Writers: Sinners!

We writers commit sin all the time. We watch from afar, we don't get involved, and yet we live people's lives with them. Thieves. This could be called schizophrenia by psychologists, even lying to ourselves - we called it delight. Sick. We share moments with people, and they never find out. We watch over in the creepiest way, yet people keep the idea that we're making art. Stalkers. We enjoy the company of strangers that will later give birth to characters, and they will never know the fictional person has their genes. In this sense, we create a lot of fatherless bastards --no, this is not redundant, the second alludes to their personality. We take the place of a god and modify reality to make it look better and tell god we have a second opinion. Profane. Liars. We denigrate, humiliate, and expose. Monsters. We're the worst. We deprive ourselves from some humanity to make people purge to what does even tickle us. We're helpless, and we wouldn't choose another life if we had to.

One Episode of Dramatic Irony

Some people walk our footsteps, and we wouldn't ever realize it until a torrential rain corners you in that bakery store you haven't visited since 2008.
I came in because I felt like some pastry, because I needed the bathroom, but mostly because I wanted to shelter from the rain in a place that reminded me of him. I came in and bought the worst piece of cake ever - I had the idea they were terrific in the past, and there I saw this blond princess that reminded me of Tinkerbell right away. She was having a piece of bread, just that, no drink, no coffee, just the mouthful of baked, inflated flour. If her looks weren't enough to give her away as a foreigner, her big blue back pack would and her feeble, soaked umbrella would do the job.
My first thought as a foreigner collector and as a magnet for damsels in distress was to approach her and start a conversation, but I was too wet to add rejection to my list of things that had gone wrong in my day - the cake included, and the book I brought to remain enclosed in myself was too good to stop reading.
I would raise my sight to check if she was still there for a while until, for my relief and distress, she left. She took her Norse and alien-like look through the door, and I thought that she, as it has happened with many strangers I'm fond of while in my range, would disappear from my life. But the vice of smoking took me to the supermarket across the street just to find her buying bananas. Bread and bananas: people who know a bit about my adventures and about the novel that they inspired know how important bread and bananas are for me. They're the only way in which you can keep your meal for less than a dollar without fainting or starving to death. That's what Vlad and I ate back then in 2008 because we had either bought a big bottle of wine or because the day's budget was no more than 2 dollars. And there I had a lady following our steps, doing the same thing in the exact same places...
I paid for the cigarettes and walk away smiling. "We were first" I thought, "and this story will be mine when I finally publish this novel that talks about it." But how do I know how many people came before us and have done the same to save some money? I thought she would disappear when I resumed my walking under the raindrops that pounded against my umbrella... but the truth is that this girl is going to stay in my head for a season at least.

I call it one episode of dramatic irony because the viewer, me, knows how the story goes.

Observations at my Workplace and Rants on People Living in Small Worlds

I might need to get some sleep, but before hitting the pillow, I wanted to share an experience I had this morning. The statement I have to make is that working in a language academy can be fun. Yeah, you can laugh AT your students a great deal and still keep your job. Or so it is what some people think.
It's Saturday morning and I was asked to evaluate tribunal exams today. In spite of knowing that I was going to be hangover as hell, I said early in the week that I could do it, and there I was, with thirst, a headache, and listening to the first adolescent in the list struggling to utter the sounds of "I'm fine." I thought that my morning couldn't suck more, until the other professor in the tribunal tried to socialize with me. After minutes of dull talk with the adult, I actually started looking forward the arrival of the rest of the students. This professor, a lovely lady deep inside no doubt, spoke regular English, and that pissed me off because she had been a teacher for more than six years! She defied my belief on the longing for improvement that I thought every human had. Well, as much as I would like to analyze the character of a woman who lives in a very small world and who does not even excel at what she does for a living, I need to focus on the students.
Giving tribunal exams is like being a judge in one of this T.V. reality shows. Somebody sits in front of you, you ask questions, and you give a number that corresponds to how much the person impressed you. If you could fast forward the tape, you would see faces smiling, some others just blank, and the rest actually talking. We get into their lives and ask "What's your favorite food/drink/music genre/activity/book/movie/artist?" and sometimes, if we are not mature enough like this professor I worked with, you feel that you're entitled to make comments about their tastes --I can't help talking about this person. Favorite food: nearly 70% of the students said Pizza. I laugh to myself here because when you're a teenager, you probably don't know that eating healthy is actually delicious. Favorite drink: Coke, no wonder. I just want to see how that answer changes when they become eighteen. Place they would like to visit: They described France as the land of love and romanticism. I was surprised they didn't say "the States," but I was disappointed on them buying all the stereotypes. I guess I was laughing inside, but it was more like a laugh with a patronizing comment "Oh, you've got so much to learn." I turned to the professor and she was laughing blatantly and saying "assuming that that's a meal," "assuming that that music genre even exists," "assuming that you don't know better."
Still, if you see all that these kids, with their limited world and all, still have ahead of them, you think "well, they may have time for discovering that pizza isn't the best, that Coke tastes to too much sugar, and that Paris is overrated." However, if you see the lady, you can't help but feeling that she's hopeless, that her narrow vision won't broaden anytime soon, and that she misses so much of what is happening around everyday. Then it makes me wonder... who looks the most stupid in this situation?