A Letter To My Future Wife

Hi Hun!

Haha, I don't even know your name, where you come from or what you look like. I probably haven't met you yet, although I secretly wish that I already have. And although this whole thing can be a bit weird, I do want to tell you that I know why my future self chose you....

He chose you because every time you looked into his eyes, and said that you loved him it ached. It ached due to the fact that it was so beautiful, because there is nothing more sublime than pain brought upon by beauty. The same pain he gets when sitting down to have breakfast, and she looks at him lovingly in all her morning glory. It aches. When she sings a song for him and puts it on a mixtape. It aches. When they're in a party, and she's talking to people, and he's talking to people, and from across the room she looks at him, and the once bustling room comes to a standstill. It aches. When she's sleeping peacefully, and he's looking at her sleep peacefully. It aches.

And please remember, when he says you're beautiful and he's looking straight into your eyes, it aches. That's how beautiful you are to him.

He married you because when he kisses you he feels a current flowing through him. When he makes love to you he intertwines his fingers with yours, and he looks deep into your eyes, and gets lost in them.

You are his wife because you saw in him what so many other women took for granted. What others thought they wanted, but not what they in fact needed. You saw in him what he lost in a sea of self doubt and teen angst. Teen angst that never quite fades. You've rescued him from those depths, and now he sails towards something entirely different. You're his compass now, you're his north, you're what he aims for in life.

He loves you and he wants your babies, 2 biological and one adopted. He wants to worship you, and he wants the both of you to put moments, self fulfillment and family above material posessions and climbing the corporate ladder.

He'll always be jealous, but he'll never admit it because he knows that letting someone loose and letting them come back on their own is the greatest expression of selfless love.

But apart from all that, apart from all the small details that compose a relationship, and create the fabric of our lives, you were his reason to live. When he finally dies you will know that his life only made sense to him when he met you, and after that it was only worth living with you by his side. And for the atheist that he is, you are the closest thing to a sign that god exists, and the hopes of spending an eternity with the person he loves.

Forever yours,
Alfonso Jaramillo

Untitled Story

This is fictional. It's only a short passage of a draft, I'm just practicing for now, but it could evolve into something bigger.

Sleep has the paradoxical property of releasing you from your worries, sweet release. Forget the day, forget the heart, and forget regret. Sadly enough, relentlessly, sleep returns to collect the bill when you awaken. Anguish overwhelms you, and your newly roused state leaves you in no shape to handle this wave. Anguish, the feeling I fear the most. Anguish, the product of extreme uncertainty. Anguish, the product of not knowing; not knowing why you’re afraid in the first place. Today, anguish came.

Lying on my back I ask myself, where am I? The nondescript white ceiling makes it that much harder to find my bearings. What’s happened up till now? Did I miss a few years? Am I still a boy? No, I’m 28. Why can’t I still be a boy?

The curtains, I don’t recognize them. Wait. Yes. I’m in Bogotá. I’m back here after all this time, and for all the wrong reasons, but regardless, I’m here.

It’s all coming back to me... everything. Dad, I love you. Why did you keep pushing it? Why were you so god damned stubborn? Was it worth it? Did you really make a difference?

I’d been so disoriented, that I hadn’t noticed that my pillow was wet. I touch my face, and instantly realize I’ve been crying, the anguish came early this time.

The alarm clock goes off, apparently I’ve snoozed away an hour, and I’m running late. I put on my black pants and coat. I shave, and I remember my dad shaving. I remember that day in Madrid; I wanted to do it too. I was 6 years old and felt big enough to be able to shave. He had some disposable razors and gave me one, told me to be careful, and I was, because I wanted to be just like him. I love you dad.

That day in Madrid, oddly enough, was also the same day I saw snow for the first time. The snowflakes were too frail, and the cold hardly managed to keep them from melting at the slightest touch. We were on our way to a strange land called Sweden, and all I could picture was me with 15 layers of clothes, surrounded by snow. That’s all I could picture, I was excited, but was unaware of how much that country would change me. How I would not be the same person after that. How I would never belong anywhere. My sense of belonging would forever be as frail as those snowflakes.

I apply some aftershave expecting it to turn me presentable. I guess I’m entitled to looking like crap, today of all days. Today I can curse at anyone and everyone, let my drunkard rant leave no one unscathed. They would understand wouldn’t they? They would at least ignore me, knowing that I’m in no shape to rationalize what had happened.

I take the elevator, and looking at myself in the mirror I confirm that shaving and applying some aftershave doesn’t do miracles. I’m still having trouble adjusting to the light when the elevator doors open. I see a black silhouette. It’s my mother. A beacon of warmth and happiness unlike any other I’ve ever seen, but not today. Today she’s dressed in black. She has lost her true love, her soul mate, the man she met when she was only 16. She spent the rest of her life confirming what she knew only 5 minutes into their first conversation… he was unlike any other, he was the one.

Today we say goodbye to my father, and to her one true love.

Colombia is Passion?

Revised: April 23rd (last few parragraphs are new)

Ok, I think it's time.

I've been avoiding this post for a long time, but I have to face this, and I know a lot of people will not like what I'm about to write. Especially my fellow colombians, and even less my friends working in the "Colombia is Passion" campaign.

I don't like the society we call Colombia.

Yes, like in every other place on earth there are great people there, but what I am referring to is the superior entity that comprises Colombia, the sum of all these interactions between human beings, their behaviour and the repercussions of it, leading all the way up to how government institutions and private companies were created and operate.

Colombians only look out for themselves, in a very Hobbesian self-interested cooperation kind of way. I'll give you a beautiful example, which shows multiple facets of this phenomenon in one neat package. It happened to me some years ago.

I was taking a cab back home from my Uni with a friend of mine, and at this time of the day it's very common for most streets to be clogged and just brimming with cars. We'd been on the cab for almost 40 mins and I was starting to get annoyed at the cabdriver... you know when the light is green but across the street it's full of cars, and you know that if you go you'll just end up being stuck in the middle of the crossing, and then when the others get a green light they wont be able to keep going cos you just blocked the whole intersection? Well my cabdriver did that about 8 times during the whole trip.

the yellow car is our cab, and the red car won't be able to cross now, and neither will any cars behind the red one

I hate it. This is what we call "hacerse el vivo" or to be the live one. It's supposed to be sarcastic, someone that is "live" is on his toes, it's supposed to be good, and that's why we use it sarcastically. So is he making the most out of life? Of course he isn't. He's just looking out for his nearsighted self interest. He fails to see that in this situation, there is no benefit for him, cos if he just waits for the next green light he'll most likely still end up behind the blue car. At that moment this is what was going through my head: (please skip if this stuff bores you to death)

These are cars A and B. Each one has to decide whether they will do this "epic maneuver" or not. Whoever does it will screw the other one over. If they both do it they will each screw eachother over or the next one in line. -2 would be the two minutes it would take for the light to go green again (just a random number), and would therefore be the time lost if the other guy does cheat. The 1 comes from the fact that sometimes you don't end up "behind the blue car anyways" if you stay put and don't cross, since some cars from the other direction might turn and end up behind that car. Lets say half the cars do that (I'm being generous) Therefore I guess one would maybe "win" half a block (1 minute, cos 2 minutes would be a block) if I do the maneuver and the other doesn't.

Nonetheless as you can see, the sum of each permutation would be -4, -1, -1 and 0. So in general, it just sucks to cheat for the common good. Furthermore, I'm being very generous here, cos most of the times when you block the other car you're also blocking all the cars behind that one, so in fact it would be more like -2x, x being the cars able to cross in the 2 minute interval in which the light is green. With x being anything greater than 1 Nash's equilibrium would be in neither doing the epic manuever. (this last part where I'm referring to the -2x, is a big modeling faux pas, I'm aware of that, but it does give an approximation of the impact, albeit crudely).

So what did I say to the cabdriver? I just said,"hey, you know, if we all stopped doing this, everyone would get to their homes faster". I tried to reason with him, since I saw him as an equal counterpart capable of rational thinking, and explained to him that he was affecting many more people by doing it, and that it was only benefiting one person, him. I didn't even talk about the game theory table I had in my head, I was trying to keep it simple for now.

He wouldn't listen. He thought he was still making progress by doing it. So this was the first facet. Blind selfishness. But then something very surprising happened. My friend says to me, "quit trying to reason with him, he wont understand".

I've heard that line many times, "he's just a ____, he won't understand what you're saying". What? He's retarded? My genetic code is more perfect than his? Yeah right, I have pectus excavatum for gods sake, talk about faulty genetic code. Every human being has the potential to do most in life, you just have to give them credit, and not treat them as inferior because the randomness of life played them a shitty hand. But alas, in Colombia most privileged people (of which I'm thankful to be part of, otherwise I'd be selling candy on the street) equate education with intelligence, and that's wrong. You don't become smarter when you go to college, you just get the tools to express yourself better, but the innate capacity to learn is exactly that, INNATE.

I should be able to talk to this cab driver as my equal in the sense that he is rational, and is able to learn and understand simple concepts that I lay down. The same way he might explain something that is foreign to me. We are humans, and we are equal. In this case he didn't agree, but it was because of the Hobbessian selfishness that drives most of us, but I refuse to see him as lower than me.

Most people by now are scratching their head wondering where the "Colombia is Passion" comes from and what it has to do with Colombia. The "Colombia is Passion" campaign, is done by Proexport, a trade entity given authority by the governement to handle turism matters, amongst other things. The problem that I have with this campaign is that is shows only the good side of Colombia, and even though a lot of it is true, it ignores the troubles that our nation faces. Trying to send a message abroad has to come with a high degree of sincerity, and the best way to do this is to accept that not everything is roses and rainbows, there are serious problems in Colombia, things are getting better, but there's a long way to go. Even so, being one sided makes this a very hard pill for foreigners to swallow, it'll make even the largest of optimists a bit cynical.

Colombians have as much passion as the next latin nation, maybe even less, ask anyone that's tried to walk up and talk to a stranger and see what happens. Most colombians remain in their close knit cliques, and rarely stray far from them. That is the reason why I truly believe that Colombian society's main attribute is hardly passion, but rather that self-interested drive.

So, that is what is intrinsecally wrong with Colombia. We perpetuate the system by fending for ourselves, ignoring the fact that it puts unnecessary friction on the cogs of this machine we call society. Unfortunately, we also maintain the status quo by perceiving some people as inferior, therefore increasing the gap between the rich and the poor, creating self entitlement and resentment respectively.

Colombia isn't passion, Colombia is unwavering Darwinism.

The Conversation

You start expecting small talk, sprinkled with awkward silence, and just a dab of trivial conversation about what each one does, if they come here often, or what music they like.

But sometimes.... sometimes it's so much more. Sometimes you start talking to that person, and she doesn't look at you funny when you say that you might every once in a while have a messenger window open of that person you're really into and stare at it, hoping to see a "(girl you're into) is writing a message" blink at the bottom of the window, or just looking aimlessly at the 80x80 pixel (which is absurdly small really) picture they have of themselves. When you say that you've never had sex, but always made love, she doesn't think it's a cheesy pick-up line you always use, no, she can see it in your eyes, you mean it, you feel it.

A good conversation shapeshifts effortlessly through an amalgam of subjects, from the trivial to the emotional and stopping by at the existential. From the ludicrous pension system putting a strain on the sustainability of natural resources due to population piramids, to how do they manage to keep the stripes in a tube of toothpaste parallel all the way through... and once or twice in a lifetime a girl says something breathtaking. When asked to explain why she would avoid all eye contact with me, a pretty colombian girl once replied, "because I'm afraid you'll see through me and into my feelings". I'll never forget that moment for the rest of my life, I won't forget her for the rest of my life, and that's what a conversation is all about. Building those unforgettable vignettes that stay with you until you take your last breath.

A good conversation feeds on itself. When you observe, both parts intensify their dialogue, they talk faster, are more creative, and bounce off every possible subject. It's a flurry of ideas and emotions... and you're sharing it with this person, this conversation will be unique and unreproducible. This conversation was shared by both, and no one else.

A good conversation makes you want to be a better man (or woman). This girl challenges you, she's smart and you both feel that you have to be on your toes, each one surprising the other with their wit or their heart... Her strengths don't intimidate you, they invigorate you and you're left asking yourself, "where did this woman come from?".

The perfect conversation, nonetheless, ends shortly after sunrise. You look at your watch, and it's 6 am, and you're on a natural high. By now, you're most probably holding her and she has the most rapturing smell... her hair, her skin... this is what life is made of, this is when you wish you could freeze time. This is the most pure of all feelings, this is when you start visualizing the possibilities... dreams and aspirations... you've seen the best of that person, you will not see her like this ever again. Regardless of whether this encounter might blossom into a lifelong, deep and meaningful relationship, you will still never see her like you did at dawn. The love will be more real, the emotions and the actions will be more real, true... it will just be different. Not bad different, just different.

When you say goodbye, and walk outside, you feel the cool morning breeze, you can feel the faint humidity in the air. Everything seems fresher, and more intense, colors jump out, you're alive, or at least you feel it. Nonetheless, on the exterior you look like shit, and everyone in the train back home stares at you, some will think "lucky bastard, he got some last night", but those who have had the conversation will know, they can see it in your face. They can recognize that smile a mile away. The smile says it all, inside that train, looking out the window, you're mentally going through the whole evening, smiling when she said something cute, and maybe even letting loose a small chuckle when you remembered her embarrasing comment about having granny panties on, she'll probably be hating herself for it, but you think it's adorable. You'll cringe thinking of when you told her how you love Star Wars, but....

...you'll close your eyes when you think of that first kiss.

A Samurai's Death Poem: Hippie vs Yuppie

I hate this transition in life. When you're young you tend to have left wing inclinations, everything is either black or white, and almost imperceptively, with every passing year, you become jaded. People that admired the Che or that fought against corporations and merciless capitalism start to see the advantages of a market economy. It's not so bad to have lower unemployment rates, and a higher GDP per capita and it doesn't hurt to have a Starbucks around or get to shop at Zara.

But it sucks too. I mean, we're still stuck in the preconcieved westernized view of what constitutes happiness. Does this higher GDP per capita make us happier now that we have a higher purchasing power? Anyways, who told economists that the more options you have, the more products available to you, the happier you are? I mean, this is the cornerstone of modern microeconomics, and everyone accepts it, but why should we? Are we really happier by having 190,000 permutations of Starbucks coffee? Does it cater to everyone's needs? Why do we need this endless array of products and services? Do we really need the white picket fence with 2,3 children, a labrador and two volvos?

These thoughts start surfacing when I'm walking in my callus-inducing black leather shoes towards work, instead of my lovely brown adidas that have been falling apart for the past 2 years. I've joined the ranks of the employed, after almost 24 years of avoiding from getting my employment cheery popped.

I hate myself. I was supposed to join greenpeace and become a vegan... what the hell happened? I don't know.... life happened, advertising and pop culture in general kept bombarding my impressionable mind. Now I get excited when I see the iPhone (lets ignore for a second that 75kgs of raw materials are needed to produce a normal 200 gram cellphone, ridiculous). But I'm not the only one that gets excited over small gadgets, and as we all know, gadgets are the yuppie's samurai sword. So there I am, drewling over my weapon of corporate domination.... or maybe I should just perform hara-kiri (seppuku) while I still have my pride.

But lets not be so drastic, I guess I can always donate some money to some NGO, or "adopt" a kid by sending him 25cents every week, or maybe go to a Live 8 concert, you know, cos it's the right thing to do (nevermind that debt relief in developing countries as a final solution is like perfuming a turd). But this is bullshit, seriously, throwing money at a problem will not solve it, especially when there is no such thing as fair trade. This is bullshit being fed to third world countries by France, Sweden, Germany and many others. Believe me, the only people that are buying into this lie are your own citizens. Also, a lot of NGOs, though well intentioned make mistakes when distributing their resources. But alas, the latter is still the lesser of two evils when it comes to international cooperation.

Back at the office, after that internal debate, I think how my fucking tie is choking me, but I kinda like how it looks. It's weird how when you wear certain clothes or accesories, you automatically adopt the mannerisms and movements that you're used to observing in others. I see myself putting my tie over my shoulder when I eat, the way you take out your cellphone from your jacket pocket, or how you pull down your pant legs when you sit down cos they're riding up. I can see how the assimilation has started, it's creeping in.

I don't like to think that I'm gonna turn into a yuppie.... I don't think it fits my definition of "happiness", I don't want to be "successful" or "make it", I don't know where I'm gonna find happiness, all I know is that it'll never be complete unless I have significant other to share "it" with. Whatever "it" is.

I sometimes think that my music and my photography are but futile whimpers before the inevitable death of the hippie inside me. So is this it, am I being asimilated and I've already crossed the event horizon? No hope of fighting back? I wish my 17 year old self could go and visit the 35 year old version of me, and slap him around, scolding him for having learned how to play golf and having bought a time share vacation condo in Aruba. There isn't much advice I can give to my future self that won't fall on deaf ears, but please, whatever you do 35 year old Alfonso, never tie your pastel colored sweater around your neck like some Hilfiger yacht owning wannabe.

Resistance is futile....

General Akashi Gidayu preparing to commit Seppuku after losing a battle for his master in 1582. He had just written his death poem.

Give Me Moments, Not Hours Or Days, Just Give Me Moments

Note: the following post is not directed at anyone in particular, but more of a trend that I've seen in people, and should not be taken as me trying to send a message to someone, I repeat this is not meant for anyone in particular.

Anyone that's spoken to me for more than two hours knows this: I am a total kamikaze when it comes to love. I never flinch, never see the obstacles placed in front of me, just see the goal. And this has led me through some very painful experiences, and things that have definetly scarred me for life, but I can safely say, after licking my wounds, that I wouldn't have it any other way.

It's not uncommon to meet people, especially girls, who distance themselves to avoid heartache and pain, which I think is a damn shame, cos even though I've suffered a lot (I've made a lot of my female friends cry just by telling them my stories) my best moments in life have been product of my unwavering conviction to see things through, to not have that "what if" linger in my thoughts, eating away at my consciousness and my heart.

But what about the heartbreak of someone leaving, or of someone betraying you after you've opened yourself to them, you say? Well there's always going to be pain, but life isn't worth living if you don't take risks. And we fall so as to learn how to get back up again, and I can confidently affirm that every hearbreak is a little less painful.

What do I mean with obstacles? Obstacles can come in many forms, from the inevitable departure of one the parties, to the skepticism and distance of a person once betrayed by his/her former love. Either way, people fail to act out of fear, fail to realize that life is not composed of time, but moments. A guy who's leaving in three months is no impediment to try to live those 3 months like they were your last, cos believe me, sometimes those 3 months can be your last, and some people are just not the same after letting that opportunity pass them by and piece of them dies with them. Don't let opportunities, along with your life, pass you by.

If I could do it again
I'd make more mistakes
I'd climb more trees
I'd not be so scared of falling

Don't think of time, think of moments... it's frightening how an uneventful year composed of a meaningless recollection of repetitively mundane actions can easily be compressed into a week's worth of memories. In opposition, three months can be your everything, those three months can change your life... forever...

Every man's life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another. So seek happiness while you can, as the supreme happiness of life is found in the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather in spite of ourselves.

(Hemingway and Victor Hugo fused together)