Communism and death plan.
Friday, 02/20/04 - 2:29 pm.

I watch debate and interview shows every night. In case you care. Specially now, that the elections are coming up, on march 21st (it's the first time I'm voting, clap for me!).

- somebody calling the guest of the night: you (the ones from the right wing) scare people by mentioning the word communism in every speech. Can you please explain what communism really is?
- the rightist guest: well....communism is the opposite to capitalism. They have a few elements in common, but basically they are the opposite.

No shit, Marx.

Sometimes I think I'd get a good laugh by writing a journal just about the politics of my country. And believe me, you would, too. But I could never translate all the technical vocabulary (from spanish to english, that is). Hey, as a matter of fact, I'm somewhat knowledgeable, you know? At least I can tell the difference between a real communist system and a left wing ideology, which is something the rightist fellow and his entire party of bourgeois people and the morning newspapers and three channels at the service of the capitalist government who's stealing from and slowly killing the population have disgracefully failed to understand.

On lighter topics, I have found someone to marry, if I make it to 70, single. My friend Head. He said to me last night on IM: be the grandmother to my grandchildren. Step-grandmother, of course. Just grandmother in spirit. But aren't you jealous for not coming up with such cute pick-up line?.

Unfortunately, like I told him, I will not make it to 27. You see, I'm not a poet nor a musician nor an artist. Jimmy, Janis, Kurt and Jim were (so were John and George, but luckily they got to live longer). But the idea of dying at 27 is appealing. And not because I'm disappointed with life or I'm a poor depressed girl who can't see one good goddamn thing about life. Life is ok, you know? I happen to like it most of the times.

I'm hoping I'll die before my 40s. I must have an early death wish or something. I mean, I'd like to live at least 25 years, that's for sure. But when I get to 26, I can pass away. But don't tell anybody, because they might think I am ungrateful or I like to victimize myself or something.

You know, now that I think about this (and by "now" I mean right now, this moment, as I'm typing)...all the times I've wanted to die...I've wanted to die for sure, but not really out of spite, or brokenheartedness, or sadness, or hurt, or even depression, or whatever. Just because. That's not bad, is it? It must be not-bad since I hold nothing against life.

Sometimes I get the feeling I'll get cancer one day, and I say to myself I will not be treated, I'll die naturally, I will not die out of survival in a hospital.

Sometimes, on purpose, I stand in front of the microwave while it's on. Mom is always talking about the micro-waves from the microwaves, and I say "mom, it's just a microwave", and it's really just a microwave. But it has micro-waves. And you can get cancer, rumor has it. I don't know. But I stand in front of it on purpose, just in case. I hope I won't regret it the morning of the day I die.

For the record, I don't think I could kill myself, because I'm not that unhappy. And I could never do that my family. Poor lads.

So anyway, I don't have a life plan (I do know I want to try the "dental experience" of Lennon and Harrison), but I have a death plan. Death is part of life so in the end it's all the same. Cogito ergo sum, I say. My life is solved.

And I blame this entry on communism, even though it's a system that doesn't exist since decades ago because it failed so tremendously that nobody cares to bring it back.

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