This is Costa Rica

What's been happening for the country is huge.

For a while, I had been extra critical of Costa Rica being displayed in the happy planet index because, let's be honest, we all know this is not the Scandinavian utopia they want us to believe it is. The previous government sold the idea we were an exceptional country to mask the fact that we were a boat sinking- so accurately portrayed as such in the objective media. Then we managed to kick Liberación Nacional out, the underdog president won, and there was a wind of change. It started out pretty romantically.

This Sunday changed my idea of everything. I started the day by joining a Pride with a group of straight friends mostly and we had a fucking blast. I no longer have to dream of joining a Pride in London or San Francisco because I can have a similar experience in my city. I have this group of extra supportive people around, and they are willing to attend this event to make a stand for tolerance, understanding, and difference. As a gay man, this is already a victory in life, and it means a lot more than seeing all those super hot guys I am sure attended pride in the big metropolises of the world. This was only half of my Sunday though. Things were about to improve.

Costa Rica won against Greece, as the world is aware. These guys wearing the white t-shirt with the red stripe defied all odds and waited until the very last moment to give a victory that unleashed chaos in a country. It is hard to explain. You have to be here to understand what it is to see the red tide of people swarming.

We have never been good at soccer, or at anything to be honest. We, as a nation, have done decently and clinged too much to historical turning points that gave us something.
-1821, and the first time we assemblied an army to fight the expansionism of the south of United States.
-1949, the abolishment of the army and the birth of the second republic.
-1990, The world cup in Italy where the Costa Rican soccer team made it to the second round, the furthest we had even been.

And there are the things we just happened to have, like being ridiculously gifted by nature. We speak of the Caribbean and the Pacific as part of us, and we're extra cocky of hosting 5% of the world's total biodiversity-though we are not as involved in preservation as we should. Creationists really feast on the idea that there's a good up there, and that he likes us, as natural disasters usually treat us kindly and do not strike as hard as in other places. We've been spared a lot of pain, and for that we owe the university some degree of gratitude.

Awesome as we are, we mean very little to the world. We live under the long shadow of Europe and the more recently under the grace of the United States.We keep on fighting our way into Latin America because most of people in the region resent we try to fit in when we have not shared the struggles that have endured.  As we have seen in this World Cup, most people couldn't even find Costa Rica in a map. Is it South America? Is it Puerto Rico? We seem to have accepted that as a small country, we should not pretend to be too much and be content with the little protagonism we get.

The discourse is changing, though. The lesson La Sele has taugh us is that part of the Costa Rican spirit is giving it all. The words of the national anthem make a little more sense now: "Cuando alguno pretenda tu gloria manchar, verás a tu pueblo valiente y viril." Whenever someone intends to taint your glory, you'll see your people rising valiantly and with virility. At this moment, so much is expected from us that being mediocre - the most common criticism to Costa Ricans, no longer seems like a choice. We have one path and it is ahead. It is happening in soccer only at the time, but I believe the optimism can spread and become a new national value.

I have the feeling this is the start of something beatiful. I mean, a team of fellow Costa Ricans is giving it all for the world to watch and everybody is rooting for us! The team is standing there as pure virtue and a representation of all we cheer for: bravery, courage, PASSION. Passion is definitely a cultural value we should cling to. I could picture Costa Ricans giving their best just because so much is expected from them. I cannot wait to go to other countries and introduce myself as a Costa Rican because I like giving my best, and now this attitude is trending.

The lesson goes beyond soccer. I do not like soccer that much and may not see another game for a while after the world cup is over. I'm mostly elated because of the opportunity this is giving to Costa Ricans of becoming the happiest planet of earth on a solid basis. This is Costa Rica in 2014, and it rocks.

A different meaning for pride.

In case you missed it (because I'm sure my very conservative family did not), I posted this picture online yesterday:

What goes behind making something rather personal and shaming for the world to see available for everyone to judge and have an opinion? It took insomnia, a sketchbook, pens, the recurrent image of my last hook up, and a point that I needed to make. I should be proud of myself.

Pride time is here again. I'm suscribed to the news coming from Out Magazine on Facebook plus other minor gay media publishers, so everyday this week has been a parade of articles about how pride is being celebrated or planned around the world. I have been out for quite some time now, so the whole event becomes another holiday just like Halloween or New Years Eve. Attending my first Pride was that act of liberation that burned all the bridges to my past where I would find only condemnation for being who I am and who I have not chosen to be. All of that is long forgotten. Ever since coming out, each year stands as another oportunity to increase the visibility of the gay community in my country. The celebration however, started missing a more personal feeling. What does Pride really mean to me? Why should I be proud?

Though I project myself as a very shameless person (not really caring about getting drunk in public, uploading rather questionable photos of myself, yet another victim of the selfie phenomenon, talking about hook ups in a rather positive tone,and so on ) I do care a lot for respect. I believe that most of the times someone has felt disrespected by me, that's because that person clearly intended to step on one of my rights and I simply did not allow them to make that move. Being perceived as mean, rude or arrogant does drag me down and makes me wonder if I should be ashamed of myself for the things I am doing wrong. Being in front of a large group of people and in a position of authority often exposes me to really hard criticism  and constant judgement of the things I am "doing wrong", the things I should be ashamed of. I tell myself that at least I can go back to "just be gay" and just "be with the gays" in our alternative reality for the world to go back to its course . Sure the gays will treat me a little better.

Within the gay community, I have been rather ashamed of myself for not completely fit the mold though. When I came out, I found this rainbow world so open to take me in and shelter me from the hate out there. It turns out that's only a stage, and the gay world didn't take long to become a battleground of lots of people disapproving how masculine I am at times and how femenine I can be some others. People judging me for being super gay and others for not being gay enough were at hand. I'm sure super cool gay guys don't waste time uploading a poorly executed sketch. "Why would he do that now that he was kind of becoming cool again?" I can hear someone say. Wait, so this world of rainbow flags also had its standards of shame?

Shame for not being fit. Shame for being nerdy. Shame for being promiscuous. Shame for what you post on your social media. Shame for your tweets. Shame for your lack of achievements.

Shame on you. Shame on you. SHAME ON YOU.

Why should I attend pride after all? Well, because I actually am proud of myself. Being gay is just that part that the heteronormative world finds hard to accept. That's fine. Not being the kind of gay that is culturaly encouraged earns me criticism within the gay scene. That's fine. Being a dreamer is the kind of thing people too grounded hate about me. That's fine. The fact that I am so determined to live one awesome life generates a lot of criticism. That's fine. Not for one second I should be ashamed of being gay, and being my "own kind of gay", and being a dreamer and aiming high in life because this is who I am.

As it turns out, coming out is not the only battle for pride one is going to have in life. Now I'm in a point of my life in which I have to stand proud not because of who I am inclined to love but for who I am and for whom I want to become. Pride is fought over and earned every day and in every aspect of life. While we move around people and social interaction proves a must in our lives, we will always have to stand up for ourselves. I am an out gay man, so I do belong to this diverse -and many times disfunctional- community. It is my right to be acknowledged as a person what is worth demonstating in today's event. The many other battles are to be fought elsewhere.

When I hit the streets today to stand for pride, at least I'll know what the concept means to me.

P.S. Topic aside, I keep on writing Pride Disguised as Shame, the short story anthology I meant to publish last year. I'm making it even more beautiful so that when I present it to the world, it fills me with pride.

Vow to Adventure

I don’t need a lot of approval where I am going. The realization of it has both given me the wonderful light armor that I need to go far with the wind and left me vulnerable to take a few arrows in the process. I’ve decided what my next move in life is, and that has left me blind to what happens and what will happen for the next few months. I understand my drive might be mistaken for arrogance, and my methods for irrational behavior, but I hope that the outcome reveals that there was not much of that but maybe just the will of work in dreams. We all need a healthy amount of ambition.

The way I’ve understood struggle in life more recently comes from the one truth I found on my own. I believe that one wages wars with oneself the moment the heart chooses a path but the mind refuses to go with it. Unhappiness comes from dreading the distance that the heart takes: the separation from it. Happiness comes only when the mind figures out going against the heart is a lost cause and decides to walk with it providing counsel.

Overall, we live in a world of fear that has made us addicted to comfort. How often do we hear praise to bravery and where have we put it in our scale of values? I feel the constant need of testing my limits. I get in trouble a great deal as well. I come out of it with valuable lessons and with a satisfaction that no other thing in this world gives me. I understand now this is not a curse but a blessing. I accept the rest of my life will be ruled by adventure, and I do not fear the occasional losses.  I don’t know how this is possible, but not those who die have lived.

My grandpa told me once the story of the most significant climb of his life.  He made it all the way to the top of the mountain to see what was on the other side. The sight of the flatlands expanding to the north until the eye could no longer reach left him so speechless that he decided right in that moment that he was going to go to distance and as far as he could. He lived in a world with no buses, and no maps, and fewer people that could possibly assist him if a tragedy befell him, yet he ventured into the nothing and lived one of the greatest trips he cherishes. “Much better to travel under your own heart’s command and not under other people’s desires” he would hint later when he told me how after the civil war, his squad was forced to exile in that same north he had visited once. His story was so imbued with the passion of discovery that the time and the years to come failed miserably in fading away for my brain; if anything, the fire for adventure became hotter and brighter. I’ve seen the weight of the past in my grandfather’s eyes when he speaks of his misdeeds, but when he talks about that climb that change it all, I have seen pride and not even for an instant regret.

I have received much love from people. That’s why it took me long hours to plan what I would tell them when I looked them in the eye. It wounds me when they feel that aspiring for more is rejecting the current support they provide. I hope I can prove to them one day that I aspire to rise so that they can rise with me. There’s also that satisfaction one gets from having spoken your mind. It feels glorious to live by your own standards. I believe the ones that matter understand that.

I speak of many things that seem to be forgotten. I speak of magic. I speak of virtue. I speak of adventure. I dwell in a world long gone where bravery actually matters and where adventure is valued above all. When I voice my thoughts I lose some respect earned by the results of the things I have done well in life. Such blows hit right in my confidence, but I can take them. I don’t need a lot of approval where I am going, see? When one walks ahead, all those voices and reprimands stay behind while one keeps on pressing forward, eyes fixed on the rising sun.

Him and the elements

I wonder if he noticed that I've been exploring him with all the elements. 

I started out with water, but he was a rock, and I knew it would take me some time to dig a hole into his life. I wasn't part of his solid world, so I started to pour a single drop everytime with the hope my feelings would dig a hole and reach his. I was wind, because once I doubted water would be any good, and then I fled. I came back, to stir his surroundings, to make some noise, to carry sounds from afar in one attempt to impress, and the storm I was causing kept him interested, but I barely erode his surface. Then I went back to be water, and kept on pouring one drop at the time. Then my heartbeat went faster, and the drops with it. I saw the cracks in the boulder, and my drops were streams and then rivers. The water went flamable; here's where the physics made no sense and you risk to think magic does. I was fire and he was fire. We burnt the time wasted. We immolated the ghost of our pasts, and we consumed every last bit of oxygen until we were forced to gasp for air and wonder "what now?" 

Life came to a stop. And then I wanted to be earth. I wanted to be a soil where he could grow his thoughts into a beautiful trees. I was willing to be a hill where he, in the form of wind, could blow freely and play. I wanted to be earth because I wanted him to build the platform that will launch him to see the stars from close. 

The thing is, he was a rock before, and I had no idea he could switch his element as well. Now that I've discovered it, I want to be wind when he wants to be wind, but I want to be earth to offer him a place to come back to. I've seen with some satisfaction how I draw back and become earth slowly to see what he wishes to do, what element he wants to turn into. That's when he, in his ethereal form, comes back and decides to be ground with me for a little while. "What now?" He asks, so I suggest he reads a poem by Jorge Luis Borges and plants his own garden. "I'm here to help you water it" I offer. And I mean it, so I know I'll have to be rain to keep his garden fresh, and I'll have to be wind to blow away some of his clouds that may threatened the growth of his plants. I never thought I could be earth, so maybe by turning into all the elements, I not only explored me, but discovered the most fertile side about myself. A flower just bloomed in my garden too, and it is way too beautiful not to want passionatedly to take care of it. 

I hope he does not mind I drew inspiration from him. I hope he doesn't mind I've been exploring him with all the elements. I still want to see how his garden grows, and I desperatedly need that my wind caughts the scent of his first bloom.

Sort of dating

Since my last break up, my status has often been "sort of dating". It was like, after coming out of two intense monogamous relationships, I was done with the idea of sticking to one person. Sure I've tried, but just when I am about to succumb to my predominantly old fashioned loving style, something takes commitment out of the picture, quite dramatically. Among my excuses, I work too much and barely have any time for myself. Last year I was often out of the country, so no one wanted the prospect of me cheating on them with a foreigner. That saved us all some serious drama. One guy told me I lived too intensively. He could make a case of someone who loved fast because my lifestyle puts things to end just as easily. Then I met the "we don't commit until we are sure we’ve found the right one" generation. As a result of two years of comes and goes, I find myself totally convinced that monogamous relationships are only one shade in the spectrum of how we choose to love.

In an attempt of coming to terms with myself, I accepted "sort of dating" was my current status. I’m sort of dating someone.  We're not a couple but we're not strangers, and we most definitely do not base our interactions on sex to call ourselves friends with benefits. The pre-existing categories of our human interaction do not describe us. However, whenever we are together, we'd like to think we are a couple. We are there to spend quality time, support each other, discuss dreams and aspirations and have wonderful physical connection. We share our food and drinks, and we have Access to each other’s belongings really easily. There isn't a selfish secret agenda,but there aren't any promises other than the openly stated. Such are the terms in which we have learned to come to the other.

I'm going to burst the bubble of this idyllic dating model. Sort of dating is complicated because your availability highly depends on how close you feel with the other person at the moment. I've had truly monogamous times perfectly alternated with some very carefree times .During this ambivalent stages, I struggle trying not to take personal that he's not there to catch me when I fall plus all the other expectations built around the couple's archetype. That's a need I may have to ask friends to cover. Or what about sucking it up? Or what happens when you feel emotionally closer to other person? You take the risk of playing along and create a two week to one date (whatever is suitable for the occasion) getaway with someone else. It all happens, and if the people you just invited to your life temporarily do not leave a stronger impression, you go back to your sort of dating comfort zone and nothing has really happened. There’s always the risk of making a bad choice and leaving a real opportunity go. There’s always the risk of not going back to the sort of dating state.By society's standards, I should be some ruthless libertine for even considering sort of dating morally right. On how life works, I'm happy to find that the own social constructions I make are equally valid as those others have shaped for us. People can find mine offensive, yes. People can react skeptically; that's also a possibility. My consolation is that I no longer feel I have to justify (beyond this entry, that is) how my way of loving is truthful to my principles and how real it feels for me.

Can sort of dating lead to actual dating? If the time is right and the stars are aligned, I do not see why not. In the meantime, if I happen to be to be single it does not mean I'm available just as if I happen to be sort of dating does not mean I can't explore my possibilities. If I have an encounter with someone else while sort of dating, it would not mean I've stopped caring for my sort of date. We're clear on redefining our relationship the moment the current arrangement threats on hurting any of us. Middle finger to all traditional models and the way we’re taught to understand and judge the world. I’m 27, sort of dating, and life has never felt this down to earth. 

Applied Economics of Socialization and the Many Combat Suits I Wear

The past couple of weeks, incredibly hectic for me socially speaking, have taught me a big lesson. Social life can be a drug with horrible side effects. I've seen at least three people a day (socially), sometimes more, for fifteen days. That's a lot of coffee, beer, popcorn, name it. That part is alright. The part of interacting with many that is not ok is how much of their energy they leave you and take from you. One could easily lose oneself in a constant transaction of energy with others. Some take stuff from your life, some others leave stuff in your life. Some is incredibly positive, some is not. You become a bank of stories, memories, feelings, attitudes. You earn bonuses, and you give loans. Socialization ends up not being that different than the Economy.

I have invested tons socially, and I've made my profit. This period of time led me to make one big decision. I'm going back to the shadows. For a while, I have enjoyed a certain popularity even I am not able to understand. Social media has also given me a spot. I have piled up likes on Facebook and followers on twitter, and it gets addictive though I really don't have an idea of what to do with them. I know many people in San José because I think I project that I like to be around people. Or so it had been for a while. It turns out, this overtly social persona is earning me a whole lot of frustration. Maybe I'm a bank that is facing a financial crisis - though I wouldn't fill in for bankrupcy just yet. I know a lot of people, but not a lot of people know me. Sure, they recognize my face and have a certain notion they like me, but very few people wants to see deeper than that. Believe it or not, that hurts.Fit the mold, and the moment you don't, no one's interested in your company. Use the right strategy to attract investment and remain popular and current.  It ends up being kind of like when in a videogame you wear a certain armor for certain missions because you know you start with a boost that gives you advantages.
-Isaac the party animal: Most succesful combat suit. Drink like crazy, dance around, smile, encourage people to do the same. Make the night memorable. Give them a reason to laugh or something to talk about. Create an environment that lifts all the worries they've had all day. This suit is incompatible with the intellectual suit and little compatible with. At the end of the day, it is always easier to reduce Isaac to an alcoholic.
-Isaac the coordinator: (also known as Isaac the reliable) The suit I have to wear for my job, when I present myself as a responsible, hardworking person. Everybody has high expectations of the performance of this suit, so you better work accordingly.  People would think I love being a workaholic, but the truth is, when the day is over, I want to forget about work just as anybody else does. This suit is incompatible with any suit that shows you have a life.
-Isaac the family guy: Act wisely, support your family, listen to each one of the members. Encourage them in their hopes and dreams, help them if you can. This suit works perfectly as long as I remain asexual, not defying traditional values and as acting like my life is less important because I'm not getting married, starting a family, or going back to university any time soon.
-Isaac the sympathetic: More than a suit, it is a shade you can implement with other suits. I'm the one listening all the time. I appreciate that people talk to me about their problems, but I'm not a garbage can where you throw your crap and leave. "Thanks for listening, Isaac" is rarely followed by a "how have you been?". I'm a little tired of people just talking and the moment you take your turn to talk, their body language tells you right in your face they couldn't care less about what you are about to say.
-Isaac the misunderstood artist: "Whatever idea he has, it's fine, you wouldn't understand so don't even try. Let him be. It'll pass. We've seen sketches, and drafts, but we haven't seen any finished painting or book. Let him be with his blog and his 70 views per post. That's ought to make him happy"
There might be more "combat suits" I have. I'm just really tired of speaking of myself in third person singular at this point.

Have I profited in the social business? Yes, a lot is earned, but then a lot is spent to keep the social machine running. Those suits are expensive.The expenses are often personal. Some times you're just exposing your brand to criticism, but no one is buying the product. So, what about just be without trying to hard? Well, for how long do people hold a position of popularity without constantly working on their social skills and making social expenses? It's simply impossible. To win big, you have to bet big. Some days you come home with a ridiculous amount of "popularity points" earned. Some others, you lost big time. That's the game I no longer want to play.

So here I am at a point of my life where I'm officially declaring that my company is out of business. Allow other people to be popular and be seen on the scene while I keep my peace. Smart business people should keep in mind the principles of comparative advantage apply, and I should not invest more in a business in which other people are incredibly better if that's delaying the promising business where I most likely thrive: I'd like to think that's creating as an artist, as a writer.

Enjoy your parties and your trips. I'll be home rethinking the economics of my life.

From Today On, Star Wars is a Cute Topic For Me.

Today, I had a cute day. Hanging out with my nephews is the cutest time of my life, like cute, extra cute, rainbows, and chocolate mountains, toy cars and heartily laughs. They bring out the best version of me, and they even manage to stop my swearing, which I can't even hide in front of my mother.
I try not to impose any of my hobbies on them but rather encourage them to pursue their interest - I'm becoming a big man with some understanding on children. If they want to watch Pixar's Cars or repeat to me the many brands and models of their collection cars (they're rather mechanically oriented, you see?) I manage to fake good ten minutes of interest, and then I suggest switchin to something that is more of my liking: make them fly on the air, pushing their rideable toy car or drawing. I love drawing, and I'm becoming more of the story-telling uncle to my own surprise.
You can imagine my amazement when my 9 year old nephew sat with me and asked me to play Angry Birds Star Wars. My nephews (the three of them gamers, proudly) have always resourced to me whenever they´re stuck on a level or just showed me how good they do. That's generation X's supremacy still: "You know, kids, we still played tag on the streets with packs of friends and managed to conquer the videogames for the first time. Videogames are our thing, and you'll never be better than us." So we sat down and played, because those 3 stars on the rating weren't going to unlock themselves.
The conversation swiftly changes from the mechanics of the videogame to the content of it. I, an expert in the first Angry Birds but a  newbie in the Star Wars themed version, make a casual observation. I tell little Danny "Cool! This stage is Tatoiune, where Anakin is from". "Who's Anaking?" He asked. "Oh, but he's who started it all. He's not in the game, though. Luke is. And this yellow bird right here with the gun, that's Han Solo, the driver of the Milennial Falcon, the ship you see in the cutscenes" I find hard to control my geek side at this point, and my nephew doesn't seem to be bothered by my "I act like I never lost my virginity" nerd state, so I carry on. "Don't you know who this robot is?" and I point RD-D2 in the gallery. He went there because he wanted me to explain the list of characters. "No. He's an egg-robot" he replies. "Well, he's an egg robot here because all in this game needs to fit with Angry Birds, but in real life, (yes, I said "in real life) he's a robot that helps the characters a lot". My nephew is a bright kid for this kind of things. He knows how to deal with grown ups and our big words. "This guy makes a funny sound" and he presses the Chewbacca icon on the screen. "In the movie version, he's not an egg. He's tall and full of fur, and he is Han Solo's best buddy." At the mention of Han Solo, Danny points the yellow bird and makes it sound with a click of the mouse. I nod with satisfaction. "And this..." and I point Darth Vader with my finger. "Oh, you don't need to tell me who he is. I know. He's the bad guy". "He's the bad guy" I concur, and before I realized the heart to heart I just had with my nephew over Star Wars, he starts clicking the green pig's different icons in the gallery very fast and he tells me "I call this the piggie rap". I can't help start clicking other icons and see how many raps we can create with the characters. The game turns into a completely different thing, and we start mixing sounds and making music. That part was extra fun too.
So, there will come the day when I see with horror how the Death Star destroy's Alderaan before Prince Leia's eyes, and I will feel deeply disgusted by the sole existence of Jabba the Hut. Not today, though. Today Star Wars is the cutest thing.