Todo es tan monótono (otra vez)


de las cosas que le saturan a una la paciencia

Me gusta hacer listas. Figúrense:
  • Me tiene muy, muy pero muy harta, hasta límites insospechados la gente que se dedica a cagar vidas ajenas. Me refiero a aquellos que roban y matan y no dejan de arruinar a los demás. He dicho.
  • Mis padres peleando.
  • La profesora de francés (en mucha menor medida)


¿Alguna vez se sintieron estafados? Buenas noches.

Me ponen de mal humor los ritos de antes de ir a dormir: cepillarme los dientes, ponerme la crema, aparatos, atarme el pelo, subir a la cama. Cuando me da sueño quiero acostarme y listo, sin pijamas ni nada.
Además, siempre que termino de lavarme los dientes encuentro algo rico para comer.



A diferencia de los paradigmas científicos, la madurez sí es mesurable.



'It was true that he had no memories of anything greatly different. In any time that he could accurately remember, there had never been quite enough to eat, one had never had socks or underclothes that were not full of holes, furniture had always been battered and rickety, rooms underheated, tube trains crowded, houses falling to pieces, bread dark− coloured, tea a rarity, coffee filthy−tasting, cigarettes insufficient nothing cheap and plentiful except synthetic gin. And though, of course, it grew worse as one's body aged, was it not a sign that this was not the natural order of things, if one's heart sickened at the discomfort and dirt and scarcity, the interminable winters, the stickiness of one's socks, the lifts that never worked, the cold water, the gritty soap, the cigarettes that came to pieces, the food with its strange evil tastes? Why should one feel it to be intolerable unless one had some kind of ancestral memory that things had once been different?'

1984, George Orwell


Obstacle 1

It's different now that I'm poor and aging. I'll never see this face again.