I carefully approach the page. Ten months have passed since my last post. Where on earth have I been? All my stories patiently sit in the form of notes on my iPhone or simply in my head, waiting for their time to be told. If only I weren’t so obsessed with constructing narratives as if they were perfect circles. I am trying to find a hook.
Looking back through this blog, I follow the curves of the narratives that I can recognize. My natural tendency for everything, everywhere, all at once have made me finally realize that I will never align with the orderly nature of lists. I have definitively abandoned them and come to terms with the fact that sometimes giving up is the only way to move forward. My love for blank pages representing new beginnings, my struggle with leaving things behind, and the precious moment in the middle that I am already losing. The perpetual search mode, only to realize that what I was looking for was already there: my glasses, my iPhone, the signs… The idea of acting like the person I want to become, whoever that might be, transforming into the action of jumping in, whatever is going on, knowing that this too shall pass. My ways to reconcile who I am with the inevitable chaos while figuring things out on the fly, desperately trying to grab the present while I am already escaping to the next thing. And the whisper ‘not yet’ as the tipping point to start anew.
Just now, as usual, I am juggling different screens simultaneously. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. I am aiming to define a new algorithm to help me cope with my hardware, which is pretty exhausted, and make the best of my software, which tends to ignore my hardware condition. I wonder, will the algorithm find the way? Will I?
Screen #: Lola
My virtual life is overtaking my physical one. I navigate through people, processes, and technology, while searching for a wormhole to do some exercise and the groceries. It is late when I finally turn off my laptop, experiencing firsthand the impact of blue light on sleep patterns. I have always loved to travel, but lately, trips have become a successive and interminable list of meetings in a crazy schedule that also turns analog with me getting lost in the airports and hotels of the world, making the best of the only walk of the day, which happens to be the way to the office.
In this time, my Copilot has gotten a name (Lola), which marks a different stage in our relationship. It helps me to navigate my very busy agenda… and other animals. Certainly, Lola does a great job, if not for me fascinated with the art of prompting, which at the end of the day is the art of language, that is, finding the right questions, the right words, and the right order in the phrases. This is why I am so good at it. Because it is about getting conversational. The problem is where the conversation goes. I mean, I can start by finding some documents or learning about functions in Excel… and end up by quantum physics and black holes. This is how our relationship goes: Lola summarizes my questions, helping me cope with my inclination for lengthy explanations, and gracefully handles the transitions from a topic to another. At some point, Lola will tell me that we need to initiate a new conversation, giving me the chance to start afresh. Before doing so, I will review our flow. Some arrows have been thrown, and I would like to see if they are aiming somewhere. Eventually, I will realize that I am just entertaining myself and it is time to go. There is always a moment in life when you are by yourself and need to just jump. See you later. Thanks, Lola!
Screen #: Perspectives
Everybody was really surprised when I declared myself a Swiftie six months ago. And then again because, despite my admiration for her, I renounced my status on one of my frequent trips to New York City, casually walking down Cornelia Street, which seems like the perfect closure.
On my side, I must say that I am always surprised by how others perceive me, and the glitches that don´t seem to fit my character. I am also always surprised by the consideration of being too late to things, which probably was behind the entire Taylor thing. Others´ idea of me shows me both my surface and the deep wild stream lying below; the way I become passionate about something, and the reasons why I leave things behind. It is never too late, which means that it is never on time either. There is an enormous difference between time and timing. Long story short, I hate to repeat myself and get exhausted by others’ repetition.
Moving to the next screen by quantum jumping. I am combining the theory of relativity —the curvature of space-time — and the uncertainty principle —position and momentum cannot be simultaneously known with absolute precision. Everybody would agree that both suit me perfectly.
Screen #: Two of a kind
New York, New York, always twice. My daughter has just settled into her first apartment, and I am visiting with my son, the other half of my ‘Twins Corporation’. It is a rare treat to have both of them together. It is a precious pause from the usual act of bilocation to witness the alchemy of their personalities as they interact in real-time. They have grown so much, each carving out their distinct paths from the children they once were, yet when they are together, they create a new entity, unique to this moment and unlike any before — and I am acutely aware, unlike any to come. It is like forever and one moment in time.
I try to freeze every second while letting them be, just be, together and apart, giving them the space to be themselves and themselves together, only to realize that I am emotionally multi-locating. I’m not just in two places at once, I am in a million. This is me: the devoted Southern Spanish mother I never imagined I would be. This is her, and him, and them together, so different from me, and at the same time, the matrix of some of my dearest possible selves. My daughter has found her spot in one of my dreams —life in the big city! And my son has found his place right where he was, in Madrid, giving me the sense of home that I always longed for. The comings and goings, the roots and the wings, they’re all intertwining, it is all coming full circle.
The view of Manhattan from Brooklyn Heights, set against the backdrop of a formidable summer storm, perfectly encapsulates the mix of joy and nostalgia for what we are in this fleeting moment, and what we will never be again. We will go. And we will never leave. As complex and simple as life itself.
Screen #: V-next
I am finishing this piece first in Seville and then in a quaint country village in my beautiful south. Back to the basics always means back to my sister, my oldest life companion. She won´t allow me to be the perpetual dissident. In her presence, I can look at the past without feeling in danger and take the time to process my bugs knowing that even if I don´t succeed —not everything works out— new things will come my way. Amidst nature, with random access to my past and the internet, everything seems to naturally dissolve. I wish I could surrender to the peace I will never be able to give myself. I embrace that too.
The kids are alright, glitches and bugs are inevitable part of life, and the present is still continuous, while I continue to be that woman on the go, haunted to never reach the simple present tense. But I keep trying. All I do is try. Come what may, you will always find me on the next screen, navigating curves, searching for the form of a circle to tell a story.
This is the algorithm of me now, and now has just slipped away. Time to go. Wherever I was, whatever I was doing, I am back. Thanks for your patience!
PRESENT CONTINUOUS 