How do you pick up the threads of an old life?

It's been almost two years since I came back from New York. And of those two years, I have only spent 5 months in my home. This is not my home anymore. I had missed my parents, and my family, and my friends, and the mountains these mountains . But by leaving, I set on myself a terrible burden, and a curse that will haunt me forever.
I am cursed to be split in two, longing for the life I lead when I was just the youngest of four children in Bogotá and longing to be in faraway places, with a different face and a different language, with no past behind me and a clean slate facing me.
During the time I was away, my friends came and went. People died, and got married, and had children. I lost track on so many people, so many friends that left my life. Two years that helped me grow and change so much, but forced me to be split in two. I love what I studied, what I did before. But I'm scared to walk down that path-what if I'm stuck in just one place? What if I end up becoming a wanderer? No home, no fixed compass pointing due north.
There is a high price to pay for freedom. And as much as I fear for my life, I am ready to give it all in.

One year ago today

I left my home in the mountains, and decided to make my own path. Decidí transitar por fuera de mi zona de confort, y buscar otro rumbo, tratando de ser mejor persona y de crecer profesionalmente. Hace un año deje de ser la persona que era antes, y me quise aventurar por el mundo. I made friends, I lost love, I gained 8 kilos. Pero sigo siendo la misma persona de antes, aunque con una diferencia muy grande: soy conciente que hay mucho por cambiar, y que después de coger camino, lograré transitar por un destino que yo misma labraré a pulso.

Apertura. Closure.

Hace mucho no escribía aqui, pero después de ver el trailer para A better life, siento que debería hacerlo.

Ya llevo 7 meses acá, que se han pasado volando. Siete meses en los que he aprendido que hay cosas más importantes que el jschool. Que resulta que uno es un immigrante desde el momento en que sale de su casa, porque deja de pertenecer a un solo sitio y se hace parte de algo mucho mas grande.
Y que uno debería tomarse la vida menos en serio y más en perseguir salmón.

Change my name, I'll remain the same (Month 5)

This is just a short post. To go away and dream it all up again.

To change my name, but remain the same. To my dead grandmother, to my unborn nephew.

To loves lost and loves to come. To better sex. To losing 10 pounds.

To being the writer and photographer I want to be. To learning to love myself, and others in return.

To travel far and away. To friends and family. To me, to stop being afraid and start believing in myself and what I do. To let the world see who I am, and not who I'm probably supposed to be.

I bid you all goodbye, and rejoice to see you soon.

Never Let Me Go

You take a stranger by the hand
A man who doesn't understand
His wildest dreams

You walk across the dirty sand
And offer him an ocean
Of what he's never seen

Maybe I was blind
Or I, I might have closed my eyes
Maybe I was dumb
But what I forgot to say
If you didn't know
Is never let me go

Never let me go
Never let me go
Never let me go

You run from love and don't believe
Unless it catches you by the heel
That even then, you struggle

From red I learned to cross the strand
Your footprints still there in the sand
Everything else, washed away

I may not be alone
Oh I, I may have found my home
I may have lost my way
But what I forgot to say
If you didn't know
Is never let me go

Never let me go
Never let me go

Time to wake up and smell the coffee

Month 3 of Jschool. Mes 3 de vivir en Nueva York.

I've a language tutor now. Me, the one who speaks three languages. Who's worked as a translator. And who loves to write tiny bits of herself in English.
Y saben qué? Me encanta tener a alguien que me pueda ayudar, y saber que tengo la voluntad para trabajar con ella. Que me diga cómo puedo mejorar y tener la certeza que realmente estoy avanzando en lo que escribo, que no sea solo por pasar y tener una nota, sin haber aprendido nada realmente.
Esta ciudad me ha hecho crecer. Me ha dado más humildad y saber apreciar las cosas que tengo, la gente que me rodea. Lloro y soy vulnerable, pero sé que puedo aguantar cualquier clima, cualquier obstáculo que la vida me pone al frente.
And yes, people still card me at bars and think I'm 22, 25 tops doll, when I'm so much closer to being 30.
Terminé la clase de Investigative, y ahora empiezo la de Cultural Affairs. Esta semana escribo sobre Björk - cómo pasar de entender y amar una técnica, a tener que escribir sobre ella? A tener que analizar cada cosa que está presente y tener que escuchar otros discos para tener una idea mínima de lo que uno va a decir?
Empecé a ser más cuidadosa con lo que escribo, y con las palabras que uso en RW1. Es un ejercicio difícil, pero no es imposible. Vine a tratar de pulir mis palabras, y a progresar como escritora (aunque aun no tengo claro si es eso realmente a lo que me dedicaré el resto de mis días). A eso vengo.
Me encantan mis compañeros, pero sigo sin entender a los gringos del todo. Las mujeres son mucho más fáciles de comprender, porque la cabeza de una mujer funciona casi que igual en todo lado y en cualquier idioma.
Pero los hombres son otra historia.
Hay dos tipos que me encantan, pero no dicen nada. Son muy queridos y me dicen cosas lindas, pero de ahi no pasan. Y ya uno entiende que después de 3 o 4 mensajes de texto, la cosa no fluye ni como amigos ni como nada. Entiendo que sean la mata de la timidez, pero por Cristo, esto es el colmo!
Porque no nos hacen la vida más simple, y nos dicen si o no? Porque los roles tienen que invertirse y uno, encima de todo lo que tiene que hacer para la escuela, tiene que pensar en como se corteja? Can't guys take a hint?
Honestamente, creo que escogí la escuela equivocada si queria salir con alguien. Lo bueno de todo eso, es que tengo más tiempo para conocer esta ciudad, amigos, mi escritura y a mi misma. Y eso, señores, no tiene precio.

So far, so good. Sorta.

Well, it's been 2 full months here in NYC. And let me tell you, it's so much more different than I thought it would be.

To begin with, I still feel like a tourist here. There are moments where I just pop out of a subway station and feel so lost for a sec. And then I realize I know the street from start to finish because I've been covering it or walking randomly around it or just passed it by with a beer or two on the way home.

I don't know any hip new places, because I don't have time to go and explore. But I know cheap restaurants no one else knows about, or where to get a dress that won't go for an arm and a leg. Where to hang out and dance salsa.

I've spoken more Spanish than English sometimes, and I feel no guilt about it whatsoever. I've heard really strange pick up lines and felt more and more aware of my own self and what I can do with how I look, my unique look and how I can use it.

I'm dying to use my high heels. And to walk around with makeup again. And to have a Sunday for myself. To do stuff thats not academic but fun. Hacer cosas imposibles, censurables.

And I need to find my own voice, ritmo, space and time. I wanted to write again, and I am. Sometimes it's a fucked up challenge, but hey, I can always say it's just school.