The social network...

After seeing that the Social Network has been nominated and won a series of awards, I definitely wanted to see it. Located at Harvard, it depicts a story that, in terms of its cybernetic hallmarks, would have been impossible to imagine when I was dreaming about studying at the John F. Kennedy School of Government. The greed, competition and drive to excel, if possible by stepping on others, is as old as humanity.

To think that exactly that was the environment that I wanted to be in, seems unreal. The Colmex certainly qualifies. And it wasn't that much fun. But it didn't seem to be enough. I was convinced that if I wanted to be successful, outstanding, and compensate for "years of powerlessness", I needed to be far beyond average, top of the top. Of course I wanted to go to Harvard--nowhere else.

The one piece that did not really match with my theory is my dislike of elitism. The arrogance, detachment and stupid vanity of social, economic and political elites makes me want to throw up. As the racoon says, I have the gene of rebellion hardwired into my brain, blood, heart and soul.
Ultimately, this gene made me take a sharp turn, trash the Harvard dream, and go down a different path. Looking back, there might be no other detour as important as this one in my life. The ride has been fantastic!

And just to close the subject... I don't think that The Social Network has anything extraordinary in it. It is, quite frankly, average.

Daddy cool...

That is the name of a Bonny M song of the seventies... It was my favorite song when I was tiny, because I thought that it was written for my dad. I had my own private Daddy Cool, indeed.

Vati would get me up in the morning, and prepare me for school. He would watch--from the window of his bedroom, up on the third floor--my steps towards primary school, two blocks down. At that same place, I would spot his face on my way back home every day. It was Vati who would prepare lunch or take me to a restaurant, to indulge in special treats. In the afternoons, he would sometimes take me to a Cafe--one on every corner--or to play pool. On those special occasions, I would stand on a soft-drink box to reach the pool table.

I remember one day in winter. Daddy was trying to fit my short, red, curly hair into tiny, almost unexistent pig-tails. I was already wearing my coat, ready for the street, facing the window, while Daddy was sitting on the edge of the bed, achieving the impossible. I asked if he would always be with me. He said that he would do his best--but that life and death were not in his hands. I cried looking into the gray winter sky. I thought that I would die before him, so as to be spared the pain.

Vati would turn 82 today. He has been gone for more than 16 years now. In total, we shared only 11 years. The last time I saw him, he said: What are all those years compared to eternity? Only a glimpse, a moment. Don't feel sad because of the time we are not together...

I still remember his soft and serene voice. And I still look forward to eternity.

But I no longer have pig-tails.

In awe...

...after walking in the sun, gazing at ancient monumental structures in Luxor.

The Racoon says that we all must have belonged to this magnific culture, at some point during our endless coming and going through time and space. I am breathless. It is so stunningly beautiful. The color of the desert, and of the sun when it hits the desert-shaded stone. The overwhelming size, the overwhelming history. The stories of lives past and gone, of cultures buried in the sand.

This is one of the trips I had on my list of ten most-wanted life experiences. Karnak, Luxor, the Valley of the Kings. We could not go to Abu Simbel and Alexandria. And we did not spend a night in the Sahara. This means that half of the dream is still out there, waiting to be lived.

But the beginning, if we could dare call it that, has been astounding.

We are just tiny particles in the history of life, a tiny kernel of sand in the midst of the Sahara...

Got Beer?

This is hilarious! And it might as well be true, at least in terms of the positive effects of beer... Of course, the negative ones are conveniently forgotten.

But I LOVE Peta!!! In my next life, I definitely want to be a radical, unforgiving PETA activist, spraying with green paint the fur coats on the Upper East side, rallying against experiments on animals, and just stubbornly confronting people that believe that animals are here for us, at our disposal.

Meanwhile, I am getting ready for yet another plane... Egypt is waiting.

On a Monday like today, six years ago...

...Mamichi died. After months of struggle mixed with the unique opportunity to let go and seize every single moment to find a way back to peace, to her daughter, to her own light, Mamichi left in silence.

That day was not as sunny as today. It was colder.
I hadn't had a good night's sleep for months.
Camila could run and jump up high--unstoppable.
Sunari was not yet born--not even in our fantasies.
I still had a relationship with my siblings.
Margot was a meaningful name in my life.
I was at home at Fundar--my work, my family, my everything.
I had Waldo, my dearest brother, as a flatmate.
The racoon was already the light of my life.
My second mum was sitting by my side, like today.
My grand mum was still here, in silence, watching Mamichi slip away.

So much got into perspective during those months...
I learned that caring for your loved ones, and helping them to go, is an honor.
I learned that even our most informed ideas about what we think that we signify for our parents are often wrong.
I learned that you don't have to do anything just because it is your family.
I learned that love and trust are what makes you grow and develop as a creature of light.
I learned that all the stress and unhappiness of our every-day life is a futile waste of time.
That feelings like jealousy, the idea of love as a possession, make no sense.

I have been ignoring these learnings lately. Bogged down by conflict, lack of satisfaction, the longing for recognition and the imminent build-up of implosion, I have felt small and troubled. Judged. Incapable of giving. Locked up in darkness. Not free.

Today makes me remember that we all are so much more than this. I want to go back to the version of myself that is deeper, more connected, and more grounded in what matters.

The lack of inhibitions...

"I'll be your girl if you say it's a gift, and give me some more of your drugs... I'll be your pet if you just say it's a gift..."

Those are the lyrics from a Fiona Apple song that I am listening to, while I am trying to think about our way forward in Pakistan, and how to overcome the hurdles in Brazil.

What does it take to get you to the place where you would say something like that? Does it really take THAT much? Or does it just require the right moment? The right place? The willingness to let go of the artificial boundaries imposed by conventional language? Is it just a matter of wanting to free your mind? Of insanity? Addiction?

I often think that I am impossibly indiscrete... A dear, dear friend taught me a good, good lesson several years ago about what to say and what not to say. I have improved a lot in some ways, by not sharing information that should only be mine or that have been shared by someone else with me. The lack of discretion comes on another level. There are just things that I cannot NOT say about what I feel, think, believe or hope for --directly into the face of the person that triggers the feeling, thought or hope.

The chicken once told me that I am brutally honest. I am wondering if, more than honesty, this is some kind of a handicap. Is there something that other people have, and that I lack, in terms of being able to distinguish between thoughts that I should keep to myself and thoughts that I should share with the directly involved persons? Is there some kind of filter that is missing?

You, the readers of the cosmic mouse, must have first-hand experience in this peculiar character trait of mine. Please, VOTE!!!!! Let me know what you think! Why am I doing this? What is missing in my mental structure that causes this lack of verbal inhibitions?

Looking forward to it...

There are two things on my mind that I would like to write about... I am not sure I will be able to do it, though.

I know that this blog has served as my diary. For one reason or another, I have chosen this space to open up, and write down very personal thoughts and feelings, mixed up with short snippets from my globe-trotting state of life and occasional entries about my favorite creatures: animals. Sometimes I speak about my professional life. Today, I could do all of the above.

I am in Washington DC. One more time. Another meeting. Loved ones around. Tension--positive and negative. This has been one hell of a roller coaster of a year. So many things have happened. Many of them exciting. Many of them frustrating. This meeting has the potential to be all of that. I am experiencing it as a soothing process. I am actually feeling better as it goes on. I am feeling a bit more connected. Belonging. Part of.

I ask myself what is going wrong with my professional life... Why is working here such an insurmountable challenge? Why do I feel so much conflict? Why do I feel unhappy? Unappreciated? I clearly work too much. I clearly waste time on things that should not consume so many hours. While that is annoying, it is not the answer to the main question.

I am 1000% committed to this work, and love what I do. Why am I unhappy? What is it, that is not going in the right direction? Any suggestions shall be appreciated...