I got the writer’s block. Again. Words are not flowing the way they should; I’ve been quiet as I keep trying to resolve too many things, too many stupid pieces to unscramble: my hair is a mess, most of my shoes need repair, my check account is drying, my savings account is dying, my debt on credit cards is growing, I have cellulite for sitting down all day, I still can’t make enough time for exercising, my bedroom is cramped with my boyfriend’s suitcases and my Netflix movie has been sitting down on top of my desk for almost two months.

Diego is staying with us (and will be staying for at least one month), bringing to our home all his creativity, colors and ideas. Listening to his stories about living in a diversity of places in the last few months has been refreshing for everyone in the house. After his heart was broken almost a year ago he moved to Baja, where he spent his days living in a hut by the sea. During this time, he had no harder task than peeling a grapefruit each morning, after which he was free to do whatever he pleased. For most New Yorkers spending their days doing nothing, without a plan in their calendars (even during the weekends) represents an impossible dream. After Diego shared the story about the grapefruit, everyone in the living room remained quiet, wishing to have the nerve to leave everything behind; at least for a month (or a day).

While we waited for the rain to go away

Today felt like a lost day. Victor and I had tickets for the US Open women's semifinal match, but due to the weather all matches were cancelled. The frustration came as the organizers kept postponing the game every 30 minutes, asking everyone to wait until the sessions were officially canceled. I guess they just wanted us to spend our money on beer and burgers, while we patiently stood under the rain.

I like to think that everything happens for a reason, and as a result of our frustrated plan we went to the Queens Museum of Art. It was almost five years ago when I was invited to present a video installation at their biennial exhibition. My art piece consisted of 4 monitors that simultaneously showed the lives of 4 immigrants from different countries (China, Mexico, Cyprus and Serbia Montenegro), and their relationship with their new home in New York. Back then I used to work around the concept of belonging to a place, and which elements constitute the idea of home. After 7 years in New York it is my home; this is the city where I chose to be, and the place where I learned to survive by myself. Now is time to find a new subject for my art, a new inspiration that will influence my work.

At a staff meeting yesterday we discussed how the job environment has changed in the last twenty years. Back then, one was expected to remain in the same job for almost all of your working life. Ten years later, people were predicted to have 6 to 7 jobs during their lifetimes. Nowadays, we are likely to change careers at the same speed and number. This sounds both scary and promising. We could still choose to become filmmakers, environmentalists, restaurateurs or graphic novel writers. What scares me the most is our inability to stick with one choice, and make it the center our existence. Victor’s Mom has been a Classic Ballet dancer since she was a little girl. I can’t picture her doing anything else besides designing choreographies and training children with the techniques she learned in Russia during her youth. Everything in her life is inspired from her discipline and artistic elegance. Somehow it is monothematic. On the other side of the spectrum, some of us are still trying to define precisely what drives us. It might be that our mistake is looking for something in particular that probably doesn’t even exist, and our richness relies on our flexibility to adapt and find beauty and excitement in too many things. I guess one of our eternal dilemmas is to choose between digging deep into one specific subject, or superficially learn about a wide variety of them.

Cafe Sabarsky

I’m a little bit tipsy . Victor runs to the restroom after I forced one of my rings into his finger to try to loosen it with a bit of soap. He might return with an angry expression, but by the time he gets back our Sachertorte and Strudel will be served, and he won’t have any chance to complain. I feel fine, today is a perfect weather day in New York City. Before walking to the Neue Galerie we drank a bottle of Californian Chardonnay and ate a portobello and goat cheese pizza in Central Park. For a moment I feel as if I don´t need anyone by my side. I feel perfectly happy by and for myself.
Earlier we discussed about exposing our private lives in public. Victor is against Facebook and anything related to sharing his personal endeavors. I don’t agree with him, for me it is important to share my life, as I like to show myself as a subject of the art pieces and stories I produce. I think using oneself as a source is one of the most honest things to do.

I'm sitting on my desk as every day of the last four years, but today knowing that Victor is in New York without a return ticket makes everything look different. For the first time in a very long time I feel that I'm not taking all the decisions by myself; that we can start building our own story, here. As always, I'm afraid to bring my hopes to high, as things are still (and will remain for a couple of months) uncertain. Nevertheless, the idea of getting out of the office, going to the supermarket together, and buying everything we need for the week makes me very happy. It is the smallest pieces of my daily life that I enjoy the most sharing.