Shiny best friends

Every girl's dream. The beautiful little box, with that so characteristic shade of blue, the perfect white bow. Since I first knew that "Tiffany blue" meant so much, I always wanted to know how it feels to get engaged with such a beautiful and meaningful object. A diamond ring. I've written about it before, they say it is necessary to propose with diamonds, in order to "close the deal".

If it's not the Tiffany box, then, my other dream is to get engaged at home, eating Chinese food, on my sweatpants and my trousers. The way I naturally look. No make-up, no stilettos, just me. They way my husband-to be should love me the most. But then, after the emotive moment, after the hugging, after realizing that you are actually spending the rest of your life with that person, he'll say the perfect words -"I'm taking you tomorrow to Cartier so we can choose your engagement ring"-. What a dream...

An $8,500 dream. (Like the ring shown above).

An engagement ring stands up for commitment, love, strength, flawless beauty. Diamonds, "a girl's best friend".

If diamonds are girl's best friend, and we purchase them for such a ridiculous price, how come, that the person that worked so hard to get it on the first place, wins $1 per day, or just the lunch of the day. Who is that miner's best friend?

Diamonds stand up for what? For wars, for suffering, for child soldiers, for amnesty to the war criminals. They stand up for lost hands and limbs, they stand for mutilated clitoris and savaged women. Diamonds stands for suffering and nonesense conflicts.
Even though the international community has agreed on the Kimberley process, that ensures that diamonds do not fund violence, that obliges major distributors (such as Tiffany & Co. and Cartier) to guarantee that their diamonds are not bloody, there is still a lot to do, mainly because much smaller distributors don't seem able to make this guarantee, thus, the problems maintains.

Miners should be educated on the value of their work and payed properly for it. It is absurd that a mine that has extracted these very same, now Kimberley processed diamonds for the past 50 years, it is the poorest, the hopeless, the same slavery camp it was when the war was at the peak....

So, I think I no longer dream about the Tiffany box, or the Cartier shopping, I dream with diamonds ensuring development, health, hope and progress... I dream with miners paid properly, I dream with no more wars financed by diamonds.

El objeto del deseo...

Birkin Bag

I fell for...

I fell in love with the Cow. Yes, the cow. I fell in love with two McDonald's, with electricity shortages, with volcanoes. I wanted those three children although I told you I only wanted two. I wanted them to have your eyes and your hands, my nose and my hair and your wit. I never wanted my children to have anyone else's wit until I met you.

I fell in love as well with India and Australia, I liked the idea of eating worms and who knows what else you'll make me eat, I fell in love with you when you told me that you see women as Edward Cullen sees Bella Swan, and I, for a moment thought I would see your skin shining under the sun, someday, any day, because you were so unreal. You are still unreal to me.

I fell in love with the uncertain future. A dangerous thing to do, because one tends to idealize future, and that is why I also fell in love with the idea that you wouldn't mind to know and to bear that I am a major weeper and that I am not willing to change it, I even thought you would consider it cute.

I am in love with the idea of telling Julián that -"I wrote this for your father when I was 19 years old, when I was already sure that we were made for each other"-.

I fell in love with you, because you set foot on what three different persons in three different continents told you. And I believed you. What if it wasn't me? What if you thought it fit but now you realize that it wasn't me? That I am not the one? Where does that leave me?

How come is it that I fell in love with so many having so little?

And I realized again, that I didn't fell in love with you, but with the idea of you.

Piernas, ¿para qué os quiero?

¿Qué pasa cuando consigues que tu misma idea de ser, de ser tú, es derrumbada por unas pocas pero bien empleadas palabras? Qué pasa cuando creías que estabas en lo correcto, que estabas relativamente bien, que quizás no era lo mejor, pero se podía trabajar con eso.

Pero luego, algo pasa, un evento que derrumba tu ficticia estabilidad, te das cuenta de que el material es inservible y entonces te pones a dar brincos en el agua a ver si logras caminar fuera de ella en vez de aprender a nadar. Conozco gente que aprendió a nadar porque los lanzaron al mar. Y aprendieron a nadar por mero instinto de supervivencia.

Seguramente es así en todo. Sobrevivir, pero a veces tu método de supervivencia no está del todo bien, porque conviene mejor nadar que saltar. La actividad física de intentar saltar dentro del agua, te puede mantener a flote por un tiempo, hasta que al fin la iluminación llega, producto de la desesperación. O no llega la iluminación, te ahogas. A causa de la desesperación, también.

Pero si no puedes sentir desesperación, entonces ¿será que se puede aprender a nadar? ¿Cuál será el impulso para conseguir salir del error?

¿Se tiene que estar al borde de la muerte para aprender a nadar?

Todo en sentido figurado, claro está.
Gracias.