The problem, I discovered today is that I do not know what my personality. How I really am. I have not clear. Then it makes me relate to people. With some rudimentary personality appears, to me it is easy to drive: we laugh, we talk, we go to our homes. In other case is less defined, then say things, I get red, I am going home. I have the baton with other granted and I rejoice in that ego thing diffuse and stays there, I go to my house. In other'm too honest, then I cry and talk about my theories and my world view and I remember my favorite things (my favorite quotes, my favorite moments in the film, my feelings favorite, my favorite conclusions made from my own life), and I feel some connection, some invisible bridge, and then I go home. But in any case no one is equal and what I have with each other is lost, and nobody is like that tamed fox. Not entirely.
why I find it, what's the word?, Not funny but not annoying, but a feeling out there in the middle, the alarmed ask me why I changed my nick fucking Twitter. And the answer seems sad, because somehow adulthood is the final stop-or intermediate-to which no one wants to go, as comfortable as we are there, in our perpetual adolescence, as reluctant as we are to mature.
The issue is simple: because I was tired of being Lilián the nerd. I'm not a nerd, that is, not only 'm a nerd. It is fair to say with any objectivity, any kind of consideration egomaniac, I'm a lot more things than a nerd. There are many things beyond, boundless. Things that can not be summarized in a nickname. No personality can. I guess it's good for many, to be known on Twitter as @ or @ fresitahermosapunk elbuenoschiles. For me, in many ways, it was good for some time. The reality is that we wanted to be me. Lilian Lopez Camberos. The Lilian did not fit, so the issue of pure names not bad. I suddenly felt it was time to drop those wireless teenage angst that I am reluctant to leave behind, and take who I am today.
Moreover, after a scholarship and Fonca idea of \u200b\u200btaking an apprenticeship as a writer, I can not afford to have the shadow of the nerd above me. I plan, if lucky enough to publish my book of short stories next year. I am in process of imagining and writing notes on my novel, which is more like a story whose outlines ruminate and characters are revealed only to me. Then there is the whole process up close and personal self. Or not. In fact it was only at the nerd.
"In the same vein, a few posts ago I talked about the idea of \u200b\u200bkilling the blog. This post, for example, I started writing in Tumblr. Things are easier there, but photos are lost without direction and much visual garbage. The reality is that my blog, my dear blog, which I never give up, I thought to get there (as mentioned by Gaby Saturday) to its logical conclusion, now I'm embarrassed a lot. I do not recognize there. I do not recognize it in posts like or this or this or it . Hell, not even recognize myself in it , I wrote a few months ago. I think that at this tender age, I have 24 years-is very easy to change. And do it quickly. I am not, nor by accident, the same as in 2005 began writing a blog called The Island at Noon. I'm another person, in many different ways. There are flames, burning embers, the person I always was: my own life, the education I received, the type of culture that I used and the people I met, and that kind of experience that do not die and remain from he was nineteen. But while many things have happened that we inevitably feel that every time I leave more of that person. That's fine.
Then, as if it really important, I feel that this blog does not reflect who I am today. Five years were important, but already experienced . I can not extend it, or cling to them as if they were the support of my boat, then perhaps they are only decoration. Uncomfortable decor, such as photos of adolescence: horrible, embarrassing, disappointing. Of course, it would be nice to think that I can keep writing here and compare what was written in 2005-2006, I can write in 2015. But will it have any sense? Should not I leave this blog as a beautiful and painful memories of my youth, and follow forward to what follows? I do not even feel comfortable writing as promptly of what happens to me every day, with exact fidelity and unnecessary: \u200b\u200bif a taxi driver found idiot if I went to Oaxaca, or I was in New York (not thought possible and, as unexpectedly) that if I ate some tacos that hurt me, if I got scolded on my work or my boss three years ago was an idiot. What matters. I did not come into the world to vent my life. There is another goal, I'm looking for him, and I do not know ... I know this is not.
For now, I do not know what to do with this. I do not like rereading past records. My self shatters all the nonsense of this world y. .. I do not know. Let's leave it at that any more. In the not knowing.
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