My good friend Juju had the idea of attending midnight mass on Christmas Eve. Even though I didn’t fancy the idea at first, I decided to give it a go, for all times’ sake. I was raised a Catholic, and it wasn’t until a few years ago that I decided I no longer wanted to belong to an organized religion or a religion at all for that matter. Revisiting old customs sounded like a good way of re-connecting with the old self, and somehow, with my family abroad.
Juju was looking forward to the smell of the church; we both anticipated a lot of myrrh and frankincense in the air. We weren’t disappointed. We entered the very crowded church in the middle of the Liturgy. Standing in the back, it didn’t take too long for me to start revisiting the old emotions that so-familiar situation would bring about. The priest, the crowd, the smell, and all the other elements within the church no longer held importance in my head. I quickly decided that nothing that would come out of the bishop’s mouth could resonate with me; because it simply didn’t. My ears were no longer trained to separate echo from words and make sense of it all. I simply stood there, thinking that this portion of mass could easily be compared to the lecture you would receive from a professor at university. Although this kind of lecture went one-way only. People would nod their heads in agreement and reply with a very-much recited answer. What was the meaning of all this? Indoctrination. What was the purpose of all this? Control.
Throughout mass, Juju and I would share church-related anecdotes with each other, which reminded me how boring mass could be. In an instant, I realized how much I dreaded going to mass when I was younger, and that I had always thought of it as the weekly sacrifice one would make for Jesus Our Lord and for a chance at winning a spot in heaven. Having no Lord and no heaven to offer sacrifices to, I felt relieved that I no longer belonged to (as Juju would call it) “the communal theatrical event”. Above all, I felt free because I could choose to not believe in all the things the bishop would dare to say. I was no longer oppressed by unquestionable beliefs and cardboard-stiff rituals. Although the mass I witnessed was nothing new, the way I looked at it was.
Midnight mass and the revival of everything old
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Having faith in people is underrated. Human connections and relationships thrive on the faith and trust one may put in them.
Chronicles of an unadventurous life
This can be summarized in: Lack of motivation, a constant lack of energy, lack of inspiration, lack of things to look forward to. Lack of everything. My life is too damn “calm” (not to be confused with “boring”). I need a shot of life, and I need it now.
I want an apology
I don’t think I’m asking for anything weird or extremely complicated here. I simply want an apology from those who have carelessly jeopardized a very important aspect of my life by forgetting to perform a very simple check on my student records. To the staff from the International Student Services office at Park University:
JUST ADMIT IT WHEN YOU DROP THE BALL. Sincerely, Me.
GSS
I pulled the data set for the GSS (General Social Survey) of 2006 to practice with the SPSS for my statistics class, and suddenly realized that I was reading the personal opinions on marihuana legalization, abortion, gun laws, job satisfaction, politics, euthanasia, sex life, child rearing, religion, TV watching, and other social issues/trends of those who participated in this survey five years ago. I felt something of a peeping Tom.
Maria Elena Walsh (1930-2011)
Maria Elena Walsh copo las habitaciones de mi casa. Si no conozco las letras de todas sus canciones, al menos reconozco la musica. Las bailaba, las cantaba, las dibujaba, nombraba mascotas por los personajes de sus canciones. Una genia, llego a hacer musica para ninos con mensajes que hablaban de la importancia de la educacion y salud publica, el desastre que es la politica, condenando al racismo y la ignorancia, y cuantas otras cosas mas. Los ninos repetiamos las letras sin saber realmente lo que estabamos diciendo….hasta que te ponias a pensar y te dabas cuenta de que lo unico que ella queria sacar a la luz era la verdad de la milanesa.
Como la Negra Sosa, Maria Elena Walsh dejo su huella en lo mas profundo de muchas (muchas) generaciones de Argentinos y, por que no, Latinoamericanos. Quiero recordarla, porque cada vez que la escucho, escucho los sonidos de mi infancia, una de las que ya no existe. Maria Elena, te llevare siempre en mi corazon. 
Navidad 2010
Cada anio, pienso que puedo imitar la celebracion de Navidad estando lejos de mi familia. Cada ano, se hace mas dificil sentir lo que sentia cuando nos reuniamos toda la familia, y cada anio mi cuerpo se siente como tazon vacio por dentro. La nostalgia socaba bien profundo.
Mi viejo es una persona que no demuestra mucho sus sentimientos. En algun momento tuve una relacion muy buena con el, pero a medida que fui creciendo esa relacion cambio. De a poco, viejos resentimientos se van dejando de lado para dar paso a una relacion mas humana y mas madura. Hoy mi viejo me escribio un mensaje:
“Que en estas fiestas, la magia sea tu mejor traje, tu sonrisa el mejor regalo, tus ojos el mejor destino, y tu felicidad mi mejor deseo.”
Siento que ya no puedo pasar una Navidad mas lejos de ellos. Ellos son los unicos que continuan dandome fuerza y creyendo en mi. Son los que me han alentado a creer en mis suenios y han soportado mis ideas desde siempre. Los extranio mucho, y deseo de todo corazon que algun dia pueda estar al lado de ellos levantando la copa a la medianoche.
Feliz Navidad para quien lea este post.
The Death Penalty Paradox
If you support the death penalty, and only one single innocent person is killed–and killing an innocent person is murder–then you become murderers; so, you also deserve to be killed. This is the paradox of the death penalty and you cannot avoid this paradox.
Ágnes Heller
Finally, he died.
Although I would have liked to see him die in a different way. If there’s a Heaven, I hope you burn in Hell.
