Resi guard: "You had a blog?"
Vitote: "Yes"
Resi guard: "What was his name?"
Vitote: "He came to practice ..."
Resi guard: "Ah was you!"
Vitote: "Yes, I was"
Resi guard: "What why do not you keep writing? "
Vitote:" Because I'm tired, I did not want to talk about the Atleti, fatigue, unhappiness and earwax "
guard Resi: "Well, speaking of children who return to hear and cured of their cancer patients'
Long time no read us right?. It was a hard parting hands away from the keyboard for a chronic addict and the story is somewhat hard something hard that I had to do. And I did so selfish, thinking of me, which I do of cherries to figs. When you start you have to be internal as an infiltrator in a band of gangsters, trying to keep my mouth shut, listen and learn to act like them, to move like them, talk like them. You enter a world far more complex than you imagined when you were locked up in these four walls with a bag of pages in front of your face. Stop being Vitote, you start to be the Doctor Victor, and even today you still playing a joke.
But, despite what it says my robe, I'm still Vitote, and realize it has taken me months. Cost me remember that I want to continue down to foul the face, albeit less committed, with my rugby mates. It has taken me to remember that when a student wanted to be a kind of doctor and that door guards were turning me into another. Cost me remember that I write, a medical doctor, I'm still the same as the age of sixteen he decided he wanted to be a writer.
Many times, we need a major crisis to realize who we are, or as I tell my Coerr "things based learning punched in the teeth." That moment when you hit rock bottom mentally, physically and emotionally, you feel like your head is reset and go back to the origin of all, the zero point, essentially, to what really matters. Aristotle called this moment "catharsis", or whatever it is, purification. When you completely empty, is when you realize who the fuck you are.
My point was this New Year's Eve. As fate, I ended up spending New Year in the hospital against my will. But after responding to that call and the initial anger that drove me to refuse went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. While I washed, I saw the shield of my jersey to be home: "UNIVERSITY OF SALAMANCA RUGBY" . Suddenly, I remembered everything. The mud, blood, blows, defeats ... but also remember that despite this, he always had a smile on your mouthguard, always had a word of support and always had a companion to the side that will help me up . I remembered that I cared more about the team to win games. I also remembered that my coach shouted, pushing me, I sat on the bench and hit my shoulder to become a hooker. I had no talent to be hooker, but nevertheless, I peeled cold, pulled teeth and fought over and over again to get the number to take my shirt off the "2" . And I got it. I did not become a great hooker, but I became a hooker, and most importantly, I learned to be a better person along the journey.
That night I ate the grapes in the hospital. The next day was still there, tired, exhausted, but with a smile on his face. He returned to Vitote, I'm back on track, and even now does not bear the "2" to the back, I have to keep working as they come to meet my shortcomings, I have to continue this journey and ended up being a better person than I was when I started.
I'm back ...
Recommendations of the week:
Music: Lords of Shadow OST Castlevania "Oscar Araújo, an epic on par with melancholy symphony at the level of the best.
Cinema: "3:19", a film about the chances and friendship ... nothing is as it seems.
Sports: Athletic Madrid-Athletic de Bilbao, the match between Atletico never disappoints. Not usually watch football of Nouvelle Cuisine, is football pot on the fire, strong, traditional, and no less exciting. Football before.
0 comments:
Post a Comment