Robin McLaurin Williams.

Look me in the eyes,

this is only for the lucky people,

take me for a ride

and let’s try to feel alive.

But every now and then,

you feel like you’re mistaken,

you feel you don’t belong,

and you wonder what was wrong,

what was wrong.

Tell me another lie,

big enough for me to shallow,

take your time,

while you imagine how they’ll cry.

And then you realize,

You’re not talking to anyone,

that voice you heard before,

is your heart trying to hold on.

By itspaulamartin Posted in English

On art and vacuum.

Tonight, at 2AM I decided that it’s a good night to write, even though I have quite a long list of things to do for next week, but it’s fine, I finished a painting and I’m way more relaxed right now.

But the thing is, I was thinking that maybe, art can’t exist in a vacuum.

What do I mean by this?

Well, I really think art is essentially communication, most artist use art as a way of telling what they’re feeling, what they think about something or as a way to complain about anything.

Anyway, I don’t want you to think about what the artist pretends to use his masterpiece for, what I want you to notice is that just as there’s no air in a perfect vacuum, there’s no art without trying to communicate A.K.A vacuum.

I think that’s the main reason why people make art, so other people can relate to it. 

I know this idea is pretty simple,but I think it’s important to think about it and I wanted to write it down since it enables me to clarify things.

Thank you for reading and sorry for being away for such a long time. 

Motion.

I find that motion helps my brain. This statement just popped in my mind, while I´m traveling at 300km/h on a high-speed train coming back to Madrid.

Planes, trains, cars, walking, seem to work as a catalyst, so I guess the thing is motion.

Motion is constantly helping me think, it allows my mind wander limitless field and my thoughts dance to the beat and I can’t make them stop.

I’ve always had this feeling, I don’t know if it’s because since I was a little girl I’ve been traveling frequently, but I guess it isn’t, because I know a lot of people who used to travel way more than me and they start feeling homesick from the moment they feel they are going anywhere, some others feel the urge to arrive save and sound as soon as possible and others start getting sick, I guess you can call it motion sickness.

Anyway, I don’t want to bore you with my train thoughts at these hours, I just wanted to share with you my thoughts, because I’d never really thought about that this way but certainly motion is the key.

Typewriter font and a large list of thoughts.

The latest months I’ve been living in this outrageous place called Madrid. This strange place keeps me running in circles without a clear idea of where I want to get. All my thoughts have turned into ashes, and I can’t find a way to make them burn once again. My mind spins around one more time. All this seems like a parlor trick, and I still feel as if I could crack the code, when I know I don’t.

I don’t have a great story to tell, I can only write and pretend that all I know is worth spreading, everyone knows that any idea is pointless if you don’t tell anyone about it, but how telling someone about anything you’ve think of makes it a great idea?

I don’t think that’s the point. I think there are a lot of ideas that none but you will ever know about that once, were worth thinking.

Also, whether you want to share it or not, the key is thinking, keeping yourself busy, proving little facts in your mind and exploring and questioning everything.

By itspaulamartin Posted in English

Quite unannounced.

Little train of thought.

Wound up with the wind.

The distance is gone.

 

My old age deletes your youth.

Some ideas are intangible.

And turns out there’s no truth.

 

Learning to set our world free.

Remembering to forget.

Death is our only real guarantee.

By itspaulamartin Posted in English

The ash and remnants of her thought.

 

Alzheimer can evoke a great apprehension and sadness.

It was completely unknown for me before it hit me, before my grandmother was diagnosed. I’m feeling completely forlorn today, today is one of those days I feel incredibly alone and any attempt of building a state of happiness is a failure.

This disease, disorder or  whatever is nowadays a subject of enormous concern all over the world. In any developed nation, this problem has now become the greatest of problems. It isn’t something that you can’t really avoid. There’s not way to stop it or a cure. It isn’t something you can spend a few millions on and solve it. It’s greater than that. There’s basically nothing you can do, nothing anyone can do.

You’re destined to experience the insidious loss of your most human qualities.

Memory, abstraction, language, reasoning…these are just of the things that will change, and never in a good way. It’s a tragedy, not only for the people you know, but specially for you. This disease devastates
your live and your family. It’s incredibly painful to see any beloved relative, (in my case, my grandmother) slowly become a person who you never though they would be, someone you can hardly recognize.

I miss my grandmother, the one I remember, the one who taught me how to read, how to write, how to count to 1000 and how to play monopoly, my favorite game. That person I remember is now gone, she now has become a completely different person, she doesn’t know how to play monopoly anymore, she barely writes and read and of course, she just counts to 10, with some luck. She doesn’t know who I am either, if she sees me she simply smiles, but not because she can recall my name or remember my face, she just does that because she sees me smiling.

Sometimes I wonder what remains when you are forgetting everything, but I guess there’s nothing left.

Even though a few years ago I tried to fool myself by thinking she still could remember me because her ideas were somewhat more hidden, but were there, in the ash and remnants of her thought. Maybe they were, but I’m sure they aren’t now. Now I just try my best to remember what she was like.

 

I’ve come to the conclusion that when you lose yourself, everyone loses you by extension.

 

 

I needed to write, otherwise these thoughts keep collecting in my brain.

Mother, do you think they’ll drop the bomb?

I love this song by Pink Floyd.
It’s been a while since I last listened to one of their albums but a few days ago I found myself playing this song over and over again.
I like the guitar solo in the beginning and the lyrics are just fantastic.

But anyway…

I know it’s been a while but since I last wrote, but I’m on the tram, I have 20 mins left here and I’m extremely bored, I forgot my headphones.

I don’t know if I should keep on writing here or not. I’m not sure if anybody ever reads anything I publish or on the contrary, not.
But I somehow understand that, my writing is awful and it’s only getting worse and worse…

And, I’m not going to lie, my aim for writing on a blog is being softened by all my coming and going, even though I’ve been doing this since the day I was born.

Now, I suppose, you’ll be wondering what it’s next.

I’m not going to make any promise that will end up broken. I’ve already had my share of those. I’ll write whenever I feel the urge to, not because I have to publish my daily/weekly post and most importantly, I’ll write because I have something interesting to write about, because otherwise I feel just like a robot typing random words in order to form a whole meaningful sentence, but always failing.

By itspaulamartin Posted in English