Friday, November 02, 2007


My life doesn’t suck; I suck at living my life. It’s not like I could blame the world for being so hard, my family for working so hard at giving me a good life, this city for being so hot, this routine for being so boring this writing for being so… Anyways, nothing to blame directly about my life, personally so called existence. [smiles]

The story of my life is meant to be told by the others that hopefully know me, because maybe I just recognize myself…? Or maybe it’s just a phase, blindness, a pessimism, realism, a comfort zone, a common sense, a point of view, a meaningless thing.

My life has good and bad stories, some bads to be goods and vice versa.

When I was born some local doctors said I wasn’t going to live. Because I had this gullet’s disorder and therefore all I ate went down to the wrong place, windpipe, instead of to my stomach… Then I easily chocked and developed all sorts of problems like pneumonia, bronchitis and whatnot. I went through two surgeries to correct the disorder, one a few hours after I was born – had to fly to Rio immediately, and the other at the age of three. Those are the few times I traveled in my life, Rio and São Paulo a couple of times… Such a pity that I don’t remember much of these, except from my memories of when I was three and played video games with my cousins (yes, I have relatives in Rio), learned to swim at the building’s pool where they live, and the smell of the garage.

This story seems to be my parent’s treasure, the victory. But I’m tired of listening to it over and over for 21 years now, it would make a good Mexican soap opera, oh yes. Would I make a good Thalia? *looks at my belly* Naahhh…

Those local doctors were really stupid at that time. They invented all sorts of diseases for me. Interesting how my exams took long rides in many doctor’s hands and none of them noticed a simple detail of my disorder’s cause that was clear in a damn X-Ray exam, mhm…Reminds me of “Where’s Wally?” cartoon; luckily a lady in São Paulo was a good doctor and found Wally, I mean… the cause of my problem. [skips out on this subject]

So! My existential follows old routines, of good and bad moments. But mostly boring routines. Yes, I could change the methods, manners, ways of doing things and having a new perspective, but I’d not name it “routine” if I did it, and my life would be a kind of senseless. It has to change, now and then changes are good, no wait; necessary; there´s self-esteem involved on it.

I don’t have to reckon with so many problems as some people do, but they are my problems and at some point they seems to be heavier than the other’s, because I may be the main problem, and only me can handle it, it’s a peculiar load that I must know how to carry for years, without wearing it down so much and cause damages… In Administration it would be called having a good logistic!

But well, I could simply summarize the story of my life with the word “existence”, expecting to live more often, and hoping to live one day…

Kate Polladsky

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