3.28.2026

¿Por qué Simona Loca?

Long story long...

Ya sé, otra vez les voy a contar una historia más de cuando era estudiante de intercambio en Sevilla, probablemente ya estén hartos, pero esta no se la saben aún. 

Como en esos tiempos me gustaba el teatro, y un día encontré una convocatoria para un taller de Teatro ofrecido por el Centro de Iniciativas Culturales (CICUS) de la universidad.  Tenía que enviar una solicitud con un curriculum y lo emocionante era que solo se ofrecían 20 plazas. Para mi sorpresa quedé en el taller y siendo sincera considero que estaba en el puesto #20 en cuanto a talento, (todos eran geniales).

Un día de nos dejaron una tarea, estudiar un monólogo para luego presentarlo al grupo.  Yo no tenía idea de que hacer o a quien representar pero poco antes acababa de ver un monólogo de Felipe Tututi, un actor que aunque creo es de otro estado, Mexicali es su segundo hojar.  El monólogo me fascinó, retrata perfecto la vida en mi ciudad, Mexicali y se llama "Cachanilla", así que fue el elegido.

Llegó el dia de la presentación y creo que fui una de las últimas. Dejé a todos boquiabiertos, pero porque no me entendieron nada porque si lo escuchan (se los dejó aqui), dice muchos regionalismos.  Hay una parte en la que Felipe dice "Simón Loco", que para nosotros es como un simple, "Claro, por supuesto" o de mandar mucho muy lejos a alguien cuando te dicen algo.  

Obviamente les tuve que explicar de que se trataba, la intensión y que el monólogo ni mi personaje era Simona Loca,


Los días siguientes ya era Simona Loca, apodo que iba perfecto con mi nueva vida y mi nueva yo, descubriendo el mundo, riendo, siendo yo muy auténtica, enamorada de la belleza y el arte! 


 En el  Rinconcillo

Sala Cero

Teatreros

mi penúltima noche en Sevilla, la noche de Auguste Rodin


Éste fue el día del monólogo


3.16.2026

The re"Birth of Venus" in a small Mexican city

The art of letting go the clothes that no longer fit your body, that's what I put into practice 2 nights ago.   

The heat seems to arrive earlier every year, so it is that time of the year where I am putting away coats, jackets, tons of sweaters and pants.  I also went through my summer clothes and realized that most of them no longer fit me so I put all the big clothes in a pile and decided to give it away but before that, I made this type of ritual,  I tried them all again. I couldn't believe the new me, the ability of a body to transform, finally I could see the results in the mirror, 24 kilograms off from this journey.  

It was 2 a.m., and I was singing and dancing "She´s gone, Dance on" in front of the mirror, trying on new clothes that fit the new me. My gratitude was immense. I never believed I could feel this good again.

But now these questions echoed in my mind: Who am I now? Who was I before? What in me am I masking?

Very quickly, I answered myself with a smile, Venus is finding her way to transpire through my skin.


Sandro Botticelli: "Birth of Venus" (1484–1486)



2.11.2026

Dare: Describe men as they describe women in poems.




Mexican, Spaniard, Lebanese, quite contrasting but alike.

Men, men, men: Libras, Leos, Virgos, Pisces and Geminis

Fire, water, air and sand,

Midnight walks while being friends with architecture, beach volleyball, tapas and long nights.


Men, men, men: 

Brown, blue, black and hazel eyes.

Power, peace, poise, adventure and spicy fights!

Tongue, cologne, beer, wine, capoeira, languages, samba and Brazilian flights.

I hear music: drums playing, a singing voice and bass.


Men, men, men: 

Politics, Carolina Herrera, nihilism, Isabel Allende, magic, sensualism, science and arts.

Moon, darkness, sun and light!


Inspiration all around, 

Dan Marino, John Lydon, Eduardo del Río, Santiago Calatrava, Oscar Wilde, Niccolo Machiavelli, Friedrich Nietzsche, Eric Prydz and my treasured Auguste Rodin.

The son, the boyfriend, the husband, the dad, the friend, the grandpa, all beautiful inside.



2.02.2026

Stories of Platonic Love

Once upon a time, there was a 14-year-old girl who woke up one day from a dream, and the consequence was love. She fell in love in a dream, and it felt real for months. This boy was gorgeous, smart, spiritual but he wouldn't look at her (me) as she saw him.  I moved on quickly anyway.

¿Cómo podía ser posible enamorarse después de soñar? Bueno, pues eso volvió a suceder. I was 20 years old and once again, I woke up felling in love, but this time, with a girl.  She was my boss probably in her 30's and I had met her about a month earlier.  She was super sweet, smart, and was filled with patience, such a great attribute (One I lack)! But it just happened.  It was nothing sexual at all, just pure admiration, but I felt the butterflies in my stomach and it would make me happy to think about her.   It was confusing, I was as confused as I felt when I fell in love with a boy at 13 for the first time,  it was all new!  It didn't last long, since I stopped seeing her soon after.

A few years later I didn't wake up from a dream in love again, It just happened slowly, with another girl. After seeing her quite often, I started to feel attracted to her, her beauty was hard to describe: her long curly hair, sweet eyes, lips, her personality...  I was infatuated. And even though I was attracted to her appearance, it still wouldn't be more than that for me. 

I think I fit the Sensualist archetype from Robert Green's The Art of Seduction, described as someone deeply in touch with sensation, beauty, atmosphere, smells, touch, and pleasure.  Basically, I enjoy beauty wherever I find it, and I love to contemplate it. 

Even though I´ve had these experiences, I would still describe me as straight because I've never wanted more than to admire beauty, just a simple platonic love.   Has this ever happened to you?  ¡En fin! Random life memories.




1.18.2026

Let's pretend we are Simonetta Vespucci as the Nymph

This year life surprised me with 2 tests, and I failed both, they were exactly the same but even though I failed, I learned the lesson.  

At the very far end I know when to step away and disengage from day to day situations and friendships.





1.02.2026

The journey of the flyers

The silence of the birds… flying their own way.

In different trees, each has a cozy nest of their own.

Once or twice a year, they get to share the sky at the same time,

but they still fly with their own flock.

From time to time, their paths cross.


With a subtle glance, they can tell they are growing

and there on the horizon, the only exchange is a silent knowing.


 Below the whitest cloud, they recognize one another,

quiet, yet invisibly woven as a child to its the mother.