PREGUNTAS EN MI MENTE:
PORQUE: Se sigue repitiendo en mi mente. En serio lo digo , que ya mi fe en la raza humana ha totalmente desaparecido , estoy harto de tanta estupidez. Odio abrir los ojos ante la verdad de que la gente con la que alguna vez considere llevarme bien , sean tan ignorantes. Y por ultimo , si tienes una opinion ( de seguro la tienes , ya que son TAN filosoficos y TAN sabios) HABLA! , y al hablar no me refiero murmurar estupideces atras de las espaldas , donde supongo mas seguros se sienten.
CUANDO: quisiera saber cuando yo he pretendido ser algo que no soy, pero OBVIAMENTE esta gente ha de saber porque ellos/as me conocen TAN bien que no puedo protestar en lo absoluto... DEJEN DE ESTERIOTIPAR a la gente por favor , al decir diferente , eso es un estereotipo . Porque alguien no puede ser lo que sea que sea!!!!y tiene que entrar a este circulo vicioso de estereotipos, y porque caen en hablar de otras personas , dios mio , esta ciudad parece haberse puesto extremadamente aburrida para que todas las conversaciones giren en criticismo hacia otras personas . Pero no me preocupo , si en algun Dios o alguna mala energia creen estos seres ( supongo que tienen teorias "super" buenas) creanme que su esfuerzo por llenar sus vidas con criticas negativas hacia como otos viven o no viven su vida , sera justamente saldado.
Me siento descontento con haber plasmado mi ira en una publicacion.... Pero supongo que es lo unico en lo que mi mente merodea en estos dias.
Adios, cuiden sus espaldas, hay gente escondida ahi .
miércoles, 28 de octubre de 2009
domingo, 25 de octubre de 2009
Domingo Melancolico.
Hola, es domingo ... que mas puedo decir?. Desde que soy un pequeno ser , los domingos son siempre iguales, melancolicos, tristes,grises, no lo se .... Creo que quizas mi cuerpo cansado de tanta felicidad y adrenalina que produce durante la semana decide apagarse y drenarme de toda alegria en este dia. No me gustan los Domingos, no hay nada de que reir ,ninguna razon por que hacerlo ... Es simplemente un domingo, un domingo mas. Lleno de peliculas dramaticas , musica lenta y recuerdos opacos. A veces me imagino que pasaria si un domingo todo fuera diferente?, Si alguien podria cambiar esto , alguien que me haga sonreir un domingo?... Solo una muestra de felicidad por tan pequena que fuese , y si soy yo ? el que esta haciendo algo mal? ... Esta decidido, un domingo , lo hare . Saldre a caminar las calles nubladas de las cercanias de donde vivo , buscando a esa persona que podria cambiar mi domingo ... Alguien que nunca he conocido, alguien que probablemente nunca llegase a conocer a menos que yo forge la situacion. Alguien que reestablezca mi fe en la gente, que me haga creer que hay algo mas , mas alla de lo que mi mente inquieta pueda percibir . Tiene que ser alguien que haya vivido , pero REALMENTE vivido. Que nunca haya tomado nada muy en serio, que haya vivido de una manera tan apasionada que no tiene ni un solo arrepentimiento, que nunca haya juzgado a nadie , no hubiera tenido tiempo, estaba viviendo.Y que ahora solo tenga los relatos de su mente para probarlo . A veces me pongo a pensar que haria si esto alguna vez pasara?, si este ser que considero la epitomia de lo que es vivir , se cruzara por mi camino . Creo que no podria hacer otra cosa que llorar, las lagrimas saldrian de mis ojos sin yo poder pararlas .... Ironico verdad? haber esperado tanto tiempo por este individuo que me haga expresar felicidad en tan apenado dia y lo unico que logre hacer es llorar ...Pero ya no importaria , nunca mas habria un domingo melancolico , al ver que este ente que ha verdaderamente vivido en serio existe , todo estaria bien ya que desde ese dia en adelante ya no tendria miedo , no existiria la duda , abrazaria a mi madre por ser la persona que es , le diria a mi hermana lo importante que ha sido en mi vida , me pararia a cantar en frente de todo el mundo , bailaria en todo momento del dia , abrazaria a gente extrana con la fe de alegrarles el dia , sonreiria frente a toda situacion por mala que sea... Pero al terminar esta publicacion me he dado cuenta que todo lo que quiero hacer , lo estoy haciendo. No hay necesidad de encontrar a esta persona a la cual he creado con mi imaginacion ... Quizas esta persona sea yo y por eso nunca la encontrare , solo los anios lo diran . Todavia falta tanto por vivir para mi , muchas cosas por enfrentar , pero nunca se si seras otorgado con el tiempo con el que crees contar , asi que en los 18 anios con los que he sido otorgado , puedo decir que he vivido. Por lo tanto, que diferencia hace un domingo melancolico mas , pero esto lo digo con toda la seguridad que tengo ya que me he dado cuento cuanto amo vivir . Este , fue mi ultimo domingo melancolico.
sábado, 24 de octubre de 2009
Introduccion a mi cabeza.
Bueno, sali a fotografear y regrese y mi dia ha caido en lo monotono, asi que he decidido presentarles la introduccion al libro que estoy escribiendo y que mencione en mi previa publicacion, ja :)
Estoy orgulloso de ella , pero hay un pequeno problemin , esta en ingles... Asi que la compartire pero para todos aquellos amigosfren (paola menoscal te agradezco por introducir este termino a mi lenguaje) que no saben ingles, perdon ?
Dato curioso: Lo escribi en ingles ya que si, mi primer idioma es este y no , no pienso ser gringo , soy guayaquileno eno eno eno eno :) , ja.
dato muy curioso : Las iguanas estan tratando de apoderarse del mundo, lo se. Nunca confies en un animal al que se le caiga la cola , yo siempre digo.
Bueno sin mas demoras, elo aqui , mi introduccion *cambio de idioma a 20 segundos, reducir velocidad*
The sound of the alarm rang deep in my ears, like some kind of large, annoying bell stuck in my head. After a hitting a few snoozes , i gave into the alarm and finally decided to get up. I opened my eyes and sat on my bed... I spent a few minutes gazing around the room, as if the mess i had done the previous weekend would magically dissapear. I finally stood up and walked into the bathroom , wich wasnt any more organized than my bedrrom. splashed my face with a handfull of water and stared at the mirror for a few minutes. looked as usual, my long hair was covering one of my eyes...I took the long piece of hair out of my eye so my view would be more clear, by doing this left both of my eyes uncovered, a sight not very often seen in my case, my eyes were still of the same strange , very clear color, my hair was as messy as always... specially after the long weekend that just passed. I found myself strangely looking at every little detail of my face, even though i had just turned 18 i looked a bit younger...I considered myself to be attractive, but i guess im one of those strange narcisist who only have opinions about themselves in the privacy of their own bathrooms.
Although i thought of myself as being fairly attractive, still thought I was perceibed as a pretty boy by everyone around me , since i had very soft features , maybe too soft for a regular looking boy ... this anoyed me. Perhaps this explained my rebelious hair and my way of dressing , my behaviour might be an excuse to not just be considered as "the pretty boy" but to be thought of as an individual.
After a quick shower, and drying my hair (wich only meant shaking my head from side to side) the bathroom was even more of a tragic sight than before, I walked out and grabbed some random black pants of the floor, a little bit tighter than the jeans i usually wear, a shirt i found hanging from my lamp , and my favorite shoes, some worn out red convers i had learned to love over the years, then I rushed to the kitchen so i could grab something to eat before i left . As i approached the kitchen, I could hear my mother rattling through the refrigerator in one of her hopeless attempts to be a "good mother" and make her only child breakfast... wich lead to yet another failure. Dont get me wrong , i love my mother but she is very tragic when it comes to anthing that involves cooking .... or cleaning for that matter, I think i inhereted that from her .
When i got to the kitchen, I saw her standing there ... still with the clothes she had slept with, watching the small TV placed on the kitchen counter, she strangely kept informed about the teenager music scene of the time...After i gave her her morning hug , I started making my own breakfast since my mother had already given up on her gastronomical abilites. My mother and myself had a very strong bond , mainly created by the fact that my mother had to raise me as a single parent, since she got pregnant at the young age of 16 , wich makes her aproximately 34 at the current moment. She is a very attractive woman, we looked pretty much the same physically , except for our eyes... her eyes were of a strange tone of honey hazel.
But apart from our physical similitudes, she liked watching at every single detail of EVERYTHING that hapened around her , like myself... She particularly enjoyed staring at me, particularly my eyes, she would always tell me how my eyes were exactly the same as my dad's , wich indicated she was still infatuated with the father i never met.
She had always told me stories about my father, how they were both very young and in love at the time and that he was a geniunly good man , but he just wasnt ready for the amount of responsability that a child required. I found of all her stories to be extremely cliche and never actually found a meaning for them, I just couldnt find the reason why he would walk away on my mother and leave her with a child to raise, at such a short age...But i didnt hold any grudges, still clenching to the small hope i had to ever meet him.
After i was done with my pathetic excuse of a breakfast and after brushing my teeth, I realized it was pretty late so I grabbed my worn backpack wich was the only material memory i had of my father and hurried through the hallways.
-"Bye Mom!"- i screamed while rushing throught the front door.
-"Goodbye Damian , have a good day" she said.
turned to get a last glimpse of her and caugt her gazing at me in one of her "maternal" looks ... as she likes to call them.
I was walking at a slow pace , considering i was already running late , so I decided to skip my usual path and take a shortcut,the sidewalks from my neighborhood were very clean and well taken care of i considered. I lived in Ferndale, California . Known to be one of the most talented small towns in america. It was a very nice place to grow up in, except for the annoying people who considered themselves "artists" just for living in our town.
As i paced the sidewalks of Ferndale, I noticeda girl walking out of a house a little bit further from where i stood , I begged for her not to be Linda , a girl i had been friends with since chilhood , and with who i also had a romance with last year that hadn't lead to anything, since that same summer she has gotten together with one of Ferndale's wealthiest teens...and according to the old gossiping women from our town , one of Ferndale's most promissing inhabitants. I found the idea of bumping in to her repulsive ... but there she was , coming out of her perfectly organized garden.
-"Hey Linda..."- I said awkwardly meaning not to be rude and trying to ignore the pain she had inflicted the previous summer.
-"Oh..ermm hello Damian, were running late... not very good for the first day of senior year huh?"- Linda said with her soft voice ; quite amazed to find me on her way to school.
-"Yes, Im not very excited for first day i suppose"- I said, trying as hard as I could not to sound sarcastic; since that first day awkwardness lasted throughout the entire year in my case.
-"Well , yeah hmm I've heard senior year is supposedly the best year of school"-Linda said ,desperately trying to make a topic of conversation.
-"I guess its because ts the last one?"- I said , pointing out the obvious
She laughed finding my indifference amusing. few seconds past and se spoke again
-"Ermm well , how have you been , how was summer?"-Linda said
-"Hmm well guess it was ok, I just glad im 18 now"- I said , still being quite indifferent.
-"Oh God Im so sorry i forgot !... well happy late birthday for what its worth "- She sighed as if she had gotten really bad news, much worse than just a forgotten birthday.
I wasnt very surprised myself that she had forgotten, if she was so emotionally detached from me as to act like last year had not happened, least of all things would she remember my birthday.
-"Ok then"- The words came out of my mouth like sharp knifes with the objective of ending the awkward conversation .... A few minutes of silence later ,watching the trees, i began daydreaming.... wich fortunately distracted me from the awkward silence ... that seemed to go on forever.
ehhh no tengo titulo todavia , asi que se apreciarian sugerencias :)
bueno , chao. PAZ. cuidado con las iguanas.
Estoy orgulloso de ella , pero hay un pequeno problemin , esta en ingles... Asi que la compartire pero para todos aquellos amigosfren (paola menoscal te agradezco por introducir este termino a mi lenguaje) que no saben ingles, perdon ?
Dato curioso: Lo escribi en ingles ya que si, mi primer idioma es este y no , no pienso ser gringo , soy guayaquileno eno eno eno eno :) , ja.
dato muy curioso : Las iguanas estan tratando de apoderarse del mundo, lo se. Nunca confies en un animal al que se le caiga la cola , yo siempre digo.
Bueno sin mas demoras, elo aqui , mi introduccion *cambio de idioma a 20 segundos, reducir velocidad*
The sound of the alarm rang deep in my ears, like some kind of large, annoying bell stuck in my head. After a hitting a few snoozes , i gave into the alarm and finally decided to get up. I opened my eyes and sat on my bed... I spent a few minutes gazing around the room, as if the mess i had done the previous weekend would magically dissapear. I finally stood up and walked into the bathroom , wich wasnt any more organized than my bedrrom. splashed my face with a handfull of water and stared at the mirror for a few minutes. looked as usual, my long hair was covering one of my eyes...I took the long piece of hair out of my eye so my view would be more clear, by doing this left both of my eyes uncovered, a sight not very often seen in my case, my eyes were still of the same strange , very clear color, my hair was as messy as always... specially after the long weekend that just passed. I found myself strangely looking at every little detail of my face, even though i had just turned 18 i looked a bit younger...I considered myself to be attractive, but i guess im one of those strange narcisist who only have opinions about themselves in the privacy of their own bathrooms.
Although i thought of myself as being fairly attractive, still thought I was perceibed as a pretty boy by everyone around me , since i had very soft features , maybe too soft for a regular looking boy ... this anoyed me. Perhaps this explained my rebelious hair and my way of dressing , my behaviour might be an excuse to not just be considered as "the pretty boy" but to be thought of as an individual.
After a quick shower, and drying my hair (wich only meant shaking my head from side to side) the bathroom was even more of a tragic sight than before, I walked out and grabbed some random black pants of the floor, a little bit tighter than the jeans i usually wear, a shirt i found hanging from my lamp , and my favorite shoes, some worn out red convers i had learned to love over the years, then I rushed to the kitchen so i could grab something to eat before i left . As i approached the kitchen, I could hear my mother rattling through the refrigerator in one of her hopeless attempts to be a "good mother" and make her only child breakfast... wich lead to yet another failure. Dont get me wrong , i love my mother but she is very tragic when it comes to anthing that involves cooking .... or cleaning for that matter, I think i inhereted that from her .
When i got to the kitchen, I saw her standing there ... still with the clothes she had slept with, watching the small TV placed on the kitchen counter, she strangely kept informed about the teenager music scene of the time...After i gave her her morning hug , I started making my own breakfast since my mother had already given up on her gastronomical abilites. My mother and myself had a very strong bond , mainly created by the fact that my mother had to raise me as a single parent, since she got pregnant at the young age of 16 , wich makes her aproximately 34 at the current moment. She is a very attractive woman, we looked pretty much the same physically , except for our eyes... her eyes were of a strange tone of honey hazel.
But apart from our physical similitudes, she liked watching at every single detail of EVERYTHING that hapened around her , like myself... She particularly enjoyed staring at me, particularly my eyes, she would always tell me how my eyes were exactly the same as my dad's , wich indicated she was still infatuated with the father i never met.
She had always told me stories about my father, how they were both very young and in love at the time and that he was a geniunly good man , but he just wasnt ready for the amount of responsability that a child required. I found of all her stories to be extremely cliche and never actually found a meaning for them, I just couldnt find the reason why he would walk away on my mother and leave her with a child to raise, at such a short age...But i didnt hold any grudges, still clenching to the small hope i had to ever meet him.
After i was done with my pathetic excuse of a breakfast and after brushing my teeth, I realized it was pretty late so I grabbed my worn backpack wich was the only material memory i had of my father and hurried through the hallways.
-"Bye Mom!"- i screamed while rushing throught the front door.
-"Goodbye Damian , have a good day" she said.
turned to get a last glimpse of her and caugt her gazing at me in one of her "maternal" looks ... as she likes to call them.
I was walking at a slow pace , considering i was already running late , so I decided to skip my usual path and take a shortcut,the sidewalks from my neighborhood were very clean and well taken care of i considered. I lived in Ferndale, California . Known to be one of the most talented small towns in america. It was a very nice place to grow up in, except for the annoying people who considered themselves "artists" just for living in our town.
As i paced the sidewalks of Ferndale, I noticeda girl walking out of a house a little bit further from where i stood , I begged for her not to be Linda , a girl i had been friends with since chilhood , and with who i also had a romance with last year that hadn't lead to anything, since that same summer she has gotten together with one of Ferndale's wealthiest teens...and according to the old gossiping women from our town , one of Ferndale's most promissing inhabitants. I found the idea of bumping in to her repulsive ... but there she was , coming out of her perfectly organized garden.
-"Hey Linda..."- I said awkwardly meaning not to be rude and trying to ignore the pain she had inflicted the previous summer.
-"Oh..ermm hello Damian, were running late... not very good for the first day of senior year huh?"- Linda said with her soft voice ; quite amazed to find me on her way to school.
-"Yes, Im not very excited for first day i suppose"- I said, trying as hard as I could not to sound sarcastic; since that first day awkwardness lasted throughout the entire year in my case.
-"Well , yeah hmm I've heard senior year is supposedly the best year of school"-Linda said ,desperately trying to make a topic of conversation.
-"I guess its because ts the last one?"- I said , pointing out the obvious
She laughed finding my indifference amusing. few seconds past and se spoke again
-"Ermm well , how have you been , how was summer?"-Linda said
-"Hmm well guess it was ok, I just glad im 18 now"- I said , still being quite indifferent.
-"Oh God Im so sorry i forgot !... well happy late birthday for what its worth "- She sighed as if she had gotten really bad news, much worse than just a forgotten birthday.
I wasnt very surprised myself that she had forgotten, if she was so emotionally detached from me as to act like last year had not happened, least of all things would she remember my birthday.
-"Ok then"- The words came out of my mouth like sharp knifes with the objective of ending the awkward conversation .... A few minutes of silence later ,watching the trees, i began daydreaming.... wich fortunately distracted me from the awkward silence ... that seemed to go on forever.
ehhh no tengo titulo todavia , asi que se apreciarian sugerencias :)
bueno , chao. PAZ. cuidado con las iguanas.
Hola, seamos amigos
Bueno si , decidi crear un blog ... quizas que de esta manera podre expresar lo que pienso y tendre mas probabilidad de ser escuchado ...Aunque no estoy seguro , he perdido mi fe en la humanidad ultimamente . Gente estupida con mentes cuadradas sin espacio para alternativas es lo que mas encuentro ultimamente , es mas creo estar rodeado de ellos , TODOS ... como una epidemia , no se porque no he sido afectado pero agradezco por esta "inmunidad?" . Desde que soy pequeno he sido ... diferente (vivia en mi propio mundo de pequeno , preocupando a todo el mundo a mi alrededor) , una cualidad que ahora es apreciada ya que ser raro parece estar de moda? (que le sucede a la gente) . Pero bueno , yo siempre pense que nunca encontraria gente como yo , por lo menos en este pais .... pero estaba MUY equivocado , hay TANTA gente como yo y llegado a conocer a muchos ultimamente ... y basicamente de esto se trata mi primera publicacion. Para poder expresar mi felicidad ante este encuentro con otra gente artistica y creativa .
Mi nombre: Constantino Endara , si me doy cuenta que mi nombre es extrano , pero creo amarlo por eso ...
Mi carrera: Fotografia: La amo con pasion , he encontrado algo que me apasiona, pienso en fotografia todo el dia . Y publicidad: Unica profesion alterna que satisfacia el hambre empresarial de mis padres y al mismo tiempo me permitia liberar mi creatividad.( debido a cierta gente , ahora odio esta palabra )
Lo que hago : respiro , vivo , salto , canto , corro , abrazo , amo , rio , fotografio ... y escribo , estoy escribiendo mi primer libro con el cual supongo inundare sus monitores en futuras publicaciones.
Bueno , creo que eso es todo por hoy ya que necesito ir a fotografear y siento que si me quedo un minuto mas al frente del monitor , este aparato electronico succionara mi cabeza . adios :) PAZ.
Mi nombre: Constantino Endara , si me doy cuenta que mi nombre es extrano , pero creo amarlo por eso ...
Mi carrera: Fotografia: La amo con pasion , he encontrado algo que me apasiona, pienso en fotografia todo el dia . Y publicidad: Unica profesion alterna que satisfacia el hambre empresarial de mis padres y al mismo tiempo me permitia liberar mi creatividad.( debido a cierta gente , ahora odio esta palabra )
Lo que hago : respiro , vivo , salto , canto , corro , abrazo , amo , rio , fotografio ... y escribo , estoy escribiendo mi primer libro con el cual supongo inundare sus monitores en futuras publicaciones.
Bueno , creo que eso es todo por hoy ya que necesito ir a fotografear y siento que si me quedo un minuto mas al frente del monitor , este aparato electronico succionara mi cabeza . adios :) PAZ.
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