LongGone.

I use writing as a method of relaxation and also to reflect on things that happened or need to happen. This week I came upon the realization that my group of real friends has come down to only a couple people. This doesn’t upset me but it made me question myself. I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong, if it’s my black humour, my weird taste in art or music, the way I talk to people or just the way I express my ideas. I overanalyzed my actions to the point I started thinking that it might be a “cultural shock”, the same conclusion Dr. Tucker gave me on our last therapy session when she had to name the mental illness I suffered during summer. Her conclusion was that I lost sense of security and identity, that coming to Canada was too much for me and that just now (after 5 years), my brain decided to shut off and isolate itself in an unknown place. I would re-consider her “conclusion” as a lazy statement of her ignorance, but I would highlight that there was a small amount of truth in her final decision to label me as an insecure teenager that suffered from a psychotic episode after a university party. The small truth is that I was lost, insecure and rejected. I can barely remember what got me into this whole mental breakdown, but as scary as it sounds, I do remember that I wasn’t able to make a complete rational sentence in Spanish. I remember telling my dad that it was hard for me to express myself and I was loosing my language. I remember how scared he was when he herd that, and how much him and my mom tried to help. I really dislike coming back to this, because I would rather leave all these memories in the past. As I said before I find myself overanalysing some situations to the point there is no end. I want to forget about my problems but I cant, everything relates to everything and I have to be more careful than ever not to drown in my own sorrows. My last meeting with my occupational therapist was great, I showed her my new art work and I told her things I needed to tell her, but she advised me to be careful, because in a month it will be my one year anniversary since the illness I had in summer, and subconsciously I can start facing the same symptoms I felt before. Not only she scared the shit out of me, she also warmed me to be careful and that if I need her help she is there for me. The point is, people keep getting pissed at me and I can’t really deal with their attitudes, I don’t care or I might care too much to consider dealing with them (as paradoxically as it may sound). People are more complex that they seem, and once they show they don’t want to hear what you need to say then why waist your time? As I said before, it might be a cultural separation that doesn’t allow me to express myself better, my manners or my words. I actually have no fucking idea and I would love to talk to everyone personally (except my ex because I’m done with him forever), and try to help myself to become a better person.

the end of the line

Hey everyone. So im posting a picture of the latest print/ink on wood piece I made for my Mixed media class... My reading week just started but yesterday i coulnt stop drawing random things. So I went with Alina to the school (ocad) woodshop and we found some free wood, I got a nice circle shaped one, it had 2 small holes on the top but I fixed it by putting a ribbon on it. I got some photocopies of my original work and traced it to the wood with a blender brush but then I tried nail polish removal and it also worked. The print wasnt that great, Im not sure why but in the end I liked the grungy look it had. I decided to use some ink with a really thin brush (one of my favourites) and I started making lines and some flowers... Im happy but I wish I could use colors for the project. I will try to paint/draw some more today since Its my break and I have time for personal stuff. Im supposed to be working for an animator to create a music video but he hasnt called me in a while, he told me hes sorting things out with art directors, etc... Anyways I will post new stuff soon.

Tonigh. Invisible.

-De que intimidad queres hablar, entendes lo que me queres decir?-

-La que dejaste atras en ese amanaque rosa? me queres decir de que se trata el misterio entre tus ojos, que te hace sudar en las manos?-

-Prefiero mentirle a la luna, mil y unas veces, cada noche, cada estrella, cada grito infantil, me enferma, con fiebre y mi corazon palpita la emocion de volver a ver despues de haber perdido la vista-

- Te das cuenta que ests confiando, en mis manos, las almas de esos elefantes rosados? No tenemos todo el dia para discutir, esto da vueltas, volvemos al pasado sin darnos cuenta, nos atraemos , pero mentimos a la maniana entre el cafe y los huevos fritos. Yo te pido que me digas la verdad, confia en mi…-

-No traigas tus suenos. Mis pies estan frescos, las suelas de tus zapatos estan sucias, con leche y tierra. Esa mugre entre tus unias me recuenda a el campo de la Pampa, viajamos caminando por deciertos de trigo. No entiendo para que volvemos al pasado, cuando vivimos un cuento de hadas. -

-No traigo mis suenos. Traigo mil herramientas de mercurio y otras formas abstractas de pensar y resolver un problema sistematico. No encuentro mentira mas clara que la que tienes en la frente de tu cara. No qiero perder el tren de las 3.30 de la tarde, las naranjas y el jugo de tomate estan podridos. Fiajate en la heladera te deje algo…-

-No quiero tus bombones de chocolate blanco, prefiero sentarme tomar un te, y alguna galleta. No qiero recordar tu carino. Te acordas esa noche, en la cama a la madrugada, me confensaste sobre ella. La que se pinta los ojos, delineando cada ilusion como una fantasia matematica. Presicion, composicion y perfeccion. Mis celos, mis venas bien difuntas, y tu selmon…-

-yo se que no es ficcion, es realidad. Mariposas encantadas en tu presencia, le cantas a cada petalo en caso de que necesiten un poco de carino. Te queria abrazar esa noche en Av. Lugano. Te compre flores rosas, fotos automaticas y un mantecol.

-Queres volver a tener 10 anios? Multiplicar por 4, resarle a la virgen escuchar un casette de Gilda, viajar hasta San Justo, juntarnos en un parque y besarnos a escondidas. Tu diversidad y tu verano, yo quiero tu cuerpo en el mio, admitilo me queres mas de lo que pensas.-

-Si, creo que llegamos al final de un largo camino. No hay lagos, no hay vida, ni sentido detras de toda esta tonteria. La moneria de tus esperansas, las mentiras que se cruzan en reflexiones atmosfericas, y traiciones moleculares-

-Otra vez dandole vida a un recuerdo de algo que nunca paso. Un verso ruso, de un poeta adicto a esa bebida marron. No derrames la copa por algo que no senti entre mis unias. Mojame los labios… lentamente.

Lust

This is a drawing of Molly Soda an internet celebrity that I met thanks to her popularity on tumblr (http://mollysoda.tumblr.com/). I made an animated version of this drawing and It got re blogged A LOT. Its kinda sad that only the pictures I dedicate to her get to be 'popular' and everything else I do is just disregarded. Anyways, these are all small problems in my head.

Talking about my head, I dyed my hair red on one side, and it looks kinda decent. I like it, but its fading really slowly. Im also stretching my ears bigger, cuz I want them to be SUPER cool.