to the future

Since July 01, it has been my tendency to write a post in the weblog, as the month approaches its end, where I recapitulate everything that has happened since. In retrospect, the Julies can be summerized as follows:

01: quite sad.
02: boring.
03: rather exciting!
04: Living life.
05: Onward.

Now, this post is to concern a month that has not elapsed, but one that has hardly begun. Then again, these July-posts are not necessarily about July but about the year that concludes. Also, this particular post is not actually intended to encompass the events of the past year. I have no desire for that. Why so? I don’t know. I want to speak of my aspirations, of my dreams. I want to focus on these illusory bits of stuff. “He who stops dreaming, stops living. He who stops thinking, stops being.” So onward.

In a few weeks, and how time flies, I shall find out what my future shall be like. Perhaps I will return to St. John’s … though I suspects the chance of this occurring is nill. No-one wants me to return save a few people.

In a few weeks I will either be reunited with my books or see them travel further away from my reach. Of all my possessions, these I love best.

In a few weeks, I shall either decide to continue growing my hair or get a haircut. I know I look better with short hair … something that makes me look more boyish. Yet I hesitate because I have this obsession with detracting from my looks. As someone said to me, “Se nota que tus padres te hicieron con amor.” And I try to compensate for this, to put myself at a disadvantage.

The only reason why I let my hair grow out the first time was because I wanted a new me upon my arrival at St. John’s. In the end, I have discovered that instead of producing a new me, new places cause the old me to flourish more. St. John’s brought out the nerd in me, as well as releasing my passion; this is the only institution that has made me cry in anger and joy over a work.

So perhaps, as I move forward, I should cut my hair. Perhaps what is called for is short hair and fanciful sideburns. I always fancied such things and have been able to pull them off as a look.

What I’m really dying for is a piercing! I can’t describe this giddiness I feel when I think about it. I’m totally psyched out! The question is: can I get away with it?

According to one of my friends, I look too ‘corrupt’ too ‘haggard’ and ‘wordly’ … am I wordly? Hah! Will the piercing add to this? Whoo. I want to be innocent looking … perhaps the fire in my eyes is too intense.

Finally, in a few months I might be moving to a wonderful place that is very much me. I love Santa Fe … it’s an amazing place that never ceases to amaze me. The craziness is unbelievable and the people are super nice. The people in San Francisco are too-much like me. They are city-people; when riding the subway … no one cares. No one notices the boy who in one hand holds a book while in the other a small black book with a pencil, in which he will write as quickly as possible, furiously, any idea that springs forth. San Francisco is too decadent … it is not fanciful, it is not whimsical … it is San Francisco. It has lost its glory. It is a name, a symbol of something no longer there. I love San Francisco though. It is a part of me. It taught me to appreciate beauty in things where others do not see beauty. When the fog rolls in, others sigh in grief, “Drat, the sun is gone!” while I will say “Hurrah! Oh wonderful fog, to walk through clouds over an abyss of ocean and darkness. Sweet danger.” As human beings, we are taught to appreciate the same things: light is good, darkness is bad. I appreciate the sun but I find more beauty in the fog, in the darkness of night … not many are able to appreciate its complexity. We are prone to be swooned by the simple.

Ah life, I love it … I love its feel, its innocense…. Let’s see how much of this comes to fruition


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