As sometimes happens with some love, it can be difficult to understand why I love you. When a friend recently questioned my worship only by the capital, reflected in my blogger pseudonym, I could only explain that it was so simple and innocent as The love of your Rosa Prince: I love it because it's mine. Mexico, I love you for being mine. " If I know heaven is your heaven, If I know the pain is for your tears, they're in me learning to be cried ." Says the poem dedicated to you that I like.
I want to give a corporate impossible, intangible entity of my country. Many of my joys are transient and modeled with the matter of wishful thinking, as they have been yours. Death and its cluster of fears and doubts also haunts me as the first Mesoamerican. You are so contradictory, so vast and so complex that it is impossible to define you. Usually, both self-undermining. Leo
Nahuatl surprised at how sad it is, that the issue of concern is the transience of life and the uncertainty of death, a very melancholy sadness neighbor. But we are educated with the archetype of the Mexican holiday, joyful and dancer. See? since there was a clear conflict.
Knowing that does not meet two hundred years of independence (these will be in 2021), no doubt the insurgents had incalculably more values, ideals and integrity than any Mexican politician today. Excessive rebels for almost everything, like horses that goes on a rampage after the closure without weighing consequences, naive, almost incorruptible. If they were looking for what we now call "the bone" at least put all the meat on a spit, risked their lives, I can not see how the potbellied demagogues and fearful that litter the Congress. The government of Felipe Calderón, the dispute started a fraud and now soaked in blood, is the worst setting for this celebration. A country is built on myths, rituals and traditions What fucking little imagination you want to exclude that?. I would ask forgiveness for all those that prickles, putean and shit what your people. At least I have a very clear line between "Mexico" and "Mexican assholes." Men pay tribute to lofty, perhaps some form doubtfully heroes should not be irritating. Under the cynicism of the XXI century, companies of these men could only be compared with the actions of citizens and Esteban Barrera Cervantes, the man who fought without hesitation Balderas to unbalanced people shot at close range. O Francisco Manuel Villaescusa, young Chihuahua who crashed his truck and came to rescue children in one of the tragedies that cause us great shame.
I am also tired of the injustices, but I'm more tired of the complaint sterile. I have to live with the idea that I can not do anything to change you and do not want to fall into the cliché of "together we achieve" VS "Mexicans are apathetic, that too is an eternal and futile discussion How the hell being engaged when it seems that everything we undertake together seems destined for the colossal failure? How do feel free to celebrate the birth of the idea of \u200b\u200ban independent nation in a year like this?: The year that hurt me most was reading a newspaper, the year I have repeatedly exceeded my capacity for wonder how? How not to feel guilty to express joy when atrocities around us? are experts in self-flagellation and muddy even of Catholic morality, penance seems the only permissible in such an environment. You should deserve the best people, the coarser of the celebrations. Looking for work because the Mexican identity are fairness and tolerance, yet so distant.
festejarte
I do want to, I've done every year and I understand why so upset this time. I do not fool with that is spending more stupid expenses have remained silent. Nor do I drink that marketing is overwhelming, so with all the important dates of the year. The reality is we can not, we do not deserve anything: The Mexican is crappy. Behold the favorite fucking disgrace. The violence that has engulfed our society seems that delights some avid sector of masochism and defeat. I find it difficult to understand that in my country, some of my countrymen seem to wallow in mediocrity. Yet they also have a clearly opposite side.
A stranger told me when I was in Europe, "you are the beings who suffer most when away from home. They miss too much of your food, your family and everything that has to do with your nation." I, for example. In France I felt diminished by not being able to translate my country, with a somewhat frustrated personality without speaking English.
Mexico, you're like a twentysomething, a very depressed and in crisis. No alternative satisfy you, want to escape from yourself. You sink without direction. And perhaps to forget everything empedarás you on your birthday hundred. I'll make company.
