Tulia Gonzalez Posts

July 11 / Life

Are you sailing back or flying? The fact that this question can even be made, it means that there are options. -Flying, this time I’m flying. I bought an airplane ticket that will take me back to Mexico in thirty something hours by plane, but the journey to come here took me almost a year on a sailboat. The world can be a bizarre place. Yesterday I dreamt that I finally left the island, that L was taking me to the airport, that my passport was expired, and I didn’t know if Mexico would recognize me. I’ve changed so much.…

June 19 / Diary

We all have those little parts of ourselves that we like to hide. It may be a middle name, the high school Prom photo, or that you failed the fifth grade. Margarita didn’t like me probably because is diminutive, and I wanted to be related with something strong, to have bigger hands to hold stronger, to be more “real”. Now I don’t care about diminutives, now I don’t wish that anymore. I see that is not the size of the hands, but its determination. Why do we need to be taken so seriously? Perhaps, deep down we want to be…

January 31 / Poetry
We wash out our face in a waterfall
thinking that we’ll be other
who wakes up next morning

But we are all the same

December 30 / Poetry
Splashing waves crash in the port while tourists on waterproof jackets are passing.
In the distance, cars get lost in the curve, of the only street of this village.
They pass.
People pass stepping puddles and passing clouds leave puddles on their way.
Words on the air pass being dragged by mouths while the gulls cut them with their winged passing.
Another day of summer passes.

November 29 / Poetry
 I confess I have lived a little bit.
28 years ago someone –my mother- named me “Tulia”
and since then I collect experiences in a handmade wicker basket
that has a hole in the bottom

August 30 / My Sailing Logbook
*From Mexico to New Zealand aboard a sailboat. These are the dairies of one year cruising in the Pacific. 01/March/2013 I walk across the hotel’s luxurious corridor coming back from the toilets to the dock. It’s like 7am, my hair is a mess as usual, and I am wearing my pijama shorts still when I pass the main entrance of the Mayan Palace.   I show my ID and with the electronic key open the door, enter to the port. I walk fast and light signing for myself  "The Cat Empire" ... we believe ... we support ... living life cuz…
August 21 / Diary
I see a loose thread, and I take it. It’s my way to start weaving with words. So there is an opening. Did I tell you that sometimes I find myself suspended in an eternal continued moment? When rain drops fall on the roof and I must stay still, suspended, almost holding my breath while listening the knocking against the roof and watching the drops slowly wringing through the window. Yes, is in these small details where I live when a lot is the time in solitude and infinite the freedom. Great mysteries have occupied my mind these days. I've…