Sadly, its just not worth it anymore.

I cant think of anyone in the universe hated more by its own children than Tijuana.














(It makes me sad.)

Antes no soportaba a la gente que pretendía ser otra cosa.

Ahora me gusta reírme cuando veo/ conozco a alguien así.

¿Tú también lo notaste?

Si, dejo de llover.

Me di cuenta cuando Matilde empezó a llorar.

Si, hoy fue a consulta. Tercera vez en la semana. Me asusta de solo pensar como seria todo sin él.

No, todo está bien, no te preocupes, alomejor solo estoy exagerando.

Si eso ha de ser. Eso espero.

¿Mi mamá? Sigue en el DF. Fue por la operación, creo que mañana ya regresa a casa de mi abuela.

¿Cuál otra? ¿Cuál? Oh, ya, hable con ella.

Sí, bueno fuera.

No, no va a pasar nada, estoy seguro. Te digo que no.

Como quieras, me da igual lo que pienses.

Oye ya me voy, tengo cosas que hacer.

Sale, te cuidas.

---

Ni siquera colgué el teléfono.

Voltee hacia las ventanas del techo. Las últimas gotas se resbalaban lentamente, llegando intactas a los bordes.

Que apropiado, sobre todo estos dias.

According to Wikipedia, K'naan is African.

Mogadishu, Somalia.

Lived through the civil war in the early 90s.

Tough dude.

This guy makes want to go to Africa.

I dont even know if the guy is African, but still.

Anyway, awesome song.

Por alguna razon, a Mati le encanta la lluvia.

She once read the old blog. She said she liked it, but I knew better.

Now, when I remember those days, it all feels like such a blur, like it was never really happening. I would never admit it back then but like a really wise man once wrote, I guess Im an Idiot in Love Now.(After all, I really did love her). Only difference was that he was a man about it and admitted his feelings. I on the other hand, went Clark Kent on her and never really grew the balls to tell her.

Sometimes I did tell her, but it always came out awkward and, I couldnt blame her, she never really believed me. (Of course she wouldnt believe you, its hard for people to take you seriously when you are being such a dick.)

Worse part is that I have a daily reminder of my idiocy. (Actually I have a lot of those daily reminders.)

This one is quite easy to see, however. I just need to stand in the doorstep of my classroom and turn my head left. She is almost always there.

What really stuns me about the whole thing is that you kinda knew this would happen. After all, you have been here before.

Not once.

Not twice.

But three times.

T H R E E

T R O I S

T R E S

freackin times.

None of this really matters anyway. Unlike last time, she already blew over me.

Like, really over me.

But, hey I still have the memories.

I just take a deep sigh and think about them.

Man, they feel like ages ago.

Random Thing About Me

Everytime I meet someone and they ask me how old I am it always perplexes me how shocked they are to find out im 16. I never know if to take this as a compliment or a disvantage. (this sucks when it comes to women. Except if they are some Canadian, Sorority chick drunk in a cruise on its way to Cabo.)

I tend to think people think Im old because Im tall. Yeah, that must be it, because Im sure as hell not a really mature guy or anything. In fact, Im really immature. Hang on, Im going to play Mario Bros. in my sisters DS.

(...)

For the purposes of this book - loosely described as "Evaluating why certain players and teams mattered more than others" - I just couldnt find the answers I needed through statistics. I needed to immerse myself in the history of the game, read as much as I could, and watch as much tape as I could.

I care about guys who puked before crucial games and cried on television shows just because a simple replay brought back the pain from years ago.

I care that someone walked away from a guaranteed title (or more) because he selfishly wanted to win on his own terms, and I care that someone gave away 20 percent of his minutes or numbers because that sacrifice made his team better.

I care about glowing quotes from yellowed magazines and passionate testimonials from dying teammates.

I care about the things I witnessed and how they resonated with me.

-- From the Book of Basketball by Bill Simmons.