2006 Annual Statement. (Did they think were going to get my annual address? Well this year will not give in taste. I give the taste.) For more background on my annual addresses, visit: http://elpoleno.blogspot.com/2005/10/discurso-anual-2005.html Santiago, October 12 , 2006
(I know that this effort is useless anyway finish typing 15 in the morning, without sleeping. I know that this effort is in vain anyway, does anyone write a speech for his birthday? )
Well, they're 19. This year there are no dreams to give away, or budget to send letters. However, before delving into tragedies, I read someone I should not read, and remembered that the flames of hell have not even touched me. It is necessary, therefore, write something else.
Santiago, October 15, 2006
(6:00 AM)
(prediction fulfilled. With a smile after seeing two bottles of Polish vodka - "to buffalo" - and many stamps of this country, I continue.)
"In the absence" of dreams and hopes, I've tried to give in other discourses, what remains? (Because now I feel I could give those strange assets) That question has been haunting me, and I have found an answer.
In the current context, without Institute far less time than I ever had to go to roam city streets, and many other incidental absences, the moments appear stronger and more valued. And it's not bad to learn to appreciate the moment, to live, to enjoy this moment, although it could well happen later, is unique and unrepeatable (and imperfect, but that does not matter). This year could be said to have missed several things, but moments to treasure. Come to my mind some. A shirt instead of feared water pump, an ice cream to soothe the nerves in days too hectic. An unexpected overnight trip to a neighboring province, and an even more unexpected bike ride, with vertigo of walking the streets and a strange sense of peace. Dances in hidden alleys and walks of micro do in two minutes (but that train could take half a day to do, right?). Everyday life such as the walk every Friday at Alameda, always a good time, or open a box of CDs and there find ...
(O be writing this speech and a song that says there is a place in the sun will stop. )
(And then you stop talking about fighting another lost in your city ... Someone called the radio?)
moments of which has been very full this year are something to be thankful. Another is the
presence ... And here I have to make an explicit reference. Because it was you, Claudia Pavez of words that remain, which I talked about the presence of heart a year ago, and made me see something I had not seen. I have come to believe you were right, that was the most important. And that the others will come to you ... because this year I remember having to fight someone to claim their presence, and have come together on their own moments of roads. Of strange modes appear presences ... As in the Sports Blog Melipilla. Believing an entire year writing for almost anyone, and it reaches the anniversary that readers have names and faces. Not only are, are. Recognizing that many times one hopes, wants, and needs the tangible and visible presence, to know this in the hearts of others and "having" to those who bring in the soul, is a considerable blessing.
and feelings. Those who have avoided for quite a time (rather, I avoided) rephrase that in words, for some, lovely. Until I learned that other gestures do no harm. May have lost the memory of the time or the exact situation, but I can not forget, Seba, the first time I gave you a hug and left to call "Wheel." Remember? Well, although at times been believed to express feelings are not worth it, sometimes that "effort was in vain, I must admit that those occasions are minimal, and that I am wrong in thinking that, because although the moment I think the people and situations have changed, then maybe it was valuable. I think I gained much more than they could have lost (not really know what I lost ... I think nothing) in this process of expressing feelings and stop fearing it. I won enough, many people helped along the way, and continues to help. Best of all is that they are. While we may not be the same, is his memory and his mark.
Last but not least, (and further something which is always) learning. Nor can I forget the phrase "things that everyone has learned from the other", which always travels in my wallet, written in that paper did not expect.
had a doubt, and I have four answers. And I have some poor, because I think that is something for which I give thanks. And if Teiilier
said that the only truth is that "breathe and stop breathing", here I am, breathing 19.
you soon. Those who know me, know I use little "goodbye."
Eduardo Esteban Barra Peñailillo
President Poleni popular (and other nations imagined).
editor, publisher and editor of
"The adventures and misadventures of Melipilla Sports."
ideologue and idle after "micro tickets, The Ticket fotolog!
Webmaster
"Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus in English."
1st year student of BA in History, Universidad Alberto Hurtado.
Member of youth training (3 years, more than 100 meetings, "and yet" we can not have a name !!??) of San Rafael Parish.
the 4th the 7th I 2000-I 2006, National Institute.
"Pepón Doll", "Peñailo", "pollen" ...
And as many titles rather than imaginary. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
Roll the pencil, roll, roll. Banda Giving oral evidence is not an easy matter, I think, while I, like my colleagues who sit on the benches review their notes, of retaining vast amounts of information that is absolutely impossible that we could retain ten minutes, although insurance would pay if someone can promise that, to put it in a way, become "swallow" those sheets of paper filled with notes, and articles accumulated in those piles of photocopies of which there are only four copies of each and have to fight them before someone else take it early. But it is not possible, and there we are. We are waiting for the executioner cut off the head, to make an analogy. As man is usually a be (forgive the redundancy) unable to keep quiet, especially after suffering a significant accumulation of feelings, the output of the first victims turns out to be something that upsets. The company, which leads to the course for any activity or any of the existing long called for a strike or demonstration, comes out in a state of near hysteria, pulls out his cell phone and vent publicly and privately, crying in a broken voice that he knew the answers to the questions posed to others who crossed the threshold of what is usually a room, but now it has become a torture chamber, beside her, that he did not read one article was devoted to such a "green card", a word that does not sound, I think, as I so often look bored with the same notes and I have decided to stoic for my business, to Medieval Philosophy classes serve me something: The questions I will, two items will be I could not read due to lack of dossiers, so I planted a nice one as a note, and there is not much to ask. Stoicism, I repeat, to convince, as pessimism has worked on many other occasions. are gradually leaving the other mourners of the occasion, with eyes lowered heads, short, and resigned expression. Wonder if he has known someone who has folded his hand to the target, or rather, a executioner questions turn, as in the first class had told us not to be afraid, but in oral evidence to Students usually fare poorly. One, I respond. A. Rather than betting on the chances of emulating, I betting the resigned stoicism, because I know I will not learn or remember the characteristics of the ceramic Molle in the short or long moments of my stay. Suddenly, with slightly satisfied smile and a touch of sadism as they run out dentists find their patients, he, the teacher that the other day looked down by its size and now has become impassable giant, Sphinx to which we are not any Theseus, out to find new victims. Some and some take their backpacks, ready to go. In a couple of faces you see some optimism, or a laugh that they are nervous. In others, frowning. "Missing one," he says, and I, who have tried to keep to quiet all this time that makes anyone would freeze a little blood, look at the rest, and no one stands up. Nobody gets up. Resignation, I think. Let's finish this, as I close the bag to go, last gladiator who bow to Caesar in this fight, and pulled out as the only weapon which trident, a pencil. A pencil, yes. A little trick that I have recommended. And not to write down the answers in hand. If oral evidence before a torpedo no worth. I keep the short hallway, and I join the line of trembling and nervous, sitting, waiting, "a stroke of luck" as that song by Lucho Jara said. You know, know if we will be playing dance with ugly or luciremos us on the track. While asking the names I take to practice with the pen, which has only one useful for me. Roll it. I brought it just to roll with the hands, with that passage from one side to the same side, spiral and endless cycle, I disentangle and relax, if that's possible. Sorry to pass between my thumb and forefinger, moving as if all that happened at the time, like a breeze that comes not know where, setting a different time of the second, different clock ticking . In the midst of this sensation asks my name. I tell you, with acute middle that little voice that I never would contest to win a radio announcer. "Peñailillo" he repeated, and, like all those people, like most people, like my friend's dad, launches a funny anecdote believed, noting that he had a girlfriend in the basic of that name, which he said "Peñagrillo. He laughs slightly, I invent some laughter. Once also told me so. People often have problems with my surname, and others as well. Past. I do not let me disturb the memory. I roll the pencil a little more. begin the questions. The first to respond outlines a response, stumbling, but manages to something coherent. A five award a few drops of sweat that run from the hair. Next question, and is one of an article I read and I can not remember. A chubby seems also passed swiftly by that document is not very useful, do not know. Then a girl who usually greet me, and uses what she calls "bullet lens." Neither succeeds. I would not be the exception, if my turn, I think, and I roll the pencil rapidly, anxiety, someone answers, I do not know. He is someone who has good background. "Do not deliver the job," said the professor. The guy did not intend to outline excuses. Already, the same question. And he knows. Something known. Yes, something known, the intensity decreases and returns my money at that rate of Rosario you purchased while you hear about the weichafe and provide details, of course, could not recall anywhere in my memory. ends, having convinced relative to the teacher, and I looked at the pen spin, twist and turn. Still another, which gives a very clear answer to your question. Then the girl next to me. She is nervous, you'll note in his voice, and I do not watch it. There's the pen, providing the necessary distraction, diverting my attention with its passage through the tips of my fingers, tips of my fingers, I think, as she is pitching ideas, some correct, others that have nothing to do with Culture Llo -Lleo, and Professor calmadita tells you, do not be nervous, and she swallows, returned to the charge, but nothing much happens but again confused. I shake my head, and saying to myself that no, it's not Llo-Lleo, which is Molle, and look at the top of the pen. She finished, and I raise my head, while turning the device that has managed to divert my attention from the nerves and bald head that looks at me, and I look with some comfort and a hint of a smile, and asks me talk to you about Aconcagua. Aconcagua. It took me a moment's rest, two forward and two reverse turns the black pencil that accompanies me to draw an "as is" makes me win reprimanded for using a crutch. Another twist in pencil, safety, and changed to a "is" because it is PIT in Central Chile, and look at me "well" and then I remember the exact dating, which brings a smile to the Inquisitor hear, and then I remember the presence of irrigation canals, there is no rock art, as I said Niemeyer, and even out of my memory the categories of ceramics and serving, remembering the pucos, which had been smoothed brown "look egg "for their coarseness, but that it was essential for its role in cooking. I pause. "Parties and English horse," he says, I remember the colt, a foal that few know, and tell me continue. I remember two or three things. "Anything else?" He asks. I roll the pen with audible clicks and see if the pace gives me another answer. Nothing more. I hope, look at the sheet, and says, "a six ...". Do not listen to what follows. A six is \u200b\u200bthe number that will follow, is more than I expected. Second round of questions. Five truck was in the first two of the respondents, because they just can answer one or two words about what you ask. My prayer has pencil passes slowly between my fingers, and after hearing the number of four letters and mentally I can go with something music, and no longer "Boxers" because though they bring a knockout in the last question, at least I won a round. The first container is removed, and our executioner out of an ace up his sleeve that he had cut many heads in the previous round. Question by a "maca". The fat man laughs nerves, and do not know. A one. The girl with the glasses does not know, and attempts to articulate an excuse for a license that no one can understand well. It is not helpful, of course. It is less people in that room, and not delivered the work of again. And when he says "Inca" I know that is not with "c", that the case is called "makka" and that if our questioner had said "aryballos" probably one of the above questioned could have given the answer. Gives enough detail boy, while I took the face and open mouth with an expression of "I remember everything," as if they had replanted the memory, and then back to the pen, thinking that this question will not be for me, as It skips some details that make a four and remove both, and the lack of work does not give a good grade, but earned the epithet of "intelligent" teacher. It has a good mitigating, however. Not be easy to do a thesis in Sociology at the same time trying to study for a field like this, archaeological items, ceramics incisions tembetá and reticulate. We were three. One response is a rather bad, and a note of that. Then the girl again, and for the current to the nerves, the nerves that I have not been unleashed and myself have been unable to shake the legs, as so often in performances of flute and infinite terminal, I'm going to casting the mill that is my pen and turns, strong enough to expel a channel of peace that the Stoics such as envy thought a while ago, and that it has the girl next to me, this time responds more conclusions than clear, and is about to break, and the teacher tells him to calm down, and this time his answer is not given for good note. Leaves, holding back as he can. Go to the bathroom, I guess. "We are alone, I think, and I laugh to myself. Paul looks outside, anxious for him to touch him, but allowed me a gesture of encouragement, I appreciate the time I try to avoid, because I was disruptive in the rate of pen that has rolled and rolled over the question undetermined minutes; lifeline of this shipwreck. Last question, and after some comments, the inquisitor was given the task of thinking what to ask this guy. Tell me about the Mapuche descent system. And my mouth seem to come out a story when I hear you say "It all started when Jose Toribio Medina ..." and then I remember the controversy Latcham-Guevara, and current, that current strong economy with as little turbulence that has enabled the mill flow through my hands in invisible water, it raises the count of the Indians of the Isla Mocha, and Silva, and double descent, and lakou CuGa. Anything else?, I hear that again. No, no more. "There were some details of the article by Silva, but that's okay." A 6.4 tells me, and paradoxes of fate, I work it down to 6.1. "That's life, I think, still unconvinced that both very existence has brought me a shout well on a test like that, and that those orders have contained pseudo-parkinson my usually break out at times much more trivial than this. I make a few inquiries, I said that those who do go missing, and leave. I ask one or two as I was. It went well, what else could I say?, And their faces are still with them quizzically detail that was a six-one. Enter all, because there are no more, except the thumbs-up, which must cope with the speech, now have to expand on the paper. Let them deal with their own lions, and I go down the stairs and runs down the stairs the girl who goes to meet his lover, with an undisguised smile, and I still feel the spin, good turn, El Salvador turn of that pencil between my fingers, which was more than just a pencil, I think, as I tell myself that I have folded the hand, and that makes me laugh in silence, and makes me want to tell someone. (Any resemblance to reality ... It is no coincidence.) Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
war. The yellow micro Gonzalo father took them from Puente Alto to center that was always the most important presentation year. Because it was not presented at the Lyceum, to the laughter of many, and admiration of the very few who go out and paraded through the streets of Santiago, with so many people in so many parts you are looking to go through the martial rhythm Peña's stern gaze to not commit any error, because "here do not make mistakes, young people, not take them out for a walk, but to march." The procession of the Virgen del Carmen was an event for the marching band del Liceo Industrial San Jose de Puente Alto, and he, Roberto, this year going forward. Guaripola. With his mother looking at him in uniform, "more perfect than ever," Robert looked pass the streets as I thought I could not forget the moves. Top, right, forward, back. A hint of nervousness was going through her mind, but then Kathy started hitting the bass drum, scaring them and making everyone laugh. Then he turned his eyes on the street. So Fourteen was familiar territory, but beyond that I could count the times he had gone. I could hardly remember when he lived elsewhere, was very small, and it seemed he had come to life has always been at his home in the Villa Los Peumos equal to those who were near land of identical houses. had to leave and walk away from the micro to the Plaza de Armas ("Did you bring your passport?" Someone asked, and laughed with his teeth slightly yellow). Were the two recently, and the procession began at four. The sun was strong, but his booming voice Peña knew overcome any distractions for sun and say I expected that lucieran, which had been tested for that week, and prepared all year. Spent reviewing the uniform as he watched those old buildings that looked so strange, so alien, as if it were somewhere else. "Let's see! Stop pajaronas, Perez, and let me start moving!" he shouted in his ear the band director, since time began waving their hands to receive an almost inaudible "Yeah, right" for cards. While waiting in the sun came out it, one to which her mother called "Virgin" and on whose behalf he blessed every morning when he left. That was its meaning to him, but still saw it go amazed at its poles monumental statue with its beauty, because the party was decked her, but deigned to give him some prominence to these boys come across of the city march to the passage of one, two, one, two. She would go back, reminding the rhythm, telling people who to see. They announced over the lady, flattening the pavement, calling people that came out to look, and pass them strangers for an evening march and received applause martial people would not see. steady grip the metal stick. I was ready. Broke the martial who asked only to look back and make sure there was his mother, who smiled to encourage him. For the speakers sounded the call for the procession, which was to begin. Peña stared at him, and he put a serious face to let you know he was ready, and make it right. The first people began to march, and the curious who crossed Square looked on with puzzled eyes. He looked around the field of view of the square and turned just in time to hear the "Now" Pena, and then, with the first movement of staff, began to sound boxes, drums, horns and the triangle. Left, right, left. Doubling the street left behind strange square and old buildings were delivered to the pavement and sunshine, the parade and the sound of the march. Peña, from time to time, I looked to see that is not devolved. And in the first blocks began to appear people who gathered at the sides to watch. Roberto could not help but look away - "Firm and in front!", As so often had shouted Peña to test-to see them. Some smiling faces to watch them go, especially the more elderly people, those who also was always filled with the procession. And he also saw them as he went. Those faces of large families and blonde, like on TV. In the distance, the buses and cars diverted to make way for them. Well, not them, the Virgin and all that followed. But to them, yes. Along the way martial which never walked down the street. In his eyes straight ahead, rarely looked like their heads down. A posture that day, and perhaps only that day, had a motive to stand, to tell these people and these buildings "here I am." Here I am, here leave, one, two, one two, and she looks and looks at us and smiles. Their march culminated at the pedestrian walkway. Never mind the heat, the sore feet. Were the cheers, the eyes shining on them, once on them. When the bank and could finally leave the instruments, were saisfechos and laughed. Kathy remembered the tense moment that she almost dropped the stick, and laughed: nothing had happened, only a cold sweat it passed an instant. "Well, well," said Peña. His mother would not let go, saw her smile and could not help more with getting an expression that was not typical, but it was so comforting when you have it. They saw it happen to her, the queen of the feast, and so happy, I felt like Mrs. winked his eyes lifeless. He took the hand, as mothers do when they are proud, and walked along the pedestrian walkway. I bought a bag of chips they were eating and laughing. Laughing and laughing with the boys as often as they sat two hours in a micro to reach those strange places and walk in gang, laughing, but that laughter could hide the trace of bitterness in their mouths and eyes. Greetings, SE, LERM. Eduardo Peñailillo B.
