I think I attacked the virus del último semestre. Ese que te da cuando de pronto te cae el veinte de que casi llegas al mundo de las responsabilidades, que está a punto de acabar tu etapa de rebeldía, y te das cuenta de que, en realidad, no has sido tan rebelde.
En primer semestre desarrollé una serie de juicios y prejuicios hacia los tipitos que se emocionaban por ya no vivir con sus papás, salían diario a la fiesta, llegaban a clases crudos (en el mejor de los casos), y la prioridad en sus vidas parecía ser el perreo de todas las noches. Decía que eran pubertos tardíos, porque según yo esas ansias de explorar la juventud te invaden como a los 13 años, no a los 20. Y heme aquí, uno que otro año más allá de los 20, and suddenly it makes me want to be like them.
Well, I exaggerated. But who knows what happens to me yesterday I found myself dancing reggaeton. And with witnesses. Were only a few seconds, a couple of timid movements, casual and discreet, to the tune of "pose pose pose." Enough for a friend went through the place and approached to ask if those cute little steps had been the result of his mentecilla dulled by alcohol. Even enough to alert my companions, who then later took the camera to capture the moment. Of course, I stopped feeling so immediately observed, and pretended to be having a philosophical conversation with newly come, who wisely told me to stop trying to resist those impulses healthy. Perhaps
claims are the same instincts that have led me in recent weeks to explore the horizons of life in Cholula, for 9 semesters, I had relegated to the dark side of the heart. Maybe you can blame for my appearances this week in places never before possessed me to visit. The good thing is I have a friend that is like me. On Tuesday we ride together, and in our desperation to "live the youth" end tucked into the Unit, with a beer in hand and not quite knowing where or stand. Soon we ran into a friend and swore to keep secret that meeting in such a place, fearing the damage that could result in our respective social circles. Why not publish their own names for them, we are not able to be losing friends as well, for free.
experience on this site was almost surreal. A man chimuelo and more than 35, to learn that the end of my studies is close, I offered to take a "party drug" to say goodbye to Cholula "as God commands." A tipitos, which helped him up when he fell backwards into a chair, looking for his cell phone to record my number out of his bag a lemon and a pencil sharpener (would that do?).
Then I will talk the rest of the night. For now, I'll walk around Camino Real, to see what wonderful destinations seduce me today.
En primer semestre desarrollé una serie de juicios y prejuicios hacia los tipitos que se emocionaban por ya no vivir con sus papás, salían diario a la fiesta, llegaban a clases crudos (en el mejor de los casos), y la prioridad en sus vidas parecía ser el perreo de todas las noches. Decía que eran pubertos tardíos, porque según yo esas ansias de explorar la juventud te invaden como a los 13 años, no a los 20. Y heme aquí, uno que otro año más allá de los 20, and suddenly it makes me want to be like them.
Well, I exaggerated. But who knows what happens to me yesterday I found myself dancing reggaeton. And with witnesses. Were only a few seconds, a couple of timid movements, casual and discreet, to the tune of "pose pose pose." Enough for a friend went through the place and approached to ask if those cute little steps had been the result of his mentecilla dulled by alcohol. Even enough to alert my companions, who then later took the camera to capture the moment. Of course, I stopped feeling so immediately observed, and pretended to be having a philosophical conversation with newly come, who wisely told me to stop trying to resist those impulses healthy. Perhaps
claims are the same instincts that have led me in recent weeks to explore the horizons of life in Cholula, for 9 semesters, I had relegated to the dark side of the heart. Maybe you can blame for my appearances this week in places never before possessed me to visit. The good thing is I have a friend that is like me. On Tuesday we ride together, and in our desperation to "live the youth" end tucked into the Unit, with a beer in hand and not quite knowing where or stand. Soon we ran into a friend and swore to keep secret that meeting in such a place, fearing the damage that could result in our respective social circles. Why not publish their own names for them, we are not able to be losing friends as well, for free.
experience on this site was almost surreal. A man chimuelo and more than 35, to learn that the end of my studies is close, I offered to take a "party drug" to say goodbye to Cholula "as God commands." A tipitos, which helped him up when he fell backwards into a chair, looking for his cell phone to record my number out of his bag a lemon and a pencil sharpener (would that do?).
Then I will talk the rest of the night. For now, I'll walk around Camino Real, to see what wonderful destinations seduce me today.
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