domingo, 16 de octubre de 2011

María

María nació inocente y pura en un mundo no tan inocente y puro.

Sus padres fueron personas muy sabias pero que cometieron errores estúpidos como todas las personas muy sabias.

Fue a un colegio en donde le enseñaron a creer en sí misma pero al mismo tiempo la regañaban por ser ella misma.

Tuvo amigos que la quisieron realmente y que la decepcionaron realmente y ella quiso realmente y decepcionó realmente a sus amigos.

Se enamoró muchas veces y se desenamoró muchas más. Amó y odió y volvió a amar y volvió a odiar y al final nunca supo si amó u odió más.

Estudió lo que quiso pero trabajo en lo que debía.

María enseñó y fue enseñada y aceptó y entregó mucho pero también quitó y negó mucho. María aprendió a llorar con una canción mientras peleaba por una injusticia y nunca olvidó rezarle a su dios aún cuando sabía que este esperaba que sea ella misma quién se salve.

Y un día cuando vieja miró hacia atrás y se vio a sí misma y vio que rio lo suficiente pero también lloró lo suficiente. Y pensó que la vida era justa y era injusta al mismo tiempo y que las personas eran nobles y crueles al mismo tiempo y que ella hizo lo correcto y lo incorrecto al mismo tiempo y decidió que era un buen momento para morir ya que había vivido y muerto en vida muchas veces.

Y entonces cerró los ojos, suspiro satisfecha por haber vivido una vida buena y mala al mismo tiempo y sonrió antes de morir sabiendo que volvería a vivir muy pronto.

lunes, 10 de octubre de 2011

The man behind the apple

To be honest before last week I didn’t know much about Steve Jobs. It was after watching a TV program about him and his life that I got to learn something about this amazing person. What I heard caught my attention and I decided to look for this speech and I’m really happy I did because I found one of the most inspiring messages I’ve read in a long time. My only contribution to this post apart from this brief introduction is to have copied the speech this great man gave at the University of Standford in 2005. I hope dear reader it has something to tell you as it did to me.
Steve Jobs’ speech

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.
The first story is about connecting the dots.

I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?

It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.

And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.

It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:

Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.

None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, it's likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.

Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

My second story is about love and loss.
I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents’ garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.
I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.

I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.

During the next five years, I started a company named Next, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.

I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.

My third story is about death.

When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.

Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.

I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.

This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope it's the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.

Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.

Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.

Thank you all very much.

domingo, 9 de octubre de 2011

Hay una canción en mi cabeza

Hoy cuando desperté sonaba en la radio de mi casa una canción que al escucharla me hizo regresar a unos meses atrás. Mientras la escuchaba recordé como me sentía en esos días, que hacía, que pensaba y me vi a mi misma y a otras personas que compartieron sin saberlo conmigo esos tiempos.
Coincidentemente mientras manejaba mi auto escuché un programa de radio llamado “Hay una canción en mi cabeza” de radio Oxígeno, en este programa radial se invita a personas famosas a que compartan con la audiencia las diferentes canciones que marcaron sus vidas. Estos dos hechos me hicieron decidir escribir esta nota y pensar en las canciones que me han acompañado o como leí en un post a través del Facebook el otro día: en los soundtracks de mi vida.

Primeramente debo decir que a diferencia de varias personas yo no suelo dedicarle canciones a personas especiales sean estos familiares, amigos o parejas. Puedo asegurar sin temor a equivocarme que en toda mi vida solo le he regalado una canción a una sola persona hace un corto tiempo fuera de esto nunca más lo he hecho. Cuando pienso en canciones pienso en aquellas que escuchaba en un determinado momento de mi vida y que al oírlas hoy me hacen sentir y vivir nuevamente ese momento.

Las canciones que definitivamente me hacen retroceder a mi niñez son sin duda las de Yola Polastri. Recuerdo claramente hacer mis tareas del colegio al son Soy una Pantera y aún hoy recuerdo el estribillo que dice: “Soy una pantera que vive feliz, tengo mil motivos para sonreír, la vida es hermosa de color de rosa todo es alegría para mi” y el inolvidable Cepillin y puedo verme sentada en la mesa del comedor de mi casa con mi cuaderno abierto y mi lápiz de carboncillo negro y el obligatorio lápiz de color rojo para marcar las letras mayúsculas y los signos de puntuación.
Cuando escucho a Yola también recuerdo a mi amada madre y mi abuela y las veo sonreír mientras yo saltaba y daba vueltas reproduciendo las coreografías y soñando con convertirme en una de las “burbujitas”

Mi adolescencia estuvo marcada por Luis Miguel que me hacía suspirar por el chico de mis sueños de esa época, con Michael Jackson y sus alucinantes coreografías, con Queen infaltable en las fiestas, con Soda Stereo, la lambada, la sexy y rebelde Madonna, Chicago, Cindy Lauper y los chicos de  The New Kids on the Block solo por nombrar a algunos y cuando los menciono recuerdo mis días de colegio y me veo yendo a mis clases de inglés por las tardes caminando contenta mientras cruzaba el Parque Mayta Capac, me veo también en las fiestas de quince años cuando me preocupaba por tener el vestido perfecto y recuerdo como me sentía en esos años en que empezaba a descubrir quién era yo.

Fueron Gianmarco, Air Supply cuyas letras de canciones recuerdo copiar a mano una por una y guardarlas como tesoros, Ace of Base, Vanilla Ice, Phill Collins, Vilma Palma e Vampiros, Juan Luis Guerra, Los Ilegales, Los Prisioneros, The Sacados, Mana, Fito Paez y Eros Ramozzotti entre otros quienes me hacen verme saliendo de la universidad riendo con mis amigas, reuniéndonos en alguna casa para hacer un trabajo, soñando con otro chico, bailando rap disfrazada de un huevo gigante en el concurso de baile entre facultades y soñando con conquistar el mundo.

Ya mientras trabajaba en el Cultural eran Santana, Shania Twain, Green Day, Celine Dion, Erasure, The Cranberries, Tiziano Ferro, Miguel Bose con su Morena Mía, nuevamente Eros Ramazzotti, Pedro Suarez Vertiz, Red Hot Chilly Peppers, U2, Robbie Williams además de muchos otros quienes me hacen pensar en mis noches en la discoteca Forum o me veo tomando un trago en la Casa de Klaus, en mis alumnos y en las muchas canciones que cantabamos en clase y en mis amigos y compañeros de trabajo.

Sin duda Enya, Enigma y Alanis Morrissette me recuerdan mis primeros años de casada cuando las escuchaba en mi mini departamento mientras me esmeraba por cocinar el platillo recién aprendido y esperaba ansiosa a que mi esposo me dé el visto bueno.

Como muchos de nosotros tengo canciones específicas que me hacen recordar a personas específicas que como quizás te estés imaginando querido lector son por lo general a los hombres de mi vida. Cuando las escucho los recuerdo con cariño y recuerdo quién era yo en esa época.

Hoy escucho de todo un poco y como la mayoría de nosotros esto depende de mi ánimo y de la situación. Como le comentaba a un amigo hace poco no tengo un cantante o estilo de música preferido y siento que en este tema tengo muchísimo que aprender sin embargo y al igual que a todos, la música ha acompañado mi vida y me ha hecho saltar, bailar, cantar a voz en cuello, enamorarme, me ha acompañado en mis noches de pena por un amor no correspondido, me ha acompañado en mis momentos de alegría por el primer beso esperado y soñado, ha estado conmigo en mis momentos de triunfo y en mis derrotas y me hace pensar en los que quiero, en los que me quieren y en lo buena que es la vida.