Greetings, to the steemit comunity!!
My name is Blanca!
My life philosophy is that there isn't such thing as an absolute truth, except maybe for the fact that we're dust.
I live in a small city in Venezuela, bordering the Orinoco river. This city, is Ciudad Bolívar. Or, Bolivar City, as you wish.
The days in this place, always start before the sun does, and that requires an ungodly amount of coffee. I like coffee, as in, bean coffee, because in this country instant coffee is a big fat lie (and a thing for rich people). My favorite kind of coffee is black, strong and bitter, and I call it "the wake-me-up". My second favorite is the guarapo, a very light kind of coffee, with a great amount of sugar. When there is sugar in the house, that is.
Honestly, drinking coffee in Venezuela is a luxury, and so the days in which I can drink will possibly end very soon.
My day begins before the sun does, not because I'm a morning person, but because the public transport here is the worst thing to ever exist. We venezuelans go to the bus stop, basically praying so maybe today we'll get a bus.
We know when we go outside, though we don't know at which ungodly hour we'll be coming back to our houses.
There isn't such thing as an absolute truth, except maybe for the fact that we're dust, that most of the time I keep myself working by the sheer force of coffee alone and that the public transport in my city is the worst thing since soaked socks. You can tell me otherwise, but I won't believe you!
I'm 16 years old, but I've been working since I'm 14. The current situation of my country calls for such measures, but because of that, I've learnt since a very young age, that if I want something, the faster way to get it, is to work for it by yourself.
Despite working since such an early age (early, said I, even when I'm barely inside the legal-working-age of the country), I'm as close as living alone as I'm close of living with my celebrity-crush: not even a little bit. It's not that it's impossible, because there's no such thing as an absolute truth, but it's very very hard.
I'm Blanca, but I'm not white -the joke reads better in spanish, in wich blanca=white, trust me is a good ol' pun-. The truth is that I'm pretty black and my name is a bad joke. I share the same name as my grandmother, who just for the record, isn't white either.
As hobby I have cooking, a skill mastered trought cuts in the fingers, burns in the hand, lack of basic ingredients and lack of food in general. I also like drawing, writing and reading.
I don't consider myself an optimistic person, I'm more realistic, and I've get my fair share of hits in life because of that. I'm not afraid of saying out loud that, I think my future awaits outside Venezuela. Such thing as an absolute truth doesn't exist, but who knows when this place will start to heal, or if I'll be alive and healthy to see it happen.
My opinion is that we, young people, should be able to choose where we want to build our lives, and if our mother-country doesn't have the necessary conditions and tools for that to happen, we aren't obligated to stay. The country that saw my father outcome the poverty and in which my mother had a rich-girl upbringing, isn't the same in which I've had to work since I'm 14, walk for god-knows-how-many kilometers under the sun and starve because of the lack of food.
It's actually common in the streets of Venezuela, to hear people saying that they miss Venezuela. It may sound cliché, but we could had it all, and didn't knew it until we lost it all.
Anyways, this introduction got long already, my english is getting rusty, the coffee is ready and I gotta go. See you around in the next post!