*-. Muchacha pero vamos a conseguirte un novio... .-*

After some serious pondering, I decided to tackle the issue of being a single woman. Por un lado, estoy consciente de la idea de que es uno mismo que tiene que estar comodo con la idea. Porque rayos, si no te sientes bien contigo mismo, que crees, que estar con otra persona va a arreglar este problema? Pues resulta, lamentablemente, que no. Por otro lado, la gente/sociedad no ayuda para nada. Tengo como 2 anios y medio soltera, y es imposible yo saber cuantas veces la gente me ha mirado con incredulidad al enterarse de mi status. Lo he oido todo. "Es tu decision, verdad?" "Como va a ser, una muchacha bonita, inteligente..." "Tu vera, que pronto aparece alguien". Like being single is some sort of sin, some sort of disease. No voy a negar que de vez en cuando, jangueando con panas that are currently with their other half, me da cosita. Ganas de tener alguien ahi, some sort of stability, someone to cuddle with. Pero la triste realidad es que, muchisimas personas, luego de estar en una relacion, no tienen la felicidad que pensaron les llegaria automaticamente. Hay muchas variables que influyen en que uno este happy y tranquilo en una relacion. En eso no nos vamos a meter ahora. El punto es que te miran de tal forma cuando uno esta soltero, que cualquiera pensaria que beeing with someone is comparable to hitting the jackpot. Asi que para todos aquellos que se preocupan por mi (tias, abuelas y demas familiares aside), les digo que dejen eso. Ahora mismo entiendo que estoy mejor asi. A mi hermanita se lo perdono que me pregunte cuando me voy a casar. Hey, she's only 8 years old. But for the rest of you, pl-eez. Give it a rest. No tengo el estres de tener una relacion a larga distancia (que yeah, may or may not work, pero muchas veces sigue siendo un estres). Tengo amigos alla en DR, aqui en Philly. I go out, I have fun. I even focus on my studies once in a while. Thus, for time being, im very much at peace with my current status. Thank you :)

*-. Caring .-*

Esto es un excerpt, o como se diga, de un libro que lei recientemente. Aunque el pedazo que transcribo a continuacion es pretty much about the definition of quality sex, es solo una partecita del libro que me gusto, y no es el tema central de la obra. Su estilo me encanta. It's intellectually stimulating, y al mismo tiempo funky and pretty much philosophical enough to keep you both hooked and entertained. Les presento paginas 107 y 108 de "Still Life With Woodpecker", de Tom Robbins. This is an excerpt, or however you say it, of a book I read recently. Even though the part im transcribing is pretty much about the definition of quality sex, it's just a little part of the book that I liked, and is not the main theme of the book. I love his style. It's intellectually stimulating, and at the same time funky and pretty much philosophical enough to keep you both hooked and entertained. I present to you pages 107 and 108 of "Still Life with Woodpecker", by Tom Robbins. "There is lovemaking that is bad for a person, just as there is eating that is bad. That boysenberry cream pie from the Thrift-E Mart may appear inviting, may, in fact, cause all nine hundred taste buds to carol from the tongue, but in the end, the sugars, the additives, the empty calories clog arteries, disrupt cells, generate fat, and rot teeth. Even potentially nourishing foods can be improperly prepared. There are wrong combinations and improper preparations in sex as well. Yes, one must prepare for a fuck-the way an enlightened priest prepares to celebrate mass, the way a great matador prepares for the ring: with intensification, with purification, with a conscious summoning of sacred power. And even that won't work if the ingredients are poorly matched: oyesters are delectable, so are strawberries, but mashed together... (?!) Every nutritious sexual recipe calls for at least a pinch of love, and the fucks that rate four-star rankings from both gourmets and health-food nuts use cupfuls. Not that sex should be regarded as therapeutic or to be taken for medicinal purposes-only a dullard would hang such a millstone around the nibbled neck of a lay-but to approach sex carelessly, shallowly, with detachment and wihout warmth is to dine night after night in erotic greasy spoons. In time, one's palate will become insensitive, one will suffer (without knowing it) emotional malnutrition, the skin of the soul will fester with scurvy, the teeth of the heart will decay. Neither duration nor proclamation of commitment is necessarilythe measure-there are ephemereal explosions of passion between strangers that make more erotic sense than many lengthy marriages, there are one-night stands in Jersey City more glorious than six-months affairs in Paris- but finally there is a commitment, however brief; a purity, however threatened; a vulnerability, however concealed; a generosity of spirit, however marbled with need; an honest caring, however singed by lust, that must be present if couplings are to be salubrious and not slow poison. Having consumed for years only junk-food sex (some of it undeniably finger-licking good), Princess Leigh-Cheri was now the recipient, in abundance, of both lusciousness and nourishment, and needless to say, it was agreeing with her."