Dissociation dissolved

I was listening to "dust in the wind" on the right hand side. The video from 1977.

I was typing about the direction of artificial intelligence on the left. I speak on stage tomorrow.

I'm bleeding, so I ache deeply like a shovel of dark fertile compost. I ate too much spicy jungle curry, so my stomach is swirling like an oil spill. I'm in Dublin, in an old catholic boys boarding school which has since become a hotel, sitting at an old wooden desk.

I look up into the mirror that seems to be a part of the old desk and I see myself for the first time in many years. I am looking back at me with the same look I had once when I painted a self-portrait in high school for art class. A little bit sad, a little bit trapped, a great depth of meaning, a tough kid saying "don't mess with me" and a little girl saying "i'm fragile." Round, small, close-together eyes and purple eye bags. Narrow face and a look like I've been thinking too much and breathing too little.

My face is back. I thought.

Wait - I recognize myself.

I haven't recognized myself for a while. "I don't recognize myself," I used to tell my partner. It was after a long phase of wanting to return to some sort of recognizeable state, after I had achieved all my dreams and there was not a lot left to do for myself. The only imaginable goals depended on other people. I found that other person, and I found I couldn't push and force them brutally through a mountain like I could myself - by turning into a ghost, penetrating a few boulders and osmosising through to the other side. If you use that technique on others they get injured quickly. So there I sat, on one side of the mountain, a bit cold and lost.

"I don't recognize myself," I would tell him, on the bad days when I had no sense of time or transformation or development or rebellion. "What do you mean?" He'd say, hurt and a bit afraid; not knowing if I was being dramatic or philosophical or mad. "I'm a bit mad," I'd confess. I had read about dissociation. It meant if you looked in the mirror you didn't know who it was. You look down on your hands, your thighs, your wobbly knees, and you'd feel like it's not yours. You could squeeze your own knee and it would respond, but not be yours. Like being trapped in someone else's life. It's horrific and emptying and makes you feel purposeless and completely lost and how can you do anything for yourself if you're not there anymore. Or for others if you don't believe you are you to have something to offer. Later I'd forget, and try somehow to be a good loyal friend to him. Because you can be a friend without knowing who you are. Or at least its something trainable.

Today when I looked up I suddenly realized it was me. Here I am!

It was that look. I'm in a towel, feet up on the desk with the windows wide open, listening to Kansas wailing. I suddenly felt self-aware and self-conscious. Have the other hotel guests been hearing me on repeat? Can they hear my thoughts? Suddenly my own thoughts became loud and clear and transported like a gas to fill the air of the whole room and out the window into the 19th-century sandstone brick courtyard.

I feel completely and utterly ok in a way I haven't in a long long time. Maybe since the day I got my first tattoo 2,2 years ago in Tel Aviv, when I recognized my left forearm last (not sure about my face), and recognized my spirit, looking over the sea, having a drink at the beach instead of working, the day after a big meeting. So I took that forearm and got a "yes" tattooed right into it, as a way of affirming that there I was, and I recognized it.

Today I recognized my whole self again. I'm a bit fat, a wailer of a human, a tyrant flycatcher, a wild bluegrass mountain singer, a brazilian shoreside crooner. I look like a 6 year old german american with maybe some percentage of latin american. I feel masculine, globby, gorgeous and delicate. With great potential for being strong and underinvested natural grace. I have great freckles and destroyed toenails. My back is weak so I perch my legs up at every opportunity. I can fly in my sleep and I can do things without thinking. I can be very nice and I can be very mean. I run away in order to be found.

I find myself

I am in a chalet in southern France along the alps. There are chairs under each window that sit between wallpapered stars. On the chairs there is a boy with a skirt, a javelin, rowing un a river through a meadow. There is a you g girl with a parasol and they appear to be having a romantic natural jaunt. My bed is made for 3 people l, California king, but French. Above it us q pain in of crocuses and hyacinths, pansies and bluebells on kitchen shelves with some paint. I am a bit drunk since I just left the spa bath and decided to open some geuze to enjoy while the bubbles were activated. I am bloated because I had a large Michelin star dinner last night of ten courses after a few glasses of house viognier. I am worried I might bleed through my fine Terry cloth bathrobe. I wonder if i can purchase it. The art dictates tools and plans for chateaus from centuries past. There is a shelf with some Chinese urns and some incense. Several villas from the French Alps are featured. The bathtub does not have a clawed foot; it is a taloned foot of a dragon it appears, with a ferocious face above it. It is made of marble.

I want retrieving my geuze to get dressed for breakfast at 10:30. It is marriage parfait, a toasted hay color, 2012 four year vintage with as much wild fermentation as one could dream of from brouwerij boon. From outside it appears the tables have been set in the garden. I will continue to read about how to navigate the Pacific through a topography of water motions while at the pool admiring the chalet.  Then go to Geneva to meet my friends Edmundo and Giovanni, the gays. The gays let me be fabulous without feeling inferior themselves. On my holiday by myself, I can find my own way to chalets with zero network and minimal human interaction. "can you being me another glass of house white in ten minutes since I'll be finished with this first one by then? Oh thank you so much!" without anyone, anyone calling me selfish.

no one has to know I feel less alone out here than Ive felt in months, dining by myself in the alpine woods listening to the fountain in the courtyard. I have room to taste every goopy bite of cheese. It's just me, my dreams exploding, and my best girlfriends around the world far far away, yet present in spirit.

The first London post, 1.5 years later

Little and fat. That's how I feel. My face is little, my arms are fat. I am beautiful and pathetic. Youthful yet lost in a past decade. Somehow ten years flew by and I didn't notice how to refresh myself. I'd have to start from scratch again, but scratch scratch. Like, with no things. No . Things. Id like to do this. In fact I think I'd express even more of what I've collected over the years if I could do so. If I could go to a new house, analyze the moisture in the walls and the decay in the corners. Tell myself, yes, for this I need a textured couch, mid mustard with Curt stone furniture and ancient-looking books with stains on them. Forget the pillar candles.
I sort of did this last year, but then I lost myself in plainness along the way. I arrived as eccentric as a billionaire. I felt safe feeling perfectly unsafe in most scenarios. an exotic isolation and innocence. A tropical person pretending to understand winter in fake furs and a concealed Miami tan. Too temporary to mind not connecting. Too special to relate anyway. With a precious intimate circle of support and access.

The idea of seeming familiar to London terrifies me. Because London is nothing. It's the most privileged empty city that exists. Like a friend you never knew which makes you sad, it consistently never reminds me of itself. maybe I should know more people here.

The Garden is a clean place and a new place

I no longer believe in fate. What felt perfect has fallen in pieces. Serendipity is useful for a moment, and then we are alone and existential again - disconnected. But then, some morning you wake up, and all those fallen pieces have created an incredible mosaic without you even knowing. you walk out, and all that you thought was gone is suddenly arranged before you.

Here we are in the garden.

#makeitcount
#nothingthatisrealcanbelost
#aliceinwonderland

Apathy & Passion

"I don't care," said Pierre, a favorite cartoon of mine growing up. Over the years it's been a struggle to balance apathy and passion appropriately

"Subtlety #1: Not giving a damn does not mean being indifferent; it means being comfortable with being different."

I liked this--

"Subtlety #2: To not give a **** about adversity, you must first give a **** about something more important than adversity."

So simple, so useful. Never heard it put that way.

There's nothing more infuriating than "why do you care so much?", partly because passion can come with a lot of shame, and it's so colorful and productive; why should it be repressed? The solution is not to stop caring, but simply to refocus or transcend.

I'm always looking for ways to care less and this mantra nails it. How to balance apathy with passion in a way that doesn't make you a total asshole.

Leonardo DiCaprio inner voice

This is the most classy mutherfucking place I have ever seen.

I guess while I was romping around riviera maya the past few years it was missing a certain polish.

But how am I going to meet the badasses and not just in passing in the lobbies of bars?

Finally, scar swagga.

Hot damn applesauce never tasted so good.

Feeling very broken today. May not leave this bed much. Bad bloating, nausea, & pain everywhere but especially in abdomen and back. Gas trapped in body parts painful.

Road through Dixie

Epic road trip through North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia & Florida with Mama & about 10 cases of craft beer for the sisters and cousins starts tomorrow.

Somehow we've become a big Southern family. Lookin through the skylight, wishing on stars.

Everything is going right, I made it to the other side of the storm, and I am different. Latin America is behind me, Dixie before me. The UK is not yet in view. Will be taking Italian and streaming my Stanford negotiation class between scratchy old gospel & mountain music on the radio... music and food is it, music, mountains & the moon.

If it feels like home, then follow its path.

Héroes

I found four new heroes today. If every day can be like this I can find happiness.

- a guy turning computers into brains
- a biz dev guy for a red-hot private chef startup
- a local handbag designer with plans to launch in berlin
- an old friend challenging a billionaire to match gift donations

Geez there is so much to do left in life.

6 Dec

Guanajuato

You have done it again with your magic, Guanajuato!

30 Nov

Cartagena

The city that ignites your mojo like none other.

27 Nov

On Fire

My heart is bursting and my skin is shimmering with belief and excitement for everything to come.

My heart is bursting, my breath heavy, my arms shivering with belief. love is a drug and it comes in the form of latín music towards the world.

27 Nov

The galactic fall, the new land, and another small monster reported quickly

I seem to routinely get swept off my feet, dropped back down to earth at varying proportions.

This time I was dropped from unimaginable heights, such that I could hardly see the earth. I could only see the sky, the heavens, and a glimmer of what life was below. This time when I dropped, I had to learn how to skydive; I had to build a wingsuit mid air, and flap my way down like some sort of reptile in the air.

This time I was dropped so high up that I had to hold my breath for quite a while before I had enough oxygen to be able to sigh.

This time, I was dropped from so high up that it seemed unimaginable to return to back down to earth.

This time, I was dropped from so up high, I'm up there with the moon and we're having conversations about which way should I go, which pull was really stronger, earth or moon.

But this time, when I was swept off my feet, this time I wasn't even on the ground. I was flying. This means that I was mid air when I was swept off of my feet.

It was dizzying. It was more disorienting than ever because I was mid-turn, mid-flip, mid-twist and glorious when I was swept off my feet, mid-air while flying. I was hunted like a bird. You could even say it was a mid-air hijack. I thought I was getting the ride of my life. It turns out I could have been swept up by a giant storm in the middle of a cloud. Or a gun.

I thought of this love as a giant winged bird that would take me to new places, and places where I could be happier than ever before. But this love with a crow, ready to pick me up in one place and drop me in another. This love was a gun, it hit my wing.

But I caught myself mid-air. In fact, the entire damn process happened in the air. I didn't get a chance to fall to the ground or come from the ground. The ground was a distant memory. I had been flying overseas. This is why this love was so confusing.

But guess what, Here I am, I have fallen into the sea. I have swum back to shore. i am back on the ground. I have some scratches, some twisted limbs, and new wrinkles, some bloats, some chills. I've got new lungs, red eyes, and I've landed in a new place. I don't even know what land I'm in.

But good lord, as sister Mary said, I know when there is a promise of the of a storm, if you want change in your life, walk into it. If you get to the other side, you will be different. But if you want change in your life, and you are avoiding the trouble, you can forget it. So, wade on in the water, cuz lord, it's really going to be troubled water.

I got to the other side. I found the ground.

And then after all that, I met somebody. It was inspiring. It really wasn't much, really. Truly, somehow, I felt free. I felt like I had reached this new ground, and my scratches were okay. And then, POP! There I am, swept up. Not too high this time, there go my feet, hanging again. And PFUF! Back on the ground.

Jesus christ. I got to the other side, I said, "I hope I'm different now! That was supposed to be my reward!". But all these damn monsters. I wish they could just walk with me instead of having to pick me up, god dammit. I can fly; I don't need a monster to catch air. Why can't a monster just walk with me? Why I gotta be swept off my feet? Why I gotta fall? God dammit. My bones heal, my skin heals, but it's lonely out here.

Mariachi, please

"No, i don't like this song"

I said

As i started to cry.

Mariachi, please, sing me a song
Which cures corazón roto

I said, grasping a bright green $200 peso bill.

"Una canción bien romántica! Vamos! Una canción romántica!"

"When I met you, the sun opened up...."

I began to cry, my whole body became sick like it had been.

"No me gustó"

"It's beautiful to feel."

"Yes, human."

"Yes. Que bonito. sentir"

"Que bonito, sentir"

"Que lindo, sentir"

Metaphors for being displaced (remind myself to always express these while they last)

I feel a bit like

an astronaut with nothing strong to grab onto.

I have propelled myself into the unknown like a ballistic quidditch ball.

A manic deer prancing through the woods and stopping to realize they're not in Kansas anymore

A satelite on the wrong planet

I could make an art exhibition on all the visual metaphors that come to mind!

One reason im leaving a vacation life to go work harder in london is to save this sweetness for someone

" Perhaps it is time for me to get serious
Just for a little while
Since I want to get into the big leagues and
We all know I'll return to the sea again soon... waking up slowly, drinking some juice, listening and going back under the covers.

I have lived well: I have lived so damn well I want to share it with someone. I want to

These are all secrets worth returning to. So I will, in a different place. A league later. And hopefully, with somebody taking me by the hand. "

The day i felt must have been fateful, because there was no turning back

I swear I haven't gone batty, its just been a wacky summer and the moon has been calling the shots. Just nuts as far as I'm concerned

Guys, I feel like I'm going batty. I appear to be aligned with the moon. The prophecies around the total lunar eclipses this year have been insanely on key with my life transformational events.

Haiku after about fifteen Tishrei, the day after the giant lunar eclipse, and after accepting a new job in London and making the gigantic life transition official

New things have started
I am positive, grounded.
My mind is empty

The morning of my 29th birthday I woke myself up sleeptalking

"The people who survive will have something to teach me."

It was an audible whisper, creepy but confident.

Why

Creativity so you can be prepared to act quickly in the face of an unexpected barrier, be agile, adaptive and thrive.

Artisans

Here are the ways artisans are using today’s technologies to create real things. From digital sculpture software to motion-based sound generation to a reimagining of digital cartography, invention in the age of technology is taking many forms.

Art or tech

In art or in tech.. Its like I can be a permanent teenager, but without all the insecurities. Curious, vibrant world.

This is how we'll ever really get to SEE anything.

Caribou on repeat and contemplating how grateful I am that I don't work in rule enforcement

On the contrary. Thank god for disruptive fields. How else would we ever be meaningful in history?

#childofthenineties
#feelingrogue

Median

My driver turns towards the right at a fork, and then hesitates - as if he's trying to hold onto the other turn. A moment of nostalgia for what that path could have been. It scrapes us dangerously close to the giant orange barrels in the median

Shook

There was an earthquake this morning that shook the pale purple room.

Lessons I learned about storytelling

Stop isolation and create community through story

When something ends something else begins

Turn your failures into obstacles just waiting to be heroically overcome
If the audience senses that the hero isn't risking much in going after her goal, they'll get bored. What is the consequence if it doesn't happen?

Stakes - just getting praise?

Lessons from wonderland

Lessons from Wonderland

The more clarity i get about life and this wild world over time
The more I realize soberly that I live in wonderland, with scale distorted, frustrating tunnels, terrible creatures and incredible luck in fantastical games.
And then there is the physical wonderland: huge, foreboding, amazing, scintillating. It teems with song and life and struggle and personality and a million nonsensical stories that create our customs.
We are beings, trapped in another part of the forest or jungle or ocean, desperate to find each other, conflicted with our realities, unsatisfied in pursuit of something, but exhilarated at the hilarity of those we get so lucky to intersect.
Life is colorful, the world teems: lessons are everywhere; patience a virtue but only mobility and curiosity are rewarded.
Deceit and grotesque form can be won over with simpathy and humor.
Structures that become unsupportable - which you grow out of, or become too tiny to reach - are constant; we constantly shift in scale and size and importance; this is the form the soul takes.
We don't know if our dreams form our reality, or if from reality we form dreams; our relationships, achievements, and even our senses are dependent on this co-existence.

Return to Immature Crush for a moment

I am like an energy bomb
I am like a teenage bomb
I am feeling many things at once today.
Your words are very meaningful because
Even though I think they're empty capricious and angst driven
A free spirit who is like an energy bomb is a lot of rock and roll
Its very comforting to have a rock and roll guy not very far away

Been crying a lot today, mostly because of having ten thousand feelings at once. Though life is pretty gentle and I want to give it a hug, I feel like a husky who needs a purpose

Out of place

The worst feeling in the world is that you should be doing something else. The best feeling in the world is that you are exactly, exactly where you should be.

i am a lady, all of a sudden

i am a lady. i am a dama. i tug at my white fleece blanket, they gave me, because the air conditioning was too cold.

the windows are steamy, in the most exciting of ways - like a car after you make out with someone on a cold night, or the kitchen at christmas. the palm trees' movement in the caribbean wind is irresistible, of course.

my scarf is draped around my knees popping out of my pencil skirt under the table. I twirl my $250 peso pinot noir and realize, this color, this could only be pinot noir, i learned this a few years ago now, the color of a rich california coast pinot. central valley, for sure.

i always wish there were gates in this wall letting the sea breathe. these hotels are true fortresses, the water could go 20' up against the windows and we might see some frantic fish in the event of a hurricane watching us back in this human aquarium of a restaurant, the perfect tropical foliage now sea flowers, and the palms mustily flooded to their tips with crystalline blue water.

Sometimes I have nightmares about witnessing tsunamis. I am often on a hill, often in a spectacular hotel, often poorly made; often with someone I love, who I know is fleeting and will not last long in my heart because

"Es una marca dinamarca, en el estilo británico, de porto portugués, EN méxico, importado no sé donde. jaja!" I joked to my well-trained waiter. Nah, I didn't need to try the porto. The bottle was half empty. Of course it wasn't corked. The temperature was perfect. It was light, like a Pimm's. In color and in intensity. A springtime port.

My friends from tsunami dreams, it's not that they don't last, it's that dreams don't before you forget them. Strangely, my tsunami dreams are fantastic. Within them they are so colossal it becomes vivid, and I know I am dreaming, similar to when I know I am happy: everything becomes sublimely visible and the forces of nature are upon me.

If I go a month without traveling to Cancun, my first night in Cancun, I take off my clothes, get in bed, open the doors as wide as they go, turn the A/C to 80 degrees and pray for the warm sea air to fill the room and warm me and unravel my lungs into a summery night I missed so much in California and then Mexico City. The summer night feeling. Damp covers. But with this spiritually colossal force of the ocean, visible many stories down, brilliant and fluorescent almost even at night, the somehow wild, most majestic caribbean sea. The caribbean sea is so tame that you open to it wholly. It's not a leap of faith to go walking, but for jellyfish. It's not you versus the sea, it's you in the sea. It's you, amazed at this insanely beautiful sea. But man, does this place speak to you at night, not unlike a full moon, exclusively through magnetism and iridescent majesty. Except that I don't believe in feudalism, or whatever monarchies are supposed to have represented, and I honestly can't imagine goddesses

The affogato with crema and canela and avellanas has arrived. Homemade gelato and biscotti. Holy crap.

Yemanja is the goddess of the sea, from Afro-Brazilian myth. The sea is the vehicle to imagining home, identity, freedom, according to one Afro-Brazilian writer and poet. This affogato is insanely delicious.

A while back, I was sitting up straight, grateful for the lobster, stroking the gold satin ribbon draped across the table. Thinking about being 80 and a little excited about it, thinking about some equivalent of the Grand Hotel Budapest for me, here in the caribbean to - - ok, i'm totally uncomfortable talking about my own death, but one morning after one of those first nights here in cancun, when the magnetism wildly takes me over and i peer over at dawn into the ocean and put as much of my spirit into it as it is releasing onto me, I might have even said out loud the voice in my head was so confident "i am going to die here". And that was the most deeply peaceful fulfilled feeling. I will be fulfilled one day, so deeply and peacefully. Something I am few places, but in this fortressed spot, nature still overwhelms in an eternal way. Really. i'm still creeped out at myself for having admitted this last bit.

So, I am 28. I'm reading about engineering roles in Paris, my interview is at 7:30am. I don't know if I want this more or Malaysia. I got promoted at Google, and as long as I go real big, I can imagine staying with them, this technological freedom. I can see into the future. My job isn't to inspire. It's dangerous to focus, some say. This isn't new.

It's a good lesson, anyway. Who not to focus on, you know? And remember if I'm not useful for someone, I could be wildly useful for someone else wildly useful for me. This is the kind of career faith and relationship faith I have at 28.

The pinot noir has worn off, and I miss the humidity. I'm going upstairs.

***addendum: the waiter gave me a single red rose with my bill. "Ahh, uao, que es esto?" "es una detalle ...." "do you give it to all the women who dine alone here?" I wanted to sound as least rude as possible. For curiosity, how many of these roses do you give a night? "between treinta y ...." Surely, many women may come for business here. "Yes, we give it to the nice pretty girls". He was giving me a compliment, not calling me a woman. I stopped to smell the rose, before I put the card in. "Well, I'm just writing here." I said. Somehow it all came out softer in Spanish, but who knows how I came off. Romance lives. A sideways reminder that I live in another culture, that I am a woman and need to be reminded that being alone is not ok, pitiful, or worthy of cherish, i'm really not sure, but this glassware sure is nice, i ALWAYS accept roses, and the waiter really made me smile due to his over-the-top service, and I truly don't think he was flirting.

Pan-Glazing at 28 on a Wednesday

Happily single, no clue where I'm gonna live next. Not even what continent. Narrowed it down to five. I'm that glowing warm piece of glass, flexible and determined, unsure if I'm heating or cooling while spinning between a pair of pincers and turning fluorescent.

Being this single is giving me a window into a gorgeous time far ahead when I'll get to put amazing music on amazing speakers one day in a kitchen buzzing with cicadas, and bake leeks and roast peppers for someone I love, brass music in the heavy air like a nostalgic scene in an old movie, the basis of what made what comes next worth everything.

Being this independent is allowing me to open that window into a deeper cut future, when somewhere far away, something won't be fleeting. Fresh commitment will absorb and enable my whole self. Someday, something won't be fleeting. Beautiful but evanescent shadows and reflections are all I see of my colorful life today; flirting with standards and fantasies of a mint, anchored future life - flickering imaginatively like a mirage, or the smile of someone you like as you go to sleep. Meteoric.

And so I'm focused on forming a deep flavorful character in the meantime like caramelizing a pan, careful not to let anything burn, knowing it'll be the base of something vibrant yet abiding, to feed a familia later. And the cathartic pan-cleansing moment will come - when it hits me, this is the great moment, i will know it by smelling a deep roasted color - when I must toss the white wine in the pot-- to unleash a great sizzle and aroma, to cut the caramel, de-glaze the pan, lift and expand the flavor into anything that falls in next.

My thumb tastes like

My thumb tastes like
Bitter chalk
Like MDMA
Crushed sleeping pill on my bicuspid
Jamaican sauce from Bahia
So hot it stung like tiny glass pieces when I broke the bottle "pop"
As it fell from the fridge
And the glass bottle folded onto the floor
And I scooped it up with my hands from the tile
That was the spicy one, it had a crocheted top, it made the man swear
And couldn't believe I didn't cry
It was anise and smoked habanero and garlic, black skin in the sunshine, cool blue bay breeze and abandoned sky scrapers, cool cononuts below and yellow bobó. Drums.
My finger tastes like stinging eyes from late night screen thoughts
Ripped at the cuticle, dry, raw
Bitter chalk, like powdered blue gloves
Hot finger
Melatonin drops alcohol
The recorder of my future ambitions
Cool, clean blue cotton sheets.

Freedom

OK, gonna make it work. Gonna put things into action. This is the peak "single" phase of my life, where selfish whims are allowed or even constructive. I can't decide if this is totally boring or totally awesome. I just wish I had a million dollars and fourty vacation days and twenty career role models. Maybe in the meantime its ok to live on the edge- champagne, fresh fruits- spending all my cash on seeing mexico. It's either that or education, and if I go crazy without fear of commitment I can combine the two.

Early morning runs, aggressive new specializations in self-researched sectors. Is this the late twenties single dream? And when do I get to move home and play bball and lax again in some gorgeous yard?? Is this an absurd concept because it's gonna be Europe, or Africa, or California for Christmas? I'm like the liberal teacher who wears sparklers in her hair on the fourth of July. Or Mrs. Frizzle, who manages to bring a bus through blood veins, learns a thing or two about the heart, and in a twist of events wakes up back in a science classroom. I'm jealous of Mexicans all the time because they're showing me a new standard of living. Yet nothing would be more satisfying than somebody bringing me a pair of red basketball kicks, a jersey, an idea for a relevant community project, and the guts to be an entrepreneur, find some partners, flat out start pitching people stuff.

Meanwhile I keep seeking love or success handed to me as if enthusiasm is just rewarded like that. Nah, all you get is insomnia and a little bit of creative writing, OK and a Lotta coastline and tequila and lessons on how to be more socially intelligent (sometimes at odds with being rogue). So this is where freedom comes in. Freedom isn't about rights, it's about energy. It's a great ball of initiative, volition, tumbling like a bicycle down a newly paved road, bopping over fallen branches and old potholes cuz you have faith in that road. That's freedom. Being quick on your toes, awake little riding feet, not minding the strain in your neck. You grow up with it, its like riding a fucking bike. And you're alone.

Someone told me once one of the best things in the world was a bike gang. Up there with all your friends on a bike, not really caring where you are going (some vague destination), because you all have that energy . but what's sad about that nostalgic feeling? People drop off and if you wanna stay riding around there you are, just you and your bike and all the infrastructure to navigate. Weather. You, infrastructure, and the weather. Freedom sometimes feels like a Lotta work.

This is where I hide in my bed and write from 4-6am, inspired, then act grouchy the next day after my lunch coma. Or where I go get juices and flowers instead of pursuing community leaders, poets & politicians. I make friends with chefs and photographers because they make relaxing so damn enjoyable. Damnit, productivity feels cold and forced in the tropics. But there are a lot of opportunities everywhere around me to get my hands dirty. I gotta get better at asking questions and setting up small missions for myself. This is permanent study abroad. Gotta learn, right? Or can all this be through osmosis, drift? What else can I get away with, in peak singledom? What am I working towards anyway?

One day, I look forward to being spiritual again

A productive insanity
Where I can feel the rain drop on each nerve under each hair in my arm
Where the metallic smell of earth has history which can pass over me and allow me to see great meaning

When I turn to look at someone in the face
And know its real
Know this all
It's all real.

Because i am either lost, or found in it

Lessons from Wonderland

The more clarity i get about life and this wild world over time

The more I realize soberly that I live in wonderland, with scale distorted, frustrating tunnels, terrible creatures and incredible luck in fantastical games.

And then there is the physical wonderland: huge, foreboding, amazing, scintillating. It teems with song and life and struggle and personality and a million nonsensical stories that create our customs.

We are beings, trapped in another part of the forest or jungle or ocean, desperate to find each other, conflicted with our realities, unsatisfied in pursuit of something, but exhilarated at the hilarity of those we get so lucky to intersect.

Life is colorful, the world teems: lessons are everywhere; patience a virtue but only mobility and curiosity are rewarded.
Deceit and grotesque form can be won over with simpathy and humor.

Structures that become unsupportable - which you grow out of, or become too tiny to reach - are constant; we constantly shift in scale and size and importance; this is the form the soul takes.

We don't know if our dreams form our reality, or if from reality we form dreams; our relationships, achievements, and even our senses are dependent on this co-existence.

Dreamers

--Ale, tomorrow:
(From a small counter in Paris)
"You must try this musk. It is really special. It is from Lichtenstein"

-- Peter, today:
"Greetings from Lichtenstein. Another one off my list."
"Lichtenstein was on your list?"
"Everything is on my list"
--
"What makes that musk special?"
"You know what? Have you seen this film, before sunset?"
---
Who else is in Singapore, in New Orleans, in Dubai, Ukraine, in London, In Marin and in Nicaragua and in Sydney, Tomsk, Serbia, Turkey, and missed out on Iceland.
Who is Icelandic Malaysian but lives in Mexico; Armenian, Persian, Cuban and Chilean; who is a Haitian hero from Miami or a Venezuelan-raised Austrian? A French in Argentina or a Portuguese in Panama? A Brazilian in Fiji; a Mauritian in Las Vegas; an Ethiopian in New York. A Colombian or Laotian from Silicon Valley, a Japanese from Monterrey, a Peruvian in Galicia who became a doctor in Chicago.

Dreamers. People who put "life is short" as their WiFi password, as a reminder to connect, not disconnect.

These are my best friends, the people I love, who move and inspire and define me, who give me life, who dream as one earth and who would travel eons to taste life, who do it to eat and breathe, who don't know what else. I am grateful. This is me too. My dad, I say, he's Argentine from New England, living in Latvia and working in Burkina Faso. It makes sense somehow in this world of where. My grandfather told me in a beautiful card I had taped up to our kitchen counter sill, under the knives, for years: "Everywhere you go, there you are."

It was one of the most beautiful and comforting things anyone had ever told me. I think it gave me a lot of courage to go, go figure it out.

Ale will sell that musk one day from Paris. I'll buy her dream, back of a vespa, scarf trailing, air crisp and sun-filled.

In the meantime, I am on her foldout bed in sao paulo, watching her suitcases through my jetlag; saboreando my poetic insomnia, rose and brigadeiras en boca. I saught my dreamer friends for reassurance tonight, the women that just are that without thinking, who have images of twenty years and a pool and a breeze and a colonial city, a project, a moving vehicle, a collaboration, a new world order.

And this will happen, if we are lucky to remember us. Because this we are.

The Bubble

We live these exciting, sensational lives, but we are isolated and trapped in as if by a thick digital silicon bubble, just waiting for people to come along and burst it.

But so often, people just approach us with their own bubble, and we rub digital bubbles together, maybe we can feel a change of pressure; maybe a bit crowded, even - and it never bursts at all-- we never really get to breathe the same air, or warm each other up, or hear each others' unfiltered voices. and then away they go, like a digital trail, in a database, without any physical meaning.

We can burst our own bubbles, but then we will be left open-hearted and alone to the muck of a physical environment humans no longer share, curious if the repair is worth it, again and again.

2013 year in review

Exciting as all hell. Raw, inspired, growth. You have stunned me, 2013. You have made me feel like a 12 year old, freshly picked off some vine.

The world is grand and exposed. Tile in old colonial quarters... sour, tropical drinks. Hunger and angst and a shuffling of dreamscapes and the ocean on my feet! Biking through the smog and returning with the cinematic rhythm of falling in love with life, confused, just like an adolescent again.

Some women are islands

I am, indeed, an island.

Like that fifth grade project create-a-country where you papier-machêd a dream paradise land with palm trees and dolphins and strawberries into the shape of a moon. Something isolated, something forced, something repressed, but dreamy. Far away, lonely as hell, heavenly and void of civilizations. Something private and deeply exposed beneath the sun and dry sand.

When I run out of sleep, when I run out of thirst, my head becomes a glass ball full of swirling smoke. Swirling, swirling, swirling.

No man is an Island, Fer said, dammit Alice, No man is an Island

But I am, indeed, an island. Also worth noting, I am not a man. I have found out a way to fortify myself with a moat the size of an ocean, and while my voice carries far and eerily across the sea, most voices that get released are tired and shortsighted, focused on surviving the time of day and surviving the weather.

Yes, I have visitors by motorboat, but I hide in my jungle. I feel like that terrifying island from life of pi that glows at night and that which is organic becomes carniverous. Hidden, mystical, barbarious, scared of myself.

Other times its beautiful, peaceful, and quiet, colorful but distant. Could be swallowed up by the sea, dying for company.

Mama hands and her virtual universe

I remember my mother sitting in front of a computer in the mid-90s, writing down encrypted Norse patterns from a video game, to decode the most advanced puzzles to get to the next level in the virtual universe, Raven. If she was intent on her task, we hardly noticed. Her hands did it for her, scribbling and scratching like a comfort doodle while talking on the telephone, like a life drawing in the park. Nonchalant decoder.

It was like her crossword puzzles on a clipboard before she went to bed. Very serious braintainment puzzle accomplishment achieved in her most intimate moments. Pijamas, with cat, soft warm relaxed skin in bed. Advanced sudokus, all filled in, beside her in bed as she slept.

I don't even remember playing Raven because it was too difficult, too obtuse, too confusing and multilayered. I feel like one day I asked my mom what happened to that game and she probably answered, half paying attention, oh I solved it, it was all right.

It was a bit like those afternoons on sunny weekends where suddenly mom wouldn't answer the phone and then we of course asked "where the heck have you been?" And shed just answer, "the GARDEN" with a giant breath and excitement in her eyes and active veins in her forearms. I have absolutely no clue what she did back there, or why. Weeding, I guess. Sometimes she said she moved some things around. All I know is nothing ever died unless it was supposed to, and her hands did all the work. Sometimes she would come back with a snapping sprout, or a sliced up hand, or a black, bruised index fingernail, or worse, a worm. These things were worth sharing.

And then there were dozens of rolls of cloth and drawers of needles and thimbles and old bullets from wars and magnifying glasses. All were used for making quilts. I don't ever remember any quilt she made, but I remember the sound if the machine. Hours of silence, calmness, and the tvktvktvktvkk. Tvktvktvktvkk. Her hands did it for her.

Overeager

Shame, mania, the occasional reminder that I can "come off the wrong way"

"Aggressive", "control freak", "surprising and uncomfortable".

I don't mean to be abusive. In fact, I really mean to be constructive. Maybe I've been taught to love by beating down and embracing, as a rebellion and a loneliness if sorts, of being too smart and too solitary too often.

And when I feel valued, I go balls to the wall and I don't see any reason to inhibit myself if I'm a positive whirling force of eager energy and hope and spirited volition.

"I want to be pushed too", I've told others, but people who have disappointed me push back with biting, personal words I am unfairly loyal to. "You just want control," they may say; "You need to chill out." Or worse yet "You need to be patient."

"You need to be patient" really means "You can't grow here," and "You need to calm down," really means "I can't keep up with you and I am insecure so I will make it your problem rather than find strengths with you and help you channel the positive force that is your energy." Yet, the reality is, sometimes its not my world I've walked into. Maybe for them, they really do need me to be patient. and I reject those needs. I'm like a smart, destructive, beautiful Samoyed. You abandon me, you bore me, and I will chew through that which you value. I don't mean to. I just get hurt and upset at the unstimulating world sometimes. I can't believe I just called myself a dog.

I've been trained, and I remind myself when I am on my best behavior that the pull rather than push method is a universe of missed opportunities but far more qualified wins. Ugh, the traps of being a lady. And the reality is, wow, its my duty to find strengths and channel force too. I know I shouldn't waste my time with the inerts and the inerters. But an inertive force can be very powerful and requires rebirth. I can't allow myself to become a Samoyed. Or if I am, I have to choose to be a damn loving one. Waking up helps, though it may keep me from sleeping.

On Saturday, I didn't get out of bed all day. "Now is not the time to visit. Please respect our decision." The words of sharp, unexpected rejection crushed me, not just because they meant I would not get to see friends or family for more weeks. But it's almost thanksgiving. That wasn't all of it. I didn't even let Gemma or Hector in when they knew I was upset and knocked on my door. I was in bed, unshowered, staring at a white screen, makeup halfway smeared across my pillow.

They crushed me because they reminded me that my eagerness must, as a curse, be repeatedly punished. Once I earn familiarity, it is far less punished. Maybe it's because I can be deeply inspiring, if condescending. Maybe it's because I am genuine, if clumsy. Maybe I brighten the room with my quirks and my hope for a stallion ethic. Maybe they see me deflate, human, alone, defeated. I try not to be Don Quixote but I'd rather stay young and hungry. I suppose I am learning to hide desperation and ego. In expectation of disappointment, and in lack of social validation since i am overwhelming enough to begin with I rarely get feedback, this is the most challenging thing ever.

Regardless, a generator makes loud noise outside my balcony. I think it's coming from the nightmare kitten truck from which sparks flew behind a curtain later that Saturday when I was stumbling across the street in heels, eager to meet a complete stranger who had come a long way to find me. The truck is horrifying, it is literally covered with dripping kittens. The kind of thing you paint if you feel a lot, suddenly, and then wished you hadn't created it. I asked my new stranger to walk up and see what the sparks were, since the surprise of the emerging sparks had almost caused me to eat it. "Welding I guess," he said. I stood there for a second with my hand on my head.

I am an artist, I must remember, I am like that. I will find strangers, who will come a long way to find me. "You still have those wild eyes" my friend Kelly stated, commenting on a pic I'd posted of me age three, my mother, and my sister whale watching, leaning over a foamy and speedy expedition boat's edge. This fills my heart infinitely. Kelly had told me openly once she thought I was a terrible or at least loatheable person when she had met me - who is this hot girl saying what she wants and challenging people. Until she learned I was like that - I really didn't even realize I came off that way, she said, and she realized I'd be a best friend for life.

Kelly lifts me of my rebellion and of my kicking and screaming. The thing about me is, I feel invisible, but I am heard. She reminds me that it matters. She is loyal. She shows me she needs me. And I'm determined to do the same. It may take some time, but I'm determined to focus more on rewarding and less on heart-sleeving.

Kelly told me once, "It is so beautiful, vulnerability," and she was talking about a moment that became a soulmate husband. "Ha" I said and "hmm" I thought. A man at a wedding and I once dove into the Caribbean at the end of the night and he lay floating weightless in my arms and I think he apologized for being weightless. "Sorry I'm weightless," he said. "Vulnerability is important," I said. We both kind of just floated there, wondering at each other. I thought of all the times anyone had shared with me under the stars.

This is the standard we can afford to have. It's the standard like a lullaby when we fall off, from kicking the monkey bars, when they kick us back. We are left to look up at the sky and squeeze the dirt through our fingers and pull up grass gently and smell it. Remember those moments after doing cartwheels as a kid, when you lay alone and gawked at the size of space, which you only saw once a week? Well, thank goodness we get kicking and kicked, or else we may never get this view :-)

Outing

 what I almost told my family, again, but it was too much to wrote them, and I got embarrassed.

I think most people may not understand bisexuality because gay is "other" but bi is chameleon. Truth is I've always been queer, since I was 0, its a part of my swagger just like frida, ellen page, whatever, but no one can say I won't end up in a traditional marriage and perfectly happy - barefoot mama in a garden - yet taking executive calls and owning it - and still feeling a deep sisterhood with the blow songs and glad to be part of the community as a person! I hope I get to do it all, all that expression and still be me

And a great love. Where pathetic is pathetic but vulnerable wildly strong. Where from across the room , things go soft, and the whole room fills with soft. where a little voice and a little chord dare to be girly, raw, vital and biting. Where the wild things are in hoods and mischievous smirks and bring creative gifts because we notice everything when we are in love with the world.

Chameleon shoulders, chameleon necks. Chameleon fingers, chameleon dance moves. Chameleon wreckage, and chameleon declarations. Silent chameleon decrees of fresh, groovy accomplishments!

Since you need to maintain your patio life, when you live in a tropical country:

  An open heart collects a lot of air particulates

Aka pollution; it may turn gray, with black spots... wipe it off every couple of days, bleach, re-lacquer, unless you like the spots.

An open heart requires: Weather-resistant furniture so the shifting storms that occupy don't cause damage; space heaters when it gets cold, because it will; and good music to create atmosphere....

Fortunately, despite all this, everybody wonderful  a sunny terrace to a stuffy room. There's nothing so refreshing.

Broken arm

Arm feels like it has endured a short life as a chew toy for some fiberglass puppies. Slow, playful, boisterous gnaw. Fractured little armlet is making too much noise on a hot earthy night!

What i almost posted, to advertise my tumblr page

Team FB,

Craving nostalgic cult classics? Check out my tumblr blog with Perez-like narration to yesteryear's rebellious anthems.

Cultcultcult. Today's theme is grunge and there are references to Mr. Mugatu, middle school Metallica shows and, in good uncomfortable 90s fashion, suicide (bad). Kinda like looking at old yearbooks. Its sweet, really.

Who knew I was gonna be an old school MTVer? The girl without a TV. Previous themes include French a-go-go, Riot Grrls, Brazilian Psychadelic music and Sexy 50s geriatric jazz. Tip for diligent readers: search for "Alice goes where" elsewhere on the internet and it'll get real.

Whats not possible with a broken arm

Ladies/Gents- if you are ever one-armed, as in: you broke your arm and can't use it, and are cooking some healthy greens, please note the following track record:

1. Opening bottle of white wine using feet & one-handed screwing: Possible
2. Jar of mustard, using hand and teeth: Impossible. Mustard jar shatters on floor, reveals jar was actually truffle salt. Fuck.
3. Jar of actual mustard, with armpit: Impossible. Ow! Using knees: Impossible. Crotch: possible. Wow the strength.
4. Turmeric. Possible. Thank god. Things almost got weird. That stuff is y-e-l-l-o-w.
5. Cutting carrot to caramelize with onions, by carefully balancing on cutting board, and making clean, confident whaks: omg what was I thinking. Carrots fly into abyss under sofa. Must go scuba diving.
6. Neighbors seeing me one-armed sofa diving for carrot piece: Priceless.

Put on some loud rock music and closed my blinds.

Bathtub honey wine

Zelch! What is this, unfiltered? Nonsense! The cork is plastic... Can't be corked...
Bathtub honey wine?

Bizarre.
Tasted fine in my greens with mustard and vegetable broth. Not buying this again.

Fake applications for being a better human being, because i realized i needed to try

  Future of mexico
Design thinking
Equality of access and technology
Scalability 2.0
Resources in macro
Macrodesign
Development and innovation
Reworking business models for development
Rethinking equality
Rethinking borders via communication
Inter continental communication in business
Bridging gaps in knowledge sharing on diverse teams
Better collaboration cross continent
Spain to mexico
Australia to UK
US to Asia
Designing new interfaces as solutions to equal access
Poverty solutions

MacroDesign : Macroeconomic + Design Innovation
How can we use principles of artificial intelligence to help people's access to water?
How can we create plasticity in emergency response systems?
How can we increase access to banking via mobile for people who live in rural or isolated urban areas?
How can we accelerate distribution networks of credit among impoverished communities, and encourage feedback at a manageable scale?
How can electrical solutions for governments be better visualized to real-time inform international energy policy?

All these ideas I want an academic basis for.

In school, I studied neuroscience and art to go to the very limits of what science and social communication was capable of. Now, I want to do this in business school: arrive at our ultimate human barriers and redesign the limits of human impact of technology. My grandfather, who was a civil engineer who became a quantum physicist in his old age, wrote a chapter called "quarks: turning and other quirky behavior" which explored the moment that math, our language, breaks down, and the rules as we know it begin to disintegrate. This is like an un-detangleable bottleneck in a web app; after reaching a certian scale, sometimes you can re-code and restructure to get the efficiency you need to function but sometimes you need to redraw your entire language and perspective to GROW - thereby coming up with an understanding of the world and how to solve problems at this scale.

This is a principle I have taken from the most thrilling tenets of my 5-year career in emerging internet technologies, and 4-year study of contemporary art & neuroscience: once we reach a certain scale of data that our understanding begins to break down, once we reach our own physical, sensory, or resource-based limits, then we must discard the very basis of our barriers (be it C++ for HTML5: be it neurotransmitters and begin to study growth factors; be it paint, and begin to use computers) in order to reveal an entirely new language to describe the future.

comScore and Nokia propelled me into amazing projects at the forefront of emerging technology (user research and mobility), and Google has treated me well. Once seasoned in disruptive tech for 4 years in Silicon valley, I joined Google on a personal mission to move into the d3veloping world & extend my humanitarian scholarship program (Robertson Scholars), which focused on leadership through a humanitarian spirit, hunger for discomfort, intellectual curiosity, community service, and courage. Like that program, Google gives employees access to tackle huge social or economic problems with scaling simple tools. In college, it may have been a camcorder; at Google, its code and all of the information of the world extracted using it. Examples include Project Loon, Charity Water, Trading Bows and Arrows for Laptops, and more.

In my current team, I'm tasked with two "break barriers" projects this season: 1) Partnering with the federal government to re-market the country of Mexico to the world via the internet (combatting negative stereotypes thru interactive, experiential media promoting investment in Mexico) and  2) Managing the workflow of a team dedicated to the biggest industry for Google in the country - and the biggest legal industry for Mexico after oil - tourism.

Tourism reveals macroeconomic trends unravelling between Mexico and Brazil, Colombia, Spain, the U.S., China. I research huge-scale investments, technology access, crime patterns, profit models, auction dymanics and geography for my multi-market pitches to top global travel companies about their expansion strategy in LatAm. My recommendations are usually based in reworking digital intelligence within their own business models.

My market covers 589,000 humans, but just a fraction of them are participating - and if I can go to business school and develop strategies to build solutions to accelerate access for the 63% of Mexican swithout access to internet - imagine potable water - then I could scale to markets of 2 billion, and help feed democratizing inventions' penetration to those currently without access. Access to internet, education, water, medicine, jobs. I want to discover other tools: so far I understand camcorders and code, but there must be many more.

To do this well, I have to be a serious people person and understand old world conservatism, institutions threatened by tech, and align with audacious leaders and influencers on the ground willing to disrupt in the name of equality. My progress on building a foundation in my first year here has been really interesting in Mexico as it's going through a major adolescent period of economic development.

Outside of work, I am a major ambassador from Silicon Valley to bring agility and change-driven mindset to influential groups in Mexico City. I serve as a coach and core ally for angel investors in the region (500 startups, angelhack), women developers, incubator initiatives in the private (wayra) and public (inda / entrepreneur) sectors,  and I'm even involved in a project creating the official narrative to incentivize national banks to launch mobile banking solutions and broaden their reach. I have been invited to host innovation workshops for X org representing Mexico problem-solving from my house, and I'm being recruited to be country manager and launch Spanish-Latam expansion for an SF ads solutions platform focused on a disruptive media model (RTB). I have spoken at tech conferences to engineers about disruptive problem-solving thru "coding for poverty" and received a standing ovation. I have had an amazing year of plugging into the real challenges and opportunities of the developing world.

I am hoping you will accept me into your program because I want to deeply study technologies of scale - and how to redesign solutions to basic problems in the name of human equality - and ensure that they work.
After two years with your program, I'd like to go to a CEO and sit down and discuss how to get to 10x WHILE helping solve human problems. And walk her through the economics of how that is going to work. Sustainability and design thinking are inherent to this plan, because they encourage the flexibility required for an organization to change values and start thinking in a new human scalable language. The type that allows us to break barriers again - understand the plastic brain and the quarks of humanity - of suffering, and of money. If you accept me into your program, I promise that I will be a catalyst for the class and represent a great legacy for the program moving forward. I think like an artist, work like an engineer, and dream like a politician. I want to learn great management skills to go where we have never gone before!

Why having crushes are dangerous and why it sucks when they are crushed

There are so many spectacular things to do that if you are down, you must wake up. If you are tired, you must get out. Do not keep pushing a little, but rather push a lot, enough to get you to a totally new place, and you will see what you are capable of. What is mind boggling is how many possible lives you could be leading right now. Hundreds of possibilities of love, of disaster, of amazing ambitions succeeded or failed. What if I moved to Boston? Who would enter and take over my world? What if I moved it Singapore? What of I simply started something radically new? How unfamiliar could the past become? How much more could you accomplish? We have no time for the ordinary, if we open our imaginations. If we open our own doors, winds gush in, and accelerate us to a speed we didn't once know possible.

The hard part is that you have to constantly be creating dreams and fantasies - tactile, visual, graspable visions of the future - to make them happen, and move with the audacity to make things real and possible. Sometimes we let it fog up and don't create new visions for a while. This is where things get stale. But with any simple fantasy you can go wildly through a set of patterns to enact a million variations of that movie - that real life enactment. Its so simple. And so permutable.

Me flirting, when someone was kind

Something I never sent.

Aw thanks baby.. it's a milestone at least :) gotta do the math and figure it all out!

Thanks wonderful! :) we'll see

Life reinvents itself... wild and pretty. This summer solstice its like doing this cool conjuring masked dance and all these different friendly beasts are coming out to convive

How to deal with being irresponsibility explosive at a workplace setting

The best we can do is make sure the bad days don't sabotage the good ones, that is, when its good, being really extreme, and when its bad, painting your mind punk rock and channeling your best energy into creative creative productions.

Because the only thing rewarded in good is extreme, the exact same thing punished in bad.

The Prince

The difference between the adventurist, the narccisist jetsetter, the free spirit and the douschebag overachiever is in the heart. Otherwise, they have the same energy to grow, seek growth, drive growth and recycle themselves as they decompose, regenerate, age and die many times throughout their lives. These are the people who capture my attention the most - all 4 types. The adventurist, wildly driven by curiosity, and confident in his own impact - will conquer mine.

Big thighs

You know, as lost as we are, I think we have a lot of it figured out. And thank goodness we got lost, or else home would mean nuthin.

I have these big thighs where if I slump down and let my belly go flat and hard, the thighs welcome everything in the world. Nobody could wreck them. They are strong as sin.

I have these tiny wrists that keep my fingers and tongue delicate, vulnerable, nimble. My lips jut out in a deep under bite when I'm relaxed. There's no messing with my attitude. I am a tough detective, I'm watching you with that lip.

If I slump down just right, and hide just right, my mind will take its own way to get where it needs to go. But for as intense as I am, all this mental space is like a big steam room. Time flies by until I gotta go get air.

I do not need to be a leader

I do not need to be a leader, lord, I can do without the baggage. Make me a trailblazer, but bless me with a fire that makes things grow, not die. Make me a trailblazer mama.

Where if I light things up without expecting it, I may ravage and nourish like a flood - in come the new crops!

"care less" to succeed more

id rather be terribly conflicted and overstimulated
but desperate? its excitement that comes off as vanity and flippancy is it
am i really screaming so loudly with a polite update in passing
do i really gain credibility by doing nothing
is that really how they do it

not easy being a free spirit terrified of losing control, yet definitely one who hears her drum only.
one day ill be an artist, but if i can survive within the corp system just a few more rides around the park
a bit more whiplash, splinters, blasts of misty breeze, sunburn and vomit
i'll consider it a wild success

El Futuro

Javier

yo tambien estoy emocionado de unirme a un equipo ya muy exitoso

nos va a ir muuuy bien, ya verás!

Patricia

the world is unlimited in LATAM, amiga!

you are going to a big playground

Boisterous on a Friday

I feel boisterous like I want to go to an amusement park and get on the stage in the middle of the park and sing karaoke.

It's a special kind of boisterous.

I run at yellow lights!

I run at yellow lights!

If I am a leaky velocity oozing fire hydrant, and someone has put a big board on me to keep me from spraying all over the traffic especially as they wait at those lights, well I'll run all over the street!

I'll find some mold! I'll grow something bold! I am water, dammit! Physics is on my side!

I run at yellow lights!

I am waiting for you, wet and drying on the other side.

The danger with old mod chef's coats

Hands in the pockets, phone in the hand. Let go of the phone, let it hang. Krapp! On the sidewalk again. What's happening?

These pockets have no bottoms. Just like that.

Advice from Kaarima's mother on how to treat chemo symptoms through diet, as I held myself because kaarima was moving

Silium - dehydrated seed
Linasa - grano 2 tsp con agua y tomar todo
Fibra natural

Aloe /sabila 3 aloe, miel, 1/2 kilo, licuadora, 1a taza de tequila o aguardiente. Toma 1a cuchara len mañana en el referí, una en noche. Remedio para cáncer para limpiar el digestivo. Ayuda del alcalinidad de la sangre.

Apio, pina, perejil, toronja. exprimidor.

1 Vaso de agua, Mañana, cebolla rojo, ajo, 3-4 limones. Limpiar el cuerpo. Para cambiar la alkalinidad, porque esta congestionada. "kel escorpionazo". Fuerte pero ayuda en purificar.

eat vegan

La reprimida intoxica ...tiene que aprender en salir las emociones

Yoga es mejor