No me sale escribir

La mayoría de las veces escribir es tedioso. Uno intenta, y no sale nada. Que bodrio.

A veces, de vez en cuando, la escritura toma ritmo propio y empieza a fluir. El texto se ve hermoso, bien ordenado. Y la historia no está nada mal. Una maravilla. Hasta parece mentira que de la nada uno pueda crear algo tan bonito. Por un momento, la realidad no puede contener la satisfacción de sacar el escritor desde la piel hacia el texto.

Y es solamente eso. Un destello. Un petardito audaz que se desdibuja al momento.

De tanto tanto leer uno se imagina que va a aprender a escribir. Y si bien ayuda mucho, no es suficiente. No es lo mismo hacer que mirar hacer.

Alguien leerá esto?

Esa es mi manera de decir gracias!

Die Tabelle oben war in letzte "Welt am Sonntag" veröffentlicht. Die bezeichnet der Anteil der Männer der höchstens 8.5 Euro stündlich bekommen. Die Prozentangaben sind in Bereichen und auch geographisch getrennt.


Wortschatz:
Bezeichnen: to describe

Genus
der Anteil

Wie wird man am Geburstag begrüsst?

Die obenstehende Grafik zeigt in Prozentanteile wie wird man am Geburstag begrüsst. Es ist nicht überraschend zu sehen, dass fast ein Hälfte des Leutes benutzt die populäre Sozialnetzwerke Facebook um ihre Angelegenheiten einen schönen Geburstag zu wünschen. Dann kommt die nicht so berühmt Seite Xing, wo 21.7% des befragtes Leutes waren begrüsst. Mit 13.2% kommt dann Twitter.
Es ist bemerkbar, dass heutig Leute haben ein starkes Preferenz für elektronische mittel um zu Begrüssen. Die traditionelle Anruf ist selten benutzt, mit nur 7.6% Anteil. Letzendlich findet man nett, dass 3% des Leutes bekommen einen Brief am Geburstag.
Das Tortendiagramm war im Jahr 2009 in der Webseite www.nilsmaier.com veröfflentlicht.


Dauer: 22 Minuten.
Ohne Korrigierung.


Neue Wörter:
Eine Art Grafik, wo die verschiedene Prozentanteile werden in einer Kreis bezeigt. Sie sind das Tortendiagramm oder das Kreisdiagramm gennant.

Genera:

Leute: Es gibt kein Singular. Man kann auch mit das Volk oder der Mensch ersetzen.

Brief: Der Brief. Ich schreibe einen Brief.

Genus: Das Genus

A fragment about Wilhelm

I´ve realized that due to several reasons my attention spans seem to have gotten shorter and shorter over time.

Therefore, from now it is allowed to just insert small quotes and whatever I feel like.

For instance, the following fragment:

Have I told you about this guy Wilhelm? He was a weird guy. I first thought of him as only awkward. Then I heard from the girls he had acted somewhat misogynistic towards them.
I was checking his online political project. Something in the lines of "improving Democracy". It is not really user friendly so I guess I do not really understand the product. All I saw were banners where the guy keeps talking about a new democracy. Last activity is over a year ago.

Not really the person one wants to be around of.

He told me he had a wife a small girl aged around 6. Asian wife. I now think he was bullshitting. Who knows.

Give that face in the mirror a solid look

From now on, English becomes a fully official language at this blog.




I have some stuff to write on. They add up to some pieces of imaginery, which are portrayed best as they come to my head. And they come in English, so here we go!


Starting to write about a conversation starter. Or maybe how to fully become aware of your environment -I got this, they are two ways: Reach nirvana over decades of meditation, of just smoke a joint and forget about enlightenment.

No, we are not going to write about any of that. I like this. I enjoy this rambling. So here we go!

Hahaha. We are not, silly boy. Just lay back one more time like you have always done and do your thing. I just reread and I don´t like that.

Choices. That is a topic I enjoy to think about. Enjoyment, that is another one.

Making the best choice in a complex situation is very hard, it requires understanding the dynamic of a situation where there are just too many conjunctures and voids. It is necessary to be in understanding with the flow of the situation, the events and the people involved. Some problems will take fractions of a second to solve, and many more will take months and years to be sorted out.

For very fast paced situations, like what a paramedic or a fireman would face, the person must trust their instinct and training as well as their orders to face the situation. In those situations, training and an alert state of mind help reach the best solution.
In a complex system through time, even the most powerful actor does not decide the outcome of every situation.

I tried to write a solid piece about a subject, but tonight it is not working. Trying and failing was not as rewarding as writing whatever came out of the typing hands. It was fun to leave some records of my decaying train of though by small paragraphs that jump from one subject to the other - they make grammatical sense but are too vague and usually devoid of meaning.
A famous misquote from a movie said "You are not wrong, you are just rambling"

At this point it needs to be said. Over time, we go through great lenghts and we think we are headed in a definite direction. But are you powerful enough to reach there? Will you stand it? Do you have what it takes?

I am sleepy now thanks to the kindness of being.

La poda

Este joven hombre se levanta en el mejor de los mundos. Sin abrir los ojos, lleva su mano a su entrepierna. Sentir su pene caliente y duro le causa una sensación de bienestar.

Cierra los ojos y fantasea mientras recorre su pene con la mano. Se reconforta pensando en tetas, nubes de tetas por las que se desliza. Y salta en un buggy por unas montañas de nalgas, a pesar de que conoce lo peligrosa que es esta zona. Se arriesga, derrapa y sale disparado en el momento más peligroso, directo hacia el hueco del ano. Animado por su fantasía, comienza a masturbarse con más fuerza. 

Cuando el placer hace vibrar su cuerpo por oleadas y se siente cerca del orgasmo, aprieta la raíz de su pene con fuerza con una mano, a la vez que le da un fuerte cachetazo al pene erecto con la otra mano. El sonido seco -plaf!- y las palpitaciones y ardor en el pene cortan con la fantasía. Se ha acostumbrado a evitar eyacular cuando se masturba. No quiere limpiar, y no vale la pena desperdiciar el esperma.

El desánimo viene apenas un breve momento después, cuando el joven se da cuenta de que no hay ninguna razón que lo lleve a levantarse de la cama, que podría estar todo el día tirado allí, con la mano alrededor del pene, y que no cambiaría en nada. Lo desanima no tener trabajo, y no se imagina qué puede hacer con su tiempo. Pero escucha la voz de su madre, hablando sola en el comedor, y recuerda que le ha prometido ya hace tres día que iba a podar el liquidámbar del jardín, que le da demasiada sombra y no le deja crecer los tomates -ahora que estamos en temporada. Siempre hay algo para hacer en el jardín.

Podar es bien simple. La idea es imaginarte la forma que quieres que tenga la copa del árbol, y recortar todo aquello que sobresalga. Adicionalmente, tienes que tener un sentido de la armonía, para llevar al árbol a un crecimiento ordenado y bello. Pero esta vez había que tomar una decisión trascendental: Para evitar que el liquidámbar siguiera creciendo de un modo excesivo, debía cortar la punta de la rama guía. El joven lamentaba esto, ya que debía realizar una poda propia de madurez en un árbol que aún no había llegado a la adultez.

Esto le causaba pena al joven, porque este corte iba a determinar la altura del liquidámbar, y él sabía que ese árbol, mientras más alto se elevara, más bello iba a ser, y más contento iba a estar. Por eso venía evitando realizar la tarea, especulando sobre las distintas alternativas para mitigar el daño al árbol. Con el paso de los años le había agarrado cariño a ese árbol, a sus cambios según la estación -era un árbol coqueto, que se vestía de amarillo y rojo para seducir al comienzo del otoño, y se desnudaba para hacerse uno con el invierno, brotando cada año con más fuerza que antes.

Mientras se ponía su ropa de jardinería -un jean viejo y un buzo con capucha- reflexionaba que sus pensamientos en la cama últimamente terminaban en un ocio aburrido y en erotismo atrofiado por la soledad.

Se terminó de cambiar, y sin desayunar fue directo a preparar sus herramientas -total el mate se había hervido.  Preparó su motosierra poniéndole la mezcla de aceite y nafta, y en sus idas y venidas fue dejando a la sombra del árbol la escalera de aluminio, una cuerda, su tijera de poda. La navaja fue a parar al bolsillo.

El joven podía sentir las quejas del árbol cuando empezó a podar las ramas superiores. Más de una vez casi fue derribado por ramas que se movían inesperadamente, o que caían para el lado incorrecto. El árbol se estaba defendiendo. El joven pedía perdón, y le recordaba al árbol que ya había florecido, que su semilla se estaba esparciendo en este mismo momento por toda la zona, y que sus ramas tan altas le estaba sacando todo el sol a los tomates de su madre.

Los árboles son orgullosos, y se defienden hasta último momento. El joven lo sabía, y por eso siguió trabajando en silencio. Sólo se podía escuchar las revoluciones de la motosierra, y el ruido de las ramas al caer. El trabajo fue prolijo y de acuerdo a lo planeado.

Su madre lo recibió con una sonrisa cuando bajó, que contrastaba con la cara preocupada del joven. En silencio, se puso a guardar las herramientas. Se sentía culpable de limitar al árbol.
Una vez ordenado todo, miró los resultados de su trabajo. La poda había sido limpia -ni siquiera se podían detectar muchos de las ramas cortadas. El sol brillaba sobre el jardín nuevamente.

El joven reflexionó que el árbol estaba siendo egoísta, y que la poda era beneficiosa  para el jardín. El árbol, como parte del jardín, debía entender eso.

Gifts of nature

1.The gardener

There was a man who grew plants in his small garden as a hobby. As time passed, he grew more and more skilled at it, and the hobby that once started with one shaggy ficus found on the street continued to grow into a more complex collection, that featured many types of plants. Our man very soon realized that what is perfect for one plant is even deadly for another kind. After some mishaps, he started paying more attention to each plants´ requirements, in order to provide them with a decent living. Slowly, as seasons passed, he got used to interpreting the plants´ subtle signals so that he could tell exactly on which date his wild chrisantemums were going to bloom fully, or the right amount of water the cacti were needing for the following week. When asked, he defined this skill as "listening to the plants´ needs"

As you probably realize, the hobby proggesively took up more and more space in the mans´ home. He grew the plants out of his yard, on small pots and on the ground. Soon enough, he had more plants than what could fit in his small garden, and also on the bedroom, bathroom and balcony. He came to a breaking point, when he realized he could no longer shower because the giant potus that he was so fond of had taken over the shower. Sadly he realized the time had come, for him to start giving his very beloved collection away.


2.The garden talks

After a week of not taking a decent shower due to the plant, he was ready for the first giveaway. 

The first one he gave to his mother. A small shrub of gingko in a beautiful blue pot, a son of the oldest gingko tree in his city he had picked some years ago as a tiny sprout. At first he was very sad to give the teenager plant away. He had raised it and was attached to it. But then, as ha saw her mothers´ face smiling -or grinning as other people say-, he knew this was the correct thing to do.

Mothers tend to be motherly, so it was an overall safe bet to say the ginkgo would be taken care of. But what about the rest of the plants? He was very concerned that the plants would find a suitable owner. He thought about this issue long and hard, and came to the conclussion that good friends can also make for horrendous gardeners, and he did not want to send his plants somewhere not fit. While reflecting on what to do next, he spent a good deal of time every afternoon looking at each plant, feeling it, growing in unity with it. 

And a very important thing ocurred. Slowly he began to understand how simple the solution actually was. The plants were being very clear about their wishes every time. He only had to listen.
They usually said basic things, like "less water" "more sun". Paying more attention to the detail, the gardener increasingly started to pick up more complex messages, such as a whispery "I like you"  when he passed by, or the sudden change in energy that meant "Please take away the person that smokes next to me". He already knew the plants were very much alive, but he was surprised to realize how much they actually perceived from the sorroundings and reacted to it.

He reasoned, the plants know what is good for them,  so in order to find a suitable owner he he just needed to listen out in the very special way he had been developing. He realized talking to a plant makes little sense. Plants talk the language of nature, that has a pace of its own. Our man spent entire afternoons subtly blowing on the cactus, feeling the primitive big leafed bracken as it opens due to the sun, closing the eyes as the echeverias suck up the small delicious drops of water. Thanks to his patience, he could recreate the moves of the rose as it blossomed over the weeks. He actually got to develop some back and forth communication with his plants. He usually asked about news from the sorroundings, stories that the plants heard from the bees or the birds. The jade plant was actually one of the best storytellers he knew, as that was a branch of a very old plant that came with a family from Asia to Buenos Aires in the beginning of the 20th century. It was very wise and knew the languages of insects, of birds and of wind.

Sadly the overpopulation problem was getting rather critical as spring gave way to summer. Even if it meant disrupting his beloved garden, and he could already hear voices of despair, it was time to act. 


3.The time to give

One rainy day, he felt Nature was giving him permission to give away his plants. As he had planned, he was going to give them over to friends. But it was not that the friend could choose the plant, the plant had to choose them, as he had agreed with Nature herself. He had been explained that a plant given a as a gift can be a strong protection for the house and the people. So he invited people over, and waited on the plants to give a signal that they liked the person. Before giving each plant away, the man prayed so that the plants would remain safe, and in case of emergency they would come back to him.

After a while, his garden was manageable again. And every now and then, he heard new stories that the birds told the jade plant, about the baby willow that now overlooked a big garden where childrens played, about the blooming of the echeverrias, or the funny yet lovely relation between a lavender and a spunky aloe. The gardener realized that he had done correctly in letting go off the plants. They needed to fulfill their destiny, and the gardeners role, is only to propiciate it. Nature dislikes egoism.