Happy birthday baby brother. This one is on your name.

I like when caffeine kicks in. Not that I´m a coffee addict or anything, only that since I don´t drink a lot of coffee, when I do I can tell the difference. When the caffeine starts to run through my veins I would feel more energetic, a lot more, especially after a double espresso in Milan, Italy. No child´s play here; coffee is a serious matter in this country. 

The energy hits my entire body and I imagine the sequence of the movie Limitless when this wonderful pill hits the brain and everything seems more colorful and clear, and the mind is sharper. I can tell why people drink coffee. I feel as if my eyes are abnormally open.

I have a brother and a sister. My brother died when the three of us were little, he was the youngest; an unexpected gift from the universe, one that stayed with us a little time, but of which I´m eternally grateful with life.

Last night as I went to bed I thought of all the wonderful things the universe provides for me and my family, including my partner, our dog (Dharma, the little bitch we raise as if she´s an arabic princess) and our two cats. How blessed I am because of my friends as well. The old and new ones, especially the newest ones, so unexpected and, as one of them said recently, "just drop-kicking their way in". She was talking about me. All the walls one would build up in order to be safe, broke down with my karate hands. Also grateful for the projects that I involve myself into. Even the weird and awkward situations are a gift, I´m sure they always provide a big part of awfulness and a little part of good lesson; only the awful parts fade away fast and the good lessons remain. I went to bed and I kissed my partner´s lips good night. I smiled in the dark and said "thank you" in silence; I said it mute but I articulated the words with my lips. Thank you.

I woke up and my dream was still clear. I dreamed of my brother. Not alive, he wasn´t there, he was in spirit. We talked about him; we visited a grave that was supposed to be his, but even in my dream, he wash´t there. His corpse had faded away and the grave was clean. Flawless. No leaves or branches. The undertakers had cleaned it up, "because we like him a lot", they said. I guess that´s why I never visit his grave in real life, because I know he´s not there. I smile thinking that he´s everywhere and he accompanies me. I don´t carry him on my back, no. He´s more of a figure that walks by my side.

Before, I couldn´t speak about my brother, I would cry seconds after starting mentioning him. His departure left me a little hole in the heart, that emptiness used to hurt. It doesn´t anymore.

The first time I went to Canada was with my partner at the time. We flew into Toronto and then we left for Quebec, Montreal and we ended in New York City. We flew back home from JFK after 14 days. It was a very cold spring, but a lovely one to always remember.  When in the bus from Toronto to Montreal I was playing a Chill Out record; the first song was Little Brother (by Aromabar, the first version of it, without all the mix effects that now has). The first time I played it while in the bus, made me cry because I thought of my baby brother. I don´t now what it was, the guitar notes in the beginning of the track or the soothing female voice that keeps repeating, "little brother, where are you now?"; she responds to her self, "I am here". To the accords of that song I type this post right now and my heart is happy and my eyes dry. I smile mellowly while typing and I say "thank you" out loud.

When back home, I decided I needed to deal with that subject. My brother was a happy memory that turned sad and hurt when present as a thought. I wanted to be emotionally healthy and remember him the way he was, all smiles and almost my twin (probably not just physically, he was also a pretty cool baby, like I was you know). A happy being in the tale of my life. 

I went through therapy and cried my heart out for weeks. My eyes would pour tears like endless heavy rain, I confronted all these feelings and, in the end, I felt better, I was new. My brother is now one of the most joyful chapters in my early existence, and one recurrent character in the story of my life. Now I speak about him and I feel happy and I would top that happiness with some melancholy, but now the sadness has gone, and the melancholy I talk about is a positive one. You know how energy is neither created nor destroyed? that sorrowful vibe has transformed into glee and enjoyment. Now I can listen to Little Brother and smile instead of feeling blue. I grin while typing this. 

I have always been a very light sleeper. Any sound, no matter how low, would wake me up; I would go back to sleep just as easy, but I´m pretty much always alert. Don´t think I don´t rest, I do, and this "ability" has been very useful when traveling on my own and staying in super crowded dorms in hostels. It has come in so handy, that I remember in Jerusalem (the second or third time I was there), the south african girl sleeping below me in the bunk bed asked me to wake her up every day at 5 am to go to work. She was a heavy sleeper, so I would have to get off my bed on top of the bunk and decidedly shake her in order to wake her up. It was a mission, not impossible whatsoever, but since I´m super responsable, I took it very seriously and I wouldn´t go back to sleep unless she was up and standing on her way to (one of) the shower (s).  

My brother slept in my room. His cradle was just a couple of meters away from me and I always remember my mom getting into the room to check him out in the middle of the night, to cover him back with his blanket in case he would had moved. My mom had a green oversized silky night robe (she was super skinny. She still is); she would wear that one in my memory. I would take a look at them for a couple of seconds then I would go back to sleep. Most of the times my mom would also kiss me good night again, after checking on him and I would kiss her back, all sleepy. She would say, "go back to sleep", while caressing my head. I would obey. Fade to black.

I woke up in a good mood because I dreamed of my mom, my dog, my partner, my brother and I, and my old car, only it was pink; Mary Key pink. My dream was full of love and contentment. Even when we saw the empty grave we felt good, because we all knew that a corpse is just a container and his had vanished. My little brother´s energy will always live inside and around us or in someone else´s heart and body. I believe in reincarnation. So, who knows. Possibilities are endless.

I woke up and my mom had sent me an email, a short one. It was almost as if I was listening her and as if she read my mind: "it´s your baby brother´s birthday. Lets celebrate in joy. I love you". 

Today´s my baby brother´s birthday. He would be 31 years old and I bet we would get along perfectly, like my sister and I. I will eat birthday cake today to celebrate the day he was born. Because the time he was with us was pretty awesome and, since I´m very happy because he existed, I can throw a party now; although, I won't do it because I rather have the entire cake for myself. Not that I´m sheltering in food, it´s just that I like cake very much, and birthday cakes are usually very good, all spongy and full of this "Holiday/Celebration" energy.

This post is a tribute to the little person that sculpted me in a very big way. The therapist ended one of the last sessions by saying that me and my sister should be very grateful to him; because we are who we are because of him; because we turned out pretty good. You know, no drugs or alcohol or bad teenage years at all. We turned out very safe responsible travelers. You see, my sister and I are addicted to traveling and to have this "where the hell am I?" feeling when you get to a new strange country, we love that feeling. Like the first time we went to Egypt in the mid 90s, when no one spoke english and we spent one day without eating because we had no idea what was what and couldn't differentiate a falafel shack from a shoe shop; to our eyes, everything looked the same. So weird.

I have always been very aware of my senses. I´m especially sensitive to odors, doesn´t matter, good or bad. Not that I would get all grossed out with the smell of skunk pee, in a way I think I enjoy it; it reminds me of my neighborhood in San Diego, it was all "foresty" and we would always see raccoons and skunks almost every night. 

One day I was in my room and I smelled incense, a very nice one, like Nag Champa, not fruity at all, more "mystical". There was no reason why I would be able to smell incense coming from the window. Our neighbor´s house was far and my window faces the garden (no smell of flowers in Nag Champa incense. Not that we have many flowers in the garden. It´s green, but there are lots of grass, cypresses and green vegetation). The source of that incense scent was nowhere to be found. On the first hit of the Nag-Champa like fragrance I thought of my brother and smiled, I decided it was him saying hello to his big brother. I said "Hi little brother" back to him.

I´m almost gone to the gym, caffeine is hitting hard and I want to burn it our of my system. I wanted to let him know that I´m here, before taking off. That I´m making our parents proud and I´m living my life responsible but to the fullest. Also that I see him in the the face of my nephews. But mostly that I think of him with the singing of birds and whenever I smell incense. Happy birthday little brother. 

Running through out one of my homes. I prefer green tea, thank you very much.

I love when a city that was strange months ago, becomes this regular place; like a neighborhood, one of your homes. I cannot say my second home, I have plenty of those, at least three: Guadalajara, Barcelona and Paris, in terms of houses, it´s a lot, you have to love them all, how many loves of the same kind can one shelter?.

Although, Milan is becoming so familiar lately, like a new friend that feels old. Of that I know well, I met one of my BFFs in the last few months and we feel like old family nowadays. If you believe in reincarnation and that sorta stuff, you can understand. The first time you meet this type of people seems new, then a couple of days later it feels like forever, like old friends, as if we both were diaper-changed together, or twins split up when born. Now she writes and so do I, her future is success, mine is too. I always wish it is, I hope it is and I work so it can be for sure. Four weeks ahead in time from right this moment I update my status and I end with the phrase, "I love my life". I do, I love my life. Happiness is success. I am happy. Ergo, I´m successful. I have everything I dream of, everything I wish for and I work to make wishes a full choice, one I decide to take. Like a man.

The universe was the one who suggested me to think of today as if it is four weeks ahead. Not that I deny my current existence, four weeks before of this four weeks ahead, everything´s beautiful and I am where I have to be; and of that I´m grateful. My current life is pretty fantastic. It´s just that envisioning makes you build a better scheme, gets your project even more refined; thinking four weeks ahead it´s not just wishful thinking, it´s seeing what you already have ahead in time, a glance of your own future.

Thinking four weeks ahead it´s a tool that gets me faster to where I want and I´m meant to be. The universe is very hi-tech; the advice I received was via email, and when saying good bye, it´s usually on a warm way that makes me feel even closer. Closer than when I see a succession of 1s or a feather in my path. I see those even here, in Milan; just yesterday while running 10 K through out some of the city streets I checked some out. I see. I listen. I learn.

Milan feels like home now. I don´t speak italian but I do. No matter what, I end up having conversations about everything and anything in italian, and when I get stuck, I would say it in english, spanish or french (in that order), and they would say the word in italian; then I would fit the new word in the phrase. There you are, that´s me speaking the language that I have never studied.

Trivialities seem more important when said in italian, especially for a non italian speaker. The language presses so much drama to ice creams or directions, such a passionate joy. You know how they say french is the language of love? well, italian is the language of drama, fake and artificial, but only in the beginning, afterwards one understands that that passion and that drama it´s 100% authentic.

Italian is probably to sexy, what french is to love. If your order a double espresso, long and with sugar in it, you will end up sounding as if you're insinuating an "indecency" to the hot waiter. No matter the gender, the server will end up nodding and looking at you smiling, staring at you directly in the eyes and fanning those curly thick eyelashes. "Chiaro. Di subito|". They would say kindly.

Yesterday I ran 10 K through out Milano. It felt new and also old; like every time I run over Paris, San Diego or from the pier in San Francisco to Sausalito. New because I passed by buildings and squares I´ve never been before. Old because I told the city: "you are home". It´s home when I decide to caress its pavement with my feet, my running shoes. "I like you and I go around you as I please because we own each other in a way". Running through out a city is for me just like what I do when I stay at a place that´s not mine. I move furniture around and add a tiny little thing that wasn´t there before (can be incense or a candle). That way I make the space mine, it´s different than what it was before I got there.

To the accords of an old piano, with a dusty sound in the back, I look out of this tall window, of this apartment, in this avenue and I look at this lady passing by. What would I think if I was her and I´d see me seeing her (in that case me as well): who is this guy, why is he there? must be awesome to live in this area, does he go often to this candy place? where does he take his coffee?

I don´t drink coffee. I always prefer green tea.

Since the very first moment we take misconceptions as truths. She must be married and she´s looking for school material for her children, they just got back to school.

No, she isn´t married and loves to walk around here. She´s secretly in love with the owner of the Bakery. Whom loves his wife. Whom loves the milk man. Whom loves her back.

First time I came to this place after the first couple of times (years and years before that), I practiced a couple of phrases so I could get myself around. Today I just let myself go and I talk to Elisa, a blond skinny girl from the dog park. We talk about how crowded the park gets later and how Leo, her dog, and Dharma, my bitch, get along. Meaning Leo runs around Dharma playful and enthusiast, back and forth to the limits of this confined canine grassy paradise, while she ignores him and sniffs around looking for the perfect scent that will make her pee, pee even more and then pee again. She´s into smells, that´s her fetish. My bitch, making daddy proud.

I remember when my mom suggested I´d listen to what life was telling me at every step. When you´re young you really don´t listen, not often to your mom, let alone the universe. The idea is so vague and abstract, it´s so hard to deal with this sorta concerns when you´re head is full of youth and inexperience. I was 22 I think. Today I still feel like 22. Only by now, I have experienced emotions, trips, people and I have given a long thought to subjects that seemed irrelevant before. That has opened my head, but most important, it has opened my heart... And probably my third eye and all. Did I say that out loud?

Opening a package, getting rid of instructions and the box, and just plugging the thing in without any fear of consequences. That has been me many times. Not that I´m proud. So many times I needed to read instructions before, but even more times this recklessness has taking me places and made me who I am now. Maybe that same rashness is the one that has put me where I am right now. For that I´m grateful. Where was I? Oh yes! Feels unfinished? It´s not, it´s just an anti cathartic paragraph.

Now my friends are different. We are all damaged in some way, bonly or wounds are alike. We also love, we all love with no boundaries. Some take long to say I love you, but at the end we all say it and we mean it. We connect in another level and share points of view. We also have been taking care of the same kinda hurts; some times we carry the same scars. Thyroid tumor and treatment or being dumped the same way by the same sorta person. Bruises look similar among my friends and I, maybe we were injured in the same accident and we don´t know it. By this moment we are all happy enough to cure each others hearts by having a ton of fun and telling happy stories, all sorta stories. We laugh a lot, we got rid of the stones that teenage usually makes you carry on the back. Now I write them and share them. The universe have put us in the same road, we wave hello and decided to stop for a coffee in this dinner. The waiter is not italian, but looks like James Dean. He smokes and also carries a broken heart. Anyways he smiles and shows perfect teeth.

In the end Milan is the place there I am today. In three more days I´ll be back home to Paris and there I will shape myself and my future. First things first. I will kiss and pet my cats hello, walk the dog and then post again here. Pour my thoughts I thought were in order and let them out like the faucet that´s next to me; so stormy, the water comes out as if the ocean wants to come out of there. Hope the pipes can support that.

Running makes me happy. Every time I do it, I thank for every single step I take, for being able to do it. Life is a gift, and I think we all should live it as that, a present that is given to us and that´s being renewed every second. For mine I´m grateful. I always am.

Practical guide for expats to survive in Paris. Or how I just remembered how much I love the city of light

Today is like the first day of the rest of my life. You know when everything feels sorta new and refreshed? Well, that´s today. The feeling is grand, it´s like I am reborn again, only fully grown and experienced up to where I was last night.

I just found out that a really good friend of mine is moving to Paris, he will be here in 15 or 16 days. I emailed him earlier and just told him to bring tortillas (the Mexican corn kind), 1 kilo (almost 2 lbs.)  is only $1.15 USD there, 10 Euros in Paris ($13.15 USD), slight difference and just a tiny joke that can also be taken as advice.

See, tortillas with melted cheese inside are quesadillas, you can garnish them with salsa, or vegetables, they are really good and super easy to make. Quesadillas are to Mexicans what sandwiches are for Americans, or what a croque is for Frenchs. With the variety of cheeses in France and with some tortillas from Mexico, when it come to types of quesadillas one can make here, the parisian sky is the limit.

Then while working out, after repeating the mantras I repeat every time I do cardio, I thought I would write him again and give him a heads up in some of the other "small" things one cannot found in this awesome city.

You see, not long ago, I found out I was the holder of this "magical thinking" power; almost everything I wish comes true, and I say almost, because one of the conditions is that all I wish for has to be good for me and those around me, that would count for a good 90%, give or take. That includes shooting stars, 11:11, 1:11 (or any succession of identical numbers... more elaborated than it sounds, but subject for another post), magic lamps, mantras, double rainbows, any given normal situation, etc.

So, one day I came to Paris for the first time, awful experience, but then I came back for the second time and Loved it, and then I wished to live here one day, and now I do. The circumstances are very particular and also deserve an independent post, but the thing is that my wish came true as many others I have made along my life.

When I first arrived here to officially "move in" was odd, I got here with a couple of big suitcases, a carry on, my back pack with my Mac and my cat, a half persian, half street black feline that sometimes plays hard to get and sometimes begs for love and kisses, but mostly meows loud when hungry.

The day of my departure, the flight was delayed like 5 hours and the airline gave the passengers a big bunch of vouchers for food and drinks, I was so hungry, and just after finishing my scrumptious dinner it started to itch here and there, then everywhere and in 10 minutes I was in the airport´s hospital, major food poisoning and that was a couple of hours before boarding. By the time I landed in Paris, my diet for the 5 next days would be just rice "toasties", avocado and banana, basically, maybe something else I don't remember. I couldn't eat normally until I landed in Barcelona a week later to spend xmas, where some of the closes members of my family live and are from, so its basically home, I guess I can say: "I couldn't eat normally until I landed in Barcelona and I was home", very good deal for me, one of my favorite restaurants in the world is there, Ugarit, Xix Tavuk combination my fave dish. It was just awesome.

So I live in Paris now.

Apparently, the city is wonderful always, but once you´re installed you start to realize that many things that you take for granted when you live in Canada, Mexico or USA don't actually exist here. At first you think it is only this one supermarket that don´t have whatever one´s looking for, but then, it´s tens of supermarkets and at the end it´s just not there, or it is in this little store near Saint Paul, only it costs 10 times their known (by you) cost.

I was about to email my dear friend and tell him to bring Degree, Sure or Arrid XX, you know antiperspirant/deodorant.

But before we have to go back a little bit in history, just to understand this better.

Remember how perfumes and scents in general are super popular in France? in fact the country is very well known by this product in particular. The village of Grasse is in the south of France, where a big deal of The Perfume, by Patrick Süskind, takes place, such a big deal. Most people outside here (the popular knowledge back in America and the Americas I mean) think it is because the french don´t shower and thus, they smell bad. Well, it´s not entirely a myth. You see, I like to workout, I´m a foodie and I will always prefer to leave part of the calories and as much fat as possible in the gym, rather than stop enjoying food, and I have to say that currently I´m in pretty good shape, maintaining my weight and slowly (actually) getting in better shape. So I go to the gym, 50 to 60 minutes of cardio first and then a group of muscles, very simple. In the gym some smell awful and they seem to not be aware of that fact and when they finish their routines and all the shower, but ultimately don't apply any "armpit" product. Deodorant or antiperspirant that is.

Long story short, there are deodorants in France, and a few antiperspirants, but not as powerful. The options are, A) the ingredients on deodorants and antiperspirants in France are basically shit and it´s like spreading transparent Nutella, or, B) the body´s PH of some of the inhabitants in this city it´s pretty fucked up, and it probably has to do with the food the eat, but anyway, it´s better to bring the hard guns from somewhere else. I usually bring my antiperspirants from the US, very reliable chemical products that will keep you dry and smelling like a high sophisticated executive or as lavender forever, take your pick.

Also, there´s no Pam, Boom!! There, I said it, no one was acknowledging the anti adherent elephant in the room. "I have no idea how they bake", I said to my two BFFs here, one was shocked and the other took a couple of seconds and said. "maybe they just butter", sure they do. Now I bring mine, a two pack from Costco, and I would bring for my expats friends, it´s like xmas every time someone arrives from the US. My flight back to Paris usually originates in San Diego, CA.

Differences are always there, I think only the UK and the US have enough products to make all expats from every nationality comfortable with the selection of international products. Other than that, not even "super expat" friendly Mexico, good thing the US it´s just right there, a couple of hours away by plane from Mexico City and just minutes away by car from my house in Tijuana. Trader´ Joe´s, Whole Foods Market, Vons, etc. You can always stock up there.

Spain is adorable and the food delicious, but super markets look as if they´re still in Francisco Franco´s time, only two of every product tops, three on a very good week, but nothing very international and the feeling of "fascism" it´s very palpable in super markets. As a member of the latin community I can say it´s not that bad either, Equatorians, Venezuelans, Colombians, Argentinienas and lots of Mexicans go there to study or work, so, their products are available in many spots.

Italy has such an amazing variety... of only italian products, they love their food so much, that they devote entire floors in big gourmet stores to their goods, but only italian stuff on display though. I like that italians support their food so much, I mean, who wouldn´t, right? I think italian it´s one of the most popular foods in the entire world, but that´s also limiting. There are a few latin and asian markets, but that´s pretty much it.

France it´s ok, a lot friendlier with expats in terms of ingredients. The gourmet section of Galeries Lafayette it´s a great place, although La Grande Epicerie de Paris it´s paradise, and I´m not going to start talking about Marks & Spencers food store, one of the best things that has ever happened to Paris since the liberation from the Nazis in 1944. Latin markets are here and there, not as many as asians, but definitely those that rule in Paris are the middle easterns, north africans and africans in general, they got their business going on here. Amen!

Integration to Paris lifestyle it´s not easy, but I bet it´s easier than integrating to Russia´s or Bhutan´s, I don't even wanna picture myself living there. Other than the antiperspirant and heavy odors stuff for people´s PH, food it´s pretty friendly and can accommodate plenty. Croissants are so good, and just as language, after a while you will understand why when it comes to pastries and all, Frenchs are so picky. In the dome of croissants there are even better qualities; if you thought you had the most amazing butter or almond croissant, there´s a friend that know an even better one, and when you try it you know this friend was right, but then you stumble into a new bakery and they make even better buttery croissants there; it´s start from scratch all over again, to classify the top 5 croissants in Paris it´s a hard task... But someone has to do it, right? That´s why I run until I burn 1500 calories and then and only then I feel more or less, less guilty about eating that many croissants. Only today I had 5, not the regular size though, the mini ones, but even then, that´s like 2 and a half, and that´s pretty much a lot for one day, considering tomorrow I will try the best almond croissants with my (about to leave back home... sniff) BFF.

At the end, Paris is lovely. You tend to forget you live here, but when it hits you because you´re walking busy and all distracted and, suddenly, you find yourself with the sparkling Eiffel Tower in the dusk of day right in front of you gigantic and powerful seducing you with lots of light winks; or crossing the Pont Neuf witnessing this stunning view of the Seine river and the beautiful monumental buildings along the left and right banks.

Not too long, a very smart person that´s not from Paris (but she´s a resident since a few years ago) told me we are very lucky to be here. That a big bunch of people wish to live here and not a big percentage of those wishes come true. Ours came true and we are here. We travel the streets of Paris day and night and get to go wherever in the city to will. For that I´m grateful. When I get to that thought I´m suddenly super happy; I usually take a selfie and post it with the caption, "I live here", code for "blessed and thankful to be living my dream". And smile for joy knowing whatever I wish for becomes a reality.

UFOs and quoting interesting guys from other times

"He doesn't talk for long stretches, and then he's incredibly eloquent.”, that´s Ted describing Don on Mad Men, one of my favorite shows of all times, which as we all know, its about to come to a successful and graceful end, beginning the 1970s decade.

Just like everything else in the world, this show ends after, what, six seasons? I´ve learned so much about style, unprotected sex and not picking up your garbage after a picnic (although I always pick up my rubbish after my "idilic" picnics) in Mad Men. In that same sense I have also learned how to channel my energy and ideas towards a very precise goal by one of my BFFs now. Yes, remember this writer friend that was sorta new weeks ago? well, now is my unconditional and I´m her´s, she knows that, now we can communicate through subtle winks and looks and shouts, very primal, but only in impression, it´s really really sophisticated, like in the future when we all will be able to use telepathy on the regular basis and skip the bluetooth or 5G or 6G technology, just thinking about someone will be enough to encage in a sorta "call", no long distance fees necessary... Although I don't quite resolve how it will be when the person you want to reach via telepathy is "telepathy-ing" with somebody else. Oh well, I´ll just let technology surprise me. 

You know how I´ve always reside in the side of reason, right? well, if you don´t know, I do; I´m pretty reasonable. I mean, UFOs, Aliens and stuff it´s a given truth, at least it is to me and to Giorgio Tsoukalos, super sharp ancient astronaut theorist and host of Ancient Aliens, currently playing on History 2, it´s like a free, living and walking open encyclopedia, pretty reasonable to me.

Anyways, I´m always very centered and logical, but now that I know that my BFF is leaving I can´t help but wish for the lottery to hit us (now we share expenses on Lotto tickets and of course we will share the prize... yeah baby!!) so we have the "resources" to keep commuting between wherever we all are... and also keep mailing Timbits and Pills that make your boobs grow to will, no biggie. I know she will do great, but it´s like wishing the summer break doesn´t end, but that would be like avoiding xmas to arrive, and you also know how much I love xmas, and Thanksgiving, I think this last one even more, right? in case you don´t know, I do; there´s something about turkey breast with cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes with marshmallows in the last few days of november that´s so appealing to me. And don't let me start on Pumpkin pie and all the spices that blend in its recipe, just don't let me start.

You also have to know how very improbable friendships happen, like Lena Dunham being super "bestie" with Claire Danes, or Gwyneth Paltrow with Madonna (although macrobiotic diets and stuff can get people together, I´m sure inside the misery of that food friendship is like a bag of Doritos. No harm intended to macrobiotic dieters, I´m just saying), like, who would have said they were like "comadres". Well, this isn't the case at all. As whimsical as fait is, we were meant to become "besties", no random act of destiny here, we were probable since the very beginning of this awesome road-trip our lives; we were just meant to meet, we´re like twins separated the day they were born, it´s so much fun, we even fantasize of being roommates in a parallel universe (I mean, we´re 22, but we are adult enough to have our own places and stuff). At the end all gets reduced to enjoying whatever happens today, hope for the best tomorrow and be sure we will win the lottery on tuesday. 

There´s a point in life, just like in Don Draper´s, when you have to move on and accept what you have and embrace it. We will always be family now and like close relatives we will Skype, meet up in great capitals of the world and speak on the phone and, eventually, communicate via telepathy, but always hoping our dreams come true and sooner than later be business partners, share projects, dinners and business class flights to the Maldives or something like that, no biggie.

I like to quote smart people, in this case characters, I like them a lot, I have written about them and I have also created a couple. 

Like Don Draper would say. "I keep going to places and ending up somewhere I´ve already been", super sharp, right? I´m not sure what he´s trying to say, but it fits my idea, we will always be there for each other no matter where, we can take planes to anywhere and we will always end up just having fun, watching some random goats yelling like humans or taking a senseless idea to the limit and end up cracking up in loud laughs. And at the end, just like this Rick guy said in Casablanca. "We´ll always have Paris".

Under the milky way tonight: about romcoms, dreams come true and being back.

A really good new friend, that turned into super close twin soul super fast and that also blogs, told me she does it every once in a while (blogging), as often as she feels like it. I did it intensely the first two weeks after opening it (I think that a Blog it´s like gallery, a gallery of ideas where you exhibit what you think about certain subjects and develop your ideas through words, so, I opened it, like a spot you walk by in the streets) I eagerly talked about this and that and then got hooked into school and life, responsibilities and lost it for a few months, but this is retaking it, only knowing that I will do it just like this beautiful writer friend whose Poppy Red birthday color I like so much.

I write in first person, fearless of criticism; I am me and this is what I think of where I am right now. That is, living a dream I had since I was little.

I have always loved cinema, at some point I was so sure I would become a film director, a filmmaker, more independent than commercial, but still accesible, more like a Wachowski brother, because I love art and stuff, but I also like to fly first class and to be pampered by a swedish masseuse every now and then. So I would watch lots of movies, some of them were full milestones for me, like Luis Buñuel´s Belle de Jour or Won Kar Wai´s In The Mood For Love. I ended up studying communication, then cinema for a year (more like producing and appreciation, script writing than directing) and then Architecture from scratch, afterwards Interior Architecture and Design. This is not a subliminal way of showing you my resume, I´m actually making a point, although it usually takes me longer than the average person. Anyways I took a different path and I love it.

Eventually kept watching movies and Only You (1994) crossed my eyes in the movie theatre in Horton Plaza in San Diego´s downtown and got myself a ticket: I have always been very fond of Robert Downey Jr´s work, this one was a romcom (i love romcoms) and Marisa Tomei was in it, and that was the time when we all thought Marisa Tomei was going to be as big as Julia Roberts, so I watched it and loved it. Set in Italy,  in the story the couple takes a trip to the Amalfi Coast, to Positano, I was instantly mesmerized by the views, the setting in general was so beautiful, and by then Europe in general was only a dream to me (I went to Europe first in 1995), no idea where that was and in those days I was using internet mostly to chat via ICQ, no way browsing where that place was was even an option, so, I knew it was the coast of Italy and that´s it.

Romcom wise I have very good taste, in general I have very good taste but I´m even more tasteful when it comes to romcoms (my super twin soul also loves romcoms, that just one of the hundred things we share in common), so when Under The Tuscan Sun (2203) came out I went straight to the theatre and watched it, no matter the 500% more expensive price of the ticket, that was no issue, Diane Lane was in it and Sandra Oh made her first very big appearance. Alas! I loved it! How could´t I, my favorite elements were there, house make over, food, Italy, a story of success and a very handsome man, plus the Amalfi Coast with Limoncello and all. By then I was lucky enough to be going to Europe once or twice a year (among other continents, I of course expanded my horizons), and never visited the coast of Amalfi, then it became even more a dream, and not just a regular size one, but a humongously gigantic dream, a goal and a worth working for it one.

Now I write this lines in a beautiful terrace on top of the town of Amalfi (it´s more like a kinda bigger town than a small city, last night barefoot kids were running over the main street while smiling and shouting with enthusiasm, I guess they were playing, and city kids don't usually run without shoes in the main streets of their hometown cities), happy and feeling blessed to be here, the company is perfect, the weather it´s just right, super sunny the last three days and kinda of overcast and rainy today, giving me the opportunity to take a breath, seat in this privileged platform and retake this project of a blog (although I´m ok with it because I know the next two days are sunny and warm again). I can pour my bloody and  overgrown  heart in words of admiration for this place, whatever I have dreamed about here was surpassed by the actual experience of being here, all expectations covered, super scrumptious food, fabulous views left and right, awesome new experiences (I drove a boat for the first time, no supervision, twice, two hours every time), cristal clear turquoise waters where you swim as if in a swimming pool (although I haven't been able to conquer my fear of sharks I did swim for like 10 minutes and that´s something), perfect stary nights where you can totally (but like TOTALLY) see the milky way... and then play Under the Milky Way Tonight by the Church with your love by the side, this place it´s just magical.

Drops of water fall over the roofed pergola and it´s loud, it rains even harder now, I turn up the volume and play the church again, that track sets the perfect mood even during the day in this place.

Dreams come true, I know I am into this 11:11 thing and I embrace it with love and a big smile, all of it it´s true, at least for me. I once wished I could come here and live everything I am living right at this moment, it came true, ergo, dreams come true, as simple as that, I stay where I want to stay and tomorrow I´m heading to Le Sirenuse, the jewel that will crown this trip, and that´s like three days prior its end, so I know there´s even more to come. I am blessed, we are blessed, I say that with my writer friend (we are so close and so sharp when we are together... LOL), we say it like a joke but we mean it, 100%, I am blessed to be here and to see what I´ve seen, what I see and what I´m going to see (I was gonna say "gonna" but it seemed more appropriate "going to" to press more power and drama to the phrase).

I will tell you more about Le Sirenuse in Positano, you can check it out in my Tripadvisor profile, I am such a contributor there, I love to review stuff, and places are perfect to review, I´m usually very light hearted to score places, but I´m also blunt and brutally honest when it comes to say that a place is shit, Tripadvisor is for us (us) travelers and I would never betray the trust that´s been placed in me, this is no game, right?

Did I ever told you about the time I shared bathroom with Gael García Bernal in a hostel in Madrid? With open showers and all

When I was little, I always thought of Paris as a dream, very Disneyland like, having in mind that I visited the Disneyland park in Anaheim, California when I was 3 years old for the first time, and the images I had in my mind years later, were like steels of me enjoying, smiling, surrounded by castles, gardens, super clean streets and stuff. I always dreamed of flying to Paris and thought it was going to be, if not exactly like that, at least similar in spirit, everything like in the movies.

I have already mentioned that I have been lucky enough to have travelled around the world since I was a teenager, my sister and I without parents but with their full support (in every way). The first time in Europe was kind of delayed because Egypt and the Middle East in general got into our way and we left for almost six weeks to an unexpected adventure to a place didn´t even crossed our minds we were going to visit (and connect with as strongly as we did). After these unrepeatable first weeks in the Middle East a nonstop flight to Paris from Cairo was the beginning of a very anticipated french experience.

My first impression was good, I have always had the capacity to see beauty no matter the circumstances, always keeping realistic expectations but being the dreamer I am. The city welcomed us cloudy, humid and warm, kinda grey and a little dirty, as I have mentioned before, dog shit all over town but wearing a dignity with no rivals, like an old french actress from the 50s and 60s, think of Catherine Deneuve today, wrinkled but still beautiful and more elegant than ever. The opera wasn´t till renewed by the time and many façades were cover with scaffoldings and under restoration.

The maintenance of the city was fine, food as well, all ever heard and even better than that, croissants, pastries, cheese, everything was great, the only detail was the language, parisians in general weren´t very fond of the americans at the time, and I was living in San Diego, California with my family then and even I was carrying a mexican passport, that would make me american-ish, ergo they were´t very fond of us either.

Every time I tried to communicate I would mumble something nasal like french and they would be like "Quoi!!!???", then I would ask if they´d speak english and they were like "No english, espagnol!!", I would start speaking spanish and they would be like "No idea… desolé" and there we were, trying to survive in a place we loved but we kinda also hated.

Service in France is not the best, waiters are payed well by the hour and they just have to limit themselves to put whatever you managed to order in the table and that´s it, if you ask for anything in particular that´s extra, like salt, pepper or onion, you better start eating and say good bye to whatever you ordered extra, they would appear for a polite "is everything ok?" and then to deliver "L´addition", the bill, expecting no tip, people don´t usually tip in Paris or France.

The point of the story is, the first time I came to Paris I left 3 or 4 days earlier than what we planned to the-ever-friendly capital of Spain, Madrid with the Tintos de Verano in the sidewalks. We left loving the city and hating the people, nobody wanted to speak to us and the attitude of the parisians was awful, especially for three teenagers traveling here for the first time (a great friend of my sister and I was doing the trip with us). I personally kinda promised to myself I wasn't coming back… but my competitive personality had second thoughts, and as soon as I was back home, I got into french lessons and decided I was going back a year after, only this time speaking french and making myself clear around town. After that, I kept studying french while I studied architecture, the whole 5 years, and always returned to Paris, at least once a year to practice all that I´ve learned along the year.

Today I got myself into french lessons again, for the first time in Paris, at La Sorbonne, they asked me why I wanted to keep studying french and I told the story again after many years, realizing how much in love I am now with the city I thought I hated the first time, how much I love the language I could´t articulate at the beginning of my affair with Paris. Now that I´m here I walk the streets and go to the bakery almost every day and understand what is to be where once I dreamed to live, like a dream you don´t really think you will accomplish, but that turns into the most amazing surprise and a great omen for the other places I have wished to live, a couple more and both of them by the beach and California.

When I make a wish, it´s not like I say what I want just in case. When I make a wish I make it with the certainty that it is greatly probable that it will come true and smile, and then I thank because in my mind that wish it´s already true and on its way.

Did I ever told you about the time I shared bathroom with Gael García Bernal in a hostel in Madrid? With open showers and all. I will tell you tomorrow, happened in the same trip right after Paris.

When a potential Horror Movie Story collides with one´s real life

This weekend has been a pretty loose one, in a good way, taking things easy and disconnecting from everything in general. Fitness activities were privileged; a collective session of many different cardio activities sponsored by an important sports brand, everything took place in one of the most iconical buildings in the City of Light, Le Grand Palais, by the Seine and on for more than four hours, started at dusk and finished when the 5000 assistants were about to drop dead, not that far, but at 10 pm during the winter in a "nonexistent heater" hangar size structure, covered in glass, the temperature tends to low fast. After a long session we all were done and Cambodian Food near the Opera Garnier was the best closure for a very active day.

By this time, I have to drop the third person writing and tell one of my stories.

Not too long, I ran a whole marathon in Los Angeles, my first one, after a few half marathons I felt ready and close to home it felt safe (I grew up in San Diego and southern California is home), the forecast in general was good, I was already well trained and my best super friend and brother Jorge would escort me along the way, stopping every two or three miles to encourage me (he driving my car). By that time, Jorge lived in this awesome apartment complex in Irvine, California, not to far from Newport Beach (place I love very much). I got to his place in saturday morning, we spent the evening hanging out together around the area and we left not to late in the afternoon and headed our ways to Downtown L.A. We got there, and since the marathon would start at the Dodger´s Stadium, we decided for a hotel not far but still in the area.

The chosen hotel was convenient for many reasons, super inexpensive, well located, a historic piece of edification and it looked pretty awesome in the pictures at booking.com, so we went for it. The check in was fine, the hotel seemed older in person, like always, but nothing more than the expected. The area was from so-so to OK, so, for a night stay for a couple of friends that wasn´t important, we were there to go to bed early, a long run of a bit more than 26 miles awaited the after´s morning.

To be honest, the place gave the creeps as one would get in, very The Shining like energy, recently renovated, but with the old vibe that stays and never leaves of "things" that probably happened there, for my benefit, ignorance was bliss and we stayed there, in a very tall room with back side view, not knowing what I will detail next.

Much to my surprise, the shower was inside but the toilettes were communal, that wasn´t pointed out at the website, then again, we are pretty laid-back, no prob there. another confession, when I had to go to the toilette I had to do it on my own and long (very The Shinning like again) hallways and turns were to be walked before getting there, but I was with my very straight brother-like best friend, and I wasn´t gonna ask him to escort me, although I did and he refused, so I went on my own and came back running like crazy.

The next day we woke up at 6 am and headed to the stadium, the crowd was growing by the minute, the skies were cloudy and the morning was crispy but OK. Then the time to start the run arrived and down came the rain… more like a drizzle, that became a soft rain that turned into a horrible storm that lasted for the 4 hours and 30 minutes my ran took, a bit more than I expected, although taking the wild conditions, the freezing temperature, the fact that we were running in 4 inches of cold water at many points and that the radiation from the Fukushima Nuclear Plant was expected to arrive that same day with that same rain into count, I think I did pretty well.

At the end I´m here, proud of my medal and always love the times when my friend Jorge and I get to do brotherly activities together, that make men bond (doesn´t matter if one´s gay and the other one straight) and bonding and building memories with my brother makes a happy day.

Today, I was browsing pages and ran into a very interesting one, Top 10 real horror stories that would make a great movie, immediately got into it and by number 3 I was more than hooked, I was reading and simultaneously looking for further information about the story I was reading in other tabs; number 3 was the story of Elisa Lam, a Vancouver 21 old girl who was vacationing in L.A. in january 2013 and was captured in video in one of the elevators behaving in a strange manner, she was never to be seen again after that video and was found, unexplainably, in one of the sealed water tanks in the rooftop of the hotel she was staying two weeks later, because some of the guests complained for the "funny" taste and color of the water coming out of the faucets and showers.

Since I was completely captured by the whole thing and nothing seemed to make sense, I went further and inquired into the subject, ending up in google maps looking for the address, but to my surprise and agains my secret wishes, the hotel where everything happened was nonetheless the one Jorge and I stayed, and the creeps it gave us when we got in were not just us being afraid of nothing, the place has been the house of two serial killers, one of them kept the bodies inside; also, countless suicides have taken place since it was built in the 1920s.

Today´s post is about how clever we really are. The building it´s fairly beautiful, lives through it´s age and style and wears a good amount of dignity; the lobby is impressive and it is clear it has been recently renovated. We are clever because as we got in, the vibe the place gave made us feel uncomfortable and despite that we kept going (we weren´t that clever there), had a good night sleep and wrapped it up for the stay very early the next morning, harmless and in one piece.

Now knowing that I stayed in that place, make me feel the creeps even more. I have been more than overwhelmed, a bit scared and a big deal relieved, got goosebumps a few times and couldn´t stop thinking about the fact that I probably took the elevator where she was seen for the last time by a surveillance camera a few months later.

For more in that story and to see the video, click in this link and see how it makes you feel.

http://vigilantcitizen.com/vigilantreport/mysterious-case-elisa-lam/

Looking… In third person and the love for music and memories

One usually plays music to create an ideal atmosphere for anything in special and everything in particular. It´s not hard to choose the selection, in this world plagued with different styles and artists, the proposals are countless, and the options as varied as the heads in a major metropolis. Of course the favorites are usually favored, in this case the selection started with Empire of the Sun, Ice on the Dune the album, the first track skipped to get to the point a few minutes prior and whatever was in mind, that by that time felt imminent, suddenly fades to the coast of California in Newport Beach, blue sky with some clouds and a sun that feels like silk in the middle of the day, and that tastes like ambrosia when in the middle of winter in Paris at dusk.

The occasions where a sound records in one´s head like a tattoo in the skin are not plenty. Empire of the Sun is about Orange County, not about Australia or Coachella, the first accords of the band where played loud as the door opened in the best friend´s apartment, the roommate (now one of the very special friends) with flawless taste did not hesitate in press play and pump up the volume, the music was worth every risk of being deft when very old; the basic memory: getting in, stopping for recognition of the voice, the tone and the electronic effects and other instruments, nothing like this before, the best gift of that weekend, getting to have one more favorite band or artist that would put inspiration in motion. All of Empire of the Sun is worth loving, the memories are specially triggered by We Are The People, with a vision of white african-like tents lighten low from the inside, the twelve of them scattered in a Vineyard in Ensenada in the middle of the night, 1 am, out loud and the main wooden structure that serves as dining area and common place brings life to the darkness that embraces, it is the hotel Cuatro Cuatros and one gets goosebumps; DNA from the second album brings California to mind, not because it was listened there the first time, but because the sound will always refer to there, near the Pacific Highway, very close to the water and where the sun feels like silk in the middle of the day.

After Queer As Folk folded up its last season, many members of the gay community felt a little orphan, I would call it that, not that the show had a motherly spirit whatsoever, but it was nice to see ourselves projected, even though it was pretty surreal at times, but at the end it was very aspirational for many, served as an introductory televised course into homosexuality for some, caricaturized for some opinions (it was crazy sometimes how Brian Kinney was this one sided bitch addicted to sex with barely legals, fighting to hide his feeling at any cost) but it entertained us for good five seasons.

The 19th of january was the first aired episode of HBO´s original series Looking, a gay themed series with Jonathan Groff (Glee), Frankie J. Alvarez and Murray Bartlett (you may remember this beautiful show dealer Oliver Spencer in Sex & The City, one episode character, but handsome and charming enough to me remembered) in charge of the main characters. Episode 1 felt OK, weird but OK, like a first date with an anticipated person that has been promised to be with you since months ago. General critics were good, for the viewers (the opinion of a selected group of "conoceurs" in the subject was taken in count) the episode felt like a good approach but a rough scratch in the surface of the characters. In general the time was perceived as short and the proposal like breve, but all in all it was a good launch to a new series, it let the audience wanting to know more.

Three episodes in (episode 3 "Looking into your browser history" will air the 1st of february 2014) and things are getting interesting. Patrick (played by Jonathan Groff) does not look like a dumb insecure and provincial little boy abducted from an all boys school in the mid 80s, insecurities and will to succeed enter the scene and he doesn´t look just khaki with a shirt of squares; The life of Agustin (Frankie J. Alvares) suffers an existential set back and a major change that puts his artistic talent and his restlessness in motion; and Dom (Murray Bartlett) gets the courage to take the steps he has been postponing, by having an acquaintance from the past eating in his table and pushing the right buttons.

The veils of formality and perfection are falling as we get to know these men in San Francisco trying to make a living and fighting to have a life where everything seems in set, but where all is infected by holes and weak foundations; nothing is what it seems, in the words of Geri Halliwell, "what you see ain´t what you are getting", in a good way, writers show just enough to make viewers look forward for the next episode and let know that appearances are not what they seem to be.

In general the show feels real, the use of locations instead of scenography makes the film effect believable, while the make-up (or lack of it), make the characters approachable and far more relatable (in QAF, Brian Kinney had no pores or expression lines whatsoever and Michael Novotny no trace of fat in his body); it is good to show what the audience wants to become, although, showing who they really are in bone and flesh hits to the heart like one of Cupid´s arrows.

So far so good, new characters make appearance and this story, that felt like pizza dough in the first minutes on the air, starts to get spiced up, lets see what all this cooking turns into.

And the lottery winning numbers are...

This is the first time I have a blog, I really didn´t know how it was going to go and to be honest, I´m still trying to figure out what this whole thing is about. It certainly is a therapeutic act you know, decompress through words everything we have in mind, also, let know the world that you are thinking, I mean, we all are, right? some more than others, at the end I guess I did this because I wanted to put out in the universe my words, my lines, my phrases and all the silly and important (at least to me) things that crossed my mind. First inspired by a friend with a try specific purpose, I thought I was going to talk about the things I know, but less and less happen that, I´m starting to speak about the things I remember and the unknown as well, some of the ones I know, although I´m here to learn, in the blog and in life, I´m sure we can always do our best to know as much as possible, but we learn something new every day, tiny little lesson or a big deal.

I consider myself a very lucky guy, I always wish I´d win the lottery and suddenly become ultra rich, not to splurge in materialistic stuff, but more to help and to travel. What first comes to mind when I imagine I win, lets say, 50 million dollars, it´s a fund to start building dwelling for the homeless in the poorest areas, first starting in Mexico and then extending to the rest of the world, not just with my resources, but gathering as much as help and donations possible from others as fortunate as me (lets make as if I just won the lottery in this paragraph of curse). Then it is a great trip around the world. I have a cousin that teaches english and spanish, she´s really good at it, one of his students since long ago even speaks perfect mexican spanish with a bit of a Sinaloa accent, not that I´m saying that having a northern Mexico accent is cool, but it is great that she is so good at speaking spanish (thanks to her work as student, but also thanks to my cousin for her wonderful work as teacher) that she could easily pass by one mexican from a certain part of the country. Well, she is usually hired by a very luxurious Cruise company, she´s been lucky to be in those awesome ships to Alaska, South America, the Mediterranean and more. One time she told me about this cruise that leaves out of LA and travels around the world towards Asia all the way to London!! What about that? it is a 105 days trip, I know, a lot of tim, but I would definitely take my family and close friends to that trip, I would pay their debt first and see who can do it, for my grandparents I would else bring a doctor, not that they are sick or anything, they are perfect, I just want to make sure that they are covered in every way and feel relaxed about their health. So, this cruise leaves LA and goes to Hawaii, then Japan, China, South East Asia, India, Than the coast of Africa, you know, Zanzibar and Madagascar and stuff, then South Africa and afterwards all the way up to the other coast of Africa, the Canarias Isllands, Morocco, Portugal, Spain, France and at the end, good old London; what about a trip, right? obviously I would pay a good room with big windows and I would bring the two cats and the little bitch, and I would workout at least five times per week, I mean, this is a very fancy cruise, but they still have this All-You-Can-Eat modality in most of the restaurants, and I have a very sweet teeth, and I really like good food, so, I´d rather run and workout a lot and eat without guilt; I´d make my green shake at least four times a week, I like it, it´s not just that I take it to be thin and healthy, I actually like the favor and the way it makes me feel, I will post the recipe later in another post.

That´s what I would do, would´t splurge in super expensive possessions a lot, I rather invest in experiences, and make my entire family happy, including my grandparents, I love them so much and they would love that trip. 105 days to just relax and have a good time. 

I think we all dream of having this "Hit of fortune", however it presents, you know, lottery, unknown millionaire relative leaving everything to us or finding a treasure (this one demands more work, but I would also like it). Fortune works in so many ways, some times we don´t imagine how, but it could be saving us from an accident, that is the lottery of life, I think I have been lucky in that way, I´ve been afraid of some decease and I´m still here, healthy writing this lines and thanking the universe for keeping me in this world and have the things I need and wish (with measure, the lottery winning ticket will come soon enough to enjoy it and make the projects and dreams come true), be in a place I´ve always wanted to live in, enjoying love, friends, pets, family, working out, sunrises and sunsets, beaches and also traveling. 

For all that I´m grateful. 

I will not write long today, I´ve checked and some posts have been pretty intense in terms of amount of words, and I don´d want to tire anybody that´s privileging me with the attention and time to pass an eye to the things I have to say… Not that I do not have a lot to say, but I will save it for tomorrow. 

In an Air France flight from LAX to Istanbul via Paris never too many years ago

So I liked to have a little control of everything so what! I remember when I was 15 and organizing the squared things (things, whatever I would posses) in 45º angle in relation to the drawing unit in my bedroom, and turning the volume up or down in multiples of 5, although multiples of 10 were preferable, but that was just too loud or too low for my ears, at the end I would have to compromise and have it in multiples of 5. I was a real mess back then, whatever I could control outside of my skin I would and I did. Then the therapy days arrived and everything was different and then having all catalogued around me didn´t seem to appealing anymore, I was busy organizing the mess I had in the attic and basement of my head.

There have been times in life when I thought everything was done for good, once I was diagnosed with a tumor of the size of my fist (I have a big fist), it was growing inside me and then everything seemed so fragile, I went back home and afterwards to school and kept studying and acting as if nothing was happening, although it was, but I got over that, one tumor down and I was released from treatment, although I get regular check ups every year now. Then there was this time when I was pleasantly flying to Istanbul from LAX via Charles de Gaulle and the plane started to shake up bad, and then more bad, and then worse and after a while we were praying for our lives, emergency exits ready to pop up an all; I started calming down my sister by reassuring her that everything was Ok and that it was completely normal, but after more than an hour of being in a blender one of the stewardesses passed by our row pale as a raw flour tortilla and with watery eyes and it was then when I got scared, I will not elaborate more, but a started reassuring my sister that she had an amazing life to that point, she had travelled around the world (even though she was super young), she had had sex, she had loved, she had had a beautiful life and that´s it, everything got worse than five minutes before, we were kind of out of control for a little while and it felt like centuries, but at some point everything stopped, the pilots gained control of the craft and ten minutes later we were landing safe at Istanbul´s airport. I was never more happy to be stepping feet over ground, I was in an exotic place (it was to me) I had always dreamed of and was ready to start living again, all the passengers screaming and crying in the plane got me very tired, but I was loving every minute of my life since then.

I can not say that I had a near-death experience whatsoever, nevertheless those two events have sculpted a part of who I am now, I did not see any light at the end of a tunnel, yet I know what it is to fear a disastrous tragic accident or a long painful agony, just the fear of them makes something shift inside one´s body, it affects the mind, the heart and the entire body, your whole system resets and even though one acts as if it wash´t a big thing, life starts to slow down and makes everything around infinitely more appreciative, every day the sun comes up is a present one´s very happy to receive.

There are occasions when I forget that, just because some driver in front of me takes longer to press gas in a green light I get angry, I keep in that mood for another few minutes and I may even say something hurtful to somebody I care about around me just to decompress; afterwards I stop, take a breath and see how minuscule and microscopic this is in comparison, I relax and thank that I get mad at small things sometimes and forget what I have experienced, I try to recover, say sorry and move on, recovering memory of what I´ve been through.

I don´t say that everything has to be measured by that scale, the scale of death I mean, because at the end it hash´t happened to me yet, I obviously would´t be here if that would had happened, but it puts things in perspective and makes you appreciate more, not just life and rain and rainbows and unicorns and little kitties and bunnies and stuff, but the silly little things as well. Once I said to a special person that was distressing because of a solvable thing that as for me, I start from the place where I have nothing, nothing belongs to me, not even the material properties I have payed for, and from then on, whatever comes is a great gift, an unexpected bonus from life, then we smiled and looked for a way to solve things out.

I´m not saying that one should accept a smack in the mouth and then offer one of the chicks for the next one either, I could not hang on to that not even once. I say one has to fight for justice as to fight for life, I have always been a pretty healthy guy, I smoked cigarettes for a few years, but not for long and I donut do it now of course, but I have never done drugs (not that I think they are wrong, they are not just for me) and I barely drink, as soon as I knew a tumor was inside me I started drinking green tea like crazy and eating almost exclusively greens and making this green shake I still have for breakfast four or five times per week. One has to stand for oneself, it is also bad karma if you allow other people abuse of you, your work or anything that´s related to you making you feel taken advantage of, one has to speak and accuse if necessary, yeah, someone may say "welcome to the kinder garden" but I really don´t care, if I don´t get my way at least I´m not going to let anyone abuse me or someone I love, it is not about abusing the potential abuser, it is about letting the abuser know you know that he knows that you know who the abuser is… basically… as tongue twister(ish) as it sounds. At the end is about you riding your machine at the gym placidly knowing you didn´t just let a stranger step over you, after that you keep going with your cardio session, then weight lifting and then some cardio to end and then home.

One does not need to be on the edge of death to wake up, but some of us need some help to get in perspective in life. I´m happy I passed through a rough time studying architecture, keeping great grades, developing the best projects, maintaining a relationship together and staying calmed, while having biopsies and tests, treatments and eventually surgery, and more treatment afterwards. I´m glad I took the plane to Istanbul, that turbulence didn´t just shake the plane, it shacked my brain as well, also my heart and certainly my will to enjoy every single minute of the rest of my life, as long or short it shall be.

Cooking Veggie lasagna and running with cherish ones

They say nothing beats the original, I think that applies in so many ways to the reason why we start doing things for us in the first place. Staying true to yourself is a draining endeavor nowadays, all these stimulation and different opinions making us doubt of our motives, making us question our purposes in life.

I wrote about friendship before, that is one true thing I appreciate the most, real friendship. After some years in the dark, some friends have reemerged at some points in time, some of them fade out to blacks in slow motion, almost frame by frame, so slow you are actually aware of what is going on and you stop and feel it, I realized that with some and even then I let it happened. At a point in my life reaching my big 3 0 I started to ask for all the shallow people to move away from the premises of my existence, at first I was hesitant, I would say it convinced but quietly, I got my petition stronger every time, till I actually demanded the unnecessary "friends" to just disappear instantly… And they did, a lot of people I thought to be family suddenly just weren´t there anymore and I thanked for that.

Today I am grateful because mirages of brothers and sisters have left, now friendship is even more valuable to me, life has taught me that I need to see beyond appearances, and sometimes what it seems like a real connection, it´s just a small coalition of souls saying hello on their way to wherever they may go, it is not a bad thing or a good thing, it is just the fortune we have to learn about us and about what we shall and shall not be or do.

Staying true to one´s self is hard but it is priceless to remember what we came to the world for or what we think it is our purpose in life. I know I´m here for the enjoyment of living, to learn through great positive surprises and hard awful recoveries, I have, at times, completely forgotten of who I am and when light strikes like a flipflop thrown by the universe in my face, like a "verdadero chanclaso", I have nothing else but to stop and regroup and start over if necessary… Fortunately that hasn´t been needed too often, only once or twice, I know I have the hability of reinventing myself, but I´m not Madonna and I have to stick to some members of my family… Luckily I mean… For me I mean… although for them as well, I can be a true sunshine when I put my heart to it.

I started a career and I knew it wasn´t my last one but I successfully finished it anyway, being true to myself is acknowledging that I´m a nerd and that I like good grades and feeling relax about the end of the semester, and end things after all; then as I finished I restarted the one would make the "spine" of my working days, and I love it. At some points I thought I was a communist trapped in the body of a almost 20 years old blondish gay guy that loved beautiful things; sometimes I thought I was  a shallow little prick that was meant to be the bad in the story; Other times I thought I was crazy and that everything was caused by an error in the Matrix, now at the end I still walk my path sure of what I like and, although I´m all of the above, I´m also so many things more, and I´m still discovering more angles of me that I didn´t know I had.

All the friends that have left teached me a lesson because of their departure, I may have also detoured my route because of me wanting to walk along with them… Because it was so much fun and because it felt right at the moment. All the lessons learned are kept in the heart and mind and all of the ones that left make the ones that are still in my life even more precious, those that I run with, those that I travel with, those that I plan on biking with, all those that I cook veggie lasagna for (or any dish for that matter), those that I listen to music with, those that I dork with endlessly in person, by phone or chat… all those I feel so fortunate to have and when I set in my status that I´m "Grateful" it is in part because they are part of my existence in this planet.

In the road we are and we bump into each other for a short amount of time or for longer periods. For all the real friends, for all the not so real ones, for the casual acquaintances, for the family and the wonderful surprises I have had on the way I´m grateful, I do not regret stepping into anyone´s life and I certainly have loved every single lesson I had from anyone stepping into mine. From this very moment, in this very seat, under this very light, I have the certainty that I have no idea where I will be in a year from now, and I don´t care. What I know is that I will keep building up myself in all possible ways, trying to keep my mind clear and my wheel on track, I will have fun on the way, but I hope I am at the end of all in a year and forever happily surprised.

I´m ready for my close-up Mr. Demille

Not too far ago (I like to think that way, time is relative after all, right?), I finished studying communication and then started to work in the PR division of the Baja California State´s governor, while working I studied Cinema Production, just because I love cinema and because, I hope, my wish to learn is endless, especially about whatever fills my heart and make my mind work. And the one day I remembered how much I loved to be an architect when I was a child, and then I had to come out of the architecture closet, I wanted to start all over again, not an easy scenario when one´s starting to become independent and also starting to give your pampering parents a breath. Well I did, I told my parents that I wanted to be an architect and they were as loving and supportive as a son could hope, till now I´m infinitely grateful with them for supporting my "change" of career.

After a few months I took of to a place I could feel safe, far enough to be free, but close enough to be able to go at least once a month; "two hours by plane at least" I said, that way my mileage club would reward me enough to be a gold member and I would be forced to stay in focus about not just school, but also about living on my own, cleaning up, running errands, doing laundry, buying groceries and keeping my newly embraced "independence" up to date, all this while becoming an architect, meaning, drawing till next morning, developing projects, writing essays, building models and trying to be the best student possible, I would´t let my parents down for nothing in the world.

Today I read an article about the way a TV show influences one´s expectations, and made me think about the time I got to Architecture School for the first time, and when I moved to a different city and then a show in Showtime started, Queer As Folk, the American/Canadian version, the english one I have to confess I found kind of dark and far from my life in San Diego, although by the time, I had been to Canal Street and Manchester´s gay village in several occasions. All friday nights they would play a new episode, I would love to see two of my closest friends, Marco, Raúl and sometimes Juan Carlos, and we would gather for pizza and salad in this really good place not far from my place, listening to great music and just letting ourselves turn twenty and a couple more while having fun, waiting for the midnight show that, according to mod reviews, was fun and witty, as it was kind of porn and disrupting, my kind of show of course, all those thing I was and I want to think I still am: fun, witty, porn and sometimes disrupting.

I guess the show, Queer As Folk, had the same effect in gay guys that Sex And The City had in girls… and gay guys; in a group of friends one would be the projection of a certain show character and so on, just like in SATC, I remember in one of my trips to New York City, my friend Marina told me that there were a legion of four-gals groups all over town, hanging out in restaurants, bars, clubs and stores acting up like Samantha, Carrie, Charlotte and Miranda, the old clever always-on-Perricone-diet sex addict, the smart undecided I-get´money-from-I-dunno-where shopoholic smoker, the fancy pants insecure prude and the I-secretely-like-to-scissor-other.girls over worked redhead, obviously always trying to keep their personalities… I hope. Well, the same happened with guys, in both cases, there was a Brian for a Samantha, a Ted for a Miranda, a Michael for a Carrie and a Lindsay for a Charlotte, you know well mannered and trying to get a family together before she´s too old; Emmett was another story and I´m for that, he was the cayenne pepper that spiced up the whole thing, or as we would say in spanish "el ajonjolí de todos los moles", meaning, the sesame seed of all the Moles (traditional mexican dish made with chocolate, dried ancho peppers and almonds, among other ingredients), if that makes any sense.

Well, there we were, four guys talking and trying to make sense of being single, only Marco had a committed relationship, the rest of the three were out in the market, feeling happy, but at the same time overwhelmed. I don´t think we were pretending to be ay of the QAF characters, even less the SATC characters, we certainly could have filled all profiles at some points, but in real life real people have more sides than just sex addict, confused, moralist and workaholic, or flamboyant, sometimes we were always all of them separated and in very special disastrous occasions all of them together. And at the end I was doing a friday thing with my friends and watching a show that was about friendship, about guys that likes guys, and girls hat liked girls, and everything around them. Never felt like any of the characters in either show, but loved them both and certainly made me enjoy fiction in TV.

I think TV shows and media in general have a very influential presence in teenagers, well, it did before, now it´s more like video games or manga, or I don´t know what else. But for me life still feels like a TV show, in times a Lifetime Channel tearful drama and some other times like a very funny sitcom. I´m now in the season where I move to Paris and start to have experiences, like stepping in shit every seven feet, tasting Mille Feille, and getting to see the Eiffel Tower and the Sacre Coeur on the daily basis, not so much going to Dior Homme or keep the days wearing the last from the runways, not there yet, I will let you know when I´m vintage YSL and Valentino head to toe.

At the end what comes to mind when thinking about being today where I am and being who I am, is the time when a very close friend was fired from the job he was so safe at, installed completely in the comfort zone being kind of afraid of the unknown, but forced to turnaround his life and surprised by the fact that he had an almost dream job offered afterwards in the place he always wanted, settling a nice pay after the firing and feeling happier and safer today; when all that happened I thought we all always have surprises in store, and either we look for them like easter eggs or are forced to have them smashed in our faces, I felt that everything is like a movie, the movie of life, when you need to shoot a part that feels uncomfortable but that will lead you to prizes and nominations, I remember I felt and still feel intoxicated by happiness of being able to accept what it comes, there are always beginnings and ends, change of setting and wardrobe,  like Sunset Boulevard when the main character is lost in her mind and says "I´m ready for my close-up Mr. Demille…".

Detoxing in Marie Antoinette´s lands or Let them eat cake but make them burn it in the treadmill after

Since I was a child I have been very aware of what I eat and taste. Generally it is about enjoying it too much, I mean, the things I like the most, the flavors make the world a better place. Till I was entering puberty the weight issue was more or less under control, but all of a sudden I started to get thicker and thicker and at some point in my teenage years I was actually kind of fat, not obese whatsoever of course, only thicker that necessary and certainly more than the acceptable for a gay guy turning 15 in the mid 1990s. Fortunately for me, I got to a point after turning my sweet 16 that I spontaneously started to diet and working out, and by the time I was about to 17 and a half I was actually to thin and ready for the dating scene.

The very first boyfriend I had was six years older than me, handsome, ghostly white skin, very fit (his six pack was a sexy thing to contemplate), kind of geeky (on a very attractive way) and extremely jealous of my very straight best friend (a few months younger than me and whom I have always considered my brother since we were 14). He was the first guy I dated in my new shape, we were together for a few months and then I took off to live the rest of my life, we enjoyed each other very much, although I have to confess I was not ready for the commitment he was demanding from me and I was eager to learn even more. After him, I started to travel around the world and absorb as much as possible and keep the lessons well engraved, so I would´t make a mistake more than once… sometimes twice. But the flavors and the hunger for new places, new people and new food has never stopped; here I am now, on a sunday night chronicling disperse stories and turning them into an intelligible whole, after spending an amazing day in the city that has recently embraced me as my home, Paris, France; after having a lavish brunch in a newly found restaurant but with not so much of a boundary about the amount of food; after taking a break and grabbing a bag with stuff and flying to the gym to make up for all the excessive calories ingested, surrounded by beautiful colorful walls and very elaborate wooden framed mirrors, cushioned by old red velvet and waitered by very well mannered "garçons" that speak kind and smile while bringing a very well done burger (no mayo). Now I´m surrounded by beauty and bakery shops with the most amazing variety of breads and pastries, decided to make monday detox day, did it last monday I´m ready to do it tomorrow and I hope my will keeps me hanging on in this purpose and in my, almost daily, commutes to the Gym.

What is this detox about? luckily is a One Day only thing, intense because there´s nothing allowed but vegetables and some fruits to make it a little sweeter and less torturing, but nothing to complain about here really, one day of vegetable shakes and green tea, chamomile and water, really make you feel good the day after, the sacrifice it´s worth it… But I will keep my sexy little tush in the apartment, I don´t know how strong I am for real, there are like 5 pastry shops, countless bakeries, and for Christ sake! This is Paris, there are crepe shops like shit on the sidewalks (that´s not a legend, these frenchies are responsible enough to take their charming canine friends out for walks, but they also are careless pricks with no will to pick up the little pooches tiny mountains of crap, although there are more and more owners starting to bend to pick up doggy shit), don´t want to see if I can fight my crave for croissants or Pain au Chocolate, I really want to feel like I lost a couple of pounds of toxins and I´m two months younger and I have two more day to live… Out of the programmed schedule I mean.

Working out is another story, I love it, while I´m already there, bringing myself to arrive it´s harder than lifting my weight in four series of twelve repetitions and then on again, only the opposite way; but once you´re there you know you were meant to pamper your body with a little sweat and a little effort and then the sauna to sweat and burn more calories and relax after the session. It is hard, I must say the very first times I started to workout while a teenager, it was a bizarre experience, one I didn´t know where to catalogue in my life and brain, the body aches after the first sessions was unknown till then, it is not as if a professional switches training program and feels like having worked some new muscle in the body, no, this is more like a I-have-been-tortured-and-I-have-no-idea-what-happened-but-yes-I-know-and-I-let-myself-fall-in-slow-motion-in-the-fluffly-family-room-couch-and-a-tear-slides-through-my-cheek-then-I-sob-and-ask-myself-again-why kind of feeling, but there I am, hanging on to the will of being healthy and, some times, especially when the summer is just weeks away, because I need to change my DNA information and look better than I usually do.

Will tell you how the Monday Detox went, it is mostly green stuff and lost of will to keep the health sometimes we take for granted. Stay beautiful.

Therapy… A plein soleil

Many things are happening around the planet right as I write, and by the time someone lays eyes in this lines a million others are going to be already part of history, the world seems to get faster by the second, and at first a thought it was due to growing up (and growing a bit old), my perception of time it´s [of course]completely different than when I was a child, days seemed endless then, and a year or two were, literally, a lifetime. Today I´m starting to reconnect with the world, and it is not that I have unplugged myself from technology, just the opposite, it is just that I have recently started to watch the news, current affairs that a few months ago were just stories somebody would comment in a table are now images that hit my head and ears and certainly smash my brain. 

I should start explain why I stopped watching news on the first place, however, for that, just like always, I have to go a bit behind, to build a proper foundation for my story; I´m an architect, and not just that, I studied in a Technological Institute, surrounded by engineers, imagine how important structure is for my fellow colleagues that graduated from the same school. 

The first time I went to therapy was at around 17 years old, that I remember, I think I went as a preschooler, I was a diagnosed hyperactive child, so, I needed to channel energy and also look out for peace I guess, and my parents did their part and took me there, to play with wooden toys and to start building structures, to structure my mind and thus, my life. But the meaningful sessions were at 17, 18, and 19, she was a psychiatrist, not that I was out of control or anything, none of that, it was just that she was recommended and happened to be a therapist that studied psychiatry, I think it was better, she knew a lot more and she never recommended any medication, I mean, I was already taking one since I was like 6, do the math, and I stopped taking it till I was 27, when the doctor said, "OK, from here it´s up to you. Do yoga, run, workout, burn all the energy you need so you can have a good night sleep", and I did, today I´m training for another half marathon in a couple of months and plan to run the Berlin Marathon this year.

My therapy started because I was confused, the first thing that the doctor said was, "this therapy is to help you through whatever you are feeling and don´t know how to deal with. This is just a tool, not a remedy, and if you are gay you will leave this sessions happy and satisfied with yourself, if not, exactly the same. The point is to help you feel sure about whatever you are feeling unsure about", it sounded good for me, and it was, I left that period of therapy with the gay issue completely solved and I was ready to move on to different and more twisted matter, like commitment and the cocooned and indifferent attitude I sometimes had towards some people I knew and were important to me; I´m different know, but at some point I would have adviced you to store anything you needed to keep cold, you know, like a turkey for thanksgiving or a bottle of vodka, in my frozen soul. Really, I know there is a legion of skeptical people about therapy, but for me did wonders.

Along life I have had other therapists in the places I have resided, different "schools" and methodologies, confrontational was harsh, it would rub all my shit right on the face and then the therapist would laugh and would say something like "Ándele que bueno por culero!", kick me when already in the floor (emotionally talking) and then would lift me up, clean me up, help me compose myself and give me a free session of acupuncture, those were the days.

Then I was also with this other therapist that was a sweetheart, jewish, like a mother figure (starting wrong I know), and she would help me deal with the death of my little brother, that happened when I was 6 years old, but that kept buried under tons of really unnecessary topics, al, of them I fortunately melted away in the previous periods of therapy, so, when I arrived to my first appointment I decided I was going to deal with that first, because it was already there, out in the air, nothing to cover it up, and I did, cried my heart out the first sessions, but know I smile every time I think of him, in a healthy loving brotherly way. That issue solved I passed to more dark stuff, that I also got over with.

It was with this therapist that I address one subject that would hurt, not being able to help the entire world, not on a I-Am-Miss-Universe-and-I-Want-Peace-On-Earth sort of way, more like Oh-My-God-I-Live-In-A-Place-Where-Misery-And-Wealth-Cohabit-Shoulder-To-Shoulder-And-I-End-Up-Cashless-Because-I-Give-It-To-All-The-Poor-Kids-That-Come-To-Me-And-Ask-For-Money-To-Eat sort of way. I will not enter in details, I just will say she was pretty helpful, and although I still think there is a huge lack of justice and an awful distribution of wealth in the world, I´m in peace with the roll I need to play in the wheel of fortune of life, being fair with others, but especially with me and who I am in the world. The problem was that every time, after watching the news I would have this knot in my stomach and I would be choked with worry, now sick, but enough to turn my colorful days a bit sepia for the next hour, so she recommended me to stop watching news, reading newspapers (except for the cultural sections and the sunday comics) and getting overwhelmed by the repetition of news on the news channels (after a day of having the same channel on as background music you end up exhausted for the four tragedies they completely massacred into your psyche the last 10 hours). So I did, no news at all, I would read Vanity Fair and Dwell Magazine, and of course I would know about the most important international issues, like hurricanes and earthquakes, but I would not bother with Silvio Berlusconi´s affair with a 17 year old girl, that proceeded into his divorced with a huge millions of euros deal, and his incarcelation for fraud and manipulation of evidence and stuff, I rather read the whole story from the beginning to end, no suspense there, I would release myself from stress, I could only handle Dexter and Mad Men stress, the real one not so much. 

Now after years of ignoring political scandals and the imprisonment of movie stars, social personalities and known people in general I decided to come to the light, or the dark, I´m not quite sure yet, being aware of the mess that politicians, terrorists and other species have done with my planet, it´s just kind of sad, really there is no way to smooth the edges, I do my best to cope with the disaster of weather, poverty and diplomatic relations, I would not dare to give an opinion on that, and I have it, I do, but feels unsafe now with this horrible fact that there are eyes and ears everywhere, and just because some guy with glasses who shall not me named let everybody know about it doesn´t mean it stopped, it just means that we know and that that feeling of being observed wash´t just me crazy with delusions of persecution, it was that I was actually being observed, although I I have to confess that I am the tie that likes to be seen… Is that wrong?

I watch the news and I´m speechless, not only for the lack of air due to the impression, it is that I try to deal with it in silence, no suffering in my life just because someone else was dumb enough to let his or her´s dishonesty out in the sun, "A pleine soleil" like they say in France, or because some news company chose to cover it and made us feel like there was nothing else but that, and that this was our asteroid hitting the planet, an unfaithful president to his mistress with a younger actress was the end of the world. No huh, I rather keep my path, I know there are crumbles of what was an ideal life on earth here and there, but I decide to start building my life as beautiful, fair and colorful as possible, with the tools my parents gave me and the tools I paid for in therapy.