I feel creativity buzzing inside everything: 12 de diciembre de 2014
My brain is starting to clog with inspiration and excitement. I feel so attractive here, so surrounded by beautiful, fashionable people that look at me like I am one of them, another work of art to be respected and admired. I feel creativity buzzing inside everything.
The people make constant, consistent eye contact. An attractive 20-something with a colorful tattoo on his left forearm walks towards me carrying a bag of groceries as I sit on the steps outside our couchsurfing host’s apartment, armed with a pen as usual and fresh out of the shower. I meet his eye, but only flitter on it for a half-second, too nervous to initiate contact.
It’d be so easy to take that next step, to let boldness and uninhibitedness lead the way. Not to completely forget my obsession with psychology and what other people are thinking, but to use it in another manner. To open doors previously locked or hidden behind tall bookshelves and ancient mothball-ridden sheets.
I could see air pebbles of curiosity bubbling to the surface in his blue-green orbs, my own cat eyes pierced by the aim of tiny dark pupils, enough energy in that stare to predict an entire future history together, as lovers, as friends, a relation as muse.
Every person is a potential relationship you could benefit from, psychologically, mentally, personally. I see everyone as someone that could help me know myself more, someone that can help me generate new ideas, tell stories that before were only planted seeds, but now a spurt of green has bristled in the clear air, unfolded into new life, vibrant with positive energy, and I can already feel a brightness bursting in my chest. And we don’t even have real weed, which was always the generator of such positive thinking.
I feel my relationship with art was starving. Before I was not a starving artist, I think maybe I will never be so cliché. Before I was rather a person starved intellectually; there was no art! There was no stimulus, and I began to fade, regress into that insidious perception that I am not a real person, only an empty tortoise shell, a house up for sale, a candle burning in the attic, a sand dollar broken in two like stale crackers on the kitchen table and nobody home.
Now my heart beats faster, my blood a brighter, shinier red, pulsating heavily at precise points in the body. I want to run, put my running shoes on and take flight into that unknown abyss, that passage into another perception, another road that could never be “wrong,” only infinitely different and crafty and elusive.
My challenge is to capture the vibe, ride the wave, always trying to learn how to manage it more efficiently, until I feel so wise, so able, so free, that nothing could tear me apart, tear me away from my own central equilibrium, confident and steady, a lifetime warranty.
It is so easy to find beauty here. It’s the mix of cultures, I’m sure of it. Only this section of the street is shimmering with energy. The sign of a Chinese restaurant has a drawing of a red face, tattooed with spirals and fat curvy lines in black ink. Buses, taxis, motorcycles brush past honking at pedestrians jumping the walk-sign gun. Children and teens in school uniforms laughing and pushing each other, women and girls in platform shoes and cotton pants with eastern-inspired outlines of elephants and flowers.
The wind breezes through and the sun reflects from thousands, millions even, of green leaves, jumping, surging, breathing in our chemicals and changing them into oxygen. I imagine that oxygen steaming heavily from living green, invisible to the human eye, like misty sunrises in meadows outlined by moss covered trees, the sun a foggy yellow blur. Cold air mixes with warm watercolors, humidity coating my lungs until I wake up and remember it was all a dream. A dream of flying through fire, breathing underwater, touching your mind with mine.
The Argentinean accent is riddled with passion, emotion thick like homemade bread cut in heavy slices with butter a small slab melting into a cushion of moist cake. Quiero explorar el mundo con mis sentidos. Quiero vivir una vida simple, tranquila, divertida, abierta, cariñosa. Quiero ser capaz de aceptar a cada persona. Quiero ser amable, simpática, divertida, graciosa, sensible, inteligente, creativa, sensual, frágil, fuerte, sutil, esquiva. Quiero comenzar de vivir así, como todos los estudiantes y artistas de Córdoba.
Llegamos a Córdoba el 11 de la noche, al departamento de la Ximena, una amiga de Couchsurfing. Es muy difícil entender para mí, pero es buena onda y graciosa. Su departamento tiene un patio chiquitito, y ella tiene una perra que se llama Mora Kim.
Esa noche fuimos a un bar que se llama Pétalos que tiene dibujos muy grandes en todas partes, con muchos colores. Era bueno pero no quería bailar mucho. Me sentí muy desordenada en la mente porque no había tenido tiempo para despejarme, para escribir, lavarme el pelo, estar sola.
Conocí a mucha gente, los chicos del grupo de la Ximena. Chicas bonitas, hombres gay, todos sociables, simpáticos. Conocí a una chica que se llama Ariadna, y me gustó tanto su onda. Quiero encontrar amigas! Estoy tan aburrida con hombres, o por lo menos hombres siempre, todo el tiempo. No entienden nada.
He estado hablando tanto en español, pero esa noche la gente intentaba hablarme en inglés, y me molestó mucho. A veces me ayudó porque la música era tan fuerte que no podía escuchar o entender nada, especialmente con el acento de Córdoba, pero la mayoría del tiempo me podía comunicar.
Anoche fuimos a un bar electrónico que se llama Un Buen Dios, y me encantó! Creo que prefiero bailar con música así.
Ahora tengo una hora antes de conocer a la gente del hostel donde busqué trabajo. Estoy nerviosa, estoy tan emocionada, no puedo pensar en nada más. Tantas cosas han pasado en dos días que estoy segura que voy a quedarme acá por mucho tiempo. ¡Nunca me voy a aburrir!