<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597</id><updated>2012-02-16T03:44:53.259-08:00</updated><title type='text'>...Cicuta Or Undergrowth?... (English Version)</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597.post-2148308472301870569</id><published>2008-08-05T08:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T08:21:35.395-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#940474;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;...Memory Or Imagination?...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SJhvr6j8meI/AAAAAAAAAdw/qybne2aMnq0/s1600-h/19.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231053767435917794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SJhvr6j8meI/AAAAAAAAAdw/qybne2aMnq0/s320/19.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vYnAxLmJsb2dnZXIuY29tL19OR0FnVWZJTVB1TS9SZmRUYWFLN0cxSS9BQUFBQUFBQUFKZy9SRWtlVDdkc3Aydy9zMTYwMC1oLzAzMDNfQ2FsbWlsbG8uanBn"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Very often I have the idea of having experienced a lot of particular situations that suddenly just go through my eyes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Sometimes the memory is so clear, that I can even revive sensations of heat or cold, remembering textures, smells, sounds and emotions... Again, it is often just the "idea" of having lived these particular situations... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And it's that, on some occasions, I forget completely about the context of these situations, so I realise that these memories were really things that happened to someone else, things that others have told me, or things that I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;actually saw in a movie, or that I dreamed about or I read about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And it also happens to me, that sometimes I forget so easily things that seem to be unforgettable. But that’s appreciated... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;And the thing is that body and mind are so wise. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Anyway, I remember (and this is a memory... I know), that when a was about 5 years old, I had a recurrent nightmare. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I was walking down the street that was outside of my house (when I was 5, I thought that was a great avenue), and could saw in the corner, perpendicular to the street where I was, these tremendous, huge running animals!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I was quiet, hidden behind a tree looking at them paralysed. And suddenly, one of them was looking at me directly, walking slowly toward to the place where I was hidden and the rest of the beasts began to follow him running after me until PAF! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;I woke up frightened and almost crying...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The curious thing about this is that later, much bigger, when I was around 12 years old, I understood that these animals that I thought I was invented when I was 5 years old(Maybe even younger), were MAMMOTHS!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How is it possible that I had this recurrent nightmare with animals that I had never seen in my short life? At the age of five, I hardly know about Tom and Jerry, the stories I know about was the kind of Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella, and I didn’t had favorite books because I couldn’t read yet!!!... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am sure that those things were mammoths... And I remember the panic they caused me in my dreams, (always the same dream). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;So I imagine those animals that just for coincidence looked like mammoths, inventing nightmares with these monsters as protagonists?... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Or somehow I inherited memories of when mammoths still existed on this planet?... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Memory inherited or acquired, assertive creative imagination or usurped memories, somehow there’s a personal memory file on each one of us. Sometimes it is good to blow the dust and dig up stories to revive and save, or simply discard and forget... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Cause sometimes it’s a good thing to not remember... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;and fall into oblivion and start from scratch...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;All over again...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3067649806556052597-2148308472301870569?l=cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/2148308472301870569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3067649806556052597&amp;postID=2148308472301870569&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/2148308472301870569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/2148308472301870569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-post_05.html' title=''/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SJhvr6j8meI/AAAAAAAAAdw/qybne2aMnq0/s72-c/19.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597.post-8322266220467811664</id><published>2008-08-05T07:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T08:00:26.026-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#940474;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;...Empirical Or Theoretical?...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SJhoB4daQNI/AAAAAAAAAdo/Xpy5knldXIA/s1600-h/26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231045348735729874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SJhoB4daQNI/AAAAAAAAAdo/Xpy5knldXIA/s320/26.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;I woke up with a ray of sun pointing directly to my nose. The window was closed and the curtain made of wood sticks allowed let in the light from the little backyard. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I opened my eyes and I felt so safe among my pink sheets, my soft pillow, my teddy bears and my dog always faithfully sleeping at the foot of my bed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;And the fact is that at age of 12 you always sleep better. And you wake up better too... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I had no cold or heat, I felt so good. As I didn’t want to get off the bed yet, I decided to watch the trend of that sunshine ray that was warming up the tip of my nose. It was moving slowly. I could notice it because that stain of light that drew on the wall was moving slowly toward to the desk.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And then, the stain of light got darker.&lt;br /&gt;Between the sunshine ray and the wall, a glass full of Canada Dry that I had left the night before on my bedside table was just in the middle. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;How beautiful is looking to a glass full of Canada Dry crossed by a sunshine ray! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started to look how the light was passing through the glass, through the liquid and through the gas bubbles. And despite all of these obstacles, I still could see the little stain of light draw in the wall... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And that’s how watching a glass full of Canada Dry lightned by a sunshine ray, I discovered a clock.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could see that from the bottom of the glass, gas bubbles were raised rapidly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;It seemed to be "manufactured" a new bubble in the bottom of the glass, from time to time...FROM TIME TO TIME!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And always got generated a new bubble bigger than the rest from the same place... FROM THE SAME PLACE! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I discovered that exactly every 8 seconds, a new bubble was produced from the same place and came up to the surface of the glass to finally disappear... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;The born, life and death of a bubble, lasted exactly 8 seconds... So I was staring bubbles until the sun ray dissapeared. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;I rubbed my eyes, stretched my body, did some bed kicking, yawned a little, woke up my dog, and I went to eat breakfast.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;When the variables are constant, the result is constant. Today I decide blow the glass and take advantage of the short life of the bubbles. Today I yawn, I stretch and I get off the bed. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;(... And all thank to a sunshine ray, not moonlight ray...)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3067649806556052597-8322266220467811664?l=cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/8322266220467811664/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3067649806556052597&amp;postID=8322266220467811664&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/8322266220467811664'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/8322266220467811664'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/2008/08/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SJhoB4daQNI/AAAAAAAAAdo/Xpy5knldXIA/s72-c/26.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597.post-5641190596340755760</id><published>2008-07-07T17:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T17:13:32.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;color:#940474;"&gt;... Opossite Poles Or Soul Mates?...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SHKuX0zjkJI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/vlBHvJe5eMQ/s1600-h/27.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5220426642410934418" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SHKuX0zjkJI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/vlBHvJe5eMQ/s320/27.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;What seduce you from a person? What’s that thing that makes you feel deep love for someone? Either we all have different tastes, there is always a common denominator for both men and women. It is so important the sense of humor, the physical attraction, the mental connection, to feel admiration ... but ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do we admire and feel attracted to that person cause he or she have virtues that we want to have? or, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;Do we admire and feel attracted to that person cause he or she reflects the same thing that we are? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;There are patterns. Each one of us (and that’s what make us different from others) is being attracted by a certain "kind of person" (There might be characteristics that make us feel attracted by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;Identifying = Soul Mate or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;Complementation = Opposite Pole).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And as we gain experience in dating, we realised several things. For example, that the next partner should have a little bit of the good things that the ex’s had, adding a new good aspects of his own personality, so we can say that each new partner brings something new and different into your life (that’s what makes us be unique and unrepeatable, and keeps us in the seduction game until death).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And this is why we demand more to the coming partner and every time we get more complicated to accept the new individual (at least it should be this way, it’s important to try leveling up). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Then we understand why is increasingly more difficult to take the risk and get involved in a new relationship. And is because everytime we’re more demanding, we go on the defensive, every time our hearts erode a bit more, so every time we hide a bit more too. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;For example, if the ex partner "passed" with 4 of the requirements that we ask for but failed in 10, then the next partner must fulfil with the same 4 requirements and with at least 1 of those 10 failed before ... the problem is that the requirements imposed by us to our "partner projects " is a spiral that is increasing steadily, and that only stops when: &lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A) To have the enormous luck to find somone that actually pass the requirements test placed, before the list continues growing (Situation extremely difficult to come true, considering that this "partner project" also comes with a questionnaire in the backpack full of requirements for you)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;B) Find someone who makes us forget about how important those requirements were for us without further explanation. How? With magic. (Some call that thing Love). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that happens suddenly, just from an instant to another, and it doesn’t matter (not anymore) that this new guy is not passing those stupid requirements that we asked for before.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What make us ignore the very stringent requirements list that we accumulated during years of experience? It’s not known. What happens in this very tiny moment is one of the mysteries of mankind. The only thing we know is that requirements and conditions and demands just dissapear. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;It sounds very complex to say, but apparently these magical situations happens a lot. Each time I am amazed to find a bunch of fulminant magic spells cases. And I am surprised because I think that it’s so hard that two persons in this whole world find and cause the same magic to eachother, in an accurate instant and with such cosmic synchronicity ... just thinking about probabilities and what are the chances that something like that could actually happend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;and so...I feel amazed. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I am not clear whether it’s better Opossite Poles Or Soul Mates, because I still haven’t being bewitched or neither haven't done some magic spell in someone (at least, not completely).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just can say that when you recognize yourself into another, is frightening. It is frightening because is the first time that you can see your own image so clearly.&lt;br /&gt;But it’s even more frightening if at the same time, he sees his image in you. Because even though we are the same, we move away infinitely repeating our identical image in a parallel universe filled with symmetrical reflections, confusing us and making us lose forever the ability to identify what is identical to the opposite, the opposite of what’s complementary, the complementary of what’s unique, and unique from what’s identical... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;As happens when you put a mirror in front of another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3067649806556052597-5641190596340755760?l=cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/5641190596340755760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3067649806556052597&amp;postID=5641190596340755760&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/5641190596340755760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/5641190596340755760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/2008/07/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SHKuX0zjkJI/AAAAAAAAAZQ/vlBHvJe5eMQ/s72-c/27.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597.post-444782662184504913</id><published>2008-05-31T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T19:22:27.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;color:#940474;"&gt;...A White Lie Or A Black Truth?...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SEGVcXz7xgI/AAAAAAAAAYo/eGmUNQK0qdg/s1600-h/29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206606958877722114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SEGVcXz7xgI/AAAAAAAAAYo/eGmUNQK0qdg/s320/29.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;We’re images, soul projections reflected in a body. We’re concepts. We are a TV color screen. We are a sign of Coca-Cola in Alameda street, a political propaganda, a window through which we can show us as we are.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;But as in everything, we might be wrong delivering a mistaken image of ourselves. If the window is dirty, if the sign does not have a legible typography or if the TV program is in Mandarin Chinese, then the projection that we are delivering is not clear, giving to others a wrong idea of what we really are and there is a perceptual error in the receiver’s message. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And I wonder: Are we responsible for showing us as we are, or are we responsible of how we perceive the rest? And I think to some extent, we should take charge of both aspects. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;First: Keep the window clean. No matter what you are showing through it is just shit. Because it’s no longer my responsibility, now is the perceiver who must decide if he wants to keep looking through or not...In this case, we are liable to be as clear and honest as possible, emitting a message, concept or image related to ourselves. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;On the other hand, if I go to China, I can not require that they put signs in Spanish. My duty is to learn Mandarin Chinese to understand the signs and not miss on the streets... In this case, we are responsible for what we perceive from others. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;This is what happens to the White Lies and Black Truths. Opting for the first one to avoid the second one (and a guilty conscience for showing the ugly and painful truth), or opting for the second one to avoid the first one (and the guilty conscience for having lied). &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;So, what is White Lie use for? To decorate and manipulate the perception that one individual may have respect to myself, avoiding the painful reality and keeping the ugly side of our own personality hidden from the world. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;What is Black Truth use for? To maintain control over ourself’s conscience and standards of rectitude contained in the personnel scale of values without showing any regard to the sensitivities of others, making us 100% responsible for the shown message, and the pain caused. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In other words, it’s not enough to not telling the truth, but also we need to look better to others than we really are, maintaining or trying to at least, rest assured with our own conscience, that it could be even darker than the Black Truth (Although as I just mentioned, the intention of the Black Truth, is precisely to maintain a clear conscience).&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when you choose (as a sender of the message) the White Lie, you feel rotten on the inside because your conscience is so guilty for not telling the truth, and keep to yourself vital information of your own personality. And when you find out (now as a receiver) about the White Lie and comes up Black Truth, you assume that the person changed because your perception was manipulated vilely (of course, they didn’t want you to see the ugly side of the image).&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And if you choose the Black Truth you feel relaxed for not lying, but too cruel to face again all those who were dragged by you to maintain your position and continue with your honest business. And when, as the receiver you find out about Black Truth, it hurts and you perceive that person as an intrigue weaver, when his first intention was precisely to do the right thing, to follow the option that sounded more consistent with the basic values to interact peacefully with other individuals in this treacherous world.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;SURPRISE! In both situations, what changed was your PERCEPTION about that person, not THAT PERSON. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;And the thing is... People don’t change, wich changes is your perception of people to the extent you get to know them better. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Whom must we blame then? To that one that didn’t showed himself as he really was or to that one who didn’t wanted to see the reality? To that one who told a White Lie to protect to the guy that didn’t want to see the Black Truth? Or we must blame to that one that prefered assumed himself as a victim of a perceptual mistake? Or to that one who opted for the Black Truth making unnecessary harm to others even betraying values that are anticipated to the only fact of telling the truth? Or must we blame those who opted for either option, but always with good intention? Or maybe we should blame to that one that, despite having taken any of the two options, was crucified because he perceived ALWAYS wrongly? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I raise the subject. I don’t defend any of these positions, I simply put over the table the idea of what each wants to show, what each wants to levy in order to manipulate the truth or manipulate the lie, without even mention if the choice made was in a good or bad intention (applied to oneself or to the rest). &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;*****&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Valuable Thought: Criterion. This solves everything. Apply your common sense at the things you think are most important to any decision you make (in your active or passive position) as sender or receiver, victim or victimizer. Always. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Liar Thought: Independent of the decision you make, White Lie or Black Truth, try to reach an agreement with everyone to follow the same line... otherwise things can explode pretty fast. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Cynical Thought: Don’t waste time lying or telling the truth. Play the innocent, if they ask, you never know anything.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What The Hell Thought: Who cares if you lie or tell the truth, you don’t care about people, so what the hell, if they like you good, if they don’t good too. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Accomplice Thought: Base your choices in loyalties. This is the simplest thing to do. Independent if you choose the White Lie or Black Truth, you’ll always be cool to yourself, and to that one you should be more loyalty at the time.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3067649806556052597-444782662184504913?l=cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/444782662184504913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3067649806556052597&amp;postID=444782662184504913&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/444782662184504913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/444782662184504913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post_31.html' title=''/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SEGVcXz7xgI/AAAAAAAAAYo/eGmUNQK0qdg/s72-c/29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597.post-6297217511514450433</id><published>2008-05-01T17:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T19:47:18.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#940474;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;...Sleeping With Wide Open Eyes Or Living With Closed Eyes?...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;color:#000000;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SBpZ7_m16RI/AAAAAAAAAYI/aCfqpst3RP4/s1600-h/33.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195564007346792722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SBpZ7_m16RI/AAAAAAAAAYI/aCfqpst3RP4/s320/33.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;I sleep with my eyes open. Although, in the last couple of weeks I can’t remember anything when I wake up, many times I dream about things I actually see while I’m sleeping. And I dream that my paintings got alive and they move and speak to me, and that the light bulb dance around and that my turtle cushion tells me jokes, and that I can see mountains through my window (the same window)...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More than once, I've experienced this feeling of doubt... am I awake or asleep?, so I could corroborate and differentiate the dream from reality doing experiments with my still alive dearest dog... While I couldn’t move, lying in my bed between the dream and wakefulness, I could saw her looking at me. When I could finally move, I looked at her (to my dog Pepi) again, and I saw her just like the way she was before so I was absolutely clear that I was actually awake, ’cause when you dream with your eyes open and things look pretty normal, there’s always something that comes out from reality and that appears only in the dream world (for example, a turtle-cushion that tells you jokes). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Doubt: Why sometimes I can’t move?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;When I felt something strange in my mouth I got up to see myself in the mirror. I felt my teeth hurt and watched with horror that it was because I couldn’t close my mouth ... of course, my teeth were upside down and inside out ... I understood that I was feeling this pain of squeezing my teeth and at the same time, I was looking myself in the mirror that is right in front of my bed (so... it was a dream!). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Doubt: Why sometimes I squeeze my teeth? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;And I fight with people that makes me angry and of course, I wake up with my own screams. It’s true, sometimes I got really angry, awake or asleep. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Doubt: Why sometimes I say what I feel asleep and not awake?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wake up crying with this horrible anguish in my soul (it’s being a while since I don’t have this episodes, but the last time was a very long period of inexplicable crying), and I awake so sad and distressed, that I keep crying for a few minutes... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Doubt: Why someone cries asleep and then wake up without even remember what she dreamed about? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And when I’m awake, I close my eyes (not really close, as I do when I sleep), and think. It’s rare that I think with images. It’s like not being able to walk and chew gum at the same time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;When I go on the bus and I am thinking about something, I can see pictures of my imagination through the window, and streets and people just disappear. And with a sudden blink, I cut my flow brain, get back to reality and I notice that I should get down the bus 10 blocks ago....and that’s because I live with my eyes closed ... all the time. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Maybe that’s why I use to have a better time while I’m sleeping...And maybe that’s why I sleep so much. Because if I can’t remember my dreams, doesn’t matter, at least time pass over. And if I dream, even better... I had a great time, and if a had a nightmare, doesn’t matter, cause there’s not real damage...In contrast, living with closed eyes (metaphorically of course), can make you suffer a lot and being confused about everything what you live (feel, listen, interpret, receive, reject, etc.). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;And not understand (one of the things that I don’t like is not understand!) you might doing things incorrectly believing in things that can make you or your closest people suffer.Perhaps here comes my memory problem ... forgetting things cause I live with my eyes close... Ideally everybody should sleep with closed eyes and live with open eyes, but some of us love to live in reverse, messing around unintentionally, making existence more difficult than already is... Just for Cicuta spirit ... or Undergrowth spirit?...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Anyway, there’s always the option of sleep for a while to escape from reality, and there is also the option of waking up from a nightmare. In addition there is an intermediate option, which is sleep or escape from reality with imagination ... great tool! (Try to dominate your dreams and avoid the ugly reality) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;"&gt;Doubt: Does anyone will dare to sleep with me after this terrible confession?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3067649806556052597-6297217511514450433?l=cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/6297217511514450433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3067649806556052597&amp;postID=6297217511514450433&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/6297217511514450433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/6297217511514450433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post_01.html' title=''/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SBpZ7_m16RI/AAAAAAAAAYI/aCfqpst3RP4/s72-c/33.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597.post-7495040243147448857</id><published>2008-05-01T16:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T19:37:14.078-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;color:#940474;"&gt;...To Laugh Or To Cry?... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;´&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SBpXqfm16QI/AAAAAAAAAYA/Or83NdLvAZ4/s1600-h/36.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5195561507675826434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SBpXqfm16QI/AAAAAAAAAYA/Or83NdLvAZ4/s320/36.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;Emotions can be very cofussing. Most of the time I suffocate ... I feel suffocate of anger, helplessness, joy, grief, impatience, deep love, excitement, happiness, pride ... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And I can cry or laugh, it’s the same. But I always go beyond, I got overwhelmed until I broke out. And that’s because I have a heart that is filled so easily, I have wet eyes that are unable to sustain the tears, I have a voice that screams hideously acute of joy or anger, I have this pale skin so I blush easily of shame, sorrow, anger and happiness, so pale that crying stains last for a couple of days. Anyway, they emerge. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Emotions emerge because I’m not able to contain them or just because I can’t handle a measured and controlled conversation.&lt;br /&gt;And I explote and feelings flow and I am ashamed for not being able to be an adult. And strangely, I can’t show what really happens to me in the inside, because I can not show to others that I can’t control laughter or crying, and I swallow both soul expressions and it hurts like an emotions overdose ... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And while I’m trying to contain these feelings, skin pallor gives me this cold appearance, like I was made of marble, showing me callous, like cold stone, like steel, being oblivious to everything, like a wise judgement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And i’m ashamed to see that others was frightened or surprised or just can’t understand. And I realise that there isn’t pride because it’s not enough room in me for it... It replaces priority emotions to live blindly in a sea of inmates shouting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;And I understand that if I laugh or cry I’m expressing myself and I exercise my inside to be able to have an outside. That it must be even worst and horrible to wake up with an empty soul, without feeling the need to contain anything because you are so hollow inside. That it doesn't matter if they see me laughing or crying, that is not important or a big deal because I’m feeling anyway. That the anger daze me down and defeats me, and I’m so tired while I am awake, thinking in my issues and in his issues... And I’m deplete of these throwing up explosions feelings that comes out through this skinny and languid body... So then I go to sleep... to wake up and explode again&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3067649806556052597-7495040243147448857?l=cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/7495040243147448857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3067649806556052597&amp;postID=7495040243147448857&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/7495040243147448857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/7495040243147448857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/2008/05/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SBpXqfm16QI/AAAAAAAAAYA/Or83NdLvAZ4/s72-c/36.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597.post-6081785633327218801</id><published>2008-04-19T11:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-02T19:43:05.902-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vYnAyLmJsb2dnZXIuY29tL19OR0FnVWZJTVB1TS9SYnpiYVlsTFIySS9BQUFBQUFBQUFGSS9ieXBMcFItc1Vjby9zMTYwMC1oL3RlYWN1ZXJkYXNvbm8uanBn"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;color:#940474;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;...Do You Remember, Don't you?... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SAo1WQcOq0I/AAAAAAAAAX4/IR2LkMX6SWA/s1600-h/40.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191020176984681282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SAo1WQcOq0I/AAAAAAAAAX4/IR2LkMX6SWA/s320/40.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sometimes... Most of time I don’t remember... And that’s because I forget. If I wasn’t forgetting, definitely I would remember... Recently I found the phrase that defines my brain. "Strainer Head"... That’s me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forget that I am cooking, I forget where I left the keys, where did I put my glasses. I forget to call, I forget birthdays, I forget exams. I forget to put the awake alarm, I forget the numbers of the buses that I have to take, I forget phone numbers, I forget my phone number. I forget my friend’s adresses. I forget people’s names. I forget the books that I’ve read, I forget to buy cigarettes. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also forget my love ones. I forget how much I loved my fellows from college, how I loved my dog, how much I loved my ex boyfriends and how much love I feel for my family. The good news is that this is easily recalled. Because as people appears back into my life, (because they've found me or viceversa), or just remember them (that I don’t forget), the feeling of love arrives back to my heart and reminds me that I love them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bad thing is that I forget that sometimes people around me do not know me. That I miss. I forget that are others whom I speak, that there’s old loving ones wich are already gone, that there are people who I won’t see anymore and that only with them (or he) could be that way. Now I can’t. Because I forget that the last love is no longer exists... that he was a completely different person than the actual. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And it turns out that I was another too... With him and to everyone who surrounds me or I've been surrounded. Because everyone is different with me, and I am also different with everyone, because everyone gives me a little bit of what I am and each will receive a part of me of what they’re not.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The good news of forget is that when I remind, I’m amaized again. So when I forget faces, voices and smells I am pleased to see or meet them (you) again. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can read the same book 15 times because I had forgotten how wonderful it was. I forget so many things that I can’t remember what else to write. But what I don’t forget ever is to say sorry ... And to thank those who had left, those who've returned, to thank those which have always been there, to those who will come back and to those who will be arriving...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;In short ... Sometimes I do remember, sometimes I don’t.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3067649806556052597-6081785633327218801?l=cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/6081785633327218801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3067649806556052597&amp;postID=6081785633327218801&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/6081785633327218801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/6081785633327218801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/2008/04/blog-post_19.html' title=''/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SAo1WQcOq0I/AAAAAAAAAX4/IR2LkMX6SWA/s72-c/40.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3067649806556052597.post-3371728405331615282</id><published>2008-04-19T09:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T15:49:06.421-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;color:#940474;"&gt;...Worms Or Dots?...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SAofMQcOqzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/v_ZZKcpcoSA/s1600-h/48.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5190995815930178354" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SAofMQcOqzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/v_ZZKcpcoSA/s320/48.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Today I woke up with a swollen eye... I haven’t lived this situation since I was a little girl, like so many other things I’ve been experienced in the last week... &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;color:#666666;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;So I remembered about those little worms and dots that I could see into my eyes... The thing is I have a pretty rare eyes...(especially the left one). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I remember that in the backyard of the house where I spent part of my childhood, when I was tired of so much running and jumping, I used to lay down in the grass at the time it was beginning to hide the sun, looking up to the sky while Lili made us toasts with avocado from the tree that she planted. (Later I’ll refer to her) ... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;So, when I looked up to the sky, there appeared not only the dots, but also transparent worms ... They were in my eyes, I knew it, they moved at the rithm of my pupils, and when I watched a fixed point, they pretended like they were sleeping and just started to fall ... but always inside my eyes. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;It was funny, being able to see the reflection of my eyelashes in the stomach of these transparent worms if it was a ray of sunshine that aimed directly to the retina. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;I was amuse looking all these points and transparent worms until it heard the voice of Lili in the kitchen yelling: "KIDS!!! COME TO EAT!!!" &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;Then I forgot about everything and I ran to eat bread with avocado. One day I told this to my father and he told me that he also saw the dots and worms into his eyes when he was a little boy... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;So I think is hederetary... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;This is how Alfonsina’s blog begins&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;...Cicuta Or Undergrowth?... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;(Before just for pressure, today just for relieve)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3067649806556052597-3371728405331615282?l=cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/feeds/3371728405331615282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3067649806556052597&amp;postID=3371728405331615282&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/3371728405331615282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3067649806556052597/posts/default/3371728405331615282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cicutaorundergrowth.blogspot.com/2008/04/blog-post.html' title=''/><author><name>Alfonsina</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KNMfDLSO7io/TdFM9jphd6I/AAAAAAAAA1Y/QMxCZIgshtY/s220/8915c6db-4fc2-4025-b823-3ce1a4db0333.png'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NGAgUfIMPuM/SAofMQcOqzI/AAAAAAAAAXw/v_ZZKcpcoSA/s72-c/48.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
