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Martes, 23 de Junio de 2009

I'm sitting in a green concrete bench at the train station: I lost the 10:28 am train and I have fifteen minutes until the next one arrives. I'm sitting facing the sun, loading with iones and electrones as if was a battery gathering energy to face a long day of work.
Today I woke up in a good mood...I woke up first at 5 am or so to put on a sweater because I was freezing (even if my bed had three or four blankets), then at 9 am to take a bath. My nose was cold. To get to the bathroom I have to go through my brother's bedroom. He is always sleeping at that time and he looks so quiet buried under a pile of different colored blankets (like the pictures of us from our childhood) that I feel like waking him up to hug him and tell him I'm glad he is here. But he would probably be pissed off if I wake him up so early. I should make a note on telling him when he's awake.

I'm still thinking about school and the things we said yesterday and I remember something I read in "La Literatura Norteamericana" during last night's ride home. It compared the diary of Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758; preacher, philosopher, theologian, among other things) and Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790; journalist, writer, politician, diplomatic, ladies man, etc). Edwards wrote:

"Don't spend to much time thinking about mundane subjects, even if they are important and necessary, and provide each thing its fair amount of thought, according to relevance and significance".

Franklin wrote:

"2.Silence. Speak only for the sake of others or one's self; avoid useless conversations."(*)

I think this coincidence is a good sign; it is a strange phenomenon to find your own ideas in the words of others, but if they managed to prevail (in books and memory) it is because they must be worth to keep in mind. And that is one of the forgotten tasks of literature: to serve as guiding light to those who pursue meaningful words.

The afternoon passed in a haste and the girl that talked to me yesterday about how useless journalism school was asked me if I had decided weather I would subscribe or not. I tried to explain it wasn't a decisition you could make in less than a day, but I got a call and only managed to say "In one day?" before turning back to my desk to pick up the phone.
Later, while writing some notes on a file I was about to close, I heard the conversation of my workmates and decided not to pay excesive attention to them; their statements were filled with disappointment and disbelievance. I won't deny I had those kinds of thoughts, but I'm willing to oppose not to question them. They seem to be made of a substance present in most people minds: veiled knowledge.

At 19:30 pm I locked the computer, put my coat and gloves on and left. (It's 12:43 now, and i'm going to bed).
 

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