missing little "love interest" notes, longing looks and being wanted...

El silencio insulta

El silencio insulta, la ausencia de la razón turba
Puede lo que quedó sobre la piel a la mirada que traspasó

Y el recuerdo quiere ganar al sueño

Después de no querer querer y resistirse a olvidar
A veces no queda más que hacer que borrar
Lejos de cubrir el desaguisado con una nueva capa
Me lo tomo con calma
Con más miedo que nunca y menos esperanza,
Deshago el trabajo de la mañana cada tarde
Penélope necia y desganada

Y el recuerdo sigue queriendo ganar al sueño

En medio del ruido de fondo de una frecuencia vacía,
Me llega un mensaje, claro y más que razonable
Deja de escuchar a la nada, atrévete a volver a soñar

Normas e imposiciones para mi fuerza de voluntad

1. Cuando sientas el impulso irrefrenable de volver, de echar mano, de recordar y recontar, desvíalo a ese algo constructivo.

2. Si eres débil -y lo serás, no te engañes-, con objeto de minimizar el impacto de ésta tu debilidad, permítete volver un máximo de una vez diaria.

3. Recordar está prohibido después de las siete, al igual que los carbohidratos.

4. Ya que debes saltarte alguna norma, olvida la estupidez de los carbohidratos y consume todos los que te pida el cuerpo.

5. Vuelve a ser tú misma lo más rápido que puedas. Eso incluye los buenos hábitos y el saludable nivel de autoestima.

6. Cuida tu caligrafía. "Despacito y con buena letra" tiene su razón de ser, y te hará sentir mejor contigo misma.

7. Intenta desarrollar un complejo de superioridad. Nunca vienen mal.

imbécil

(Del lat. imbecillis).

1. adj. Alelado, escaso de razón. U. t. c. s.

2. adj. p. us. Flaco, débil.

it's all rubbish, isn't it?

JEFF: It's all rubbish, isn't it?
JANE: Rubbish?
JEFF: They're not exploring their feelings, they're leaving.
JANE: Yeah, yeah. I know.
JEFF: You don't deserve this.
JANE: We really, really don't deserve this, Jeffrey.

Realmente se puede culpar a la publicidad de todo

(don't) cushion the blow

PHOEBE: (ENTERING) Hi guys!
ALL: Hey, Pheebs! Hi!
ROSS: Hey. Oh, oh, how'd it go?
PHOEBE: Um, not so good. He walked me to the subway and said 'We should do this again!'
ALL: Ohh. Ouch.
RACHEL: What? He said 'we should do it again', that's good, right?
MONICA: Uh, no. Loosely translated 'We should do this again' means 'You will never see me naked'.
RACHEL: Since when?
JOEY: Since always. It's like dating language. Y'know, like 'It's not you' means 'It is you'.
CHANDLER: Or 'You're such a nice guy' means 'I'm gonna be dating leather-wearing alcoholics and complaining about them to you'.
PHOEBE: Or, or, y'know, um, 'I think we should see other people' means 'Ha, ha, I already am'.

-- Friends 1x03 The One with the Thumb

Se'm moren les plantes

més/más

Imogen Heap - Whatever

Lyrics

neglected
A	adjective
	1	neglected, unattended
				lacking a caretaker; "a neglected child"; "many casualties were lying unattended"
	2	ignored, neglected, unheeded
				disregarded; "his cries were unheeded"; "Shaw's neglected one-act comedy, `A Village Wooing'"; "her ignored advice"

high-maintenance (comparative more high-maintenance, superlative most high-maintenance)

1. Describes a system which requires a high degree of maintenance to ensure proper functioning and without which it is likely to break down.
2. (figuratively, of a person) Who requires a lot of attention.

   He has this incredibly high-maintenance girlfriend; if he doesn't tell her that he loves her every five minutes, she tends to break down into hysterical depressive weepy fits.

REBADOW: You know, you try to prepare for a death, but always secretly you believe there's a chance that the doctors were wrong, that they'll find a cure, and that as long as he's alive there's time. So, while you think you're stealing yourself, all you're really doing is waiting on the miracle, which is why, when death comes, it's so horrible, because you realize... you weren't prepared at all.
BUSMALIS: But you knew last night.
REBADOW: On some level.

-- Oz 5x08 Impotence

¡Qué difísil es ser sho!

I can take a hint.

Wide open, dicen - qué cachondos

Cuaderno de bitácora del a ud. quién le ha dado vela en este entierro

Entrada nº1

Al parecer, soy demasiado sencillina. Me han dicho/ordenado que debería "probar" un día a pintarme un "poquitín", recogerme el pelo y ponerme un vestido. Como si nunca en la vida hubiera hecho cosa semejante (en lo del vestido están en lo cierto, pero antes de los tres años sí llevaba, así que no del todo).

Si tomás, no manejés ni el coco, ni el pan de coco.

The seventeen stages of Whatever

1. Skepticism
2. Gladness
3. (Maybe?) Hopefulness
4. Unadulterated joy
5. Impatience
6. Doubt
7. Self-doubt
8. Self-deprication
9. Anorexia
10. Bargaining
11. Self-delusion
12. Self-convincing
13. Sugar
14. Relief
15. Irritability & general bitchiness
16. Anger
17. Zen
Bonus. Jump back to any stage from 3 to 5 with higher emphasis on the "self" stages.

i'm losing my mime

That's about the gayest thing I've ever heard.

Your demons

So I tried it. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine my monster. What would it look like? Big, I decided. Bigger than me. Dark, definitely dark. Masked, one with the shadows. Trim enough to sneak up on you, and yet stout, corpulent enough that he could clearly overpower you anytime. Not necessarily male but decidedly masculine, aggressive. Slits for eyes, of a really clear or bright color.

Then I concentrated on the opposite image. A skinny, stringy, glowing-in-the-dark, sexless, big-eyed, effeminate, unmissable, unavoidable, thinner than air light creature that came directly at me in an open space, at light speed.

Well, that is fucking scary too.