• Carta a Diego Rivera desde el hospital

Sr. mío Don Diego:
Escribo esto desde el cuarto de un hospital y en la antesala del quirófano. Intentan apresurame pero yo estoy resuelta a terminar ésta carta, no quiero dejar nada a medias y menos ahora que sé lo que planean, quieren herirme el orgullo cortándome una pata… Cuando me dijeron que habrían de amputarme la pierna no me afectó como todos creían, NO, yo ya era una mujer incompleta cuando le perdí, otra vez, por enésima vez quizás y aún así sobreviví.

No me aterra el dolor y lo sabes, es casi una condición inmanente a mi ser, aunque sí te confieso que sufrí, y sufrí mucho, la vez, todas las veces que me pusiste el cuerno…nó sólo con mi hermana sino con otras tantas mujeres…¿Cómo cayeron en tus enredos? Tú piensas que me encabroné por lo de Cristina pero hoy he de confesarte que no fue por ella, fue por ti y por mi, primero por mi porque nunca he podido entender ¿qué buscabas, qué buscas, qué te dan y qué te dieron ellas que yo no te di? Por que no nos hagamos pendejos Diego, yo todo lo humanamente posible te lo di y lo sabemos, ahora bien, cómo carajos le haces para conquistar a tanta mujer si estás tan feo hijo de la chingada…

Bueno el motivo de esta carta no es para reprocharte más de lo que ya nos hemos reprochado en esta y quién sabe cuántas pinches vidas más, es sólo que van a cortarme una pierna (al fin se salió con la suya la condenada)… Te dije que yo ya me hacía incompleta de tiempo atrás, pero ¿qué puta necesidad de que la gente lo supiera? Y ahora ya ves, mi fragmentación estará a la vista de todos, de ti… Por eso antes que te vayan con el chisme te lo digo yo “personalmente”, disculpa que no me pare en tu casa para decírtelo de frente pero en éstas instancias y condiciones ya no me han dejado salir de la habitación ni para ir al baño. No pretendo causarte lástima, a ti ni a nadie, tampoco quiero que te sientas culpable de nada, te escribo para decirte que te libero de mí, vamos, te “amputo” de mi, sé feliz y no me busques jamás. No quiero volver a saber de ti ni que tú sepas de mí, si de algo quiero tener el gusto antes de morir es de no volver a ver tu horrible y bastarda cara de malnacido rondar por mi jardín.
Es todo, ya puedo ir tranquila a que me mochen en paz.
Se despide quien le ama con vehemente locura,
Su Frida.
(Carta vista en este blog)

(Source: insaniescreed)


Literature meme [4/4] tropes

↳ three act

The three-act structure is a model used in writing, including screenwriting, and in evaluating modern storytelling that divides a fictional narrative into three parts, often called the Setup, the Confrontation and the Resolution. (x)

(Source: katerinvaca)



Today, I bought this book (for my sister, lets clarify that now ‘cause the only way I’m going anywhere near sperm is if I fall into a vat of it):














Sign Language Interpreter at Planned Parenthood Shares Heartbreaking Story of Having to Interpret Abortion

I was eighteen when I took a job as a sign language interpreter at Planned Parenthood. I was raised Roman Catholic, but I was Catholic in the same way that Olive Garden is an authentic Italian restaurant: just because you throw some fancy words on the menu doesn’t make it genuine.

For me, abortion was not a choice that I would make personally, but the way I saw it, who was I to judge another woman for having one? I didn’t know her life. I didn’t know her circumstances, and I had prided myself my whole life on not judging people without knowing their full story.

A deaf friend referred me to the job opening at a Boston clinic, and it paid well. I averaged about $100 an hour for my services! That’s all it was to me, a job to make money for my upcoming college tuition. I didn’t work often, maybe one or two days a week, and traveled around to the Boston-area clinics when needed. For the most part, I interpreted for women seeking counseling, getting prescriptions for birth control, or just getting general information about sexual health. It all seemed innocent enough.

Deep down, however, I must have known I was doing something wrong. I told people I worked for a “family services counseling center.” I figured that wasn’t completely a lie. The trouble was, most people took that to mean that I was going into the world and doing good: interpreting for families living in poverty, or families who were trying to keep themselves together. Despite the fact that Planned Parenthood offered all kinds of services, in the back of my mind I knew that at the root of it they really were just an abortion clinic.

The worst day of my life—and an anniversary I never forget when it comes every year—is Thursday, November 1, 2012. I was called in to interpret for a “medical procedure.” I arrived early, and chatted with the receptionist as I did every day. I grabbed a cup of coffee and waited for the client to arrive. While I waited, I went over her file. I’ll call her Kate. She was twenty-three and had been deaf since birth. Kate estimated that she was about eighteen weeks pregnant.

At 10:30 sharp, we entered the operating room. That’s when my stomach started to turn. Previously, when I’d read “medical procedure,” it had been for ultrasounds. But this was different – we were in an OR. The lights were too bright for the size of the room. There were cold-looking metal objects on a table. I was in an abortion.

I tried to remain calm. I interpreted back and forth, but when the murder began, I lost it. As I watched the doctor pull this life out, limb by limb, I couldn’t help but let the tears start to fall. What I had thought would be just lumps of blood clots were body parts. Arms, a torso, legs, and a head. I felt as if I was suffocating. As soon as it was over, I ran from the room. I collapsed in the hallway and sobbed uncontrollably. To this day, I haven’t cried like that since. A security guard rushed me into his office. I realize now that it was probably not to console me, but because I was scaring the patients.

I quit my job that afternoon. I went into the manager’s office and signed my papers. Abortion was not a strong enough word for what I had witnessed. Murder wasn’t even good enough a word. To me, murder implied that the person might have been capable of fighting back. No, this was a slaughter.

I don’t think I will ever fully recover from what I saw that day. A human life, a BABY, had been ripped from its mother’s body, piece by piece. It is the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, and the last thing I think of before I go to bed. I still have nightmares about it sometimes. Whenever I see a child around two, I imagine that that is how old the aborted baby would be now. I can’t help but wonder who that baby would have become. Maybe she would have been an artist. Maybe he would have dreamed of being a firefighter. Maybe she would have gone on to become a doctor who saved lives; maybe he would have become a teacher.

With counseling, I have come to accept that God forgives me for the act that I was a part of, but I am still working on forgiving myself. The only thing that consoles me on the nights that it keeps me up is knowing that that baby is now in Heaven, enjoying Eternal Life. After what this world put it through, I think that’s a good place to be.


As an art student, you’re hit over the head repeatedly with Renaissance art, so I’ve gotten a little tired of it, but something I’m not tired of is the seemingly impossible naturalistic detail attained from stone and a chisel back then.

(Source: vasilisablue)





During a seminar, a woman asked,” How do I know if I am with the right person?”

The author then noticed that there was a large man sitting next to her so he said, “It depends. Is that your partner?”
In all seriousness, she answered “How did you know?”
"Let me answer this question because the chances are good that it’s weighing on your mind." replied the author.

Here’s the answer:

Every relationship has a cycle… In the beginning; you fall in love with your partner. You anticipate their calls, want their touch, and like their idiosyncrasies. Falling in love wasn’t hard. In fact, it was a completely natural and spontaneous experience. You didn’t have to DO anything. That’s why it’s called “falling” in love.

People in love sometimes say, I was swept of my feet. Picture the expression. It implies that you were just standing there; doing nothing, and then something happened TO YOU.

Falling in love is a passive and spontaneous experience. But after a few months or years of being together, the euphoria of love fades. It’s a natural cycle of EVERY relationship.

Slowly but surely, phone calls become a bother (if they come at all), touch is not always welcome (when it happens), and your spouse’s idiosyncrasies, instead of being cute, drive you nuts. The symptoms of this stage vary with every relationship; you will notice a dramatic difference between the initial stage when you were in love and a much duller or even angry subsequent stage.

At this point, you and/or your partner might start asking, “Am I with the right person?” And as you reflect on the euphoria of the love you once had, you may begin to desire that experience with someone else. This is when relationships breakdown.

The key to succeeding in a relationship is not finding the right person; it’s learning to love the person you found.

People blame their partners for their unhappiness and look outside for fulfillment. Extramarital fulfillment comes in all shapes and sizes.

Infidelity is the most common. But sometimes people turn to work, a hobby, friendship, excessive TV, or abusive substances. But the answer to this dilemma does NOT lie outside your relationship. It lies within it.

I’m not saying that you couldn’t fall in love with someone else. You could. And TEMPORARILY you’d feel better. But you’d be in the same situation a few years later.

Because (listen carefully to this)

The key to succeeding in a relationship is not finding the right person; it’s learning to love the Person you found.

SUSTAINING love is not a passive or spontaneous experience. You have to work on it day in and day out. It takes time, effort, and energy. And most importantly, it demands WISDOM. You have to know WHAT TO DO to make it work. Make no mistake about it.

Love is NOT a mystery. There are specific things you can do (with or without your partner), just as there are physical laws of the universe (such as gravity), there are also laws for relationships. If you know how to apply these laws, the results are predictable.

Love is therefore a “decision”. Not just a feeling.

Remember this always: the universe determines who walks into your life. It is up to you to decide who you let walk away, who you let stay, and who you refuse to let go!

I reblog this every time I see it

I love this


This is a lion making a kill in the wild. I know it’s very graphic but I think it’s important to show just how brutal nature can be.

Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in.
Isaac Asimov (via purplebuddhaproject)



90’s retro cyberspace♡

☺☠i see dead people☠☺

(Source: iamrincewind)


so yeahhhhhhhh, about that….