Ojalá

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I am at the end of the hall, in the cornet to be precise, of the building in which I have spent the last four years of my life. This place has closed its doors to me, yet I am here trying to finish with little dignity. I see the two people sitting in front of me and I wonder what their motivation to keep going is, what their wishes are, what is their hope. Now that I am at the end of this journey I think: If only I could do something different, what it may be?

I think about it and I feel this vertigo pass over my whole body. It is a lost cause, it is hopeless and yet, I believe in my own lie that there is still hope. I think in a word that describes having hope in a lost cause, in Spanish the word “ojala” is used to describes those situations.

In an interview, Silvio Rodriguez said that “Ojala” is a song dedicated to his first love. I understand that this is not a love song, but a song that asks for a miracle to make him forget that love; hopefully that love stop being so pure, hopefully that perfect smile disappears, hopefully something happens that suddenly erases that memory.

This is a song to the lost cause of loving what you once had, what a better word to describe the wish and the hope for the love that is already lost… ojala.

This is the best translation I found (original post), I edited a few lines.

Ojalá que las hojas no te toquen el cuerpo cuando caigan
Para que no las puedas convertir en cristal.
Ojalá que la lluvia deje de ser milagro que baja por tu cuerpo.
Ojalá que la luna pueda salir sin ti.
Ojalá que la tierra no te bese los pasos.
May the leaves not touch your body when they fall
So that you don’t turn them to crystal
May the rain cease to be a miracle flowing over your body
May the moon be able to rise without you
May the earth not kiss your steps
Ojalá se te acabe la mirada constante,
La palabra precisa, la sonrisa perfecta.
Ojalá pase algo que te borre de pronto:
Una luz cegadora, un disparo de Nievi.
Ojalá por lo menos que me lleve la muerte,
Para no verte tanto, para no verte siempre
En todos los segundos, en todas las visiones:
Ojalá que no pueda tocarte ni en canciones
May your constant gaze fade away
The precise word, the perfect smile
May something happen suddenly to erase you
A blinding light, a shot by Nievi.
May at least death take me
So that I won’t see you so often, so that I won’t see you always
In every second, in every vision
May I not be able to touch you, even in song
Ojalá que la aurora no de gritos que caigan en mi espalda.
Ojalá que tu nombre se le olvide a esa voz.
Ojalá las paredes no retengan tu ruido de camino cansado.
Ojalá que el deseo se vaya tras de ti,
A tu viejo gobierno de difuntos y flores.
May the dawn not bring the shouts that fall down my back
May your name be forgotten by that voice
May the walls not hold the sound of your exhausted journey
May the desire follow you
To your old government of death and flowers
Ojalá se te acabe la mirada constante,
La palabra precisa, la sonrisa perfecta.
Ojalá pase algo que te borre de pronto:
Una luz cegadora, un disparo de Nievi.
Ojalá por lo menos que me lleve la muerte,
Para no verte tanto, para no verte siempre
En todos los segundos, en todas las visiones:
Ojalá que no pueda tocarte ni en canciones
May your constant gaze fade away
The precise word, the perfect smile
May something happen suddenly to erase you
A blinding light, a shot by Nievi.
May at least death take me
So that I won’t see you so often, so that I won’t see you always
In every second, in every vision
May I not be able to touch you, even in song
Ojalá pase algo que te borre de pronto:
Una luz cegadora, un disparo de nieve.
Ojalá por lo menos que me lleve la muerte,
Para no verte tanto, para no verte siempre
En todos los segundos, en todas las visiones:
Ojalá que no pueda tocarte ni en canciones
May something happen soon to erase you
A blinding light, a shot of snow.
May at least death take me
So that I won’t see you so often, so that I won’t see you always
In every second, in every vision
May I not be able to touch you, even in song
Ojalá

Badlands

img_0250-2Religion played a big role in my life, it does not anymore. I am not a religious person. However, I find religious stories fascinating and sometimes absurd. Not too long ago I heard a local religious leader talking about Adam and Eve:

When Adam and Eve disobeyed God’s commandment they were afraid, they wanted to hide. When God call them, the snake told them to grab some leaves and cover their naked bodies. Because Adam and Eve disobeyed, it would be required to have someone to bring us back to God, someone who would show us the way; Jesus.

This religious leader explained how when we fail we feel ashamed, we want to hide and segregate ourselves from the people we love. Shame makes us to submissively accept failure.

One day after the U.S. elections of 1980 in which Ronald Reagan was elected president, Bruce Springsteen was giving a concert in which he said, “I don’t know what you guys think about what happened last night, but I think it’s pretty frightening” then he played “Badlands”.

Badlands, a song that call us to not give up and submissively accept failure, a song to not waste our time waiting for something good to happen. This is a song that call us to keep pushing until the badlands start treating us good, and it is love and hope what one day may raise us above these badlands.

Badlands

Stupid idea of Liberty

img_20160908_111359.jpgOne of the leaders of the student movement of October 2nd of 1968 in Mexico was Luis Gonzalez de Alba. After the repression suffered in Tlatelolco, Gonzalez de Alba was taken to jail, the Lecumberri. While in there, he listened to the song “Those were the days”, he described it as a sound that came from inside the jail and in that moment of pain it was a chant of liberty.

In a weird way, very stupid way may be a better description, I hold myself to falling in love with the person I knew was the one. Why did I do that? Well, because I was so obsessed with the idea of my liberty, thinking that being in love would hold me back from being myself. I thought that not having that dependency on someone else means that I would be able to do whatever I wanted to. Little I knew that what I wanted was to be in love, and I just restrained myself from the privilege of being love back by the person I love.

I heard all of those stories and experiences of crazy youth and I became so obsessed with the idea to get to live that. I chose new experiences, and put the woman I love in second place.

Nobody will ever know how much I love you, you will always doubt if it was real, and I have to live with that. It does not matter how much I tell you that I love you, It does not matter to say how sorry I am. I tried so hard to make you stay. But I had nothing, I knew that it was over and all I can do is to see it all falling apart.

This is not a song of liberty, this a song of regret. This is a song of not choosing the woman I love; instead, going for the stupid idea of “you should do this before you marry”. Now that everything is gone, the little hope I had has banished with that last phone call, and all I have left to say is that THOSE WERE THE DAYS…

Stupid idea of Liberty

Have you ever been drunk?

I have never been drunk. Alcohol does not attract my attention, if I ever get drunk it would be because of a bad break up. I imagine myself sitting in a Mexican cantina drinking tequila and listening to Jose Alfredo’s songs. There is no better image than a sad person listening to a mariachi.

The closest thing to a cantina in Provo Utah is a college bar. If I go there, people do not listen to mariachi, right?  This is the no mariachi song that I would play on my phone…

Hey, That’s No Way to Say Goodbye

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But now it’s come to distances and both of us must try
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye

I’m not looking for another as I wander in my time
Walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
You know my love goes with you as your love stays with me
It’s just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea
But let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm
Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you
But let’s not talk of love or chains and things we can’t untie
Your eyes are soft with sorrow
Hey, that’s no way to say goodbye

Have you ever been drunk?

Mis abuelos. Ahora bailan en el cielo

Mi hermano compartio una foto en Facebook titulada “Mis abuelos. Ahora bailan en el cielo”. No se cuando fue tomada, supongo que fue durante alguna navidad ya que se pueden ver las decorasiones al fondo.

Este mes me senti conectado a una celebrasion Mexicana a la cual nunca habia puesto atension; Dia de Muertos, quiza se deba ha que no he experimentado la muerte de algun ser querido. Lo mas cercano que he visto la muerte fue con la partida de mis abuelos maternos, Adolfina y Homero. Nunca tube una relasion muy cercana a ellos, asi que su partida no fue dolorosa.

En el Dia de Muertos las gente hace un altar en el que colocan cosas que le gustaban al difunto: comida, musica, bebidas, etc., asi el puede vicitar el altar y disfrutar de esto. Nunca he puesto un altar, si hago uno seria para mis abuelos.

En mi mente planeaba como hacer un altar, imaginaba los colores de el zempasuchil y el lugar donde lo pondria.  Fue en ese momento que me di cuenta: no se que disfrutaban mis abuelos, no se que musica escuchaban, no se que les gustaba comer. Me di cuenta que nunca los conoci.

Mis abuelos. Ahora bailan en el cielo

Chapter 1

img_1849One of the most interesting things I have learned in the U.S.A. is the story of Sacajawea. My interest is due to her similitude with La Malinche from Mexico. Although there are more differences than similitudes between this two women, the most surprising contrast is their cultural significance among Americans and Mexicans.

Sacajawea helped to interpret during the Lewis and Clark expedition, she is not only seen as a motherly figure but as a resemble of women’s worth. La Malinche was a interpreter for Hernan Cortes, she is considered a traitor. In fact, the term “malinchista” describes someone who prefers foreign values and cultures and disregards his own.

La Malinche had a son with Hernan Cortes -Martin-who is considered one of the first mestizos. Is in this way that La Malinche gave birth and origin to the Mexicans, this is the reason I named this blog Hijos De La Malinche.

Chapter 1