nathalyespinosa - Tumblr blog

[nathalyespinosa]

Game over

Looking back to memories I sit and watch the little me I was wild and I was free I never felt a need to change

Who I Am - NIve

I love to write, but I have never written so much in English.

And it was something interesting to do.

It was hard to write two things every weekend, and I ran out of ideas quickly, but I found how to always write something.

I loved it because some things were ones I wanted to say and have nowhere to do it. I even took some of my old things and said, hey, let's make it better and in English and was a challenge because the original idea was in Spanish and some of the paragraphs were completely useful. So it was the challenge of thinking in two languages at the same time. But I want to be a translator in the future, so it's like training.

I can't say I changed doing those entries or activities, but I certainly knew a bit more about myself. Some activities made me think things about that I usually don't, which make them hard but I enjoyed then.

And I have to confess, some of the things that I wrote almost made me cry, I'm too soft and thinking about myself and other stuff makes me sad and emotional, but it's ok to let the feeling get out sometimes.

[nathalyespinosa]

Under the red light

Hasn't always been complicated to be a teenager?

Too young for adults and too old for kids.

Being in the middle of an existential whirlwind and trapped in a fight between our minds and our hearts. Always in the halfway of doing something against our desire or in favour of this. Not giving a second thought at nothing, and not thinking is it right? Is it wrong? How hard will be the punishment?

Magnus Murphy felt disconnected from adolescence.

His only allies against that odd word he could barely understand and comprehend were books and the computer. Anyways, he wasn't either interested in understanding it, and the atrocities of life didn't deserve his time.

Living in a bubble have costed friends, so what? Who need human friends? The hamster would never lie to him to make a good impression, and his parents' nonsenses for encouraging his son were always the same that he didn't listen to them anymore. If he switched an invisible flip am imaginary air bubble would appear and protect him from the dangerous exterior.

But that Wednesday afternoon all the invisible flips, imaginary air bubbles and ironing adamantium walls, failed miserably. He had ignored during hour Charlotte's group words beyond tiredness, till he had enough and decided to visit the only place nobody would dare to put a step on in the day or at night: the photography room. 

The scholar club had only two members, and one of them was scary enough to been avoided by almost everyone, and her territory too. He never knew what Eve Renard did to won the collective fear, that grim respect for which none of them would dare to annoy her. Magnus didn't like to hear other people's conversations. 

Besides, Magnus always thought that behaviour was pathetic. All his classmates were pathetic if you ask him.

So, he actually didn't care at all about opening the door and guard himself against the acid comments and empty jokes. The didn't hurt anymore, just pinched like grass, a bit annoying.

A red bulb illuminated the photography club, and the smell of chemicals filled the space along with the heat that remembered him of the jungle.

And at the back of the room, Eve Renard was against what looked like a sink and an inn. She was looking at him annoyingly with her arms crossed, wearing a striped blouse, ripped jeans and a pair of sports tennis. Her short brown hair was in a ponytail and looked dark red. Curious.

He blinked a couple of times. He wasn't accustomed to sudden changes in light and passing from lightness to darkness to a soft bulb wasn't comfortable. It was interesting to see how red highlighted the dark, soft enough to allow the existence of a balance between lightness and darkness. 

"Haven't they told you to not get into the photography club without warning first? Photos that you must reveal get damaged by light".

He might understand what made her so formidable despite her low height and delicate complexion.

Magnus was good only at science and machines and didn't know what to answer.

"Aren't for that those curtains and doors?" Indeed, a glass black-painted sliding door and a pair of thick black curtains divided the room in two.

He also knew that those were bad words to say to the fearsome Eve and quickly put the finger down.

"Not enough people get in to take the trouble, neither enough light runs under the door".

"Oh".

"Oh," she rolled her eyes. "Lucky you, the ones I was revealing are already on the water and can't be damaged, or I swear to you... I don't know. I would figure out something to make you pay for it because the photographic paper is expensive and it took my time to shoot 'em".

She turned around, and The muscles of her back were everything he could see. He had the impression of that being a routine to her.

When Eve turned back, on her hands were five squirting pieces of paper. Not papers, photos. And she held them with that delicacy as if she hasn't said they couldn't be damaged a few seconds ago.

"Aren't they cool?"

She crossed to his side of the room and hanged the photographies on a string he hadn't seen before. There were enough wood hooks to hang twenty of them.

He looked at them closely and could see only weird shades on black and white. Some of them seemed like trees, maybe people, but to his scientific eyes, they had any sense.

"I don't know" he answered.

"Negatives can be impressive too, even when digital photography is breathtaking".

"Negatives?"

"These", she pointed at the photos. "They can be positive, which I will do, but its... amazing how the world can be seen as simple as monochromatic shades".

Magnus didn't know what to answer.

He could only think that Eve Renard wasn't the witch everyone said, not when she talked about the negative photography or looked at him with those clear eyes tinted red, waiting for his words, watching him as if she were capable of reading his thoughts with a look.

"I don't know what to say".

It was a pathetic answer. Stood in front of eminences of research to receive a Nobel or a Breakthrough, he would never say those four words, but art was never his thing. He didn't know about drawing for pleasure or taking a photo for portraying the beauty. He wasn't even a fan of music.

She smirked. It looked like she was making fun of him.

"Haven't used the science photographies to portray finds?"

"Yeah, but..."

"But nothing, those photographies also capture the beauty of things or cruelty of them. Next time you see the image of a microorganism notice that there isn't just a creature more but transmits something about it".

"I don't think..."

"Shhh".

She cut him with her index over his lips. She was frost and smelled like photography chemicals.

He grimaced, and she pulled her finger away with an apologetic smile.

"Just look at it. Look for polar bears or the North Pole, a jungle, butterflies on the National Geographic page. And then remember that before entering you have to knock because I could be revealing photographies".

She went away, back to her side of the room.

She didn't even look when she took trays, moved liquids and left everything in the right place. Every closet had fades labels she didn't read. And at the end, she turned off the light, letting them on pure darkness.

"You feel you're able to see through the black". Her voice rang close.

He felt her words. He couldn't see at all but had the feeling of could find everything he saw in red, just like her.

"And when you go to the light... it's like going bling and seen again".

Without seeing her, Magnus appreciated a little the girl's voice. It was sweet and sharp without sounding annoying, a bit childish but so full of confidence that makes you wish to hear it and no refusing.

Magnus heard Eve run the door and took something on the room. He heard her and unknown noises and stood there like an idiot.

"Close your eyes".

"Why?"

"Because I'm opening the door".

More noises reached his ears before she walked again.

Then, what once was pure black, became a soft slightly red glow of light against his closed eyelids.

"Is better if you squint 'em a bit".

"Why?"

"Light can bother you when you spend so much time on darkness".

"Do you have them closed?"

"Squinted, I'm used to it, but there are things you never really get used to".

He obeyed her and still, the light dazzled him, just like her.

[nathalyespinosa]

Show & Tell

Gotta make sure that my legs are shiny Hot wax melting, burn my skin People all around me are watching closely 'Cause it's how I look and not what I think

Strawberry Shortcake -Melanie Martinez

One of my favourite artists is Melanie Martinez.

I love the way her lyrics match so well and never feel wrong no matter the topic.

I love the melodies and the childish tone on her productions.

I love how she criticizes a lot of things without necessarily sounding rude.

Last year, Melanie released her album K-12 as a movie and as the good fans we are, my friend and I decided to go and watch it on cinema, even if the movie ended at 11 pm.

I usually don’t like musicals. It bothers me that everyone sings about anything at any moment, and everyone seems to know the lyrics and the dance steps. It was foolish not to think that a singer would produce a musical to show her latest album, but I didn't care because it was amazing.

K-12 is an aesthetical work with a palette of colours usually on pastels and atypical characters. The costume is pretty amazing and mixes different styles going from corsets and the structure under the skirt as the skirt iself, to bodysuits, or doll dresses and outfits taken from old centuries.

The story is kind of weird and probably hard to understand if you haven't listened to "Cry Baby", the previous album. But I kinda like weird things and Melanie's style is one of my favourites.

However, K-12 is more than an aesthetical thing to see. The soundtrack portrayed by Melanie is full of critics and messages. 

She talks about machismo and how the girls are seen just like objects in songs like "Strawberry Shortcake". She also adds body-positive messages, which are mentioned in other songs along with disorders as bulimia.

About society and abusive leaders in songs like "Drama Club" and "The Principal". And how is to be a star nowadays, how high are the expectations and the critics.

There are also childish songs and cute ones like "High School Sweethearts". Songs along with the plot with explicit critics. And her amazing voice accompanied by curious sound effects.

[nathalyespinosa]

Tell me a story

Tell me a story. In this century, and moment, of mania. Tell me a story. Make it a story of great distances, and starlight. The name of the story will be Time, But you must not pronounce its name. Tell me a story of deep delight.

-Robert Penn Warren

I love fairytales. I have said it a lot of times.

But I haven't really talked about another of the things that I love about fairytales, and no, it isn't the romantic plot but what you can create from them.

According to dictionary.com, the retelling is "to tell (a story, tale, etc.) over again or in a new way". Which in my opinion, is something quite amazing.

When you are retelling a story, a classic one like fairytales the number of possibilities is infinite and reading the retellings from different authors is actually something interesting and exciting. You have to think about what other people haven't used yet to make it unique, or you can also use all those common ideas and make them feel so different that it would be like nobody else would think about them, because you know, they haven't.

One of my favourites is Once Upon a Time. OUAT is a TV series that interlaces all the classic stories with a new touch, new characters related to the known ones and lots of magic. You have those loved ones as Snow White or Robin Hood, Belle and Ariel or Thinker Bell, and those others who people usually don't love like the Evil Queen, Rumplestiltskin or Captain Hook. I think that the last season wasn't necessary, but I loved it anyway. And it's a retelling that definitively worth watching.

Then, we have The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer. This book series is placed in an earth planet years ahead of us. Robots are real, aliens are real, cyborgs are real, and a weird disease without a cure is absolutely real. The main characters are based on those classic stories like Cinderella, Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel and Snow White, but most of them aren't damsels in distress. You will never see Cinder or Scarlett waiting to be saved unless that's the only thing to do, or Cress waiting to another one to hack a machine. Those girls and the boys with them are so freaking amazing. Every character is unique and so well developed that you have no choice but love them. Oh, and a robot with real emotions is one of the main characters.

And finally, a retelling in the form of a movie that I absolutely love: Maleficient. It's not only because they show us a villain that is more than an evil presence but a character with a history and feelings and personal growth, but also because real love doesn't arise after knowing someone one day ago and isn't just from princes with magical lips, but someone who had loved you and cared about you for years. And Maleficient is a badass woman that I freaking love.

[nathalyespinosa]

The ballet woman

Kneeling on the edge of the bed, Amelia looked attentively what was happening in the house across the street.

She could barely understand what was happening. She only knew how beautiful were the lights on her bedroom walls. Red and blue drowned the dark room and inked her pudgy face. Larisa would love to take a picture of her.

A large number of people swirled in the pretty courtyard of the neighbours. She liked to play with the children who lived in the house, and her big sister had a crush on the older boy who visited his family on holidays.

She rubbed her tiny hand over the crystal cleaning the mist. She couldn't open the window no matter how annoying that was. The men outside the house asked everyone to stay in their houses. They would know she was spying and told her mom, and if she knew, she would let her without TV as punishment.

She hugged Lilí very tightly. The doll didn't cry. She was old and full of draws all over her face, and her original clothes were replaced by scraps of fabric from Grandma's seams. She was her best friend and was also curious about what was happening outside.

Amelia bite her thumb. According to her grandma and mom, it was a nasty custom that will end in rabbit teeth. They hit her sometimes with a belt when they caught her doing that. She didn't like to be hitten or seen crying, so, she decided to leave it for solitude.

All the men were wearing uniforms of different colours except for the last ones to arrive. The man and the woman wore normal clothes. She reminded her of another woman who visited the family in recent weeks. Amelia thought the woman looked like a ballet dancer, fragile, thin and tall. She wanted to be a ballet dancer but her mom didn't.

The little girl tilted her head. A brown lock of hair fell over her face, so she pulled her finger out of her mouth to keep it away. She didn't feel the trace of saliva left on her skin.

The woman's eyes met the child's. Her little heart beat hard, her eyes wide open. With a hand on her chest, Amelia closed the curtains faster than ever in her short life. Those dark eyes over her tiny body felt uncomfortable, as the woman could know her darkest secrets with a look. What if she knew about Larisa's chocolate? Or the kitchen incident? The vase? Her mom believed the dog broke it, but what if the woman told her?

What if with just one look of her eyes, the ballet woman was capable of known about the woman visiting the house of her friends every night for weeks? That, unlike other days, the night before she saw the woman stawed after her friends' mom came home from working with animals. Amelia couldn't see the lights on after that or heard a sound. That woman saw her too sneaking behind the curtains as the ballet woman did seconds ago.

Her little heart still beating wild when she lied on the bed with the eyes closed tight. She hugged the doll and cried a prayer.

Amelia didn't know a thing. She didn't know anything.

It would take hours of thinking about ice cream flavours and unicorns, and the weird women so that Amelia would finally fall asleep.

[nathalyespinosa]

Dear old me

Even the stars need the dark (need the dark) to shine I don’t need you to tell me it’ll be okay, I’m no stranger to the pain I don’t mind rollin’ in the mud while it rains if it helps me to grow Bring on the dark, bring on the hate Bring on the pain Yeah, I’ll be okay ‘Cause even the stars need the dark (need the dark) to shine

Even The Stars -Sarah Jeffery

Dear old me.

Have you found another amazing book series?

Have you listened to Taylor Swift til wear out her songs?

Have you dreamed about a better future, a better life, a better tomorrow?

Have you cried in silence?

Have you heard hard words about yourself from people who should encourage you to be yourself?

Have you thought bad things about yourself?

You don't have to answer I know how you are feeling, but I also know that you would kill for having somebody to talk with.

Dear old me, I wish I could tell you that life will be easier in some years or that your world will be pink with rainbows and flowers, but I can't.

First of all, you hate pink. After half and a year living with a little girl who loves the colour, you'll even buy a pink hoodie and a pink pair of jeans.

Second, rainbows and flowers don't always mean happiness.

And third, I have learned, after lots of books, movies and series and nineteen years of experience, that the beauty of life is not only happiness, you need to feel the pain, the darkness and embrace them as part of it. Life is like a play and if an element is missing, it won't make sense. A drama won't be good without a dramatic moment.

And I know, you are not interested in those words, because you don't need somebody to tell you "everything will be better", you need a shoulder to cry and a person who could listen to you. You won't have them because you prefer to suffer in silence, to explode in tears while listening to sad music and read to forget.

But I can promise you you'll get over it. Because you are resilient, I am resilient.

You won't find your path in the next five years, maybe neither in the next decade, so what?

Life is about mistakes and what you learn from them.

It doesn't matter if your family doesn't believe in you because you are not living for them, you are living for yourself.

Words hurt, but they also make you stronger. Tyrion Lannister once said “Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour and it can never be used to hurt you.” 

Once you know who you are and who you are not, their words won't hurt so bad, maybe a scratch on the armour but never a bullet to the heart.

I admire you. Maybe the world will say "it wasn't that bad" or "there's a lot of people in worst conditions and they're not complaining". But that is stupid. Is not easy being so sad that you don't find sense in life. Is not easy getting out of bed when you don't want to keep living. Is not easy to move on when everything seems to slow you down.

So, I admire you.

And there's a lot of things that I want to tell you, but I don't know how to do it.

Please never give up.

Never lose your spark.

Don't let them drain you.

You're worth it.

Yours, your future yourself.

[nathalyespinosa]

Stardust

“A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really..."Do the stars gaze back?" Now, that's a question.” ― Neil Gaiman, Stardust 

There was a wall,

there was a boy,

there was a star,

and a witch who wanted her heart.

The best romance stories are the ones where the main plot doesn't spin around the characters falling in love. Those ones where they met each other without searching for love, they met each other during the journey, discover themselves and in the end is a revelation for both of them, they have fallen for each other without realizing it.

Ok, maybe those aren't the best ones, because the slow-burning romance stories are absolutely amazing (I freaking love them). But the first type is just astounding because it feels a bit like real life. You usually don't go for the world looking for someone to love, it just happens and sometimes you don't even realize when you started to fall.

Stardust isn't a love story, is the story of a boy becoming a man. I thought Neil Gaiman said it once.

When the story begins, Tristan Thorn is just a boy living in the town of Wall, he has never left it and always loved the same girl. And one night a star falls from the sky with the opportunity of winning the hand of his love, because she wants that star. It's easy, isn't it? Just cross an old wall, find the star, take a piece and come back.

It's not that easy. The star is alive and an evil witch is hunting her to take her heart.

They end up travelling around faerie land. 

Tristan discovers the world beyond the wall. He lives a life full of magic, adventure and emotion, learns to fight along with a pirate and gets to know the star.

Yvaine discovers the world she always looked at from the sky. She learns how humans feel those feelings she couldn't explain as she looked at the earth. She laughs, she shines, she dances, she breaths, she suffers, and she loves.

And Tristan realizes that going back to Wall is not what he wants and that that's not the life he wants. He has seen enough, he has travelled enough, he has fallen in love. He has grown up.

And he doesn't lose her at the end because she is the one who loses him.

[nathalyespinosa]

The warrior and the prince

“It's shocking," he says, as though he's giving me some great compliment. "I know humans can lie, but to watch you do it is incredible. Do it again.” The Cruel Prince ― Holly Black

SPOILER ALERT

The broken kids.

The prince who never wanted to rule, the girl who wanted to be somebody.

A story where the girl is the one willing to give everything of her for a kingdom she had never loved and the prince wants nothing but being set aside.

I love the stories when the main female character knows how to fight, how to kill, how to defend herself and save her ass. There is nothing better than reading a woman who doesn´t wait for the charming prince to come and save her. And thanks to the universe or her saviour would be a drunk prince who doesn't know how to fight.

Jude Duarte starts as a simple human girl in Elfhame, the faerie realm. Lots of stories begin like that, you know, the poor girl meets an old fae and she falls in love. Well, Jude met the old fae when he killed her parents and then took her and her sisters to his house. There is no love story.

But who would know? That the girl who always wanted to be somebody in a land where humans are nothing, the girl wanted to be a warrior, to carry a sword, to be known, would meet her destiny in a ball, and before that, every step she took would leave her in that path.

She began as a girl and ended as a queen.

And whoever who thinks that she is somebody thanks to the prince she married, is wrong.

Is interesting to see them working together, their roles in the story: a girl willing to kill and a fairy boy who doesn't even want to learn to fight. In a world where the woman is there to be rescued and the man is always the hero, it's refreshing to see the roles inverted.

In fact, Jude Duarte and Cardan Greenbrier aren't heroes at all. They are just two kids trapped in their families complot for the crown, and if they need to kill, fight and lie to stay alive, Jude will do it, while Cardan shows his face, uses his name and say her words.

[nathalyespinosa]

The wall

Turns you into stone, the light you stole River turns to dust, miles on the run Everywhere you go, can't find no home All the world you roam turns you into stone

Turns You Into Stone -Fleurie

Have you ever had a thousand things in your head and not being able to put them on words?

The feeling of having all those thoughts and feelings inside your mind pushing to being shouted at the world.

The feeling that if you don't share all those things screaming inside your mind, you'll going to burst in a million pieces. And nothing of that you would be left behind. 

Why is that? I don't know but it frightens me.

I have learned to keep everything to myself, is the wiser thing to do in a world that doesn't care at all what you feel or think unless is useful information to make fun of you.

Your parents don't care why you love faeries and read magical stories. They just want you to be the perfect kid, a puppet.

Your friends don't wanna know why you are so shy about others, why you don't laugh at all their jokes. There's no time for sad stories when the party's about to start.

Your teacher is very involved in his own business to care why you're getting worse at school and seem to hate everyone else. His life is already a mess to add more things.

You wanna talk with someone, share anything that will make you feel better. You want a shoulder to cry over. You want a hand holding yours when the time is uncertain. You want a pair of arms around your body when everything seems lost.

But you don't have them. 

And there is no point in wanting so bad something that can't be.

So you decide to build walls around yourself and keep everything inside them, it seems to be the right thing to do. You don't cry when it hurts. You don't shout when it's unfair. You don't even talk. And all that anger, all that suffering, all those feelings and thoughts are left inside those breakable walls.

But every little thing that you add is one more crack on the wall, and what would happen when it finally breaks?

[nathalyespinosa]

Black or white, pink or blue.

Show and tell I'm on display for all you fuckers to see Show, you tell Harsh words if you don't get a pic with me Buy and sell (Buy and sell me, baby) Like I'm a product to society Art don't sell Unless you've fucked every authority

Show and Tell -Melanie Martinez

Is a good story determined by the appearance of its characters? 

Is a good story determined by who the characters love?

A story is the decisions of the main characters in their journal.

A story is its plotline.

A story is as good as the villain.

A story is an entire world made by thousand of elements carefully chosen by the author in aim to get the perfect combination. Or at least, that happens most of the time.

Last week I was on one of my favourite Wattpad authors' Instagram Live. One girl asked her why she wasn't diverse in her stories. Why not adding a Latin character to include more people?

Last month a girl posted on Instagram her opinion about a book series and said: "everyone is white".

The first author may not include a Latin character in her story but includes other minorities beyond the classics Latin, Black or gay. One of her amazing main characters is albino, another is a boy who dresses like a girl, another one is asexual, there is a non-binary one, some characters change their appearance every day.

The second case pissed me off. The girl who made that post didn't read well the book and ignore a bunch of characters because they "weren't the main ones". I told her that most of the characters aren't white, their skins are tanned or slightly dark, some of them were actually black. She answered that if someone isn't black, it's white.

My best friend told me to add more variety in my own stories. The main character is a red-headed Scottish girl, she is pale, thin and tall. She looks like a model my friend said, but, does she?

One day I told her about my main villain, a shadow demon. He is black because I found redundant not letting him keep his natural colour and making him white and blonde. It sounds like him wanting to be charming and powerful and for a demon, the skin tone isn't that relevant. "That's racist", she said, "because you're making a black men the villain". Is it? 

In my opinion, the skin colour of the characters or their sexual orientations aren't that relevant as most of the people usually says. You can't give them features just by giving them. There're reasons for every part of them, why they are shy, why de don't trust easy, why their skin is so pale and their body so thin. 

I really hate when the only function of a character is Asiatic, Latin, Black, gay or whatever. When you make a character under the excuse of inclusion they usually don't have anything special beyond that characteristic they don't fulfil a mission for the plotline, they're just standing there in silence. And that's a sad way of killing someone in life.

[nathalyespinosa]

Mirror, mirror in my hand, who is the prettiest one?

Pill diet, pill diet, if they give you a new pill then you will buy it If they say to kill yourself, then you will try it All the makeup in the world won't make you less insecure

Sippy Cup -Melanie Martinez

What makes a person beautiful?

What makes a person ugly?

Who is the one with the last word to determinate the level of perfection of our bodies and faces?

The most voted answer? Society

The correct answer? You.

You? Yes, you decide how to feel about yourself. You decide if you are beautiful, if you are perfect, if you are enough.

The problem? Society.

It might sound tricky but it's pretty easy.

Every single day of our lives is a parade of beautiful faces and perfect bodies, on TV, on magazines, on social media... We never stop seeing that illusion of perfection, and we foolishly believe it.

You want to be like the blonde girl in the advertisement, she looks so pretty, so perfect, so sexy, she looks so happy. She is desired by your brother watching TV with you, he says she is hot, he wants someone like her. You want to be happy, you want to be hot, you want to be desired. But you just don't look like her.

When you see yourself in the mirror all you want to do is cry because you'll never be like those beautiful girls on TV. Your hair is not that shiny and you don't even know if it's wavy or straight. Your eyes are nothing so special, they are brown and nothing like the bright blues of the poster girl in your brother's room. Your skin is not so perfect, you have pimples. You are not that thin; you eat too much and don't go to the gym.

You realize that you'll never be like her. You are condemned to solitude, ugliness and unhappiness. You suck. And you don't want to suck.

So, you decide to change everything you don't like. You start to count calories, to eating less; the nights of pizza with your family are out of the menu, instead, you drink water and weird juices founded on the internet. You ask your mother to buy you make-up and practice.

And in a few months, when you see your reflection you are perfect, everyone has told you that. They love you, they desire you, and now you are one of those girls that everyone loves on Instagram.

And you don't know, but your brother feels just like you a few months ago. Because there are not just pretty girls but also boys with perfect bodies and marked muscles.

And it's not bad wanting to change something of you. Maybe you wanna lose some weight because it's affecting your health. It's bad wanting to change yourself because of that illusion of perfection fed by social media.

We see their faces and know nothing of them. We listen to the masses whispering what is wrong and right, but, where lays what you think?

[nathalyespinosa]

Hey Death, who do we throw into the shopping cart?

If you die in two months, you only pay two of the seventy-two instalments. Internet Meme.

Yesterday was Friday, Friday 19, 19 of 19% VAT, 19 of COVID-19. Yeah, everything leads to a simple conclusion: this is a message of the universe and we should play the lottery with the number 19. 

If we keep talking about divine messages with number 19, we can talk about the proposal made by President Duque in 2019. He wanted to give us, the common, three free taxed days in the year, three days of not paying that annoying 19% VAT, what a merciful ruler.

Well, I thought it was an amazing idea because I love discounts. But that was then and now it's now.

He decided that the best moment to the biggest days of the year were days like yesterday, in times like this. When the country fights against a universal enemy that cannot be defeated every time it attacks, an enemy who is winning the war and that humanity cannot defeat easily. It was the desperate measure to save the dying economy of our country after months of suffering the consequences of the quarantine. Yeah, our economy is daying a little every day, but a virus doesn't attack us every day, and that type of events, goes against every measure to fight COVID-19. We are "saving the economy" by killing ourselves when breaking every condition of the confinement.

I didn't go out yesterday to take advantage of the no taxes day. I bought just two things from the comfort of my computer and then decided I've spent enough money during the quarantine, and I have to save it to spend it later in books and medicines.

But, lots of people decided to go out after spending months inside their houses to avoid the virus. Yesterday, Colombian people decided that their lives cost a new TV, a new cellphone, a new stereo, new cloths. They remember us how unconscious and easy o trick is our people, like a mouse to the cheese, they risked their lives for stupid things, forgetting the social distance measures.

Everyone forgot that a virus is in the air.

They forgot that is imperative to maintain distance between each other.

They actually forgot that the day before Colombia reached the maximum amount of infected per day, that we are in the peak of the infection.

But hey, Colombia forgets everything, when a politician steals us, we keep worshipping them, we even give them a new position to steal. We have forgotten our ancestor's pain and sacrifice. So, why not forget that the months of confinement are because of a virus and go shopping like cows in a stable.

Anyways, we'll still be the joke of the world, and the memes are never going to be out of the table.

[nathalyespinosa]

About Stories

Are you a witch, or are you a fairy Or are you the wife of Michael Cleary? 

-Irish nursery rhyme.

Another of my favourite fantastic beasts are faeries.

I met faeries from darker stories when I was a little girl, but I didn't understand Rumpelstilskin is a faerie in the Grimm Brothers Tales after I started to read more. It was logical, a trait with a human and the secrecy with the real name, faerie named has power over the owner. I loved the faeries when they were shown as pretty creatures born from the first laugh of a child, related to seasons and in charge of bringing them to human reality.

As well as mermaids, faeries are seen in different folklores as the Celtic, Slavic, German, English, and French, and in the Christian tradition. Excluding the Christian tradition where faeries are seen as demonic entities, the other folklores though similar about them. 

Faeries are mostly supernatural creatures who adore creating chaos and enjoys tricking. They are impossible to trust, especially with words since they're able to say everything without saying nothing or vice versa or twisting with words meanings. They are also very known because of their traits. It's impossible to agree with their appearance. They could look like humans but not taller than a child, they could change their appearance to imitate humans, dressed in dark colours or armours, with green eyes, with wings. They could look almost like humans or like monsters.

In the old days, especially in Ireland and British, weird behaviour and disappearings were blamed on faeries. There is a story about the changelings, where faeries stole human babies and left identical fairy children instead, they also abducted adult humans.

The thing is that cases like the changelings have marked a line between the ancestor's stories and the human ability to blame it disgraces on other forces. The swapping was the explanation when children got sick of unexplained diseases, or when people started to act differently than usual. And a good woman was a victim of those beliefs.

Bridget Cleary was killed by her husband on March 15, 1895. She was at least 25 years when Michael Cleary set her on fire while she was still alive, and his reason to do it was believing that she was abducted by fairies and the woman with him was a changeling. But she was just sick with bronchitis.

[nathalyespinosa]

Fantastic Beasts

Like the oceans dancing with a storm, I will dance with you While my waves enclose you 'til you're warm, like the water's glue Hold your breath and let me count to three, when you really know it's right Take my hand, we'll dive into the sea

Mermaid -Skott

Every culture it's unique, it's not only how its people look like but what makes them different to other cultures, knowledge, beliefs, arts, laws, customs, capabilities, habits and folklore.

The beliefs build folklore. Explain life and existence becomes a necessity, the human being can't just exist from nowhere, certain events don't happen without a reason, and someone or someones superior to us must be guiding our lives, our fates. Our ancestors did a good job creating legends and myths with deities, warriors, tragedies and fantastic beasts.

I'm not afraid of saying that my favourite beast from the old cultures since I was a little girl is the mermaid. When I first discover mermaids, they were kind creatures who love to sing and help princes from being drowned and took me years to get to now that there is no such thing as cute mermaid princesses losing their voices for the love of a human prince, not according to the old stories. There are mermaids and sirens and they are different in every culture.

According to Wikipedia, a mermaid is "an aquatic creature with the head and upper body of a female human and the tail of a fish", and there is where similarities end if you look for them in the different mythologies. You'll see them on Mesopotamia and Eastern Mediterranean, Britain and Ireland, Western Europe, the Byzantine and Ottoman Greece, Eastern Europe, China, Korea, Japan, the Hinduism and Africa. And you'll find a goddess being punished by nature for unintentionally killing her husband and then turn into a fish before jumping into a lake, spoiler alert, the water decides to teach her a lesson, or creatures that represent unlucky omens, and foretells disasters before provoking it, maybe they are the restless spirits of the unclean dead women who died violently or untimely death, perhaps by murder or suicide, before their wedding and especially by drowning, and according to some, they can be good or evil.

And there is the siren, only seen in Greek mythology as "dangerous creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and singing voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island."

[nathalyespinosa]

That’s not OK

'Cause it's okay not to be okay It's okay if you feel the pain Don't gotta wipe your tears away Tomorrow's another day It's okay not to be okay It's fine, you're allowed to break As long as you know, as long as you know Everything's gonna be okay

OK (Anxiety Anthem) -Mabel

ANXIETY

A feeling of worry, nervousness, or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.

Strong desire or concern to do something or for something to happen.

In 2017, there were 792 million people with mental disorders according to Our World in Data, which are 10.7% of the entire earth population in that year and from those, 284 million had anxiety disorders.

Anxiety disorders are many, including phobic, social, obsessive-compulsive (OCD), post-traumatic disorder (PTSD), or generalized anxiety disorders. And can complicate your daily life but doesn't have to turn you into a half-human or make you less responsible for your actions, and isn't sad when somebody uses them as a shield for their wrong actions, it's disgusting.

So, yeah, I'm not trying to explain to you the impact of anxiety in my life or some else's, what I want to talk about, it's how outrages me when somebody uses it (or any other mental disorder) to justify bad actions that have nothing to do with it. Yeah, soldiers with PTSD could react really bad when certain situations remind them of war, and that's understandable, not forgivable every time, but understandable. But, if you turn yourself into an intense hater and start to throw hate to others to get popularity and then make yourself the victim and say: "I have anxiety, and that's why I made it", honey, that's impossible to understand and a shitty excuse, because a mental disorder won't turn you into a hateful person, you could be one without it.

We need to be aware of how serious mental disorders are, whether we have them or not. For example, some of the frequent symptoms of anxiety noted by the WHO’s International Classification of Diseases (ICD-10), are: 

(a) apprehension (worries about future misfortunes, feeling “on edge”, difficulty in concentrating, etc.)

(b) motor tension (restless fidgeting, tension headaches, trembling, inability to relax)

(c) autonomic overactivity (lightheadedness, sweating, tachycardia or tachypnoea, epigastric discomfort, dizziness, dry mouth, etc.).

And, as you can see, they are not a game.

So, please, assume the responsibility for your actions instead of blaming your brain chemistry.

[nathalyespinosa]

Fairy Tales

Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.

Neil Gaiman

Fairy tales are the magic that feds our childish minds when we are too naive to face the real world and its real threats. They divide the world into two sides: the good ones and the bad ones, and no grey spaces are allowed. The villains and heroes teach children what to do and what to don't do without showing the darkest part of human nature, and maybe that's the reason why nowadays typical fairy tales have been pass by a pink screen and all the creepy moments vanished. 

But no matter how innocent those stories are, the commit they're principal function: warning kids of the dangers of a world always trying to eat them all. The Red Riding Hood reminds them to obey their parents or Hansel and Gretel, and Snow White to not trust in strangers.

The thing is that when the world decided to adapt those ancient stories for a more sensitive public, the raw versions were left in oblivion, and even when it's clear children shouldn't read them when we get older they became in good stories to think and reflex. And let's be honest, true fairy tales aren't for children. The hidden messages, the well-constructed characters, the raw situations, the complex symbology subtly used, weren't written for corrupt innocent minds but to make the mature ones think.

Of course, if we ignore those raw stories, fairy tales are a good thing to read no matter how young or old you are. They tell us fantastic stories of love and bravery, epic tales that lead the main character to make amazing discoverings about themselves and let us believe in the magic of life, or just dream about places where things can be solved with a few magical words, allowing us to break free from our tragic realities.

[nathalyespinosa]

What makes my heart dance

My mother said I'm too romantic She said, "You're dancing in the movies" I almost started to believe her

Fire on fire -Sam Smith

The heart pumps the blood over our bodies and is one of the two organs that can't be regenerated by those species with the ability of regenerate body parts, the other one is the brain.

But the heart can't feel our emotions, not like the brain does, although it certainly can feel what our brain it's feeling. It can beat slower if we are calm or faster when we are excited, scared or in love. The head and the heart have this amazing mirror connection.

So, can a heart dance? Not literally, but you could believe that when we are happy, it beats in a different rhythm.

That's the easy part, knowing that your heart reflects the reactions of your brain. The hard one? Knowing what makes you happier enough to make that organ beat different.

I haven't discovered all the things that I love enough to make my heart dance, but I know a few.

My heart dances when I write. Most of the time I'm stressed because I'm trying to put the words in the perfect order, and when I get it I'm so excited that I feel... amazing, and that's not enough, the euphoria fits better.

My heart dances with music. Am I singing or just listening to my favourite songs? It will do it.

My heart dances when I read a book.

My heart dances when I do something stupid that ends in laughter, happy ones.

My heart dances... when I'm with the people I love, those who make me feel loved, the ones I can laugh and cry, and talk pass midnight, those who are always for me and I will always be there for them.

My heart dances when I'm truly happy.