Postcards of underdevelopment
All these days, after meditating and preparing coffee, I write about the same: my indecision, which at this time increases with the torments. I tell myself, between dreams, that this has been a shitty month. And even, during meditation, in one of the thoughts that sneak in, I see myself talking to Mom, cursing the school next door. There are several torments here. And I concluded that, since I started that driving course, the energy has dropped me noticeably. Then came the dismal Sunday when Mom did not come home to sleep. These days the telephone was damaged, and on Saturday, with the painter here, I was preparing to take a nap in my mother's room, because the painter had already passed into the room that is before my room, and when I was dozing, those from the telephone company arrived, who have responded more effectively than ever to the call I made on Saturday. Although they ask you what time you want them to go, and so you say that in the morning, and so they tell you that it will take 24 hours, they appear any day, at any time. If it was urgent, if it was the internet that I use so much that I needed to fix, there would be delays.And yesterday, I was excited about the Emmy awards, and in the middle of the awards, when I took the first bite of pineapple jelly to my mouth, the light goes out. I read a while on the computer, until the battery ran out, and then I went to the balcony to continue reading on the Ipad. A few days ago the light had gone too, and I documented it here. A disaster. Sure, one can keep the joy, yes. Here they are specialists in that, they are cheerful people despite the constant misery. I think the thought that ignorance makes you a calmer being.
Without light, the screams of disgusting teenagers and the poor teachers of the next school (the damn school next door) become more fierce. The heat is still not that heavy at seven in the morning. The painter will arrive in a few minutes. And in a while the teacher of the driving classes will come. I long for a few days of peace.
Then I doubt: I have said that I will wait to finish the driving course, and when I have the license, I will decide if I am going to Buenos Aires in October. But, in reality, I want to wait until the end of January: more work options may arise here, and I want to accompany Mom during the holidays. In November, in addition, classes end at the school next door, so I can enjoy the silence that is so necessary in the mornings when I wake up.
For now, the earliest hope is to see Áspora next weekend who will come to another town on the holiday coast. It will be good for me to leave the house, to rest from my mother, to alter my conscience, to immerse myself in the sea.
I would like that to be happy the same, no matter what happens, resist less, respond better, accept easier. See me more fortunate, the glass half full. But (blessed but) anger and outrage win me sometimes. "Everything is for the objective in my career", I tell myself. That everything is worth it, I hope.
And suddenly, light. Oh! I finished correcting these lines, and the light has arrived. "Praise Jesus of Nazareth!" I shout to Mom. I'll go for a plate of almond drink with granola. And I will rejoice for a while in this transient and bourgeois joy of Caribbean underdevelopment.
