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August 31, 2010
No
blog.
I
was too tired.
I
welded like a ___ ___.
Gabriela
August 30, 2010
“Motivation is what gets you started. Habit is what
keeps you going.” - Jim Rohn
This
is the last week of my welding apprenticeship.
I’ve
been reconstructing a Stage and learning to weld for the last three months.
It’s
not an internship because it’s not school affiliated. I don’t get school
accreditation but I do get an apprentice certification apprenticing at least
2.5 hours a day for a time period.
I’ve
learned a lot more than I can say for many other things.
I
found out that I like the smell of metal burning.
I
love the smell of my leather apron and gloves.
I
like the heat and melting of metal.
I
like the gear.
I
like the calculated risk involved.
I’ve
come to terms that I am an “adrenalin–junkie” for learning new skills.
I
don’t go seeking death nor am I the type that wants to feel the rush simply for
the rush.
I’m
a learning new skills-rush-junkie. I will spend three months simply acquiring a
skill because I want to.
I
will get myself certified in welding hopefully over the years and continue into
my old age.
My
next three apprenticeships are lined up for the next three summers.
I’ll
learn to fly a plane, skillfully shoot a gun and keep an organic garden to
study for lead pollution content in the city.
I
have dreams. Many dreams. Large and small dreams about learning for the rest of
my life.
I
dream about hunting a brother moose with bow and arrow.
Sounds
grandiose, doesn't it? but that has been one of my callings since I was a teen.
One moose for the need of survival. I won’t undertake such a task alone; I’d
like to run for days if that’s what it takes with a band of brothers and
survive from all of the remains of our brother moose. In the state of Minnesota
only one license per life time is permitted to an individual to hunt moose.
My
greatest achievement in life will be this.
I
know only few men that I trust to teach flying.
I’ll
put my life in their hands and trust that they can get us up into the air and
bring us back down safely.
My
husband’s family has a history of hunting.
I
look forward to being out in the woods this Fall and sitting up on the deer
stand even if I don’t hunt anything with my own two hands I will bring a
journal and write while the men go seeking wild game.
I
must express my gratitude to all those people who have the confidence and trust
in me.
Especially,
when I am a rookie and have no clue how to do many things in certain areas.
Yet,
I am intelligent and will help out wherever I can even if that means doing all
of the dishes and cooking in the woods.
I
am willing to help but I want to be shown something artistic, crafty,
intelligent, simple, beautiful, life saving, thoughtful and real.
I
don’t need people to be fancy with me primarily logistical at first while
getting to know one another. Nevertheless, some of the most real people I have
met have been some of the fanciest either through their world views, politics
and socio-economic ideals yet they work with their hands every day.
I
like people. No I take that back I love the company of people when the timing
is right – I just don’t like the assumptions and liberties made by others in
life.] “Grownups are like little babies inside adult bodies.” Said my husband
to me. I understood. “Don’t be too quick to judge. You never know when
someone’s shoes are too tight, their clothing is pinching them and they’re
thirsty because you never know what other people are experiencing so be calm,
as you discover their intentions, ideas and motivations for their lives. Not
everybody is for you. Remember that.” My
Dada said to me while driving down a windy road in a canvas of bright yellow
fall leaves. I understood him perfectly well. I am social and my husband is
“antisocial”. Broma. Joke. Chiste.
I
love sitting and listening, learning and interacting with people in a chill,
relaxed pace.
At
times, things happen very quickly and I understand the concept of rapidness.
Especially,
if a wild animal is almost on top of you but other than that it better be a
bear claw about to rip into my chest cavity in order for me to move quickly. As
of late my body has started slowing down and so I’m slowing down with her. She
is a good skin and piece of flesh and bone, but she is worn. So like any turtle
I slowly make my way through the world and like any snake in the Chinese zodiac
I shed skin. Have you ever seen a snake shed its skin? Do sometime and watch in
amazement the first time you encounter this – it’s like watching a birth.
I
have many things yet to accomplish.
The
Fall is not here yet but my Fall schedule is.
I
am so ready to finish up many things and to start many others.
Life
is good.
I
wish you an amazing Monday.
May
you go in peace this morning.
I
hope to keep the peace as I go into my day.
Sometimes,
people’s energy can be frustrating, misguided and dismissing.
Yet,
I will focus on my welding and the two gentlemen who I adore for brothers.
I
can honestly say that I love them as my brothers.
They
most likely love to hate me like a little sister from time to time.
I
can’t wait to be in their company for many hours in the next three days.
Then,
we will go our separate ways for the winter.
I
hope to see them again next summer.
I
will miss my buddies as I go into a full Fall and Winter production.
I
miss them all already as I write.
I
don’t say these things because there is no point in doing so.
My
chest is filled with emotion on this morning as I am almost done with
everything I set out to do for the summer.
Thank
you Mr. ____________ for being my apprenticeship boss even though at times you
did not realize the grand scope of responsibility to an apprentice like myself.
I do ask many questions and the ones that I really do want to know answers to I
will probably never be able to bring forth for fear of how basic, private and
intimate they are. So I kept my head submersed in welding, sanding, priming and
painting metal all summer. That was my job and my responsibility. Thanks for
_______________, _____________, and _________________.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
August 27, 2010
No
blog.
I
was too tired.
Gabriela
August 26, 2010
“Drips”
by Eminem
[Intro:]
[Eminem:]
Obie, Yo?
[Obie Trice:]
I'm sick
[Eminem:]
Damn, you straight dog?
[Obie Trice - B/W Chorus]
[Coughing]
Bitches
Getting sick
[Chorus:]
That's why I ain't got no time
For these games and stupid tricks
All these bitches on my dick
That's how dudes be getting sick
That's how dicks' be getting drips
Falling victim's to this shit
From these bitches on our dicks
Fucking chickens with no ribs
That's why I ain't got no time
[Obie Trice:]
Yo, I woke up, fucked up off the liquor I drunk
I hadda bag of tha skunk, one and last night's tunk
Pussy residue was on my penis, Denise, from the Cleaners
Fucked me good, you should've seen us
Big booty bitch, switch unbearable, French role styling, body like a stallion
Sizing up the figure, while my shit getting bigger
Debating on to fuck her, do I wanna be a nigga
Caressing this bitch, plus I'm checking out them tits
Sipping on that fine shit, I ain't use to buying
I gotta hit it from behind, it's mandatory
Like taking ho's money, but that's another story
For surely your pussy on toast, after we toast
Our clothes fell like Bishop and Juice
The womb beater, clean pussy eater, inserting my john
In that spot hotter than the hottest block, don't stop!
Response I got when I was knocking it
Clocks steadying ticking, kinky finger licking
The cannon, seen us at my temple when she moans
I gotta slow down before I cum soon
And work that nigga, like a slave owner
When I dropped off my outfit, she knew I wanted to bone her
She foaming at the lips, the ones between the hips
Pubic hairs looking like some sour cream dip
Without the nacho, my dick hit the spot though
Pussy tighter than conditions of his black folks
Being a vinyl stretched, the last part of sex
I bust a fat ass nut - then I woke up next
Like, what the fuck is going on here?
This bitch evaporated, pussy and all just picked up and vacated
And now I'm frustrated cause my dick was unprotected
And doctor Wesley telling me I ain't really got that shit
Fuck
[Chorus:]
[Eminem:]
Now I don't wanna hit no women when this chicks got it coming
Someone better get this bitch before she gets kicked in the stomach
And she's pregnant, but she's egging me on, begging me to throw her
Off the steps on this porch, my only weapon is force
And I don't wanna resort to violence of any sort
But why's she shoving me for? Doesn't she love me no more?
Wasn't she hugging me four minutes ago at the door?
Man I'm this close to going toe to toe with this whore
What would you do if she was telling you she wants a divorce
She's having another baby in a month and it's yours
And you found it isn't cause this bitch has been visiting
Someone else and sucking his dick and kissing you on the lips
When you get back to Michigan, Now the plot
has thicken 'n worse
Cause you feel like you've been sticking your fucking dick in a hearse
So you’re paranoid at every little cold that you get
Ever since they sold you this shit, you've been holding your dick
So you go to the clinic, sweating every minute you’re in it
Then the doctor comes out looking like Dennis the Menace *ha ha ha*
And it's obvious to everyone in the lobby,
it's aids
He ain't even got to call you in the office to say it
So you jet back home, cause you gonna get
that ho
And when you see her, you're gonna bend her fucking neck back yo
Cause you love her, you never would've expect that blow
Obie told you to scoop, how could she stoop that low?
Jesus, I don't believe this bitch works at the Cleaner's
Bringing me home diseases swinging from Obie's penis
She's so deceiving, shit this ho's a genius
She gee'd us
[Chorus:]
[Exodus:]
[Eminem:]
"I'm busy!"
[Obie Trice:]
Yeah, fuck these bitches
[Eminem:]
Fuck 'em all"
[Obie Trice:]
Get money
[Eminem:]
Ha!
[Obie Trice:]
Shady Records
[Eminem:]
Woow!
[Obie Trice:]
Obie Trice
Eminem mother fucker
[Hissing sounds]
New millennium shit
Yeah
Turn this shit off
Turn this shit the fuck off
-------------
------------- ---------------
I’d like to discuss
rap lyrics sometime.
Not today, but I’d
like to give it a try not because I’m a critic but because I’m interested in
finding contrasting examples in media.
I
don’t mind violence in media, art and other forms of communication. I don’t -
what I do mind is real violent crime on American streets. When did America lose
its traditional manners of public civility and controlled sexual urges?
Nowadays some men will simply sexual attack women and go so far as to rape them
in public. What the hell is that? Is it a rotting society or does society
simply requires new restructuring? Restructure of their antiquated ideals about
the mentally ill and aggressive violent behavior? Personally, I believe that
rapists, sexual molesters and violent crime perpetrators will have to deal with
much harsher laws in the future and in some cases institutionalization for the
overall common goodness of keeping taxpaying citizens from harm. Why is it that
in America walking to the grocery store can have so much risk involved? You
realize how queer that behavior is and no I don’t mean homosexual I mean weird
for a lack of a better modern translation.
I
agree with the Dalai Lama that violence in the media is far more damaging to
culture than controlling sexual thoughts and urges daily. I don’t mind violence
on the screen so long as it stays on the screen.
One
thing that I loved about the study of Japanese cinema was their cultural
outlook on violence and its representation of violence on screen.
I
did and I still do. If you know just a sliver of Japanese cinema then you know
that their cinema has psychological gore, violence and cruelty. This was the
way with many Japanese film writers and directors of the fifties and seventies
because I think in general traditional and contemporary Japanese art conveys
many of the tragic aspects of culture, thoughts and ideas in relationship to
crime. Yet, when you stop to consider Japanese culture, these are some of the
kindest, most considerate and generous of humans. Why is that? A mind set in
how they view violence on screen. Japanese culture - contrary to American
culture - doesn’t seem to imitate the screen and I attribute that to the
Japanese’s fundamental spiritual ideals on life, prayers and ancestors.
Brilliant.
I love musica.
It helps me put deep sentiments into
perspective about how I see the world even if I don’t create and witness
culture as a rap artist does.
Gabriela
August 25, 2010
No
blog.
I
was too tired.
My
skin came to a crawl then a stop.
I
was so goddamn turned off yesterday I thought about vomiting to get the shit
out of my system.
I’m
not into vomiting but I felt food come up several times throughout the day
because of my emotions.
A
man gossiped with me earlier on-in the day.
I
got up to leave. I just wanted to get the hell away from him and his
destruction.
I
had to get the hell away from his smart-ass smirk – he knew he had created the
damage inside me.
The
look of satisfaction said it all. He knew he had penetrated through and my
heart sank.
I
hate gossip but I hate a gossiper more than the person being gossiped about.
Nevertheless,
my skin can’t handle the smell of _______________.
Yet,
I can’t help but wonder ______________.
Grossed
out to the core.
Gabriela
August 24, 2010
“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire
goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being.
We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” –
Albert Schweitzer
I
wish I was a musician.
As
a writer I can try to vaguely put down words I mean to convey but it doesn’t do
any justice to the emotions.
I
write because I believe in it.
I
write because the world is vastly.
Now,
the expression of writing doesn’t allow for me to hit a high pitched note to
insinuate love, destruction, hate, beauty and reconciliation. No, it doesn’t
work like that and even the swear words are not as expressive in dynamic
maneuvers. I want the emotions of my sentiments to either strike at the heart,
mind and skin or to silently bring a shiver of recollection about. I want
someone to come along and feel in their own way the rawness, intensity and violence
of words.
In
America – as a cultural phenomenon we hurt but our hurt is more often than not
– not real. Our hurt is made up in our minds and we pretend that it is real.
Even the poorest of the poor in America have very little to worry about. They
can find food and clean water anywhere in this America – that’s not so in other
parts of the world. Not so easily anyway.
Real
hurt in other parts of the world is waking up and feeling numb from hunger.
Waking up and having bleeding gums, poop and piss between their legs, cramps
and pain all over the human body. Possibly welts, malaria, missing limbs and
teeth. Many girls are not wanted all over the world so they are servants
sexually, emotionally, physically and psychologically to people who probably
hate their guts.
Homelessness
in third world countries is not America. It never was and it never will be.
I’d
been homeless in America from ages 23-26 and in Central America from birth to
10 years of age.
It
wasn’t a social experiment or a little art project. It was real.
I’ve
met people who saved my life, literally.
People
who showed me spiritual kindness and salvation here on Earth.
People
who were so goddamn nice it put my best friends to shame.
People
who with illnesses of their own travelled far and returned with a clean bottle
of water.
People
who I knew could not afford to share but did anyway.
I
was homeless in the middle of December of 2003.
I
was terrified and I won’t go into it here – because it’s too intimate.
I
had money in the bank but I refused to use it because it was a business loan
and for further business considerations and not a lifestyle. I was too stubborn
and I don’t mind now looking back on it. It happened as it did.
The
only thing that terrified me most was the cold.
I’d
lived in dire poverty in warm climate but Duluth in the winter is nothing to
laugh at.
You
freeze to death and at that time I wanted to die but never enough to do
something concrete about it.
I
wanted to lay down on the snow and go to sleep.
Something
kept telling me to keep going.
That
something was my fourteen boxes of journals a friend of mine and I lugged out
to Lake Superior and watched it all go up in flames as we passed around the
cheapest bottle of wine we could afford between the two of us. It was a
considerably warm winter and I worked as a ski lift operator that winter or
starvation was the alternative. I was so poor and sad in ways that
_____________________. Don’t worry the story didn’t end there. I’m sitting here
writing this today, aren’t I?
It
was a young woman… one of my closest friends today in fact.
She
saved my life.
A
woman I’d known since we were young at private school.
A
woman whose family - my family trusted and so did I.
She
allowed for me to stay at her family summer home which was empty over the
winter.
I
entered the lovely foyer and looked at all of the beautiful priceless objects.
I
knew the layout of the house like the back of my hand.
I
walked straight back to the kitchen and I opened the refrigerator door and fell
to the floor silently weeping.
The
refrigerator was fully stocked with my favorite foreign foods and the house
keeper had left a note saying that she’d be in to help me in the morning. I did
not sleep all that night. I walked around the beautiful summer home and touched
all of the beauty that I could muster with my sleepy body. I wanted to take it
all in before I awoke from a dream. I can’t even recollect that I ate that
night. I hadn’t eaten in the two days prior so I had lost all appetite even
though I knew that I needed to get something into my body.
I
wept silently without tears as I walked through the house and felt real
suffering because I knew that it, too, would soon be over and I’d have to
leave. I thought about getting on a plane and getting out of America. I thought
about many things but more importantly I thought about staying because that
Fall of 2003 my Indian jungle people sent me back. I was so angry I wanted to
stay barefoot and in the jungle; I was sent back to a culture I still don’t
understand nor I have profound clarity about it but I do respect whole
heartedly. Love and respect are two different things. You can respect an
archenemy but you don’t have to love them. Like Batman and the Joker. In some
ways I respect the Joker for being so damn creative but I don’t love his guts.
I
am a mixture of so many people.
I’ve
been in physical pain and emotional pain caused at me - not in me – but coming
at me – as of the last three months alone.
Men
who over stepped their boundaries.
Men
who’ve been cruel, unjust and bullies for nothing but sport.
It’s alright it’s
winding down and I won that spiritual battle because I did not fight their
anger – I ignored it.
Re-write:
A
little fairy tale story about the greatest place on Earth.
It
was suggested to me by friends to come out with it and show the story from
action:
So
it here it goes: I’ve been challenged to become a better writer rather than
giving lazy rants.
Please,
keep in mind that dialogue is my favorite form of literary construction,
because I don’t make this up; I just have to hear it once and I remember what
people have said by verbatim. It’s a writing exercise we were taught in many
and several writer’s workshops. It doesn’t mean anything other than I can
memorize short term and specific points in a conversation and quote them. It
means everything and it means nothing.
Here
I will try to write action.
Hard
as it may be.
Oops,
there I go again.
-------------------------
A
woman entered through a glass door swinging door into a bar and approached a
bartender.
“Hey,
how’s it going?” The bartender asked.
She
nodded and genuinely smiled at the bartender an old acquaintance from way back
in her mid twenties.
‘Well’
She thought. ‘Has it been six years already?’
She
nodded at the young man and he slightly nodded back.
Their
understanding was this, (respect, first for the past and anything else they
could figure it out along the way).
“What’ll
it be?” The bartender waited patiently and looked at her while the woman looked
at all the liquor on the high shelf.
She
saw several bottles she considered pretty like old antique perfume bottles.
The
many colors of the glass caught her eye and she wished they were beads for
making necklaces.
“How
about a Captain Coke?” She said quietly.
The
bartender leaned in, “What did you say?”
She
repeated herself.
Promptly
and with artistry the young man behind the bar turned on his heels for a liquor
glass on a metal steal counter.
He
grabbed at a nozzle for soda, a bottle of rum and mixed both at the same time
with precision and gracefulness.
He,
too, she thought; ‘Could be considered a masculine ballet.’ She could have
watched his movements for hours as he moved confidently back and forth and across
a five foot wide space about forty feet long.
As
soon as she realized her thought she looked up to the far right and stared at a
blue bottle and the way the light was hitting it.
A
flush of memories haunted her and she could overcome the emotions.
Promptly
she had no option but to look at the safest place, her feet – so she did.
She
took a deep breath and her drink was placed in front of her.
“Is
_____ here tonight? She asked curious as a little child.
“No,
he was here earlier.” He answered her directly and frankly.
“Will
you tell him that his friend ________ says “hi”? She only hoped that he
remembered nothing more and nothing less.
“We’ll
do.” And even if the bartender didn’t remember she didn’t mind it was the
thought that counted.
“That’ll
be $_._ _.”
She
handed him a five and placed a one on the counter.
He
tapped the table top and they both nodded at each other simultaneously.
A
moment of respect passed between them.
The
young woman drank slowly and tried to get comfortable in a high stool much too
high for her short legs.
She
couldn’t seem to touch the ground and stay seated not even on tippitoes. She
was not comfortable with the arrangement of her body to the ratio of chair she
dealt with. It was a seat made for a man.
‘Damn
it, this is the land of giants.’ She thought and slightly smiled at her
thoughts.
She
loved it all, yet – still, her body was not comfortable in a stool made more
for a quarterback than for petite ladies.
If
only bars came with all sorts of shapes and sizes in chairs.
She
thought about the inconvenience it would be for bar-owners but still she
thought the idea could be a creative design one as well.
She
stood up and moved to the wall to checkout a wall calendar of upcoming events in
the local bar of a small city. The calendar, she, recognized its illustration
from a local visual artist she only met once but liked her " " disposition she displayed
that night. “Wow,” The woman moved in just a little closer and got on tippitoes
again for a better view.
“After
all these years _____ is still at it. Incredible.” The young woman said to
herself proud of the unknown artist to her.
(The
woman with long curly-black hair smiled and felt respect for this particular
visual artist).
She
went back to the bar and moved one seat over closest to the dishwashing station
nearest a kitchen window.
It’s
now almost two in the morning and she had been going since five that morning
with early work.
Her
eyes were tired after a three hour drive north.
Gabriela
MORE
LATER.
I’m
going to go hang outside for the last two hours of daylight.
August 23, 2010
“Pride attaches undue importance to the
superiority of one's status in the eyes of others;
And shame is fear of humiliation at one's
inferior status in the estimation of others.
When one sets his heart on being highly
esteemed, and achieves such rating,
then he is automatically involved in fear of
losing his status.” - Lao Tzu
“People will fail you sometimes, even if you never fail
them.” She looked at me and smiled and I smiled back.
Silly things will happen in life.
People who say they love you will betray you, hurt you
and be cruel at times. That’s on them not you.
Funny, how many people will say: “Forgive and forget.” They
will know very little - that - what they say is such an
American Christian fundamental ideal on forgiveness. I
believe the only reason that expression exists is so that people who want to
forget the hurt they have caused onto the world can be off the hook because
somehow it will make things seem alright. Somehow the human brain does not have
to work hard at reconciliation, understanding the other’s hurt and the
destruction caused.
I’ve been waiting for Yom Kippur to come for
a year. I have done penance for another man’s injustice for close to a year. I
look forward to closing down this spiritual war. I’ve been at war since June 3rd
and I will continue until the day after Yom Kippur is over at sundown. I don’t go
to spiritual battle very often but when I do I do. Sometimes years go by and
I’m left to live in peace and harmony.
I am lucky because I know things that truly
are not as they seem but rather as the intricacies behind, inside, outside and
around the meaning and the action being conveyed in communication such as body
language is. I hate lazy people who hand over their work to their clients to do
it on their own and expect to get paid for doing nothing. I have forgiven many
people in my life for their deficiencies in services as they have done to me,
but I don’t forget because that is foolishness in the making. I just don’t go
back to these establishments and services.
I forgive because it is my duty to do so as
any considerate, kind and caring human does. It just is. I like finding a moral
tale in the middle of chaos, destruction and difficulties in communication no
matter how harshly I may write and speak out of frustration. I’m maturing with
kindness even though I write with fire in my words and that is a great
development, but I can’t be the only one in this endeavor.
It is also my duty to myself to set up hard
core boundaries and to never have them crossed again in that manner and in that
way with that particular individual. I don’t believe with a Western
middle-class white society in their endearing perspective that if we turn the
other cheek to be slapped that we should do just that. I think it’s foolish and
blind to go about kindness, caring and consideration in such fashion. It’s an
archaic and rusty ideal of some dead man named Jesus Christ who got murdered by
the same people he was trying to save. I don’t dog Jesus nor any other man
whose lived but they were men as any other man of the flesh and bone and where
does that live humanity with rapists, violent crime and manipulation, taking
advantage of hard working people?
I’ve come to know that hiding behind a
religious cloak is a great way to never face-up to those injustices that are
created onto others. Yom Kippur
is around the corner from this man. Yom Kippur is to bring about reconciliation between
people and between individuals and their god. According to Jewish tradition, it
is also the day when god decides the fate of each human being and I wonder what
fate god will give to a man who is not only a liar, lazy and someone who was
willing to expel another from a family they have known and loved for more than
two decades. I think only a coward of a man who doesn’t believe in god keeps
others from love because their love is not love but selfishness. Their god is
not a god it is what they interpret their religion to be.
I have asked for
forgiveness and I know that my gods laugh at this man for being so damn
childish, insecure and cruel. A man who believes in god doesn’t except a
gushing apology from another just to save face with his wife for the mistakes
and misfortunes he created himself. No man who believes in god purposely
creates power struggles, sadness and control over the lives of others. No man
who believes in god passes off their responsibilities unto others. No man who
believes in god offers something they can’t deliver. Deed rather than words.
Most men who believe in
some form of god are frank, honest and realistic about their gifts, abilities
and talents in the world and if organization is not one of them then don’t chew
anymore than you can bite off - otherwise, those of us who do trust and believe
in our form of gods – especially the Indian Mayan Gods will get on your behind
about your laziness, patronizing nature and cruelty because we are made of god
warriors and we fight for justice even if you’re ideologies has the whole world
convinced that you are the victim – your god knows as much as my gods do that
you are not a victim. My gods know a man who exploits others for the sake of saving
face. I forgive but I don’t forget because my gods teach us not to allow for
others to take advantage of us and take charge to our lives. My gods are
warriors of justice, kindness, consideration and honesty. I’m human but my gods
are truly full of consideration and for this simple reason I’ve learned to
forgive and never forget a lesson.
My Father is a Jew and
honorable to the nth degree. What happens to some men of certain religions -
who think they can use religion for business rather than for humanness?
Gabriela
P.S. Just because
someone calls themselves your friend but their actions are cruel, lazy and
unjustifiable that is no friend. That’s the clown on the road and I suggest run
like an Indian and never look back because that is the clown in the form of
something you - may vaguely recognize as something you want to make-believe as
love. I’m sorry but love is not lazy, cruel and unjust.
August 20, 2010
"Don't
cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." - Dr. Seuss
No blog.
My body was too physically tired.
Gabriela
August 19, 2010
No
blog.
I
laid eyes on my sister for the first time in two years.
The
lake was good for us.
It
takes someone to take us back home again.
Gabriela
August 18, 2010
No
blog.
Headed
north bound to be with family and friends.
My
Grandfather passed away on Monday night.
Gabriela
August 17, 2010
"Sex and beauty
are inseparable, like life and consciousness. And the intelligence which goes with
sex and beauty, and arises out of sex and beauty, is intuition." - D. H. Lawrence
I
sat on a friend’s couch as we approached many silly and simple yet serious
subjects.
He
called me a name and insulted me with it for the fourth time this summer. I thought:
‘That’s alright, you’re mentally lazy.’ I’m once again challenged by this man
and I thought that I liked him just a little bit less for being just that
little bit rude. He took liberties with me as a strong woman and I sensed two
of many things. Flirtation and fascination so he called me a name like a little
eighth grade dork that can’t control his verbal diatribes.
I
know exactly why he was rude to me. He tried to throw me off balance because he
was tired and lazy. I know this to be true because he didn’t really want to
take the time to think through his ideas and that’s his pattern of abuse with women to be insulting when he
doesn’t have the upper hand or when he feels like he is that little bit less
out of control and can’t necessarily impress an intelligent woman with his standard run of the mill
conversations.
My
skin got turned off by his smell in company. It’s about sex and beauty and he
was anything but those two things when he insulted a woman who holds both
qualities to the nth degree. He likes to think that he knows me but he knows
nothing about my life and yet he makes grandiose generalizations about me. If I
were a man for that fact I would’ve punched him square in the face because that
would have been the difference between what was between my legs and what was
between my legs. I’m extremely feminine and I’ve never punched anything in my
entire life before but again it makes for great passionate writing.
“I
think of mean people as boring.” I said.
“You
make them boring.” He reproached.
I
thought, ‘No shit Sherlock I make them boring it’s my brain that controls the
thought, no?’ Check mate. If our verbal exchanges were a chess match then I
could say, “Check” but I was trying to be polite in conversation and allow for
my host to feel like he had the upper hand in the conversation because that is
what all good guests aspire to be if anything at all, good.
He
kept bringing the conversation back to conspiracy theories and I spoke a while
about the video and graphics of the events that led up to 911. I talked about
things that I knew very little about but that I’ve had geek friends show me
video and graphics of time code that are different with the time and graphics
of the video that took place on that morning. Now, I’m no expert nor do I
pretend to be one especially when it comes to the subject of 911. Nevertheless,
I’ve sat in enough rooms and listened to enough geek conspiracy theories to
break a jaw bone. So I grabbed at thin air and tried to discuss this subject
matter with my host simply because he brought it up. Truly that was the least
of my interests in subject of conversation so I felt like I was being led there
like a stubborn mule. Eventually I got bored and started rambling my way
through the subject matter just to spite him. He was falling asleep on the
couch and left me with an awkward subject matter to have to wrestle.
Fortunately,
I sat in a comfortable living room and space where I could openly talk about
anything at all. I wanted to pet him on the head and feed him a cookie because
he did win brownie points for comfort and relaxation in his living room. I
don’t stand up and leave every time he insults me because frankly I like that I
can talk openly about anything in his home. No subject matter is tabooed and
frankly that’s how I grew up with my father in my father’s home minus the
insults.
My
father can approach any subject with any man or woman and he will never make
fun of people, call people names or insult them. “It’s not the insult but the
man that creates the insult that you can find fault with.” My father said to me
once. That notion stuck to me like glue. Every time I’ve been called a name or
a straight forward remark has been dished out negatively about my person, body
and ideas then I know it’s not about me but the person making the rude remark
and comment. There is no room for such matters in conversation or in relation
to others yet it exists and it is all too common a place between intelligent
men and women.
I
realized that I dealt with an insecure man and not an intuitive one at that
moment because if he would’ve been intuitive and smart enough he could’ve
realized his mistake in conversation and promptly apologized for insulting a
guest in his own home of all places – it’s not like it was the market square or
anything amongst two annoyed strangers. We are trying to build a friendship
that continues to get off on the wrong foot. Just when I think we make progress
and we are being kind and cordial then he pulls out an insult and I get not
only annoyed, turned off and bored but also I emotionally distance myself from
him.
I
don’t think this friendship can survive at the rate its going. I realize that
any man who is not up to the standard of my father’s kindness, conversation and
sharing of ideas, thoughts and perceptions is most likely a man who has not
answered himself some of the most difficult questions he has posed to himself.
You can ask all the questions you desire of yourself and others but truly the
wisdom lies in seeking out the answers. I came to realize that even though it’s
fun to talk about conspiracy theories that at the end of the day I’m going to
trust you just that little bit less for being rude and having no manners at all
to mind yourself.
I
think: ‘Should I say it? Should I point it out? Hey, buddy your ____ is
flapping all over the wind. Catch it before we sail head on and into the wind.’
“Talking
to you makes me feel like cleaning out the cobwebs of my vocabulary.” He looked
straight ahead.
I
couldn’t tell if his compliment was to disguise his earlier insult or if he was
genuine.
“Thank
you.” I responded none sympathetically.
“You’re
creepy.” He rudely remarked and stared at my face for a negative reaction.
“Why,
because I’m intelligent.” I didn’t skip a beat. I’ve done this type of social
chess before with a man who after seven years of calling me crazy was
clinically diagnosed bi-polar. ‘Step off my toes’ I thought. I know this game
all too well.
“Thanks
for the insult. I’ll take it just as I would a compliment.” I responded and
held back the flood of words I could’ve said to him that would’ve made him lose
his manhood right there and then on that couch. I held back because my
intuitiveness told me that he was partially kidding, partially flirting and mostly
failing in relationship to me in those moments but I also knew intuitively that
I could cripple him for life simply with words and yes I could’ve been a dog
about it. I held my tongue and gave him the respect that I deserved but that he
was not able to give in return. Immediately, I realized that he was not a peer
and I found myself quite disappointed because I thought he was an intellectual.
He has all the makings and components of an intellectual peer but through age
and time his become rude and lazy in communication. Those are two qualities in
a human being that turn me off as much as the smells of horse manure, rotted
vegetables and sewage.
About
a week ago he said to me, “I shouldn’t talk to you about such things after what
you’ve gone through.”
“Try
me. I’m an intelligent woman and I can hold more than one emotion at a time.”
He described the horrors and devastation in torture techniques and the death of
babies. Again, I didn’t flinch, I didn’t as much as move a muscle and I
definitely did not fall on the floor weeping for the grotesque and horrible
loss going on in the world.
I
thought: ‘That’s just like an upper middle class white male. Most intellectuals
of upper middle class white males in this Northern tundra think mostly as he
does’. “Well, truly how boring – they think it’s magic, it’s a gift to be
intelligent and I think bullshit. It’s a muscle like any other muscle that
requires a good work out.” I blurted out without really completing a full
thought.
I
could tell that he very rarely talks to African men, Hmong men, Latino men,
Chinese men, any type of men other than his bubble of white world. His prism
and microcosm are so small that he’s become small minded and I’m greatly
annoyed by this lazy minded humanness that has all the makings of Albert
Einstein – just as an example of one of his many historical references to what
he’d consider brilliant by white upper middle class male standard which is only
one standard of many and not even the most fascinating one at that.
I’m
being challenged but not in a great way. I’m once again in twelve years being
challenged to keep my cool and to hold back the reigns because what he might
realize all too well is that I may have the conversational tools to scare the
life out of him. For as beautiful and sexy as I am - I am just as ugly and mean
although I am intuitive enough to control such aspects of myself. I realize
that he is not as intuitive as I am in intelligence because he still makes
eighth grade insults that only geek boys used to make to the girls they had
crushes on. In that moment on that couch I saw him as a little boy as he fell
asleep on his left shoulder. This friendship holds a power struggle already and
I can’t help but think, ‘There there little boy – did somebody make poo? Do you
need your drawers changed?’ Interacting with women is not like interacting with
girls. It’s not the same.
Yes,
I’m a woman with high conversational standards but at least I have enough self control
not to say it in his presence because I care enough not to make him anymore
insecure than he already is with me. I love being intuitively intelligent when
he finds this in himself he will no longer be rude to others and he will learn
a type of strength that he has never known before and until that day he will
miss out on the opportunity to go out and play with other nice children. Until
then most likely people like me will avoid him like the plague because he is an
emotional bully and its evident a hundred feet away that he smells of it.
I
only hope that we can make it through this bizarre phase we’re in at the
beginning of this friendship. “It’s touch and go.”
It’s
still the same all these years later.
I
felt like I’m in junior high all over again.
Wow.
Damn!
Everything
changes and yet it still stays the same.
Gabriela
P.S.
If anyone makes any negative remarks about your body, soul, humanness, spirit
and person. Turn your back. Not necessarily your other cheek but your back and
do not allow for that type of energy to corrode away at you as it does in me
this morning. Realize the fault is in the one who calls others names and tries
to stir up emotions in others for no reason other than to rile you up. I may be
many things but I’m not lazy or insulting of my peers because I have too much
self respect to create unto others. Peace.
August 16, 2010
“Hopelessness
has surprised me with patience.” - Margaret
J. Wheatley
I’m
procrastinating this morning.
I
should be getting ready for the day and taking care of business rather I got
sucked into the world of on-line social media and like Alice in Wonderland down
the rabbit hole. There are so many amazing aspects of people’s lives to catch
up on. Social media for me is seasonal in the summer time. Otherwise, I make
very little time for it. I like catching up with people’s family photos,
commentaries and videos. Never once in my life did I consider that such things
as on-line social media and digital music would exit in my life time. Now it’s
an everyday mode of operation around the world amongst business owners, college
students and retirees.
I’m
procrastinating because I’m tired, low energy and slow going. Normally, I step
out of bed ready for morning prayers to the gods by no later than five thirty,
sit and sip on a hot cup of water with honey and I’ll light a small candle. I
love to look for a daily quote to bring inspiration forth to the day. I like to
post a daily quote on my social on-line media and write this blog for about two
hours – although that’s bit too much time and I wish the writing came quicker
than it does.
At
nine in the morning Eric gets up and we have French pressed organic shade-grown
fair-trade coffee. Many times throughout the year we have breakfast in bed. We
watch a film a day from about nine to eleven in the morning.
I
head out to my apprenticeship and work until five when I stop to take care of
my time lapse photography. I’ll head home anywhere from five to seven or I’ll
continue to work if I decide to. As of late, it’s been too hot to walk the four
miles so I’ll pick up my husband around seven thirty in the evening and we’ll
head home. We’ll change, get comfortable and I’ll take an hour to prep food,
cook and settle into the couch with another film for the evening. Eric and I will catch up with the day’s
observations, intimacies, communication and relation to others.
We
try to keep life as simple as possible. Even though it always seems that
something comes up. Births, birthdays, baby showers, weddings, festivals,
parades, family and friends, lunches, dinners, breakfasts at our local and
favorite establishments: of course divorces, separations, deaths, funerals and
heart ache along with forgiveness, patience, love, admiration, compassion,
kindness and boundaries.
Life
happens as it does to any other human being.
Life
is full of surprises, complications and most of all amazement.
I
learn something new every day.
I’m
surprised every day.
I’m
moved and humbled.
I’m
breathing and meditating as I go into this week.
I’m
wishing you amazing summer days and much love.
Gabriela
August 13, 2010
No
Blog on Friday the 13th. He, he, he.
We
headed north bound and had an amazing time with family and friends.
Cheers.
Gabriela
August 12, 2010
"Reason is powerless in the expression of Love."
Rumi
I’m
truly excited.
It
takes a lot to get me excited and once I’m there - then, there is nothing but
the anticipation, curiosity and gusto.
I
look forward to visiting a friend’s beautiful and established place of work
today.
I’ve
always loved the smell of working spaces, creativity and sweat that gather
there.
It
reminds me of something worthy of the highest value.
A
place of work is established with honor, consideration and determination.
I’ve
been going to people’s established work habitats for almost two decades now.
In
the early 90’s an aspect of culture hit my small city of Duluth where I grew
up.
It
was called, “Take your daughter to work day.”
My
Dada made it a point to have me freshly showered, dressed and have eaten
breakfast by no later than seven in the morning to head out and meet the world
of psychiatric mental workers. It was a blast! I learned early on that I did
not want to go to school for a decade to become a psychologist. I knew that I
did not want to work with the smells of the ill, injured and lonely. Since, my
father’s office was located at the medical health facilities on campus there
could not be any other way to escape the smell of winter colds, flues and many
other illnesses except to go to the Tweed Museum, get away for an hour and take
in some beautiful art. I didn’t much care for the notion of touching the
injured, ill and sick. The thought was too much for me then especially if
people suffered. I wanted nothing to do with the social and psychiatric field.
I only knew that because I had enough sense to go off and explore my father’s
world.
I
made it a point to go and visit for a day all of the junior and high schools in
the area at least once a year and then write a report about it to make up for
all of the missing days at school. I went to summer camp and Christian weekend
retreats with many different types of folks. Even then it was easy for me to be
trusted to go and play, develop new relationships and skip down strange
hallways with my peers who had no idea that I’d never so much as needed to keep
a lock on my locker at my private high school I attended. I saw, witnessed and
noticed at an early enough age that not all institutions were created equal and
that not all establishments were worthy of trust, rules and safety. I learned
real quick that the alternative crowd along with the preps, nerds, Geeks and
athletes were no different from each other much less from various other high
schools in the area.
My
father in all his genius made it a point to surround himself with many
intelligent, confident, hard working and trust worthy people. He also made it a
point that my sister and I visit many of their work establishments as well.
I’ve had the great fortune to shadow some of the most incredibly intelligent
people even if it were only for a day. I’ve stood in large successful business
owner’s offices, marinas, clubs, restaurants and studios. I met people who were
doing extraordinary things and I loved watching them work the entire day that I
was with them. At times, by the end of the day I was gracious to decline job
offers from some of my dad’s business friends. “If you ever need a place to
land this could be just as good as any.” I was told in various forms from
people who owned, operated and ran their businesses and if, they made-it so I
could’ve gone to work for them the following morning. That was not my intent,
desire nor purpose in visiting and watching the discovery of how people worked
but it was always flattering and complimentary to me that by the end of the day
they trusted in my competence, ability to creatively problem solve and to jump
in where needed if permitted of course.
I
was there simply to take it all in.
I
carried a journal then as I still do now and I will be taking notes, writing
descriptions and sitting quietly as I’ll be watching the director and crew of a
major Theatre in town work their magic on this day. I’m not only honored but
also humbled by a friend’s invitation to quietly come and observe. I’ve had
many honors in my life as well as I have bestowed many honors unto others and
this one is so significant in the sense that I’ve been meaning to weld for well
over fourteen years and today I will be watching professional welders work
their magic.
I’m
truly honored and humbled.
May
you find the kind of knowledge and awareness that you seek from the world
around you.
I’m
excited not to take a tour because I’m not a tourist but to sit amongst real
workers, thinkers and creators of today.
Cheers!
Gabriela
August 11, 2010
"Good for the body is the work of the body, and
good for the soul is the work of the soul, and good for either is the work of
the other." - Henry David Thoreau
I
took myself home to change and prepare to vote yesterday afternoon.
I
took care with my clothing, my hair and skin.
I
held a great deal of consideration for what I was about to embark upon.
I
thought: ‘If this was a Costa Rican election - my neighborhood - there -
wouldn’t be as quiet as this is right now.” I heard the air conditioning unit
running and the numb buzzing sound brought me back to reality in Uptown,
Minneapolis.
I
remembered times and places in which I’ve witnessed several Presidential
elections in foreign countries. Not only did the campaign volunteers continue
to mobilize until the very last possible moments before the voting booths
closed but the police men held semi-automatic weapons at the entrance of each
door which made it very clear that it was serious business and nothing to be
messed with because they held the semi-automatics and could shoot at any
moment’s notice, warning or mass hysteria.
In
Costa Rica each candidates’ volunteer army of street canvassers dress in their
corresponding political parties’ colors. The uniforms are green and white
versus red and navy blue which makes each candidate distinction all the much
more-sweeter as a traveler through a different political system and all its
hidden traditional rituals. Men and women of each campaign party stood out on
the streets as the ballot count was read over loud speakers outside buildings
through huge megaphones. Each party took up a side of a street and for miles I
witnessed people shouting at each other in excitement and relief of a
successful democratic voting process.
I
saw a sea of thousands of people silently holding flags out on city streets and
waiting for the results late into the night. Later, after the result for
presidential office was broadcasted some political parties’ flags were burned
in rejoicing for continued democracy amongst a group of men. No one citizen
overreacted and no police were involved in the early hour morning celebrations
of another successful and peaceful democratic election.
Being
in the middle of that much happiness makes you kind and aware of the world
because it’s not every day that an entire country stops everything and rejoices
in one poignant and unified act of respect for all citizens, political passion
and politeness for everyone’s political points of view and fulfilling their one
major duty as voting citizens to be intelligent and thoughtful about the
running of their country and the safety of all people. This is all done with
cooperation from all citizens. Democratic elections in Costa Rica have been
more like watching an awesome parade in complete silence, and then into an
explosion of elated happiness and sober minded masses of people with cheers of
gratitude and for joy. In many ways it’s more like the sentiment of a New
Year’s than a political process. I fell in love with politics in that very
moment. I understood what it was all about even if I will never be the smartest
person to talk about political theory. Goodness, that’s not what I have in
mind, but I can consider the power of considerate politics and the Nation’s
people who run their country.
The
act of burning the parties’ flags was an act of freedom from Left and Right
sectors of their political government; for the very freedom to express a
powerful political sentiment that freedom is sacred and democratic as well as
powerful and free of choice, always choice. That’s what makes a democracy so
great – the middle class decides the course, pace and longevity goals for their
children, elderly and all taxpaying citizens’ National Governmental free (or
taxed) healthcare, National free education and moderate price on consumer good
of all imports and exports. Cheers for that. The middle class thrives in
democracies as it should be, really. Salud!
My
eyes welled with water in them as I tried to hold my tears back at the
significance of their flag burning action. I came back a better American from
witnessing that experience. No one burned the Costa Rican flag only the political
parties' flags of particular colores. The act was one of freedom for democracy.
Different countries have different outlooks on life, politics and art and the
burning of flags. The excitement and powerful force in energy was unstoppable
into the early morning hours. I could barely breathe with all the dust and body
heat which sprang from the pavement, it seemed.
I,
too, was excited. I clutched to my camera that night as I ran around a country
full of people ready for change, courage, sincerity, consideration for their
children and most of all their freedom. Strangers stopped and kissed each other
on both cheeks on city streets. Grandmothers looked out windows and made the
sign of the cross. Children, wild-eyed with tired attitudes and way passed their
bed times sucked on flavored leche ice and stared at the commotion the adults
created from gusto, happiness and laughter.
At
one point I got out of the crowded streets and said a prayer to my ancestral
gods by a cement wall. When I was done praying I looked up and saw in graffiti
a line that read, “Asesinato el
Bush.” A cold shiver of fear ran through my veins and I was grateful to be
alive. I would never - not for any reason understand the campaign and
propaganda of murder. I understood very well that even there in that tiny
little Central American country that even there Bush’s administration had been
present in the minds of its citizens, young adults and it was obvious that it
was important to the street artist to record the anti-Bush sentiment. I was
proud to be a alive in a time of so much change.
I
returned to the crowded streets and tried climbing a street lamp with a base so
that I could get a better view and possibly pictures from up there. I was
confident in my climbing abilities even I’m not in the fashion of climbing
statutes but it did occur to me that just this once was alright, I was never
going to live in that moment again because something was coming to pass – a new
time in era. I was spiritually higher than I have ever been in my life and
completely sober. It was like a runner’s high. As I looked down the street
flags burned and men shouted. I was terrified at first yet I wanted to witness
it and from the playfulness of the men amongst themselves I understood that
there was nothing to fear, they were not out of control men if anything they
were in complete and peaceful control as they expressed themselves
passionately. Do you know what combination of man this is; a smart one. I
swelled up with pride to be a woman standing on that concrete base with my tiny
camera and boundless hope for our United States future.
I
knew in that moment that I would never take my voting privileges and freedom as
anything but worthy of my time. It is important to vote but more importantly I
think to have a sense of unity running through a country. A sense of
recognition in what all the middle class sacrifices for those in elected
positions of leadership and what peoples’ hard work stands for, all those who
died long before we arrived at this place. When I vote I dress with respect
only to acknowledge all those who died in battles, wars and on our very own
streets. As free as the voting action is, I’m always very aware that that
action could be taken from us at any moment, any place and any time – so I
practice my freedoms with a sense of duty and thoughtfulness for hard working
and taxpaying citizens of any nation.
Voting
is of the essence.
No
different than a wedding ceremony, a baby shower, a great meal, a gathering and
the sound of children’s voices and little children sounds, the sound of barking
dogs in the distance and especially the sound of laughter as well as any other
traditional values that upholds the transitional phases and passage of time. I
know my gods’-given rights to freedom but I also know first handedly that they
can disappear with a drop of a hat and a silence deeper than noise.
I
voted and proudly wore my “I Voted” sticker above my left breast right below my
collar bone for the rest of the evening.
I
do believe in certain rituals such as preparing and dressing for war, voting
and anything else that requires for the sacred to be called upon. It’s not a
luxury rather a cultural female traditional sentiment passed on by older women
who’ve lived far more than I have and so I follow their example to represent
myself with the history of our past traditional National women and their pride
for country and motherland who uphold signifiers to indicate a strong present
era dealing with everything that any era ever deals with.
How
lovely.
Ciao,
Gabriela
I
wish you all the freedoms that not only you deserve and also all the ones that
we take for granted.
August 10, 2010
"The doors we open and close each day decide
the lives we live.” - Flora Whittemore
The Myers-Briggs Type
Indicator (MBTI) assessment is a psychometric questionnaire designed to measure
psychological preferences in how people perceive the world and make decisions.
1.You are almost
never late for your appointments
YES
NO
2.You like to be
engaged in an active and fast-paced job
YES
NO
3.You enjoy having a
wide circle of acquaintances
YES
NO
4.You feel involved
when watching TV soaps
YES
NO
5.You are usually the
first to react to a sudden event:
the telephone ringing
or unexpected question
YES NO
6.You are more
interested in a general idea than in the details of its realization
YES
NO
7.You tend to be
unbiased even if this might endanger
your good relations
with people
YES
NO
8.Strict observance
of the established rules is likely to prevent a good outcome
YES
NO
9.It's difficult to
get you excited
YES
NO
10.It is in your
nature to assume responsibility
YES
NO
11.You often think
about humankind and its destiny
YES
NO
12.You believe the
best decision is one that can be easily changed
YES
NO
13.Objective
criticism is always useful in any activity
YES
NO
14.You prefer to act
immediately rather than speculate
about various options
YES
NO
15.You trust reason
rather than feelings
YES NO
16.You are inclined
to rely more on improvisation
than on careful
planning
YES
NO
17.You spend your
leisure time actively socializing
with a group of
people, attending parties, shopping, etc.
YES
NO
18.You usually plan
your actions in advance
YES
NO
19.Your actions are
frequently influenced by emotions
YES
NO
20.You are a person
somewhat reserved and distant in communication
YES
NO
21.You know how to
put every minute of your
time to good purpose
YES
NO
22.You readily help
people while asking nothing in return
YES
NO
23.You often
contemplate about the complexity of life
YES
NO
24.After prolonged
socializing you feel you need
to get away and be
alone
YES
NO
25.You often do jobs
in a hurry
YES
NO
26. You easily see the
general principle behind
specific occurrences
YES
NO
27.You frequently and
easily express your feelings and emotions
YES
NO
28.You find it
difficult to speak loudly
YES
NO
29.You get bored if
you have to read theoretical books
YES
NO
30.You tend to
sympathize with other people
YES
NO
31.You value justice
higher than mercy
YES
NO
32.You rapidly get
involved in social life
at a new workplace
YES
NO
33.The more people
with whom you speak, the better you feel
YES
NO
34.You tend to rely
on your experience rather than
on theoretical
alternatives
YES
NO
35.You like to keep a
check on how things
are progressing
YES
NO
36.You easily
empathize with the concerns of other people
YES
NO
37.Often you prefer to
read a book than go to a party
YES
NO
38.You enjoy being at
the center of events in which
other people are
directly involved
YES
NO
39.You are more
inclined to experiment than
to follow familiar
approaches
YES
NO
40.You avoid being
bound by obligations
YES
NO
41.You are strongly
touched by the stories about people's troubles
YES
NO
42.Deadlines seem to
you to be of relative, rather than absolute, importance
YES
NO
43.You prefer to
isolate yourself from outside noises
YES
NO
44.It's essential for
you to try things with your own hands
YES
NO
45.You think that
almost everything can be analyzed
YES
NO
46.You do your best
to complete a task on time
YES
NO
47.You take pleasure
in putting things in order
YES
NO
48.You feel at ease
in a crowd
YES
NO
49.You have good
control over your desires and temptations
YES
NO
50.You easily
understand new theoretical principles
YES
NO
51.The process of
searching for solution is more
important to you than
the solution itself
YES
NO
52.You usually place
yourself nearer to the side
than in the center of
the room
YES
NO
53.When solving a
problem you would rather follow
a familiar approach
than seek a new one
YES
NO
54.You try to stand
firmly by your principles
YES
NO
55.A thirst for
adventure is close to your heart
YES
NO
56.You prefer meeting
in small groups to interaction
with lots of people
YES
NO
57.When considering a
situation you pay more attention to
the current situation
and less to a possible sequence of events
YES
NO
58.You consider the
scientific approach to be the best
YES
NO
59.You find it
difficult to talk about your feelings
YES
NO
60.You often spend
time thinking of how things
could be improved
YES
NO
61.Your decisions are
based more on the feelings
of a moment than on
the careful planning
YES
NO
62.You prefer to
spend your leisure time alone
or relaxing in a
tranquil family atmosphere
YES
NO
63.You feel more
comfortable sticking to
conventional ways
YES
NO
64.You are easily
affected by strong emotions
YES
NO
65.You are always
looking for opportunities
YES
NO
66.Your desk,
workbench etc. is usually neat and orderly
YES
NO
67.As a rule, current
preoccupations worry
you more than your
future plans
YES
NO
68.You get pleasure
from solitary walks
YES
NO
69.It is easy for you
to communicate in social situations
YES
NO
70.You are consistent
in your habits
YES
NO
71.You willingly
involve yourself in matters
which engage your
sympathies
YES
NO
72.You easily
perceive various ways
in which events could
develop
YES
NO
Portrait of an INFJ -
Introverted Intuitive Feeling Judging
(Introverted Intuition with Extraverted Feeling)
The Protector
As an INFJ, your primary mode of living is focused
internally, where you take things in primarily via intuition. Your secondary
mode is external, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them,
or how they fit with your personal value system.
INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive
individuals. Artistic and creative, they live in a world of hidden meanings and
possibilities. Only one percent of the population has an INFJ Personality Type,
making it the rarest of all the types.
INFJs place great importance on having things orderly and
systematic in their outer world. They put a lot of energy into identifying the
best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the
priorities in their lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within themselves
on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. They know things
intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge
of the subject at hand. They are usually right, and they usually know it.
Consequently, INFJs put a tremendous amount of faith into their instincts and
intuitions. This is something of a conflict between the inner and outer worlds,
and may result in the INFJ not being as organized as other Judging types tend
to be. Or we may see some signs of disarray in an otherwise orderly tendency,
such as a consistently messy desk.
INFJs have uncanny insight into people and situations.
They get "feelings" about things and intuitively understand them. As
an extreme example, some INFJs report experiences of a psychic nature, such as
getting strong feelings about there being a problem with a loved one, and
discovering later that they were in a car accident. This is the sort of thing
that other types may scorn and scoff at, and the INFJ them self does not really
understand their intuition at a level which can be verbalized. Consequently,
most INFJs are protective of their inner selves, sharing only what they choose
to share when they choose to share it. They are deep, complex individuals, who
are quite private and typically difficult to understand. INFJs hold back part
of them-selves, and can be secretive.
But the INFJ is as genuinely warm as they are complex.
INFJs hold a special place in the heart of people who they are close to, who
are able to see their special gifts and depth of caring. INFJs are concerned
for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. They are
very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which
are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of
agitation or charged anger. They may tend to internalize conflict into their
bodies, and experience health problems when under a lot of stress.
Because the INFJ has such strong intuitive capabilities,
they trust their own instincts above all else. This may result in an INFJ
stubbornness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions. They believe that
they're right. On the other hand, INFJ is a perfectionist who doubts that they
are living up to their full potential. INFJs are rarely at complete peace with
themselves - there's always something else they should be doing to improve
themselves and the world around them. They believe in constant growth, and don't
often take time to revel in their accomplishments. They have strong value
systems, and need to live their lives in accordance with what they feel is
right. In deference to the Feeling aspect of their personalities, INFJs are in
some ways gentle and easy going. Conversely, they have very high expectations
of themselves, and frequently of their families. They don't believe in
compromising their ideals.
INFJ is a natural nurturer; patient, devoted and protective.
They make loving parents and usually have strong bonds with their offspring.
They have high expectations of their children, and push them to be the best
that they can be. This can sometimes manifest itself in the INFJ being
hard-nosed and stubborn. But generally, children of an INFJ get devoted and
sincere parental guidance, combined with deep caring.
In the workplace, the INFJ usually shows up in areas
where they can be creative and somewhat independent. They have a natural
affinity for art, and many excel in the sciences, where they make use of their
intuition. INFJs can also be found in service-oriented professions. They are
not good at dealing with minutia or very detailed tasks. The INFJ will either
avoid such things, or else go to the other extreme and become enveloped in the
details to the extent that they can no longer see the big picture. An INFJ who
has gone the route of becoming meticulous about details may be highly critical
of other individuals who are not.
The INFJ individual is gifted in ways that other types
are not. Life is not necessarily easy for the INFJ, but they are capable of
great depth of feeling and personal achievement.
Jungian functional preference ordering:
Dominant: Introverted Intuition
Auxiliary: Extraverted Feeling
Tertiary: Introverted Thinking
Inferior: Extraverted Sensing
-------------------------------------------------------------
Thoughts about intrinsic and extrinsic qualities: The
introverted vs. the extraverted qualities in peoples’ natures to communicate
and exist. How lovely.
I
almost always felt confused as a teen about my desires to be introverted and
extraverted. I fought a tug-a-war between joining others and having nothing to
do with them; I did have to strike a fine balance as I got older and had more
valuable experiences along the way. Not to say that my experiences weren’t
valuable to begin with only to say that they were limited as a youngster.
I
wanted to eat lunch with other teens but I did not care for idle chat. I did
feel out of place and much of the time confused by sarcasm, bored by repetition
and agitated by surface level interactions. I sensed that we were going through
some type of motion to get the day done and over with. I sensed that my every
waking moment while imprisoned by private and public educational institutions
that I was living in hope for the future. Now, that I live in that future that
I so longed for I am finally at peace.
I’m
no longer a teen much less in my twenties thank the gods and as a thirty three
year old woman I find that the ideal of what I created in my mind is
oh-so-much-sweeter than I ever expected. I love being alive and travelling in
the company of some righteous amazing people. My native Indian people taught me
that suicide was out of the question in life and since I know that this is the
only life I’m going to live that the journey has been worth all the effort,
energy, laughter and at times heart-ache.
I
spend my summers being extremely social so that I may carry my experiences into
long hibernating working winters. I’ve been spending the last eight winters
isolated from much of the world and holed up while non-linear editing video. In
the falls right after Halloween I tend to shut my doors closed to acquaintances
and open up my doors to close intimate friendships sparingly throughout the
winter.
Much
of the time we gather around food, drink, watch films in general and hold
discussion. Many of my closest friends stop by and give some constructive
criticism in the editing of my films. Even though they’re not filmmakers
themselves they have the uncanny ability to see detail, multi-layered meaning
and aesthetics. I love my closest friends for these reasons, alone, to be so
comfortable and relaxed with me to be able to speak their minds about the
things that mean most.
I
know an intelligent and emotionally stable individual through and by the means
of articulation, conversation and analysis. My friends come to me and that
makes it easier on me because I struggle with calling people up sometimes. I
struggle with reaching out to others and I always have even though I make it
look flawless when I do.
I
think that perhaps I have these silly thoughts that I will be a nuisance when
in reality I have had some of my most intimate of friends have called me out on
why I don’t phone or visit more often throughout the winters. Simply, I’m an
old fashioned girl with old fashioned ideals about being invited to places. I
don’t go anywhere I’m not wanted because that would be futile. I’d rather sit
in the middle of nowhere in the woods or in the city alone then try and make my
way through a group of strangers. Not only that I can be awkward and lovely at
the same time. Yet, I hold a double standard. My doors are open to my sincerest
of friends.
As
a Tica, a Costa Rican woman I hold an open door policy to my deepest
friendships yet I don’t dare venture out to my friend’s homes unless it is in
writing and concrete that the visit will take place between noon and tea time.
Joke. Broma. Chiste. An exaggeration, if you will. How silly is that? Truly
that’s how it is with me and I’ll start working on it now so that when I write
in fifteen years from now I will be writing an entirely new yarn. I love that
expression.
I’m
excited and honored as I get older because I’m beginning to hold more private,
intimate and considerate interactions with people, even strangers. In the last
three years alone I’ve been invited to privately owned dance studios, art
schools, historical sites, landmarks, theatres, mansions, pent houses, clubs,
hotel rooms, underneath stages, tour buses, cooking sessions in private homes,
private screenings, yachts, hiking, travel, skateboarding parks and private
recording sessions with artists, business owners, leaders, teachers, healers
and intelligent people who shape and mold the way of the future.
I’m
being trusted into worlds to be as I say I truly am.
Nothing
but my actions portray this to be more true than all the silliness in the world
to hold some warped ideal about the self.
I’m
honored to be revered and considered enough not only to be trust worthy but
also invited in as a guest as any guest should be. I’ve brought my best self
forth and have not only been very appreciative but also smart to see new
opportunity, change, exploration, growth and development in each of these
generous and trusting folks even if we are parallel lines traveling on for
infinity. Some have been people who’ve come to me for ideas to make their
establishments more directly focused with the intent and purpose to monetary
success, respect and always more opportunity for inner and outer metamorphosis.
What else is there? Money, not enough to move the soul.
I’ve
had millionaires, successful artists and gruff business owners allow me to get
settled into their spaces and then they’ve come forth with many difficult and
challenging questions about money, relationships and communication. Since, I’m
analytical and shy I have a rare combination of answering like a woman-child. I
tend to need long breaks after interacting with people but I can be quick at
the draw while interaction is occurring. Nevertheless, I give everything of
myself in those hours and days. Sometimes, it leaves me exhausted long
afterwards. I try to take on the difficulties in people’s lives and turn them
into a world full of wonder, hope and insight. All I’m really good at is coming
up with ideas for alternative function the rest is up to people in their
individual fields.
I
normally will go and find a place underneath a tree or in the woods and light a
candle around corners and secret hidden spots in people’s neighborhoods that I
frequent or I’m a visitor to. When I’m hidden I don’t like to be seen by
anyone. I do this out of respect for myself because some interactions require a
great deal of genius, focus and creative intellectual play. I don’t do anything
with the expectation of anything in return. I just go sit and breathe.
I’m
self-sufficient, independent and I have a home, family and friends. So, I don’t
require much except a glass of water and fresh organic foods (which I carry
with me everywhere I go, anyway). I like to cook amongst strangers if I’m
invited to take my place at a sink in any lovely kitchen. I like to hold
discussions about the universe and sit on counters while we wait for the smell
of cookie dough to bake and rise.
I
get excited walking through people’s lovely terraces, gardens, green houses,
libraries and patios. I get excited about the layout of the world and the many
improvements. I’m smart enough to know how to think like a genius. Smart enough
to be able to hold a conversation about anything at anytime with any man or
woman does. Smart enough to understand the subtle intricacies, needs and
desires of others. I was formed in all my complications and loveliness. I’m as
transparent as any other human. It’s easy to see my entire life and ideals in
the quick flash of my eyes.
It’s
easy to tell if I’m uncomfortable or not. Even though I try to never show my
discomfort in the company of perfect strangers if you know me at all you’d be
able to sense it and pick up on it because my skin will most likely be
screaming volumes. I can’t sit in rooms with people who are verbally violent,
patronizing, cruel and mean for the sake of it because that’s become a known
behavior to them. I will stand up for anyone who is being purposely emotionally
defeated.
I’m
a guardian dog to the sick, ill and mentally off (although I won’t step in
unless I think-it dire). I don’t tend to spend much time with them but if I
come across someone who is being treated unjustly then I’m a “justice bully”
by-and-by as my husband calls me. In conflict to my closest friends I’ve felt
like vomiting afterwards if it’s been a real power struggle in quarrel. I take
it slowly if things are not going well but I also know how to exit quietly from
any situation if need be even if it is the Russian royal ballet on stage - if
something is off like the musicians, dancers and crew I’ll get up and exit – I
was told by a leading welder that he’ll get up and leave any performance at
anytime if it wasn’t for him, I feel much the same. I can sense the timing of
all things I interact with because like all things in nature everything has a
heartbeat, a rhythm and timing.
By
March I’m normally craving a dance floor, a summer dress and high heels. By
April my mind skips ahead and all I have is the desire to head out for a large
body of water, but I also know it’s not time yet because in Minnesota you can
die out on an ice float still yet in April even into May some years. I began to
pop into other friend’s homes and make my rounds throughout the years because
well, it’s that easy when you’ve know people almost your whole life. I like to
see how people spent their winters and if their health, mind and souls are as
healthy as when I saw them last. This is what community of loved ones is all
about for us.
I
don’t take any action of kindness and consideration for granted. Why would I?
It takes effort to bring forth that type of energy into the world. I try to
strike a fine balance in which I’m human and healthy.
When
I think about it I think that I’m introverted because I know that when it is
called upon me to be extroverted that it will take a great deal of
consideration, time and energy. The first time I took the Myers-Brigg test I
was in eighth grade at private school in religion class and the outcome of the
test had been the same all these years later so I must be an INFJ. I don’t
think I’m special by any means of the word but I do think that all my
experiences, life and lessons that have lead me to this point in maturity,
chillaxed attitude and calm demeanor have helped me get a sense for people in
any room. I always know who the alpha, beta and omega are. That’s easy enough.
Right.
Ciao,
Gabriela
May
you always have a little room for inner private lives.
There
is nothing sweeter in my mind then holding thoughts that will never be uttered
but that can be sensed.
August 9, 2010
"Calmness is the cradle of power."
- J. G. Holland
Lonely
Planet
By
The The
Album:
"Dusk" 1993
Planet
Earth is slowing down
Overseas,
underground
Wherever
you look around
Lord,
take me by the hand
lead
me through these desert sands
To
the shores of a promised land.
You
make me start when you look into my heart
And
see me for who I really am.
If
you can't change the world. Change yourself.
If
you can't change the world. Change yourself.
I
didn't care if the sun didn't shine
&
the rain didn't fall from the sky
I
just cared about myself
From
this world to the next
And
from the next back to this.
By
our actions we are bound.
We're
running out of love
running
out of hate
running
out of space for the human race.
Planet
Earth is slowing down.
You
make me cry when you look into my eyes.
And
see me for who I really am.
If
you can't change the world. Change yourself.
If
you can't change the world. Change yourself.
And
if you can't change yourself....change the world.
I'm
in love with the planet I'm standing on
I
can't stop
I
can't stop thinking of
All
the people I've ever loved
All
the people I have lost
All
the people I'll never know
All
the feelings I've never shown.
The
world's too big. And life's too short.
To
be alone...To be alone.
Lyrics
by The The
_______________________
Good
morning.
Buenas.
It
was a most calm and quiet of weekends.
I
feel completely blessed to take a step back from work and take up exploration,
discovery and relaxation, tranquillo.
No?
{Todo esta bien con el Mundo.
El sol viene y la
luna valla para el otro lado de esta parte de la Tierra.
La musica de este
dia, ahorita. Me hace llena de saber a entender algo del alma.
All is well with the
World.
The sun comes and the
moon goes to the other side from this part of the Tierra.
The music of today,
right now. It makes me full to know to understand something of the soul.}
With
those words written I’d like to discuss this particular song “Lonely Planet”.
I’m
no music critic, nor am I trying to become one nor do I care to be one.
I’m
a lovely woman who thinks about such silly things as it may be.
I
like to know what I’m listening to and if anything about the world relates back
to the world, itself.
The
only two things I know about finding musica is by walking into any ma-n’-pa
record shop and leafing through records in the same fashion I would for any fun
book through any library system. I’m an old fashioned girl so I’m drawn by
anything with a smell of old books and their dusty pages. The smell holds some
history. In the same way that old library catalogued cards do and typewriter ribbon.
I love it all. I do think it beautiful. It’s an interactive experience and
someday I’ll blog about 3D Smell-O-Vision films, because
well, how could I not? Yum.
The second thing I know
about finding music is through friend’s mixed tapes, CDs, and MP3 files and any
digital downloadable form of music. I’ve been able to create a very small
library with about 200 artists and that may not be anything to a music
collector. Nevertheless, I’ve loved musica since the day I heard sound, but I’m
not very good at picking musica out so I’ve left it up to my friends to help me
move with the times, because otherwise: Only the gods know what I’d still be
listening to still.
With that said:
“Lonely Planet” is one track
of a song in an album entitled “Dusk” by the musical band The The with a
release date as of 1993. The first stanza of the song makes a religious
reference to “a” god. It is relatively safe to assume that a Christian god is
implied through the linguistic usage of the word “Lord”.
It is imperative to
understand this distinction from any other religious perspective, not to forget
to mention that the band is from the UK. I can only imagine what a fifteen year
old in India would make of this “Lord” reference or per say as to someone in
Mongolia, Sri Lanka and Brazil. Musical tones are indeed universal, however. At
the best of times with the best of translation and linguistic ability to read
English lyrics I think only one thing; What could this song possibly mean to
people all over the world?
You make me start
when you look into my heart
And see me for who I
really am.
This
second stanza in the song arrives through and by the means of a melancholy tone
in the lead singer’s voice. It is obvious what the lyrics imply but what isn’t
so apparent is that the music is haunting and beautiful like a still floating
dream without sound. The singer’s vocal ability is flawless in that he
accurately and with emotion suspends and stretches his lyrics through thin particles
of atmosphere in pitch and tone.
The
sub-chorus is repetitious and timely which allows for the listener to get lost
inside a rocking motion of sound.
I didn't care if the
sun didn't shine
& the rain didn't
fall from the sky
I just cared about
myself
From this world to
the next
And from the next
back to this.
By our actions we are
bound.
We're running out of
love
running out of hate
running out of space
for the human race.
Planet Earth is
slowing down.
In
this third stanza the singer’s voice becomes an instrument of tone, inclination
and synthesized mixture. The voice seems to plead for the selfishness of the
storyteller’s plight to acknowledge something larger than simply and only
caring about ourselves. The last line in the stanza Planet Earth is slowing down creates not only a visual image of the
Earth’s tilt but also a sense of something with variety of meaning,
multi-layered sensibility and with the intent to create the surreal through
linguistic navigational skill.
You make me cry when
you look into my eyes.
And see me for who I
really am.
It
seems as though the main chorus is delivered with plea and a cry out for
salvation. The music climaxes and we are taken back to the secondary chorus of thunderous
controlled background instrumentals, a lingering guitar rift and intensity so
taught it holds all the pressure in the world to deliver the last sensitive and
fragile stanza.
I'm in love with the
planet I'm standing on
I can't stop
I can't stop thinking
of
All the people I've
ever loved
All the people I have
lost
All the people I'll
never know
All the feelings I've
never shown.
The world's too big.
And life's too short.
To be alone...To be
alone.
In
the last stanza the singer delivers his lyrics with a controlled baritone and
intensity of shattered glass. The closing lyrics drive the point home I can't stop thinking of All the people I've
ever loved All the people I have lost All the people I'll never know All the
feelings I've never shown. Here, the lyrics imply the grandiosity and
complexity in a human life. These are some of the most difficult aspects of
life in general and that is what makes life so amazing when we stop to consider
how small and large the world really is to be alone.
Beautiful.
Nothing
but pure raw energy, simplicity and mastery of musical ability.
I
hope that you make time for music in your lives. May you be touched by the
sound of it and may it bring you down to your knees and create the sincerity of
a silent weep.
May
you be blessed in all of your endeavors. Cheers!
Sincerely,
Gabriela
Ciao.
August 6, 2010
“The secret of getting things done is to act.” -
Dante Alighieri
It’s
all happening all too quickly and I can taste anticipation in my mouth.
I
can taste a job well done and so I pet myself on the head and serve myself a
cookie (wink wink).
It’s
been three years of hard work, clarity, learning, mistakes, effort, energy and
self-respect. I’ve always wanted to but I never even so much as qualified to
enter to any large Film Festival. The submitted films endure a rigorous
check-list-criterion before any real consideration can take place. If not, then
the films get thrown out. Next year. Although we’ll shelf many of our films
made but never a final cut for the next twenty years and so we move on with our
present projects. Always.
We
hold premieres here on the Western Hemisphere to launch our feature
documentaries with a release. As an executive producer to a film company it’s
an expensive overhead cost to rent out an entire theatre for an evening – it's
a novel ideal but I'd rather be on the couch hanging out. I can’t imagine
touring - what an overhead expense that must be for many venues to bring in
national acts? Some people are in intense and rigorous business - I can't
imagine. Sometimes we’ve had the events catered but it was a waste of hundreds
of dollars since it seemed people didn’t much touch the stuff and neither did
I. The food looked like limp fish on a plate and when I’m excited like that by
the site of sad looking food it’s made me a little queasy anyway.
My
point is this: The features are still low budget and it’s clear that the craft
has matured because I no longer edit my own features. My features cost a
whopping average of $30,000 a year. That’s a drop in the bucket for any major
studio, but for a real living-life artist and business woman that is the
difference between giving and not giving the world an artistic contribution per
year.
Can
you think of anything in your life that you give away $30,000 thousand a year -
Not related to your human survival needs but above and beyond your needs? You
might as well chuck it up to artistic charity to give so willingly as an
artist. Picture, giving away thirty thousand a year because you believe that
the contribution is worth the effort in the long-long run? I’ve talked to
billionaires who don’t even donate a dollar to anything. Incredible. I don’t
judge it. I budget down to the penny. I’m incredibly frugal because it’s my job
to account for every penny and to stretch it in all its efforts to move
forward. I’m not cheap but I’m frugal and I know the value in anything worth
the effort when I see it – so I go there with all my strength, passion and love
because money only has monetary value its nothing intrinsic of the human
condition and that’s real power acknowledging that money is only as powerful as
the individual and the choices they make with their currency.
It
is a national Film Festival entry form requirement that a documentary of
feature length must have a Western Hemisphere not-for-profit screening and open
to the public. We dutifully fulfilled our requirements as owners to our company
and not so much as filmmakers but as observers of cinematic distribution and
the many contractual agreements behind this profession. My obligation as an
executive is much larger to my features than as a picture maker. When I sink a
film in the can my heart is done. Done! I want to never look at it again; I
want to find more inspiration, seek out new stories, see new pastures and look
to new sites in the shade.
Nevertheless,
as an executive I must breathe a new kind of a life by making sure that we
qualify in all our efforts to something greater than sticking the features into
a can and letting the canisters collect dust. As an executive it is my job to
look forward to negotiations, agreements and transactions. So, I made my
damndest to qualify in every way possible to national Film Festivals – although
their not my cup of tea. I’d rather be home reading a book. Not a snob just
pottery. Damn! Imagine the magnitude of making a feature per year as it is and
taking into business consideration criteria to get films to qualify just to
enter into the world film festival circuit. Lots of hard work. Too much
sometimes and it doesn’t seem worth it yet I considered the thought in my
twenties to spear head an international world premiere in my retirement, I
wouldn’t personally want to run it but set it up to give underground indie
cinema a real try and a run for the world’s idealisms of what contemporary
media and filmmaking is considered to be or not to be cinematically. As of this
week you’re reading one account of an underground indie artist who did it – I
jumped through hoops just to qualify to a national film festival! How odd? No?
Right.
I’m
not blowing my own horn but its fun to have done something so peculiar as to
enter a world film festival with viewership larger than I’ve ever given it much
thought. I don't think like that. I like film festivals in general and I think
it’s a wonderful opportunity for film artist and makers in general. I used to
enter cereal box prices only to see what the price was and once I found out
what it was I’d give it to my sister or often strangers because it didn’t mean
anything. Strange, when you grow up in a third world country with nothing
something far away as a cereal contest doesn’t even enter your cultural mind
and it would’ve appeared weird and exciting if someone had presented one to me
in my earlier childhood because just like Charlie in the Chocolate Factory you
never think that anything like that is ever going to happen to you, not in your
little neck of the jungle so you never get your hopes up instead you plant more
coffee seeds on the side of a mountain and have more hope in that small crop
then in all of the success, money and notoriety in the world.
So,
we’ve met every bloody criterion in the National Film Festival entry
requirement and I’m psyched. I feel like I’m a winner even if no one else sees
it that way! Amazing that for a tiny company that we are just as capable as any
of these major studios to go ahead and compete and place amongst them, because
let’s be real-real it’s expensive for any artist to throw away money into
someone else’s criteria for participation not to mention there is an entry fee
to go along with it also. There is no way that I would’ve been able to afford
to enter in my twenties – not with the way things were. No way was I ready or
much less capable financially to go there in my career. So, this is sweet
success to establish myself at the beginning of my professional mid-career
journey – I meet world film criteria for my films. I’m getting somewhere with
this. All the effort, lost love and close friendships have been worth the
journey to this week.
My
films are low budget indeed and when I started out a decade ago they were much
worse, but they had a lot of perspective, rough cuts and energy in them at that
time. The films of my youth had movement, energy and love. My films now are
very different. I not a non-linear editor so I’ve brought in two other
intelligent professional editors to cut the features so I don’t butcher them.
I
was a slave to my work in my earlier years. I was a slave to other people’s
work in my earlier years and now well, I’m a grown up. I see now. Well, it’s different and I wear
the damn pants in my life and no one else can tell me how to cut or distribute
any film.
I
was going to make the features I wanted to make not because I had a message per
say or because I had anything of any real great importance to convey but
because I saw a need to have processes discovered and information distributed.
I
want my seven generations of offspring to recognize themselves in the life that
we lead here and now. I want my blood to come to the grand realization that
everything I put my hands to I brought forth meaning and beauty into the world.
I may not be a world class filmmaker, yet I started out with intent, purpose
and direction and I’m still on that path because it was my path to bush whack
like any other Mayan Indiana has before me. The women of my ancestry and of the
last seven generations guide me on this journey.
I
could’ve been anything in the world. Smart people are this way and instead I
went and gave my life to cinema especially when art education has been cut all
over America. I think I would’ve liked to work for the world-bank. Numbers, I
really like numbers. Not crunching them, per say but setting up budgets to
follow through with world endeavors. Every time I look in the mirror I see the
story of who we were and now the story that we’re becoming. It’s lovely. I want
to know more about how this story will end on our old age. We’re in no hurry to
grow up many lessons are learned mostly early on.
El
Fin.
The
End.
Gabriela
August 5, 2010
No blog yesterday. Too
much life happened to get to the writing.
Thank you for your
patience.
August 4, 2010
“Innovation distinguishes between a leader and a
follower.” Steve Jobs
My
thoughts this morning are with a close and intimate friend of a decade and two
winters.
A
woman in her own right.
A
sharp mind, a sensitive soul and generous with her words and understanding of
others.
This
woman saved my life like I’ve said before she’s seen through me, under me, above
me and to me.
She’s
understood my many plights and I’d like to believe that I’ve understood hers in
all of our capacity to relate to one another justly, kindly and as two world
citizens can – nothing more nothing less other than a civilized and tranquillo
method of communication.
Mi
Amiga has done for me the only true and valuable service in close and intimate
friendship, listening.
She’s
listened, understood my many questions and has been able to explore the possibilities
to reasons as to why people do as they are. This is a woman like no other
woman. A woman who can blend into any crowd and create laughter with her quirky
and intelligent sense of humor.
I
said my prayers to the Gods and I flushed memories forward of our time
together.
This
woman knows me so well that she knows my limitations as well as I do. She’s
seen me puking out of control onions out of my nose as a transfer student in my
junior year of college. I think she’s seen me make some stupid mistakes on a
skateboard because I got too insecure by a crowd of friends who expected tricks
out of me. I didn’t know any tricks nor do I still. I’m a street rider and she
knew that as well as I did. So, I made an idiot out of myself as a young woman
no big deal this happens in youth and yes it happens in America also. Funny,
how youth works that way, hey? She’s seen me struggle through educational
material and putting in hard hours with tutors and ball and chained to a
learning center while attending the university.
She’s
seen me sleep deprived from days of studying and nothing much more. She’s heard
my genuine laughter and the unstoppable ability to stop once we got going. Most
of all she made my senior year’s photography exhibit the best ever – even though
I sat under a bridge and drank half a bottle of Champaign by myself while she
posed as me. The university was so large my professors didn’t realize that she
and eight others were walking around the exhibit hosting people and having
conversations as they pleased while their name tags all read, “Gabriel,
Artist”. So, as I hear it from her about fifty people mingled and held
conversations about my photography without a clue in the world that I was too
damn cowardly to go to my first exhibit at a Gallery Hall.
She’s
seen me so tired to know that I misplace objects (particularly long and short
sleeve shirts and socks), she knows that when my speech gets lazy and I start
speaking slowly like an uneducated monkey that I’ve become too stupid and
unable to function. She knows that I like to swear in particular company
because it’s as close as I can get to translate a passion that the Spanish
language has in tone and accent that the English language doesn’t. She knows
that I know her to be true, just and kind. I’d do anything for this woman
because she deserves nothing but the best in me.
Memory:
{I knocked on a door
some floors up from my transfer student 24/7 quiet corridor. It long hallway
for transfer students was intended as a joke. We lived in a tower with hundreds
of sweaty bodies and the tower was considered a freshman building with one
short hallway to the left and behind the entrance for junior and senior
transfers. A tiny little hallway that you’d miss if you didn’t know it was
there with a large steel door guarding the hallway, which I guess that was
nice.
That hallway held
some of the most interesting of women. My roommate a cocks-woman for the
university’s men’s rowing team (who got up at 4:30 in the morning to lead the
men through safe waters), a farmer’s daughter (who believed in sucking in her
stomach while she breathed and walked I’d never seen anybody’s abs like that),
my other roommate a South Korean lady (who cooked the most interesting of meals
I’ve ever tasted) and simply the most fabulously dressed women by night and
preppy students by day. Hard working women who held high marks, came from all
over the world and made the university amongst corn fields their home for a
while before heading back to other parts of the world and the ability to influence,
lead and guide others in their fields of expertise, primarily through law and
economics degrees. Women who went out dancing and partied until the rooster’s
call. I loved watching the preparation into sexy armor, high heels and world
class fashion from other parts of the world. These women were proving and
showing that fashion wasn’t born in Iowa City.
Still yet, my
greatest friends at the university were born and raised Iowa women. I knocked
and felt shy about meeting new people still yet I knew that I wasn’t going to
cut it on my own. I’d transferred from a school that I loved in the East Coast,
but the year before I’d been shunned by my closest group of friends. I was sent
out into the world alone and with the help of only one woman and one man I made
it through the most torturous of years that year on the East Coast as a
sophomore. (I’ll blog about it some other time – the story is funny now but it
was sure pure hell then – it almost broke me but not enough not to be sitting
here today and recalling the experience.)
I knocked as I have
already written twice and the door opened for me and a lovely young woman in
her teens with short blond hair held the door open with a smile. I couldn’t
help but smile at her also. I knew that once I stepped through that door that I
would love them and only hoped that they’d find it in themselves to someday
love me, too and they did – otherwise I would not be putting this into words.
I stepped in and what
happened that night changed me forever, even though I drank Tequila in large
quantities and felt the pain two days later these women started to greet me on
the sidewalks and in cafes, soon after we began visiting each other’s personal
spaces and eventually it became second nature to come and go as we pleased. It was
a true friendship amongst all of us that year. We trusted; loved each other; I
will love each one of these women until the day I die. They had shown me
kindness that I’d never known before in American woman. They were kind, just
and sincere. I’d come home once again and I knew that even if they failed me
that I would try my damndest not to fail them in all of my humanity.
There she was the
green eyed beauty. Always sitting in corners and never letting anything escape
her gaze. She sees many multi-layers of meaning, life and humor in all. She is
a person who refused to let go of her inner child, play and innocence.
Nevertheless, this is a sharp mind with greater emotional depth that I’ve only
known in a few before. I like the way her hands move when she talks, how she
places images in my mind to get me to understand when she’s talking about
physics, chemistry and any other real challenge for me that I missed out on all
four years of fourth through eighth grade while I took E.S.L. classes in stuffy
hot rooms in fall and spring and sweltering hot in the winter.}
At
this very moment I hold on my lap two rolls of photography I shot my senior
year. While I visited my friend’s farm and her family on a warm spring weekend
that year she got into a horrible car accident on a dirt road, rolled the car
into the ditch three times. For many years I knew that it had been serious. I
went out early the next morning and looked at the indents made on the earth on
that ditch the previous day. I had twelve rolls of film we had shot earlier the
day before and I could not find a single damn roll not in the car or on the
road. When she rolled the car the windows were open and the rolls of film shot
out like little cannon from the back seat. I did not find a single one that
day.
Just
recently I made the homage to her Iowa-land and met with her the night before
her father was to be buried. I told her soon to be husband this story of our
accident and she bolted out of her chair with purpose, went into the house and
a moment later she came back with a stack of photos and a little piece of
yellow paper which they’d been bound in. The strip bind read, “Gab Pics 1999”.
I held tears back. I wanted to cry for that moment. I wanted to cry because my
friend survived that day and as I wiped away blood from her skin I looked at
her and I breathed life for what the alternative would have been. She handed me
the photos and I was immensely grateful she understood her gesture to be of
grand proportions. I could barely speak. She had returned something so precious
to me that I’d lost that day and in that moment I regained the confidence and
the awareness of why I started taking pictures in the first place.
She
changed me yet once again that night about a month ago and I know her love is
real.
With
Love,
Gabriela
P.S.
May those that want to love you and do love you take you where you’re at in
life, because you do for them.
August 3, 2010
“Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than
you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
(Christopher Robin to Pooh) - A. A.
Milne
I
ran two blocks.
I
ran hard in flip flops.
I
pictured myself running in the same manner as the actress in the German film
Run Lola Run.
I
stopped and waited for two red lights.
I
caught my breath and approached the downtown Minneapolis library.
‘Thank
the gods I’m not in high heels today.’ I thought as I ran.
I
walked up to the front of the building whistled twice.
No
one looked up.
I
entered by way of Hennepin Avenue.
A
wave of cold air hit my entire body and I realized how thirsty I was.
I
crossed the entire length of the library entrance and exited again.
I
saw him sitting in the most comfortable position with calm ability and full of
wonder as he stared at the pedestrians.
‘Ah,
he’s tranquillo so I can be tranquillo as well.’ I thought and smiled seconds
before I approached him. ‘Lovely, I, too, can relax for a few hours, then.’
We
greeted each other with a kiss on each cheek and I felt like I’d gone home to
Duluth in the presence of this New Zealander.
As
we headed out of the library he held open every door for me and I was delighted
as any Latina-Indiana can be. I was in the presence of a gentleman who
understood that-that action is important to a type of woman who has travelled
and met many other kind men. We walked back to my parked car on an Avenue. We
headed south on Washington and I took my visiting friend to my favorite coffee
shop in town. We drove past the Southern Theatre, KFAI Radio and I parked out
front. I was delighted to bring a New Zealander to a place I’ve been hanging
out on-and-off for almost fifteen years and he’s the first person I’ve ever
brought to that place. People I know come and go on their own accord and know
the place well, but a foreigner may not get the same chance to see something as
local as that establishment by themselves. A coffee shop run as a
collaborative. What is there not to like about being a patron there?
We
entered and the clientele was chill on a Monday Afternoon.
I
treated my foreign guest to anything on the menu.
He
picked a spot to sit near a large bay window by the street and I was delighted
I didn’t care.
I
followed his lead.
We
got comfortable in our seats and immediately he was open, raw and honest.
He
pulled out a CD from his pocket and handed it to me. I was beyond delighted
because in his beautiful unique hand writing he wrote my name and the date. He
made me a mix CD and I was more honored than I’d ever been __ _ _______ ____. I
was astonished that he had enough fore-thought and insight to make me a
mix-tape. I too pulled out three films for him to take home with him. I had
held him in high regards in the back of my mind. Enough regard to bring him a
gift to think me by when he returned home across the ocean.
“Gabriela,
how did you get to this Tierra firma?” He asked and I became alert and aware of
his intelligence.
The
conversation got off to a beautiful start in the car about our lives. I smiled.
I was prepared to answer anything truthfully even if it hurt a bit because I
could read it on his face that he was just that little bit more real than most
people I encounter in mainstream America. I sensed that he was culturally
sensitive and with an awareness of a wise man. Nothing got by him and I felt a
little bit like I was under a microscope but not studied per say. I knew that
he caught my every movement and I his. I could see that he really wanted to
know so I answered him with ease as I would any friend as far back as a decade.
“I
was cursed for most of my life with insecurity and the nature to second guess
myself. I did very well in many aspects of my life, too well – extremely well
but there were some aspects that dragged me down and I was a victim to my own
emotions. It was silly and infuriating all at once. I used to be so insecure in
certain situations that I would blurt out the stupidest things, trip over my
own feet, drop things, break things and spill things. It went on like this and
I prayed each and every day to the gods to heal me from such a characteristic
ailment. The more intensified my actions the more I realized that I was
extremely nervous. The worst part was that I could not hide it or do much about
it until, I confronted it head on. I believe that we’re born knowing the
answers and that I already knew the cause, the curse and the cure. I just had
to believe in it and act upon it. It was when I met my husband that I became
free of it. More so when we got married then I found a whole new freedom in my
mind, in my body and with my hands.”
He
stared intensely as I spoke that I had to take my gaze away from him from time
to time. I didn’t feel uncomfortable, his eyes were relaxed and kind, but
intense as only foreigners eyes can be.
“Much
of that is about our own perspective and magnification. We think that the other
person sees us as we do. Especially when we are uncomfortable and out of place
but that’s our own thing.” I liked his accent. I recognized something of
another friend in it.
“How
about you? How did you arrive into your adulthood?” I wanted to know.
“I
haven’t arrived yet. I’m still arriving.” He flashed a quick smile and I caught
it. “It’s been a rough year. I’m slowly moving away from some of it. It sure
has been a rough year.” He leaned back against the wall and I saw an entire
year of difficulties run across his face. “I went through some deep depression.
I don’t know why it hit me so hard but it did. Travelling and being on Holiday
has helped. I’m finding Tierra Firma as well.” He smiled genuinely. I smiled
genuinely, too. “I have a twin brother.” My eyes got real big and my face
opened up. “Are you a twin?” He asked. I laughed. “No, but my cousins who are
my sisters are twins and hardly anyone could tell them apart while growing up
but I could tell their many differences. It was so easy.” A warm glow of a
memory ran across my body as I thought about these beautiful grown women who
are my family and definitely my people.
“Yeah,
right. Of course.” His took a bite from his food. “My twin brother is by-polar.
The medication has changed his body.” He stopped and looked at the table.
“I
understand, truly. I’ve known people and had friends who were heavily
medicated. People who I saw disappear before my very eyes. People who I wondered,
‘Where did you go?’ It was a tragedy.” I, too, stopped and stared at the table
top.
“Yeah,
his body is not the same and his got that distant look on his face all the
time.” I took a swig from my sweet tea. “That far off look.” I didn’t show it
but I hurt for him and his twin brother in that moment as I could only imagine
the sadness of losing a twin brother to this mental illness.“So anyway. It’s
been one of those years where I’m finding and putting pieces of my life back
together.” I smiled because I’ve had years like that and the only real
consolation is that when things do come together there is a real beauty in
getting through it.
We
covered many topics in conversation. We talked about the difficult vibe we get
from returning home to Duluth. We both lived there for a time and this is one
of our main commonalities. We spoke kindly of other common friends and our
experiences to them and with them. We treaded lightly where our families were
concerned but we were very straight forward and without pretence. We spoke
about difficulties beyond our control.
As
we got on a very difficult subject matter in my life – somehow, and I spilled
my tea - he crossed his legs away from me. I was embarrassed because as
difficult as the subject matter was I wanted him to know what had happened to
me as a teenager in relationship to other teenagers. Spilling my drink gave it
away that I’d become nervous and aware of my past. It was a great omen to
confront it head on in front of him at the coffee shop. He sat patiently with
me as I had listened to him talk about his family and brutal year. ‘It’s time to go.’ I thought and tried to
wind down what I was trying to convey, however. I became entrapped in a web of
words and I felt deficient in the English language in that moment.
We
stood up and headed for the door. I liked that he was nothing but a gentleman.
I
liked that he was nothing but himself and that I, too, was nothing but myself
with another lovely human.
The
funniest point in the conversation which made me blush and laugh out loud after
I dropped him off was that I had called him “Scrawny” earlier at the café.
“Gabriela, how about athletic or trim? But scrawny?” We laughed hard. I felt
like such stupid for finding such an adjective to describe his beautiful body
as such. Normally that would not have left my mouth but it did with him and he
did find it amusing. Because he took no insult to it and I had room to
genuinely laugh. He’d brought the gift of laughter with him and I thought, ‘I
want this man to be my friend into my old age.’ We love some of the same people
in common and we respect some of the same people as well. So it can’t be too
far a stretch to love and respect each other in the long run.
I
was honored and happy to be in his presence.
Cheers
to you and yours.
Cheers
to us and ours.
May
you stop and take the time to speak to another man from a foreign land. To see
oneself in their face is to realize that the American mirror reflects
differently than a New Zealander mirror. Different perspective, thoughts,
opinions and beliefs.
Ciao.
Gabriela
How
lovely. His smile still touches upon my memory of yesterday.
August 2, 2010
“Only
the weak are cruel. Gentleness can only be expected from the strong.” -
Leo
F. Buscaglia
“All
cruel people describe themselves as paragons of frankness.” - Tennessee Williams
“Cruelty, like every other vice, requires no motive outside of itself; it
only requires opportunity.” - George Eliot
“Men feel that cruelty to the poor is a kind of cruelty
to animals. They never feel that it is an injustice to equals;
nay it is treachery to comrades.” - G. K. Chesterton
“Detested sport, That owes its
pleasures to another's pain.” - William Cowper
“The most heinous and the most cruel crimes of which history has
record have been committed under the cover of religion or equally noble motives.” - Mahatma Gandhi
The
saga continued and ended, thankfully.
Allow
for me to put it into perspective.
I’ve
committed my services, time and learning to a three month summer
apprenticeship. I’m reconstructing a stage at a private home in exchange for
learning the valuable skill to weld. I go to my apprenticeship weekdays from
noon to five and I work hard at sanding, priming and painting metal steel
rusted decks. It’s a little bit like The Karate Kid; “Wax on wax off.”
I’ve
entrusted my life to my mentor and apprenticeship boss as he has with his five
year old dream to have the stage reconstructed at his beautiful home. My
apprenticeship ends September 1st, 2010.
A
lot has happened in the last sixty days alone. Too much life has happened in
those sixty days and I’ve grown bored, uncomfortable and untrusting of a
stranger who moves out of my friend’s house today. I haven’t seen much of my
boss due to his work schedule elsewhere therefore I’ve been working alone.
Daily I go into a kitchen to prepare my food and drink. My boss and I have an
agreement that I may utilize the kitchen and not wander throughout the house
unless I’m specifically invited and I have done just so.
I
entered through the kitchen door and set the percolator on the stove for coffee
on Friday at noon. “I’d like to continue yesterday’s conversation.” A man of
forty some years of age said to me. ‘What conversation?’ I thought about the
berating I’d received the day before and the sour taste it had left in my
mouth. “I have questions.” He said. I thought ‘Here it comes. Wait for the
craziness because he is out of control.’ I knew what to expect so I wasn’t
surprised at his rudeness, insincerity and cruelty. I knew very well that I was
about to interact with anything less than wise.
He
asked me a question and I tried to answer it as best as I could. “Be quiet! I’m
asking you a question.” He told me and proceeded to ask me another and yet
another. I tried to keep up with his disjointedness in conversation. He told me
to listen but as far as I could tell he was up to five questions and he would
not allow for me to answer any of them truthfully and directly one question at
a time. I knew very well what I was dealing with as any wise man has taught me
on my spiritual journey.
I
was dealing with a man and his personal demons. The greatest demon of all is
the lack of self respect which in turn creates destruction rather than
construction. Have you ever met a man full of self loathing, fear and
loneliness? It’s not a pretty sight. I have, several times one too many in my
lifetime. I don’t believe in an afterlife. I only get one chance for any real
change. If I come back much more than a speck of dust I will be mad as sin.
“I
no longer wish to speak to you. It’s obvious that you can’t listen.” He backed
up and started making his way up a back stairwell. He shouted obscenities at me
as he climbed. I had a moment of weakness and strength as I said, “You’re a
petulant child and you will be treated as one.” He came back downstairs and
told me to get out of his house. “I’m a guest here.” I could barely get the
words out. “Get out. You’re not my guest.” He shouted. “You’re somebody else’s
guest.” ‘Yeah, the owner’ I thought.
“A
host never throws a guest out.” I looked at him while I said this.
“You’re
not my guest. Leave!” He took a step towards me and I knew very well that I was
more dangerous than he ever could be. He’d sized me up and that was his
greatest fault for assuming an entire world of me. I left. I went into the
garage and caught my breath. After a moment I heard the screen door open and he
said in the sweetest-frightening voice, “Gabriel, you left your book here.” I
respectfully answered, “I’ll be right there.” He placed the book on the back
porch railing. Immediately I went back into the house and turned off the stove
and placed the percolator to one side. I couldn’t bring myself to touch the
book where he’d placed it. As I was about to walk away matters got worst, “Get
off my porch or I’ll call the cops.” He had told me to go get the darn thing.
He was crazy.
I
got angry and took a hold of the book. Walked over to the screen door which he
had latched and popped the book against the door frame. “If you call the cops I
have words for them.” I was infuriated and he became cowardly because he
realized that I wasn’t afraid of either him or the authorities. He began to
close the inside door on me. I said with a tremor in my voice, “Are you really
going to close that door on me?”
“Yes!”
He said with satisfaction in his voice. “Call your boss and have him come
here.” I refused to call my boss at work.
“You
cruel-cruel man.” Was my only reply.
As
I descended the back porch steps I began to speak in my first tongue. “Look at
you! Speaking like that.” He came to the door and made fun of me. I lost my
train of thought and all I could do was chant “Child, Child, Child, Child,
Child.” Over his obscenities. I chanted all the way out to the front yard, into
the street and half way up the block. Then, I laughed in his face as I gave him
and the house my back. I rolled my tongue and I gave a war cry. If he would’ve
so much as touched me I would’ve pulled a Van Gogh and tonight a man would have
been missing an ear.
There
is cruelty in the world and you never know where you’re going to find it.
I’m
wishing you all the power and peace that I have found in the beauty that is the
world.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
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