December 31, 2010
Auld Lang Syne Lyrics
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
and days of auld lang syne?
And here's a hand, my trusty friend
And gie's a hand o' thine
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
Source from
Wikipedia
"Auld Lang Syne" (Scots pronunciation: [ˈɔːld lɑŋˈsəin]: note "s" rather than "z") is a Scots poem written by Robert Burns in 1788 and set to the tune of a traditional folk song (Roud # 6294). It is well known in many English-speaking (and other) countries and is often sung to celebrate the start of the New Year at the stroke of midnight. By extension, its use has also become common at funerals, graduations, and as a farewell or ending to other occasions.The song's Scots title may be translated into English literally as "old long since", or more idiomatically, "long long ago", "days gone by" or "old times". Consequently "For auld lang syne", as it appears in the first line of the chorus, is loosely translated as "for (the sake of) old times".
The phrase "Auld Lang Syne" is also used in similar poems by Robert Ayton (1570–1638), Allan Ramsay (1686–1757), and James Watson (1711) as well as older folk songs predating Burns. Matthew Fitt uses the phrase "In the days of auld lang syne" as the equivalent of "Once upon a time..." in his retelling of fairy tales in the Scots language.
December 30, 2010
“Drop the last year into the silent limbo of
the past. Let it go, for it was imperfect, and thank God that it can
go.” - Brooks Atkinson
December 29, 2010
“Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning
but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.” - Hal Borland
December 28, 2010
Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
- Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 1850
December 27, 2010
“We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day.” - Edith Lovejoy Pierce
December 24, 2010
“A Christmas candle is a lovely thing; It
makes no noise at all, But softly gives itself away.”- Eva Logue
December 23, 2010
“Christmas is a necessity. There has to be at least one day of the year to remind us that we're here for something else besides ourselves.”
- Eric Sevareid
December 22, 2010
“I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round, as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.” - Charles Dickens
Happy Holidays…
We’re wishing you all the happiness in the universe.
May you find yourself surrounded by the goodness of
humanity and the charm of Nature.
We’re blessed to be alive, to be fully content with our lives
and to have a roof over our heads
and festive food on our table. We wish you just as much if
not more on this season of giving,
hope and humanity.
For those families that we’ve met throughout the year –
those families which have very little, our
prayers are with you, always. And for those who have an
abundance of wealth we are truly happy for you
and wish you much health – and we also pray for you.
I’ve prayed for all of the heifers and goats being given as
offerings and gifts to our sisters and brothers across the world,
I pray that these animals contribute a great deal in
quality of life to those who need them most.
May these animals bring much trade, food and economical
vitality to families, villages and surrounding neighbors.
I’ve said many prayers to the Gods throughout the year,
even though this figure of speech has very little
religious connotation – it is more of a sentiment and I
have breathed many prayers unto the world just as
many others have throughout the year.
I’ve prayed for health, governments, kindness,
understanding, learning, growth, forgiveness,
distribution of wealth, a thriving middle class, for the
environment, for girls and boys who are forced into sex
trafficking, for the abuse of any living organism and for
the strength to survive anything that is thrown in
anyone’s way, anything that forces anyone into the
victimization of brutality and oppression.
I’ve written throughout the year as any writer does for the
purpose to record the events, happenings and overall
sentiments of our current and modern times. We live in a
grandiose time. A time, of much development, a time of
growing pains, a time where we are shifting from the
Baby-Boomers into the Information Age.
One hundred and fifty years ago the Industrial Revolution
was introduced into a world that was fast fading away.
A world of Charles Dickens and his dark portrayal of poor
city life. Dickens gave us a peek into a world of modern
industrialization and now the artists of this century give
us a peek into the Information Age.
A New Year advances and we have all of the grace to become
and to continue to be great citizens.
We live and work in a great country – this, United States
of America is a great country. One, that must defend its
average citizens. A
country that requires reminders from its artists, political activists, leaders,
teachers, reformists
and anyone invested into future generations.
Everything has power to help even in the smallest of ways.
One individual can make a great deal of difference each
day.
Power and success are defined by each individual.
Success and wealth are defined by those who diligently
labor towards a vital economy, family, friends and anything
that is deemed worth your time and your efforts to continue
forth. We’re a great country living in difficult economic
and spiritual times but this, too, shall pass and the
people that we’ve met along the journey are worth everything.
The people that we trust, love and respect are worth our advancement
as a human race - so we continue to
carve
out a living from the Earth and to believe that love,
kindness and respect are worth a life lived.
We wish you everything great and good that you wish for.
I’ve shut the Tele off this morning (which I very rarely
watch), and I’m ready for Christmas day.
The news is full of dark and depressing events, and so I
urge you this Christmas to sit quietly in Nature
(if you can) and to look to Venus early in the morning sky.
I will be looking to her to bring beauty and grace into
this world. I look forward to all of the amazing events yet
to unfold in the remainder of this year and a whole new
year to come.
It’s exciting to think that we are to continue the
advancement of the human race in a whole new year ahead.
With regards to your families, loved ones and cared ones.
Keeping it real.
Gabriela
December 21, 2010
“Christmas gift
suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a
friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a
good example. To yourself, respect.” -
Oren Arnold
Good Night.
Buena Noche.
Gabriela
December 20, 2010
“Let's practice what we preach, and with the
acceptance that we expect from others, let's stop being so damn judgmental and
crucifying everyone who doesn't fit in to our boxed-in perception of what is
right.” – Gillian Anderson
Good Night.
Wow, what a fast paced day.
It’s almost over already.
Wishing you sweet-dreams…
Gabriela
December 17, 2010
I expect to pass through
this world but once; any good thing therefore that I can do, or any kindness
that I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now; let me not defer or
neglect it, for I shall not pass this way again.” - Stephan Grellet
Wishing you an amazing weekend.
May you find comfort, love and kindness in all of your
interactions with loved ones, endearing and caring ones.
I’m tired.
It was a long week.
Much happened… too much.
Tranquilla, calm and wishing you happiness.
Gabriela
December 16, 2010
“Intellectual
growth should commence at birth and cease only at death” – Albert Einstein
Thursday already!
December 15, 2010
“True courage is cool and
calm. The bravest of men have the least of a brutal, bullying insolence,
and in the very
time of danger are found the most serene and free.” - Lord Shaftesbury
"You ran off in such a hurry. I trust you didn't mean to be rude." -- Tera Sinube to Ione Marcy
"For a guy who moves slow, you always seem to get ahead of me." -- Ahsoka Tano to Tera Sinube
"The value of moving slowly is that one can always clearly see the way ahead." -- Tera Sinube.
(From
the Episode “Lightsaber Lost” Star Wars The Clone Wars.)
Happy Wednesday!
December 14, 2010
“Composing
a piece of music is very feminine. It is sensitive, emotional, contemplative.
By comparison, doing housework is positively masculine.” - Barbara
Kolb
December 13, 2010
“It's so easy for a kid to join a gang, to do drugs... we should
make it that easy to be involved in football and academics.” -
Snoop Dogg
Happy Monday!
December 10, 2010
“Everything is material for the seed of happiness, if you look into it with inquisitiveness and curiosity. The future is completely open, and we are writing it moment to moment. There always is the potential to create an environment of blame -- or one that is conducive to loving-kindness.” - Pema Chodron
Happy Friday!
The final day of this week and we are on the
homestretch and ready for adventure, friends and Christmas decorations; Our Christmas
tree is up and decorated and the little colored lights bring so much warmth to
this cold season. How incredibly fast the days are moving along.
I saw a shooting star this morning at about
five thirty – (give or take a few minutes). The hour is 6:01 A.M. I found the
Little Dipper and the Northern Star this morning for the first time ever in my
life. About five seconds later a shooting star appeared in the dusk looking
morning of winter sky. Two remarkable things: One; I have never in my life found
the Little Dipper and Northern Star on my own and Two; I haven’t seen a
shooting star in about nine years. My prayers to the Gods were answered – are
you riled up about my usage of terminology, yet?
(The discussion about the word “God” used in
everyday language and the plural and singular forms of writing it I will try to
approach in another blog for another time about the pros and cons in the usage
of words in everyday culture. Again, what comes first the chicken or the egg?
Does language create culture or culture, create language? Sounds silly to
ponder, doesn’t it? Truly, if I am to dedicate my time and energy to writing
then I do need to ponder this subject until I can begin to understand the
origins of words. I’m not particular because I have a tranquilla approach to
words, personally I don’t mind if adults swear like sailors because they are
adults and just like any adult understands there are times when swearing is
called upon and I write about anything because that’s my discipline to be able
to be open minded enough to undertake any form of discussion, even if I’m
extremely opinionated and not an expert about anything except for being a
thinking human animal who exercises her muscle to think.)
Discussion is for ideas and so are blogs and
any other form of any type of writing, speaking and communication.
I started this blog as an exercise in grammar
and overall a literary commitment to better writing no matter what the subject
matter was.
I’ll write about anything I see, hear,
consider, think about and discuss in the world amongst other citizens about the
environment, politics, agriculture, history, concepts, theories, and
intellectual debate. Yes, this is possible and quite extraordinarily common in
all of the corners of the universe. Intelligent beings discuss their current
survival, life and prosperity. People with education or no education are
intelligent. I’ve met men who are manuals in their own right. Men and women who
can take anything apart and put it back together and make it work – they can
make any machine run because they’re that smart.
I’d like to think that the mechanics of
writing isn’t any different than any other mechanical skill. It takes muscle,
time, consideration, creativity and discipline to stick to the task at hand
without assuming that you already know the answer before you’ve solved any
problem.
My task is to become a better editor and
maybe that’s no more than a personal goal but it’s a goal of mine anyway
because that’s where I find the joy in writing even if I don’t agree on the
subject matter or when I’m totally passionate about what I think and believe in
subject matter. I’m not a wooden doll I’m a thinking writing human who tries to
refine my skill almost daily.
Like I learned in a book from a contemporary
prolific writer – writing comes with a ‘tool box’.
I’m like a kid in a shop; any working shop.
All I can see is tools and I wonder what I can weld, saw and build with any
power tool that I can use to create a purpose in making something with a
function. I like power tools and mine happens to be words. I construct words
for a living to stay alive because it’s the only thing I’m getting better at in
life. I improve over the years for one single reason that I’ve stayed with it.
No matter what new hobby or story we’re working on I realize that writing and
thinking are linked together. Funny? Right. That’s obvious, but the thing is
this if I’m lazy then the writing is lazy and if I practice at my craft then I
become a stronger writer like a boxer, so all I can really do is train and
practice – no different than any other craft, form, skill and trade.
I’m not selling you anything. If I wanted to
make money from the craft of writing then I’d write a book or several hundred
and get stinking rich, because one thing is certain; observations are a dime a
dozen and so is subject matter but to really consider anything worth of value
to any value system it must first be made clear in understanding why it’s done
in the first place – what’s the purpose in doing anything if not then to
contribute something better than just average. Everyone and I mean everyone is
really good at something: Think about it. Everyone you know has some skill,
trade or talent that they’re passionate about and – some pursue it for life
while others don’t and that’s alright so long as hopefully there is something
worth value finding in what you want to do with your life while you’re alive
and I don’t mean for money I mean to live.
It was a tossup between embroidery, sewing
and learning to draw beyond stick figures and it always keeps coming back to
this silly little thing called writing, so I go with it for no other reason
that I like it. It’s fun and I’m learning otherwise I wouldn’t touch it.
I write not to tell you how to think about
subject matter because that’s any adult’s private business the way he thinks
about the world. My tool comes with a literary construct and manual that
requires the refinement of skill like welding and any other skill that requires
practice at becoming great at what you’ve begun to understand as something
greater than a form and instead it becomes a talent for the intuition at
knowing how to do something that anybody can do through hard work.
So, when I write about the following; if you
get riled up then you’re thinking.
I don’t abuse words, nor do I waste them.
When I write I have a clear vision as to what
I mean to convey but if I fail at that it’s only because I fail at being a
better editor, a better athlete, a better climber, a better welder, a better
anything for the only reason that I’m not trying to understand just as I’d
never tried to even find the Northern Star on my own. People had always pointed
it out to me because I was too lazy to understand how to look for it and now
that I found it on my own I will never-not-be-able to find it again. I will
always know the Northern Star as the brightest star of the Little Dipper.
Beautiful. Lovely.
Truly, what is there not to like about
expression, freedom of speech, writing, and freedom of press and anything that
is done for the art of better communication. I’m surprised that communities of
citizens don’t run and I mean to imply OWN television news stations.
I mean, the Associated Press releases video
content unto a stream where any FCC regulated station can run any world news
story so why don’t citizens get together and buy Television news stations and I
mean nightly news sources – Ah, the beauty of freedom of the press.
It would be an expensive undertaking and not
common but it’s always a possibility to start out with one news station and
before you-know-it the news could be run by citizens all over the world and
they’d make the big bucks to keep it in their communities and pass on the
responsibility that no one ought to starve in their communities so long as
they’re the leaders of their communities. I don’t mean building promotion and
campaigns to save the starving children I mean really take leadership and put
money where it belongs in the hands of the citizens. I don’t believe that the
world banks will collapse and never be heard from again. Like all potential it
raises and lowers to its highest performance and then it peaks again. Yes,
highest potential is when energy hits its lowest point and rises again. Think
about it because you can. A mechanic taught me that this summer. I never got it
until he took the time to explain it to me. Thank you.
There’s millions upon millions to be made
from owning a T.V. station and hopefully the citizens could get stinking rich
over time, so long as the news is kept free of corruption, incorrect reporting
and promotion and campaigning then the money they’d make would be worth every
penny. Imagine it! That would take courage, guts, know-how and patience to buy
and own such an operation. It would be tiresome and it would take a visionary
to implement such a task at heart, but maybe with a group of citizens it
wouldn’t be so difficult. The visual effects and post production media is so
good now a days that anybody could potentially put on news worthy stories at
the drop of a hat. Imagine, because you can.
I try not to waste words because this is my
discussion to the world of online media. It’s free as any communication worth
being normally is. Everything has a language but not everything speaks the same
language in different regions so how does anybody suggest any ideas except to
convey them through any form of communication; If I didn’t have writing then
I’d draw stick figures on cave walls. I’m not above or below any discipline I
just have a need to communicate in some form or another and writing seems to be
the craft that chose me; I fell head over heels in love with the mechanics of
writing so I stay committed to it even if it’s not a public forum, I’d still
write and I do write a lot more than a daily blog.
I’m wishing you a peaceful and incredible
weekend ahead.
I’ve been listening to people out on the
streets talk about WikiLeaks, the young teen from the Netherlands who took Visa
Card and Master Card off line (Correction: not yesterday) two days ago. I’ve
listened to ladies at the supermarket talk about the right to any freedom of
speech; I love the way they wear their scarves around their faces and I think
of Babushka dolls – there’s always so many more layers than you’d predict to
mature grown women citizens. I’ve heard people talk about the economy and the
banking system. I’ve seen many local small shop owners run their lovely stores
day in and day out with dignity, respect and hard work.
(My only thought was this and it will not be
correct but it’s an adult thought: If I were (hypothetically) in the leadership
position of these Nations which harbors Hackers then I would hire the hackers
and gladly welcome them onto my team in any branch of the government. Why?
Simply, because, they’re just that smart.
Yes, indeed I would. I mean, really a
(correction: not 18) 16 year old kid – wow, a 16 year old took down Visa and
Master card off line. Wow! That’s like a comic book hero. I’m cheering for that
kid. Do I agree with his approach? No. I’d be pissed if I was his parents but
deep down I’d also be proud that my kid is that intelligent. Now, just find him
a constructive medium to contribute his skills to the world and find him a
worthy cause and I bet he’ll be spectacular at anything he willingly gives his
heart to freedom of expression - because sooner than later we’ll need all the
young folks who consider themselves “The Gadget Generation” at least here in
America I’ve been told by the young (graduating class of 2008) that that’s what
they consider themselves as such.
I say, “Damn straight! Job well done!” and I
also have my hand on my hip because well he could have approached it
differently but that’s how I feel as a woman of the world. It’s a brave new
world out there and get hip to it, the next generation of consumers want fast and
free information and if you can’t provide, then move on over because the young
adults of the world are chomping at the bit to compete in a free market and
they will make it on their own because they believe in each other and in this
new medium of gadgets – but more importantly they believe in something that we
haven’t seen for generations, they believe in laughter and who can’t get behind
that – they see the absurd a mile away because frankly they’re that smart.
Watch out these young people are hot, hip and
to it and if you don’t know that then marketing, business and politics are just
not your thing. Youth have always had a heart of their own and nobody could
take that away from them along with their ideal of fairness and imagination.
Remember when you were 16 – you were probably on fire? Cheers for that!)
The greatest broadcast in the world is local
neighborhoods. One thing I’m certain of is that culture creates news, news
doesn’t create culture and that’s an example of the egg comes before the chicken.
Ha! Chiste. Broma. Broma. Joke. Funny. Funny. No. Oh well. I try.
Have a spectacular rocking weekend - it was
an exhausting news covered week.
I hope you find time for adventure and getting
out into your local neighborhoods even if it was just that knitting class you
thought about going to for five years but never quite got around to it.
Cheers!
Gabriela
P.S. If I have misspellings, incorrect
grammar and what not, well I’m trying to get better at that. That’s, the goal
of this blog, right? Right. Now, we understand each other. Ciao.
Source from Wikipedia
A matryoshka doll, or babushka doll is a Russian nesting doll which is a set of
dolls of decreasing sizes placed one inside the other. The word matryoshka
(матрёшка) is derived
from мать (mother); literally it means "dear (or
little) mother."
The first Russian nested doll set was carved in 1890 by Vasily Zvyozdochkin from a design by Sergey Malyutin, who was a
folk crafts painter in the Abramtsevo estate of the
Russian industrialist and patron of arts Savva Mamontov. The doll set was
painted by Malyutin himself. Malyutin's design was inspired by a set of
Japanese wooden dolls representing the Seven Lucky Gods. Malyutin's doll set
consisted of eight dolls—the outermost was a girl holding a rooster, six inner dolls
were girls, the fifth doll was a boy, and the innermost was a baby.
In 1900, Savva Mamontov's wife presented the dolls at the
World Exhibition in Paris, and the toy earned a bronze medal. Soon after,
matryoshka dolls were being made in several places in Russia.
December 9, 2010
“It is a great mitzvah to be happy always.” - Rabbi Nachman of Breslov
Happy Thursday!
Another day accomplished with a steady pace,
purpose and intent.
I channel surfed through major Television
news stations. I don’t normally watch the news but something caught my
attention. I saw a video clip of guards dressed in black and neon yellow vests
holding back an immense crowd of thousands.
I pressed un-mute and brought up the volume on
the remote control and listened to a European news story about students
protesting against the rise in educational costs. The news story reported that
forty thousand citizens showed up for this protest outside of a major
university in the United Kingdom while the university reviewed to pass an
increase in tuition.
I was stunned to watch the crowd nearest a
barricade of steel gates push the crowd behind them back because it seemed to
me that if they got too close to the gates then some of the guards would push
back by hitting the students and citizens with batons. I wasn’t shocked at the
guards’ behavior but I was shocked at the abuse I was seeing.
The citizens were many in that crowd but they
were peaceful and as careful as they could be not to upset the balance with the
guards. Students were interviewed with many different points of view. Many
spoke about the difficulties of paying for their educations, the increase in
the dropout rate because it meant that the working class would not be able to
afford their universities and studies. The overall consensus seemed to be that
many were outraged at the economical injustice that only those who can afford
an education can buy one.
I flipped the cannel and another news story
showed a clip of the White House Press Room and a man addressed the president’s
addiction to smoking cigarettes. He told the White House press that the
president didn’t like children or his children for that matter to know about
his smoking habit but it was something that he was dealing with.
I flipped the channel again and tuned into
another story about people’s e-mailed opinions to a major news station. The
e-mails read people’s sentiments about whether immigrants who came to the
United States as children have the right and a chance at citizenship. People
had wide ranges in points of view.
I flipped the channel for the last time and I
saw a clip of two men debating the pros and cons of WikiLeaks as freedom of
speech. One made the point that WikiLeaks is a modern form of picket-fence politics
and citizen’s right to that freedom of speech while the other man made the
argument that it was counter-intuitive to freedom of speech and if citizens
came up with more creative on-line ideas like creating new ways to spread
WikiLeaks than that would be more productive to freedom of speech.
I thought for many moments what all of this
information meant. Many valid and none valid ideas came to mind, but the most
prominent one was this: I hoped that our soldiers in the Middle East understood
that their American citizens and world citizens fight wars every day.
I wondered what kind of courage it takes to
fight across an ocean in an unseen war. A war of fanatic religious terrorists
who hide out in caves while the American Citizens fight economical hikes in
lifestyle, education and health care against corrupt politics.
I wondered if they know that their citizens
suffer as much and in-as many different ways as our soldiers have in the course
of this war. Our soldiers are citizens with families, children and the elderly
and when they return if they so survive this war – then what kind of a life
will they return to and will it be worth the fighting they so courageously give
their lives for? Will their children have education and their elders’ health
care? I would wonder this as any soldier might.
This America of ours has been at war for nine
painful years and the outcome seems the same.
The average teacher in the Midwest makes
thirty grand a year and that’s on the high end for many rural areas. Education
isn’t about teaching any more it carries the heavy burden in the responsibility
of teaching, disciplining and carrying for the wellbeing of our country’s
children.
While parents are working to keep a roof over
their heads and food on their tables, their children suffer a high quality of
lifestyle from the lack of parenting in many homes, neighborhoods, communities,
regions, states and our overall country. It’s not easy for the working class to
provide anymore, so economical slaves have been created through their
lifestyles while professional athletes, corporations and economical
institutions make billions upon billions of dollars squeezing so hard that the
entire system can’t seem to think on its own.
I wondered if our soldiers know that while
they fight a war, that - very few citizens seem to understand what the war
means today while in turn dealing with huge economical rises in lifestyle and
living costs while corruption of any type takes over and breeds greed.
I wondered if our soldiers give a damn whether
or not the President of the United States smokes cigarettes especially with so
many larger problems going on in the world.
As far as I see it the president is a grown
man and if he wants his smoking habit to be kept under a tight lid then by all means.
Americans seem to be on a huge bandwagon against smoking but rarely do they
seem to understand that significance of fighting for something greater like
getting free public health care and free education implemented into our system
and way of life.
Why hasn’t the body of American citizens made
National Heath Care and Education free? That’s a question I would have to ask
if I were a soldier risking all of my freedoms for my country. That’s a
question that I have to ask as any citizen with our soldiers across the sea.
I figure when the citizens pass laws towards
billions and I mean trillions of dollars implemented into free National Health
Care and National Education then we can criticize the president for privately
smoking on his own time. Seriously, why do we get distracted by shallow and
shinny news rather than real stories being told that truly affects a larger
body of citizen rather than a story about the President? What adults do on
their own private time is their own, is it not? I’m not into policing people
and neither are most citizens because the world is vastly and significant.
I wondered, is the government really going to
throw out all of the illegal immigrant children who came to the United States
even though they’ve contributed peacefully to their communities and the overall
economy even though they have not paid taxes?
Are we really going to turn our backs on the
very foundation of this great country of ours? Wow, we have another thing
coming if we are such a cursed society to be so hypocritical, thriving upon
double standards and having no respect for our traditional cultural heritage
that which makes us so great is that we are open minded even if we don’t agree
with our neighbors, politicians and leaders. We can have a great significant
change but it first begins with grown adults who understand the very plight of
others. With compassion comes understanding and with understanding then comes
change.
What are our soldiers coming back to?
Gabriela
December 8, 2010
“If only we'd stop
trying to be happy we could have a pretty good time.” - Edith Wharton
Happy Wednesday!
The week’s flying by, already.
It’s 6:11 A.M; the early morning sky was
bright with riveting clouds lined up in intervals like skid marks in the sky. I
could do nothing but look at the morning sky because it was truly and
magnificently cold and crisp clean out.
I’m ready for the long haul of a Minnesota
winter.
I expect it to get colder out still yet and the
excitement of this season makes me feel sentimental, blessed and more blessed.
I like this time of year for no other reason that the city of Minneapolis and
their crews sets out in placing lights throughout the city and at dusk all of
the colored little lights makes the city seem warm and full of hope. It’s
simple and significantly different than the rest of the year when the lights
are down.
I look forward to making small gift bags for
our eleven nephews and nieces through marriage and our friend’s children. I
look forward to making gift bags in the winter and spring. Eric and I find the
goofiest little wind-up toys, stickers and candy for our nephews and nieces and
the children in our lives. It’s nothing fancy but we love shopping for these
little gifts.
I think that gifts are a funny thing. As
adults in our family we don’t really do gifts except for the elders unless we
happen to make a gift or find something truly special throughout the year. I
don’t feel obligated to buy gifts for friends and family and I never want to. I
like to make or find gifts that - specifically reminds me of that person.
The idea of a gift makes me stop and consider
many other peoples. I like Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and Chinese New Year. I like
watching people have very different ideas and traditions on how to bring in the
New Year. Another year is not yet over but we’re winding down from a long year
of life.
New beginnings, new goals, wishes and
aspirations are fun to think about. I like the sense of starting fresh again.
The thought, that new things could be accomplished and that the world is truly
a significantly interesting place to live in. No, not everything has been said
or done before. I don’t believe that – not for one single moment. There’s
always the possibility of creating more hope, newer technologies and sincerely
new approaches will be applied because what is there to lose, but fear.
I’m wishing you a spectacular Wednesday.
Much requires full consideration and
eventually a little siesta sometime this afternoon.
Gabriela
Source from
Wikipedia
Hanukkah (Hebrew: חֲנֻכָּה, Tiberian: Ḥănukkāh,
nowadays usually spelled חנוכה pronounced [χanuˈka] in Modern Hebrew, also romanized as Chanukah or Chanuka), also known as the Festival of Lights is an eight-day Jewish holiday commemorating
the rededication of the Holy Temple (the Second Temple) in Jerusalem at the
time of the Maccabean Revolt of the 2nd century BCE. Hanukkah is observed for
eight nights and days, starting on the 25th day of Kislev according to the
Hebrew calendar, which may occur at any time from late November to late
December in the Gregorian calendar.
The festival is observed by the kindling of the lights of a
unique candelabrum, the nine-branched Menorah
or Hanukiah, one additional
light on each night of the holiday, progressing to eight on the final night.
The typical Menorah consists of 8 branches with an additional raised branch.
The extra light is called a Shamash (Hebrew: שמש, "attendant" or
"sexton") and is given a distinct location, usually above or below
the rest. The purpose of the Shamash
is to have a light available for use, as using the Hanukkah lights themselves
is forbidden.
Hanukkah: December 1-9, 2010
Kwanzaa is a weeklong celebration
held in the United States honoring universal African heritage and culture,
observed from December 26 to January 1 each year. It features activities such
as the lighting of a kinara and libations, and
culminates in a feast and gift giving. It was created by Ron Karenga and was
first celebrated from December 26, 1966 to January 1, 1967.
Maulana
Karenga created Kwanzaa in 1966 as the first specifically African American holiday.
Karenga said his goal was to "give Blacks an alternative to the existing
holiday and give Blacks an opportunity to celebrate themselves and history,
rather than simply imitate the practice of the dominant society.” The name
Kwanzaa derives from the Swahili phrase matunda
ya kwanza, meaning first fruits of the harvest. The choice of Swahili,
an East African language, reflects its status as a symbol of Pan-Africanism,
especially in the 1960s.Kwanzaa is a celebration that has its roots in the
black nationalist movement of the 1960s, and was established as a means to help
African Americans reconnect with their African cultural and historical heritage
by uniting in meditation and study of African traditions and Nguzu Saba, the "seven
principles of blackness" which Karenga said "is a communitarian
African philosophy".
Kwanza: Sunday, December 26, 2010
Chinese New Year, Lunar New Year, or Spring Festival
is the most important of the traditional Chinese holidays. It is often
inaccurately called "Lunar New Year", because - as part of the lunisolar Chinese calendar – the date is partially determined based on
lunar phase. The festival traditionally begins on the first day of the first
month (Chinese: 正月; pinyin: zhēng yuè)
in the Chinese calendar and ends with Lantern Festival which is on the 15th
day. Chinese New Year's Eve, a day where Chinese families gather for their
annual reunion dinner, is known as chú
xī (除夕). It literally means "Year-pass Eve".
Within China, regional customs and traditions concerning
the celebration of the Chinese New Year vary widely. People will pour out their
money to buy presents, decoration, material, food, and clothing. It is also the
tradition that every family thoroughly cleans the house to sweep away any
ill-fortune in hopes to make way for good incoming luck. Windows and doors will
be decorated with red colour paper-cuts and couplets with popular themes of
“happiness”, “wealth”, and “longevity”. On the Eve of Chinese New Year, supper
is a feast with families. Food will include such items as pigs, ducks, chicken
and sweet delicacies. The family will end the night with firecrackers. Early
the next morning, children will greet their parents by wishing them a healthy
and happy new year, and receive money in red paper envelopes. The Chinese New
Year tradition is a great way to reconcile; forgetting all grudges, and
sincerely wish peace and happiness for everyone.
Although the Chinese calendar traditionally does not use
continuously numbered years, outside China its years are often numbered from
the reign of the Yellow Emperor, Huangdi. But at least three different years numbered
1 are now used by various scholars, making the year 2010 "Chinese
Year" 4708, 4707, or 4647.
Chinese New Year:
February 3, 2011
December 7, 2010
“Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.” - Abraham Lincoln
(Continued from September 20, 2010 Blog):
Part II:
A Life Worth Living:
I sat in a traffic jam at 2:30 in the morning
while trying to head back to my friend’s birthday party when a young woman in a
tight and short black dress knocked on my car window.
I took all of her existence into
consideration in a split second and rolled down my car window. “If I offer you
some money will you drive my friend and me home? We’ll pay for gas.” She
fumbled through her purse, “I’ll pay you forty dollars to drive us home.” She
looked at me and gave me a pleading look. I looked at her and her friend. They
were two young white women much too young to be asking a stranger for a lift
home. Not once did I smell fear or a threat on their skin but I did smell
expensive perfume and liquor.
I wondered, ‘if they can pay a stranger for a
ride home, then why not just hail down a cab as most metropolitan women do?’
I did smell confusion, a light desperation
and sincerity so I told them, “sure, why not?” The money had nothing to do with
a ride home rather I had to make a serious consideration for two young women in
practically nothing, except high heels and purses.
I understood.
I understand the need to be feminine in this
modern era.
I unlocked my car doors and the two young
women in their expensive high heels and hand bags got in.
They told me their names and I told them
mine. “How are you?”
Immediately they got on their expensive cell
phones and started screaming into their phones at what I could only imagine
were the men in their lives who’d left them stranded downtown Minneapolis. The
young lady in the black short dress sitting in the front cupped her phone and
turned to look at me for the second time, “Thank you. Thank you so much.” She
turned back to her phone and she continued to scream into it. It was apparent
to me that she was in her twenties – her voice gave her age away.
My ears ringed while she screamed and I
thought, ‘I’m not going to make-it back to the party nor to my friends
tonight.’ I was right. That situation and experience required a great deal of
energy. The type of energy that is only reserved for the young when they are
faced with intrinsic difficulties.
{Side Note: Our environments sometimes can seem harsh, judgmental and in need
of a wakeup call. “In World War II,” my dear friend once told me, “the number
one item, women bought was a single tube of bright red lipstick to bring up
morale in the country.” I was struck in the heart when she said this to me because
many women at that time could barely afford the food on their tables and a roof
over their heads while their men were off at war, especially those living in
cities. I understood why women did the many things they do even if it may
sometimes seem frivolous to others, one thing women have never forgotten to do
throughout their ancestries is how to paint themselves for life.
As an adult woman I don’t play dress-up
anymore. I dress for purpose, intent and what the situation requires or calls
for and my friends understand that I’m no longer a little girl in high heels
but a grown woman on stilts. There is indeed a time and a place for everything
and reverence for the female form has never gone out of style. Okay, so I’m
down from a feminist soap box, but more on feminist theory some other time on
some other blog, because I was recently told that “Women of color don’t seem to
understand the concept of Feminist Theory.” I laughed, that was just too absurd
not to laugh at.
There are many types of women, although the
only thing is this: If you’re going to travel through any jungle then carry
gear, it’ll make the journey a hell of a lot more fun and comfortable. I’ll
skateboard to any night club in town because well frankly I can travel lightly
and quietly in and out of any situation. That’s called being an adult – you
take care of yourself, even if frankly you get a little tired along the journey
– you always find a way to get in and out of any jungle. Period. That’s any
adult’s sole responsibility, with the beauty and exception that the whole world
is a public place in this modern era – we are never alone.}
I’m responsible but not without boundaries –
that’s the greatest gift at being a good friend to oneself and I love to travel
alone because like any citizen of the world everyone has the right to
peacefully live and to survive in public.
I didn’t know what it all meant, but I did
have to shrug my right shoulder into myself and giggle a little. I thought it
was all so incredibly absurd and funny to find myself in such a predicament.
Although, I did think: ‘These are somebody’s children. Oh, boy I’m becoming a
mature adult.’ I kept giggling until we hit the second red light then I took a
short cut and headed back to Uptown through “Eat Street”. I cut across town and
drove to the freeway to a place called Hopkins. ‘What? Where on Earth am I
going?’ I wondered.
After the yelling subsided on both cell lines
then the brunette in the front seat began whining to the blond in the back and
said “Where were you? Why did you leave me all alone?” The blond girl sat
quietly with a menacing look on her lips and gave a stare that could’ve killed
any soul and I tried not to look at her too often through the rearview mirror.
She was ready to strike a deadly emotional blow at the back of her friend’s
head but she held the tension there without moving a muscle or really answering
any of the questions her friend proposed.
“No, I just…We just went to…I needed to…We
had to…” She didn’t quite formulate any real answers.
I was curious. I wanted to know also. Why had
she had a need to get away from her friend?
“You just left me. Why?” The girl in the
front seat continued to whine. It was obvious that there was a bond between the
two but neither wanted to take responsibility for the friendship. It was all
quite so tragic, really.
The girl in the backseat started playing with
her phone she didn’t give a damn about any of it much less her friend who was
asking for a lifeline of any kind. I wasn’t sure which one was worse the mean
spirited one or the one whining.
The young woman in the front seat turned to
me and asked, “Why do my friends treat me like this?”
I didn’t answer her. I wasn’t sure if she was
really asking me a real question to ponder over or if it was simply a
rhetorical exercise.
She asked again, “Why are my friends so
mean?”
I looked at her while I drove down the
freeway, “Because they don’t respect you.” I looked back to the road. She got
very quiet. “I need a good friend. I need a friend.”
I felt for her because we all need good
friends.
“I don’t get it. I make good money. I work
hard. I’m nice and I’m good to my friends.” She began to cry and got
frustrated. I felt slightly weepy at her sadness. She was a human who deeply
hurt in the most sincere of places in her humanness and her friend in the
backseat could not put down her cell phone and pay direct attention to the
burden, the cry for help and the need to be heard by her friend. I wasn’t
shocked in the least bit it was like watching a teen flick. This is what they
think friendships are supposed to be played out like some character in some
poorly directed movie made for Television.
She fumbled through her oversized leather bag
and looked for something, took her high heels off and said to me, “I’m hungry.”
The young woman in the back continued to give me verbal directions to their
neighborhood. I pulled off into a Hopkins and continued to drive. Eventually we
drove into a residential section and I pulled over. “Are you really hungry?” I
asked. “Yes.” Was the short answer.
I turned off the car, popped the trunk open
went through my backpack and pulled out a large clear bag with a complete loaf
of whole wheat organic bread I had baked earlier in the day and two apples. I
handed the bag over to her and she began to devour the bread. “Oh, this is
really good.” She told me through a mouth full of bread. I smiled a shy smile
at her compliment.
“Where are you from?” she looked over at me
while continuing to eat bread. I turned the engine on and took more directions.
“From a place in Central America. Costa
Rica.” She sat silently.
“Did you go to school around here?” More
directions from the backseat.
“I went to school in the East Coast and then
to the University of Iowa in Iowa City.”
All I heard was complete and full silence for
five seconds until both young women exploded into a monologue each and then a
dialogue and back to fully synchronized monologues. All I could gather was that
they had both attended the University of Iowa in Iowa City as well.
All three of us relaxed for the first time in
the car. We exhaled. We had found something profoundly in common.
I heard the blond say, “Really?” in a high
squeaky voice. Her voice broke and I understood her implications. She was
questioning my word. Had I really attended the precious University of Iowa?
Yes, really people of color who aren’t into football do attend universities
also. Yes, we can learn to like the sport, even if we’re complete geeks, also.
“Really.” I said and looked at her through
the rearview mirror and she caught my eye for the first time since she’d gotten
into my car. She didn’t believe me, so I said “Go Hawkeyes!” I was mocking her
slightly whether she knew it or not but she did because she knew that she was
riding in a stranger’s car and I had nothing against her except that I’ve given
her no reason to question my life to that point.
“Wow, we all went to the same college.” The
young brunette woman was sincerely astonished.
She turned to me and held my hand. I held
hers for no other reason that she was truly human. She wiped her tears. “Will
you be my friend?” She earnestly asked me. “Can we get together for coffee
every week? Can we be friends?”
“Yes.” Is all I could muster and I left it at
that.
We pulled into a large half rotunda driveway.
The blond said quick thanks and hopped out of the car and fled into the house.
The brunette got out came to the other side of the car and placed her bag on
the ground. “Will you come in with me?” I said I would, but I first wanted to
stretch my legs and take a moment to myself. She wanted to wait with me. We sat
down on top of a hill on soft early morning dew grass.
I breathed deeply – there was nothing else to
do but to breathe and laugh. We laughed and spoke like two grown adult women
sharing feminine wardrobe secretes and fashion sense. For an hour and a half
she was a good friend to me and I was a good friend to her. She shivered and I
told her repeatedly five times to please go inside and take care of herself. I
had lent her my sister’s coat and she continued to shiver in her bare legs. “My
purse,” She’d asked concerned “where is my bag?” I helped her walk down the
hill barefoot and we walked back to my car with my windows rolled down and
there on the ground where she had left her bag I picked it up and handed it to
her. “Oh, right. Thank you. Thank you. You will come in, right?”
I promised that I would.
She went inside and all I could do was take
my skateboard and helmet out of the trunk and take the good old girl for a ride
around that perfectly paved neighborhood at four in the morning. What else was
a woman to do but play?
No, I didn’t make it back to my friends, nor
did I make new friends nor was I looking to make new friends that night but my
time and energy were sucked up like a cheap paper towel at times. The girl in
the tight black dress tried to soak up her life with my wisdom, knowledge and
ability to reach out to her. She needed, she wanted she, she, she…was incredibly
important and I was her emotional hostage even when her man spoke to me like a
child once I entered the house to say goodbye. The more he continued to
question if I was okay with myself the more I questioned if he had left his
manners and manliness back on some beer spilled – peed on sidewalk. What the
hell? I had picked up his responsibility on the sidewalk that he so deserted.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
He asked me three times in a matter of ten
minutes if I was okay and I thought ‘I’ve only had one drink tonight’ and
wondered if ‘HE-WAS-OKAY’ or just a little insecure to have a woman do his work
for him. ‘Oh, boy,’ I thought ‘you got a lot to learn about women’ and kept it
to myself. After all had been said and done in the course of one night I was
still a guest and I had no place to mock him in his own home, but I did reserve
all the right in the world as a woman to question him as a man.
So I asked him, “Are you sure YOU’RE feeling
okay?” He didn’t like my question because he didn’t expect me to question his
silly ideal of his self-made melodramas and concocted notions of authority. He
wanted to question everything about me but he had no right when his woman and
he – himself, had asked of another to put themselves in a vulnerable situation
to enter any stranger’s life and domestic difficulties – this was not like
being in public.
I was ready to leave hours ago and so I made
my last attempt without being rude.
I gathered my belongings except for two items
the brunette woman had used in a privileged stupor. She had carelessly taken my
two belongings into another room and I was too shy to ask for my belongings
back because it seemed so unimportant in that moment and all I wanted and
needed to do was to get out and get a fresh breath of air.
I went home without my sister’s jacket and my
journal that night. I was greatly saddened by this but not broken – there are
far more significant things going on in life. I only hope that those items will
serve as two reminders to this young woman that she had had a night – one night
in her life where a stranger female had been a good friend to her for no other
reason than to be human to her. She deserved that much and I gave of myself
willingly. I shall never forget her and her outcries against humanity because
to her it was all too real and so the injustice was real in the world because
she breathed it life and concern. Women struggle in this culture…I think that
women of color understand feminist theory all too well when we see the plight
of our white sisters.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
The early morning light was fantastic this
morning.
Many things require much attention. Ciao.
September 20, 2010
“There
are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth...not going all the way,
and not starting.” (Hindu Prince Gautama
Siddhartha, the founder of Buddhism, 563-483 B.C.)
Part I:
A Life Worth Living:
I rounded a corner to a major downtown
Minneapolis club scene less than a mile from 7th Street Entry.
I came to a complete stop on a bike-lane
where the valets were flying by – coming and going.
These men were athletic and beautiful to
watch like a masculine ballet.
The light changed and traffic stood at-an-all
time stand-still in all directions.
By the time I left downtown it was already
2:30 A.M.
I’d dropped Eric off at home and changed into
outdoor gear.
Earlier in the evening I’d left the house for
a birthday celebration in high-heels, pants, a long sleeve shirt and red lipstick.
I felt powerful and tranquilla so I wore the stilts.
{We had an amazing time and warmly sat by a fire and spoke to
complete strangers about veganism, clothes, make-up, shoes and radical
self-expression. The food, the people and their considerations were warm and
kind in gesture. The men wore outdoor clothing, ready for anything the weather
brought them and the women wore “radical” outfits. I mean to say, they looked
sexy, confident and in control yet soft, sophisticated and kind around the eyes.
I could do nothing but look at the floor while I walked past them. I understood
there was some serious power in that house yet serene and peaceful. As long as
I held my ground I stood upon my bit of Earth and I knew that no one would
purposely disturb it because they were all World Citizens. I felt that I was
being held up by something stronger than myself and that no harm would come our
way anytime soon as we inhaled and exhaled a gorgeous September night. The
people were all so different and beautiful and the men were practical, handsome
and also kind around the eyes. The men attended to the fire outside and we ate
fried chicken, chips, salsa, chocolatitos and chocolate cup cakes. Beers all
around, liquor that I had no idea how to
mix and wine that had radical labels on them but I couldn’t tell you what they
were because I just like looking at the art.}
I’d gone back home and took some time to put
myself together for the following outdoor adventure that would go early into the
morning. I went home and packed the following: A skateboard and helmet. H20
bottle and an extra warm pair of socks. A heavy coat, my homemade bread, two
apples, a banana and a Swiss Army Knife.
A "hoody", a leather jacket three
long sleeve shirts and my journal, a great pen, a hand bag, and a music player.
Phone and I.D.
Mi esposo gently and lightly kissed me on the
lips.
I kissed him back and we had all of the trust
in the Universe between us.
“I’ll see you for breakfast.” He said to me
and I smiled from ear to ear.
I’m a married woman, but by no means is my
master a leash.
{We took sacred vows till the end of us. I
believe in ethics, morals, and values of the highest spiritual form.
I believe that anybody can believe only what
is right for them. I do not judge partnerships, because who am I to judge what
is love, respect and admiration amongst perfect strangers unless people go out
of their way to disturb balance, peace and order because they are insecure,
afraid and malcontent.}
“If you’re not lookin’ then you’re not dead.”
A young woman I’ve gotten to know (over the past year and a half) and who I
happen to like very much said to me while we stood outside. I’ve only met her
four times in my entire life but I could freely hand over my heart to her in
friendship. I could hand it over to her heart because she is truly a kindred
spirit. I laughed out loud at her saying and thought it perfect.
“I like to look. The people who are the
greatest survivors of their environments are hot.” I wanted to say to her but I
wasn’t sure if that was a weird thing to say to another woman of the world. I
knew that she would have understood but I held my tongue anyway.
“How can I not look? You’re right. I’m not
dead.” I kept smiling because I thought that she was truly funny with her long
arms for limbs and I thought:
{This woman is so amazing I’d love for her to
find herself a partner that will rock her world inside and out – a partner who
has her best interest at heart for her and only for her and not what she can
offer them or what she could potentially provide a partner with a lifestyle. I
want her for my friend till the end of our lives. I have to go slow because we
have a long journey ahead of us and even if she fails me I will be her Sam.
That’s my nature with the ones I love and they aren’t many by choice. I respect
the whole world of humanity and I know the stories of people but just as every
other human - hopefully, understand is that when you meet another woman – you, meet a girl in the
world that you know you could tell her all of your secrets to each other and
you know that your heart will be taken care of; tenderly and guarded for all of
time. That’s the kind of woman she is and I am in love as in Anne of Green
Gables in love like Anne Shirley and Dianna Berry’s friendship. Yes, I know…
I’m old fashioned. Oh, I love a good ending to any film or story because I know
all too well that suffering occurs every moment of everyday and so does she.}
Anyway, I’m slow at writing the events of
that night because my mind doesn’t wander it wonders.
I was downtown stuck in traffic by a great
mistake – I took what I thought would be a short cut but I got turned around in
all the one ways. I wasn’t in any real great hurry but I did want to make it
back to my friend and her outdoor birthday party. I had taken a great detour
earlier in the night there was something that I needed to do alone and I had
done it.
I had left home and headed for the 500’s on
Washington Avenue and ended up turned around – like I said.
I’d read on social media that a DJ whose
musica has only hovered over my head three times in my life was spinning in a
downtown club. I’d never heard of the club until that night. I had no idea how
to even enter the building with an incredible layout of partitioning.
I took my 2 X 4 with me and we headed for the
club. By the time I got there it was around 1:20 A.M. or so.
I talked to the bouncers out back. They got
on my board and we all laughed about that. I asked, “Is it too late to still
grab a drink?”
“Come with me.” The one bouncer in charge
with an Eastern European accent said to me and I followed. He grabbed all of
the outdoor table umbrellas; I got around him and opened the backdoor for him.
We entered the top level of a three tiered bar and not the building - he took
my skateboard out of my hands and placed it behind a hostess station. “No one
will touch it here.” And I believed him because everything about his demeanor
said – power of strength, agility and smarts. I would not want to ____ with him
under any circumstances and I knew that he was an alpha male and I liked him
immediately. He had a nice clean shinny smell under a long night of working
sweat and I could trust his smell a mile away. I just could – he was a decent
sort of chap.
Quickly he made his way across the floor and
led me behind a curtain where three musicians played their instruments. He
turned around and left.
I moved to my left and sat on the top step
and thought, “No, no, no. This is not a DJ. Where is the booming coming from?”
I thought I could hear a heartbeat of beats coming from the walls.
So I went back into the bar, stood by a door
and got my bearings, I went through an exit door, up some stairs and into a
hallway that lead me back into the bar again. “What the hell?” I thought. It
was a challenge and I had to figure out how to get to the core of the musica. I
set out on foot. I went back through the curtain and down some concrete steps
past the three musicians on my right and the sound man on my left and rounded
the bar and stepped outside. There. I was at the side of the building.
I walked out onto Washington Avenue and took
a right past young people hanging out on the street.
I entered a bar with huge flat screen T.V.’s
and dancers on the Tele with future-ristic astronaut looking outfits. The bar
was positioned smack on the middle of the floor in a high ceilinged room. I
ordered a drink and asked, “Where is the music coming from?” The bartender
tells me it’s from the T.V.’s. “No.” I think. The T.V.’s do not hold the kind
of base I’m hearing with my surround sound little ears. “Where is the music
coming from?” I asked him again point blank. He mumbled something. He tells me
to take a left at the door and then I didn’t hear the rest but one thing was
certain I was not to take my drink with me. So I took one sip and placed the
drink on the bar and let it go.
I went back out to my left, up the stairs to
a heavy steel-locked door directly in front of me and another to my left – I
turned back around and went back to the bartender.
“Where is the music coming from?” I asked him
again and this time I meant business.
“From outside.” He answered me and met my
gaze. I trusted him as I would any stranger enough to give me directions to
where I need to go especially when he’s a stranger working in any
establishment.
Okay, so outside, again, I went. It was a
maze in there and I love it!
I went outside and asked a man standing
amongst his friends, “Where is the music coming from?”
“This door, right, here.” And he pointed at
it.
“You’re lovely.” I told him.
I went through the door. The bouncer didn’t
even look at me twice but he was kind around the eyes also.
I entered and turned immediately to my right
and then immediately to my left and down a long and dark stairwell lit purple.
I was intrigued and totally excited because the closer I got to the musica the
closer I got to being completely free in the same manner I feel while I’m on my
board. Exactly, the same attitude in emotion.
The base got stronger and I entered a room
lit by purple-pink light. I rounded a left and then a straight long passageway
past the two bathrooms to my right and entered a scene.
I was mesmerized by three beautiful young
women on three different platforms half-naked with beautiful athletic bodies as
they danced. They, too, were like ballerinas in some rock and roll modern
ballet.
I wanted to gawk at their feet for rhythm and
ability so I did.
I meandered through the dance floor with my
hands down and as soon as I saw the DJ I bowed my head as I do with anything
that calls for respect in other words anybody creating something from nothing
because I think about the first cavemen who figured out fire and what an
extraordinary moment that must’ve been for humanity. So, when I see people
creating something from nothing then I know that they, too, have had those
moments of extraordinary measures.
I don’t know the DJ but I like their musica.
It creates movement in my body and that’s all the reality I need to know.
Inspiration is difficult to come by and this artist can create inspiration in
others. That’s real power.
So I took my fifteen layers of sweaters off
and I showed a little shoulder with laze.
I liked that I had changed back into tennis
shoes rather than the stilts.
I danced as much as I could follow a beat and
turned my back to the DJ because my energy was with me while I danced. I needed
my energy for dancing and not for ____________. I loved their music so I
respected it by not staring at the DJ even though that’s all that I wanted to
do. I wanted to watch their hands fly.
I saw couples and people being sexy, having
fun and "chillin’". I chilled amongst them, too, and I played. I
laughed and I wanted to explore some more but the bar was about to close. Here
they close all too early. It’s not like the Central American bar scene where
you don’t leave the house until twelve or one in the morning and roll in around
breakfast time at six.
The light is getting golden this afternoon.
It’s time to grab my camera and head outside.
I’ll see you when I see you.
I’ll finish this blog post some other time.
Much Respect.
Gabriela
P.S. May you be guided and intrigued enough
to follow wherever the music is coming from in any public setting.
Cheers!
December 6, 2010
“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” - Buddha
December 3, 2010
“If you want to be
happy, set a goal that commands your thoughts, liberates your energy, and
inspires your hopes.”
- Andrew Carnegie
December 2, 2010
“Optimist: Person who travels on nothing from nowhere to happiness.” - Mark Twain
Thursday,
much needs to be accomplished before the end of today and I’m glad to do it.
At
around six o’clock this morning I was thinking about the concept of “trying”.
What’s
so important about “trying” anything new, a challenge or a personal goal?
Nothing
much.
Except
that with “trying” it seems that we learn the value of confidence, an open mind
and self-respect even if we don’t know how to approach anything unknown to us.
When
I first arrived to Minnesota on August of 1987 at the age of ten I already
found the late summer air cold.
I
shivered and ran under cover for a sweater or a blanket anytime I could. I was
mortified the moment I stuck my little hand out the car window when we drove
from Minneapolis to Duluth on 35W. The airplane ride had almost given me a
heart attack alone and my sister cried for five hours straight. I was more
terrified than I had ever been in my life. I sat still very still in fear of
upsetting any natural order and balance in the world.
I
knew in my heart that the cold would be my greatest challenge and a personal
goal to overcome its frigid stillness.
That
first winter my sister and I would bundle up and go outside and make snow caves
which kept us insolated until the cold was too unbearable then we’d go inside
for hot chocolate. To get through those first four winters every time I
shoveled our walk and my grandfather’s walk I would daydream that I was a
dogsledder and that I was on a wild survival adventure with my dogs through the
Alaskan wild. My goal was to shovel my team of dogs and our camping gear out of
an avalanche. It worked, soon after I forgot about the cold and got my body
temperature up to a comfortable sweat.
I
never much understood the wild adventures portrayed by Jack London. I used to
look at all of the pictures and try to piece together the storyline of his
character’s wild adventures. I didn’t wish to be like them I just liked the
pictures and got lost in their illustrations. The book that I looked at smelled
like dust and I loved it for that reason alone.
The
winter of 1988 I entered a grade school skating contest. The goal was to skate
really fast around a rink three times. I did it. I could barely stand on skates
and I was awkward but I thought, ‘hey, what’s the worst that could happen?’ I
could fall down but that was about the only thought I had. I went around and
around and then I finished by crossing a blue line marked on the ice. I looked
back and I realized that none of my classmates were behind me. I only really
knew that I had won a blue ribbon by default because someone told me that I
had. I remember the tremendous joy of trying to stand on skates. I remember it
so well like it was yesterday.
A
speed skating coach approached my parents and asked if they had ever considered
speed skating as a sport for their daughter. No, they hadn’t until that day. We
went home and discussed it – the pros and cons. I really wasn’t sure what it
was about and if I wanted to “speed skate” but we signed me up for one season
of practices and a season of travel and competing. I didn’t know what my
coaches were talking about when they talked about technique. I could barely
speak English and all I could do was imitate what others showed me to do with
their physical form but I wasn’t flexible and I felt awkward.
That
first winter revolved around early morning and late night practices which left
me with frostbitten toes and fingers. I didn’t know how to dress for outdoor
practices. My fingers and toes would burn and then go numb and then turn white.
By the time I learned that any damage had set in it was much too late and to
this day my toes and fingers go completely white the moment I step outside in
severe cold weather. I’ll admit it’s uncomfortable but not unbearable.
I
tried to try.
I
did.
I
would practice, imitate and I did overcome the frigid stillness. The stillness
of hot is not the same as the stillness of cold – not to me. Both have a
different energy about them and how to move inside these temperatures much less
know how to athletically train in these temperatures are two different things.
I
gave it everything I had.
I
gave it all of my body except for one thing – my heart.
I
enjoyed the sport very much but I didn’t enjoy the travel for competition and
the cold.
Winning
for the sake of winning wasn’t a good enough reason to compete.
I
wanted more, but I didn’t know what.
I
did the only thing I knew what to do.
I
gawked in awe at all the other lady skaters.
What
else was there to do but to learn from the way they held themselves and why?
I
truly liked looking at the way the ladies held themselves, the way they
competed and the way they dealt with disappointment. I can’t say that all of
our opponents were fair and that all was nice and rosy on the ice. I met some
aggressive cheaters. I met women who pushed, shoved and who clipped the back of
our ice skates to create an unbalance in our skating.
It
didn’t matter to me. I wasn’t like them and I didn’t want to be like them but I
did have to skate amongst them.
I
didn’t care if I fell every time or if I lost, I just cared to be dealing with
the cold – that alone was my personal challenge and I loved hearing my Dada
cheering for me on the bleachers. My Father was the loudest parent and I loved
hearing his excited voice, so I’d skate fast. He made jokes that other parents
didn’t find funny but made me laugh while I was on the ice and so like I said,
I’d skate even faster or slower to joke with my good Father who got more
excitement from the sport than I did.
I
loved skating because my Father loved skating, but that wasn’t reason enough to
do it.
I
won by default. Really. I did.
Our
team made it to Nationals in 1994 and I was scared stiff at the competition,
needless to say.
I
was scared of their size, their new high tech fancy skates and their light blue
skating uniforms which seemed so much flashier and nicer than our team’s. These
women were amazons and I knew it, but all I could do was “try” because just
looking at the size of their thighs made me want to go home and hide.
I
had to “try” because I had gotten that far and what else was there to do on a
journey but to discover? I skated in that 1994 Nationals and I will never
forget the feeling I got when I gave it everything I had in that single moment
in life. I had given it all I had and so I quit the sport the day after
Nationals my sophomore year of High School and picked up literature and writing
for sport.
I
wasn’t necessarily lazy. I went to all of the practices, travelled with the
team, and I even wore a horrifyingly tight body suit for the whole world to see
the outline of my womanly body. I wore those funny looking long blades without
socks and I sucked it up and I was a good competitor – even though I always
questioned the competitive strategies of my contemporaries. I didn’t mind
falling and getting up and finishing a race last but I did mind the cold,
always.
The
lessons learned while I was in sports weren’t about how great I could be. I
didn’t even realize that it wasn’t my opponents that I had to beat but the clock.
I wasn’t a smart athlete because I never understood any of its strategies. I
was a kid who happened to be able to skate fast but I also loved chocolate,
movies and books more than I did early morning and late night practices.
I ran
on the cross country team for my local High School and almost always came in
last.
No,
not last in our high school – last; as in last out of all of the high schools
competing in the area. I wanted to be a better runner. I wanted to prove good
at the sport but my short little legs and my womanly body did not take well to
long distance running so I gave in and learned about limitations.
I
learned that I could park it in the woods and look at all of the species of
plants, flowers and grasses. I made crowns from flowers until my focus came to
and I realized that the first runner had already lapped me once and maybe even
twice and I knew I had to get running simply to finish the race for no other
reason than to be a good sportsman lady.
I
joined the team not because I was even a decent athlete but because I wanted to
know what others were up to. How did they handle themselves under pressure? How
did they deal with the hills, the boredom of training and the physical pain? I
should’ve just been on the school photography club instead of running and I
knew it and so did the coaches but year after year I wanted to be a part of
something exciting and so I tried to try for four years.
Thank
Gods my peers were not brutal and mean. They were decent folk trying their best
to overcome their own personal obstacles. I did look up to many of the captains
of the teams as my role models for no other reason that they tried so hard at
breathing life and spirit into the team. I liked them in their shinny and
excited faces, with funny looking running clothes and bright tennis shoes. I
didn’t know what any of it meant, but I liked it. It was like eating a
lollipop. What’s there not to like?
The
moral of my tale is this: I try for no other reason that this is life.
Frankly,
I’m not very good at many things because I let awkwardness get in the way. I
need time. Time to process. Time to think. Time to feel and time to adapt. I
just do.
I
don’t pretend to know what anything means but I try.
I
try because if I learned anything in my youth it was that trying triumphantly
won over all adversity.
As
independent producers we try to make the films “that we’d like to watch” as my
husband puts it.
We
make films because we try.
At
the age of thirty three our goals are never a disappointment because we try.
We
just received the news that we did not make it into the final one-hundred and
fifteen films going to an international film festival. No, don’t “Oh, that’s
too bad” at us because the thing is this: Our personal goal was to be noticed
and reviewed by someone outside of our local contemporaries, our colleagues and
our closest friends.
We
accomplished that goal and last night I went to bed with a smile on my face,
because there’s still no difference in wanting to choose a bar of chocolate
over the competition – I’m more of a Tortuga – I hate to be so straight forward
but that’s just it.
I
congratulate every entry that went out to this international film festival this
year and I’m honored to have met all of the qualifications and entry form
registry obligations – especially when we’re a small film operation – we’re as
small and as intimate as it gets, yet we have production year after year and
that is tried and true in overcoming obstacles much larger than any film
circuit.
We’ll
keep trying because we did not set out to make films to win awards - we set out
to make films that we’d like to watch and learn something about our society,
culture and peoples.
It’s
a good day when you know your limitations but you keep trying because you know
that there’s nothing else but just that.
I’m
wishing you an amazing day.
I’m
having a wonderful day and I need to continue on the road to meeting
responsibilities greater than myself.
Salud,
to you!
Gabriela
Source
from Wikipedia
Jack
London
On July 12,
1897, London (age 21) and his sister's husband Captain Shepard sailed to join
the Klondike Gold Rush. This was the setting for some of his first successful
stories. London's time in the Klondike, however, was detrimental to his health.
Like so many other men who were malnourished in the goldfields, London
developed scurvy. His gums became swollen, leading to the loss of his four
front teeth. A constant gnawing pain affected his hip and leg muscles, and his
face was stricken with marks that always reminded him of the struggles he faced
in the Klondike.
Father William
Judge, "The Saint of Dawson," had a facility in Dawson that provided
shelter, food and any available medicine to London and others. His struggles
there inspired London's short story, "To Build a Fire", which many
critics assess as his best. His landlords in Dawson were mining engineers
Marshall Latham Bond and Louis Whitford Bond, educated at Yale and Stanford.
The brothers' father, Judge Hiram Bond, was a wealthy mining investor. The
Bonds, especially Hiram, were active Republicans. Marshall Bond's diary
mentions friendly sparring with London on political issues as a camp pastime.
London left
Oakland with a social conscience and socialist leanings; he returned to become
an activist for socialism. He concluded that his only hope of escaping the work
"trap" was to get an education and "sell his brains." He
saw his writing as a business, his ticket out of poverty, and, he hoped, a
means of beating the wealthy at their own game. On returning to California in
1898, London began working deliberately to get published, a struggle described
in his novel, Martin Eden.
His first
published story was "To the Man On Trail", which has frequently been
collected in anthologies. When The
Overland Monthly offered him only five dollars for it—and was slow
paying—London came close to abandoning his writing career. In his words,
"literally and literarily I was saved" when The Black Cat accepted his story "A Thousand Deaths,"
and paid him $40 — the "first money I ever received for a story."
December 1st, 2010
“Knowledge of what is possible is the beginning of happiness.” - George Santayana
Wednesday
has arrived.
I picked
up a National magazine with the date on it November 29, 2010 on the upper right
corner and the title read, “Who Needs Marriage?”
I
read the article from top to bottom and when I closed the magazine the only
answer I could state out loud was, “I do. I need marriage.”
Throughout
the last six months I’ve been present to conversations about marriage and I’ve
listened to a homogenous group of white males discuss marriage as a negative
institution.
I’ve
noticed, that a particular homogenous group of white males, very rarely make
contact with other racial groups, elderly and children – especially those
outside of their economic background.
A
homogenous group of white males live in a bubble of culture that is idealist
but not always very realistic. I don’t feel one way or another about how people
choose to make decisions about their personal lives; nevertheless, I do
question as any thinking human does why there is so much dislike for the
“institution” of marriage and I think it’s because men and women don’t know how
to be good friends to one another.
I
had a male friend that I truly honor say to me, “Don’t you know, there’s a
movement that’s happening amongst men?”
I
didn’t know what he was talking about and I answered him earnestly, “No, I
don’t.”
“Men
are dissatisfied with women.” He told me and paused for my reaction.
I
saw the total seriousness in his face and immediately I knew not to laugh. The
statement was so loaded I found humor in it but it wasn’t meant to be funny.
His sentiments were true to him and I honored them, but I can’t say that I’ve
always been honored by him and immediately I emotionally withdrew from him
because; I know there to be a double standard between us especially when it
comes to social debate, intellectual discussion and respectful interaction
while debating.
He’s
been allotted his point of view many times and even still yet his emotional
whims but I’ve learned that he’s been quick to dismiss mine and so I’m cautious
and he knows it. He knows that the first time he dismissed me I lacked total
and full consideration for his arguments. His actions have proven to have
spoken louder for him than his words ever have. At times he has treated me
horribly and he’s allowed for his insecurities and malcontent in his life to
get the better of him. Nevertheless, he’s known just as I have when he’s
created an injustice between us because he lacked the maturity to be a
considerate grown man in relationship to me – in other words in relationship to
every other woman.
Every
time a man or woman is rude to me I think about their mothers, grandmothers and
great-grandmothers and the disservice these women have done unto the world.
Period.
Allow
for me to make a further point: When I see anybody treating others badly,
rudely and without any sentiment for all living organisms, I think about their
mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers. Period.
Furthermore,
I think about those who are civil, decent and calm and I also think about their
mothers, grandmothers and great-grandmothers doing the world a service of
creating and making upstanding citizens. Period.
I
didn’t have an opinion one way or another about men being dissatisfied with
women because it’s not my battle to fight and I’ve never really considered it
that way, anyway – not between men and women.
A
dissatisfaction with women, what does that mean? You’re dissatisfied with our
clothes, our smell, our hairdos our independence to think for ourselves? What,
you hate it that women don’t agree with you and a homogeneous world view? I
didn’t get it. I didn’t try.
His
statement was so loaded and unfounded on anything that all I could do was stand
there like a deer in the headlights. All I could do was ask myself, “What does
his statement mean and more so what does it imply for the overall of society?”
I
had many questions about his statement, alone, as I stood there looking for a
way to keep the peace between us. I wanted to prove a good friend to him and so
I stood there mute but nevertheless with a million questions running through my
head.
I
knew better, though. I stood there because; I know disrespect when I see it
coming. It’s like a curve ball and either you give it a good whack or you let
it pass by you when its coming furiously at you and its really intended to hit
you and harm you. I can see that mierda coming a mile away.
If
I’ve learned anything in the last year is that any homogenous group of men are
not to be questioned because they survive in a pack mentality full of lone
wolves. Do you know what a lone wolf looks like? An individual, who doesn’t
lead any pack, but will eat the leftovers of others, because he feels that he
has no choice but to meagerly survive. A homogenous pack of lone wolves are
sometimes not cofounded on anything but strong sentiments and emotions rather
than real debate and questioning.
I
stood silent because it was a test and not a discussion and I knew it as any
animal caught in a trap knows not struggle and tear away at the skin.
I
married for one reason and one reason alone - I married because my husband is a
great friend to me.
I
married because my husband is not a jealous, weak or a mean spirited man.
I
married because I fell in love and I believe in Eric’s humanity as much as he
believes in mine.
I
married my husband because I knew that I wanted to be with him till our graves
do us part and so shall be it. There is no stronger bond between those who
commit to any type of relationship especially friendship oppose to those who
don’t because they’re afraid that commitment means having the best interest for
the other. Wow, imagine putting someone else above you, your needs and
sentiments. Imagine!
It
seems that the trend is that many people think that there’s always something better
out there. A nicer pair of legs, a more exciting potential partner and more
adventure, but none of that seems real. I look forward to coming home at the
end of the day, day-after-day to my number one.
It’s
possible to have excitement in a committed relationship so long as you create
the sexiness, the excitement and the adventure on this journey. Eric and I
never have a boring day together, because we choose not to take each other for
granted. No, I’m not bragging because marriage is work and it’s a commitment to
be dedicated to being committed to each other.
Marriage
is not for cowards and neither are friendships with the opposite sex.
Correction:
Marriage is not for the uncommitted and neither are friendships with the
opposite sex.
Marriage,
alone will leave you on a deserted island and who needs that?
Friendship,
with the opposite sex will give you a vantage point that most others won’t.
I
never worry about Eric’s judgment because he is man enough to tell me if
something about me bothers him. I married a grown man who loves me
unconditionally. A man who doesn’t shun his female friends for social sport. A
man who understands all too well that men and women are different. A man who is
not dissatisfied with women because he is not afraid of them. Period. I married
because I got lucky in the way that love makes you lucky. The universe opens up
and the stars stand before you and you have all of the respect, dignity and
care for the other person – especially when dealing with all of the differences
in the sexes.
I
married my husband because he is a man with manners.
If
men are dissatisfied with women, then do not for one moment think that women
are not dissatisfied with rude men.
I
asked my husband, “Why are women threatening to their male friends?”
He
looked at me, “Because intelligent and beautiful women like yourself cock-block
them.”
I
understood perfectly well, I wasn’t a threat to my white male friends I was a
threat to their women so that gave my white male friends license to treat me
badly – (that’s not a man, that’s a child or possibly a man with his cajones
missing.)
If
that is true, then it seems to me that the dissatisfaction isn’t between men
and women it’s between women and women. Competition is more important than
other more honorable virtues such as trust, dignity, strength, questioning and
calling it for what it is when “The Emperor has no clothes.”
Why
do women hate each other so much in this culture?
If
we’re competing for something then I’d like to know what I’m competing for –
otherwise, I’m trekking along on a journey of this life.
I’ve
had four white male friends treat me like a piece of trash in front of or
because of their insecure white women and my heart has hurt for them more so for
their sakes than for mine. Think of it, these are honorable-incredible men who
take on malcontent women and become like them in behavior in exchange for sex,
a controlling partner and some sense of stability.
When
a man decides to be mean to their female friends, shun them and persecute them
because of their women, then that female friend knows the whole truth about
your life and they can choose to expose it at any moment but you know that they
won’t because you know that finding a nice female friend in the world is like
finding a ___.
Marriage
is not a dying institution for as long as we are married and every other person
who enters into it. It thrives as any other institution does that is founded on
love, life and death.
Dissatisfaction
does thrive in our culture but the argument is not because of marriage, rather
because we allow for the lowest common denominator of emotions to get in the
way of making sincere and honorable connections to the opposite sex.
We
allow for competition to rein over our fearful little hearts and so we dismiss
people because we know that we are too cowardly to ask a woman “Are you
unnecessarily worried?” Instead of making the statement and assumption that she
is “Unnecessarily worried.”
When
a man makes statements about a woman’s life, she ought not to be worried she
ought to be disappointed.
I
told my male friend this summer, “If you have the courage to ask me any
question then I will have the courage to answer it, truthfully.”
He
once said to me, “I’m surprised you came back after how horribly we’d treated
you.” I didn’t flinch I already knew the answer to that, “Lucky for you.” I
answered. “You’re so intelligent, otherwise I would’ve never come back.”
I
believe that intelligent people can change their behavior so I continue to be
his friend because I’m not disappointed in my white male friends only some of
their women who have a thirst for competition and my friends who take it as a
truth without any question. I choose not to play the game at all. I’ve been welcomed
and invited into a family that I trust and disagree with and until my white
male friends have the courage to tell me otherwise, I will be as I am – a
friend – a Sam to you as he was to Frodo.
I
wish you a great afternoon.
May
you not be dismissed so easily by those that you have emotional investment
towards them, especially when you’ve grown to love them as brothers. I don’t
understand my white male friends but I hope that my genuine interest for their
health, their loved ones’ health and my true love for their wellbeing is enough
and if it isn’t then we have far more serious problems in our society then
competition. A kick in the behind would prove nice from time to time – don’t
think that I don’t think about it.
Gabriela
P.S.
I have a lot of responsibilities to meet still yet.
Once
I’ve covered a subject I don’t normally cover it again – only, because it takes
too much energy “to-go-there” with subject matter. I’m learning to be a better
editor but the practice comes slow.
Source
from Wikipedia.
"The Emperor's New Clothes"
(Danish: Kejserens nye Klæder) is a short tale by Hans Christian
Andersen.
An Emperor who
cares for nothing but his wardrobe hires two weavers who promise him the finest
suit of clothes from a fabric invisible to anyone who is unfit for his position
or "just hopelessly stupid".
The Emperor
cannot see the cloth himself, but pretends that he can for fear of appearing
unfit for his position or stupid; his ministers do the same. When the swindlers
report that the suit is finished, they dress him in mime and the Emperor then
marches in procession before his subjects. A child in the crowd calls out that
the Emperor is wearing nothing at all and the cry is taken up by others. The
Emperor cringes, suspecting the assertion is true, but holds himself up proudly
and continues the procession.
"The
Emperor’s New Clothes" was first published with "The Little
Mermaid" in Copenhagen by C.A. Reitzel on 7 April 1837 as the third
and final installment of Andersen's Fairy
Tales Told for Children. The tale has been adapted to various media
including the musical stage and animated film.