My little rebellion

My teenage and early youth days were very dark for me. Back then, I was just a kid scared about growing up, a nerd and lonenly girl filled with doubts that tried to hide in her books. All my life I've been a really idealistic and artistic person, and the contrast between my ideals and the reality has made me feel lost many times and has encouraged me to look for the truth. Also, I'm very introvert and individualistic person, and during my youth, trying to set up my personality, that two cores of my identity were stronger, so that they caused me a lot of trouble, suffering and misunderstood in those days. When I got into youth and adult life, the better way to describe what I was is a walking doubt, questioning and worrying about myself all the time, because I was just trying to be myself and it didn't seem to fit a world that doesn't have room for individualistics. I only had one thing clear: my ideas. When I truly believe in something, I defend it against all and live according to it, but I've never tried to change the world, it's enoguh if the world doesn't change you. 
During that confusing time, I ran into something that becomes really important to me. One day, I was searching randomly for new bands (as all young people I loved music, and I still), and found by chance one that played a strange kind of agressive rock whose lirycs I instantly felt related to. And the revolution started that day. It ends up to be a punk rock band (they still play nowadays), and since then I developed a deep love to punk culture. When I started to listen to punk rock, the only idea that I had about its background culture was a bunch of violence guys messing around, but when started to research, I forgot my prejudges so quickly. Punk is about thinking by oneself, about respect and it holds some ideals that I've denfended during all my life. I found myself reading and reading essays, books and punkzines... and anything related to punk culture. Some day I have to write here about punk history and statements, but today I don't feel like.

I wouldn't think of me like a truly punk rocker, I was a polite and good girl that spent her time studying. Relating to punk, I've always been like that person looking a shopfront and doesn't dare to enter the shop because there're lovely things, but too expensive for him. But anyway, I've visited some punk scenes in some cities and met punk people during my life (most of them quite intelligent and respectful). Punk has always been my little rebellion and it taught me that there isn't anything wrong in being individualistic and think and do things by yourself, so that in my youth it helped me to feel the confidence that I was lacking to like myself and live in the way I wanted.

Fade away

The other day I started to think what would be left of my generation in, I don't know, a century, for example. And it's sad to get to the conclusion that nothing probably: our way of living, our thoughts, our sight, our dreams, the clothes, books, music that we used to love will be forgotten, buried forever, with no traces of their existence. Not only individually, but jointly too, it's hard to transcend. That's one of the constant preocupations of the human being. We desire to be remembered in the future, we reject just to fade away, to swallow our pride and face that we're not so important because our whole life just last a breathe in the eternity of universe. I've always loved astronomy, and when I was younger, I bought a telescope to learn more about it, so one night that I was staring at the stars, out of the blue I got that deeply scaring, but also wonderful feeling of be completely alone and understand in a second of certainty, that we're all lost in a strange existence whose meaning is out of our reach, but it also made me feel that I was something special, that in the vast silence of universe I was alive, and that live will always worth, because it's extraordinary.
Despite this, when you get to an age, you have to face the painful experience of start to understand that maybe your time is over and that nothing that you knew will last forever. Of course, all of us know that, but it's not the same when you feel it. You see how the buildings, the people, your friends, the social conventions of your generation, the old ideals... desappears so slowly, until one day you find yourself staring at the rebellion and power of young people wondering when exactly you changed and started to get old, you contemplate your own youth in their reckless eyes, but you can't go back in time. Then the world forgets you and little by little all that you loved and links you to this world is catched by time, as one day time will catch you too... but until that day comes, it will worth to keep on living.

Rainy day

Yesterday, it was one of that grey days that makes you feel blue.It was raining almost all the time since the morning, so I stayed in after came back home from work. I always have liked this kind of days, they makes me think and feel a sweet melancholy, so that I end up doing things like reading or writing while I listen to the relaxing sound of the rain falling. But yesterday it couldn't be. I have some work to finish.
Two hours later, when I was sitting at the computer, it stopped raining and the sky cleared. I looked through the window to rest my eyes. The sun was going down and everything was illuminated by a strange light, between pink and orange. It was so beautiful. That reminds me of the village in the countryside were I was raised and the life that I left behind there, because the sunset was that color too. While I lived there, I used to hate that village and dreamed of running away, because there wasn't nothing to do there, nothing interesting for my restless mind. But now I regret that hate, because when I left it, I realized that deep inside of me I know it's my home, the place where all started and where I spent my happy days of childhood. And it has its good things too. I used to ride my bike in the summer evenings along the paths in the countryside, feeling free as never. Also I met my best friend of childhood and now, and we spent hours and hours laughing together in the pool, under the sunshine. After all, it was a good life...

Hello

I don't have a very interesting life. Well, it's not interesting at all. It's just about getting up, going to work, coming back home and hanging around.. Over and over again... Nothing special. But sometimes I start to think about that boring life and I see that it can be beautiful, weird and interesting on its way, but also oppresing and disappointing, so that I feel I need to express it. That's why I want to start this blog, to write here little essays about that thoughts and stories that touches me, or just about my feelings and ideals, strange things that happens to me, or any other thing that I feel like writing. So let's start...