I have to tell you something...

I know. It’s been a while. Are you still here? I hope so. I have no logical explanation of my absence, except for the lack of stories and inspiration. Also, work and life got in the way. Still, I had to come here again, because I want to tell you something

You must know that for a while, I didn’t thought of me as that kind of girl. After one serious and a few not so serious sort of relationships, I focused on my career, my writings, my piano, my family and politics; and made my life meaningful from there. I liked to think of myself as a free soul, going from one place to another, engaged on different projects. I was going to return home as the typical “cool aunt” with exotic gifts from the places I visited. I didn’t wanted to admit that I created all this “story” to comfort myself with the fact that there wasn’t anyone promising for me to be with.

I didn’t wanted to go there. To the place I met him. It was a common friend’ graduation almost on the same date it should have been my own graduation (I graduated almost two years later, due to thesis issues). I knew exactly who I was going to meet and how the party was going to flow. All my colleagues, most already graduated and doing “interesting” things, involved in a lot of political organizations, movements and projects, changing the world. Most involved on serious relationships and for those single, they had no interest in me (and I had no interest in them). They already knew I’m a terrible dancer, so no one was going to ask me to dance. In best case scenario I was going to sit on a corner, all night long, drinking cuba libre and watching all UCAB (my alma mater), Student Movement leaders enjoying themselves.

I still went there, against all my common sense. Because, after all, I’m a hopeless dreamer. I put on a dress my mom made for me, which was, well, a bit awkward but nice. I added a fuxia ribbon to my waist and let lose my hair. I did not look beautiful. But it was me. It was me telling the world I did not graduate on time, I did not become a political leader and I wasn’t – nor I’m now – involved in a lot of organizations. But I still could do something or say something. Or at least celebrate that somebody else was no longer a student, but a journalist.

He was there. There are many versions of this story. Of who introduce who, who started talking, etc. The only true version is that he was a guy I have never seen before, who did not belong to my university group and who seemed to be a great talker (or more likely, a great listener, because I have to admit I do talk a lot). We talked all night long. We also danced, he didn’t seemed to care how bad dancer I am. He only cared of how much I enjoy dancing. And smiling.

We haven’t stopped talking (dancing, smiling) ever since. And somewhere in the mist of this long conversation, I forgot all the story of a “free soul”. I wanted to share everything with him. All those things that made my life meaningful including my writings, my piano, my career, my family and politics – had not sense unless shared with him.

So I never thought of me as this kind of girl. The kind of girl who gets married. Until we meet and talked. And once he popped out the question, just a few weeks ago, he already knew my answer.

I know this blog is about politics, about being a witness of a very particular situation. About giving you glimpses of a life inside a country nor even I can understand. I know I should be talking about the upcoming presidential elections. About a president who is sick, but we don’t know how much. About the possibilities of a change bigger than ourselves, about a transition period. I should be complaining on the constant shortages and government abuses. On all those small and big difficulties we face on a daily basis. About disappointments and hopes. Human Rights, brain drain and crime. I know this blog is about all that. But this blog is also about me.

Against all odds, this is my moment. I’m getting married in just a few months. I’m marrying the love of my life, my most loyal companion, the person who embrace my craziness and supports it. I can’t think on anything else. I had to blog about this. And I have the right to.

PS: Image was taken from here.