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JANUARY 2025
★ 1 ★
Journos are at it again Un artículo de Aceprensa dice: «Para José Francisco Serrano, catedrático de Periodismo de la Universidad CEU San Pablo y directivo de la Asociación de Prensa de Madrid, un periodista “es una persona que asume la delegación de la sociedad para trabajar con una serie de criterios de carácter técnico y deontológico en la transmisión de la información y de las ideas en la sociedad”».
He ahí el origen de la arrogancia del periodista: se cree que ha recibido una “delegación” de la sociedad, y no hay tal; a través del proceso democrático hay una delegación a los políticos, con la consabida constante decepción que son. ¿Anhelan ser algo similar los periodistas? Esa sería la fuente de su arrogancia de creer tener algún insight peculiar en cómo debería manejarse una sociedad.
El panadero no ha recibido “una delegación de la sociedad para hacer pan”; simplemente se arriesga a venderlo, y si es bueno y el barrio lo necesita, tendrá clientes. Lo mismo los periodistas, que como explicamos hace años,es un ciudadano más usando su libertad de expresión; si lo hace bien y logra tener audiencia y prestigio, se convertirá en referente; si no, no, y la sociedad no tiene ningún “deber de creerle” por el solo hecho de ser periodista.
★ 2 ★
Don’t say “hello” A short Medium article recommends skipping “hellos” because it could sound scammy in this day and age, and because “It’s throat-clearing. When I was a freelance writer years ago, an editor took one of my articles and slashed out 20% with his red pen. ‘Stop clearing your throat,’ he said. ‘It’s boring to read. Cut out that filler and get to the point’.”
It left me thinking: create setting or move the plot! Something must happen! There's no time for long-winded descriptions, what with our short attention spans.
★ 3 ★
Two or three trick ponies Brian Collins on Medium narrates what Jon Batiste, a musician, told when interviewed by Tim Ferris: “People, whether creative or not… have two, maybe three ideas in life. We have two ideas that we are constantly refining, recreating, presenting. Refining, recreating, presenting. And it’s your life’s idea set.”
Isn’t that right? My two ideas would be: 1) Education could easily be improved if it were personalized; and 2) there are A LOT of structural problems with the Ecuadorian government, and the first discussion of policy, should be addressing them beforehand.
Of course these ideas of mine are met with total indifference by my friends, family and the public at large; but that’s another problem, haha.
It says: «27. Develop a Willingness to Be Disliked. This will grant you the freedom to do what needs to be done, even if it’s unpopular. 28. You Cannot Be a Life-Changing Presence to Some People Without Also Being a Complete Fucking Joke to Others. Part of the price of having impact is some hate. And usually that hate is proportional to the impact.»
It describes my experience with my “two ideas” presented before: as much as I try to share them, people not only reject them, but get incensed, even when I show they work, or maybe precisely because they do work!
The only hope is that for a little while I showed a few people that some other way of living is possible. I floated ideas for others to see a better possible world. After all, we don’t have ideas, but ideas have us, remember?
We must be sacrificed in order for our ideas to live on!
★ 5 ★
Another good Medium article with good re-read value has many important remarks on writing:
I’m using the word story here to stand for a complete essay with a beginning, middle, and end, where the writer overcomes some obstacle, a truth is learned, or some other sort of meaningful shit occurs. An anecdote is just something that happened — an incident. You go to the dentist and someone says something funny. It might be an amusing bit for the dinner table, but it’s not a story because you haven’t made it one yet.
This is the difference between retelling something that happened to you and what a writer does. If something crazy happens to a normal person, they have been gifted a story. A writer creates stories out of the flotsam and jetsam of life. We take the mundane and bring it to life. We make it a story. You can’t wait for life to drop gold in your lap, you have to be an active participant in seeking it out.
A professional photographer makes a photo, they don’t capture one. Anyone can take a good picture in perfect circumstances. The difference between a pro and an amateur is that a pro can do it on demand, and do it every time no matter what the conditions. The amateur needs all the planets to be aligned.
Every time I see one of those “nofilter” hashtags, I think, “What a schmuck.” Pros use filters to trick the camera into revealing what our eyes see.
That tells the truth on the trade!: use your talent to turn something mundane into interesting. For those of us who lack literary talent, there's always the plot twists & conflict we've mentioned before.
Speaking of drama:
In my experience, the travel story where everything is lovely and nothing bad happens is a complete waste of everyone’s time. It’s like showing us your Instagram feed from Jamaica. Why do we give a damn about the vacation you took? You gave us nothing. We learned nothing. You just made us watch your shitty home movies. Writing flaccid travel stories where nothing happens is the modern equivalent.
Ha! Well put. Inside we all are a little mean & envious—“Not a very masculine trait, envy” used to say a former friend—and we couldn't care less for those perfect portrayals on social media. "So you're so affluent and you were having fun? Well, F U!" But we're drawn to drama & conflict—negativity bias, I suppose—and guess what? There's always drama & conflict underneath those picture-perfect portrayals on social media!
He goes on: «When I do sit down to write, I never start at the beginning. We left for the airport at 6 am. I begin by writing a scene in the middle that struck my fancy. I need that first sentence to tell me what it’s about, or at least where I want it to go. The story doesn’t always cooperate.» Hear, hear! That’s a good tip, to just “throw” the reader into the middle of a scene, and build from there.
More often than not, I start with the title and the subtitle. They provide a pretty good roadmap for where I think I’m going. While they are quite likely to change before I’m finished, this helps to guide me. What do I think I’m trying to say? It can change, but you have to start somewhere.
It doesn’t really matter what the story is, it has to connect to some part of my life so that I’m interested and engaged. Something learned or remembered, a piece of literature or a movie scene, a bit of information that connects the dots for me to a larger truth about myself and the world in which I live. The event — the anecdote — is merely the catalyst for bringing that idea forward. What did this experience teach me about myself and the sweaty mass of humanity swirling around me?
That sounds like a good tool to break away from writer’s block: begin in the middle of an anecdote, with a title and subtitle as guides, and weave the story from there.
I’m always looking for an emotional connection with the reader. It might be anger, disgust, romance, love, hate, fear, or hope. It’s all grist for the mill. I don’t intentionally set out to make the reader feel a particular way.
I’ve always considered writers who are able to make you feel things, the best; the ones who can plant you in a roller-coaster of emotions whether you like it or not, the ones who use their talent to do as they please with the reader. But those are the masters. Us humble hacks have to make do with our limited talents:
I might be asking them to join me on a little journey and experience the emotional roller coaster we’re on. Other times, it’s clear that I’m out of my gourd and I’m simply spinning out for their amusement. Sometimes, I’m just revealing how cracked and broken I am because that’s how I feel that day and I know that many others feel the same and will relate.
I realize that sounds like a lot of emotional woo-woo. What I’m trying to pull out of you is this: What does that boat ride you took have to do with me? It doesn’t have anything to do with you, you say, it’s my story. Ah, so you want me to be engaged with something I have no interest or involvement in?
If we can’t relate to your story, we stop reading. But if you give me details that grab my attention, and reveal a certain amount of vulnerability, humanity, and personal connection, I can empathize and suddenly I’m not watching from the shore. I’m in the boat with you.
As I say, my writing goal is “words that are better than silence.” To entertain, to teach…, to make the reader’s time worthwhile.
When you take a small story and begin to relate it to your own life and experiences, suddenly you have all these possible paths to explore. Suddenly, it has the ability to become a much larger story. It gives you the space to have your own character arc, with a beginning, middle, and end. You are met with an obstacle, work to overcome it, possibly with the help of a guide, and are transformed somehow in the end. A classic story structure.
That’s the beauty of creativity, or “having ideas make love” as James Altucher used to say: you get new baby ideas.
I enjoy a darkly funny trip of misery into the mundane. When I’m in full writer mode, I’m game for anything, the worse the better. If you’re open to the story of your life, you’ll see things you never saw before, and notice things you never noticed. Look forward to that tedious chore or errand. There’s gold out there waiting to be mined.
When I’m open, I talk to people, random people, service people. They’ll tell you all manner of crazy shit if you just bother to be friendly and ask them questions about themselves. You won’t believe how quickly they’ll spill their guts. The trick is to remember to get into writer mode when you walk out the door. It makes the world such a more interesting place.
That’s another interesting concept: “writer mode”! That way we could hopefully get rid of crippling social anxiety and shyness, and encourage creativity in a newly-discovered, magic world full of wonders. In “writer mode,” not only the world will be a more interesting place, but the writer himself!
I’m fascinated by openings. Opening sentences and paragraphs. For me, it’s an amalgamation of ad copy, literature, poetry, and song lyrics, but with a purpose. It’s an exciting opportunity to really craft something special. A perfect combination of intrigue and wordplay that entices the reader to carry on. When I’m writing fiction, I begin each chapter as if it’s the beginning of the book. You can do the same thing in your essays.
Very important to remember in these times of short attention spans!
You’ve written your anecdote down to the best of your ability, and it’s good, but it’s not enough. What do you do now? Where do we go from here? I hit return and then type three asterisks in a row “***” and then I begin again. Forget what came before. Start fresh. What’s the next chapter of the story? Tell another story about a similar experience, or begin with some exposition about what the previous act meant to you. You don’t have to know where you’re going yet. Your mind will fill in the details.
What did the first part remind you of? What movie, song, poem, memory, or arcane piece of knowledge does it evoke for you? Start there and see where it takes you. As you write, things pop into your mind and you chase them for a while. You’ll reach dead ends and have to go back a paragraph or two and begin again. I’ve taken six to eight paragraphs out of this piece already, one at a time, because each one was getting off course. I don’t delete them. I cut and paste them into another document to be used later. I have two to three more essays already waiting for me. I waste nothing.
It surely seems he knows what he’s talking about!
In my experience, if you’re having trouble writing, you’re not reading enough. It’s good to read a wide range of things, but if you’re working on a personal essay, read personal essays. If you’re writing fiction, read fiction. My biggest problem with getting through books is that I’m constantly stopping to write something down. I’ll read six pages and a lightbulb will go off and I’m off and running, writing about something of my own.
I’m not sure I’ll follow this advice right now—there’s so much to read!—but it surely is a good suggestion to get rid of writer’s block: submerge your mind in content similar to what you're trying to create, and it’ll give you something similar.
Your job as a writer is to find connections in the world, between people and ideas, between you and the reader. I heard Judd Apatow say that he was fascinated by comedians as a kid because they appeared to have figured something out about the world and had come to some insight concerning our predicament. They had answers. That’s how I view the job of the writer. We’re thinkers and we have some of the answers. We have the gold. Everyone wants the gold.
Emphasis my own. We have the gold! We’re the (self appointed) thinkers of society!
Getting rejected 100 times in a year means one rejection every three-and-a-half days, on average. When you add acceptances into the mix, that means submitting something almost every single day. And what happens when you do something every day? 1) You form habits, making it a routine and thus, easier to follow through. 2)You build skills — in this case, becoming better at writing, following submission guidelines, and handling rejections. 3)You learn what works (and what doesn’t), leading to more acceptances. Putting in the work to get 100 rejections from literary journals will inevitably boost your creative output, but also the quality of the work itself.
Rejections aren’t personal, they’re business decisions. Accumulate enough of them, and you learn the business: what sells, what kind of titles editors love, what sort of opening line grabs a reader, etc.
She quotes another article that expands on this point:
In the book Art & Fear, authors David Bales and Ted Orland describe a ceramics class in which half of the students were asked to focus only on producing a high quantity of work while the other half was tasked with producing work of high quality. For a grade at the end of the term, the “quantity” group’s pottery would be weighed, and fifty pounds of pots would automatically get an A, whereas the “quality” group only needed to turn in one—albeit perfect—piece. Surprisingly, the works of highest quality came from the group being graded on quantity, because they had continually practiced, churned out tons of work, and learned from their mistakes. The other half of the class spent most of the semester paralyzed by theorizing about perfection, which sounded disconcertingly familiar to me—like all my cases of writer’s block.
That’s an interesting paradox!: to succeed, you must fail a lot first! This echoes of the pick-up artists of two decades ago—God, time flies!—who some at first recommended going intently for the rejection on purpose, so as to desensitize and build up confidence. It also might be similar to Viktor Frank’s paradoxical intention.
She finishes with another quote: “The worst book you’ve ever read was published.” It’s true! You’ve surely read really bad writing. How bad can yours be in comparison?
★ 7 ★
Clase media Interesante caracterización de la clase media en el paisito, según un artículo de El Universo: «para ser considerado de clase media se debe ganar en el país entre 2,5 y 12,5 veces más de la línea de pobreza mensual establecida en 2024 en 91,55 dólares (la última línea calculada oficialmente y que corresponde a junio del año pasado). Es decir, todas las personas que son parte de hogares cuyos ingresos mensuales oscilan entre $ 228,87 y $ 1.144,37 por cada miembro serían considerados como parte de la clase media».
Dice «por cada miembro», ¿no? Tenía la duda de si el cálculo de “clase media” iba por el lado de los ingresos del trabajador familiar, o más bien por los niveles de consumo, en los que participan incluso niños y ancianos.
«La canasta básica familiar para un núcleo de cuatro miembros (padres y dos hijos) fue fijada en 797,97 dólares en diciembre de 2024, lo que implica que para cubrirla se necesitan casi 200 dólares por cada miembro de ese hogar promedio», continúa. Es decir, que si la familia “tipo” cubre los ingresos de la canasta básica, ¿podemos considerarla clase media? Debajo de esa categoría serían los “vulnerables”, no aún pobres pero en riesgo de caer en pobreza.
Anteriormente tenía la impresión que la caracterización de clase media era basada en condiciones de vida: si la casa posee piso de baldosa, baño completo con agua corriente, internet, celular, etc.
«El camino sería fortalecer al 31,7 % de la población del país que se considera son parte de la clase media, según estimaciones del Banco Mundial, en la que se incluye como tales a los que ganan entre $ 15 y $ 70 al día, es decir, de $ 465 a $ 2.170 al mes», sigue el artículo. Ahí estaría entonces el ingreso del trabajador que sostiene un hogar de clase media: si tiene empleo adecuado (es decir, si gana por lo menos el básico) hasta $2170 mensuales; a partir de ahí ya se sería “clase alta”, es decir, un nivel de ingresos individual de alrededor de más de los mil dólares por miembro familiar mencionados en el primer párrafo. Obviamente son categorías un poco difusas, pero sirven de referencia.
Un estudio del Fondo Monetario Internacional elaborado con información estadística del INEC mostraba que el 90 % de la población económicamente activa gana hasta 750 dólares al mes. Y el 60 % del total apenas logra ingresos de hasta $ 250 al mes. Una parte de este grupo es considerado pobre en la estadística oficial (en junio de 2024 eran 4,7 millones de personas, 25,5% de la población total) y la otra parte queda en el medio, lo que se conocería como clase media baja, un grupo vulnerable que está más cerca de pasar a engrosar la pobreza oficialmente en momentos de precariedad laboral e imposibilidad de generar ingresos.
Si hasta >90% ganan ~$750 al mes, y algo así como tan sólo 1,7% de la población es clase alta (ingresos familiares de más de $4k al año), entonces en esa diferencia de 8,3% están los más “medios” de la clase media, y siendo que 4% gana más de $2k al mes [V.], lo cual incluye a la clase alta, la clase “media comfortable” sería tan sólo algo así como el 6% de la población.
Por supuesto eso variará según si el trabajador sea un joven profesional soltero, o ya tenga cargas familiares. Pero en general somos un país de bajos ingresos.
Otro artículo de Revista Gestión de hace unos cuantos años toma un enfoque distinto, hablando de “contribuyentes” en vez de trabajadores, pues usa datos del SRI en vez del INEC, pero llega a conclusiones similares.
Según este dataset sólo el 10% de la población gana $1500 o más; nos llama la atención que el umbral sea el doble del del INEC, pero es lo que hay, y está mejor desglosado:
La explicación sería que el INEC se enfoca en hogares con el consabido 1,6 de ingresos, pero en cambio el SRI se enfoca en contribuyentes que son individuales por naturaleza. Quizá ahí se explique la mayor parte de la diferencia.
En el caso de los quintiles por ingresos, fácilmente vemos que la mayor parte de la población de Ecuador es de bajos ingresos:
Y sí, en el último quintil están los millonarios, pero “arrastrados” hacia ese promedio bajo por una inmensa mayoría que gana el mínimo o poco más.
Esos datos, como dijimos, son de 2024, cuando enfrentábamos la plandemia y la desastrosa cuarentena. Pero cuatro años después los datos no son mejores, y por lo menos por mera inflación deberían serlo, pero no es así; nos hemos empobrecido un poco:
Alégrense los zurdos, quienes “sufrieron” una mayor caída porcentual fueron “los ricos” del último quintil! 😜
Reitero: la inmensa mayoría de trabajadores gana mucho menos que el mínimo vital, y lo único que logra la ley es arrojarlos a la informalidad. Eso no es conveniente a sus intereses ni les beneficia.
Los datos del SRI (de hace 4 años, recordemos) asignan a la clase alta el 1,9%, muy similar al INEC actual. Concluye con desolación que muy poca gente en el paisito está en condiciones de pagar impuesto a la renta; la conclusión lógica sería que no estamos entonces en condiciones de proveer un “estado de bienestar nórdico”, pues nuestro nivel de ingresos no nos lo permite; los ricos son muy, muy pocos.
Pero insisto, se debe enseñar al pueblo a que algo deben pagar, así sea muy poco; el “todo debe ser gratis” es caldo de cultivo de populismo y demagogias, pues es imposible. Siempre recuerdo el “plan de aseguramiento popular” de Matraca Nebot de hace 20 años, que por un puñado de dólares brindaba acceso a consultas y un cuadro básico de medicinas.
Más allá de lo magro del servicio, la pedagogía del poder era lo más valioso a rescatar: “la atención de salud cuesta, y te vamos a ayudar, pero tú debes aportar algo también”. El correísmo interrumpió ese proceso de aprendizaje y engañó a toda una generación con el “todo debe ser gratis y el Máximo Líder sí puede hacerlo”.
Esperemos que pronto se retome el camino de que todos deben ayudar a sostener los escasos servicios que podemos permitirnos como sociedad.
★ 8 ★
More nice quotes about reading Writing a very nice article about How to find the will to write, the very entertaining author says:
Your “why” doesn’t have to be lofty or world-changing. It doesn’t have to be glamorous.
You don’t have to cure cancer with your blog posts. You don’t have to stop global warming with your novels. You don’t have to work through some trauma or find yourself or whatever. And your “why” most definitely doesn’t need to be a pretentious “I write because I can’t not write,” as if writing was a bodily function like sneezing or farting.
But your “why” needs to be something that keeps you going. It needs to be something that propels you forward when the excitement of being a writer has worn off and your initial fantasies of quick fame and success haven’t come to fruition.
For some, their “why” might be the simple challenge of it: “Can I make it as a writer? Let’s find out.” For others, it’s about leaving a legacy: “One day, I want my great-great-grandkids to stumble across my work and say, ‘Wow, Grandpa really had some issues.’”
It could also be pure escapism: “Real life is boring, and writing lets me hang out in places where fairies are real, tax forms don’t exist, and no one asks for my availability to work over the weekend ‘just this once.’”
Man, that last phrase really hit home. Life is so dull sometimes! Let's make it more bearable for the reader. The very act of writing is escapism in itself! It's a rebellion to the dullness and prosaicness of this world.
Words are the most powerful force known to mankind — and that’s not a coincidence.
Language is the #1 evolutionary differentiator that sets humans apart from all other species. We can condense knowledge, communicate it, even store and transmit it across generations. That’s why everything is written. Have you ever thought about this? Like, seriously: Everything is written.
Ads, movies, Youtube videos and TV shows — scripted. Music: lyrics, rhymes, and even the notes in sheet music — that’s just its own language. So is code, the thing on which literally everything runs nowadays. This is to say nothing of emails, text messages, memes, clever Instagram story captions, social media comments, and all the other ways we send trillions of word strings to each other on a daily basis. Never mind the classics, from essays to op-eds, letters, annual reports, and books, of course.
In the pandemic, all eyes turned online, and thus, all eyes turned to writing. People read. People watched. And people listened. It was our collective comfort in a dark time, and it was all thanks to the written word in one way or another. Whatever the next global crisis is going to look like, chances are, we’ll look to words once again. Never underestimate the power of writing.
Now, if people read more…!
Another late bloomer draws attention to a common novice author's mistake:
In Love from Venice, Johnson melds a travelogue and coming-of-age tale as she recalls the gilded months she spent living in the count and contessa’s magnificent 15th-century Gothic Renaissance palazzo with marble floors and white-gloved butlers. As she watched over the couple’s boys, she kept up a long-distance romance with a Paris-based architect she would marry soon after returning to London.
Her story succeeds, in part, because she focuses tightly on experiences that were uniquely hers, the kind that are pure gold for a writer. She meets Aristotle Onassis on his yacht. She has a chance encounter on the beach with novelist Nancy Mitford that leads to sparkling conversations. And she can’t quite fathom a flamboyant American writer who stays at the palazzo as he tries to decide whether to marry the Woolworth heiress Barbara Hutton.
About her non-Venetian life Johnson tells you only what you need to know to see why the city meant so much to her. She doesn’t dilute magic of her story by straying into the dross of her later life, such as how drab London must have seemed after all of it.
In that way Johnson deftly avoids the kitchen-sink trap that ensnares so many first-time authors: throwing everything they know about life at a book, because they’re afraid they won’t have another chance to say it. That urge must be especially severe by the time you reach your 90s.
Spot on! Most readers won't be interested in your "inner world" as much as in a good story. So it's a good idea to "get out of the way" and let the reader immerse in the story. It's also good to remember that it's usually not needed to tell the reader everything! "Don't explain the joke," to put it in other words. Trust the reader, trust them to figure things out by themselves. Use imagery, metaphors!
weirdly with writing, unlike anything else I’d pursued in adulthood, it was not about the rewards and achievements associated with it (of which I had none) — I actually enjoyed doing it. I mean, I don’t enjoy writing specifically, which is excruciating and tedious almost all of the time. But occasionally cracking a piece of writing? The awareness of myself and the world that comes from the process of writing? The immense joy of having written?! Bliss. These things invoke an all-consuming, almost spiritual wholeness, a rare glimpse of understanding or at least the illusion of some kind of harmony in an otherwise chaotic and unfathomable world. I was hooked.
She tells it like it is!
★ 9 ★
Create dangerously «Create dangerously, for people who read dangerously. … [Write] knowing in part that no matter how trivial your words may seem, someday, somewhere, someone may risk their life to read them.» ~Edwidge Danticat quoted on Medium.
Stop using “and then” to link events. Use “but” and “therefore” instead. That’s it.
Outlines that rely on “and then” are straightforward. Something happens, and then something else happens. And then another thing happens. The issue is that “and then” is linear. It strings events together without creating much tension or giving the story momentum. … Now, imagine if Prison Break relied on “and then” storytelling:
Michael Scofield gets arrested.
And then he meets his brother in prison.
And then he starts working on an escape plan.
It sounds okay, but it’s flat. There’s no tension, no rising stakes. Now let’s swap those “and then” transitions for “but” and “therefore” moments:
Michael Scofield gets arrested, but it’s all part of his plan to break his brother out of prison.
Therefore, he starts tattooing the blueprints of the prison on his body before getting into prison.
But the escape plan hinges on dangerous inmates and corrupt guards.
Therefore, Michael has to make uneasy alliances to survive and make sure the plan works.
Notice how this version creates a chain reaction of cause and effect? The stakes rise with every turn, and each decision triggers consequences that propel the story forward.
The magic of “but” and “therefore” lies in their ability to create tension and progress: “But” introduces conflict. It forces your characters to face obstacles, complications, or reversals. “Therefore” shows causation. It connects actions and decisions to their consequences, giving events meaning. Together, they keep readers engaged by ensuring every scene either raises the stakes or drives the story forward. It keeps readers hooked by ensuring every scene feels essential.
★ 11 ★
Nues amor Un tema que me da vueltas últimamente es que la mujer moderna no se enamora ya. OK, OK, las excepciones etc., pero creo que la cultura se fue de un extremo a otro: de la mujer devota ama de casa, a la mujer solipsista y narcisista.
Un artículo de prensa sobre una influencer que entabló una relación con un “gringo” me ha dado qué pensar al respecto. Todo bien con su relación; el flechazo, la dinámica propia de la peculiar y necesaria viralidad que ha de tener su relación, etc.
Pero varias expresiones de la chica me dan a entrever que, para muchas chicas modernas, el amor ya no es algo que las atrapa, algo a qué entregarse, ni hablar de lo más importante de su vida; sino un ítem más en su “bucket list,” algo más que han de lograr, como por ejemplo graduarse, o viajar a tal sitio, etc.
Veamos qué dice: «A pesar de la distancia, su relación fluye con naturalidad. "Creo que Dios me mandó ese tipo de relación porque es lo mejor para mi vida en este momento"». Ni hablar del rol tradicional de género —de la mujer que se “entrega” al varón—, ni de entrega mutua; aquí lo principal, es ella misma. He ahí el solipsismo.
Continúa la influencer: «"Instagram no lo tenía ni siquiera descargado en su celular. En TikTok no sube nada. Era prácticamente cero redes sociales", recuerda Génesis. A pesar de esta diferencia, el estadounidense se ha adaptado al estilo de vida de Génesis. "Un día me dijo que volvió a descargar la aplicación porque le gusta ver lo que subo. Aunque no entiende nada porque aún no sabe español, siempre quiere ver mis historias, comentarme y darme like. Se involucra mucho más y eso a mí me encanta", dice Génesis, destacando cómo este apoyo ha fortalecido su relación. Para ella, este involucramiento es un indicio de que están en el camino correcto. "Si no lo pudiera hacer, ahí sí tendríamos un problema", asegura». Nuevamente lo importante es ella, y si él entra a la vida de ella, es para acoplarse a ella; si no, no funcionaría. Y curiosamente jamás menciona qué aporta ella a la vida de él; su mera existencia es suficiente me imagino, ella es un don divino al mundo.
Más: «Desde la primera semana que nos conocimos, cada vez que lo veía más era impactante ver cómo funcionamos, ver que era como mi alma gemela, una persona que llega a sumar en mi vida de una manera tan perfecta que parece irreal». Nuevamente el tema del “hombre que ha de venir a sumar”. El amor ya no es lo central; el centro es ella.
«La licenciada en Marketing Gerencial también destaca que su pareja le ha demostrado que el amor no significa perderse a uno mismo. "Es una relación que representa independencia, la posibilidad de seguir haciendo planes cada uno por su parte", destaca». Literal y textualmente dicen que el amor ya no es “perderse en el otro”, sino «cada uno por su parte». Como que algo se perdió en el camino, ¿no crees?
Y una más: «Génesis no duda en afirmar que lo más valioso que le ha dado su relación con 'el gringo' es el reconocimiento de su propio valor: "Me ha demostrado que soy merecedora de tener un amor tan lindo. Yo sí me merezco algo tan lindo como esto. Soy merecedora de que me pasen cosas tan buenas como él", culmina». Tres oraciones enfocadas en la primera persona. Supongo que todos somos el centro de nuestro mundo; pero en una de las pocas instituciones humanas diseñadas para la entrega, para el sacrificio, para el cuidado de otro, seguir enfocándose en uno, uno, uno, suena solipsista.
¿Qué piensas? Por supuesto que los hombres también somos así, egocéntricos. Pero una cultura donde todos son así, ¿dónde iremos a parar?
★ 12 ★
Bueno, Bonito, *o* Barato Es común oír quejarse de la mala calidad de los servicios municipales. En el artículo “Es alto, no asoman obras en el barrio”, se menciona que algunos vecinos pagan $38 anuales, otros $108 y que les han subido 20%, se quejan. Poco más de un millón de predios recaudan $85 millones; así que el promedio de impuesto predial será $85; ahí están las “mediagüitas” de los pobres —legalizadas, se entiende— y las mansiones de los millonarios.
Un cálculo “al ojo” me da la idea que se paga alrededor del 0,1% del valor de la propiedad como impuestos prediales; y por supuesto les parece alto a la mayoría, y eso cuando los municipios recaudan, pues hay municipios que no lo hacen, y nomás malviven de la asignación estatal.
Sorpréndase el ecuatoriano al enterarse que en otros países pagan diez veces más de impuestos prediales. Antes que me digan “duh, lógico, si es que allá son más ricos”, estoy hablando aquí de porcentajes.
En EEUU [V.] se paga en promedio 1% del valor de la propiedad anualmente como impuesto predial; llegando en algunas ciudades al 2% anual. Se vive bien bonito ahí, en ciudades limpias, con buenos servicios, bien mantenidas; pues bien, eso cuesta diez veces más porcentualmente que lo que estamos pagando.
Tomado como porcentaje del ingreso familiar, los valores pagados oscilan entre 5% y 8%. ¡Vivir en comunidades cuidadas no es barato! Tómese en cuenta que entre nosotros, muchos condominios enfrentan dificultades en cobrar las alícuotas, cuyo monto (asimismo un cálculo “al ojo”) puede ser alrededor de 5 veces más que el predial municipal; pero aún estamos lejos de las diez veces más que pagan gringos.
Me imagino que también influye que la policía suele ser municipal allá. ¿Tal vez esa sería una salida para lograr más seguridad?
En España [V.] el “IBI” en promedio es 0,62%, seis veces más que el nuestro, pudiendo superar el 1% [V.].
En Francia, la taxe foncière[V.] en promedio es de 1.749 €, siendo por supuesto mucho mayor en París, donde un pequeño apartamento de 50m² pagaría más de 665 €.
¿Entonces? Queremos servicios de calidad, calles limpias, pero ¿estamos dispuestos a pagar lo que cuestan? #taxe-fonciere
★ 13 ★
Art for art’s sake An Indian got close to make a living writing, but then started hating it [V.]. How come getting so close to “the dream” of many, to abandon it?
I came to the conclusion that writing had always been my escape. I would write no matter what was going on in my life, particularly when things were not going great. Writing was my outlet, my vent, my escape. Life would suddenly seem bearable, enjoyable even after I’d written about it.
However, when writing became my profession, when it became something that I was doing for money, it stopped being my passion. It turned into something that I needed to escape from. How’s that for a revelation.
Plot twist, huh? For many, writing is a creative pursuit, that frees us from a prosaic existence. But when we finally manage to turn that hobby into an income, it becomes a chore, and we lose the spark of spontaneity that allowed to enjoy it.
Even worse, we meekly cater to the perceived tastes of the public—instead of stating our truth boldly—for fear of losing a meagre income. The love of money easily corrupts art: «creativity owes no one anything. It certainly does not owe me a livelihood. In fact, that expectation made me fall out of love with writing.»
Another realization that dawned on me was that, any financial gains that come to me from writing, would have to be incidental. The process itself would have to be its own reward for writing to be a meaningful part of my life. I would have to stop seeing writing as a means to an end and learn to enjoy the process and in time see the process as being the most important part of this pursuit. It took me a few years to realize this though.
To summarize …: 1. When I make my passion my profession or have my livelihood depend on it, it stops being my passion. 2. Desire for money, fame, and financial gain often prove as impediments more than motivating factors, when it comes to creative pursuits.
