sábado, 11 de diciembre de 2010

In our very strange way.

My mother always found the daughter of her dreams in other people excepting me, her real daughter.
I don't blame her.
Not only I haven't becomed not even close to what she expected, but also I always found the mother of my dreams in other mothers excepting her, my real mother.

Maybe I learned from her, maybe it's a punishment, maybe it's really common.

I always feel like I have a completely different personality when I get to be with her (not very often), like this wall in between I build instantly, and I'm just waiting for her to say or do exactly what I know she'll do or say, and that's when an argument beggins or when I decide to stop having the conversation.

I also feel that she's not really interested in what happens in my life, as long as I'm "ok".
Ok in this case means working and studying something, the opposite would mean chaos (at least for her).

Maybe it's not a lack of interest, maybe it's just that we don't spend so much time together.

I've always rejected her vacation offers, I'm terrified of spending one entire week or more with her without knowing what a hell to say.

The truth is we don't know eachother.
Idon't know her favourite color, the name of her friends...
She doesn't know my favourite color, or pretty much nothing of my everyday life.
We both don't know 'cause we never tell it to eachother.

She hugs me saying: "I know you don't love me at all".
That ruins all the hug.

Sometimes this tortures me.
Sometimes I don't even think about it.

But I really love her, and I know she loves me too.
In our very strange way.

viernes, 10 de diciembre de 2010

What?

Saliendo del trabajo, bajo la construcción de la Iglesia de San Francisco sobre la calle Defensa, no me quedaba otra que caminar detrás de un hombre.
Hombre suena medio viejacho, mejor digámosle "tipo".
Un tipo en camisa y pantalón de vestir, lo que me hizo asumir que también salía de laburar.
Este tipo, estaba teniendo una conversación por celular mientras caminaba, la cual empecé a escuchar medio tarde y siempre escuché solo lo que decía el tipo, osea lo siguiente:

- Te juro! Hace clin-clin-clin boludo, no entiendo nada!
- Clin-clin-clin. Es rarísimo, mirá que hizo ruidos pero así nunca! Qué tendrá?
- Boludo clin-clin-clin, te dije que hace CLIN-CLIN-CLIN!!!
- No tarado, pi-pi-pi no! Es "ce, ele, i, ene": CLIN!
- Y pero escuchame che, y si me acompañás vos? Yo no entiendo mucho.
- Pero para entender te lo tengo que mostrar, así no lo entendés boludo...

Si, lo mismo estoy pensando yo. WTF?
En fin, algo tenía que hacer para entretenerme hasta el subte, no?

Me despido con un CLINNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!