Song 7: "Insane Princess"

she dances like a queen
in a summer night
pagan fest,
twisting and rolling
yelling and hawling.

she's trapped in a tower,
alone and insane.

Song 6: "A couple"

i got a couple of bucks in my hand,
think they'll help me make my way
far away?
i've got a little of luck in my life,
think it'll help me be happy
no matter what comes up?
i got a couple of songs in my head,
think they'll help me get some fame?
but i ain't got any company yet,
do you think you can come with me?
i really need the company,
do you wanna take a trip?
with you i won't need the money,
i won't take the luck
and i won't writte the songs,
do you wanna walk with me?
and there'll be a couple of us.

Song 5: "Cancer"

They all came to watch me,
watch me cry
i´m singing my pain, wrapping it
sending it away.
Everybody´s watching,
watching,
they´re amused by dead,
i feel like if i was in an ancient circus
back in Rome.
They all came to watch me,
watch me cry
everything´s like cancer
i´ve got that sour taste on my mouth:
Let my pain fly
and dissapear
Fly and dissapear.

Everything´s like cancer
Everything hurts
It pains to hear the wake up alarm
And it kills to start a new day
And walk thru this gray world
sick of the same words, the same voices,
the same conversations, the same people
with their same ways and the same things:
And then at night
i throw up all my dumb thoughs
and a new day´ll come.
Let my pain fly,
fly and dissapear
Let my pain fly
away with my tears...
i could die tonight,
now that we´re all here
i could dissapear
for all i know, nothing will change
i could die tonight for all i care, that´s fine.

Song 4: "Melt in my hands"

give me back my identidy,
my individuality,
there's no time or space for
both of me,
stop doing what i do....

don't you wanna get yourself
another image to reflect?
someone maybe not so old,
so pathetic and uncool.

see i lost my marbles in a game,
and now i don't have enough to bet,
give me back my point of view
'coz you never though that way.......

cosmos isn't far enough
to make such a messy duality,
we're gonna screw it up again.
we're not supposed to exist.

if the mirror breaks in a thousand parts,
then there'll be a thousand me's and
that's not how's supposed to be it's
real bad.....

so be careful of the way you
hold my heart,
so be careful i don't want it to
break up........

give me back my solitude i
didn't know i was alone
until you came up and told me.

take your smiles give me my tears i
think nothing'll ever cheer me up, 'coz i
i know you don't need me with you
i'll make you get left behind

world was
much better when i didn't know about you
and i didn't have to like you,
now all i do is look ways to satisfy your sickness.

i wasn't searching for anything
when i didn't know you existed,
now everywhere i go i want to find you.
i'm sorry but i need you to die.

when i'm near you it's when i know
how much i suck,
what kind of creep i am,
and that i'm stupid and how odd i look.

i wish i could melt you
instead of breaking you up,
i won't be happy knowing you're someplace else
reflecting another face.

but i can't stand you so burn,
die, melt in my hands,
and when you do that
crawl up my veins
to live in my heart 'til i die,
and turn hell into glass.......

Receta para la creatividad.

Buen día, mi nombre es Andrea Sermenio y les voy a explicar como se prepara un proyecto con un proceso creativo usando un cerebro dividido en dos partes, seis sombreros, cinco niveles de procesación (existe esta palabra?) creativa, seis de los ocho tipos de inteligencia y un poco de bipolaridad.... pero aún así resumido a 45 sencillos pasos.


ingredientes:

1 materia que pida la realización de un cartel
1 materia que pida la realización de la descripción del proceso creativo.
5 días para hacer el cartel y 1 para hacer la descripción.
1 chica bipolar con un cerebro completo (aunque solo use menos del 1% del mismo, no importa) y lentes.
100 millones de kilos de información recopilada en diez años.
4 meses de clases en la universidad
computadora y software al gusto
29 temas a incluir en la receta
3 cocas


Procedimiento:
1. Toma cuatro de los días que tienes para hacer el poster y tiralos a la basura, si antes de esos piensas un poco con tu inteligencia intrapersonal y crees que necesitan ser menos días los que desperdicies en el myspace está bien, esto depende mucho de quién esté cocinando.

2. Comienza a desesperarte por no tener el poster listo (por eso de la asociación forzada y un poco por el sombrero rojo.... pero solo para no dejarlo fuera).

3. Ponte el sombrero blanco (Una mirada objetiva a los datos y a la información. "Los hechos son los hechos". ) , prende el hemisferio izquierdo a 45° y pon las cartas sobre la mesa y analizas tu situación (preparación/ fase lógica).

4. Sin apagar el hemisferio izquierdo (solo bájale poquito), prende el hemisferio derecho y deja que las ideas fluyan (fluidez) en tu cabecita loca, piensa en las cosas que te gustan y en cosas de las que te sea fácil hablar... relajate. *

5. Ve por una coca y tómala, trata de no pensar en lo que tienes que hacer (puede que así desaparezca).

6. Regresa a tu lugar y sorprendete porque el trabajo sigue real e incompleto.

7. Escribe todas las ideas que pensaste en el paso 4, deben estar acomodadas como una lluvia de ideas, se flexible (flexibilidad) y no te cases con la primera idea que se te venga a la mente (pensamiento divergente: se mueve en varias direcciones en busca de la mejor solución para resolver problemas a los que siempre enfrenta como nuevos.)

8. Escoge una idea (la que mas te guste) y comienza a desarrollarla con un scamper y un mapa mental.*

9. Aún con el hemisferio derecho a todo lo que da, ponte el sombrero verde (la oportunidad para expresar nuevos conceptos, ideas, posibilidades, percepciones y usar el pensamiento creativo.) comienza a pensar en como puedes transmitir esa idea a la demás gente (inteligencia Interpersonal), piensa en imagenes y letras, palabras (Linguistico-verbal), formatos, equilibrio, todo lo que te puede comunicar algo. (aquí termina la incubación, seguiremos con la intimación en el siguiente paso).

10. Ponte el sombrero amarillo (simboliza el optimismo, lógica positiva, factibilidad y beneficios) y ve por otra coca.... la idea esta cerca!

11. Se iluminado (iluminacion).

12. Ahora que tienes la idea clara (el tema a desarrollar y el formato que vas a usar) has un par de bocetos, aquí necetitaras mucho de toda tu originalidad.*

13. Prende tu computadora y abre el ilustrador o corel.*

14. Comenzamos la elaboración del cartel, necesitas un poco de música y de inteligencia espacial.

15. Este punto es sólo para recordarte sobre el pensamiento convergente (se mueve buscando una respuesta determinada o convencional., y encuentra una única solución a los problemas que, por lo general suelen ser conocidos.) ya que ahora sólo quieres que tu trabajo lleve la idea general que habías bocetado, puedes hacerle cambios en detalles, pero se recomienda mantener el formato establecido.

16. Termina el cartel.

17. Comienza el proceso de crítica/ verificación se pone uno el sombrero negro (significa la crítica, lógica negativa, juicio y prudencia. El por qué algo puede ir mal.), lentes oscuros y comienza a ver todos sus errores y darte cuenta de que algunas imagenes no van bien con el resto del formato, de tu mala ortografía, que la idea se puede mal interpretar, etc.

18. Ya cuando no pueda estar uno mas desmoralizado y enfadado de tantos errores que ha corregido comienza uno la fase intuitiva, utiliza su experiencia y hace un cartel completamente nuevo que, si bien no es mejor que el primero, por lo menos queda el creador mas satisfecho con el resultado final.

19. Se toma uno la ultima coca.

Song 3: "I dont love you"

First of all: i dont love you.
i just love the way you walk.
i´m just into you coz you´re not perfect and you hide it really well.
you walk as if everything was where it should be, as if you knew exactly where you are goin and are takin no detours, no shorcuts and wont look at anyone who passes by, coz they dont matter.
i know you hate too much stuff too, i know you*re not where you want to be either, i know you*re unsatisfied like me
i know it coz you said it
but you dont always look like that.
you look as if you*ve already made your world and was complete and didnt NEED anything (or anyone) else... as if you only create new things on your world because you WANT to, but it doesn need it, coz it works perfectly and it looks perfect too, so you just let people into your world beacuse you felt like letting them in.
and they know it.
and im not in your world and i know it.
and i hate it and that*s what makes me gravitate around you.
i love the way that you dont need me.
it breaks my heart the way that you dont need me.
im masochistic.
but i cannot talk to you, coz you have your world all done and mine is a mess...
coz you look so perfect and i feel stupid.
you make me feel stupid.
you have that look in your eyes that i read as if you know it all and dont need anything and i feel small, and you make me feel stupid, so everything i say sounds stupid too...
so i shut.
i watch you from far away and hide and hope you never find out im watching you.
and that i care for you...
and that´s how my heart breaks, and i break.
and i know you´re not perfect and that you´re only perfect in my mind...
i won´t mind killing the illusion, i just dont want you to push me away...
thats why i keep watching you from afar and writting this things and breaking me up.
coz i´m a mess and stupid and unworthy and dont have anything to offer....
i don´t love you, i don´t think i´ll ever love you, coz i dont know you and dont dare to do it.
you wont love me or know me either.
things were easier with .... coz i didn´t do anything for him to like me, he just did.
i wish you could only like me too.
i wish i wasn´t too self concious around you....

Song 2. "Por eso me atrajo tu gravedad "

Sucede que todo es confuso
que me pierdo en las sombras y recovecos de mi mente
que mi personalidad es un laberinto
y aunque añoro y ansio mi antigua sencillez
no logro encontrar ese equilibrio.
me alegran el día los girasoles
y prefiero una buena plática y un buen café
que todos los arcoiris del mundo
me quiero centrar y tener los pies en la tierra,
pero sueño depierta y no lo puedo detener
me digo a mi misma que ya estoy grande
pero algo pasa allá adentro que no lo logro comprender.
y me sigo buscando.
y me sigo perdiendo.
me pierdo en una mezcla idiota de infatuación inmadura,
de borrosa e insegura egolatría,
de pasos huecos en un camino que ya muchos han recorrido y con mejores resultados.
me quiero abstraer
sería hermoso olvidar las palabras,
los significados
todo lo que he aprendido
verme morir desde lejos
ser una cáscara de naranja
vivir para siempre en mi mente,
tener sentido
llegar a un punto bizarro donde ya no importan las palabrerías
ni los idiomas porque todo es color
me quiero quitar la piel y y la materia
me quiero volver loca y no tener que seguir con convencionalismos sociales
pero no lo hago porque extrañaría...
extrañaría las sonrisas y las burlas,
los consejos, los recuerdos, el dolor...
todo.
nada ni nadie se escapa de mi paranoia,
todos son parte de mi y yo soy parte de todos
es parte de mi fantasia esquizofrénica.

Por eso me atrajo tu gravedad,
tu ser tan parecido al mio,
tu mundo que parece completo y en ruinas
mientras el mio sigue en construcción
tu ya te tienes por tu propio sol,
pero no brillas
me gusta que tu endiosamiento sea tal que nada más exista y que nada mas importe
tu egocentrismo que gira en torno al dolor que alguna vez sentiste y no quieres dejar ir
que eres "tan como yo"
un reflejo con diferente contexto
con otros pensamientos
cuelgas del hilo de tu nostalgia mientras que yo me aferro a ese sentimiento que me tortura
pero me hace sentir viva
y no vierto ni una lágrima
y me aparto de todos
me encierro en mi mundo y pierdo la puerta.
sobria, expectante, impaciente, sola
siendo lastimada por cada momento que me niego a vivir
por cada persona que alejo de mi;
que lastimo
que pierdo felizmente
para seguir con ésta compleja altaneria,
desconectada del mundo real,
con éste deleite masoquista que parece estar tan de moda.
y sin embargo te extraño cada día
extraño que me recuerdes mi propia debilidad.

Song 1: "That self-destructive tendency of writing"

I wrote a line and it grew arms and a mouth

Then it started to talk to me.

She told me all the things i´ve havent done,

how the world*s not the one wrong

and how i am supposed to act and be.

Then it grew a big pair of eyes that looked straight at mine,

I couldnt take it so i went away;

I left my notebook so it would starve to dead.

It followed me and it was in my bed when i got home,

*coz as you know thougts are always ahead of you.

My sweaty hands couldnt complete the paragraph,

So it grew a monster with just mouth, eyes and arms.

It was so much like me that it freightened me,

And it kept yelling so hard.

It*s words are now everywhere with me,

The always hang in the back of my mind.

It is so sad it depressed me.

And it kept going for days.

And it kept going for days.

And it kept going for days.

Emmanuel y Luzbel

Emmanuel significa "Dios con nosotros"
Luzbelia adoptó a Emmanuel en el 84.
En realidad no se porque se la historia de ellos, bueno si se cómo llegué a saberla, pero no por qué....

Luzbelia y mi mamá no son amigas, aunque se conocen y trabajaron juntas por 25 años.
Su relación comenzó cuando mi mamá se fue para Ensenada, allí se conocieron en su trabajo, pero en realidad eran dos mundos separados y no se habrían cruzado sus órbitas de no ser por un pequeño detalle: La conveniencia.

Mi mamá estaba embarazada de mi hermana y comenzó a recibir muchos favores de compañeras que incluso la ayudaron a asentarse en la ciudad; Luzbelia comenzó a cuidar de ella también, pero tan pronto como pudo lo cobró.
Mi madre se fue a Mexicali después de que nació Michelle y Luzbelia le pidió su departamento para retener a la mamá de Emmanuel hasta que éste naciera y pudiera registrarlo como suyo.

Tan pronto consiguió lo que quería y se olvidó de mi mamá, cada una siguió su curso y se limitaron a ser comapañeras de trabajo.

En realidad quise escribir esto porque son dos personas a quienes nunca voy a entender, son dos imanes gigantes que atraen para si metales que no quieren cuidar.

Luzbelia adoptó a Emmanuel porque el tipo con el que se iba a casar cometió una especie de fraude y fue a parar a la carcel.... Y ella quería un hijo.
Siempre quizo dar lástima para conseguir bienes y favores que no se le concederían de otra forma.

No sé que tan cierto sea pero hay dos anécdotas que podrían ilustrar mejor su personalidad; Se dice que cuando su hijo llegó a su vida quería hacerle una fiesta cada mes (con recepción de regalos y todo), que hubo quien le siguió la cura por cuatro meses y después ya no.
Ella ha pasado por todas las religiones, pero en el tiempo que anduvo con mormones es cuando se arrodilla frente a la tv (en la sala de descanso se su trabajo), cuando un sacerdote de una novela discertaba acerca de descubrir un secreto o no, y grita "No lo digas!! Es secreto de confesión!!"

No recuerdo haberla conocido en persona y nunca fui a ningún cumpleaños de Emmanuel, tampoco recuerdo que mi mamá hablara con agrado de ella (Mi mamá le puso el apodo de Luzbel-diablo), pero no puedo evitar sentir lástima.

Toda su vida se dedicó a armar un drama tras otro y actuar el papel de martir y santa para conceguir lo que quería... Y acabó criando un monstruo que vino a se su azote.
Emmanuel era (o es?) tonto, o mas bien, no se aplicaba, cuando yo fui a hacer exámen de la prepa él iba allí conmigo, en la secundaria lo golpeaban y hasta mi mamá lo tuvo que defender un día, se creía que era gay hasta que embarazó una muchachita, luego se empezó a juntar con "narco jrs" y ya va para tres años que no aparece.

Creo que por eso no es bueno hacerla de martir, porque si terminamos siendolo cualquiera puede escribir nuestra historia en internet y tratar de ponerle una moraleja.

Mac

That is the “name” that my sister and I put to the hobbo (not sure how this is writen, actually) of the neightborhood, he was in here like four or five years, soon he started to disappear for periods that went from one week to five months, its been months that he´s no longer here, but lemme tell ya everything chronologically, i think ppl understands things better if i tell things that way…..
it was like five or six years ago that a fat hippie about forty or fifty years arrived here and started to slleep outside of the catholic seminary that is near my house (this is, in a street near my house); first we didnt trust him a lot, and we were all kinda scared of the ol man, because he was so tall and big, and we didnt really feel like going anywhere NEAR him, coz he smelled real bad (the poor bastard really was a stinky bastard)…
whenever anyone walked by him he would yell “dollaar, dollarr” we didnt give him a damn at first …
With time he learned som spanish, and when we walked near him he would now say “pesooousss, pesssooouusss”, (that is for peso …. Just so that you get an idea, a Mexican peso is like ten cents of a dollar) and we would look at hi mall hungry and not dangerous at all, he just looked like a really screwed up ol man that hended two or three pesos or ten or a million toe at something, so we started handing th money 

little by little his “properties” began to grow, soon he would already be the proud owner of a couple of blankets and a real depressing cardboard house that he had right there on the sidewalk and it was all aganist the damn seminal wall, and it looked pretty funny coz the wall is all white and neat, but it had that damn cardboard house lying aganist it….. oh, and three dogs, he had three dogs, among them there was this very pretty small husky that i really liked and would happily had taken from him or bought it or something, coz i really liked it, but i never did , but never I did coz A. I do not have space in the house for a dog, im also not dying to clean to its fuckin shit, and B. im not gonna steal a dog from a hobbo! I could´ve bought it thoug, but that would mean that i´ll have to stay with him a while and talk to him and i would mind so much the idea of staying a while if i was just to listen because then i could hola my breath or something, but if i had to talk it would be pretty hard to hola my breath and he was a really stinky bastard…
mmm what else can i say about it ? oh yeah, a couple of times we gave him hamburgers: Big Macs and we got the name from there, too al tough we never called Him that way, we would just kid around by owrselfs referring to him by that name.
You could also see him playing solitaire and talking to the air on his spare time (that is when he wasnt beggin for money, coz he didnt really havea job or did anything to have spare time)
And whenever i saw him all by himself with no one to talk to it was sad, someone not having anyone its sad, very sad and depressing, in several occasions i just felt like sitting next to him (not breathing and all, i mean i can hold my breath for quite sometime) and just listen to whatever the hell he was saying, you know, just to listen, but i never really did, for one thing, everytime i walk by that street is coz im already going somewhere like school or somewhere and i dont think anyone would enjoy it if i got there and smelled like some fifty year old guy that hasnt shower in like a million years.
soon he stoped beggin for pesos and started again to ask for dollars (when he finally realized that two or three pesoswont buy you a lot, maybe just a bubblegum, but who needs bubblegum when they´re hungry?)we usedto crack some jokes about him learning some more spanish and beggins for “billeeteeeeeesssssss, billeeeeteeeeee”
a couple times we saw him buying bread in the bakery on that same street or eating tacos by the supermarket, that´s why we never go eat there.
Then he dissapeared for the first time, we saw him Walking near a KFC, but that was waaaay to far Hawai in downtown, we really doubted that any bus had let himgo onboard, so he probaly walked all the way, and all the way back.
By the time he was back, the guys from the seminal had already throw all of his staff, i doint blame them, the cardboard house was there just lookin ugly and he wasnt even there and there was no way of knowing if we was still alive or if he was gonna come back.
Anyway, by the time we got back and didnt have any of his old staff, it was already winter or something, butis was cold, so my mom gave him a couple of blankets, coz he didnt have anything anymore, he didnt even had his dogs anymore, just the old husky i told you about.
Then he started a new bussiness, he was selling “art”; he made this really bad drawings that look like they were made by a tour year old with a crayolaand traed to sell them outside the supermarket. I never bought one, i never saw anyone buying one, and i never saw anyone not looking at it without laughing!
It was sad, that kinda stuff can really depress the hell outta you, and i dont say it just coz ive just read the catcher in the rye, i mean it, you take some fifty year old and make him stink like hell, and make this horrible/funny drawings with a marker and make him try to sell them and see if it doesnt make you want to die and leave all your money to the poor bastard.
The second or third time that he disappeared he came back all cleaned up and with new clothes, and someone had cut his hair and beard, he was also slip as hell, i mean for a fat guy, he had gone from Marlon Brando to John Travolta pretty fase, or from santa to i dont know, some skinny bastard…. Anyway, he looked pretty screwed up so my mom started to worry about him a lot, well not exactly a lot, coz she can really worry more than that, but a lot for a hobbo anyway, she might have been really worried about his health and all or it couldve been that she just didnt want to walk by and have to see a bloody death guy on her way, it´s imposible to tell.
It´s been like a month or two since the last time i saw him, the other day i made a comment about him at work and some guy seem to know him, or at least know that he existed, he said that he hasnt seen him either.
Its sad, i liked him, ol´Mac, i used to think that he was here because he had done something terrible in his country like killing someone or something, and he had run had run Hawai from the cops and all and was trying now to take it easy and not hurt anyone and also have some kina of punishment by his own.
In short, it was nice to have a hobbo in the hood, specially one that didnt got stunt or drunk or nothing, and that was instead this stinky ol foreing hobbo role model or something like it.
And now that he´s no longer here, and that no one really knows his name or if there is someone, some realtive or something that might be looking for him, it´s sad to think about it. That he might be death already and that his own dogs could´ve eat his eyes or that some crazy driver rano ver him and didnt even bother to see if it was a rato r a dog or santa what he killed….
And i miss him to, i mean, you ger used to seeing someone on your way to take the bus and then when hes not there, you miss him, coz now hes not there playing cards or talking no one ore ven beggin you for “pesssouusss, pesssouuuus”….

Introducción en inglés.

Robert James Mitchell was my grandfather, i dont hold his last name because he married my grandma when my mom was about ten. He is dead now, he died before i turned 9, back in the nineties.

RoJa Mitchell its me, its my mock name and it is with that name that i sign most of my work. My "real" name its Andrea and all my friends and family call me by my name coz thats the only one i answer to and, even if i sign RoJa Mitchell, it is no use calling me by a name i dont really use in "real life" its funny when you think about it.

The reason i use my grandpa´s name its coz he never had any children, not that we know of, anyway. He was supposed to be the last one of his family and he married my grandma- María- and she already had four kids, so they didnt have any of their own.

I dont know, its like in that book by Gabriel García Marquez, that family was erased completely and i dont want that to happen with MY family, so i have to do something great i guess.

There..s only six of us, but we dont hold the same last name. The thing is, my grandma had four husbands and four kids and four grandkids... And i hate number five for no reason. and four had died already, including her, so there´s only six of us left.

The grandkids, well, it seems to me like we are another version of the first ones, there are things that are slightly different from the previous generation, but at the end we are as lonely and depressing as them.

Thats all im telling you right now, i will be writting more about my family, friends and people i´ve known, but not now, i dont feel like it anymore.