Con mirada retraida,
una sonrisa genuina,
cansado de andar
y del frío de la ciudad.

Llegaste a tu refugio,
ese muro donde te brindan una sonrisa,
donde no eres un estorbo,
lo que es para ti placentero como la brisa.

Te miré y quise ignorarte,
pues eso hacian los demas,
pero algo en ti cautivo mi mirada,
algo en ti me puso a pensar.




Eres solo un niño,
sin importar tu nacionalidad,
se supone debes de jugar,
no trabajar hasta desmayar.

Dónde están tus padres? pense;
porque está solo aquí este niño,
seguro que tenias hambre,
y sin duda alguna sentías frío.

Dios libre que algun dia,
mi corazón se endurezca a tal manera,
como aquellos de esa mesa,
que desearían no estuvieras.

Pude ayudarte en lo que pude,
pero mi impotencia llegó a mil,
mi ayuda era banal y temporera,
cómo puedo ayudar para sacarte de ahí?

Y como tu, quizas hay miles,
pero no con tu sonrisa,
a pesar de lo injusto de la vida,
tu estabas alli calmado y sin malicia.

Dios te cuide niño mío,
a partir de hoy estaras en mi oración,
solo espero que mi oración se materialice,
y pueda ayudarte más
que hoy.


All I want to do is cuddle in your arms,
suffer from amnesia or imagine it was a bad dream...
All I want to do is forget how much it hurts,
 how much it affects me how much it destroys me...

All I want you to say is that it isn't so,
 that its just in my imagination that it never occurred...
But there it is, the proof, taunting me,
 looking at me in the eyes and telling me I'm a fool...

A fool for believing that your words are true.
A fool for wishing you did not throw our history in the trash...
How do I go on? How do I forget?
How can you give me so much pleasure and cause me so much pain.

Why on earth did you do it,
Why on earth didn't you stop,
How can you kiss me with those lips,
Lips full of venom and lust.

How can I hate you and love you at the same time,
How can I be so miserable and yet be so in love.
Perhaps love does not exist, perhaps it's in my head,
Perhaps you never loved me; perhaps I'm the one to blame.

For being so blind, I do blame myself,
But for tearing me into pieces your the only one to blame.
All I want is for it to be over, All I want is not to pretend,
Fake that I'm living normal, when in reality I'm a walking dead.

Yes it's true... I've become 32, weird though, it does not feel as old as  I imagined it....

In my 32, i've fallen in love, fallen out of love, dreamed the impossible, lived the impossible, see my dreams  crash and burn; cried all night, gain weight, lose weight, win battles, walk from battles, shamelessly loose... but what really hit me, in this 32 years of me walking this labyrinth and seeking my path,  there is one common denominator; my strength, my inner voice, my shoulder to cry on... even if I was the only one to blame for my tears... FAMILY...

(Goicoechea-Franco) We are dysfunctionally functional... we are loud, we argue, we are passionate, we are stubborn; but at the end of the day we have our backs.

32 years of being the most blessed person ever! 32 years of being completely and utterly lucky.

I do not know what I did to deserve such a blessing; just hope this becomes 32 multiplied by a thousand years.

32 not really a lucky number, but it is the number of years that as of today I've been blessed.

I bid you good bye, 32 years older and 32 years happier.

Picture this...

You have to make a work trip; not so exited because it is literally working lunches, a very cold weather for this caribbean sun lover, and a four hour wait for your connecting flight.

Your boss's assistant has booked so many trips for the company that she actually manages to bump you up to first class... "This might actually be a pleasant flight" (you think to yourself)

There you are sitting in first class zipping on a mimosa when this very old, very poorly dressed guy sits right next to you...

"Oh GREAT"... how on earth can this man be allowed dressed like that in first class.

He was sweaty, wearing very old very torn knee long jeans, a black t-shirt that wa almost gray, and some very old very dirty pair of tennis shoes.

He was very nice and would not shut up... he did not get that I was not interested in talking to him, but manners kicked in (I blame my mom completely!!!) and trying not to be rude I politely listened to what this random old guy had to say.

Ironically enough, after 15 mins I was actually paying attention and enjoying the conversation.

It turned out, this guy actually had a very successful business, he sold it and was enjoying his old age travelling and meeting new people... he loved talking and I enjoyed listening...

So, from this random old guy (I honestly do not remember his name) I learned three valuable lessons that I will never forget.


  1. Save at least one dollar of every paycheck - (You don't know what will happen tomorrow)
  2. Work Smart not Hard - (It's not about busting your a%^ off, it's about getting results and having time to enjoy them)
  3. Life is not fair - (There will always be someone less prepared who got the job, there will always be someone who will not value your effort, and there will always be loss at some point of time... Hey! that's life... and NO it is never fair, but you have to make the best of it)

Incredibly enough one of the most valuable lessons I've learned in life came from a random old guy.

Why write about this now, when this happened two years ago? simple... recent events make you revisit lessons if you did not learn them well at the time.

So I say good bye with this: "Never underestimate the value of others advise and never forget that even though life is not fair, I can assure you, it's worth living!!!"









What is a dream?... And I'm not talking about the dream that you have when you go to sleep and live in fantasy land, I'm talking about that idea that does not come out of your head... that scene you replay in your head every single time you have a chance.

Can dreams come true? I believe they do... but hey what do I know, I'm the girl that stopped chasing her dreams because she needed to please everyone...

And here I am 15 years older and hopefully a few years wiser, working my $%^* off to help the dreams of others... why do I say it in a bitter way? because their dream is not contagious; and here is a crazy thought, I think dreams indeed can be contagious, as long as the ultimate goal is something you want badly as well.

So again... What is a dream? a dream is something the a lot of people in the world will come together and tell you it can't be done... a dream is something so frightening that you can barely breathe but you still want it will all your heart...

So even if the world is against you, don't let go of your dream, work on it, nourish it, bring it to live! and then when your dream becomes your reality share it with those few individuals that supported you, and rub it in the face of those who didn't... (Wait did I just write that???) I'm kidding, those who wanted to hold you back need to be shown that nothing is impossible, but that it requires hard work, determination and sometimes becoming deaf, a dream will never require you to stop being yourself; uniqueness is something rare in this world.

So ... What is a dream? a dream is the not so far away future of a few,
and the frustration of many that instead of nourishing it kill it because it's too hard.  






Esta es un un cuento dedicado a mi querido padre en el día de su cumpleaños:



"Erase una vez, no hace mucho tiempo atrás y en un reino no muy lejano un Rey que era justo, bondadoso, amoroso; este rey gobernaba su tierra con con Amor y era amado por todos.

Ademas de tener riquezas y inimaginables, tenia la mejor riqueza de todas, tenia una familia unida, que se amaban entre sí y lo amaban a él.

Pero a pesar de ser un GRAN rey, en todos los reinados de esa época había una escasez de electricidad y la población se quedaba en oscuridad total por largos periodos de tiempo; cuando esto ocurría el Rey salía a la terraza de su gran castillo con su reina, príncipes y súbditos a esperar la claridad.

Pero que pasa, a la princesa la oscuridad la llenaba de pánico, y de la única forma que este miedo era aplacado era cuando el Rey le hacía historias; verán, el Rey era MUY intimidante, pero nunca lo fue para la princesa.

El rey hacía lo mejor posible por contarle la historia menos trágica y más femenina que se sabía, "la caperucita roja"; pero la princesa anhelaba escuchar cuentos de hadas; y todas las noches después de oír el cuento de la caperucita roja pedía lo mismo:

 - Padre puedes hacerme otro cuento?
 - Cómo cuál? (replicaba el Rey)
 - Quizas la cenicienta?
 - No querida hija mía, no me se ningun otro cuento.


La princesa amaba a su padre con locura y entendía que esas historias no eran algo con lo que el Rey la pudiera complacer.

Pasó el tiempo y unos magos del Rey pudieron crear artefactos que retenían la electricidad, y asi la princesa no tendría más miedo; pero que paso, al irse esos momentos de oscuridad, se fueron también los cuentos de la caperucita y el Rey nunca se pudo aprender un cuento de hada.

La princesa creció, formó su propio reino (si es una princesa moderna) y entonces la princesa entendió que le correspondía a ella hacerle los cuentos de hada al rey...

Pero paso algo curioso, a la misma princesa se le olvidaron los cuentos de hadas, pero decidida en buscarle un cuento al rey, se puso a buscar, indagar libros y nada...

Fue entonces cuando casi derrotada, sonrío, no tenía un cuento de hada, pero si un cuento real c; fue a donde su padre y le dijo así :

"Padre tras años y años de buscar ya entendi que habia una razon detras de tu no poder aprenderte un cuento de hada, es que ya mi final feliz lo tuve, ya mi mas grande amor existe; y ya no puedo pedir más a esta tierra; pues mi mas grande amor esta parado en frente de mi, y nunca tendre un final feliz, porque nuestro amor nunca tendra un final, ya no existe en el mundo padre que ame más a sus hijos, y no existe tampoco hija que ame mas a su Rey, su padre!"

 Feliz Cumple Papiringo!



























I wish I didn't have to talk and people could just read my thoughts...

My silences usually speak more than my words, but my silences are usually harsher... They scream at me begging me to put a stop to the madness surrounding me.

How can I diplomatically ask you if you have lost your mind???

How can I sweetly ask you to go to hell?

Have you really mistaken my silence for stupidity? have you really no clue of how insufferable your codependency is?

You blame me for being too attached, to submissive; however apparently you have confused my politeness for submission... it seems you really don't know me at all.

I might have a heart attack and die and you would have no clue that you're silently causing me mini-heart attacks accompanied by absolute  pain and frustration; and there when I'm about to speak, when I'm about to say something, it hits me that probably my words can be the cause of mini-heart attacks and frustration...

So after giving it much thought and consideration, I decide not listen to my harsh silence and keep holding it inside.

So the question still remains... to speak or not speak.