Wednesday, 05/19/04 - 10:39 pm.
Suddenly I've become a bundle of preoccupation. Not suddenly, really; just lately.
During lunch, my dad was talking about the current social situation of this country. He says things are just like they were in the 70s...the 70s here were very unstable, and lead to a 12- year civil war. He says he's heard some kind of social outbreak is being prepared underground.
You see, in this country, you don't live. You survive. Well, not quite either anymore, because in some places, very far away from the sumptuous mansions uptown, people are already starving. Some days one or twelve children die.
Lately corpses have been appearing among woods. Tortured, mutilated, burnt, you name it. The media and the government and the police say "oh, it's the gangs". But that's what used to happen in the 70s. Tortured corpses found, and the government says "oh, it's the guerrillas", when it was the government, actually. Word has it that these murders are commited by the police itself, and it wouldn't surprise if it were true.
So anyway...I'm worried about all this. I'm worried about the possibility of another civil war. People took over cathedral, people go out and protest on the streets, people are found dead...it's like the 70s, again. I was born in the middle of the war, I don't remember much about it. But my family, having the social conscience they have, have passed on all the details to me. It's horror. I don't think many people, in the US specially, have ever been worried about what's happening in Iraq might happen in their own country (as a matter of fact, the tortures of the iraqi prisioners are the same tortures applied in Central America during the 80s).
That's my first worry. My second one is a much more banal and personal. It's simply my academical assignments, because I have a lot to do. Simple as that.
My third worry is the future. I was never the kind of person who was able to say "five years from now, I'll be doing this". But then I think of my first worry, if it becomes reality (and what if I'm exiled...my dad was in exile in the 80s, because of the logic "journalist = communist"...what in the fucking world...).
And also my own future as a psychologist, whatever happens around me. I don't want a 9 to 5 job, I want to be out, talking to people. Not just any kind of people, the people who need my help. I'm going a little for Martin-Baro's (one of the jesuits of my university, murdered during the civil war, by the government...he was a psychologist) theories here. I won't go any further, but just so you know, I don't want a 9 to 5 job. It'd drive me crazy, as Joseph clearly states (he wouldn't survive a routine, he's THAT special).
Ok, Joseph. The love of my life. I'm a little worried about us. No, it's all fine. I am in love with him, he's in love with me. It's just that he'll start studying psychology, right? I'll be almost two years ahead of him, and I can't help wonder what's going to happen when I finish...I always thought of going abroad after I finished these five years. But I don't want to leave him, ever.
But I'm wondering if he'll even finish his own career. Like I said, he wouldn't survive a routine. He was telling me today that this friend of his said: "you are scared of majoring in anything, because that means having a regular life, being a regular, average person, with a job and a family...living the routine, house-job-house, everyday of your life...you wouldn't kill yourself because of anything but the routine". I know he would.
Ok, I'll leave the somber mood for a while. Actually, it's because of him I forget my somber mood. I wanted to talk about all this with him today, but I saw him and I forgot everything.
We have this complementary knowledge. I've learned from books, and he says he adores my scientific knowledge. He's learned from life, which I consider a little more important. He's a wonderful observer of people, and of everything surrounding him. Yesterday he made me turn my head just to see a brown bird drinking from a little fountain. It's the little things, and he's the first person I can really share them with.
He gave me a stuffed toy today. It's supposed to be a jaguar (because of the spots), but he calls it cat, or just squirrel. He says my gestures are cat-like, the silly fucker, and so he saw somebody playing with this toy, and he traded it for a pack of cigarettes. And gave it to me.
I asked him today what he wanted to do, and he said whatever you want, my love...let's gather an army of squirrels and conquer the world (I LOVE his train of thought). And so the cat, jaguar, whatever it is, it's a squirrel on LSD.
He says we're funny. Because when we're apart we're just a human-like mass of indifference and rage...you know, he looks like Daria's Trent and I look like Daria's Daria...not physically (well, he's a little like Trent), I mean the "get off of me, you filthy motherfucker", "don't you fucking dare to make eye contact with me" attitude. And then when we're together, we're so "aaaaawwwwww", disgustingly affectionate (I know, that's what I said yesterday! Like, OMGZ!!!1). And people stare. Aaaww.
Victor is performing tomorrow morning (11:30), and I'll attend the concert, of course. With Joseph, duh. I'm looking forward to being with him for quite a few hours straight.
I consider worth-mentioning my afternoon with my friends (the foursome, except for Angie...I'm a little worried, that she's walked away from us a little). We are working on this huge-ass assignment, but we always manage to laugh, make fun of everything that happens to us, good and bad, and we walk like we are invincible, like a four-headed monster (yes, The Beatles). I love them. And the weather was great, too.
It's been raining at 5:30 since Joseph and I started to date (on monday, duh). He calls me every night before 9 o'clock. His scent is a slight cigarette smoke, and his taste is cold capuccino. I love everything about him. I ADORE him.
And if you put together everything I've said in this entry, you'll understand why I am feeling pretty odd at the moment.
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