My Diary "magical." The summer days 
was the sensation of 1994. A kind of
aparatejo combining a PDA with an attempt to
gameboy, lucky reader, a currency converter and a few more goodies. I guess some commercial
saw in December and asked what the kings, as I recall, was the last time I made a little note
. Had a couple of years without experiencing an emotion and the depository
who lived under the tree.
I wore it to school daily.
wrote little notes on it, I know I could do it in a notebook, but my keyboard and see on that screen buzzwords ridiculously small, monochromatic
and unintelligible to me, was close to being "scientific" or to witness a miracle . To date though I explained (and I know in advance) how it works
LCD monitor or a touchscreen, I keep to fascinate me. Neither science nor technology are no longer marvel
since then. I made their profiles to all my friends, that was one of his greatest graces: you could choose from several types of faces, hair, eyes, noses and mouths, to build the face of a tipín
. There were added
juntitos your name, phone number and address. I figured he needed only to have input
headphones and radio reception (in my head the illusion that the music fit into a small space was not matching any) to be a perfect device.
I liked the idea of \u200b\u200bwriting every day on it, shame that its report would not let me. Frequency was reduced to one week, a wave very stylish
Doogie Howser . Andale
, was just as fussy
doc. The
Chunche that would begin allowing the utopia that I observed in those days, I do not remember where, and which ensured that
somewhere in the twenty-first century could record our entire lives. This utopia find it very close now.
What is the joke of keeping a journal, what's the point?. For me it's time to return
. Read is to live it again. Or almost ... This was the main reason for this blog.
And the twitter of . The main twitter
function (in addition to interaction with others) is the possibility of writing a mood, a complaint, an idea, and that should be recorded. Magic
The Diary
was me two years, and third I bought a "Super
my diary magic" and that brought some kind of primitive
bluetooth called "magic
beam "with which you could connect with other devices, but only one student was a technology enthusiast
gadgeteril (at thirteen and geeks
were unknowingly). Still in high school
what I will use, he could write more
little things, I had more memory and notes were ... 381 characters!. Mjm
. In aparatejo
today I have what I call as
My twits teens when twitter was not even in the dreams of Jack Dorsey ". With all that I have a steady hand and drawn him to do, I can not write pen-on-hand-paper when I'm moving. So in my high school busing, and eventually into the subway line 2, I used my
diariecito : "16 - June
-95 Today I bothered much with Vania
. He kept talking to the monkey
-used the word monkey
, je
- that of the classroom. I like very fat. I took 10 in World History. "
I returned to my drawers to look for that last week I remembered when I finally bought the iphone
, and I was in a
déjà vu
. I'm like as a child in one sixth of January.
Just yesterday I had an epiphany. I was in San Ildefonso
and assholes tried to take pictures of an installation. I get frustrated a lot because I do not (be I do something very stupid, but
bueh ... let them and their backward policies.) I have taken photos (but
kebabs) of almost all expos
to which I have gone for a couple of years, I can deny the sacred right of treasure-archive my memories?. I complained via twitter
. I left the museum, it was drizzling. I walked around the Plaza de la Constitution, I took many pictures. The rain had emptied a bit, then I pretend to talk into the microphone of iphone
, talking to someone on the phone. But I did not do that. I was saying, recording a message.
I got home, I ate a shrimp broth (no gamble, eh). My mother cooked it on Saturday. A fish and shellfish do not I have such empathy
, I think that while I eat. Looking between the movies I've purchased and have not seen. Sale one that had completely forgotten "
Away from her." I dread the idea of \u200b\u200bgoing
forgetting my life and lose my memories as the lights of a house that gradually fade away until it is in shadow, into nothingness. I think that because in the film, Fiona
suffers from Alzheimer
and has been her lover, but with tail
tremendota step-husband for forty five years, suffered a titipuchal
because of it, and who loses. And she lost herself. Then I cry (not exalted but moving. Follow the lines of "The
Notebook," but with more plot and less marshmallow). So in addition to mourn, remember the utopia of talking at the beginning of the post.
I want to save what is precious to me and those are my memories.
