things that do not change. I want changing things. Evolving things. New things.

I will create a list of things that have touched my life. I'll try doing it as comprehensive as my memory and patience allow me to. Things in historical order. Things. Bad things and Good things. Though maybe as I go analyzing them, I might not find any bad things. Things that seemed inexplicable and made me question God as to why they were happening, I might be surprised to realize they needed to happen. Of course, if these things would not have happened, things would have turned out another way. But because things happened the way they did, new things turned out to be even better. And I am happy for those things. And I will be happy for even those bad things. I am sure of this and I will try to probe myself this to be the case. My things. Good things.

Homemade Delicacies II

What for?

I'm kinda losing the idea of writing in my blog. So no more anything until further notice.

Graduated!!!

And I am terribly happy :)

No Time.

No time to write anything. Nights without sleep. Building a bad-ass hybrid race car. In New Hampshire participating of the Formula Hybrid competition. Graduating in 2 weeks. And looking for jobs.

Homemade Delicacies I

Confieso que he vivido

Tengo muchas ideas y sueños que realizar, y muchas cosas por hacer una vez que me gradue. Entre ellas: Tengo que leer a Neruda.

"... Todo lo que usted quiera, sí señor, pero son las palabras las que cantan, las que suben y bajan... Me prosterno ante ellas... Las amo; las adhiero, las persigo, las muerdo, las derrito... Amo tanto las palabras... Las inesperadas... Las que glotonamente se esperan, se escuchan, hasta que de pronto caen...Vocablos amados... Brillan como piedras de colores, saltan como platinados peces, son espuma, hilo metal, rocío... Persigo algunas palabras... Son tan hermosas que las quiero poner todas en mi poema... Las agarro al vuelo, cuando van zumbando, y las atrapo, las limpio, las pelo, me preparo frente al plato, las siento cristalinas, vibrantes, ebúrneas, vegetales, aceitosas, como frutas, como algas, como ágatas, como aceitunas... Y entonces las revuelvo, las agito, me las bebo, me las zampo, las trituro, las emperejillo, las liberto... Las dejo como estalactitas en el poema, como pedacitos de madera bruñida, como carbón, como restos de naufragio, regalos de la ola... Todo está en la palabra... Una idea entera se cambia porque una palabra se trasladó de un sitio, porque otra se sentó como una reinita adentro de una frase que no la esperaba y que le obedeció...

Tienen sombra, transparencia, peso, plumas, pelos, tienen todo lo que se les fue agregando de tanto rodar por el río, de tanto transmigrar de patria, de tanto ser raíces... Son antiquísimas y recientísimas... Viven en el féretro escondido y en la flor apenas comenzada...

Qué buen idioma es el mío, qué buena lengua heredamos de los conquistadores torvos... Éstos andaban a zancadas por las tremendas cordilleras, por las Américas encrespadas, buscando patatas, butifarras, frijolitos, tabaco negro, oro, maíz, huevos fritos, con aquel apetito voraz que nunca más se ha visto en el mundo... Todo se lo tragaban, con religiones, pirámides, tribus, idolatrías, iguales a los que ellos traían en sus grandes bolsas... Por donde pasaban quedaba arrasada la tierra... Pero a los bárbaros se les caían de las botas, de las barbas, de los yelmos, de las herraduras, como piedrecitas, las palabras luminosas que se quedaron aquí resplandecientes... el idioma. Salimos perdiendo... Salimos ganando... Se llevaron el oro y nos dejaron el oro... Se lo llevaron todo y nos dejaron todo... Nos dejaron las palabras."

Pablo Neruda - Confieso que he vivido