viernes, 9 de enero de 2015


How I wish you weren't asleep. I guess that even if you were awake I wouldn't be able to talk since there's sleepy people all around me. I need you, my best friend, the only one who always understands. I feel like I'm suffocating right now, like someone laid a ton of bricks on my chest, like they let a pack of wolves roam free in the emptiness of my stomach. I guess it all makes sense now since I do have a weird sixth sense that kicks in now and then and had been thinking a lot about my ex husband lately, to the point of loosing sleep and preoccupying you with unsung tales of my past. Just found out he's remarried and a proud father. The woman that stands by his side seems to do it with a delicacy I've never possessed. Her pictures seem to speak of loyalty and silence, understanding and devoted selflessness, they seem to shed light on the smile of a broken man who's sins fueled his anger and who's pain rattled his fists. He looks happy, fulfilled. She's what he needed. I was perhaps the carbon to his flame; her, the sand for the fury of his waves to lay rest upon. Was I the crack? Did my unstoppable wretched force destroy this love bound, immovable object? Tonight we paid tribute to a group of men and their struggle with loving me. A romance with me seems to bear a great resemblance to catching a firefly. So exciting and dazzling at first, illuminating, provoking anxiety to the point of wanting to hold this magic creature captive, only to wake up to a darkened, stiff carcass with no more mystery to share. That's me, the girl with the intoxicating smile that can make all your dreams come true...but can she? Can I? I need you so bad right now, if only to hold me in your arms and take me from myself. Instead, I will quietly shed my tears and make sure to lay an extra coat of smile on my poisoned face come sunrise, so that I may be the brightest firefly there is to see in hopes of finding a love within myself from which to never break free.

miércoles, 9 de enero de 2013

Admission Essay

"I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of the telescope." Dr. Seuss

As a child, I was an outcast. The sound of my voice was always drowned out by the laughter of kids picking on me, calling me names and pushing me to be ever so different. Being weird was the best thing that ever could've happened to me. I can still recall the first time I was politely asked to leave the classroom, it was the same day I began songwriting. With the highest conviction, I was certain my music would change the world; I was 7 at the time and almost 19 years later I continue to hold true to that conviction.

I would write about love, peace, unity, equality and other values that promoted the inclusion of "different" among customary. I fell in love with the possibility of new generations such as my own shifting the natural paradigms of the “survival of the fittest” and creating a world where even the strangest of souls would occupy an important place in society. My certainty would grow even after falling prey to anguish, doubt, and hopelessness, because at the end of the day something magical always unveils this innate hope scarred into my very being: humanity will change, and the day will come when songs such as Imagine, One Love, Blowin´ in the Wind, and Where is the Love will have become prophecies of the reality we live in. The laughter of a toddler amused by the silliness of a fall; the trickling sound of wet trees after the rain; the familiar feel of stranger´s smile; the warmth of a hug when hollow is the best adjective to describe you; a completely selfless act followed by utter fulfillment; the comfort of finding a song that captures, down to it´s melody, exactly what you feel. This is the magic of which I speak, these are the miracles of life, this is what moves me to be an artist.

I have two majors: one in International Relations and the other in Political Science. Many have told me that it is nonsensical for my search for meaning to be geared towards art as opposed to redirecting it to a more conventional, stable, and pragmatic end. However, as the great Dr. Seuss well states, fantasy is necessary. It is the artists who paint the world with the colors of their imagination; they are the ones to make sense out of all the bad and add meaning to what would seem like an otherwise senseless existence; they create a fantasy out of life and live in it as well.

I want to pursue my artistic career in Berklee not only to ensure that I remain an eternal resident of Never Land, but also to guide others into finding that place within themselves through my music; hopefully making them realize that looking through the wrong end of the telescope the world may actually find the answers it has historically been seeking.


Te di todo lo que tenía y aún mas
Te amé con aquel amor que pocas almas experimentan
aquel que se envuelve entre sábanas de lluvia
que corre por senderos de risas
aquel que te observa y te ve angelical
aquel que se convierte en una religión
en un culto al ser amado
Te amé desnuda y con disfraz
con paciencia y con locura
con la eterna certeza de creerte mi aire
en admiraciòn de tus párpados tranquilos cuando la noche caía sobre nuestra alcoba
Te amé eterno, te amé fugaz
besando despacio y con mesura el espacio oculto entre tus versos
Te amé violento y con ternura
sin mirar atrás tu infortuito desierto
Te amé sin dudar, te amé abnegada
Te amé, te amé, te amé...

viernes, 29 de junio de 2012


I see my world in color, not in black and white. Unicorns dance along to the melody of a ukulele, butterflies live much longer than a day, Peter Pan flounders around sprinkling pixie dust, my spirit fails to come down and floats away with the wind like a feather.

I see my world in color, not in black and white. The music in my mind is the soundtrack of my life, up tempo, forte, allegro. The band keeps playing and no pause is needed to rest. Up comes the drum solo: 5 beats on the toms, a crash, a splash and the bass drum keeps pounding.

I see my world in color, not in black and white. I dream myself scourged with wisdom, beneath the light of clarity and truth, behind the skin of transparency and authenticity, drowned out by laughter and healing tears, chin up high, feet buried in ideals.

I see my world in color, not in black and white. No kids dance off in my stoplights, no man sings outside with his violin, famine does not growl, the march of inconformity does not thump in my streets, no flags wave the pride of borders and separation.

I see my world in color, not in black and white. The pain of deception does not break me, the confusion of abandonment does not lose me, revenge is never a strategy, my heart never breaks enough to not love again, and my memories are never too painful to not be remembered.

My failures are lessons, my victories, celebrations, my passion is unnerving and my spirit is ever hopeful, my child is never forgotten, my dreams are never broken, my smile cannot be cracked and my voice will never be silenced, because I see my world in color, not in black and white.

martes, 22 de mayo de 2012


Hoy es uno de esos días en los que mi piel se siente ajena a mí. En los que los huesos en mi cuerpo parecieran querer perforar mi alma que se inflama con desacato y frenesí. Mis párpados cansados de ver lo que está derredor amenazan con cerrarse y hundirse en un mundo que promete ser mejor. Pesan por falta de visión y por exceso de ella. Pesan porque no saben ya como mantenerse en pie y luchar.

A veces quisiera tener el don de fluir, como el agua, como el aire, como aquellas plumas sueltas que decoran un viento de otoño, como un primer beso, como un discurso de la pasión, como en mis sueños…

Me atemoriza vivir sin temor, sin su estructura que incita a la precaución, prevención, previsión. Pero quizá me atemorice más vivir una pre-vida en la que el estatus quo sea siempre la opción, en donde la volatilidad natural en mí no tiene cabida, en donde no hay espontaneidad ni mayor lugar para aprender a ser.

Me aprietan los “debos”, me aturden las instrucciones del buen vivir, me lastima el bozal que acarreo por si me nace una idea sin tapiz.

Y el sonido de mi voz se ahoga en mi garganta y sólo sale el sutil aire que a nadie ofende, que de nadie huye, que con nadie se envuelve. Y sigo aquí en la antesala a la vida, en el preludio de una bella canción, en el preámbulo de un cuento fascinante, en el pre-vivir…

lunes, 14 de mayo de 2012


Quisiera hacerte sentir lo que yo en mis lamentos

Que se te erice la piel con el viento cual susurro mío

Que sientas eternas las horas en la espera del momento

Que no encuentres salida si no es en mi beso

Que de placer te llenaras al soñarme despierto

Que las canciones perforen tu alma conmigo en tu recuerdo

Que sea inquietante mi silencio y abrumador mi abrazo

Que con mi voz se batiera el suelo y estallara el cielo

Que no tuviera yo que sabotear lo nuestro

Que no temiera yo a tu adiós sin regreso

Que no existiera yo en tu oscuro silencio

Que no viviera yo sin el calor de tus huesos

Que no sufriera yo en la ausencia de tus “te quieros”

lunes, 7 de mayo de 2012


Blanda carne sucitada por el doloroso no
Lo prohibido me niega la lógica debida
Calla el amor la pasión desmedida
y brota ufanado el antojo vedado

Antojo de tí, eso es lo que hay
Un rato no más para no empachar
Suficiente que sacie esta sed de arrancar
de mi mente tu carne y de tus labios mi ansiedad.