August 27, 2012
“I'm interested in the fact
that the less secure a man is, the more likely he is to have extreme prejudice.” - Clint Eastwood
“Prejudice is a great time
saver. You can form opinions without having to get the facts.” - E.B. White
“There is no prejudice that
the work of art does not finally overcome.” - Andre Gide
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance? Absolutely not!
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Stop The Press!!!
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*) No, absolutely not! Step back!!! You’re
stepping all over my dainty little feet.
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Ready?
One more time…
This time, why don’t I serve this gift to you
upon a silver platter for goodness sake!
I don’t think that Ms. Swift is dumb in any
way, nor ugly nor an idiot nor anything negative of the kind except maybe a
little bit...
Why do you keep learning the wrong moral
lessons? How boring indeed.
I’m a true pessimist who believes there’s
nothing in the glass with enthusiasm and excitement that maybe, just, maybe the
glass has the opportunity to become full of optimists to the brim. Period. Here’s to all of you! Cheers!
I do, however, believe that Ms. Swift is
portrayed in a most negative light through and by the means of mainstream mass media.
(Someone’s creating that portrayal of her, I’m not.)
There she is for you all to scavenger Ms.
Swift. Isn’t that what you desire? The ability to dehumanize another thus you
feel better about yourselves? Yes? Yes! Moving on.
I don’t personally know “this” (ha!) Ms. Swift (wink wink). Who calls somebody, “this”? Is Ms. Swift an object?
Please. I’d hope that The People would
realize that anyone (any human) willing to place themselves directly in the eye
of prey then mince meat. Why? It’s been explained to me that public figures are
property of the public. Ouch! What a tough lesson to learn, indeed.
I’m a private citizen and will continue to be
so unless otherwise indicated however no, thank you.
Nonetheless, if one is to criticize any
public figure, then do it and do it right, bird-of-prey rip away at their kill.
Mother Nature sure is cruel, isn’t she?
Say what one has to say so long as it’s
understood that a public figure is indeed a National Treasure and is a person,
one, that ought to be respected (face-to-face) at all costs and that’s what
tips the odds in any public figures’ favor, their wealth and their free
publicity at getting treated humanely and receiving financial bonuses, free
merchandise, favors and the such; no matter what social blunders are committed
at the end of the day, public figures make out with a cash cow.
Do you understand this?
One is to have a heart for others but never
misunderstand the business of public figures; which, more often than not
distract from the real politico issues of the times. Moving on. Next.
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Don’t you understand this point clearly?
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Can’t you tell when media sensationalizes
anything?
Please. These are whipping lessons of the
literary type to get you to think about your prejudices. Hello, anyone in
there?
There
I spelled it out.
I
hate it when I do that as a writer because it gives away the moral lesson without
having you do any of the homework.
The lesson is for the audience to grasp the
cruelty in the lesson thus the audience can act upon kindness in their personal
lives.
People sure are weird. Don’t judge. Get off
my toes and have a lovely dusk.
If you’re so very lucky as to ever so much as
encounter lovely Ms. Swift then do so kindly and gently wave at her and leave
her alone, she, too is human; it’s just that the public media likes to prey
upon such a public figure because it’s easy. Don’t you see? Tell me that you do
because I’m yawning over here.
Ah, enough!
It’s always a rebuttal isn’t it?
How tiresome to take my writings so literal
when it’s in the concrete examples that one ought to feel a ten square brick
ton, levitating and hovering over your heads by the tools of sonic sound. How
Western of you guys and gals to misunderstand wisdom at its infinite information.
Take it or leave it. There sits a gift of
friendship upon a silver platter and no, I don’t expect anything in return.
Thank you. I’m that sophisticated.
*) No, I don’t literally hate America.
However, I do write literal prose to create concrete examples to get you to
study prejudice. Who do you think I am?
A brute? Hardly. On the contrary!
Please! You wouldn’t really know what to do with stern, polite sweet kindness
if it came your way. Lovely. Ha!
*) No, I’m not leaving the country without
Eric. Get that through your thick skulls.
*) I’m shutting all forms of media down for
the next three weeks. Television’s garbage. I have some real Minnesota camping and
reading to do.
*) No, my heart is right here inside my
chest. Thank you very much.
I didn’t bury my heart at Wounded Knee but I
most certainly could leave a piece of it at Wounded Knee. I hope to leave a
kind and peaceful piece of my heart at Wounded Knee as a gift to The People’s
of the Earth.
*) Yes, I believe that once a hack always a
hack.
*) Yes, I believe that if one is going to
work at the White House then there’s a type of etiquette and protocol in conduct
that one ought to follow.
My Grandmother taught me to set the table for
the White House while my Grandfather taught me to speak business as though one
were always playing golf with the boys at the Pentagon.
Peace. Peace. Peace. Chill out!!! Have a
beer.
Cheers.
Goodbye.
Gabriela
P.S. We’re heading west. Peace. Chill out!!!
For Goodness sake! Around here we don’t raise an arm at anyone in violence
however we were taught to create chaos through professional art.
*) Everything that I’ve written about Uptown
is true to my life experience. I love Uptown as I love Duluth but they sure
have one thing in common don’t they? And that’s that.
August 26, 2012
“Absence diminishes mediocre
passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans
fires.” -
Francois de la Rochefoucauld
Happy Sunday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
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I, too, left my heart at Wounded Knee:
I’m mad as the dickens because I hate living in the United States of
America. (There I said it.) The only reason why I
stay here is because Eric, my beloved, is here and also our Northern American Elders
live here as well.
I’ve hated this bigoted, mean, racist,
sexist, ageist and lying Nation for about twenty five years. I was adopted into
an abusive culture and I hate its guts for the lie it told of safety,
opportunity and justice.
I’m Costa Rica’s pacifist Daughter by and by.
On Friday I quietly celebrated the twenty fifth anniversary of my American
adoption and as most adoptees will privately disclose
that they hate being stolen, enslaved and brought abroad to the United States
of America under the pretense of safety while forced to live out quiet lives of desperation in a two-faced
Nation that shows them each and every day how much it hates them.
Adoptees hate being adopted and that torch of
hatred they’ll most likely carry with them until the day they die because not
even bees are bought for with currency. It’s bad luck and everybody knows it.
Only slaves are bought.
If you don’t know by now; most female
adoptees are depressed most of their lives while male adoptees are violent.
Look it up; the research’s out there.
I consider myself a happy person because I
don’t take out my anger on perfect strangers.
I most definitely am an angry person because
I was lied to by the powers that be yet I’m
intelligent, do-and-can control this
firing anger by creating rather than destroying even though a lot of things bug
me about this American life.
Americans hate themselves thus they hate
everything around them. It’s obvious.
All one has to do is to go and peacefully get
an overpriced organic cup of coffee in Uptown and they’ll do everything in
their power to come short of scolding a brother or a sister by throwing that
cup of hot coffee in their faces.
I’m coming down from (2004-2012), eight straight
years of taking public abuse in Uptown Minneapolis, Minnesota while a patron in
public. I hate the lie that is Uptown, Minneapolis.
Please don’t stop supporting their businesses because Uptown needs it
badly, however for an Indian like me to enter any
establishment in Uptown as a patron is dangerous business because I did get the
sense that I could’ve gotten my throat cut open at any one moment with my hot
cup of burned-coffee thrown in my face along with my overpriced vegan patchouli
oiled food and call it a mistake.
Uptown is made up of “White Trash” (not my
words, yours) hipsters who never went anywhere, did anything and pretend to be
too cool for community action.
I’m not
really mad. I’m sad. I could bring you to tears or down on your knees but I
won’t.
I hate America because I learned early on
that my hard earned dollar wasn’t worth a lick as an Indian woman.
I hate America because even though I never
panhandled or asked other patrons to so much as buy me a morsel of food while I
starved in America I was still treated and considered a social perpetrator of
culture. (As if.)
I hate America because I’m considered a “dirty
Indian” and I’ve been made aware of such an injustice by getting followed
around the Electric Fetus in Duluth, Minnesota at the ripe age of fifteen as
though I was going to steal the weird merchandise even though I’ve donated four
hundred thousand dollars to worthless artistic causes in the past decade.
I hate America because America self-loathes.
I hate America because America preaches too
much but doesn’t know how to be excellent Christians in the words of Jesus
Christ his holy savior; “God is in you.”
I hate America because it seems that for as
much of an evangelical and fundamentalist preachy political speeches and
system; that Americans have abandoned God and only take him out as a way to
sell elections or buy prostitutes.
I hate that the Republican and Democratic Parties likes to
fuck prostitutes while giving the middle finger to the taxpayer but as soon as
they reach a podium then they’ll preach Godly politics until they go purple in
their faces. Nope.
I hate America for being such a bitch to its
people.
I hate America for becoming so shallow under
the influence of former president Reagan (boy, did Americans buy into that lie.
No wonder real punks do exist).
I hate America for being such a political
male whore.
I hate America for spiritually, mentally and
physically enslaving its people.
I hate America for being a two-faced ‘Douchebag’ (one word).
I hate America for its cruelty.
I hate America for its lack of cultural
progress.
I hate America for halting innovation which
is the mother of possibility.
I hate America for stealing the Civil Rights
and Liberties of The People.
Right now Eric’s doing everything in his
power not to have me get on a plane and leave forever and become an American
expatriate.
I don’t see what’s the point to living in
America?
Americans hate because they see and feel no
hope and that’s a dead culture when The People have given up on all hope.
I hate America because I love America.
With Respect.
Peace.
(A whipping lesson on being a Tica. Ha! One
can be as mad as hell and create all the art one wants but one may not raise an
arm against another.) Wonderful!
Gabriela
P.S. Yes, I can see how The American Public
has begun to hate the guts out of Ms. Taylor Swift. Poor Ms. Swift.
She comes across as arrogant, removed, and
dumb pretending to be intelligent, without a single clue as to what’s happening
to her people, The Americans.
Somewhat retarded
when it comes to her public responsibilities as a public role model.
Poor, poor Ms. Swift. I’d give her an F-. She
has much to improve upon, however and nevertheless I wouldn’t have asked her to
leave our wedding because that would’ve been in poor conduct on our part as
hosts, especially when she was an invited guest of another delinquent familial guest.
Yet, again if I would’ve been in her shoes, I’d not attended in a million
years.
Why are young adult American women so
shallow, without a clue of what’s happening to America today? Why are they so
selfish and self-centered? Why are the Millennials as stupid and deadly as many
fat and overweight Baby Boomers gorging themselves while The People starve?
I don’t know who Ms. Swift is, nor do I
pretend to care; nor do I go out of my way to care. I just found out who she is
as of last week. We don’t know each other personally nor have we ever met.
Goodbye.
*) Once a hack, always a hack.
What people hate most is highflyers who don’t
really work for their arrogance in expertise.
Anybody with a camera can be a hack.
Anybody with a camera can be a loser.
Anybody with a camera can be a poser.
Especially if they speak when they know they
ought to be silently intelligent.
People hate seeing spoiled snot nosed
highflying hacks on the Tele take credit for something that they’re mediocre at
especially when it comes to documenting the White House’s serious and important
events.
People hate a brat for a bragger who requires
to make money from The People’s bottom dollar when it comes to selling books
and merchandise; Or if a hack has very little experience at being a
professional and proven so then the public sees them as weirdoes while the rest
of the country suffers and one brags about their plastic success.
People aren’t ageist. People are sick and
tired of snot nosed Millennials bragging on T.V. while The People starve and
fear for a real future.
*) Republicans; “No Comment” means no comment. Otherwise, you sound like
some stupid lawyer’s advice and The People hate pretentiousness.
*) There is such a lie as
“clean coal” and “clean mining”.
*) I’ve been fighting raging headaches for
five hours at a time in my sinuses in which I almost feel like falling over.
How imperfect the human body is indeed. Peace.
August 24, 2012
“Eating coals of fire has
always been one of the sensational feats of the Fire Kings, as it is quite
generally known that charcoal burns with an extremely intense heat.” - Harry Houdini
Happy Friday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance? (Okay, but just a short dance. Look, I’ve got to be out of here soon.)
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If you think I’m cruel then think again.
Today’s writing lesson: Sensationalism, for or against a
protagonist and / or sensationalism for or against an antagonist. Moving on.
No. No. No. No.
Why do you keep learning the wrong moral
lessons?
How exasperating to keep repeating this
literary lesson in racism, bias, prejudice, discrimination and hatred. How is
one going to learn to dance in a relaxed manner to love?
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Now where to begin? Oh, yes.
What is a Role Model?
(Anybody know the answer to that question?
No? What a bummer.)
I don’t know what a “professional role model”
is, per say, living and working in the
public eye, exactly by definition
however I have plenty of real time role models (and the Tele, who knows?) it’s
difficult to find role models as it is, and / or for public figures. Thus, my “amateur”
analysis and professional artist gut feeling is that there aren’t any public
figures for role models unless proven so. Moving on.
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Shall we get to the crux of it all: Ms. Taylor Swift sure is a lovely woman
like any other lovely women of this Earth.
“If this” (ha!), Miss Taylor Swift (what an amazing
name) would have so much as considered to participate in our quite humble and
sacred ceremony that morning at city hall in a downtown Minneapolis courtroom then not only would we have invited our
guest and his guest to be a witness to such a civil union and honored both
guests, as our Great Guests of Honor
without any pretences about anything in life.
Allow for us to see Miss Taylor Swift as the
lovely woman that, which, she portrays herself to be and allow for Miss Taylor Swift
to be seated at the left hand (correction) of the bride because even the
bridesmaids are such gracious and graceful women, that they’ll move on down for
any guest of honor. Women make room for each other at table’s amongst strangers
without going into one’s entire life-stories. Cheers!
Now, when Miss Taylor Swift is the
protagonist at all costs then the
odds tip in her favor.
First, this must be said; people get awfully
offended when others “jump the gun”.
Need I say more? Absolutely, not!
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What happens when a ball player strikes out
three times? OUT!
What happens when a runner “jumps the gun”
for the second time? OUT!
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Now, like
if people care what happened to Miss Taylor Swift at this Kennedy wedding.
Lovely Miss Taylor Swift was a guest invited
by a family member who ever so rudely phone / texted / called (whichever) an
hour before the wedding ceremony? Yes? Yes.
Okay. Well, what does a guest-of-a-guest have
to do with that?
I mean, that’s the primary guest’s fault for being so rude to his invited guest on his
behalf. Yes? Yes. Of course.
Why didn’t he care about Ms. Taylor Swift’s
health?
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My instinctual question is to ask this: where are Ms. Taylor Swift’s people to allow
her to make such a blunder amongst private society? Oh, no!
What’s going on?
That’s a personal-personnel oversight. No?
Yes. What happened? In which Ms. Taylor Swift got splashed across the media;
across the United States of America like a toy for cats; that, which is her dignity was compromised and taken for granted as
a guest-of-a-guest (I know that translated).
A proper host doesn’t compromise the safety,
comfort and dignity of any guest otherwise we won’t pass on our DNA on as a
civilized cultured society.
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A short story: I was, once, asked to leave a theater of my
own executive production as the boss because I was going to “Stop the Press”.
I was going to halt all production, (not
progress) until some financial appropriations got squared away.
I had to with all my dignity and grace walk
quietly and without making a fuss out of that theater because I knew the
following secret; I wasn’t respected enough to consider what I had to say to
the entire cast and crew about the misleading and mishandling of the production
when the rest of us weren’t paid for our professional efforts except for the
director. (Granted this wasn’t a private affair, nonprofit business is quite
public.)
I was a Lady indeed that dusk evening as I
made my way out of that theatre and it was the longest walk of my entire life. I
didn’t do it alone. A man, a kind man was strong enough to escort me out even
if I could’ve been on the verge of tears with disappointment in his misconduct.
I walked out with my head held level to the
ground and I didn’t wail as I had previously inside that lower theatre, alone,
as a middle finger to everything that’s ugly in the world.
What a lovely woman of the world. According
to one Television Network commercial entertainment eye witness; Kathie Lee
Gifford (I love how she drinks wine in front of America and doesn’t pretend
anything); Mrs. Gifford did indeed see and heard young Ms. Taylor Swift be asked to please leave the venue, twice,
and Ms. Swift did so peacefully and quietly with her friend.
What more is there to be said? Nothing.
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Furthermore, for the next three weeks I’d
like to do a case study upon the cruelty in sensationalism through and by the
means of major network media. This ought to be juicy.
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In conclusion, things aren’t as they appear
to be.
“Allegedly”; people don’t care, but they do, just enough to get offended as they
ought to when a rude guest is rude to his guest. No, really. Why ruin the
image and the dignity of another if not necessary?
The lesson in kindness is that Ms. Taylor
Swift and any other woman of the world as a guest-of-a-guest is always more
than welcome at any stranger’s table at any wedding because food is a most
sacred union and so is love and to be a witness to that, alone, is indeed
remarkable. Cheers.
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In a second conclusion: What is and what
appears to be are two opposites attract.
Sincerely and with much respect to all
parties involved with such a tough lesson to teach.
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The reason as to why it’s such a huge deal to
be the guest-of-a-guest is only because those doors wouldn’t otherwise be open
to one.
Although, I had been a primary invited guest
at a gorgeous wedding, once, in Minnesota; that
I happened to work as a camera operator,
(as an already established gift to the happy couple because when they
approached me and asked for pricing on video they couldn’t afford for me to
work at their wedding, (which I don’t film weddings in the first place), thus
we gifted our film to the couple); and when
we were seated with the staff, the insulting and rude caterers; (who exchanged
currency with the bride and groom for their services); I tried not to look at
my friend of seventeen years, because I could see the bride and groom hoping
that I didn’t notice too much (of any of it) as to where we had been seated (but
it’s difficult not to notice when one gets trained early on to notice function).
Who were we? Nobodies. Not even friends of the bride and groom, apparently even
though we had been neighbors for a few years.
It’s alright.
Social blunders happen.
It wasn’t until a Harvard-tourist caterer and
owner started being condescending and rude about everything she knew about the
East Coast and Harvard; that we got up to leave because we were being
considered competition rather than as guests. I couldn’t even bring myself to
dance once. I felt ill at the bottom of my…
All these years later I still have the rough
footage.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch
it much less cut it.
I’ll not work another wedding even if it’s
considered a gift.
If I’m not even considered a guest then,
heck; I’ll sit down with the dishwashers and laugh hard but let’s not pretend
that anyone can afford my work as a filmmaker otherwise it’s in poor taste. I
volunteered the project but I haven’t completed it because my heart’s not in it.
Sigh.
This is the third spoiled brat for a
high-horsed Minneapolis caterer that’s been outright rude to me as a guest.
Wow. Crazy people out there overstepping serious boundaries in communication
because they’re insecure of their placement at the bottom of the pecking order.
Heck, I’ll sit on the floor if need be to make more room for others in complete
respect as an Indian or at the kid’s table but let’s not pretend what this
is…an oversight in…the hostess’s…
“You can drop the attitude. You work in a
shop.” Ha! Just kidding. I love that line from a Brit sitcom.
Peace,
Gabriela
P.S. The following words: “What Trash” I’ve
said those words three times in my life out loud as of June 2012 and I’ve been
ill all three times. (I’m being taught a lesson in power and by the way I’m not
the lesson, the lesson; is, the lesson.)
The following words: “Shut up.” My Father
once said to me to paraphrase; “ ‘ you can say anything you’d like, except for
‘shut up’”.
“The reason why you can’t tell people to
‘shut up’ is because who are you to tell another not to speak unless an enemy
is being out of line and condescending.”
I took his words to heart.
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I’m repeating your language so that you may
better understand that people’s private lives are nothing to trifle with.
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*) “Pride and Prejudice.” How Jane Austen had
it so right.
*) Cheers! This ought to be a calm, cool and
collected night for Ms. Taylor Swift at discovering that life is full of
mistakes, social blunders and dumbness. She won’t be making that mistake again,
will she, now?
*) Oh, did you like that tongue lashing; well
shame on you!
Are Americans great role models or aren’t
they?
Entertainment is one thing and individual
life quite another.
When it comes to respecting others, sometimes
life calls for the gifts of friendship to be handed over on a silver platter even
against social protocol and it’s up to the other as to how one will conduct
oneself as an excellent human guest.
Peace and love to Ms. Taylor Swift on this
fine dusk August evening.
I’m losing day light over here… How beautiful.
How splendid this light.
*) Do you know what Rottweiler’s were bred
for right? Right? The Rottweiler was bred to help Hannibal herd his Elephants
over the Alps. How incredible! HA! (I wouldn’t lift up a leg to piss on a
thousand year old hand woven rug but I most certainly would raise a hind leg
and… on a tallest building.) Ha! Life sure is funny! Indeed.
*) What movie is the following line from:
“Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Ha!
August 24, 2012
“When I stand before God at
the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent
left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'. - Erma Bombeck
Happy Friday!
Aloha.
P.S. How obvious and vulgar it is when one
human pretends to be royalty when
their shit stinks just as much as the rest of the populous and wants to use
another human for their heritage, lineage and prestige for the sake of
interest? Social climbers. Absolutely, obvious! Marshmallow fluff. Dirty. Dumb.
Boring violence.
The prestigiously wealthy of America seem to
have become bored with themselves thus they hang out with the “White Trash”
celebrities who RSVP one hour before a wedding (what a horrible influence).
That lack of respect for any partner’s family
ought to be an indicative that a certain young woman is terribly matched with
another certain young man whose Mother just passed away this summer.
It’s obvious that she doesn’t care about his
health.
Why is it that celebrities like to weasel
their way into some of the wealthiest and prestigious families in the Nation
when they have absolutely no old world culture to contribute to? What gives?
Money doesn’t mean anything and neither does
cuteness to the wealthy when it comes to prestige.
Do the wealthy not have people watching out
for them any longer?
Where are their best friends for guard dogs?
I’m a Rottweiler guard dog.
I’m as Mr. Darcy is, to some of the most
prestigious people in the Nation and without my approval then good luck getting
past the outer front door no matter who the hell your delusional self thinks
you are.
No, I’m not any type of body guard or bouncer.
I’m a social snob of the worst type. I need absolutely not a thing from
prestige because I’m prestige itself and I was taught to be so. I’ll RSVP (if an
envelope is addressed to me personally; otherwise if addressed to anybody else
then that’s their business) in advance out of respect for all parties involved.
Poor Harry. Poor Kennedys. Are you cringing yet? I know I am.
A celebrity doesn’t stand up to modern
prestige because it’s made up of old world values and ideals that require many
codes to open many doors and only taught and gained through centuries of prestigious
familial education which rules can and are broken when one has done one’s
homework, only then can one...
Why is it that pretigeous American family
members and friends can’t seem to watch out for their young especially when
celebrities come sniffing their young’s rear ends like horny poodles?
I’m quite a New England poem.
I can make a crass metaphor out of anything
because I know…
I can come out and say anything so long as I
mean it and; I, most certainly do.
People are such users of the human heart,
especially when they want something that’s simply and only triggered by
intrigue; what shallow inspiration to come close to human Demigods but not to
be respected by them when one doesn’t respect their ancestral social rules and
codes in hierarchal standing.
How awful and how embarrassing to getting so
close to prestige; to stand inside of it and yet become quite ignored by it
because they all know what a poser
wants while the rest of the family bides their time for this “fluffy thing” to
go away. Cheers.
What a terrible conundrum to have a stray dog
who metaphorically likes to hump the prestigious and wealthy on the leg while
the untrained dog pisses away on a thousand year old hand woven rug. How top drawer. Pity.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
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*) (Corrections: I’m human! Eric tells me
that we have Dish Network and not Dish TV.)
Okay, the
nice lady Doc has prescribed for me to do nothing for three weeks thus I’m
starting right now because I have Carpal Tunnel.
I think I’m either going to read books or
watch a lot of this so called Dish Network.
My friends tell me that for as much as I’m a
filmmaker I don’t know anything about Television (10 minutes a day) so I’m
going to run a three week Television case study.
I’ve not watched Tele for 24 hours straight
yet I don’t think. I don’t think I’d
make it through it. However, wow three weeks to watch anything I want for hours
at a time. I might gain the eleven pounds back and kick-back with it.
Wonderful!
My Father said that I can hang out at friends’
houses but what he doesn’t already know is that that’s all we do, if we’re
going to go out then we hang out at friend’s houses instead of in public. We
love board games with our clothes on, of course.
See you on: Monday, September the 17th
of the year 2012.
Take it away.
Break a leg.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
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P.S. Last night I caught one hour of “The
Rachel Maddow Show”. Wow! (I have two questions.)
*) No, I’m not an heiress. No, I’m not
Royalty. I don’t pretend to be either of those two nor do I care, I’m mere
mortal like anyone else. I’m an adult woman. Thank you.
*) Please, don’t let the Republican Party
take away Medicare. Please. No.
*) We’ll discuss fundamentalists in any
religion.
*) No,
I didn’t vote in the primaries last Tuesday.
We refused to vote down the Party’s line.
I’ll get out my vote come this November 2012. Whomever you vote for, get out
and vote because more is at stake in this election than it was in the last
presidential election.
*) I’ve got a serious letter to write that
I’ve been putting off for twelve years.
How humanly awkward, but I’ve been asked to
write it anyway and I do have kind words thus I must muster up the courage to
do so otherwise, another twelve years might go by and I might not write the
letter at all while my long term acquaintance gets more and more famous with
each passing picture and I’ve meant to write all these years but now I don’t
seem to know as to where and how exactly to begin. Fun. (I’m blushing like any
woman of the world.) (I’ve fallen in love with baby sloths.) I don’t like pandas because they’re quite
violent and dangerous. I guess Pandas are a mean species while sloths aren’t.
August 23, 2012
“Learn from yesterday, live
for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.” - Albert Einstein
“A very small degree of hope
is sufficient to cause the birth of love. - Stendhal
“Any people anywhere, being
inclined and having the power, have the right to rise up, and shake off the
existing government, and form a new one that suits them better. This is a most
valuable - a most sacred right - a right, which we hope and believe, is to
liberate the world.” - Abraham Lincoln
Happy Thursday! (Wow!)
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
Personal Disclaimer: No, I don’t believe in any violence of any
type nor war.
No, I’m not a rebel of any type nor do I care
to become one. Thank you.
No, I’m not a social agitator nor a political
crusader. No, thank you. (I’m too lazy for such foolish nonsense.)
I won’t tell you as to what to boycott.
I won’t tell you as to whom to vote for.
Those are two quite private and personal
decisions each adult must face on their own.
I’m a woman born to this era, writing
passionately across the page without causing murder. Thank you. I’m neither
physically stabbing nor wounding anyone with my written words (we’re not former
U.S.S.R. Commies over here, we’re professional American artists).
I’m writing to give the reader something to ponder
and seriously consider not with a free will, because freedom isn’t free; but rather with their frontal lobe solutions
and intellectual exercises that are indeed free. Cheers!
---
--- ---
I’m a social moderate, Pro-Choice, economics-based
“former-Republican-Party”, voter.
These crazy, insane and split branches of the
real Republican Party means nothing to The People; the modern GOP Republican
branch and the modern Tea Party Republican branch don’t have my vote in this November 2012 presidential
election because these two branches will murder our women and children (if they
can get away with it) right under our noses through legislative means -- execution
style and call it an evangelical prayer upon the basis of fundamental religious
beliefs not constitutional rights and liberties. Nope. Captain America would be teaching these Nazi Fascists a whipping lesson
on humility, humanity and justice.
I haven’t come across so much hatred in the
rhetoric of any Party’s branches such as these two branches; the GOP and the Tea
Party: (They want to what? Electrocute our Mexican brothers and sisters at the
border? What are they talking about? I haven’t the slightest clue. (Ha!) Do
they mean organized murder like Mexico’s…?) (I didn’t say it first.)
Why does the GOP and Tea Party hate Americans
so much?
What is it that makes the GOP and the Tea
Party such haters of the American People?
Why do they hate The American People with
their incriminating policies and rhetoric?
I can’t believe for one single moment that
these insane evangelical and fundamental GOP and Tea Party branches will do
well by The People when their words and policies are so hypocritical even by
the words of their own evangelical God and their ledgers. Yep. Ledgers.
The GOP and the Tea Party are the devil
incarnate, that’s for certain.
Wake up Americans!
A political (pacifist) war of ethics, media
fact checking and policies is upon us, which desires to enslave the Americans
and then murder the Americans. No. No. No. No. Otherwise humans, too, can go
ape, which I don’t suggest violence, ever, ever if one can help peace by
thinking of solutions with the frontal lobe.
Americans are an innovative and progressive
people, We; The People hate one thing and that’s to be swindled out of our
American bottom dollar in exchange for evangelical and fundamental lies.
The GOP and the Tea Party will and have done
so; they’ve swindled Americans out of our God given money, civil rights and
liberties.
These two insane branches of the Republican
Party; the GOP and the Tea Party have an atrocious and heinous voting track
record on the Senate and House floors; what they’ve voted for in the Senate and
in the House is indeed implementing murderous policies plus they’re horrible
economists. Posers, I tell you; posers.
Do you know what I hate most about these two
Republican delusional branches?
I hate that
they think that the way that they think is the way that the rest of the country thinks,
when in reality the country’s needle rests at the center of prosperity,
humility and respect. The rhetoric of The People doesn’t pin-out. No, The
People are Zen even after a decade of starvation and American sacrifices.
The GOP and the Tea Party are rapists of
women’s policy; without “the choice” then the GOP and the Tea Party might as
well be the rapists of women themselves. Haters!!! Kick them to the curb and
vote for anyone other than deadly and mean spirited Republican branches.
How painful to write such words since a 1990’s
Republican voter.
It’s true how awful the Republican Party has
become and I won’t vote across the Party’s line when so many hateful posers
have run for office…Yuck.
More later… (As of now Mr. President Barack
Obama doesn’t have my vote either because I want my constitutional Due Process
back as a taxpaying citizen under the United States of America’s judicial justice
system.) Thank you!
Sincerely,
Gabriela
P.S. If I may
be so bold as to state the following and with all due respect please do forgive
my ignorance in saying so, however and nevertheless; I’m truly grateful
that His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of Britain is safe after this quite
public fiasco on the American press, Tele and radio; His Royal Highness’s
enemies don’t seem to care enough about His Royal Highness’s health; (May I
address His Royal Highness by his first name?) No? Yes, of course. The entire world by now has seen His Royal Highness
in his birthday suit.
Well, (I wouldn’t want to be in that room
when his Grandmother, Her Royal Majesty the Queen, Herself speaks to His Royal
Highness). How awkward that may become
for His Royal Highness to put his Grandmother in such a situation. His Royal
Highness has much to consider.
No friend is one that risks the lives,
credibility and dignity of another much less places the other in any type of
danger or peril such as playing “strip billiards” with those so much as daring
to take any type of photograph of His Royal Highness, Himself without
permission.
How awkward for the bastard who took the
picture and even more so for the bloody scoundrel who let those pictures go
public.
What did His Royal Highness think was going
to happen in a digital media age? Please.
Why was His Royal Highness in a room full of
strangers, haters or enemies? Please. I’d have to say that’s a security detail
that was overlooked.
A National Treasure is all too human, full of
mistakes and valuable to The People’s of the world for what they represent. We’re
rooting for His Royal Highness because He’s
worth His every breath of life. Cheers! Cheers! Cheers! Hip! Hip! Hooray to
those rowdy Brits!
I’d have to admit that was a pretty dumb-prep-boy-punk
thing to do.
[(I was thinking that as a social punishment;
for the person or people who took the digital photographs of His Royal Highness
in the first place ought to volunteer
at a strip club for a year and to really get to know the women they so
obviously objectify as they did His Royal Highness (dehumanization is
dehumanization through and by the gains of objectification)].
(Remarkable, if one doesn’t have permission
to take a picture of one in clothes then much less does one have permission
while another is in their birthday suit, to
put it lightly.)
Obviously, the people in that room that night
aren’t Prince Harry’s friends after all.
*) There may not be any professional Role
Models in the world today?
I mean, some monks like to get in intoxicated
and gamble, Roman Catholic priests have a tendency of raping children
(specifically a liking for little boys), politicians pass heinous laws destroying
the health and fair wages of The People and well, somebody’s stealing from the
American till while The People keep making the mistake of getting caught in the
nude in this digital era. What gives?
*) Sigh.
*) Nope. Step back. I personally love many
GOP and Tea Party Republicans and that’s that. However, how we do disagree and
debate.
*) Nope. Step back. I’m as free thinking as I
have the courage to be and I adore Big Ten football. Are you kidding me? We’re
rooting for the University of Iowa’s football team all the way because those
are my brothers whom I took serious dance and poetry writing classes on the
different structures in the poetics of genre writing. Dry, cut and boring
stuff. We made it, through it. I believe in these men as I would any surrogate
brothers. Cheers! I love football while I live for professional art; and my
private education has very little to do with my love for football actually I
have my two years of Big Ten public education to thank for that audience
appreciation.
Cheerleading, now that’s another whole story.
Every cheerleader that I’ve ever made close personal friendships and long
lasting acquaintances with, have indeed been some of my only role models and
they make great poster art! The
world’s so beautiful and simple like that.
August 22, 2012
“The first two Prime Ministers whom I served, Ted
Heath and Margaret Thatcher drew strikingly different lessons from the Second
World War.” - Douglas Hurd
Happy Wednesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
First, where to begin. Really.
{A literary lesson on how to
think about literary structure in layout upon the basis of a thesis or
subject matter: (You can think all the
thoughts you want in the world however how does one think about structure
quite easily, frankly; a birth, a life and a death in the literary arch of life
and death in storytelling.)
Ultimately excellent writing doesn’t always rely on colloquialisms
unless…
Great writing doesn’t lose sight of
its compass, its friend; Excellence and authenticity in creation intrinsically
understands and can acknowledge there’s a moral lesson in kindness for all to
witness. Yes!
I love natural creation; it’s so authentic and cruel but not
overly paranoid in nature; she (nature) survives on oxygen, alone; (not really “alone” only as
something of a poetic metaphor).
Writers write, dancers dance, singers sing, weavers weave, people
speak because we aren’t apes, we, The Beloved Ones of our one common human race
in ancestry is made up of breath first, language next, writing follows and deep
philosophical innovative thought going into the 6th Earth
approaching this December 21, 2012.} Hip! Hip! Hooray!
No, this isn’t a re-birth.
This is a human-race birth!!!
Are you irritated yet? Nothing in nature is easy; why should a
human-race birth be any differently going into the 6th Earth? (You
understood those English words.)
Be anything
remarkable that you can become in civilized public excellence in conduct, if only at least be, amazed at being alive in such an era, such a
place upon Earth and such linguistic times in criticism; a fresh birth to
humans and a second birth to high reasoning. (Your actions are your sole
meaning in purpose in life from crossing the street to the food you eat.)
::: (You can say anything you want (you can shout it out from the
roof tops if need be) but when actions get violent then we’re back to ape
behavior in territory and that’s so top
drawer however the human intellect is cunning enough to drive others into
possibly committing murder because we’re that cruel as a race and that’s the
moral lesson in kindness (if facts die then so do we), the code of honor is to,
by all measures if possible to keep one’s enemies and communities alive,
because they, too, carry a human race DNA and together we’ll continue to thrive
and live here on Earth.) Are you happy now? I spelled it out for you. Moving
on.
Live, breathe rather than create destruction and violence which
most likely violence has better odds of becoming something deadly if not
detrimental for others’ safety and health while traveling in public.
Shame.
Why don’t humans want to live?
There. (That’s why I’ve been so mad about for so many years!!!)
Are you happy now? It’s spelled out for you.)
What’s wrong with The Humans? Can’t they see the beauty in life
also and as well?
I’d no other
choice (ha! you always have a choice) but to ask such a question
directly and I’m ready for any answer, however, having to ask the question as
adult women do is not only preposterous but also insulting in this day in age
when women witness other women’s babies getting killed by gang and otherwise gunshot
wounds and hit-and-runs on the streets of the Twin Cities! (I have many thoughts
on solutions about such civil disorder in disobedience.) Of course, you do, too.
What a beautiful and ugly world. What a murderous world.
(There, I had the courage to write those words.) How punk rock is that? No, I’m
not a punk rocker nor do I pretend to be one, however I’m a writer living in
these times witnessing queer public social discourse by the Americans and other
countries as well.
How remarkable to be witnesses on Earth today with our
intelligence as those angels (our ancestors in the 9th century who
lived and fought for our intellectual independence today).
Imagine what our
ancestors went through, because if you don’t know what gold is; information, then you don’t know where the party’s at (whether one
attends parties or not is beside the point). “Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”
Ha!
--- --- ---
I love that cinematic
colloquialism that I heard not saw in
a movie once and I’m still figuring out which film it is. Ha! I think I heard
such a colloquialism in 1996, maybe earlier I can’t remember exactly; I’ll
think about where I heard such an expression.
--- ---
---
I keep asking
people randomly after getting introduced and conversations become light and beautifully fluffy but
quite honest and respectful like cotton candy is sweet but you can’t eat too
much of it such as with Elizabeth Taylor’s characters are annoying and
multi-layered but the confusion in cunning communication is the extra fat with
the melodrama. (You understood that.) Yummy!
Over indulgence in sweetness can mean a lot of pounds to carry
around.
I like sweets but in small doses and I like sweets everyday if only one.
What a delicatessen. Thank you.
Sweet melodrama is somewhat boring and annoying to listen to
because it rapidly fills you to the brim, with
an intoxicating sickly sweet taste which can bring about
spiritual violent annoyance (as a metaphor) (in moral effect) (what a
colloquialism!). Sickly sweet is a
type of violence. No? Yes.
--- --- ---
If I muster up the courage
then I may ask something as silly as “ ‘ Do you mind if I ask an awkward
question?’”
People tend to shift their weight each and every time and I don’t
laugh at their discomfort because communication is so complex and vastly; I
hate doing communication with people even at the best of times; so much gets
lost in translation unless one understands the art of communication in
conversation no matter how long or short in the exchange, trade and relation.
If one party pretends to assume everything and nothing about the
other while in communication then all communication comes to a complete halt
from the one getting judged. That beautiful ship never even left harbor; it
never sailed the seas and it’s not going to.
Information’s golden to the humans because we abide by one code;
in keeping each other alive, peacefully co-habituating, co-existing without
endangering each other and putting each other at peril because words too can be
used to spar but not to kill because everybody knows that breath is life not
death.
If a blow is struck then game over! Go Home and stay there (not
literally). Thank you.
--- --- ---
(A quick note: My Father kept saying something to this effect for
years to paraphrase: (Allow for me to clear my throat). Okay.
“‘ You can say anything you want. You can scream and shout all day
long but the moment that another is struck then it’s all over because it’s
called physical assault.’”
“‘If you strike, then you strike in self defense and the rest who can ever really know,
there’re many sides to one story.’”
“‘By the point a blow has been struck then every party involved is
at fault to one extend or another; those who struck and those who got struck.
What actually happens in violence
will determine the facts of what took place. Discrepancies help find facts
about situations and that’s the moral lesson for today.’”
(Although people will try to drive others to lose their tempers
and possibly strike because others like to communicate through any type of violence.
Yes, it’s true some humans thrive in communicating through violence 24/7 and
that’s the greatest pathetic aspect of humanity.) Period.
“‘People sure are assholes.’” My Father said three times early last
Saturday morning as I held a thick piece of bread with butter and incredible
coffee on my lap while we debated about the plight and rudeness in human
behavior.
Civilized public rules and conduct exist so that when humans
(anybody) will get to space travel
we’ll need to be thoughtful about survival amongst the galaxy in the
Universe(s) (another blog for another day).
You really don’t believe that humans are the only species in the
Galaxy, do you?
Because I most
certainly don’t as an Indian and that may not mean much to you and remember this;
humanity can stay alive on word-of-mouth alone and do without writing while writing
understands the seriousness in the responsibility of record keeping: otherwise
a poser can put an entire universe at peril to the demise of our DNA and that’s
why one must become deeply philosophical, trust humanity to get themselves out
of this economical crises of homelessness, stealing finances and dipping into
the till because its putting the humans at peril.
--- ---
---
I
ask strangers in fluffy and respectful conversations: What’s the title to the
following film line: “Let’s blow this popsicle stand?” No one seems to know.
Maybe there isn’t movie with such a film line. No, don’t tell me. I’ll figure
it out. By now it’s more like a cinematic game. Cheers!
---
I stalled. I don’t have the words…to say what I meant to say.
Goodbye.
Gabriela
P.S. Yes, prayers are always with the living.
*) Neediness in strangers (of any type) sure
is awkward.
Americans are a beautiful, proud, honoring
and innovative people.
The Phoenix will rise again in the Sixth
Earth.
---
--- ---
*) it’s begun to thunder now and this is such
a cool spot to be sitting at while writing.
*) I was medically diagnosed with Carpal
Tunnel Syndrom on my right wrist yesterday afternoon from six years of contending
with severe pain like a woman. (Let’s get this straight; no, it’s not from
masturbation. A woman only wishes…)
*) Now, if you’ve ever been an athlete then
you know all too well about physical therapy and the extreme excellence in
following through with the therapy to heal the body.
*) I received a brace for my right hand and
oh, my! How wonderful! I feel almost no pain with the cast on and 600 mg of Ibuprofen
daily for three weeks, which I don’t even know what a milligram of anything is;
much less 600 of them. Ha! (I’ve got to look it up.)
I feel absolutely no pain with the cast on.
I’m to wear the cast all day and night long and report back to the Doc in three
weeks. Done. Absolutely yes!
I took the cast off last night before bed and
this morning when I woke up and immediately I felt pain. I don’t feel any
numbing nor pain in any of my fingers at all only in my wrist which swirls
around to the outer side of my right elbow and creeping into the lower crest of
my hand.
*) I had blood drawn because my Vitamin D
(6000 IU daily prescription; going into the 9th month) levels are
quite low for over a year now. I’ve fallen in love with non-smelling garlic
pills, B12, Vitamin D, Turmeric, Vitamin C, Milk Thistle and Omega 3. Are you
crazy? I love garlic, except not dipped in mouth saliva and cigarette smoke.
Yuck.
*) At 19 my Father told me to keep an eye on
my thyroid. Okay. I’ve lost eleven whopping pounds since May 2012 walking 20
miles a week most weeks this summer. I’ve gone through three pairs of Tennis
shoes and put holes on the bottoms of the shoes. Wow!
*) I still haven’t made a doc’s appointment
for the dermatologist since May 2012 which my primary physician referred.
I explained to my lovely lady Doc in as many
Indian terms as possible yesterday that as a child I was taught that hospitals
and medical facilities are places where the smell of death lingers and thus as
any Indian why would I want to visit any place of death? Uncomfortable.
Absolutely not! An Indian makes their way
back to their places of birth, their Madre-Tierra to die just as any Indian’s
blood isn’t removed from their bodies nor their organs. Period. Theological
reasons. I believe in some type of cremation or mummification. I don’t expect
the reader to understand any of this afterlife of the Indians. Nope. Most certainly
not.
*) I guess, that I grew another inch? Is that
even possible at the age of 35? I guess, I’m not middle aged after all. Ha!
Funny.
*) I now stand at five feet two and a half
inches.
How is that even possible?
For the past twenty years I’d been told that
I was five feet, one inches and a half at medical offices by countless of
nurses and medical staff, come this May 2012; I was told that I was five two.
Now, I’m five feet two inches and a half.
What. I’m almost three feet tall? How did
that happen? Eric says that it’s possible. We had to research it last night.
*) My eyes are on fire!
Water seems to cool them down and it doesn’t
help that I stare at a screen / monitor for about six to eight hours a day. What
the hell’s growing in the Twin Cities’ plant life.
I’ve had awful allergies since the Fall of
1996 and I’m so tired of allergies. I wish I’d grown up with a pet dog.
August 21, 2012
“Mirrors are often ugly and mean.” - (From
the Film “7 Faces of Dr. Lao”)
“You cannot have
maternal health without reproductive health. And reproductive health includes
contraception and family planning and access to legal, safe abortion.” - Hillary Clinton
“The issue is not
abortion. The issue is whether women can make up their own mind instead of some
right-wing pastor, some right-wing politician telling them what to do.” - Howard Dean
“The two hot
issues are the gay issue and the abortion issue. These are the two defining
issues in the evangelical community these days. I'm sure that these hot buttons
will be pushed, time and time again.” -
Tony Campolo
--- --- ---
P.S. As a female citizen, a woman, I reserve
the right and the privilege to write anything as subjective as it may be. I’m
not a professional role model, thus I haven’t given up my non-objective points
of views.
--- --- ---
No, absolutely not.
What. Shut up. If a woman is going to be
condescending to another woman about her quite personal decision to abort
especially if she’s been raped then abortion will be her prerogative until the
grave. By the rights of women she can decide to bring life into this world or
not. That’s her life given right when men rape women. Get off your high horses.
Stone age lovers. Please. Religion has nothing to do with human rights and
civil liberties…
I’m “pro-choice” Republican.
Happy Tuesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
[{Tranquillos…}]
Americans, take a deep breath and let’s
consider the steps to any dance.
Silence now.
[Follow the instructions given --listen,
please, so that we can all get into some type of civil union in unison and
formation like a marching band. Yes? Yes. (I know that translated). “Whooyah!”
(As a certain type of man likes to exclaim after surfing.)]
Random
thoughts about words:
{Now,
where were we?
::: The entire
bloody mess of chaotic literary poetics has more so to do with deliverance as
it does in setting up a structural layout with correct grammatical tone in
inclination to set a mood, time and place for the audience to understand the
written words otherwise it’s “patty cake” when it comes to “poetry readings”
(no, I’ve not participated in any “poetry slams” before because I wouldn’t know
what to say (I’d probably just stand there (staring at the audience) and leave
without so much as a word; what’s there to say when one loses one’s voice?
Nothing.) (Ha!) If anything at all. Ouch! (Did I spell that point out well
enough? How much fun is that to reiterate abstract and tangible thoughts? Not
very and the reader knows it more so than an audience listening to words rather
than reading words.) :::
(Another “dunk ball” for the Americans! I’m
writing and I take this task quite seriously; enough to contain laughter as
much as I can throughout the days. Really, maybe a little bit of nervous
laughter but what people discuss is most interesting in so far as linguistics
may be concerned.}
--- --- ---
(Oh,
yes stalling for no apparent reason…)
--- --- ---
[{:::
I’m sometimes a little bit “rude” by
Midwestern and (I guess) Californian standards (and I’m only going to say this
once; I’m quite old world Bostonian in my
demeanor and I mean to be: to test out the waters’ temperatures) while in public as the Europeans taught
me to be so in demeanor when a society gets too rude to handle; :as a Dońa, as a woman; she
may have all of the privileges to travel throughout the world on any given day
and it’s a woman’s prerogative (yes, those of our transvestite brothers and
sisters also because all humans have basic civil rights); Furthermore, to the
point: women may criticize anything in their path for the safety and betterment
of public civilized society and culture. ::: (Yes, that literary spacing is
meant to be in the above prose.)
::: She,
any, woman, doesn’t owe the culture
anything, a role model might but an
adult woman on her own who pays her taxes, doesn’t, not culturally; while
Native American and other women get beaten, raped and murdered on reservations,
in parks, at metro stops and in hotel rooms. Nope. I’ll go Captain America on the page. :::
Who is anyone to care about such injustices?
(Everything is indeed connected in a circle but the destruction and violence
against women and children is too much to bare to become a hypocrite in real
time).
--- --- ---
(I
could go “slam poetry” on the world (as any ski jumper gathers the cognitive
precision and courage to touch sky and get a little taste of soaring); I really
could go “slam poetry” and fly, but it requires a physical verbal-vocal voice
and I just don’t have one at this moment
(it got taken away) for a while thus no open mic but lots of cultural criticism
in exchange. Whoo-hoo!)
Quiet.
What a loving resource.
I could live in complete quiet, no, I didn’t
write the word solace.
Constructive
criticism means not being an ape in the face of injustice; we,
have frontal lobes so use them otherwise the Europeans can surely dig a dagger
through the heart when it comes to rudeness they’ll put anyone in their place
at any time and they mean to do so. Try disguised belligerence sometime. These
European folks have been around since before the “Battle of Hastings”. How
remarkable! They’re the real thing. They know how to do “rude” well. Yes!
I’m all about the frontal lobe.
The frontal lobe is such a rock star in any
progressive field.
When
a “civilized society” in any regional culture is continuously day-in-and-day
out racist, bigoted, discriminatory, disrespectful and cruel well, then a woman
has much to criticize and adore in public discourse about objects, things and
places but not about others unless she has something either yes, nice or respectful to say (and if not
then she’s whipped you into) an observation to be made into analysis; that
which is in front of her not because she isn’t Zen but because she’s giving you
her time to understand civilized culture and when one does get a lesson in real
rudeness then one knows how to be real and happy when need be to create a
balance in all aspects of Chi’.
Do
you think I like hearing the sound of my own voice in public (without making
poetry, I know the difference) making
observant sharp criticisms about the mediocrity of the world? Please. You must
be daft. Not likely. I’d much prefer the civilized sounds of…}]
The End of stalling!
--- --- ---
No, I couldn’t bring myself to write about
“street cameras” as far as the tech is concerned. I didn’t want to burst the
public’s bubble quite yet. Cheers.
Goodbye.
Gabriela
A whipping lesson in cultural mindful-thinking about one’s tangible
surrounding-world in “real time” not like in movie-time, you realize the
difference, right? Right.
P.S. A herd of Caucasian unsophisticated
animals just trumped through a business lobby corridor pretending that they
were entitled to the world. Yuck.
A beautiful looking Caucasian family with
little ones and young men in the family; walking behind a most loud screeching
high-voiced-annoying adult female Caucasian suburban ugly spoiled woman who, lead
the overly excitable herd away, thankfully; the entire familial herd took up
all the space in the world as their privileged race asserted itself.
You couldn’t help but feel sorry for what
ugly Americans they truly were even in their cool summer fashionable commercial
comfortable outfits that made them look more absurd in their atrocious conduct.
Those people couldn’t walk themselves
across a lobby in a sophisticated and fashionable manner. Pity.
The little ones ran out of an elevator and
straight for a set of double glass doors pretending that they were in a jungle
gym inside a small prestigious business lobby corridor in which they could’ve
run straight into and injured another human coming out of a Medical Clinic.
Sometimes, ugly American children exist
because their spoiled rotten parents are ugly. What’s wrong with the American
ego while in public?
How truly pedantic.
People sure are ordinary because they believe
they’re special and they think that the entire world owes them every breath of
life when in reality life can hand out death as quickly as it hands out breath
of life.
Why are Americans so dense about public
conduct in discourse?
Why don’t Americans realize that the reason
as to why other countries don’t come to our cultural aid is because we’re our
own worse cultural demise?
Americans hate themselves so much that
they’ve stopped learning class and sophistication after all these centuries
later and ignorance won’t get them real far.
Mediocrity won’t longer do and Caucasian
spoiled adults set their children back on opportunities and otherwise because really who wants to have a herd of
elephants trumping around in the White House or the Pentagon no matter how
successful a human? Nobody.
No matter how cute one may think them-selves
to be; a herd is a herd while in public and that may be cute for a while but
after some time the brute behavior does indeed become old and irritating.
If one is to meet such a human then one knows
everything there needs to be known
about them. One knows: to get real far away from them as quickly as possible
and don’t have your beautiful East
Coast young, educated and sophisticated women marry into such a Midwestern
facade, because the young women will become miserable with their
unsophisticated and brute “Pride and Prejudice” Mothers-In-Law.
Money isn’t everything, especially yuppie
money. Culture is everything. If one lacks sophisticated and classy culture
then there won’t be any doors opened to you because…
One realizes that they’re just as close to the gutter as their great and grandparent
pioneer ancestors were with the exception that their pioneering ancestors took
the word of God as something serious to abide by daily while the offspring of
the Midwestern pioneers walk around as if they have plastered shit in their
underwear from years of not washing and that’s what makes them so damn loud in
public places. Thank the Gods this isn’t deadly Cowboy and Indian country
anymore, or the loudest ones would be the first ones to go.
The pioneering ancestors dragged themselves
out of the mud so that their future offspring didn’t go around pretending as
though they owned the world rather to become of the world.
Nothing much falls far from a tree of life,
the problem is this: our pioneer ancestors lived harsh, desolate and difficult
lives while their offspring take their own lives for granted while placing
others in peril and that’s when you want to give them a good thrashing for
being so arrogantly belligerent as to forget their own histories.
They don’t know where they’ve come from and
thus they create great noise and destruction where they’re going while they
travel in the world, because the Caucasians seem so lonely; enough to invent
personal spotlights for themselves through their loudness.
You’d think that they have rocks in their heads. Have
the spoiled Caucasians gone insane? Wake up! Life’s calling you to notice and
not to place strangers in peril at all costs because the bottom dollar isn’t
the American dollar its human culture and human life. Get it through your thick
skulls. Loudness is crassness which in turn creates disharmony in all living
creation sending the world either into further chaos or unbalance. Nope. Back
to one.
Wash the plastered shit out of your
undergarments and walk like poised men and women of the world that, which, you
truly are spectacular, especially while in public and through conduct.
Are Americans brutes or aren’t they?
Relax. Look around. The world’s not looking at you. You’re looking at the world.
August 20, 2012
“Because
if you lived, as I did, several years under Nazi totalitarianism, and then 20
years in communist totalitarianism, you would certainly realize how precious
freedom is, and how easy it is to lose your freedom.” - Milos Forman
“Any
ballplayer that don't sign autographs for little kids ain't an American. He's a
communist.” - Rogers Hornsby
“And what does reward virtue? You think the communist commissar rewards virtue? You think a Hitler rewards virtue? You think, excuse me, if you'll pardon me, American presidents reward virtue? Do they choose their appointees on the basis of the virtue of the people appointed or on the basis of their political clout?” - Milton Friedman
“And
also they were absolutely brilliant in one way, you know: they knew how
effective is not to punish somebody who is guilty; what Communist Party members
could afford to do was mind-boggling: they could do practically anything they
wanted - steal, you know, lie, whatever. -
Milos Forman
“And at home in the United States we found continued and
increased persecution, first of leaders of the Communist Party, and then of all
honest anti-fascists.” - Paul Robeson
“Any pitcher who throws at a batter and deliberately
tries to hit him is a communist.” -
Alvin Dark
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!
Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.
Nevertheless, I don’t know where to begin a
writing lesson on the subject matter of what
are they called? Public Street Cameras? Police Cameras? Somebody’s Cameras?
Somebody’s paying for the cameras, right? Right. (An intelligent man once said
to me, “Follow the money. Where does the money lead? It’s got to go someplace.”
‘Hopefully the money goes into a till
someplace for the betterment of humanity’.)
Please, I can’t laugh that hard. Life’s too funny!
--- --- ---
Moose Lake’s business owners and Chamber of
Commerce didn’t want a McDonald’s and so they’ve kept it out for over thirty
years. Here! Here! To The People and their policies!
It’s The People who get to decide what
businesses The People want to see acquire permits and build and / or rent out
spaces upon civilian communities.
The People can keep anything they want out!!!
The point: The People get to decide about public
cameras or any other public resources because it’s The People’s currency.
If the police force and government; decide to so much as to “spy” or record
the identities of The People without their permission then something’s going to
hit the fan in court in front of a civil judge, because well, The People pay
the salaries of the police force, the military complex, the president and every
elected official.
It’s The People’s taxes that go into these
two effective branches of civil order; while The People continue to make the
sacrifice to starve for The United States of America. Period.
Shame. Shame for treating The People like
serfs. Shame.
The People don’t work for the military
complex or the government rather the government and the military complex work
for The People; the same goes for computers and technologies which they work
for the human complex not the other way around.
Bingo! The People won the lottery as it ought
to be!
Step aside, please.
The People have some grocery shopping to do
because it’s been a while since they put Thanksgiving together and said their
prayers. It’s time to pray for taxed-civilian-safety dollars, commonwealth for
all and civil security as well as well-mannered non-aggressive-ape behavior
from humans while partaking in everyday public civil union and safety.
Mean, corrupt politics and misleading
accounting as well as many welfare-collecting humans don’t pay our cops, city
officers, our military complex and government their salaries; We, The People do
(and don’t anybody forget it); while our American children, youth and young
adults get raped in churches and private homes, sold on Lake Street in the
sex-trafficking trade, turned to heroin (brought into the country by the
American C.I.A.). (Research it.)
Attend schools filled with asbestos, crumbling buildings, without heat in the
winter or cool means in the summers.
Please! Public Cameras; The People don’t have
anything to hide and we refuse to be afraid or paranoid.
We know our rights as any American citizen
does because our Founding Fathers beautifully wrote in our names for us to
uphold common laws no matter what a corrupt system became into a hierarchy, a
caste system or a pecking order.
We; The People love this piece of poetry
called The United States of American Constitution which abides by upholding
justice instead of oppression. Yes!
Street cameras in any American region must be
placed to a vote by The People in any city, state or region of this United
States of America for a country. I second that motion!
A memorandum; a question on any ballot would be quite
easy to do. “Should the taxpayers pay for public cameras bestowed upon to our
beloved cops and other safety official personnel upon the streets of this city
/ or / for the purpose of some type of safety measures? Yes? Or. No?
No and Yes.
I want my dollars to go towards education and
youth homelessness, first, any day of the week, any day.
Our kids, youth and young adults need
resources educationally and otherwise, while police forces
act-like-they-own-the-towns (N.Y.C. with body frisks; without “probable cause”,
no go, hands off the citizens) while the cops salaries come from the taxpayers.
Nope. It doesn’t work quite that way, does
it? It’s not good enough. It won’t do. It can’t do. Get it out of here,
little dog eating Fascist Commie Russians.
What’s this; if a police force instills
cameras upon the streets of any city without first asking the citizens to vote
upon such a motion then public safety is compromised because we now become former communist 1980’s
U.S.S.R. I know for a fact that my
Grandfathers fought in both WWI and WWII against the Totalitarian Communist
Fascists and the Nazis.
When did the United States of America become
a Fascist State in governing?
No wonder The People are irritated and
furious because they keep getting oppressed!
What a paranoid society.
What a mean little “democratic” Republic
system.
I want my due process! I want my due process! I want my due process! Ha!
I want my MTV! I want my MTV! I want my MTV! Ha!
I get the point made about public cameras but
never-ever forget that The American
People are innocent until beyond a reasonable doubt proven guilty. Yes? Yes!
Otherwise,
let The People know that our government has changed and we’re now enslaved,
because if that’s so then my tax dollars aren’t worth its value in currency and
in the words of capitalist Americans, the
bottom line is the dollar. Okay. Well, the bottom line is The American
People’s dollar. Get hip to it!
Be careful not to bite the hand that feeds
the system. How glorious!!!
The People have the ultimate and final say in
what happens about public cameras in their regions otherwise we’re back to the
cliché of George Orwell’s “Big Brother’s Watching.”
That cliché ought to piss off the American
citizens and civilians because they’re being given the middle finger for
minding their own business and trusting that the government and civil servants
[(cops and anyone voted into office is indeed salaried by The People)] are
doing well by The People, always.
Allow for me to burst your bubbles: The military complex and the cops belong to
The People; The People, neither belong to the military complex nor to the cops
or to the government for that matter.
If it were ever to come down to government vs. The People, by honor and by
the right of The People’s virtuous taxed dollars then the American military
complex and our civil servants (cops) must abide and side-on-the-side of The
American People because otherwise it’s just another private contract under the
table if I understood that right?
160 billion dollars of The American People’s
money was invested in building Afghanistan mosques by the side of dirt roads
while our American People starve and continue to do so. For pity sake. Please.
Who hates the beautiful Americans so much?
Don’t make me laugh too hard, because I could
snort out loud, but I won’t.
I’ll try to contain my loud laughing snorts
down to nothing while in public settings unless talking about curmudgeons in
conversation then well it’s free game because curmudgeons sure are funny human
fellows.
I love many crabby people for the novelty
sake not to be insecure about how they feel about the world and let the world
know that they’re indeed crabby at the status of the world today. Ha!
I keep my chin level even when a brute almost
killed us this morning with his fancy
vehicle.
The other driver cut us off downtown
Minneapolis and all I could do to control my laughter was to laugh because it
became a serious matter and thus I laughed hard at anyone so much as to be
willing to put others in tremendous peril even if they were driving an Audi.
What a poser. To drive a nice car but to almost hit another by cutting them off
when the street painted road signs read (through semiotics) that their lane
indicated for them to make a right hand turn at all costs or the bottom dollar
would’ve been human safety not dollars. What a disgrace.
The final word from a Judge ought to be; let
The People decide how to enforce law upon cities and innocent bystanders by and
through the means of a referendum. Yes, indeed.
What an archaic, medical, law enforcement and
governmental systems.
Back to the Feudalistic Dark Ages. Back to
one.
Start again with well-done communication for
starters between The People and Law Enforcement. When did the bridge of
communication collapse between community organizers, civil judges and law
enforcement?
If The People dictate to their City Councilors
and Representatives that they don’t wish for “police cameras” (as if) and / or for
a “Chick-Fil-A” (as if) upon their city streets then The People don’t have to
contend with such injustices against their cultural way of life while they
starve and sacrifice the money that ought to be in their fully fed stomachs; just because someone with money thinks
something as preposterous as for example: enforced cameras, because law enforcement says so (who’s
law enforcement to begin making decisions for The People? absolutely nobody.);
Or unlawful police action of frisking (as it is done in N.Y.C.) simply because The People aren’t taken
seriously, yet they are free to chose as they see fit for their communities
and their young while they pay for public safety, hopefully, peaceful culture,
even that of cops’ safety and the military complex to thrive by today’s
standards.
I keep being told stories that the streets of
Chicago were safer when the Mafia took care of The People being that much of
the Mafia were indeed idealistically morally Roman Catholics.
I don’t know. The Irish could tell you differently
about rapes in the Roman Catholic churches in America for the since the 1950’s.
I know what others know of their childhoods in Chicago and their safety; if
anyone so much as touched a kid while cycling around a city block then there
would be bloodshed.
Nowadays if our kids so much as leave their
houses, then who knows what strangers may do to them. Yes, the world is a safer
and a peaceful place overall today by historical standards but it’s not great
by contemporary standards.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
P.S. Jane Austen is spelled with an “e” as in
Austen. Thank you.
I get Jane’s last name confused every time as
I do with “Atlas”.
How can I have studied so much and know so
little? I’m still piecing Latin linguistics and Greek Philosophy together if I
even translated the stories, moral lessons and fables correctly.
*) Correction; the last time I heard 58
wounded in Aurora, Colorado.
*) We finally went and saw “Batman” in the
theatres. Wow! (I have two questions.)
*) Accidently I fell down the stairs on
Sunday while I was home alone and I must get back up on the horse.
*) I made a doc’s appointment today for
tomorrow knowing very well that I must go back under the knife. I hate this
pain in my body.
*) My Father said to me over and over again
to paraphrase; “‘ You can say anything you want to anyone. As a matter of fact
you can even shout it from the mountain tops, but as soon as physical contact
is made against another, then game over. Go home and stay there (not literally as an expression). Once
physical violence is introduced then it becomes physical assault and all forms
of any possible comprehensive and cognitive communication is shut down even
though people are conniving and manipulative.’” The End.
*) No, I’m not any type of punk nor do I
pretend to be one and that’s why I haven’t gotten my rear-end beaten into a
bloody pulp by the punks. Thank you very much!
*) Oh, we love Robin and Lou Paulsen so
much!!! Go Barnum Bombers!
August 18, 2012
Silence.
Happy Saturday!
Aloha.
No wonder I can’t bring myself to write about
Role Models, there may not be any left in the world today…
Allow for me to go New England East Coast
private school punk on CBS Morning News, Network News and “Pussy Riot” / “Poser
Riot”.
How dare you be such posers?
Wet poser pussy all over your faces!
I was taught to go punk on any poser through
my expensive East Coast private college education! Yes! Everything comes in
handy eventually!
How dare you make fun of The People?
The People ought to hate your guts for the
media sensationalism, pisser bandwagon and poser displays by misleading The
People into thinking one thing when the facts weren’t all in a row.
Do you know what happens when a poser is a
poser trying to pass off for the real thing?
A poser gets their asses beaten. No, really
(literally).
I hate your poser guts at this moment (poser haters): CBS Morning News may have
Charlie Rose on their side but they get information incorrect constantly and
that’s a point of irritation, unprofessional discourse and disgraceful
journalism no differently than the Pussy-Wet-Vagina-Riots who don’t even know
how to play instruments yet they call themselves a band. Losers.
What a nasty little wet dream (all of them)
and every other major Network’s journalistic system for kicking the guts out of
The People and misleading them into thinking lies.
Don’t believe anything in mainstream media.
Nope.
Don’t believe any of the Network News because
they like to create sensationalized news instead of reporting it. JUST THE
FACTS, thank you!!!
As any hardcore straightedge punk will tell
you, you ought to have shit flung at you.
No wonder Mr. President Putin hates the guts
of “Poser Riot” and so do the Russian people. (I know, I know. I’ve been
informed that the Russian people give a “rat’s ass” about “Poser Riot”.)
A wet dream gone wrong like going to bed with
what you thought was a woman only to
come to find out that the bastard has a dick. You’d want to beat his ass so
hard for giving you a middle finger along with a lie without knowing who you are
as an individual yet wanting to fuck you from behind.
Now, go explode your twats if you have any.
Ha!
The End.
I hate misinformation that leads to emotional
sensationalism.
I was quite tame on this blog entry.
I was going to write about your vaginas in
ways that you can scarcely imagine.
Gabriela
P.S. (You started it! The Networks gave out
bad information and now The People are giving you the middle finger for it.)
August 17, 2012
“Happiness always looks small while you hold
it in your hands, but let it go, and you learn at once how big and precious it
is.” - Maxim Gorky
“For every beauty there is an eye somewhere
to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love
there is a heart somewhere to receive it.” -
Ivan Panin
“Love the art in yourself, not yourself in
the art.” - Konstantin Stanislavsky
Happy Friday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
P.S. Goddamn it!!! I just found out that
“Pussy Riot” isn’t even a band at all. (I thought so.)
These Russian women aren’t even professional
artists. They don’t even play instruments. Posers. Are they a punk rock band or
not? Forget it, I lost interest. You had me at disrespect for the audience.
Moving on.
They’re lo-fi street performers (and we all
know what that means) with an activist kick done foolishly.
What did they think was going to happen? Piss
off!!
How misleading with all this free publicity.
You can almost consider them posers; however
someone in Russia takes them quite seriously while I stopped. The idiocy of
media coverage to make fun of, that, which is sacred to The People, their
religion and their sanctuary spaces is an affront to humanity more so than the
punk statement the women were making. Yikes.
Art is work while thrashing around is street
performance nothing more.
I’m pissed!!! I hate being made fun of as an
audience appreciator. Don’t make fun of your audience or they’ll hate your guts
no matter how noble the cause.
When others are posers; when so much is on the line for The People, then one ought to
expect a bloody nose at least once in a lifetime. Oh, I’m mad for being misled.
So mad! (Not, really just kidding, but really.) Goodbye. Case closed. Moving
on. Next.
It must suck to be made into media darlings
without any substance behind it!!!
(They don’t even play instruments. It can’t
be a band if one doesn’t play instruments.)
Call it, street performance art.
I still don’t think they should get any time
for being dumb.
--- --- ---
Where to begin?
I don’t really know what to write?
There’s so much that I’d like to say about
Role Models, but it sounds so cheese inside my head. I want to do the subject
matter of role models justice. I do. However and nevertheless I find myself
being humanly awkward and I could make immense mistakes thus I find that I
might as well continue to stall on such a subject matter as serious as this.
--- --- ---
Never mind… (Don’t cry wolf or we’ll stop
running to your aid.)
Pussy Riot: The all punk Russian female girl band.
Talk about courageous role models in the
world today.
These young Russian women are a bi-product of
their families; socio-cultural religiously tightly-wound Russian modern society
that isn’t keeping up with the contemporary world of pop culture, pop
philosophy; freedom of speech and pop-justice expression.
Now, our 1980’s American punks in the Midwest
(more so specifically) are indeed a bi-product of our Lutheran, Episcopalian,
and Russian Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Baptist and any other Caucasian religion
that preaches too much rather than teach by example.
Furthermore, our beautiful little 1980’s punks who are highly politico-intelligent
are taxpaying citizens and adults (now) who want and create drastic and
incredible change in the socio-politico science of America through their
fashion alone.
How cool are punk Mohawk hairdos? So cool,
but quite fashion intensive, that’s why I don’t sport one; too much time
consuming to do such a hairdo each day. I’ve been taught by 1980’s punks as to
how to create the most straight up and stiff Mohawk, eggs; is all that I’ve got
say. Cute.
Our strict and serious “Great Depression
Generation” and ignoring Baby Boomers
(of their parental responsibilities) created Ronald Regan’s American era punks.
No one else can take more responsibility for
the American punks than the Great Depression and Baby Boomers; that’s their
offspring legacy. Yep. Accept that fact of our historical punk Americana
culture. Artistic politico-punk’s here to stay and it’s been around since the
1980’s MTV era when music became a visual / auditory vehicle to dictate free thought,
artistic-revolution and great positive change against human oppression. Yes!
Margaret Thatcher has her little band of Brit
punks; whether Ms. Thatcher likes that legacy or not; there it is in front of her, to ever so fondly look upon her
National Brit family and love them equally because punks came from her spirit,
body and soul; her National Treasure;
and Brit parents contributed to that; One, can’t sever ties, unless one isn’t
capable nor willing to ask for forgiveness at the great injustices that occur
between humans.
The greatest injustice in the world is doing
something gravely wrong against another and not having the frontal lobe
strength, peaceful will and overall mindful goodness to ask for forgiveness
when in the wrong because one is cerebrally dense and somewhat ill in the head
filled with raging ego, quiet desperation
and outspoken belligerence. Yikes. No wonder cute little punks exist in a world
of so much resentment, oppression and lies.
What’s Putin thinking?
I mean, really?
Shall we get into the tiny little details and
discrepancies in the differences between freedom vs. enslavement,
cultural-revolution and artistic expression vs. stealing an election from the
mouths of The Russian People? Nope. Anybody? Okay because I could leave the
Russians, in the dust, in their bearskin undergarments any hour of the day as
far as this debater is concerned. Ha!
Now, to be free, mindfully-revolutionary and
professionally-artistic is difficult enough as it is but to be any two of those
qualities without getting into poser territory is extraordinary.
I find this
punk band “Pussy Riot” explosively spectacular as a socio-economical and
socio-cultural, theologically-contemporary Russian change however, I don’t like
their nonsensical music like any rant but
that’s beside the point when these women are creating justice and freedoms
for others who’ll come after them in the next
generation coming up in the world today.
(I wouldn’t put down a single ruble
for one of their albums because “the music isn’t quite music” (is it?). Nevertheless I find that “Pussy
Riot”; what they’re doing as a group of a cultural Russian sector of women is
socially-revolutionarily-remarkable.) Indeed. I applaud their efforts and I
support them one hundred percent because these women are that beautiful! So
beautiful are women when women are indeed thoughtful and contributing to their
communities and cultures at large!!!
What a great middle finger to a Russian
Orthodox Country, Church and State that can’t see beyond its own nose despite
it.
I find that people are spectacular and I find
that one has to be, not only, kind enough to think of others but also one must
keep the future in mind, because without a future of humans then well, we seize
to exist and apes and / or “aliens” (ha!) could eventually take over the
planet. (I don’t want to ever be a slave to the apes or to the “aliens”, after
what humans have done to the apes, most likely they’d be out for blood, revenge
and well, oppression.)
No, the Russians and Mr. Putin can’t be so
righteously indignant when they don’t
even consider these young and lovely skinny Caucasian women; The Daughters
of their country who are becoming the wise ones amongst the Motherland.
These “Pussy Riot” women are the Daughters
and Mothers of Russia. Get used to it because punk’s been here for twenty some
years and it’s not going anywhere. Punk is such a great mirror to the politico
and socio-economics of the greedy, mean and wayward politics and religion of
the time especially when it comes down to crazy radical separatists. Silly Rabbits!
Please, Mr.
Putin can’t pull the wool over the Russians’ eyes nor Americans since
we believe in freedom of speech and expression; yes, our American elections are
rigged as those in Russia are, as well, but by the one American God on the
dollar bill, we’re the offspring of the Founding
Fathers, damn it!!!
Americans know how to rebel against the
government because we’re the true Daughters and Sons of the original and
revolutionary Tea Partiers as our Founding Fathers wanted us to express
ourselves. Yes!!!
America was founded upon and on the basis of
politico and cultural-revolution against oppressive measures. Consider punks
the true blood, example and free spirit of the original Tea Partiers. Wow! That
apple didn’t fall far from the Founding Fathers’ tree. Relax everybody!
“Chillax!” Are you to tell me that you’re afraid of egg-white hairdos, are you?
I’m not. Please. It’s so beautiful in such a gritty sort of a way!
I may be tongue tied about what to write as
far as Role Models are concerned but I most certainly am not tongue tied about
the present history that these Russian daughters mark upon the soil of the
Earth today.
How remarkable that these young women care
enough to change the course of this beloved Russia. Hip! Hip! Hooray! How
wonderful. How beautiful for The Russians to have such gorgeous and outspoken women
who care what happens to an oppressive, mind enslaving and rude Russian
Orthodox Church, State and overall Culture that’s in need of a wakeup call.
Come on little ones! You can do it. Become open minded to the plights of the
human condition. Please.
Now, I don’t condone these young ladies’
actions of stepping inside the sacred and
holy space of a Russian Orthodox Church and protest dramatically as they
did.
Yes, there’s a time and a place to be a
respectful woman at all times however oppression is tricky, isn’t it?
Most certainly there’s a place and time for
everything, that’s why the video of such cultural activist misbehavior; looks,
well, goofy, funny and disrespectful yet powerful, beautifully weird and sassy!
I can understand that type of rebelliousness
by all means, but at the same time the world knows that it had to be done
at least once in the history of a Russian cultural activist rebellion.
Can I say Robert Mapplethorpe? Oh, how Mr.
Mapplethorpe bothers me so, yet I have so much respect for this incredibly
incredible artist and more so his art.
Finally, I was taught by professional
academics that artists may take a leek on
any religious crosses or symbols and call it a day as far as artistic
inspiration is concerned, if they so wish to do so; (I wouldn’t; but I was
taught that-that is any artists’
prerogatives as artists and by all means I mean to have that upheld by those
who feel strongly enough about creating that type of shock value in cultural
revolution, (because I don’t consider it art), however I do think, that, rebelliousness must be done on one’s own time and
space not upon the sacred and well guarded theological praying spaces of others
who don’t grant permission for such alternative form of expression forced upon
those whose theological sanctuaries mean everything to those who practice
serious religious doctrines. Period.
I’m asking a Mr. Putin, the Russian President
(I guess) as our contemporary peer,
to chuck it up to youthfulness, female expression and modern artistic intuition
done in poor taste on the side of these young Russian women to express
themselves publically but by no means in any pedantic manner.
I ask the Russian people to support their
beautiful women and their beautiful incredibly talented social-politico cultural
activists who are testing-out boundaries. The Russian people ought to stand up
and defend these young women, because TWO years in jail for a cultural
misdemeanor sounds like craziness. Yes? Yes.
I still don’t believe they ought to finish
out a two year sentence for being young and dumb.
Peace and love to “Pussy Riot”.
The Americans stand behind you all the way
while you live out an artistic lifestyle in an archaic and structurally
crumbling country, no matter how many millionaires per capita. We believe in
Russia! We believe in Russia! We believe in the goodness of the Russian people
no matter how bitter their Grandmothers may still be about… the war.
Love. Peace. Love. Peace. (This still stands
but I’m not happy!)
Gabriela
P.S. I would donate to “Pussy Riot’s”
socio-politico activist cause but I wouldn’t buy an album.
*) Grammatical corrections were indeed made.
Yikes, my English!
*) Oh, that
Bill Maher sure is remarkable (for those of you who won’t know in the year
7012, Mr. Bill Maher is a mass media important man who says many funny and
intelligent things that aren’t socially acceptable about politics). Ha!
We decided not to go out to The Hunger Games
social events tonight and instead rushed home at 8:00 P.M. and laughed so hard
along to Live-time-Maher. (Thank you!)
I still don’t know what the Colbert Report
is.
We’re grateful as a divided Republican and
Democratic household that the Bill Maher show on HBO exists. Hip! Hip! Hooray!
The People (like us) thank Mr. Maher even if the President’s social secretary
is out back having a fag on the White Lawn (Just kidding). Ha!
Peace. Really, lots of peace; The People hurt
in this country; laughter is what The People need more than another beating
with a whip. No, really. The struggles of everyday Americans are impeccable,
tragic and difficult for many of them. We’re so grateful to be “middle-middle
class” Americans not “lower-middle-class” Americans. What a world we live in!
August 16, 2012
“Peace
is liberty in tranquility.” - Marcus Tullius
Cicero
“Power to the peaceful!” - Michael Franti
“It has become
impossible to give up the enterprise of disarmament without abandoning the
whole great adventure of building up a collective peace system.” - Arthur Henderson
“We want to take good tidings home to our
people, that they may sleep in peace.” - Black Kettle
“Nonviolence is the first article of my faith.
It is also the last article of my creed.” - Mahatma Gandhi
Happy Thursday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
No, nope.
Please step back.
Please, for the love of the Gods take one
comfortable step back, take a deep breath and stop doing that painful violent
action of stepping on women’s dainty little feet (no matter what the size).
Please. Otherwise, women will dance by
themselves and blow you away.
Have you ever seen a woman fully dressed
dancing by her-self (without
masturbating) in an empty room to her headset when she’s mad as the dickens?
(She’ll bring about a dust storm we soon won’t forget the dust bowl and the
great depression.) Why? (Because she’s mad as hell about the lie that she was
told about professionalism in her industry while injustices are made and everyone’s racing to the top for status, salaries and positions, instead of
taking a more scenic route in approach to humanity, community, financials and
frontal lobe technologies.) How boring: the arrogance in violence that stems
from empty, shallow and somewhat fearful competition of each other. Yikes. (Those crazy Indians!) (Those crazy
“Whites”!) Ha! Much Love!!!
When a woman gets that mad
she’s ghastly like an angel and will blow you out of the water through currents
without making a single wave (like a whale can spit one out) because she’s not
there to create violence she’s there to witness an incredible event in history,
those who create from nothing through and by the means of frontal lobe
technologies (Ha! I reiterated that again. How
much fun is that? Not much. Chuck it up to a lesson on linguistics.)
When a woman is that frustrated with her
surroundings, environment and those who are tired and frustrated folks who hold
one-mind tracks about success, then she’s had it with the violence and she’s
teaching those who are witnesses (if they dare so much as to be so) then at the
center of all that violence and desperate social-economic-class / system in the
form of chaos and needs; she, too, can create beauty because it’s any woman’s
prerogative to express herself through beauty no matter how mad she may get
while causing ugliness in the environment. (Gosh, why are humans so dense in the head when we’re so smart,
capable, loving and beautiful?) Humans! (No Gods could pay me enough to come
back here and be human, again. I love
being a human, but I hate the human condition and plight.)
I think that if I had another life (which I
don’t theologically speaking) then I’d like to be a talking mule (ha!) like
that little character in that one movie. So cute.) I like mules. What difficult
lives mules might lead amongst humans who think them only one sided.
I’ve
made great friendships with some non-human-language speaking mules and other
animals over the years and throughout my travels. Could you imagine if suddenly
any mule busted out in German? I’d fall over!!! I wouldn’t know what to say or
do. Talk about the shock value. Get over it and then ask the little one; “ ‘Wie hast du sprechen lernen in einer menschlichen Zunge Deutsch? Sagt mir doch ein wenig?’ ” Ha! “ ‘How did you learn to speak German in a
human tongue? Pray tell me little one?’ ”
No, seriously you can make friends with
animals any where you go, I refuse to feed them or have them touch me. No. No.
No. No. Mules are indeed stubborn as hell but sweet to the core of their souls
and that’s worth “friends’ loyalty”.
How remarkable is the creation of science,
mathematics and beauty combined?
When a woman gets that mad; she’s telling
anyone so much as any jerk to peek in and watch her dance out her frustrations,
anger and creating passive-aggressive environmental hazards such as dust, sand
and debris, well, then, she means to say “Oh, Piss Off!” Lovely. Moving on.
Those Brits! Ha!
She understands all too well that others take
their liberties too comfortably to believe and think that stepping on some
else’s toes while working together in unison to create harmonious steps; isn’t mindful enough of community; and
continues to give her the middle finger while one learns a single count.
It’s not any woman’s fault if a man doesn’t
know the steps to a dance, the same with
her; it isn’t her fault if she’s still learning a one-count.
That one count sure is a pain to contend with in music: every
other complexity is quickly and well understood such as philosophical poetry.
(You understood that!) The complexities aren’t difficult to follow it’s the
structure and the basics on which everything is built upon that’s the most
difficult at times.
---
The Mexicanos have told me (to paraphrase); when the world gets a little weird; go ahead and turn up your car stereo as loud
as you’d like and feel the reverberation. The music grounds you and pisses
everyone off because they know this is an imperfect world and nothing much
grounds us except beauty, tranquility and kindness through tough lessons
learned. Yes.
Yes, the ugly and the beautiful. (Ha! Isn’t
there a soap-opera with a title like that? Hilarious!)
--- --- ---
I’m stalling hardcore.
Let’s see what else I can write about without
so-much-as-one-word about Role Models.
--- --- ---
Eric and I are still married. Ha!
Oh, we had a wicked fight this morning.
We yelled, we eventually cried together and
I, for the first time in my life threw a toothpaste container at the floor (and
the action didn’t make me feel any better thus I shan’t do it again).
At the corner of the bathroom far away from
Eric, standing on the other side of the bathroom doorway, I threw the
toothpaste container and I should’ve busted out laughing, we, should have; but
it was serious sparing of two willful souls and no, no physical violence simply
a great huge disagreement about miscommunication as a man and as a woman as a
loving husband and as a loving wife. I
was so mad. I wasn’t aiming for Eric, never;
Eric knows that all, too, well. I was aiming at the wall and it was all too
obvious to any adult. Eric picked up the toothpaste container and set it down
gently on a countertop. I was ever so grateful for his kind gesture in part.
What a Gentleman!
I’m tired of disagreeing to be human.
Imagine a scorpion male and a bull female
sparing. Ghastly.
We think we’re not harming each other because when we step up to spar --we, then,
meet one another in the middle of great disagreement. Its serious business and
I mean serious.
I don’t like conflict of any type and I’ll defuse it as quickly as I possibly
can by all of the intellectual tools granted to me by making myself submissive
as an Alpha but sometimes sparing with the one you’re married to who happens to
be another Alpha, is just that, great sparring no matter what is said, voices
are raised and tempers are brought up to boiling temperatures.
Words are words.
Now, actions are serious with intent to
physically bring about a consequence so we keep hands off unless we’re
respectful of each other, then we’re loving no exceptions when it comes to
touching.
At the end of our fight all we could do was
to go back to bed and hold each other for half an hour then back to warrior
life once we took one step off our property.
The fight isn’t about money.
The fight is about miscommunication.
Eric talks to me all the time about many
interesting aspects of life, but he simply won’t tell me his burdens, worries
and frustrations, much less his physical injuries therefore, I’m not allowed to
decide how I can contribute in helping Eric carry a heavy load as he then can’t
help me carry mine either because I won’t let him in, if he won’t let me in.
We’re quite stubborn with tremendous love for each other.
No, this fight doesn’t mean divorce.
I’m so ready to get on a plane and find a
quiet beach to work. (No, I’m not romantically searching for bed mates or
one-night stands. I simply feel that I need to be completely alone on a
deserted desert or island for a while.) I don’t have a crush on anyone else but
Eric however I do like to “gawk” at people as I was taught to do so by Los
Mexicanos. Thank you! (We’re monkeys? No? Yes.)
I don’t tell Eric neither my negatives nor
physical injuries either because I don’t want to worry Eric and he won’t tell
me his because he doesn’t want to worry me. What a dumb conundrum.
We love each other tremendously. No, we’re
not romantically involved with others. We don’t go around having sex or sexual
relations and encounters with others. We want each other and only each other,
thus we fight because we keep ourselves from really knowing each other.
I married Eric because I could play with Eric
until the day we die. He’s an awesome playmate, friend, lover and man.
My heavy load, embarrassments and
disappointments are these. Forget the money. Forget the sacrifices made and
forget the disappointment. I’m a woman and as with all women we, too, can rise
above such emotions and get over anything with time.
I’m mad as hell that in our marriage we have
substantial school-credit-card debt from Eric’s previous sixteen year marriage
when his former wife went back to school.
I’m mad that Eric and his previous wife
incurred so much debt that our household is on a budget; no not our businesses,
but again that money isn’t ours. The money belongs to the individual companies
because the companies are individuals aren’t they? Correct.
I’m mad as hell that Eric has high blood
pressure and hypertension. I’m mad and I’m mad for one simple reason, I find it
unfair (So what? The world’s not fair, right? Right.).
I find it unfair that I’m Eric’s second
monogamous wife and I’m having to contend with a former sixteen year old
marriage financial ruin as well as, that Eric and his former wife didn’t eat
well, didn’t finance well and weren’t mindful enough about creating harmony
thus I create chaos (when something’s off with Eric yet he refuses to talk
about how he’s feeling in physical pain then I pick a fight to get him to come
out with it because we both hate conflict to the maximum): The miscommunication
injustice is too oppressive between us. Lovely. Development. (Eric says not to give him too much credit about being
intelligent; Sometimes, I feel that he ought to know better about
expressing himself especially when it comes to physical pain. I’m his partner!
I want to know if he’s hurting and if he is then I can possibly help.) Goofy!
Eric says that he was diagnosed with high
blood pressure at the age of twenty-four and that he married the first time at
the ripe age of twenty eight. My beef is this: then why didn’t Eric and his
former wife do everything in their power to be healthier? I’m astounded. I’m
beside myself. I’m mad and I have all the right in the world to be so and to
get over it. I will as I always do. However, whether Eric likes it or not; it’s
Native American black wild rice, sweet corn, veggies, fruits, organic ice cream
and the such.
Eric hates organics with a passion and we
just don’t see eye to eye as to where to shop and for what types of products.
It’s been such a struggle between us for six years. I refuse to shop at “that
place” because I don’t think that employees are treated all that well, and to
Eric it’s convenient, fast and inexpensive while to me it’s people’s
livelihoods, lifestyles and health on the line. We’re so different! Ah! The
same argument over and over again makes me want to get on a plane and leave for
24 hours.
Eric’s not a broken man by any stretch of the imagination but he
won’t let me in because he told me that he’s embarrassed about the financial destruction that was created in his
previous marriage. So what! I’m somewhat embarrassed about mine in my twenties,
coming from the great-great-granddaughter of a family who owned fleets and
vessels and governed the fishing Industry of America at the turn of the 18th
century.
Look at me, will you? It’s a lovely sight to
see. I’m still washing dishes by hand, cooking our meals and I’m happy and
smiling as a little Costa Rican sloth does. So what!!! Moving on.
Six years later into our marriage and well,
we’re still not collecting $200 every time we pass “Go” on the Monopoly board.
That was my favorite aspect of playing Monopoly, not so anymore, the game has
changed. (Remember, when a player would pass “Go” and collect $200.00? That was
so sweet!)
Anyway, we do beautifully, but we must
continue to chisel away at this debt that creates a great deal of embarrassment
for Eric and disappointment in me. We must chisel away at the rock until we
create one magnificent sculpture out of this awkward marble. Although, I do prefer
bronze metal. (My hair is so fried from welding! No matter how expensive or
inexpensive a product, no go-- My hair is in dire need to grow out.)
We must rise above this mental oppression
because Eric just let me know this morning that his back’s been hurting him.
I could sense uneasiness in Eric for the past
two weeks, but he won’t tell me nor make a doctor’s appointment until I make a
doctor’s appointment for my sinuses and like hell if I’m ever going to go to a
doctor unless I’m in dying distress and discomfort.
So, here we are these two incredibly amazing,
for the most part happy and loving,
responsible and caring adults with the best health insurance in the world and
we refuse to get adjusted and looked at mainly due out of stubbornness for the
other. Ah, what a world!
Eric reminded me this morning that he’s not
so young anymore and that he, too, will die and I burst into tears.
I couldn’t bare that thought. Eric said to
me, “See, that’s why I don’t say anything because I know that it hurts you.” Okay, we can talk about anything but let’s
not get so morbid. I hate the thought of Eric dying because he's my best
buddy and as he told me this morning, "I’m not as young as you are. You
know that.” I cried some more. What’s a girl
to do?
Night time is approaching quickly and I can’t
wait to be with, play and relax in the company of my beloved Eric.
--- --- ---
(No, I can’t seem to bring myself to write
about Role Models.)
With love,
Gabriela
P.S. Eric gave me the blessing to write about
anything I wanted about our relationship early this morning. Thank goodness.
P.S. Today, I took to listening to the band
“Queen” quite loudly while driving in the car earlier in the day and I smiled
at the thought of all those beautiful Mexicanos.
*) I like loud music not so much for the
reason of the loudness, more so for the reverberation. How sweet is that? I can
feel my heartbeat inside my reverberating soul. I love music. I love music but
I can’t keep a bloody count as of yet.
No, I’m not learning music. I took music
theory and composition as well as terribly tried to play several instruments. I
know how music is composed and written out on paper with scales and notes like
a whispered poem and I know the power of music. I can compose music that I hear
inside my soul. I simply don’t seem to have that one bloody count down. Bloody
‘ell!!! When I get that count down, I want to compose music. Period. The End.
Words are so misunderstood. Don’t talk to me
about my birth mother, linguistics, writing, Mayan theology and music unless
you really know what you’re talking about otherwise, it’s a waste of time for
all of us. Questions are always fine, but conversation is another whole ball
park and realm of art.
*) What
I can’t seem to understand is the logistic as to how someone can break the
rules to music if they don’t even know the rules. I’m paying close attention to
people when they speak… I know, what,
I know, and, I know, what, I’m
talking about. What are “we” talking about? Really,
one can break the rules to music without knowing the rules? Remarkable. I
didn’t know that?
No, absolutely not! It won’t do. It’s not
logical enough for me to concede to such a point in debate, either one knows
the rules to creating beauty or one doesn’t, simple as that. Either one is
making love or one isn’t. Right? Right.
*) Eric surprised me last night and told me
that he didn’t throw out one bin (each) of the LP’s and the comics. I was so
overjoyed! Thank you, my love. Incredible! Thank you. I almost shed one tear. I
was so thankful for such great news!!! Hip! Hip! Hooray to our one bin of
records and comics! Yes! Solid. Rock star! Sweet! Awesome! Goodbye.
August 15, 2012
“If they knew what we had done, they'd have chased us down the street and
hanged us." - George H.W. Bush
Happy Wednesday!
Aloha.
Wow, the days are going by fast. (I’m thinking faster than I can type.)
Shall we dance?
How about a little tribal music for today? Let’s get the heart pumping. Yes?
Yes.
--- --- ---
Where to begin?
I ought to plunge into Lake Superior
someplace in Michigan: (right? The geography is correct, I think?); (perhaps: someday). I want to travel by car, Amtrak or
rail; more so than by plane.
I’ve travelled by bird most of the past
twenty-five years (no matter how broke) I saved up money by and by, quit jobs
and left for travelling adventures of the respectful but quite-lost-and-safe
tourist variety. (Every region that
I’ve ever travelled by foot, bike, animal, engine or otherwise, canoeing and /
or hiking/in, autobus over mountainous landslides; people have been decent and
human to help out tourists with directions; not because tourists are helpless,
but because they’re smart enough to communicate appropriately about directions;
not their entire life-stories.) (That
made sense. I know it did.) I’m translating as fast as I can before the sun goes down on me, after that I
want to relax with…
--- --- ---
Are you crazy?
Why wouldn’t one, want to travel especially
when one is young? (I figured early
on that my body could handle traveling much more effortlessly and fluidly
around the joints through any terrain or landscape more so than as I get
older.) Cheers!
I thank my body everyday for being so strong and healthy even though
100% tobacco cigarettes are as they are (Decent.) What a lovely addiction,
those 100% tobacco cigarettes but awful unhealthy. Yes? Yes.
I find my health fortunate not to have a
cough, whizzing or any other lung-illness of any type. I’m fortunate as of now
and hopefully in the long run. I thank the Gods. As an Indian life and 100%
tobacco are; indeed, linked hand-in-hand, spiritually, at least through and by
the means of fire; without fire and smoke life and human DNA perish to exist.
About smoking 100% sacred tobacco: No, I’m
not into injecting, snorting, pumping and / or anything other than inhaling
100% tobacco smoke and by all means
indulge in heroin and bath salts but good luck to what it’s going to do to you;
I’ve been informed by professionals and experts that heroin comes into our
United States of America;
[(Let
me see if I’ve got this right…)
The C.I.A. Yes? Yes. I guess.
Heroin brought into the United States of
America by the C.I.A. is no differently done for large profits as the Muslims
who create warehouse-labs for bath salts in Florida, specifically. Who knew
that hardcore drugs were brought into the country by the powers that be?
Incredible! I had no idea. What a funny world. I guess, you learn something new
every day?
I don’t know. I’m not an expert on this
subject matter. I only write about what I’ve heard. Thank you. I’m not trying
to create waves. I’m simply scribing for the sake of history. Much respect and
love to all.
I don’t judge it as you would. I have many
ideas about why this happens. And possible, I also have simple and probably
silly solutions and insight about how to find profits for our Nation that’s
become so strict about drugs, but alas there it is, this country needs money
and lots of it: (another blog for another day).
Anyway, the
point made was this: that some of
the powers that be in Washington profit large from heroin distribution, because
the citizens are too broke to contribute anymore in taxes than they already do,
when the average middle-class citizens make around twenty thousand per year per
household of four. A household of four!!! What.)] Tragic, but I can’t help and
laugh each and every time I hear this middle class financial statistic. How can
I not laugh? That’s ridiculous. What
happened? (Please, don’t answer that, it’s meant to be rhetorical.)
--- --- ---
What does the topography of the Western
United States of America look like by land? It must be magnificent,
breathtakingly beautiful and spectacular.
I sometimes, feel, like, a smart tourist in
Minneapolis, Minnesota, the Midwest, and now as I head west to the Ocean, (I
come in peace) as I want to see the western half of the United States of
America with my very own two eyes.
I’m feeling a little cowardly… (No, not really: only as an expression).
My Indian Mecca is Wounded Knee and “Crazy
Horse”. (I know, I know. I’ve put if off for twenty-five years and nine
months.) Yikes, 2012 is flying by!!!
I know nothing about what the middle section
of the United States looks like except for flying into Los Angeles for film
work. Gosh, I love Los Angeles.
Terribly, urban concrete, though; I didn’t
see myself living in L.A.
Funny little town, that, “Tinsel Town”! (Did
I get that “” correct? I think I did.) Ha! (I know, I know. Wink. Wink.) I like
the little palm trees in the middle of neighborhoods. Funny, no? Yes? I like
those trees, the best, in the topography and layout of some neighborhoods. It
looks funny but cute.
L.A. people tell me to get to Vegas, but
that, too, has a lot of Native American history. (I get shy; no, not “girly”
shy, simply I want to see what the entire hoopla’s all about without being
judged too much as a safe and smart tourist.) Ha! On my own good time. I didn’t gamble in Atlantic City thus I don’t
think I’d gamble in Vegas. I wonder what the food is like. I wonder. It must be
amazing food like ship cruises are. (I’m losing the light of day to write out
here amongst the mosquitoes.)
--- --- ---
I find myself a tourist in the Twin Cities.
I’d never in my life gotten lost around the U
of M campus until today. I’ve not ever driven through the U of M campus before.
How lovely but very confusing! Oh, those detours.
I saw the…? The? I don’t recollect the
corporate name. Some stadium or other. Cheers!
I may have two weeks here and there of
vacation after my initial European Holiday from mostly the months of March
through May as of the past five years. I like taking breaks and looking around.
I’m human. Although; I concentrate when I drive because it’s serious business.
Period.
No, it’s not that weird, I’m not on any type of time schedule to cut
films, live, socialize and anything other. My time is my own. I just like to be
organized and disciplined to work, play and live.
Heck, if we weren’t working we’d be… There’re
so many amazing environments and people all around. I really like Minnesota in
the region of the United States of America, but I also really like…
I feel like a tourist in the Twin Cities. (I
know, I know I’ve already stated this before.)
I’ve been a taxpaying citizen since 2004 to
Uptown and I’m just getting to know this town.
The Twin Cities are not like Bean town,
N.Y.C, Chicago, L.A., and San Antonio and so on and so forth at all. Weird.
I’ve gotten lost more so in the past three
weeks than I have in the past eight years. Wonderful. I’m smiling through rush
traffic even if it’s what it is. Cheers! No, I don’t text while driving, but I
do from time to time take and make calls. It’s the natural order of life to
want the luxury to communicate instantly by and by.
--- --- ---
Seriously, thank the Gods we don’t play the
lottery. Why would we? Do you know the odds however I like seeing the
excitement in the people at playing at a numbers’ game that is more chance than
luck or both. Who knows? I like the
structure of games but I most certainly don’t like to gamble (another blog for
another day). Maybe, someday before I get too old I’ll buy a “lotto ticket”
when I cross the border into Wisconsin, but like that’s ever happens. Life gets too busy.
--- --- ---
Yes, I’m stalling hardcore. It’s like the
basketball player who realizes that it comes down to the wire and that’s that;
sometimes the winning team, winning by a low margin will stall towards the end
of an important game to ensure that a basket isn’t made by the other teams so
that the risks aren’t detrimental in the winning of that game and it’s played
out as a dribbler will go slowly or quickly while traveling down a basketball
court (you understood that, you’ve watched basketball. Yes? Yes.)
I’m sorry but I was once again too “chicken shit” to
write about the subject matter of role models. I’m too shy. What else is there
to say? Nothing.
Role Models:
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. Cheers. I’ve almost lost the light. I
thought I’d take more tourist pictures with my cell phone on this fine August
2012 dusk, but it just doesn’t look like it’s going to happen.
*) Global Warming. It’s all about
sub-freezing temps. You know that right? Right. (Another blog for another day.)
*) I haven’t seen the Afghanistan Olympian
women run their races. I look forward to setting time aside to watch reels
from…
*) People sure are doing incredible things in
the world.
*) To our Missouri family who just got back
from Haiti, we welcome you back into The United States of America. We’re so
glad you’re safe. We love you. Travelling is a big deal to any community
anytime our beloved citizens and their loved ones travel anywhere, anywhere at
any time.
*) Prayers are with the living.
August 14, 2012
“By 1973, John Kerry had already accused American soldiers of committing
war crimes in Vietnam, thrown someone else's medals to the ground in an
anti-war demonstration, and married his first heiress.” - Ann Coulter
“When an American
heiress wants to buy a man, she at once crosses the Atlantic. The only really
materialistic people I have ever met have been Europeans.” - Mary McCarthy
“The
Romanovs are overtaken by the Indian Maharajahs as American heiresses pick over
the carcasses of fallen Empire.”
- Suzy Menkes
“All heiresses are beautiful” -
John Dryden
Happy Tuesday!
Happy Alfred Hitchcock’s birthday yesterday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
Many grammatical corrections have been made.
Literary Disclaimer: I’m always
paraphrasing; because as English as a Second Language I get the following
wrong almost every time: ‘in’, ‘on’,
‘for’, ‘about’, ‘to’, ‘by’, ‘of’, ‘from’, ‘and’, ‘but’; I’m sorry but this is truly a linguistic handicap for me.
I can quote people by verbatim but I can’t
always make out if it’s properly and correctly ‘in’ or ‘on’ ‘to’ or ‘of’. Chuck
it up to a tremendous learning curve. I get embarrassed to say the least yet I
must forge forth with my literary difficulties. Thank the Gods for notes!!!
Notes! Notes! Notes! Tedious but necessary!
--- --- ---
Anyway, I have so many thoughts, but I’ve
once more been left completely and utterly speechless.
(I’ll come back to this: I’ve other
responsibilities calling me this morning at 7:41 A.M. Cheers!)
Role Models: I’m almost timid to begin
writing about “Role Models” in general but more so specifically through
examples. I don’t know where to begin…?
I couldn’t bring myself to write about Role
Models. Cheers.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
P.S. One of my Finn Elders implicitly trusts
her cleaning personnel in Kettle River and so do I. I’ve met this tremendously
hardworking woman, shared food, gone to church with her and her beautiful
daughters and family.
I, too, believe that she makes a tremendous
contribution to her community. She’s about the only cleaning personnel I’d
allow into our home and not have a worry in the world because she’s truly a
lovely woman who cares what happens to others.
I’ve fallen in complete trust and respect of
this woman who changes others through her quiet demeanor, cookies and honesty.
She’s the real thing! Hip! Hip! Hooray to J!
--- --- ---
*) What? Why? I don’t get it? What is there
not to love about people dressing up in period costumes and dancing long into
the nights upon tremendous settings, surroundings and well mannered company in
peace?
--- --- ---
*) Forgive
them for they seem not to understand multiple meanings in linguistic
implications. (I’m going to write about dressing up in general.)
--- --- ---
*) Okay so what about it? Nothing, I guess.
--- --- ---
*) I ought to quit stalling.
The heart of the matter is this:
People’s religious beliefs are essential to their spiritual, emotional and
overall mental health in moderation towards their sole survival as are hobbies
without infringing upon the peace of others through destruction,
marginalization or dehumanization (I think I got that right). People want to
believe in a God or Gods.
There must be something beyond our race, our control, our intelligence {towards the afterlife if indeed there’s one
for all religions and theological beliefs (to-each-their-own). For example, I’ll have to make my way
through the trials and tribulations of “Xibalba”. That means a lot more
reading, learning, of the different houses to pass through with life and death
challenging tests, if I survive them.} Period.
--- --- ---
*) My favorite Holiday here in the United
States of America is called “Halloween”.
Are you kidding me?
I love the Halloween Festivities, the hairdos
and the dress up.
No, I’m not of that religious sector.
Now, I don’t dress up for Halloween because
it infringes upon my spiritual theological points of view, beliefs and
thoughts.
Would I ever like a little Fascist dictate to others to never-ever-ever dress up
again? Absolutely not!
Why?
Who am I to tell another how they may dress
up or not: This is my beef: Dressing
up to purposely exchange currency for a community event that may or may not
break even while the participants blindly compete in a running race without the
theological knowledge of the dead. Well, then? What do you expect from an
Indian? Indignant written words of oppression. (Ha! Now, that’s funny!)
What’s not funny to me is this: athletic Native American mascots of any
type (another blog for another day) (while I control myself from swearing.) I
will.
I’ll do this Native American athletic mascot
subject matter justice and bring the oppression down to its knees if need be or
at least to manly tears because the Native American history made me shed tears
along tall grasses.
I was ethnically taught to sob if need be for
the injustices of humans by manly men warriors when the pain is no longer
tolerable. Go, ahead heave your guts out
and get the negative spirits, negative force and destruction out of your body,
mind and soul.
Okay.
Why not?
I’ll have you pick up the tears right off the page as I did when I
found dead mutilated animals at Danvers State Hospital while on a film shoot
(twelve years ago; Gods how the years go by so).
I didn’t give a damn as to who heard me or if
I ruined the audio, (consider it a gift to a film in the genre of a
psychological thriller at an abandoned mental state hospital (asylum) from the
turn of the last century.) No, really. The Hospital used to exist. The bat
winged shaped structure no longer stands. (Great.)
(Humanity is sometimes sick, ill in the brain, no, really): (Have you
ever seen any organism cut in half?) Not
even so much as an insect? (That can’t be a noble death to that organism.)
(I used to leave (with permission) biology
classes and sit out in the hallways and day dream; I refused to participate in
classes as an Indian; (and, I should’ve thinking back on it now); because when
I first saw mutilated animals that late afternoon in the fall of 2000, I choose
to sob loudly rather than become ill. I refused to have the sight of those
animals bring me to my knees, so I sat down and sobbed as loudly as humanity
would allow me to; (privately, and out in the open). Then it was over.)
Wonderful. Moving on.
I gave humanity the middle finger for acting
out so violently ugly by murderously mutilating life.) (Ah, those crazy Indians.) (Ah,
those crazy Whites.) Ha! Ha! Ha! (I’m laughing so hard in public by myself,
thank the Gods I’m looking at a laptop then I look Kosher rather than weird
laughing at my own thoughts!) HA!
Now, do as you please at your own risk about
dressing up in other’s theological understanding of stolen life and death. Zombies! Ha! Ha! Ha! (Tongue in cheek, I
get it!) Funny, but weird, no? Yes. Why
for exchange of currency dress up like other’s spiritual guidance to stay away
from the underworld?
You see, theology is so complex.
I don’t judge, I’m just saying.
It’s about cultural tactfulness.
Simply.
Knowledge makes us smarter in the long run.
Not only that but also the greatest aspect of
knowing what one is doing
conscientiously is something to take great pride in and to lift one’s chin
level to the ground. (That made sense. I know it did.) Pride cometh before the fall (Christians have taught me that).
--- --- ---
*) Is there anything else to address: Oh,
yes! Now, I’m paraphrasing myself because I’m too lazy to go look for an
earlier quote from about a month ago, that I used in another blog. (Ha! Now,
that’s funny!)
Okay, so the quote went something like this:
“ ‘ ‘ don’t trust Whites, they’re all evil.’ ’ ” (I’m “making up” the quotation
structure (“”) because I don’t know how an author writes quotations for
paraphrasing a previous quote of their own. (I’ll have to look it up; I may
have just broken some serious literary rule about how to quote a quote and / or
re-using quotes: I know one is not to re-use one’s previous writing quotes, but I’m trying to make a point here.
Anyway, the “misquotation” is being done
purposely.
Moving on: The point is this: The young woman
who said this to me is also a Caucasian as white as rice paper.
I heed her warning but I also didn’t share
her same sentiments. I love many Caucasians as brothers and sisters and I will
continue to do so until the day we pass away. I love people who’ve changed me
in loving and positive ways. Thank you.
I did, however, find it a bit odd that she, a
Caucasian, didn’t seem to trust her clan of “White” Detroit folks. Come on!
Detroit! Detroit’s young thirty-something lovely Caucasian women are waiting
for you to grow up.
These Detroit women would make for amazing
spiritual, intellectual and loving wives. What did Detroit do to the “X
Generation” of amazing skinny beautiful Caucasian women? Wake Up! Wake up! Wake
up! Detroit. Your sisters, your lovers are calling you by name in the wind. Ha!
Poetry wants to jump right onto the page!
--- --- ---
*) Yes, I’ve been taught many times the
difference between “unto” and “onto”. I can never remember which is which. I need to find a way to remember these two
differences. (It’s all the same to me, no, really, it is.)
--- --- ---
*) Colloquialisms. Ah! Frustrating but
hilarious once I get them! SO funny! Folksy.
--- --- ---
*) Yes, there’s nothing like getting on the
horn with heiresses. It’s hilarious, calming, wonderful, a luxury in relaxed
communication and tranquillo. They know how to do communication right. The
luxury of well delivered and human friendly communication is like honey on the
tip of one’s tongue: that’s why I’ve liked inviting them to film sets where
people sure are weird and sometimes mean and not Indian at all. Heiresses’ insight is like no other when others abuse and take advantage of
a situation; because heiresses have already been one’s best friends since teenage-hood
(childhood) to the heart and soul of many matters without ever exchanging
currency, taking advantage of and fully understanding the heritages and
cultures of the other without ridicule, mockery or force. Thank you. I can
breathe inside the middle of that type of communication without too much
effort, that, which, I understand well. No, heiresses aren’t spoiled brats. Spoiled brats are people who pretend to
be wealthy and mock everything in their path but don’t understand the meaning
of working for an earnest dollar with
brow-sweat nor much less know how to... (Yes, my private social peers and
equals are heiresses and heirs as of the past eighteen years. No, my social
peers aren’t socialites, entertainers or anyone trying to get their face
noticed on the Tele (as if). I wrote heiresses
and heirs. And no, we don’t
exchange currency or money, thus we are equal peers till the grave because we
were set on that path early on as youngsters by our family histories. We trust
each other implicitly till death do us part. We’re each other’s siblings.)
--- --- ---
*) Last but not least. Here goes nothing.
Right? Right.
I call Eric, “money bags” when he gets
stressed out about money, because; well, as middle class citizens, as we are,
we can afford what we want: we do quite well with our currency over a long
period of time.
Now, neither are we broke nor poor, however
money conversations, discussions and the such have been our greatest stressor
in our relationship, simply because I’m meticulous, keep budgets for everything
down to the penny and want to discuss what to do with each penny all the time,
while Eric hates talking about money at all. I can respect that. I get tired of hearing myself talk about money
with him, also. It was easier when I was single and only I controlled what to
do with my money, but it’s now our money together.
So, as of this morning I handed the reins
back over to Eric and he’s taking care of everything, financially. We’re going
to finally open up a joint household bank account and get debit cards for the
first time in six years, ever in our relationship and marriage.
Eric will take care of all of the finances,
and, I mean, all of the finances for
the next few years while I’ll get out of the stone age and join the rest of the
world with on-line banking instead of keeping books and ledgers because it’s a
source of conflict in our relationship and tedious, which is making
conversations boring to say the least.
“I give two-rats-asses,” (you taught me that expression) about currency yet I
have a great deal of respect for money. Indeed, I do.
I simply really
do get into figuring out where every penny goes and how far it can be
stretched. It’s not necessary but I do like doing that type of accounting
because I was taught to do so by millionaires.
I’m not poor or broke and neither is Eric.
We’re going to do his financial approach of
all on-line banking. Yes, we have accountants, but we’re talking about
week-to-week household finances and operations that are the most difficult for
both of us as a duet. Financially, it isn’t the big stuff that’s causing
strife, it’s the day-to-day stuff that has become the most difficult for us to
do together. Weird.
We’ve simply become neurotic about counting
pennies because I have a tendency to ‘knead’ currency to perfection and ready
for baking pies. I like working with figures, sometimes “crunching numbers” within certain budgets mainly to play
with doe. The freedom of currency: is to know your numbers and what budgets to
work with. Right? Right. Eric doesn’t give a damn.
--- --- ---
I’ve been a little resentful at Eric, because
he wanted to throw everything and I mean everything away before we moved. I
couldn’t bare it! It took us six years to get really comfortable furniture and
other things. I couldn’t believe he wanted to throw it all away. See, we’re so
different.
Eric threw out bins of LP’s and comics and I
was beside myself at him when he told me after the fact in public at a record
store. Lucky for him we weren’t at home or I would’ve demanded for him to give
me one good reason as to why he did that.
How could he do that to me? Ha! He didn’t even ask me if I wanted them.
Ah! 20 years of a collection, gone. Eric thinks LP’s are old and probably dumb,
while I’m beginning to learn American music he threw out the best of the
1960’s, 1970’s and 1980’s on records.
Ah! I was left speechless. I wanted those
records more than anything else at that flat before we moved out since I listen
to music on a record player. Now, I’ve got to start the collection all over
again.
I couldn’t believe it! We’re so-so-so
different. He did it behind my back (he told me so) so that I wouldn’t ask him
to go get the records out of the garbage bin. If I would’ve known then I
would’ve climbed into the dumpster and retrieved such treasures, myself. He
threw out the Ramones on LP. Oh,
it’ll take me a while to get over this.
--- --- ---
I like the meticulousness of numbers and
record keeping, and such. I’m good at it. I enjoy it.
When Eric gets stressed out about me talking
about stretching pennies, he says this to me; “We can’t afford it.” (As if.)
(Like hell.)
What!
Not acceptable.
It won’t do.
It can’t do.
It’s not good enough.
I know how much money there’s in many
different bank accounts and it’s always above, in the black. Nice! There’s
money, but there’s not-enough time to do everything we want and so we get
irritated with each other because it’s not about money it’s about not having
enough time with each other. What a dumb conundrum to have for middle class
successful working American adults.
We have different accounts for
short-and-long-term-goals: accounts for personal, professional and household,
travel, separate business and company accounts, net-worth, stocks, bonds,
savings, land and properties-and-the-such.
We’re finally going to stop driving each
other nutty about the small household budgets that I create weekly and plunge
right into trusting each other with each other’s money. Wow! Huge step in any
marriage. Since Eric does on-line banking he’s going to take the lead on this
one and get us away from ledger paper.
My personal bills incur a grand total of a
whopping $120.00 a month.
That’s how little debt I have and when we
bought the house three weeks ago I found out that I’ve got an impeccable credit
score. Yes! Every month I go to the bank and place $120.00 into a checking
account and pay my bills by checkbook. This drives Eric nutty, He hates it. I
know, I know. Archaic.
I like running around like a kid with cash in
my pocket for the day and if I happen to be someplace and want to spend it all
then I spend it, hopefully, in regard to environmental economics, local
neighborhoods.
I like to place currency on any countertop,
anywhere I’m at in the world.
I love getting to the end of an evening, if out and about in public with about
$12.00 left in my pocket and spend it frivolously on something, anything. Like
one inexpensive drink and leave the rest as a tip.
I work hard for our money so I know where it
comes from; from the sweat of my brow
and Eric’s. Where else? I’m a woman and I take care of myself everywhere I go.
I don’t ever feel like it’s the duty of anyone to purchase anything for me. Why
would I? Please.
Although, I do miss Boston for that reason.
Sometimes, it’s nice to be treated by complete strangers. Try it sometime.
Sometime, simply treat another stranger for the sake of doing so without them
knowing it’s you. It’s sweet. It’s powerful. It’s an aphrodisiac.
It will cause a woman to get turned on and aroused. Why wouldn’t it? No, she
won’t get turned on by the currency, silly!
She’ll get turned on by
the good will and the power behind the effort and the kindness in gesture
unless she’s rude and a snotty bitch well, then, nothing. Women make less money
than men, that’s a fact. Try not only to treat drop dead gorgeous women, but
more so the real women of life. Putting a smile on a pretty girl who isn’t a starving fashion model
is priceless and they actually eat and drink what you send over. I’ve seen
those smiles on women and its drop dead gorgeous on them. Real women are
magnificent.
I’m going to sit back like a proper modern
wife and let Eric run the show for a while because the world’s passing me by
with electronic banking systems. Plus, all of the paper’s got to go! If I need
money, then all I have to do is ask Eric for money and that ought to be
interestingly sexy in some submissive way. (This system of currency may not
work at all, who knows?)
I’ve been told that finances and sex are
linked quite closely to each other in relationships. Why not? This will be
interesting reversing to the era of my Grandmother and I trust Eric to do well
by me.
Eric isn’t the type of man who’d leave me in
the gutter, penniless and homeless, thus I’m going to trust him to run all of
our finances.
Furthermore, he’ll have to trust me that when I ask for money, I’m not
asking for permission to spend money. I’m literally asking him to open up our
accounts and deliver me the resources that I need as needed. Wonderful!
Wow! I don’t know what to say about marriage
and finances, except that this is going to be interesting for both of us. I
don’t mind. I trust Eric implicitly. I like being an ‘old fashion’ woman.
I can always
find money, if worse came to worse:
I’ll not be poor again, broke, maybe, but not poor; because that’s the way
Snake-bull-zodiacs roll.
Eric is such a quiet hot headed Scorpio. Oh,
do they have a nasty dangerous poison when they’re trapped inside a shoe, don’t
they, though? Make sure you shake out your shoes well while at tropical
beaches. Don’t step on a scorpion no matter how fuzzy, warm and cuddly they are
for rabbits on that zodiac. (I love the zodiac, its mind candy. I don’t take it
too seriously. Ha! Here we go!)
How does a modern woman even begin asking a
modern husband for money?
I’ll be a little shy at first, I’m sure. I have a sock and chocolate
habit Eric doesn’t know about and I like to buy 100% tobacco cigarettes from
time-to-time while I’m not pregnant and we have no children. No, I refuse to
smoke as a parent because my parents didn’t smoke cigarettes; no matter how
much they wanted to have a fag by and by. Are you kidding me? My parents grew
up in the Hippie era. Don’t give me that look. Like I don’t know.
--- --- ---
Thoughts:
*) I want my ATM! I want my ATM! I want my
ATM! Ha!
I want my MTV! I want my MTV! I want my MTV!
Ha!
Kettle River really needs an ATM. I’m tired
of driving 18 (correction from “16” to “19” miles back and forth from Kettle
River at the farm to Moose Lake just to get cash out. I hate running out of
cash when we haven’t used up all if our entire daily spending budget but when
we do have cash on hand then we spend whatever currency is in our pockets.
We’re proud Americans to contribute any which way we can.
Duluth got expensive, in some ways, more than the Twin Cities. Lame. The People can’t
afford some of those prices. Shame. Tourist town. Instead; of a community town.
You want a new chapter? I’ve got a million chapters I could write and new ones,
too. I love Duluth. I hate its dichotomy.
August 13, 2012
“I love you more
than my own skin.” - Frida Kahlo
“I tried to drown
my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by
this decent and good feeling.” - Frida Kahlo
“I paint my own
reality. The only thing I know is that I paint because I need to, and I paint
whatever passes through my head without any other consideration.” - Frida Kahlo
“I leave you my
portrait so that you will have my presence all the days and nights that I am
away from you.” -
Frida Kahlo
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
No, I’m not Frida Kahlo.
I refuse to be like Frida Kahlo only because others don’t know enough about other Latina artists.
Why would I want to go out of my way to live like this tragic historical
figure? No, thank you. I’m too lazy for melodrama and I like chocolate way too
much to turn into a tragic figure.
It’s only been Caucasian people who’ve ever told me over and over again that I remind them
of Frida Kahlo. No, I don’t! I think people say this because Kahlo’s the only
woman of color and an artist that people know of with black hair and brown
eyes. Tragic, really!
::: Nevertheless, I’ve also been told by
close personal friends that I remind them of the fictitious (correction: from
“factitious” as in factual to “fictitious” as in made up) character (female
counterpart, his sister) Mr. Darcy in Jane Austin’s novel Pride and Prejudice. Great! (Facetiously.) “You’re so sweet.”
“You’re so kind.” “You’re so nice.” They tell me and then I really do feel as
irked as Mr. Darcy does looking at all this plight. :::
No, I’ve not once wanted to be in the likes
of; Frida Kahlo nor Mr. Darcy or his younger sister Georgiana ever since I
wrote an academic paper about Frida Kahlo’s life and work in 1995 and presented
it to a class full of my academic peers. (No, they weren’t my social peers then
nor are most of them now).
I like Frida Kahlo as a one dimensional
character amongst the pages of history books but that’s about it. Her
melodramatic, disastrous and difficult life leaves much, too, much to be
desired.
--- --- ---
Here goes nothing.
I’ll quit stalling.
No, today’s blog entry isn’t “chick lit”
because frankly I don’t even want to write about the following subject matter
much less am I lighthearted and fluffy, however. I do feel compelled and as
though I must force myself to write in order to save the lives of other
American women.
Ready!
I hate Women’s Health in America.
Liars! Liars! Liars!
Why do the Americans hate their women so
much?
Why are women secondary in the world to men?
--- --- ---
In
November of 2011 I was truly and fully diagnosed with Uterine Fibroids (we’re
all adults here).
Uterine Fibroids are non-cancerous tumors
from smooth muscle tissue, nonetheless the pain is unbearable. The pain is a
type of pain that I thought I was dying from and if not then I wished for
someone to have been able to put me out of my misery.
After the diagnosis; two weeks later, I found
myself on a surgical table having a 1.6 million dollar da Vinci surgical
procedure done (thank the Gods for being able to afford the best health
insurance in the world, finally).
No, I didn’t have a Hysterectomy.
I had a Myomectomy.
I’ll be able to have as many children as we
want only Caesarean style.
Now, for sixteen long and arduous years I’d
been misdiagnosed by almost every
nurse and doctor I’d ever, had the courage to make an appointment to see.
I was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel
Syndrome. (As if.) Liars! I was diagnosed with herpes, (which the tests have
always come back negative). (As if.) Liars! I was diagnosed with miscarriages.
(As if.) Liars!
Do you know what those particular diagnosis
do to the psyche of a human more so a woman’s psyche? It turns a woman into
salt every time, if she keeps looking back. Ha!
This is the kicker, because I was misdiagnosed for sixteen
years; my stomach pain became more severe with each passing year as the healthy
fibroids grew and took up space squeezing all of my intestines and vital
organs. I thought I was dying. No, really I did! Mind you, I was only on
painkillers for three months out of the sixteen years. I’m such a rock star to
withstand incredible amounts of pain.
Not only was I in severe pain, but my body tricked itself into believing
that it was pregnant for sixteen continuous years. (Bastards for medical
experts!)
Why has women’s health been on the backburner
for so long?
Nine months after the surgery, the last thing
I want to be, is, to be pregnant.
I’d like to get pregnant at forty and not one
day before that.
I have five years to live out a magnificent
life in which my body doesn’t trick itself into believing it’s pregnant without
any tangible results. I’m tired of my body living in a constant and perpetual
state of pregnancy.
Thus I refuse to get pregnant anytime soon. I
want children I just don’t want to be pregnant after sixteen years of such a
health ordeal and hell. Nothing would piss me off more than getting pregnant anytime
soon. No, really it would. I might seriously consider an abortion if I were to
get pregnant at this stage in the game. I’m tired of feeling pregnant. I
could’ve had fourteen children by now.
Let’s keep it real, folks!
For your information: Uterine Fibroids are
hereditary.
For your information: A woman will miscarry
each and every time she has Uterine Fibroids because there’s no room in the
uterus for the fetus to develop.
(A
miscarriage is one of the saddest forms of death any woman will ever have to
endeavor because dead-life passes through a woman’s body as she’s watching it
happen in front of her very own eyes while she’s passing and pulling out fetus
tissue from her body.) Women sure are remarkable!!! It makes me think that I
need to get ambitious about terminology and go back to school to become a
medical doctor of women’s health.
[I’d hemorrhaged by myself a grand
total of five times thinking that these hemorrhaging sessions were miscarriages
when in reality they were horrible menstruations gone completely wrong. (Again,
if one isn’t having sex then it’s impossible to have miscarriages).
I’m here to tell you that straight forward
hemorrhaging is nothing like a miscarriage.
I
now know the major difference!!! So different!!!
The
first time I hemorrhaged by myself I was nineteen years old and no, I hadn’t
had sexual intercourse up until then. (I was twenty-one the first time I had
sexual intercourse in my life to my first Fiancé who went clinically diagnosed
bi-polar on me at that time, 1998). Great! Fantastic!
I held all the power in that relationship
once I found out that I wasn’t the crazy one after seven years of mental and
emotional abuse and torture by repeatedly being told and accused by this man
that I was crazy. People sure are assholes! Not to mention that he cheated on
me with every Duluth slut and whore from church weekend retreats.
No wonder I didn’t want to sleep with him.
The one time that we ever did have sexual intercourse I strapped on a condom.
(I love female condoms.) I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him so
rather than marrying this crazy individual I threw him as far as I could.]
I’ve been told that I’ve only been pregnant
once in my entire life and that, it was in the year 2010 when I miscarried at
Disney World on our first wedding anniversary. I thought I had been hit in the
heart by a silver bullet, thank the Gods I’m not a werewolf and didn’t die from
such a mighty blow (another blog for another day).
On the day I went into surgery I had three
Uterine Fibroids the sizes of the following; a grapefruit, an apple and an
apricot. Imagine that pushing against your internal organs?
“You had an entire fruit basket in your
uterus!” Exclaimed my amazing male friend over the wire that I’ve known since I
was twelve and love him as my older surrogate brother. Oh, what an amazing
human he’s turned out to be.
Furthermore, as I got closer to surgery I was
informed, “Don’t laugh, at all, if possible, or the Uterine Fibroids can and
will rupture and you’ll bleed to death.”
I was mortified!
I was mortified!
I was mortified!
What did they mean no laughter?
Up to that point, laughter, had been the only
aspect of life that had kept me going.
Laughter had saved my life for sixteen years.
The doctors put me on serious painkillers and
frankly what a disappointment because painkillers did very little to help the
gut wrenching pain. I felt as though I needed a shot of morphine in the head as
bad as I needed… Believe me, painkillers are wimps. How can the field of
chemistry, science and medicinal culture be so archaic? The Natives have better
plant-based pain-medicines than the mega-pharmaceuticals.
Anyway, I woke up from surgery and all I
could think was this: I’m tired of mean
people in my life. I want more sweetness. More realness and more kindness. Sarcasm isn’t for me. Bitterness isn’t for
me either. I’m not bitter. I’m happy.
I was amazed to come out of surgery with more
pain than I had ever had in my entire existence. I thought I was dying all over
again.
I woke up and realized that I was lucky to be
me; to greatly care for and be cared by so many dearly and deeply amazing
people who’ve known me since 1987, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92…1998, 1999, and 2000.
--- --- ---
The people who know me well have known the
very real struggles that I’ve had to hurl over and the unrelenting happiness to
get up in the mornings and get ready for a full day of life. I love being
alive, I just don’t like being human sometimes.
They also know that I love deeply and will go
to the ends of the Earth for them.
They know that because I starved as a child
and wore the same dirty clothes for two or three years in a row that I can
barely see others in need and pain and thus I allowed myself to be taken
advantage (no longer my lot in life) in my twenties because I hate the
suffering of others.
I woke up from that surgical table and I had
never before in my life realized that
I was as those who had mirrored me told
me that I was. Beautiful.
I’ve been told by my beloved ones that I put
on a tough facade so as to appear to have a tough shell, but when others make
the time and have the will of kindness to get through that tough outer shell
then they come to find a sweetness inside. Ha! That’s funny!
“You’re like Mr. Darcy on the outside but his
sister Georgiana ‘in’ the inside.” (Correction” from “on” to “in” {I get them
confused all the time}.) I had to laugh so hard I snorted with happiness
because I had survived going under the
knife or the da Vinci (robotic arms).
“If I ever hear anyone call you a ‘bitch’,
then I know that they don’t know you. And I definitely know that they’ve never
been loved by you.” She looked up at me with her weeping willow blue eyes and I
loved her even more so than I had ever done before as my surrogate sister of
eighteen years.
Thank you to those who’ve kept it real all
these years.
I’m so happy to be alive even if I’m
misunderstood greatly as an intrinsically sweet human and an outer shell for a
harsh critic of the human species while on paper.
(You
wouldn’t want to meet me under the serious business of communication,
conversation, dialogue and interaction because I’d leave you wanting for more. To Oneself be true and I know who I am. I’m
a…) (He, he, and he) HA!
I come in peace, friend or foe.
I don’t believe in violence.
I’m a pacifist.
I don’t believe in shallowness, two-faced
cruelty or insincerity.
Love and Peace.
Gabriela
P.S. So, I can have babies, I don’t have
herpes and I didn’t have random miscarriages. How lovely is that!!! Life sure
is weird. The Gods have indeed been watching out for me in the middle of my
trials and tribulations towards a journey to complete calm.
P.S. Oh, how I about those lovely and
gorgeous Olympians!
*) Oh, Iran!
August 10, 2012
Happy Friday!
Aloha.
According to Dr. Ron Paul, (paraphrasing) why
is Congress and the military bombing bridges and rebuilding them in Afghanistan
while our bridges here in America are in ruins? What gives? Who hates the
Americans so much?
Cheers!
Gabriela
August 9, 2012
Happy Thursday!
Aloha.
How’s that Beltway fever?
Cheers.
Gabriela
August 8, 2012
“The
gentle reader will never, never know what a consummate ass he can become until
he goes abroad. I speak now, of course, in the supposition that the gentle
reader has not been abroad, and therefore is not already a consummate ass. If
the case be otherwise, I beg his pardon and extend to him the cordial hand of
fellowship and call him brother. I shall always delight to meet an ass after my
own heart when I have finished my travels.” - Mark Twain
“All too often
arrogance accompanies strength, and we must never assume that justice is on the
side of the strong. The use of power must always be accompanied by moral
choice.” -
Theodore Bikel
“Arrogance,
pedantry, and dogmatism; the occupational diseases of those who spend their
lives directing the intellects of the young.” - Henry Siedel Canby
Happy Wednesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
What’s there to say?
I don’t know what to tell you.
I was left speechless.
Minneapolis is a city in which everything and I mean everything gets back to companies and
the owners of companies, good or bad talk.
There’s a media group of advertising little
dog eaters in town going around film shoots badmouthing one particular
outstanding broadcasting company that’s been around for over 30 years in town
(watch your step). Yikes.
The moment I hear a representative from any company badmouthing another company
then I have qualms with the uncouth business personnel, their gossip and lack
of business skills first and foremost. Need
I say more? Nope.
One, the main reasons as to why I love some Millennials dearly is because they’re
genuinely innovative with these new sciences, mathematics and technologies, but
I wouldn’t want to hire most to run FCC broadcast standard High Definition
because well, frankly, they don’t even
know what time code is, much less setting up time code at the top of the
minute on a blacked out tape for broadcast standard spots and what if one needs
to regenerate time code, what then?
Ha! Frustrating!
There’s no worse poser than a highflyer who
doesn’t know the basics of their industry.
Two, no
one and I mean no one (hardly, no one) uses 1080p. Why do
ignorant producers still call for the necessity to set up spots as 1080
progressive?
Most Television stations go by 1080i (interlaced).
Mastering on 1080p when most everyone uses
1080i is a waste of time and money. Get it through your thick skulls. 1080p is
a waste of MONEY and more importantly lots of valuable production TIME!
Three, don’t get me started about “Safe Title” because
obviously that’s gone out the window in the world of highflying posers.
Does anyone know how to “Safe Title” anymore
especially for High Definition? Please, tell me some geeky and awesome guy or
gal knows how to do this essential step in today’s broadcast standards.
Anybody? No? Okay. Moving on.
What are engineering and production schools,
universities and colleges teaching our young arrogant producers, directors and
technological personnel in general? Nothing. Ouch!
Four, don’t get me started about standard
broadcasting spot “Audio Levels”.
Does anyone know how to do standard
broadcasting “Audio Levels” anymore? Anybody?
Audio levels ought to be kept from -10 to 0.
Period. End of discussion. [Just do it!
Ha! No, blasting the audience out of their seats just because one’s highflying
advertising agency doesn’t know how to engineer for broadcast standards which
will soon be illegal. Please. Ah, broadcast engineering sets the boys apart
from the men when it comes to High Definition digital video production.]
Five, don’t get me started about the “Waveform”
and “Vector-scope”.
Does anyone know how to do standard
broadcasting High Definition color modulation anymore?
Now, colors ought to be between 7.5 and 100%
or the colors tend to bleed and we wouldn’t want that especially with the
whites getting into the audio channels.
If you don’t know how to set up color for broadcast standard engineering then
don’t touch the spots or millions of dollars go to waste instantaneously. The
multi-million dollar spots become trash. Let’s
stick to professionalism. Professionals aren’t lazy about broadcast standards.
Thank you.
Six, there’s no reason for some foolish and show
off for an advertising producer to go sit at a post house broadcast engineering
studio with a screenplay in hand because it’s just bad taste in general and it
comes across as desperate. Leave the screenplays for after hours or on the
weekends. On the weekends one can play screenwriter some place other than an engineering
booth. No, seriously. Thank you.
Seven, why do shadows catch the edge of Television
screens when either a camera operator (floor director) or some other tech staff
doesn’t seem to frame the camera properly for HD, enough to cover such a
blunder 101.
Eight, using video tape is better than keeping
files digitally. It’s cheaper, more reliable and lasts longer. (I’ll explain
tape later. I have many valid points about the crappiness of digital files and
extensions.)
Finally, I was taught by some of the best in the
world to do this post house broadcast standard engineering and you wouldn’t
know it but so much money is wasted by non-mathematical and far less
technically inclined minds.
One must be more than simply interested in climbing
ladders.
One must be passionate about the craft, the
skill and the fine art in the performance of one’s field no matter how
painstakingly the work may be. Otherwise, one becomes a time waster of others
in the industry, and, does and can cost their companies, if not, hundreds of
thousands than millions of dollars in this industry.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
August 7, 2012
“Everyone's a
pacifist between wars. It's like being a vegetarian between meals.” - Colman McCarthy
“From pacifist to terrorist, each person
condemns violence - and then adds one cherished case in which it may be
justified.” -
Gloria Steinem
“I am a pacifist.” -
Fred Schneider
“I am not only a pacifist but a militant
pacifist. I am willing to fight for peace. Nothing will end war unless the
people themselves refuse to go to war.” - Albert Einstein
Happy Tuesday!
Aloha.
Happy National Night Out!
(We can’t wait to formally meet some of our neighbors in our neighborhood in which
not only do we own land but we also love our home, homestead to be for the next few decades and privacy to work and
play as well as a caring neighborhood of incredible Minnesotans.
Live and let live!
It’s obvious that our neighbors care about
our street and community at large.
Two or three of our neighbors live in the
same homes in which they grew up, on our street. Incredible! Ha! It’s a quiet
street with children’s beautiful voices playing outside all late afternoon
longs and very rarely garbage is seen unless one is a brute, then we see
garbage like in the case of last week with fast food wrappers at the end of our
block but rarely.)
We work until 8:00 P.M. weekdays thus we’ll
be there late with an ice cream cake in hand and ready to socialize and relax
after a long day of work. Mind you, it’s six in the morning now. Much, too,
much is bound to happen between now and eight tonight. Hip! Hip! Hooray!
P.S. We’ve scrutinized every square inch of
our home. There’re no plastered walls. It’s all sheetrock and dense foam
installation as of 2000. Yeah! Thank you! Brand new windows that flip all the
way and I can wash them from the inside without ever stepping outside.
Sorry, no service personnel inside our home.
The more people, one, allows into one’s
personal world for a fee then the more room for mistakes, miscommunication and
disrespect.
I know what it’s like to have servants and service personnel workers
inside one’s home and I don’t think for one moment that people don’t take
liberties with others’ spaces. Gross. I found out the tough way.
I’ve heard and read that most house cleaners will go through one’s personal belongings and
at least once steal something from their clients. No, thank you. That’s just too
much melodrama for me and I’d be mad as hell for the inconvenience in
disrespect.
If people want something then we’re more than
willing to give it away but the audacity of some idiot going through one’s
personal belongings seems all too emotionally vulnerable. People sure are
queer.
--- --- ---
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
I’m sitting this one out.
Peace.
Gabriela
--- --- ---
*) Are you crazy?
I’m a pacifist at heart, of mind and soul.
However, this doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to sling an arrow or how to
shoot a gun. Please.
I’m not a Costa Rican for nothing (oh, how
I’d love to be at home on the Pacific Ocean on our family land today but alas
I’ve got a lot to get through. I can close my eyes and picture myself at home
in the ocean, struggling to surf. Ha!).
Costa Rica, we, The People haven’t had an
army since the late 1940’s and we do indeed believe in peace without being
taken advantage of.
Please, I don’t believe in violence of any
type but I most certainly believe in becoming indignant when others are out of
line, cross boundaries and vulgarly full of righteous indignation while causing
oppressive poser measures.
The Ticos are quite peaceful but by no means
are they silent when others are oppressed or idiotic.
--- --- ---
*) Oh, I held my hand to my heart as I heard about
the Sikh Temple shootings. Prayers are with the living.
White Supremacy is so "Old Skool"
and boring. Violence and murder are indeed boring. Really? What. There’s
nothing to be proud of when violence is forced upon peaceful taxpaying
civilians and civilians. Really.
--- --- ---
*) Oh, our dear Philippines! Prayers are with
the living.
--- --- ---
*) Syria. Syria. Syria. What a violent
indulgence committed by modern men.
Watching Syria’s violence is like watching
men masturbate in front of their Tele to erectile dysfunction commercials.
--- --- ---
*) Curiosity! Curiosity! Curiosity! Mars!
Mars! Mars!
--- --- ---
*) Are you crazy?
Do a little reading and research about the
anatomy and function of the brain.
There‘s no such thing as “hyperactive frontal
lobe”.
Why are humans so gullible to every piece of
psychological literary crap that gets put out by druggist psychologists who are
pushers and pimps for the pharmaceutical companies?
Wake up Americans!
Americans have become desperate economical
guinea pigs to the pharmaceutical companies and psychologists as pimps. Why are
so many Americans under the spell and influence of so many pharmaceutical
dazed-out and confused drugs?
Americans under such a spell are indeed
passive-aggressively raging violent, depressed and non-logical nor reasoning to say the least. They don’t seem quite
human, do they?
Humans are unpredictable.
Humans make mistakes.
Humans are clumsy.
Humans are random.
Humans aren’t manikins.
Humans have to concentrate and think while
conducting dense and complex lives and tasks such as driving. I think that I
don’t like driving. Driving is a great deal of responsibility and I don’t have
the best eye / hand coordination in the world.
My Father the retired M.D. psychologist said
to me early on as a teen; “ ‘Never
take any drugs for your A.D.H.D. such as Ritalin. I’d rather you smoke marijuana then take methamphetamines.
Methamphetamines will begin a life of addiction while marijuana is not
‘necessarily’ addictive as an example.’
” He emphasized his words “as an example”. He wasn’t being literal he was
making a comparison. (Correction to the paraphrase quote. Any writer will tell
you that they’re grateful for notes!) Go Notes! (A little cheer!)
I heed my Father’s warning because he was
right.
He told me over and over again for several
years to paraphrase my Father, “‘Never take any lab made drugs. They’re still
testing them out on the Americans without any proof of any safe or certain
outcome on this generation or the next. Children and young adults have no
business taking drugs because their brains aren’t done changing, maturing and
growing until they’re twenty-eight years of age or so. By the time a person is
twenty-nine they’ll know if they’re truly schizophrenic or not. Life’s
difficult and the sooner you get used to that concept then the less depressed
you’ll get about living.’ ”
(Thank you so much Dada!)
--- --- ---
*) No, if I were to get cancer again
(Melanoma) I wouldn’t go through chemotherapy no matter how much any one paid
me. Nope. Step back.
As a future parent like hell if a county, a
legal court system or any other form of authority will tell me how to treat a
child of mine possibly with cancer.
The decisions that Eric and I make about our
health is our own.
Eric watched his sister, fight a nine year
battle with bone cancer and the Chemo left her more dilapidated than the
illness itself. Nope. Chemo is out of the question for me and my children. I’m
not a sadist.
What is this greedy / money grabbing system
trying to do to people, put them into their graves before their time? Really!
Why so much misinformation in America about
any type of health?
Why?
It’s so annoying and irritating.
I guess, because humans aren’t important
--only the mightier holier-than-thou
bottom dollar is. Greed runs America amuck. Too bad it’s so shallow.
--- --- ---
*) Ha! Not funny, simply an exclamation!
The Shrimp in the Gulf Coast are still blind.
You eat Gulf shrimp at your own risk. No, no
thank you.
I don’t care what the British Petroleum
tourist commercials and propaganda state. Those commercials ought to be illegal
in this day in age. They seem deadly to eat foods from or near an oil spill, of
only what? A year or two ago? Yikes. Scary. Scary business the business of
killing or poisoning families, species and environmental conditions.
(Run like an Indian when it most counts
because it’s best to live and pass off our DNA then to get killed off /
murdered and parish.)
--- --- ---
*) (Correction; I’ve met four (not two)
“Shaman” posers in one year from last summer to this one. Ouch! Queer to say
the least. Two in Duluth and two in Minneapolis.
--- --- ---
*) King Abdullah! What a remarkable man with
this refugee ordeal!
--- --- ---
*) Thank you to a Twin Cities school for
providing haircuts, clothes and meals to our students who are in need of
resources. Go Twin Cities! I shan’t beg for our homeless youth; however our
Twin Cities’ children, youth and runaways are in desperate need of resources while
they live out existences in abandoned buildings, cars and shacks.
A tear almost came to my eye as I heard the
news of a school making a major difference in the lives of our Twin Cities
low-income housing youth. I take a great deal of interest in the lives, trials
and tribulations of our homeless, displaced and youth in hardship here in the
Twin Cities, Minnesota, the United States of America and The World.
--- --- ---
*) Charlie Rose is indeed a remarkable man
(no, we’ve never met nor do we go out of our way to meet each other).
We; The People, want Mr. Rose around for a
long time yet to come. This man is a great man of mainstream media, (for those
of you in the year 7012).
No offense and with a great deal of respect
for the incredible man that Charlie Rose is, however and nevertheless why does
Mr. Charlie Rose look so tired all the time? I think I know the answer.
As an executive producer, I’d directly go to
Mr. Rose and ask him to choose something that he would like to cut out from his
busy work life that creates more stress than it ought to. I like Mr. Charlie
Rose in mainstream media because that’s where the people need him the most.
Thank you.
August 6, 2012
Correction: from “Invisible Man” to “The
Invisible Man”. (Whichever.) I don’t know either book. I’ve kept a distance
from both, however my professor said: The
Invisible Man. I had to look it up in my notes: Thank goodness for notes.
Who wrote The Invisible Man?
Who wrote Invisible Man?
Silence.
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
Shall we get to the heart of a dance?
Shall we go tribal? Let’s.
I can feel my heart pounding against my chest
from jumping straight up and down continuously. Join me, please. If you will?
I’m learning to keep one count. One. Two. Three. Four. One. Two. Three. Four
and so on and so forth.
--- --- ---
I could stall all day long.
Here we go!
On your marks, get set, ready, go!
Let’s plunge right in like Olympiad athletes.
[I haven’t
seen Missy Franklin’s swim yet as of last week. (I can’t wait!)]
--- --- ---
::: One word only. :::
Plagiarism.
(Oh. Ouch! Okay. Is it over? Has the lightning bolt struck?)
I don’t know what to tell you.
I don’t know what to write.
I’m speechless.
Now, I’ve been taught about legal artistic content vs. professional
vs. amateur vs. beginners’ development and operations.
I was taught that any minor from the age of 18 or younger
could be pardoned from legal action of something as ghastly as plagiarism (when
one is in one’s youth then one is young and inconsiderate).
A beginner is one that must learn to get passed their envy
of the masters (deceased or living), copying and ego trips before proceeding to
amateur status, however old or young a beginner might be; one must go through
many stages of manifestation in trying to find a voice and style.
Now, an amateur is anyone whom is an
incredible human willing to learn a trade or craft without pay yet a remarkable
human who takes interest, respect and admiration for doing anything well in any
craft, apprenticeship and development in the off chance that one might consider
becoming a professional for fee of one’s skills, solutions, moral and ethical
artistic production created for future consideration and contribution. Amateur anything is done for the pure joy of
doing something well that one enjoys doing such as gardening, woodcarving and
sailing.
--- --- ---
Yes, I’m stalling hardcore. I have so many
thoughts, yet I have to organize them. If I feel completely compelled,
passionate and innately see the importance to take a stance upon any subject
then I will, however, I’m human and thank goodness I’m not a civil judge.
--- --- ---
Plagiarism.
I don’t know.
What.
What is there to write?
That plagiarism is bad? (Kind of funny, but
not really. I mean, no, not really funny in the least.)
There’s something innately psychologically
lazy about plagiarism in general.
Now, I find that one of the greatest beginner
writers’ blunders in plagiarism is that most writers don’t know how to site
their sources no matter how great a quote or a source of any content size is
used in covering information throughout a page. (You understood that, you went
through Junior High.)
First of all a writer must know how to implicitly edit
one’s work and the works of others otherwise, no go.
One must know the entire content of one’s
layout and where and in which places throughout the pages, the writing belongs
to the writer, or another’s content is borrowed
to make a point, an example or to complete a writer’s clause sentence for example. Now, this doesn’t excuse
the behavior of any plagiarist in the least bit beginner or not.
If a writer doesn’t have the basics of
grammar, syntax and structure then well, one can’t begin to understand the
painstakingly aspects of laying down brick work to a literary editing
foundation in design.
Second, writing isn’t only thinking for the sake of
thinking. Writing is research, fact checking and countless of corrections for
as long as it takes.
Third, writing isn’t only writing just like a
flick-of-a-wrist isn’t just a
flick-of-a-wrist while serving an Olympiad volley.
If a writer doesn’t edit their work then how
can they learn to appreciate the works of others?
He can’t.
It’s inconceivably out of his nature to
relate to the struggle, the learning and the detail oriented obviousness in the
difference between those who plagiarize and those who don’t.
Four, writing is reading.
Five, writing is a huge responsibility in
contribution to observation.
Six, writing is analysis.
Seven, writing is reasoning and logic.
Eight, the better the writing then the better the
writer ( not necessarily as a person but as a thinker).
Nine, every writer knows every single word
they’ve ever written. They just do. It’s just one of those things. Writers
remember every single word they write just like a songwriter remembers their
slew of songs written and performed over the decades.
Ten, the reason as to why an excellent writer
makes a master editor is because a master isn’t going to pretend to get away
with anything much less fake their way through their own laziness. Either one
is a writer and stands up to the responsibilities in the form, line and texture
of the writing or a plagiarist is a fool and has no respect for the art form of
writing.
Eleven, writing is as vulnerable as falling in
love. That’s why writers hardly ever talk about the love of their writing craft
to just about anyone. Writing is like peace and adventure all mixed in one safe
outcome…
--- --- ---
In 1996 a writing teacher, professor and
instructor asked me to stay after a writer’s workshop session (I’ve partaken in
many writer’s workshops across the country.)
He scrutinized my face for any signs of
mischievousness and I looked over his for any type of harsh preconceived ruling
in judgment.
I could see that he was completely flustered.
He looked around the empty workroom and stood about three feet away from me as
he brushed his right hand through his hair and held his arm at the nape of his
neck-- froze in position and looked down at me with warmth but also in complete
seriousness.
“Gaby,” He began ever so slowly.
I almost burst out laughing.
What
was eating at this man?
What was he meant to say?
“Have you ever read “The Invisible Man”?
I had no idea what he was talking about.
I thought for a moment that maybe it was a
trick question.
I hesitated because I didn’t know where he
was going with his point.
“No. I haven’t ever read “The Invisible Man”.
“You’ve never picked it up?”
I had to stop and consider if I had ever read
such a book because by the age of 18 I had read so many books. I quickly went
through an extensive catalogue of several hundreds if not then thousands of
books that I could remember. Nope. It wasn’t coming to me.
He shifted his weight with incredible
gravitas and gave me a look that said, think
real hard. So I did.
Finally, I resigned to my lack of memory to
such a title of a book and said, “No, seriously I have no idea what “The
Invisible Man’s” plot is even if I tried to make it up.”
He considered this for a long moment and
after a deep breath he said to me, “It’s just that you write exactly like The Invisible
Man.”
I gave him a blank stare because I had no
idea what he was getting at.
“I had to address this with you. I needed to
know if you were plagiarizing.”
He struck a hard blow directly into my heart
because I hadn’t considered up to that point that I sounded like any other
writer. I was excited to find out the mystery author but a bit more embarrassed
to write like an author that I hadn’t ever even heard of. How embarrassing that
I didn’t know. I wasn’t as literate as I thought I had been up to that point.
My professor pardoned me and told me not to
worry about it and to go on my merry way.
To this day I still don’t know who wrote “The
Invisible Man” or what the book’s all about.
I’ve shied away from reading such material
for fear that I’ll end up writing even more so like the author because I’ll get
comfortable in taking short cuts, getting lazy and sounding more so like him
than the writing already does, I guess.
I’ll get around to reading “The Invisible
Man” in the next 7-17 years before I write my first novel. I wouldn’t want to
make plagiarist beginners’ blunders if I can help it.
With respect.
I love the craft of writing because not only
do I have to think progressively, but I also have to make sense of these
thoughts through the development of literary aptitude.
Gabriela
P.S. We bought a washer and dryer yesterday.
How adult of us and no, not on credit.
*) I’ve done laundry in Laundromats in many
different foreign countries and it’s interesting to say the least. I washed our
clothes at a Laundromat this morning. I’ll probably not do laundry in another
local or abroad Laundromat again. This morning was my fifth time in 12 years of
publically washing my undergarments in public. Ha!
*) We’re not keeping up with the Joneses. We
live. We dance. We make food. We laugh. We’re human. We make mistakes. We live.
*) No, I’m not a wet dream nor a piece of
meat to any man. Thank you very much.
The reason as to why gentlemen treat women
well in communication is because they know that by the end of most days women
will be dehumanized and treated like pieces of meat and if there can be one
less man to do that to any woman throughout her day then he keeps himself from
doing just that, so-- that she may at least have the chance to breathe once in
her day full of strangers and camaraderie’s.
Thank you to excellent men who can
communicate with women without dehumanizing women and looking as desperate as
though he’s about to mount her like a little barking dog from behind and hump
her leg. Nothing escapes women.
*) Prayers are with the living in the Congo.
Ebola.
*) Oh, Iran. Our darling.
*) Oh, Syria. Our darling children.
*) Oh, Haiti. Our darling progress.
*) Oh, Cuba. Our darling flowering beauty.
*) So many thoughts. Stop. Peace be with you. And also with you.
*) Many grammatical corrections were made throughout
the text. Cheers! Ciao.
August 3, 2012
“A little thought
and a little kindness are often worth more than a great deal of money.” - John Ruskin
“A mistake made by many people with great
convictions is that they will let nothing stand in the way of their views, not
even kindness.” -
Bryant H. McGill
“A part of kindness consists in loving people
more than they deserve.” - Joseph Joubert
“A spirit, breathing the language of
independence, is natural to Englishmen, few of whom are disposed to brook compulsion,
or submit to the dictates of others, when not softened by reason, or tempered
with kindness.” -
Joseph Lancaster
“A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his
deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he
who plants kindness gathers love.” - Saint Basil
Happy Friday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
Fairness is an overrated diplomatic ploy, its justice
that the citizens are after.
--- --- ---
Are you crazy?
I love
junk food and that’s why I don’t prepare it at home.
Junk food’s a luxury to have from
time-to-time otherwise it’s just too fattening, artery clogging and depressing.
Although, I could eat junk food all day long if only my body would handle it
but it doesn’t. Thankfully.
I can’t wait to find a “Chick-Fil-A” and
taste this chicken that people say it’s incredible.
I’ll tell you this: when one is used to eating non-hormone,
non-pesticide and free range chicken then one can taste the less than stellar
qualities of chickens who haven’t been treated with as much love and respect as
those that have been well provided and cared for. One can taste the oppression
and the bone is brittle and breaks off easily. Gross. Imagine sucking on
depressed and enslaved chickens because that’s how Americans like their
chickens. Americans are what they eat.
Imagine haggard chicken because it’s true,
our animals are treated as slaves then off to the slaughterhouses for human
consumption, dip fried in lard to help you forget that some chickens live in
hatred.
One can always
taste hatred on food like the salmon eggs I had the other morning.
I was ill for hours afterwards from the
hatred prepared in those eggs. Life is that wonderful and simple it lets you
know the truth about everything you need to know even if food is all dressed up
in “organic” emptiness.
I know salmon like it’s the back of my hand
and I’ve prepared it thousands of times in my lifetime and I haven’t ever been
ill from salmon until the other morning this week. Gross. I hate hatred in my
food especially if it’s overpriced and drenched in snobby like the embarrassed
counter staff who believe their too cute and better than to serve others.
(Garbage in and garbage out, computer
jargon.)
Why is it that America refuses to do service
well anymore?
We pay top dollar.
Isn’t our dollar good enough in the purchase
of organic and vegan foods?
I live for the right to have the
“Chick-Fil-A” owner say anything he wants because that’s indeed his right and
freedom of speech.
What I don’t concede to is that his company
may get tons of free publicity from making a scandal out of bigotry like it was
the Virgin Mother walking on water while the livelihoods and freedoms of our
same-sex marriage citizens and their children are at stake now as were the
livelihoods and freedoms of our African Americans all throughout the Civil
Rights Movement.
The double standard leaves much, too, much to
be desired.
Why is it that “Chick-Fil-A” owner can damage
the livelihoods and rights of our same-sex citizens, but “Chick-Fil-A” has a
right to be free and to continue to conduct business without incurring any
damages to his bigotry? I just don’t get these American double standards any
longer and that’s what makes bastards of us all.
--- --- ---
P.S. My favorite places to eat in town are
Dairy Queens. Ha!
I hate Dairy Queen’s mean spirited
commercials, but for fast food I like how well cooked the food is. I haven’t
gotten ill from their food not once and that’s commendable in this day in age.
Yes, I know exactly what hotdogs are made of: lips,
ass and nut sacks;
‘knot’ (I wouldn’t begin to know how to
spell “nut”) sacks. Ha! Ha! Ha! Now, that’s funny! (I’ll have to look it up.)
More homework.
I enjoy the well cooked hotdogs from Dairy
Queen plus their service is real, outstanding and it has surpassed even the
quality of service in fine dining restaurants. No, really. It has. I would
know. I’ve been seated and dined in some of the finest restaurants and private
clubs in the world.
I want my Dairy Queen just like I want my
MTV! HA!
The Robbinsdale Dairy Queen is run
efficiently, cleanly and kindly by its wonderful young staff of intelligent
people, who aren’t afraid to work hard, lend great service and value to their
products.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been
reminded of my favorite eatery, Casey’s. We
found it this week.
The Robbinsdale Dairy Queen reminds me of
Disney World’s hotdog stand Casey’s and that’s one of the best run stands in
the world along with the Robbinsdale Dairy Queen. Thank you! Thank you! Thank
you, because I hate patchouli oil in my food!
--- --- ---
Are you crazy?
I don’t believe humans are “bottom feeders”
because humans have frontal lobes nor “White Trash”, “Niggers”, “Spicks”,
“Orientals”, “and Hicks” or any other derogatory and slur word.
I don’t believe in sub-humans.
I just don’t believe in dehumanization.
I believe and fight for the equal rights of
all. Thus, I have the adult freedom and artistic license in the universes to
write metaphorically and anecdotally to get you to wake up to your frontal
lobes, senses and fight against the injustices to be.
“Oh!” if you say while reading my writings.
“I can’t believe she wrote that!”
Then I have done my job as any commendable writer of their era does
in challenging the reader to think and to step outside of yourselves for even one moment and hopefully listen and feel indignant about anything unjust in the world.
Anything at all. Please. Apathy won’t longer do. Peace.
Thus, hopefully you’ll create great and
positive change in the world because you know what it’s like to read something
that you hate or at least that, which makes you uncomfortable-enough to
consider and think differently than you normally would.
Your emotions change your brain and body chemistry and
that’s what I’m aiming for this week to get you to change your chemistry and to
trust the lightning bolt of inspiration and justice.
Fairness is an overrated diplomatic ploy, its justice
that the citizens are after.
I’m Yin and Yang.
I’m light and shadow.
I’m positive and negative.
Mostly I’m human and I believe in humanity and kindness above
all else. I’m fighting for those two significant aspects of life with every
fiber of my being. Please, won’t you be
my neighbor. Ha!
--- --- ---
Are you crazy?
I don’t go around crying no matter how hungry,
tired or frustrated I may get.
If I would’ve gotten pulled over on the
express lane the other day then I would’ve been quite respectful, relaxed and
admitted my dumbness to the police for getting lost on a diamond lane.
No, I hardly ever cry and it surely won’t be
in front of the cops. Thank you very much!
When I express strong emotion on paper it’s
done metaphorically. I like to express strong sentiment but by no means does it
mean to be literal. Aloha!
--- --- ---
Are you crazy?
I love “Hicks”!
Be careful to make judgments!
I have fallen in love with people from
Missouri and The South that have changed my life for the greater and these hicks are more sophisticated than any
hateful politicians.
--- --- ---
Are you crazy?
I love many millennial babies!
Sincerely,
Gabriela
P.S. Wishing you an incredible and relaxed
weekend. Peace, love and kindness.
August 2, 2012
“In a world where billions
believe their deity conceived a mortal child with a virgin human, it's stunning
how little imagination most people display.” - Chuck Palahniuk
“The future you have,
tomorrow, won't be the same future you had, yesterday.” - Chuck Palahniuk
“Some people are just born
human, the rest of us, we take a lifetime to get there.” - Chuck Palahniuk
“My life might be little and
boring, but at least it’s mine - not some assembly-line, secondhand,
hand-me-down life.” - Chuck Palahniuk
Happy Thursday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
--- --- ---
Internet was down for 24 hours exactly the
other day. Thousands and I mean thousands of dollars were lost in our area code
alone. Pity.
--- --- ---
I’d not once heard of “Chick-Fil-A” in my
life ever until last week.
What a hateful and bigoted company.
I can write anything I want because they’ve made themselves the object
of talk by going public with their atrocious view points.
Don’t sell me the bible, Christianity and
religious love when people are so hateful.
Such a company likes to make a mockery out of
modern culture, give it the-middle-finger and call it a “nigger” because to be anti same-sex marriage is to be
prejudiced in this day in age to say the least. Haven’t the Texans and the
Illinois folks have had enough of bigotry and hatred? What a history!
What filthy and vulgar leadership, not to
mention that the chicken probably tastes as vulgar, dirty, cheap and dingy as
the establishments look on the Tele. Weirdoes.
Free range! Free range! Free range! No
hormones! No pesticides!
I’d say don’t pay any heed to such a bigoted
business owner and his company who hates people he’s never met before who
haven’t caused him any personal harm. Fascist. Bad leadership. Filthy
leadership.
It is one thing to speak out against those
who’ve commit injustices against oneself and others; it is quite another to
start a public hate campaign with ‘hick’ politicians supporting a cause of
hatred against same-sex marriage.
This Chick-Fil-A, this owner and White Trash politicians on this
immediate bandwagon are so queer to say the least.
Mean spirited little kids who grew up to
become mean spirited adults because they think they can get away with being
bullies. Losers, all of them. What more is there to say? Nothing.
Goodbye.
Gabriela
P.S. I want my internet! I want my internet!
I want my internet! Ha!
No, seriously. We’re losing money and I don’t
know what else to tell you. Alright! That’s it!
--- --- ---
*) I mistakenly drove onto a “diamond lane”
(express lane) yesterday afternoon and I
almost cried (metaphorically) because I was so lost.
I had to make the sign of the cross across my
face because I didn’t know what else to do.
Then I exited to the left? Left exits are
bizarre to me, they’re tough getting used to. I was so sad I had made such a
driving blunder because I had never before done that in my driving life. Sigh.
F-. Ha!
--- --- ---
At that point (2:30 P.M.) my eyes had watered
for seven hours straight from allergies, I was hungry and tired. I’m grateful
that no cops pulled me over because I
would’ve genuinely wept with them from tiredness and frustration from being
lost three miles (correction from “five” to “three” miles) from our new home.
Thank you to the universes!
Eric says that I have to go and see an
allergy specialist. He thinks the trees, grasses and pollens are really
affecting me. I’m so tired of sinuses. It’s like having a bad sinus cold all
the time.
In Uptown my eyes itched while here in Robbinsdale
my eyes burn.
What more can a girl do?
--- --- ---
*) Nope. Please, back up your dance steps. I
don’t rant.
I like to write that I rant, but I know better because Kurt Vonnegut is
my inspiration and he swore in his incredible writings when it counted most for
him to do so.
Here’s an example of a rant: (middle finger, fuck you, middle finger,
fuck off, middle finger, go fuck yourself, middle finger, middle finger with an
up and down gesture, fuck-fuck, middle finger, middle finger, as an example). Ha! Ha! Ha!
A rant is nonsensical!
A logical thought with strong language is a
linguistic equation that ultimately leads to logic, reasoning and analysis to
convey a strong emotion.
No, I don’t frivolously write swear words
mindlessly. How could I? I’m writing conscientiously, no? Yes. I know exactly
when I write a swear word, thank you. There’s nothing mindless about writing.
Thank you very much!
August 1, 2012
“Anyone who
thinks they're important is usually just a pompous moron who can't deal with
his or her own pathetic insignificance and the fact that what they do is
meaningless and inconsequential.” - William Thomas
“If you can get humor and seriousness at the
same time, you've created a special little thing, and that's what I'm looking
for, because if you get pompous, you lose everything.” - Paul Simon
“Career is too
pompous a word. It was a job, and I have always felt privileged to be paid for
what I love doing.” - Barbara Stanwyck
“Here's something
pompous - you take your day and artistically create it, so every moment has an
artistic flavor.” - William Shatner
“People who do
not know how to laugh are always pompous and self-conceited.” - William Makepeace
Thackeray
Happy Wednesday!
Aloha.
Let’s dance?
--- --- ---
No, I’m no hater.
I’ve simply eaten a golden apple so I know how society (public life) at large
could conduct itself much better unlike people who talk loudly on their cell
phones in public places because they need to be noticed for doing something
special in life.
It’s the white
haired people (no, not Elders, elderly) who throw themselves out in front
of traffic and I just don’t get it anymore. I have friends who tell me to say
out loud “White Trash” even if they’re black, Hispanic and any other race, while
I’m driving because they act as such and they ought to be treated as such.
I don’t know. I guess.
--- --- ---
Hello, internet has been down for most of, or, our entire area code since early Tuesday; companies and individuals
are losing thousands of dollars per hour.
Imagine being in India without electricity?
We’re thankful for what we have!
I finagled with the internet for about three
hours yesterday late afternoon and it wasn’t until about ten last night that we
finally called and spoke to our internet service provider personnel who
informed us that the service was down for most of the area code much of the
day.
No one sent out a notice nor made any service
announcement about the great disturbance to this area.
We must look into another company that can provide “sleek” internet service
because we haven’t been without internet service ever in the six years we lived in Minneapolis. We pay top dollar
and would like our services to be as they are advertised.
We can live without many things, but internet
isn’t one of them because it’s the main artery to our companies’
communications; otherwise, well, we hate losing money. Who doesn’t?
--- --- ---
No, I refuse to link onto “Twitter” and
“Facebook”; they’re no longer the personal concepts that they started out for
companies; now, they’re just corporations spying in-on consumers in the form of
consumer reports and that’s too creepy to have corporate websites designed to
sell the consumer on more mediocre objects, products and services as if there
isn’t already enough of that.
I’ve been told by global communications
experts that these commercial and consumer on-line media tools won’t be around
in a hundred years and that these sites are no longer social media they’re now
on-line parasites, digital Gestapo and Big
Brother’s Watching. More junk mail.
I might return to Facebook in five years (I haven’t jumped
on Facebook in five whole straight months and I don’t miss it one bit (since
March 2012)).
--- --- ---
Many people who’ve been disrespectful to me
personally and directly to my face have come from and live in Duluth Minnesota
or have roots from Duluth; these shallow and crude types simply didn’t want to
be connected to me, per say, they were social climbers who wanted to be
connected to my friends, past school mates and people that I know.
Absolutely not! Who can’t stand a parasite
and a social climber even through the means of social on-line media?
If you haven’t directly met someone, have a connection to them or trust them
then block them from your profile, immediately. The character or lack thereof
in a person can infest your entire social standing. Everybody knows that!
Those people can make your life a living hell because
it’s not about interactive communications it’s about what they can gain through
connections that they would’ve never had otherwise in real life because their
position and standing wasn’t high enough to have doors opened to them nor are
those doors meant to be opened to such rude and volatile, poorly conducted
people without any social class or standing to begin with only manipulation and
lies and that won’t get them very far.
Go ahead. Give yourselves the permission to
block crazy bitches and assholes.
It’s okay. You can do it. You’re adults. I did it with about 400 (correction
from “200” to “400”) maniacal people that I’ve known personally from my
mid-twenties in Duluth Minnesota and it felt Grrreat!
I bite my thumb at thee. Ha!
Who cares what those crazy assholes and bitches think of you anyway.
Bad conduct is bad character through
actions of dismissal and marginalization and no one wants to be associated to those people even if they’re delusional
enough to consider themselves important.
Even if they hate your guts for blocking them
remember that they don’t-want-to-know-you, they
want to know who you know. Idiots!
Everybody hates social climbers because they are parasites who force their
way in instead of waiting to be invited in.
I put a stop to it as quickly as possible
because I’ve known some of the most maniacal, disruptive and manipulative
Duluth and White Trash people who’d
cut one’s throat open without thinking twice. I hate social climbers. Be
careful on Facebook and in life.
I’ve been told that word-of-mouth will not be
replaced because it’s still the wildfire of human communication. I’ve sat in
rooms where people have ripped out the heart of a company or business-service
and well, within a year those specific companies have closed down.
People and their love of gab is what drive
world markets and communications. That’s why I stay away from gabbing to others
directly whether good or bad unless I’m writing about it and making it a
poignant feature and goal to enhance the mobility of any community’s well
deserved companies.
Goodbye.
Gabriela
P.S. We saw a showy Caucasian couple downtown
yesterday morning with their brood of three children. Two, three-year old boys
on tricycles at my knee height with helmets-on and a little baby girl slung
over her mother’s shoulders.
The whole entire yuppie familial entourage
looked like a bloody joke as a black homeless man sat on the ground blowing
smoke in their kids’ faces at their eye level.
It was such a joke because the entire family
barely fit on the sidewalk and they were in the way of others; I had to keep
myself from bursting out in laughter at their stupidity and loneliness as a
family. Only lonely White people do such ridiculousness in this
modern era in the city. It’s a freak show out there.