July 31, 2012
“But I'm not an idiot. At the
end of the day, I've learned a lot.” - Karl Pilkington
“Comic books aren't nerdy.
You'd have to be an idiot to think computers are nerdy.” - Adam Broody
“Finish last in your league and
they call you idiot. Finish last in medical school and they call you doctor.” - Abe Lemons
“Galileo was no idiot. Only
an idiot could believe that science requires martyrdom - that may be necessary
in religion, but in time a scientific result will establish itself.” - David Hilbert
“A wise man writes down what
he thinks, a stupid man forgets what he thinks, a complete idiot punishes
himself for what he thinks.” - Jason Zebehazy
--- --- ---
Side note: No, I don’t forget a thing; but it sure makes for a
real great excuse in not having to write about something that I don’t want to
address or stalling. Ha! Ha! Ha! No, writers don’t forget a single thing! Damn
those writers!
---
--- ---
Happy Tuesday!
Aloha.
Shall we take to the dance floor?
---
--- ---
Don’t look back!
Do you know what happens when one looks back?
One turns into salt.
What a week! What a month! What a life!
“We’re
still married, also!” Ha! I love the title of that book as well as the book
itself.
Eric and I didn’t get divorced nor are we
considering divorce after this move. We’re still talking and quite in love with
one another even though I thought I was going to hop on a plane and head for
the jungles to quietly sit and think amongst the mean and sometimes quite loud
monkeys if there’s trouble amongst their hierarchy in paradise or amongst
others, higher-up in the food chain like deadly black panthers and cougars.
The trials and tribulations of this move were
interesting to say the least. Incredible! Talk about high stress and laughter
at the silliness of moving! We weren’t prepared for what was.
We ought to have been better prepared and had
two professional moving trucks instead of one. What the movers couldn’t fit
into the one truck we moved by car like two mature New York City adults do (no,
not like kids; a car is quite a luxury in N.Y.C.) going back and forth with car
loads full of our miscellaneous objects. That’s now over and done with,
thankfully.
We gave our outstanding and incredible Saturn
a great car wash this morning. Our car, more than pulled her weight.
If you don’t know about the greatest kept
secret, well, then Saturn cars are one of the best designed, built and made
American cars; (the dealerships and manufacturers no longer exist, bummer). No,
Saturn cars aren’t fancy but they sure will save one’s life in a car wreck and
that’s worth more than any currency. I prefer value over fanciness.
We don’t have any objects worth stealing,
except for our identities which are highly guarded by vaults, computer secret
coded systems and bankers, accountants and attorneys. If our identities go
missing then one must be quite prepared to spend some serious time behind bars.
There’s no other Gabriela Estrada de la Holm, thus this is it!
Eric’s made most of our furniture or it came
from his carpenter Grandfather, my one aunt who moved out of her home and
downsized; she gave us the beautiful furnishings of her Grandfather and Father.
As a beautiful house warming gift, my Father
gave us a 1920’s art deco writing desk from my Great Aunt Ellen who had
impeccable taste and I mean impeccable. This woman had an eye for class, style
and durability when it came to furnishings and oil paintings.
I may not ever have service personnel of any
type into our home unless we must! Service in Minnesota is so mediocre and that
alone ought to light a fire under Minnesota businesses to improve their much
less than quality service communications to their customers as well as…
---
--- ---
We closed down the flat as of this morning at
10:30 A.M.
The landlord had the audacity to inform us
that he was getting the locks changed; when we moved-in he refused to change
our locks. Weirdo. He also proceeded in telling us that the Millennial-babies
moving-in today and their large family were coming over to paint the entire
flat for him, suckers. I know why no one wants to hire Millennial-babies
(another blog for another day). (Bed-wetters!) (Mommy and Daddy still change
their diapers on a daily basis.)
We’re out of a neighborhood in which the
outer concrete steps still spell-out “Fuck Niggas”, garbage is all over the
alleyway and people don’t give two hoots if one lives or dies. Whew! I’m beginning
to breathe, again.
Uptown is much like the drunken “artist”
types of Duluth Minnesota.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
P.S. Eric told me about his brilliant idea
this morning about cropping corn completely under water amongst river beds and
oceans. Listening to Eric speak about his ideas over breakfast at French Meadow
makes me so happy to be married to such a thoughtful, intelligent and capable
man. A man who creates great and positive change in the world each and every
day! Amazing!
Furthermore, soy and corn aren’t products
that are made for human consumption. Such products are cropped for most animals
with two stomachs which can handle such harsh foods.
Don’t buy into the hype and propaganda that
non-sweet corn and soy are cropped for humans because it’s harvested for
livestock. Soy is very bad for humans! So very bad. Look it up! You wouldn’t
want to kill your kids with that crap.
We only drink almond milk after a decade of
research and we’re not looking back. Why would we? We wouldn’t want to turn
into salt if we can help it.
---
--- ---
*) A skinny Caucasian woman in her early
forties nicked my funny bone on the
elbow with her red basket this morning while walking to the bathroom section
aisle of a Minneapolis Target.
“Ouch!” I said as I rounded the aisle to get
her to wake up to her senses and her world around her.
She didn’t so much as flinch and kept walking
and talking with her other female counterpart who was dressed and looked
exactly like her. Creepy.
She had to either be a sleepwalker or an
idiot because I know for a matter of fact that she felt my funny bone nick her
basket.
I was so grateful that I wasn’t going through
chemotherapy or she would’ve torn my elbow right out of its placement and
possibly sent me to the hospital, that,
or, if we would’ve been walking with small children then she would’ve nicked
the top of our children’s scalps off. Wake up! Mindless Americans!
---
--- ---
*) The reason why I hate the made-up American
1950’s Yoga exercise is because it’s a real great way for Caucasian women to
look emaciated while pretending that it’s a real “religion” or “spiritual
healing quest”.
Poser Yoga doesn’t teach the fine art in
skill towards wisdom in being mindful and thoughtful as the bona fide thing
like Tai-Chi or any other real
martial arts for that matter. When you take the guts out of anything then all
you end up with is an empty shell of nothingness.
Yoga is as empty and dead cockroach of a
shell like many Caucasians pretending to be know-it
alls about being Native and Central American Shamans while addressing
Indians. Shame! Americans are so
transparent! You can see right through them and it doesn’t look pretty.
One can’t help but smell the desperation on
their skin when they talk at you as
an Indian about Indian culture, religion and spirituality or pretend to be
something real that they’re not. One can smell the smell of dust on their skin
and that’s the smell of...
If a
Caucasian is a true Maya Shaman living in the Twin-Cities then the last thing that that individual will do is to
broadcast such a remarkable position in the community.
Nope. I’m not in search of a Shaman. I’ve got
Elders.
Shamans and spiritual leaders aren’t
attention seekers, attention grabbers or time wasters rather they’re sought
after for their valuable teachings and spiritual healing powers that date back
to… no, Shamans don’t go on and on with incompatible speech about nothingness
because the real thing isn’t oversaturated with mindless garble.
Shamans very rarely speak because they know
that to talk at someone is to cause a great wound in the universes. They know
that to love the sound of one’s voice is to be a destroyer not a conveyor of
wisdom.
No, I’m not a Shaman nor do I pretend to be
one nor do I care to become one. No, no thank you. That’s not my calling in
life. Nor will I pretend to be a spiritual hack.
A real spiritual healer and teacher doesn’t
go looking for the sick or students because the sick and students go looking
for the healers and teachers otherwise it’s another poser-wolf in lamb’s
clothing.
Careful. Cuidado. I’ve run into two of these White people in one year. A woman last
summer and a man this summer.
Be very careful of what people want from you especially
when it’s your most valuable time, energy and praise to fulfill their empty and
lonely souls full of ego. People are indeed lost souls pretending to be
something they aren’t.
The universes will whip such hacks into shape
and this is why most intelligent Indians don’t even go seeking to go through
the rigors of becoming Shamans but the Whites
all seem to like these bizarre “elevated” positions; which to becomes Shamans
most often than not means living alone, away from society like a hermit and going
without marriage, children, wealth or notoriety.
I know, I know. I can’t be tricked nor fooled
I’ve been taught well by Central American Shamans, the real thing. Thank you
very much!
The training alone is 7 years in the forest
by oneself. It’s not for everybody (that’s for sure) who can take on such a
quest.
It’s like a Dali Lama in training, not quite
but just as rigorous. Shamans aren’t Gods. Duh!
---
--- ---
*) Thank you; to Charlie from Dish Network
for putting-in our cable last Thursday.
Not only was Charlie on time, respectful,
intelligent and sincerely human but he was also an adult man. His work didn’t
go without notice, not only did this young man work hard for us but he also
communicated like any intelligent man does. Thank you Charlie. You’re a true
gem to Dish Network.
I didn’t know HD Television could be this
incredible.
We’re not looking back!
---
--- ---
*) Nothing. I have a lot of thoughts about
the silliness and dangers of people. Yikes.
---
--- ---
*) I’ve been so tired lately that I haven’t
been doing a great job of editing my English written writing. I have more life
to live than I do blogging. I have a million and one things to get through
before January 1st, 2013. I don’t have the time to take care of
anyone else’s responsibilities but our own.
---
--- ---
*) I hate firing people. I just do. But I
hate ineptness even more so.
Firing millennial personnel who don’t have
the basics of 101 down in their fields is the most horrible thing because not
only do they require a pacifier but they also come without a brain in their
heads about self sufficiency, where to jump in and organization.
Once you’ve done the first firing, then it gets
easier from there and you can’t be fooled by people and their ineptness
especially their lying Résumés.
Still, it’s awful because ultimately deep
down inside you know that people’s livelihoods are important, they have to eat;
but not at the cost and expense of costly multimillion dollar mistakes to a
company large or small because then that means that everyone’s livelihoods are
at stake and then no one gets to eat.
I’d rather hire an eighty-six year old
retiree than a millennial any day because they sure aren’t out of their
training wheels and that’s disrespectful and a lack of consideration from their
parents and universities. What a waste of time they are in the workplace. What
a crime to do that to a Nation of industry, manufacturing and development.
The millennial babies, their empty, shallow
and inconsiderate culture, intellectual dumbness and ineptness make them the
last choice for responsible partnerships, positions and trust.
Sorry, but serious multimillion and billion
dollar business people from all over are complaining about the American
millennial babies and their work hazards. They’re a liability to great and
serious companies here and abroad.
So frustrating that these young American
adults who talk like they’re still in Junior High don’t know the value of hard
work; they’re whiners, lazy and need to have mommy and daddy do their homework
for them if not then wipe their asses along with handfed French fries while
sitting on the toilet pooping.
What a lost and ingrate generation of losers like
many of their uneducated and rich (no, not wealthy; huge distinction) Baby
Boomer parents who might’ve made a lot of money but that’s about it. Money
isn’t everything (another blog for another day).
Not only are they a disgrace but also, one,
can come close to hating them in the workplace for their thoughtlessness,
mindlessness and arrogance when they don’t even know anything about their work.
They’re little bragger with nothing to back it up with. Careful in today’s age
anything can be fact checked and I mean anything.
Yes, they may know how to upload You Tube videos to their computers but
that’s about it.
Millennial babies lack workplace etiquette,
finesse and an inclusive calm work attitude about others who are different from
them. Gross. Go home. Get them out of here! They’re no good to industry right
now. Such people are costing companies on an average $60,000 to $100,000 per
year to train when they lack passion and positive attitude about even getting
started or continue to stay with a company any longer than a year. Mean little
kids without any idea about what it takes to be real business personnel and the
sacrifices that go along with that.
Since the millennial babies’ rich, (no, not
wealthy); mommies and daddies have all the money in the world to take care of
their kids for the rest of their adult kids’ lives then the rich millennial
babies (it’s easy to pick them out in any crowd, the most spoiled humans) don’t
need the jobs as badly as others who are more qualified but possibly don’t look
like they just stepped out of some stupid contemporary rap video with the
latest logos and labels on their clothing, pussy everywhere, fast cars and Mac
Mansions as a portrayal of the fat American life that doesn’t really exist to
begin with anyway.
::: (Although be careful
about how people present themselves and how they’re dressed for business; a
fancy suit is just another fancy suit to
hide many faults because it’ll tell you either a lie about the person and what they’re trying to conceal for
example a (Madonna / Whore complex, careful of such dangerous people in the
workplace) or a truth about their dignity and bank accounts without having to pretend any more or less
than what they really are.) ::: Sweet!
Whatever happened to real rap, anyway? Why is
everything so shallow and watered down? Oh, money. I see. That’s just not good
enough to make a go at it when it comes to setting down strong cultural
foundations.
---
--- ---
*) What age is a millennial? (18-29)
---
--- ---
*) No, I’m not lonely for people.
I’m lonely for Eric.
I married Eric because he was the coolest and
kindest man I’ve ever met and I mean the coolest and kindest. Seriously, you
don’t come across too many of those in one lifetime. Most people who are somewhat
cool pretend to be kind and that combo doesn’t work nor hold up over the course
of one golf game. By the last hole you know who you’re dealing with and whether
or not to seal the deal; most often
than not, not.
---
--- ---
*) We’re having internet server connectivity
problems thus we may have to get rid of our internet service provider all
together.
We work from home and at the downtown private
office and we must have an internet connection that can keep up with a
demanding contemporary lifestyle otherwise, forget it because time, energy and
money are on the line and that’s not acceptable of technology to lack its basic
attributes.
July 30, 2012
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
So much life happened on Monday!
We caught 10 minutes of the swimmer Missy
Franklin this morning and it was astounding! Don’t tell me. We DVR-ed her
swimming and I have no idea what happened (Eric knows). The suspense is so
exciting.
July 27, 2012
Happy Friday!
Aloha.
Goodnight.
July 26, 2012
“The bookful blockhead,
ignorantly read With loads of learned lumber in his head.” - Alexander Pope
Happy Thursday!
Aloha.
Goodnight.
How about a moonlight dance?
---
--- ---
No. No. No. No.
If Kenwood and Fern Hill don’t accept Fed Ex
Freight heavy loader trucks driving throughout their precious neighborhood
streets and roads then we won’t accept that traveling of truck traffic
throughout the Robbinsdale incredible neighborhood streets and roads either
(where the little birds live and make nests; their nature call is like no other
I’ve ever heard before); We won’t accept
that type of mediocrity (hands down) either as taxpaying citizens who own
Tierra in these parts; our dainty little Robbinsdale neighborhood’s streets and
roads can’t possibly support that type of weight nor ought she be forced into
such a submissive female role who must push the boulder up the hill for
infinity. Creepy.
Back to the concept; of rolling a sphere up a
hill over a lifetime. (Yes, I just reiterated that for your linguistic sakes.)
How insane?
What insanity to push the bolder up the hill
and forever? I don’t understand. More than nuts! Stupidity. She doesn’t realize
nor does she know any better to stop rolling the bolder up the steep hill over
and over again. Not acceptable. It’s not good enough. It won’t do. Hmm.
Classism and elitism won’t do any longer
because our United States of America’s infrastructure has had enough stress
that which it can no longer support. Do you understand this? Of course you do
because its logic that makes sense. Would you trump all over a flower? No, of
course not unless one is a brute, unless…
It’s not good enough.
It won’t do.
It’s not acceptable.
We just gentrified our neighborhood as of
last week.
Hip! Hip! Hooray to all types of hard working
people from all sorts of income brackets living an urban dream while owning a
little slice of the American organic, lead-free, vegan, gluten (correction:
from “glutton” as in doing something continuously beyond your fill to “gluten”
as in a bi-product of wheat) and pesticide free apple pie. How delicious! Thank
you!
We’re not moving for sixty some years or
more.
Don’t even attempt to second guess me.
We’re not moving because this is sacred
Native Land.
This is a rock star place for rock stars and
no, money isn’t everything; is it? Nope.
It’s obvious from the high crime rate of
Downtown and Uptown Minneapolis, Minnesota that
money isn’t everything no matter how glitzy it gets built up; these two areas
have skeletons in their closets.
Money doesn’t solve socio-economical problems
amongst the bureaucrats vs. the needs of The Peoples, their public safety and
peace.
We sincerely extend an open invitation to former, present and future
presidents of the United States of America in keeping offices here in North Minneapolis
simply because the best kept secret about North Minneapolis is that even
though, after all these twenty some odd years with the gun and gang violence;
the dainty and classy Victorian homes are still standing up with proper back
posture, and their chins held high. Halleluiah! Amen! Your God really does
exist after all!
How I would’ve (not so much Eric) loved to
have bought one of those North Minneapolis Victorian homes and petitioned to
close off avenues for urban skateboarding, walking and bicycle riding to go and
get groceries, hang out downtown at pubs and restaurants and complete errands
by skateboard as I got older (what a
dream).
I thought about closing off streets in North
Minneapolis in the same fashion as those streets of the “Seward” (correction
from “Wedge” to “Seward”) neighborhood of Minneapolis; completely no traffic
only neighbors, visitors and respectful tourists.
R.I.P. Doc Williams. Oh, you’ll be greatly
missed by people that I love in my family who knew you quite well. Thank you
for your services and commitment to North in donating free dental work to those
that needed it the most at no charge. What a hero! What a legacy! What a human!
I love the location and layout of North,
Minneapolis; one of the closest neighborhoods (suburbs) to downtown and so easy
to get to-and-from places by car. The easiest drive into downtown to say the
least.
I had a studio in North for two years by the
Social Worker offices of Hennepin County.
The problem with North (for me) is that the
gun violence is the only aspect of culture that kept me from purchasing
property in North.
I wanted our children to live amongst any
community of neighbors who worked for a living and held the peace at all costs
and to have exposure to a beautiful racially mixed and urban existence.
I thought that North was going to be a fresh
Harlem, with our Elder neighbors who’ve been making house payments for over
twenty years and are about to become debt free.
How incredible for these Elders to have
withheld against all violent odds, stood the test of time and now they’re about
to become the ones who get the final say as to where North will go from here
after this Tornado 2011 (correction from “2010” to “2011”) devastation.
Will the North Minneapolis taxpaying,
property and landowner citizens; will they invite any president to setup shop
and keep offices in North, Minneapolis without the rise of inflation so that
people who bought-into North in 1982 and who’ve made all monthly payments
towards their mortgages till present, may they and any others like them keep
their homes? Peace.
We don’t want to create a refugee camp here
for the displaced Chicago’s people who collect welfare checks, distribute hard
street drugs and take the $10 buses back to Chicago and don’t contribute to our
communities rather add violence and the such. (Sigh.)
I would’ve loved to have been a proud
taxpayer of North Minneapolis; lost in thought inside one of those fantastic
Victorian homes. What a place that would’ve been for the imagination of a
writer.
Sincerely,
Gabriela
July 25, 2012
~ MERCUTIO
If love be rough with
you, be rough with love;
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.
Give me a case to put my visage in:
A visor for a visor! what care I
What curious eye doth quote deformities?
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.
- The real or fake Shakespeare, (whichever it’s still great from Romeo and Juliet).
Happy Wednesday!
Happy Ramadan!
Aloha.
Let sleeping dogs lie…
Shall we dance to a cautionary tale?
How does one go about those dance steps?
You know what they say about let sleeping lions lie… Right? Right.
Animals behave as they do for a reason and
protecting their loved ones, their space and themselves is always top priority
even if they come across as dangerous they know what’s up with keeping the
peace amongst those who trespass boundaries and perpetuate continuous rudeness,
idiotic tendencies and manipulative measures. Animals fight a great dual to the death or to something else’s death to
say the least. Someone’s going to walk away with their lives and someone’s
going to... Win vs. loss nothing more and nothing less.
Now, if
a lioness is roaring at you then one is still alive and standing to witness
this.
If a
lioness is quiet and hunting one down then stand very quietly and still because
she can definitely outrun any human, out climb any human and out swim any
human. “Do Hide.” (The stupidest advertising campaign is Never Hide.) Not hiding can get you killed in certain concrete and
natural jungles.
Trick question: If
there’s a man roaming the jungle floor with a semiautomatic rifle then what
ought a human do? But to be silent and still. It’s not a luxury that one can
afford to be frivolous with and to lose one’s life over. Wildlife knows this,
all, too, well.
---
--- ---
I’ll quit stalling and get to it already!
Yesterday morning at five I started out my
day with the Lord’s Prayer for the first time in seventeen years and I had the
worst day ever communicating with men in that seventeen year span of time.
I feel as though I ought to pull a fast one on the Americans and whip
them into shape; Sardinian style, of course, with large and
vulgarly gestures to get the Americans to understand that when they’re out of
line then they’re out of line. Back it up, now!
The experts on rudeness and making men feel
small are the Italian women.
Oh, man! Can Italian mujeres metaphorically
castrate a man and get him to beg for mercy if he so much as gets out of line
with her. These women use grandiose and over the top gestures to signify
serious danger because to set off the Italian temper is to play with fuego.
I’ve seen men turn and run with their tails
between their legs after being made to feel so small by the all flamboyant
offensive gestures of fire-hot-tempers of the Italianas.
I try not to get on the bad side of Italianas
and their fierce beautiful tempers that state quite bluntly, “go fuck
yourselves!”
[No, with the Sardinians there’s no
creepy miming, comedy hour and bad acting because by the time their tempers are
raised well, then clear some space because everybody
knows that everybody’s going to keep
eating the delicious 14th century pasta recipe passed down
throughout the generations: (ancestral homemade spaghettii) (no matter what): at dinner time; no matter what was said-or-done each
day; there’s always room for
forgiveness around a bounty of natural foods on one’s table even if “Mama” is
mad as the dickens about something that went disastrously wrong throughout that
day, then with exception she ought to be mad as hell and on fire; I love the
Italians! For example with tremendous accidents like let’s say the kids foolishly started the barn on fire; Oh, I’d
be mad as the dickens if a kid of mine did that but accidents due
tend to happen; (kids, family, friends and excellent neighbors to all)! (What’s there not to love about them, he
said once and we’ve not spoken about Italy in seventeen years. Wow! How the
years go by like a flash of lightening.)] I wish I was in Florence, Italy right about now, back to work… (Sigh.)
Everybody: Italian families / villages who care about and for each other
eat; and, eat, well together; so beautiful! It takes my breath away every
time.
One shouldn’t be sent away without food for
and as a punishment as a cultural rule.
See what I mean?
Where’s the logic in that.
If you don’t get it; food is the most sacred
aspect of life and humans can go without for long periods of time depending on
their health. Money has nothing to do with it.
So much happens in one day and the Italians
know that to be a matter of fact;
therefore to even consider about going into their evenings without food isn’t an option but a giving of thanks. Period.
I think that it’s cruel any punishment to enforce against any person of
any size to go without a single morsel of food after a long day’s work,
learning and development; if prisoner inmates get fed three square meals a day
then why take away a child’s food for punishment? So
culturally queer in the least.)
The tempers and gestures are for real with the Italian women and
one wouldn’t want to bleed from one’s crotch, would one? Ha!
I can’t say that I’ll be uttering the Lord’s
Prayer anytime soon with the exception of attending church simply out of
politeness and reverence for such a lyrical piece of poetry.
As an Indiana I begin and end my days with an
Ojibwa or Maya prayer.
It’ll take me seventeen years to get around to
saying the Lord’s Prayer again on my own.
---
--- ---
Yesterday was a day of dealing and
communicating with Napoleon Bonaparte’s who stood at 5’ 5” or less. I’m 5’ 2” I
would know. (A squirrel is trying to get too close for comfort. I just clapped loudly
at it to keep its distance.) Smile. Why
not? Life is that beautiful even if one is on a darker side of a mood.
---
--- ---
The carpet cleaners came and went yesterday
morning.
Mediocrity ensued.
I don’t have anything mean to say about the
cleaners (but I could and I might down
the road. I need more time to think about the intricacies of what went on)
because well, they’re working men, war veterans and making a living, however (that doesn’t excuse nor pardon their
behavior whatsoever). Can one say miscommunication and a battle of the
sexes in the extreme? Yes? Yes.
Two men knocked on my front door at 10:06
A.M.
Introductions all around.
I pleasantly showed the two men in.
We stepped into the basement via the stairs
to the kitchen which was my first mistake. I should’ve had these service men
gone round back to the backdoor. I won’t make that mistake again as the Doña of the house.
Immediately once we reached the basement a
man from Laos asked, “House cheap?”
I looked at him like a two ton block was
about to land on top of his head.
“Cheap, was house cheap to buy?” I didn’t
answer him. I was stunned at the question.
He went on in his broken English (like
brutally shattered teeth) and wanted to know the price of our home.
“This repo house?” Ha!
---
--- ---
Try not to burst out laughing; when I had an important lesson on etiquette
to teach him when not only entering the home of a stranger but also speaking to
the woman of the house properly and with respect. No, seriously. We want to
keep the peace at all costs.
He was a kind man from Laos like any other kind man from Laos that I’ve
ever communicated with, who meant well and wondered around for
about 20 minutes then shampooed and rinsed a used carpet. (What a funny interaction
to hold with anyone ever. If you ever have the chance to interact with carpet
cleaners do -- do so at least once in your lifetime as I did yesterday for the
first time in my life. Bizarre communication, that I wouldn’t recommend doing
again for a second time ever.)
[The carpet goes sooner than later for
another different flooring all together; like the inside belly of a wooden tug
boat, how warm the varnish, no? Yes. Varnish, the color of honey and the
consistency also remarkably beautiful and breathtaking simply to look at and
float away into a comfortable family room of siestas, naps and relaxation for
the mind.] Rest.
---
--- ---
“House cheap, no?” I understood what he was
getting at but I didn’t like it one bit.
“If you want to know the value of the
property then you’ll have to go look it up on-line, but I’m not here to discuss
the price of our home with you.” Yep. I was that New England direct.
I stepped out of a small study and into the
other larger family room in the basement and spoke to the Caucasian man holding
a clipboard. The man gave the other man a set of instructions to bring in hoses
down a slope via the backyard and through the backdoor the Laos man did this and when he was done wondered upstairs into the
kitchen and spoke with us for about 15 minutes about losing his home, where he
was from and trying to find another home. I sincerely felt genuine emotions for
the loss of his home. How ghastly to lose one’s home.
[I told
the man from Laos that we’re the proud new neighbors of a Hmong family with six
children down a few doors from our home. I figure if they can have six
children fit in their home then we can have six children fit in ours also. How
wonderful would that be?
Wow,
that sounds like a lot of offspring to birth, care for, teach and uphold to
being responsible and upstanding humans at all times even when being adult
fallible making the best decisions possible for the sake and health of beloved
and cherished ones. (I’d have to give pregnancy some serious thought and
consideration hence I’ve been told all of our births will have to be done via
C-section and no other way. Fine. Wonderful.) But six children? ]
Suddenly and out of nowhere the Caucasian man
“laid into me” when the man from Laos went back downstairs and began to up-sale
me on purchasing more than the price of the coupon we had already settled and
agreed upon with his franchise and his bosses.
Not only was I still listening to his pitch
40 minutes later but I was still being sold on something we hadn’t asked for
nor wanted.
At the end of 45 minutes the peddler handed
me a carbon rundown of what he could potentially do for the carpets and it
stated $279.39. What. I asked him to wait a moment for me to call Eric and
decide what to do with this impromptu bit of information.
I got on the phone.
I interrupted Eric’s breakfast meeting.
Eric got on the horn with the clipboard man.
Eric said to the man, “Absolutely not”.
The man hung up the phone.
I heard the man say to Eric over the phone,
“If that’s all you have to budget.” Sneaky little psychology to add “peer
pressure” to the pitch, but with Eric it was a no-go.
If Eric says “no” then Eric means “no” unless one can provide numbers, figures,
facts and further evidence as well as constructed debate. I
like that about Eric as a man because he’s a real man.
As soon as the man got off the phone with
Eric I told the clipboard man that I’d be upstairs taking care of a few things
and to tell me when they were about to leave. This was at 10:50 A.M. exactly.
By 10:57 A.M. the men had vacated the
premises and that’s that.
I timed the man from Laos and he literally
took 10 minutes to clean our entire carpet downstairs. How infuriating was that
to say the least but there it was. The carpets were cleaned, I guess. I
could’ve gotten down on my hands and knees with a scrub brush and done a better
job than that.
I don’t know how to communicate with the
Minnesotan men any longer.
I’m at a loss.
I’ve no idea how to communicate in a manner
of fashion in which my boundaries are respected and such boundaries must be
upheld or else, no threat, simply, major irritation at people’s lack of
communication and education. Pity. America. (Sigh. A Charlie Brown style.)
Why are my boundaries continually being
trespassed as a woman and a woman of color?
I keep being treated in a niggardly fashion
and I can only guess that it’s because these types of men think that I have
absolutely no authority or power whatsoever in the world.
It’s gets tiresome to clash with the men
because the Minnesotan men can care and are lovely as manly men when they’re
not freaking out about their own lack of authority and power in the world.
I just don’t know what to think anymore about
Minnesota’s men and their lack of...
I don’t want to give up on such men but it’s
becoming boring to communicate with uneducated jackasses.
---
--- ---
I like Mrs. Landlord but I don’t like her
husband Mr. Slumlord.
At 2:28 P.M. exactly yesterday afternoon I
was awoken from REM sleep by my rude upstairs neighbor who is not only a brown
noser with the cops and our landlord but also two-faced who hasn’t paid his
rent for much of the year as the slumlord has complained to me about it three
times since January. Can you say, emasculate? Emasculate.
My inconsiderate upstairs neighbor for the
past year and my slumlord were speaking as loudly and as intimately as if they
were standing in our bedroom. Creepy. The walls are so thin in this turn of the last century early 1900’s
house that’s about to fall over.
The little secret about the house is that if
one whispers then one can hear more so clearly than if one shouts. The walls
are hollow inside and whispers travel easier than shouts. Oh, yes we heard
every fake orgasm, two-faced and snide commentary in this structure travelling in and out of unfilled piping. Ha!
Hilarious!
I got up, went to the top of our basement
door, opened it and made the following request at the hallway walls: “Could you
gentlemen please keep it down. I’m trying to take a nap. Thank you.”
Immediately both “laid into me” and abruptly
told me their needs without any hesitation.
It was my fault that I was taking a nap; that
was the slumlord’s logic.
The one scrawny neighbor came around a corner
and stood at the bottom of our stairwell and faced me directly while looking
up. “Did you find a key on a red key chain?”
“Yes. It travelled in a bucket over to our
house.”
“Leave it in the inside of the front porch.”
He stared at me like a piece of meat.
No, could you please leave it for us or
anything. It was a command to be followed and I did everything in my power not
to spit at him from the top of the stairwell and aim directly for his face. Ha!
“Gabriela.” The slumlord likes to take all
the liberties in the world with my first name even though I introduced myself
to him as “Gabriel” because he can’t annunciate my name properly with the
Spanish letter “r” rolled as it ought to even if he tried. “Please bring that
keychain back.” As though I wasn’t going to. As if.
“I already said that I would.” The scrawny
man went out of view around the corner and completely out of sight while
Napoleon took his place center stage at the bottom of the steps.
“Can you please keep it down because these
walls are very thin and it’s easy to hear everything!” My voice rose loudly and
dipped back down again to show him what a large echo could do in an enclosed
stairwell without installation.
He had the gull to tell me “You had the same
problem with the previous neighbors about this.” I wished I had been wearing
flip flops so as to hurl one at the wall for dramatico effect.
I also thought about spitting on top of his
head.
I controlled myself as best as I could and I
didn’t spit because I haven’t yet in my life.
“You’re just stressed out. It’s a good thing
you’ll be leaving next week.” I got hurt by his stupidity for a moment.
After six years of fixing his crappy house,
mowing grass and shoveling snow as a free service to him and paying the rent on
time every month for six years all he can tell me is that it’ll be a great
thing that we bought a house so we move the hell on out. I almost went Spaniard
on him.
I day dreamed that it was a great thing that
I wasn’t standing near him or I would’ve wanted to fight the urge to slap him,
once, really hard across the face. What an asshole. That’s not a man. That’s
not even a professor as he says he is. No way! No way!
A real man doesn’t tell a woman how she feels
and on top of that be a complete ungrateful ingrate. (I’m making a gesture
under my chin and you know what that translates into in Italian.)
“And pick up those cigarette butts out in the
garage!”
“I already have and I will. Don’t speak to me
like that! You’re not my father!”
I closed the door to the unfinished and
crumbling basement, went to the stereo and played “Neutral Milk Hotel” as if
the band were standing right here in our living room. I played the stereo as
loudly as I could bare it, (without ruining my hearing nor popping an eardrum
because I love my construction sound proof cushion filled earplugs), went about
making the loudest noises I could without breaking anything but scaring any man
out of his wits if he had any.
‘I’ll show you what six years of rude and
dangerous flat neighbors and a cheap slumlord is like…’
I cranked the stereo and hell broke loose in
the flat without ruining or breaking a single thing… I know my energy all too
well and no matter how mad I can get I still keep my wits about me and I can
slam things quite hard and loudly without ever having them break. It’s a great
skill to know your own power and physical force. HA! HA! HA!
After 15 minutes I got tired of slamming
anything.
Four times, I’ve turned the stereo quite
loudly without blowing out the speakers (yep that’s correct), four times in six years and every time
the reason has been because either my space was threatened or I was commanded
and screamed-at by men whom to me were strangers whom directed for me to do as
they demanded in that moment or
insulted me personally for no good reason whatsoever. Men can be so…
Nothing makes a woman want to bring down a
man who acts with righteous-little-boy-indignation. Please. Who do men think
women are? Little guinea pigs? We don’t think so!
Now, yesterday I discovered that if I simply
held an empty plastic bin over my head that the sound it makes on impact is a
loud smacking sound and I jumped right of my skin the first time I did it. I
kept doing that for an hour exactly. I gained muscle strength on my upper arms.
---
--- ---
‘I’ll show them what it’s like to communicate
with crappy house mates.’ I thought.
Our 1st set of neighbors were a
“nice” couple; one of them held a professional advertising and Public Relations
job here at a small and local magazine in town trying to get off the ground.
Anytime the woman got irate at her male
partner she’d proceed to hurl dishes up against the walls until they’d break.
Yikes.
Furthermore, I’ve not yet thrown and broken a
dish up against a wall in my life, but that must’ve somehow felt good to her.
There would be a loud crash of breaking
dishes and the sound would scare the dickens out of me, at first, as it’s
always queer when getting acquainted with the bizarre behavior in others;
humans are fallible.
I started to get used to the violence over
time. I got desensitized to it.
I got good at predicting the odds on which nights
she was so scolding hot mad that she was going to either throw and break the
dishes or not. I had my money set on it
when I thought she would get enraged-enough and
I was right most of the time with the exception of two times. For about a
year it went on like this. I started smoking again at this time one-to-three
cigarettes a day in the garage which the landlord didn’t care if I smoked
cigarettes in the garage or not; nor does he still till this day.
The 2nd set of tenants also a
couple.
The men would get pissing drunk and Karaoke
for hours at a time on Sundays for almost a year, along, with their screaming
football watching drinking parties. Weird combination of Karaoke and football.
So loud! It’s something you do in a home, I guess, not really in a flat with
rice paper walls.
When they got absolutely intoxicated then
they’d begin to fight against each other (when alone) and eventually Monday
throughout the weekdays and into the weekends. The fighting went on year round
without a break.
The men ultimately became physically violent
with each other because it sounded as though one of the men was being thrown
off a heavy recliner chair with a loud crash then long drawn out scuffles with
furniture crashing all across our ceiling.
The garage was filled to the brim with clear
plastic large garbage bags full of beer cans. Need I say more? Oh, one more
thing, these men did odd jobs for the landlord to subsidize their rent. One of
the men who knew carpentry well-enough would go around fixing the upstairs
apartment and the outside siding while singing off key at the top of his lungs
(irritating like nails on a chalkboard) for about six hours a day for days at a
time. Yes! No. No. No.
The 3rd set of tenants were brown
nosers, picky, control freakishly mean, demanding, depressed,
passive-aggressive bullying pinching Nazi women Jews in their early thirties
attending graduate school who demanded to be taught how to wash their dirty
underwear on New Year’s night of all nights. Who do I look like to you, like a Cinderella?
People think that they can treat others
niggardly because they don’t give a shit if others live or die. One is only
there to fulfill the others needs. Not so! Back it up, sisters. Imagine these
are the future social workers of America. Yikes.
I couldn’t believe it! I couldn’t make it up
even if I tried to. No, wonder I never introduced these two freaks to my family
who have many connections as social workers and psychologists here in Hennepin
County. Wow! They asked me early on when they moved in if I would introduce
them to anyone who could help them get jobs in their field. I kept putting it
off for a year. No wonder!
Of all the violence I’ve witnessed in six
years, here, in this flat, alone, their violence was the one-and-only hostility
that I could have done without day-after-day for almost eight hours a day for a
year and it was this: the stomping of their bony heels and fat beefy legs
digging into the floor above us like daggers going through the plastered dry
walled ceiling.
There’d be stomping for four hours at a time
and then silence for one hour anywhere between noon and two; at least I ate in
silence at lunch time. Then the stomping would begin again for another four
hours at a time in the afternoon, a pacing up and down the length of the entire
flat.
We lost $100,000.00 dollars in editing,
alone, last year.
We didn’t complete our 2011 full length
feature because I couldn’t hear myself think in our home editing suite.
I could’ve…Screamed!
I did yell on a weekly basis with Eric at night because during the day the
bitches were out in full force while I dealt with excruciating abdominal pain
getting ready for surgery.
I’ll hate them until the day they apologize
but I’m not holding my breath.
I know who they are and their true natures.
Everything about me bothered them and they told me so on a weekly basis by
knocking on my inner front door and demanding me not to smoke in the garage. As if. Like hell. Bed-wetters.
To the Jewish God, we incurred a hundred
thousand dollars in damages. May their God…
At this time last year we were ready to
purchase this shack and level it; the slumlord kept dragging his feet once he
found out what we were going to do with the place… We should’ve moved out within
a month of the bitches moving in. So many things gave their type of violence
away (about them) due to them forcibly crossing boundaries on a weekly basis
for a year.
Not to mention that both classist White Trash
women needed computer help constantly and one of the bitches would flirt with
Eric even though she treated me like an enemy. No. No. No. She’s the only crazy bitch I’ve ever come close to slapping across the
mouth hard.
The 4th set of neighbors (who are
moving out today); early on left splattered blood on the inside of the outer
front porch door and walls which I cleaned up with rubber gloves that I threw
away because the blood sat there for days and no one seemed to think that it
was their responsibility to clean it up except for mine as the only woman
living inside that divided structure. Jackasses!
A woman had been screaming bloody murder
upstairs for many nights on the weekends for about three months last fall and
into the winter. I called the cops three times which our neighbors liked to
suck up to them once they arrive and make the cops laugh before the cops would
leave the premises.
Not funny at all!
Because while on the phone our one neighbor
with his bedroom directly above ours would scream at the top of his lungs into
a phone or at the woman directly and she would scream bloody murder right back
at him at 2, 3, 4 in the morning while throwing objects across the room. Can
you say boringly dangerous communication?
Our one scrawny neighbor pounded on our door
about a month and a half ago; yelling at me directly and in my face for me to
move my car or else. “Come outside with me right now and take a look at the
parking situation!” He barked orders at me as if I wasn’t doing something more
important like cutting a feature film.
“Absolutely not!” I told him. I wasn’t about
to give myself over to the hands of danger. Nope. No way! No way! “I’m busy
right now and I’ll move the car when I leave and come back.” The neighbor was
fuming in his Super America managerial outfit. I can’t imagine what a jerk off
he must be to his staff. For God’s sake!
---
--- ---
Yes, I acted Ut-most abominably yesterday for
an hour by turning up the volume. I rewound a tape cassette to the beginning,
pressed play and let “Bjork” rip at top volumes as I drove away from the flat.
It was the only artistic arsenal I had at
hand.
Thank the Gods we don’t keep shot guns in the
city as we do up at the farm on the back forty, I’m being all too facetious on paper rather than violent in real
life. (Careful not to take me too literal! I have all of the adult rights
and artistic license in the world to write as I see fit.)
Today in person I personally and directly
made my peace and said my apologies to the landlord and the same scrawny
neighbor from upstairs. The scrawny jack looked at me like “you fucking
nigger”.
What is there to expect from these Caucasian
less than educated Minnesotans? Nothing.
Don’t expect a single thing from them not
even common decency.
I received a heartfelt apology from the
landlord even though he proceeded to tell me once more how I felt without
asking me he assumed the entire world about me. I was told that it was stress.
No. No. No. (I’m waiving my hand away from
myself.)
It’s not stress that drives me to become completely
rude and create conscientious chaos; Its human farm animals that overstep
others’ boundaries and infringe upon others’ sacred sanctuaries and spaces that
makes me take out the following musical acts: “The Ramones”, “The Sex Pistols”
and “Rage Against the Machine”. I win!
*) (No, I don’t know any of the musical
artists I mentioned in this blog. We’ve not once met nor do we go out of each
other’s ways to do so.) Cheers!
Cheers.
See you Monday!
Goodbye.
Gabriela
*) (Right now I’m hearing the most exquisite
bird song ever nevertheless I have no idea what bird sound it is and the little
bird won’t show itself in this forest. Possibly a large bird but from the sound
of its sweet song I think that it’s a little bird.) No, I don’t like touching
birds or any other animal wildlife of any type for that matter. Thank you, but
no thank you, much less feeding
wildlife (another blog for another day).
*) [I
can go as far back to my diaries as 1989 and know exactly why I had such a horrible
day seventeen years ago but that’s neither here nor there because keeping a
diary isn’t considered real writing and most writers keep diaries -- to the
slush pile! Most any writer, too, can go as far back as possible and tell you
in great detail one day in the life of them.) (Keeping diaries is not that
spectacular to writers because it’s average work and no, keeping a diary isn’t
considered literary muscle work towards that 10,000 hours of professional
expertise writing because most diaries, as most writers will tell you are
crappy rants and mediocre writings of angry and frustrated people so the diary
most often than not isn’t worth a penny.) You’d only know this by sitting
around enough writers’ circles to hear the ugly truths about the mundane chores
of keeping a diary. Personally, keeping a
diary makes for interesting stuff but not worth any sort of draft writing by
any stretch of the imagination.)
In
other words, if you want it spelled out bluntly; keeping a diary is considered
the hack of the literary arts towards draft writing. Period.
The reason why it’s in poor taste to
base any character upon personal diaries is because it’s considered hack work
by a hack writer and a literary taboo to say the least, most definitely a faux
pa and it’s obvious that the writer is a novice in their field no matter how
many books they’ve sold (by all means purchase a badly written book but don’t
go calling it literature or that type of sales pitch makes hacks out of an
entire nation of readers); it means that a writer doesn’t know how to craft or
to well construct a novel especially when it comes from their personal diaries.
Ouch!
See, I hate stating the obvious, but
most real writers will state the obvious to get the pink elephant out of the
literary circles because nobody and I mean no one wants to sit around feeling
like a hack when their main priority is to become real at something important
like draft writing which does indeed take more than keeping a diary about pink
ribbons and boy crushes.
To base any character upon one’s former
younger self is to convey to one’s prisoner audience that the writer is badly
playing God and that ought to leave a bad taste in one’s mouth.
Hack writing is so obvious it’s embarrassing
to leaf through and much less to give any sort of credence to it because then
it makes the mediocre something special when it’s not. A novel based upon a
diary is an already licked lollypop on a stick re-wrapped no matter how fancy
the wrapping may be. Gross. Lick that. No thank you!
I wouldn’t want to go to a candy shop and
purchase already licked candy. Why would I? Why would you? Save your money and
watch the Olympics because at least athletes can’t pretend to be hacks, either
they are world champions or they’re not. Simple as that!
*) Nothing, I guess. Could you imagine being
a hack in your field? Ouch! Hacks everywhere and it must be so embarrassing for
them to try and pass their peers’ review.
July 24, 2012
“Your intellect may be
confused, but your emotions will never lie to you.” - Roger Ebert
“Small minds are concerned
with the extraordinary, great minds with the ordinary.” - Blaise Pascal
“The intellect of the wise is
like glass; it admits the light of heaven and reflects it.” - Augustus Hare
“The intelligent man is one
who has successfully fulfilled many accomplishments, and is yet willing to
learn more.” - Ed Parker
“We should take care not to
make the intellect our god; it has, of course, powerful muscles, but no
personality.” - Albert
Einstein
Happy Tuesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance? How about a serious-faced
Finn Tango?
---
--- ---
As many casualties per year die
from being tired while driving on the roads as there’re casualties from driving
under the influence of alcohol in wreckages. (Sigh.) (What stats!)
Sleep is good very good indeed.
I’ve been ever so tired lately.
I can’t seem to shake it off, the tiredness
that is.
Today my number #1 goal would be to take a
15-minute “cat nap”.
Americans work much too hard in
such a competitive (greedy-shallow) societal-culture and that’s too bad because
siestas are not a mass cultural outlook to health, happiness and productivity
in America. What a young and culturally oppressive society in the attitudes
towards overall mental, physical and lifestyle health.
Driving indeed is serious business
because in one’s hands one holds 2-4 ton machinery that demands respect while
sharing the road alongside pedestrians and bi-pedal peoples throughout their
neighborhoods, streets, roads and highways…
Its people behind the wheel therefore there’s
a lot more room for human error.
[Whatever
happened to The Jetson’s floating cars? I thought that by now humanity would
have commercially sound-vibrating reverberating engines. It doesn’t take a
genius to think of possible futuristic engines in the construction of an
engine’s materials, mechanics, engineering and design however it does take an
artist, now it would take a genius to build one.] Tesla! Tesla! Tesla! (A
little American cheer for you.) Gooo
Tesla!
---
--- ---
With that said:
Driving anywhere in Minneapolis: Huge
learning curve!
I drove over 70 miles yesterday. What.
I used to drive at most a grand total of a whopping 8 miles per day. I got so
lost yesterday throughout Minneapolis suburban and urban neighborhoods and
highways.
I drove through neighborhoods and on freeways
that I’d not known existed within less than 5 miles of Uptown and downtown. It
was like an episode of the Twilight Zone driving through some of the same areas
and some freeways while lost in which I couldn’t find my way out and back to
our new neighborhood. Whew! Lots of breathing while figuring out street lights,
signs and faded arrow-markings and lines on the roads of Minneapolis.
[The state of Minnesota must sink money into
“a” roads-and-streets paint budget by marking all roads and streets no matter
how small or large the roads and streets may be especially for those motorists whose
eyesight may not be a perfect 20/20.]
By late afternoon, I just wanted to take a
siesta and forget the entire bloody endeavor of driving.
Sometimes, I’d ended up in the same areas and
had no idea how to make heads or tails out of the streets, neighborhoods, roads
and freeways.
I have a huge driving curve that I must
overcome.
Oh, goodness. I feel like I’m 17 and learning
to drive all over again for the first time ever.
No, I’m
not faint of heart when it comes to driving the Minnesota freeways.
Please, my New England Grandmother and her
Bostonian road rage taught me to drive fast and calmly in the middle of
Boston’s outer freeways and in the city while my Duluth Grandfather and his
somberness every time I drove up on an incline taught me to drive in general
along with my father for hours at a time.
Now, the freeways don’t scare me, but I do
like to drive the speed limit.
Yes, I’ve been taught to drive along to the
flow of traffic but I don’t like to, if
traffic is going too fast while stopping and proceeding. I guess that 5 miles
over the speed limit is acceptable, but anymore than that and I don’t feel like
I’m enough of an expert driver to do that on the Minnesota highways.
Like I said, I’m a “grandmother driver”, for
now please forgive me Minnesotans!
I’ll openly say this: Minnesotans aren’t Bostonian drivers. Not
even close. Sorry.
Stop and go. Stop and go. Slow down and go.
Slow down and go. Sightseeing and go. Sightseeing and go. Putting on makeup and
go. Putting on makeup and go. Texting and go. Texting and go. Ha! Pretty funny
but dangerous.
Now, I find that Minnesotans think that
neighborhoods such as Uptown and Downtown can be driven like freeways while
drivers disrespectfully drive 40 miles per hour in town. No. No. No. It’s simply
uncouth to drive that fast here in town and throughout any private
neighborhoods especially with our beautiful urban and suburban citizens and
civilians on foot and on bikes.
Stick to the speed limit on major roads in
town which is 30 miles per hour such as on Lyndale and Hennepin; while in
alleyways 10 miles per hour is great because we have so many amazing youth
playing and hanging out on bikes; while in the neighborhoods 15 to 20 miles per
hour will do.
If you don’t like the mindful and respectful
driving then turn off or go around.
If you don’t get it, The Minneapolitans love to bike and walk in
the urban and suburban neighborhood settings, areas and public locations.
Please slow down because Minnesota is losing
our future citizens and civilians every time our children and adults get killed
here in the Twin-Cities due to hit-and-runs, vehicular homicide if one needs it put bluntly.
Finally, the reason as to why I don’t drive like
a Bostonian upon the Minnesota freeways is because well, the Twin-Cities is one
huge highway pretzel. Yes? Yes. What a foul design for a freeway, not human
friendly at all. Another reason is because the Bostonians are really great
about changing lanes as smoothly as melted liquid silver at tops speeds while
the Minnesotans not so much. What more can I say? Nothing.
I’ve run out of time for today. More on the
subject of driving later.
Prayers are with the living.
2012 we’ve lost so many tremendous public
figures and role models.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
*) Penn State: more ethical, moral principles
and philosophical thoughts later.
*) Correction: The house next to ours
isn’t grey. It’s a…I don’t know the English word for that color.
My mistake; there wasn’t any type of
discrepancy about the color of the house next to ours.
The house two-doors down is indeed grey as
the African American man had described it to be last week. I’m indeed horrible
with some details unless I’m specifically looking for something… I won’t
apologize here, I made the correction and that’s humbling and smart enough as
it is.
*) To do well by my two blog-investors I must
write and edit a grand total of 2 hours per day within a 24-hour span to make
it a goal of 5,000 hours of blogging within ten years. 5,000 hours puts me at a
halfway point of becoming an expert on the subject of writing specifically the
genre of public blogging once I reach a total of 10,000 hours within the
disciplinary art form.
Like any other artist from ballet to painting
one must get in that total 10,000 hours of practice and discipline which
normally takes about 20 years or more before one can become an expert in one’s
field.
If I were a dancer then I think I would’ve posted
5,000 hours of dance practice simply to convey the hard work behind the
disciplinary art form to any audience. It takes time, practice and dedication
to complete 5,000 hours of anything and here it is on the page for the entire
world to witness. It’ll be an incredible accomplishment indeed.
I decided to do my first 5,000 hours of
writing online and in the public’s eye mainly to portray the hard work and
astonishing value in writing by getting better at the craft of writing English
over a prolonged period of time.
I’d write anyway whether online or not,
however, once it’s made public then the reader can follow along and see the
concrete action packed actual progress to completing this goal and no one can
say that it’s not so because it’s right here and as a matter of fact.
Now, I like to blog, alright but more so I
like to live.
Blogging is homework, work and somewhat of a
chore for me as a professional working adult artist / filmmaker with a busy
lifestyle and schedule who could be doing one-of-many of thousands of other
things other than blogging online.
I’ve set a block of time aside anywhere from
6 A.M. to 6 P.M. for daily blogging. I carry around my laptop and I do sneak in
1.5 hours of writing anytime throughout the day.
After 7 P.M. I have dinner to attend to and I
begin to shut down my work for the day, calls, e-mails, and texts also. I’m
human and I, too, get tired of mass communication in this extensive media age.
Eric just completed 10,400 hours in his field
of Television. Eric is now officially an expert in his field of broadcast and
technical engineered Television. Hip! Hip! Hooray for Minneapolis, MN to have
great and knowledgeable experts in their fields who choose to work, live and
play here.
July 23, 2012
“An intellectual is someone
whose mind watches itself.” - Albert Camus
“A woman has to be
intelligent, have charm, a sense of humor, and be kind. It's the same qualities
I require from a man.” - Catherine Denueve
“Action is the real measure
of intelligence.” -
Napoleon Hill
“Be as smart as you can, but
remember that it is always better to be wise than to be smart.” - Alan Alda
“Genius always finds itself a
century too early.” -
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
I come across many psychotic non-ADHD people on a daily basis.
Last week a man drove the wrong way down a
one-way facing me at 30 miles per hour.
There was a car behind me and next to me.
I found it impossible to steer anywhere to
evade him thus all I could do was to slow down as much as I could and “play
chicken” with the psychotic Caucasian man driving directly towards me. All I
could do was to hope to his God that he would turn off within milliseconds and
he did, thankfully.
I laid into my horn for a long and continuous
moment. No, I wasn’t screaming, I wasn’t outraged, scared or mad. I held a
straight face and tried not to burst out laughing at his idiotic tendencies.
Can you say psychotic and deadly? I know I can!
On a weekly basis Eric witnesses a specific
man who goes around downtown having intense conversations with thin air and
suddenly out of nowhere he’ll get outraged and start screaming at the top of
his lungs at his imaginary conversational partners and he turns bright red in
the face. Can you say psychotic? I know I can.
Two weeks ago while walking alone down an
isolated street behind St. Thomas in downtown a black man, who looked more like
he’s backpacking Europe homeless, stood at a light and began screaming at the
top of his lungs.
He went from zero to outrage within a matter
of seconds.
I got startled because I was deep in
meditative Zen thought about planting a lead-free and organic soiled vegetable
garden in the front yard of our new home like the characters in the British
show “Good Neighbors” or known in Britain as “The Good Life”.
No, I didn’t chime in and began screaming
with him, nor outraged, scared or mad. I crossed the street as quickly as I
could and got away from the psychotic man throwing a fit of epic proportions by
himself. Can you say psychotic? I know I can.
Last week both Eric and I witnessed two large
grown black women with their brood of small children walking in the middle of
the street facing away from traffic; making their way as slow as molasses
refusing to use the sidewalks. Can you say psychotic to walk children in the
middle of the street amongst traffic? I most certainly can!
On a daily basis Eric and I both witness
panhandlers darting out into traffic trying to get money from drivers on the
entrance and exits of freeways. Last week we heard wheels coming to a
screeching halt because of the panhandling and traffic relationship between
beggars and drivers. Can you say psychotic to create vehicle accidents for a
buck? I know I can.
This Saturday night Eric and I both witnessed
the almost brutal accident of two bicyclists who wore their “invisible
pedestrian outfits” without reflective clothing or any lights of any type on
their bicycles. I held my breath. I was absolutely terrified for these young
tattooed beautiful people and their safety. Can you say psychotic? I know I
can.
---
--- ---
You get my point: There are many badly behaved psychotic
non-ADHD people roaming the Earth. We know. We see them on a daily basis making
horrible choices.
Personally, as a clinically diagnosed ADHD
person, I don’t have auditory nor visual hallucinations. And, if I did then my
husband, retired M.D. psychologist father and medical doctor would be the first
ones to know, thank you very much! Period. End of discussion.
I don’t start screaming at people even when
they’re rude, deadly and stupid.
I could scream at foul people and be as badly
behaved and mannered as most culturally psychotic Americans are especially
customer service personnel but I don’t freak out because I can control myself,
thank you. For goodness sake!
No, I don’t have any delusions of grandeur.
Please.
I’m a lovely woman and I’ve had to work very
hard for every object that we’ve ever bought.
I’m flesh and bone, I’m imperfect, I’m smelly
at times after long walks, I’m human. I make mistakes and lots of them. Aiyayaii. Canta y no llores. Sing and don’t cry.
We work like farmers from sunup to sundown.
When one works hard in life there’s very
little room for putting on airs about being something that one is not. Truly.
Daily, reality is such a smack in the face
that I stay awake, alert and present to my immediate realities. I don’t go
around being delusional about anything however a girl can daydream from time to
time, can’t she? Lately, I’ve been day dreaming about a pair of high heels I
saw. Juicy. Wonderful!
Would I love to be the Queen of Sheba and
have servants wash my dishes, make my bed and launder my clothes on a daily
basis, surely; how spectacular would that be? Quite.
Hence, I’m a real woman.
I go about all of the domestic
responsibilities which require to be met each and every day.
As a contemporary woman I run a tiny little
film company that requires to be in contact with people throughout all over the
world as well as all of the daily operations and responsibilities of running a
household along with research, conversations about global politics and cooking
recipes. (He, he, he.) You can’t forget the beauty of cooking. I cook five days
a week and that responsibility alone makes me extremely grounded, real and down
to earth.
Please don’t judge my life as “psychotic” --
my life is very real!
No delusions over here!
I stand firmly upon Tierra Firma. Thank you
very much!
Ultimately, I think that doctors and
psychologists are mad as hell that they can’t clump together the ADHD folks in
with the autistic, bi-polar and schizophrenic people simply to over-medicate
us.
I know for a fact the differences in all
three.
I’ve worked with and alongside bi-polar, schizophrenics
and autistics and in no way are ADHD people in the same category as these other
folks. No way!!! Its apples and oranges all together.
The autistics seem to choose to literally
bang their head up against walls; the schizophrenics hear auditory
hallucinations that no one else can hear while the bi-poplar humans are ready
to be your best friend one moment and the next they’re ready to beat one into a
bloody pulp. Nope. ADHD doesn’t work that way and psychologists are too lazy to
figure it out because well, they don’t have the key into genius insight. It’ll
take ADHD genius psychologists to unlock this lovely cerebral flower of awe,
wonder and creativity.
Doctors and psychologists just can’t seem to
put ADHD up on a shelf to look at and pinpoint quite what it is. Hence,
psychologists tend to throw ADHD in with the autistic, bi-polar and
schizophrenic realities when, really, ADHD people are licking psychologists at
their intelligence tests, “normalcy” spectrum and genius I.Q.’s. True, were
horrible with time schedules and organization, thus I keep a digital calendar
for everything and cleanliness is close to Godliness. Need I say more? Nope.
Psychologists hate that they can’t explain
away nor simply call ADHD “psychotic”.
I hate psychologists’ laziness in all of
their reverent and naïve doctoral understanding and approach to ADHD.
Get hip to ADHD because ADHD is not only
highly pure intelligence but its also creative genius.
This ADHD is a vein that psychologists can’t
tap into like confused and scared heroin junkies who can’t get a fix of their
drug because they can’t seem to find a vein. Ha!
Go lick a lollypop for a change while you
contemplate poking around this cerebral vein of intelligence, creativity and
compassion about what’s really happening to the globe at large. We care because
we’re not delusional, confused nor outraged. Eat that for Nordic dinner.
Someone needs to grow a garden of flowers and I think it’s the psychologists.
Something smells rotten in the field of psychology! HA!
With respect,
Gabriela
P.S. Much love, respect and grace to you on
this Monday!
Source from Wikipedia
Psychosis (from the Ancient Greek ψυχή "psyche", for mind/soul, and -ωσις "-osis", for abnormal condition or derangement) refers to an abnormal condition of the mind, and is a generic psychiatric term for a mental state often described as involving a "loss of contact with reality". People suffering from psychosis are described as psychotic. Psychosis is given to the more severe forms of psychiatric disorder, during which hallucinations and delusions and impaired insight may occur.
Some professionals say that the term psychosis is not sufficient as some illnesses grouped under the term "psychosis" have nothing in common (Gelder, Mayou & Geddes 2005). Indeed, a complex constellation of neurological and psychological factors can result in the altered signalling observed in psychosis. In otherwise normal individuals, exogenous ligands can produce psychotic symptoms. NMDA receptor antagonists, such as ketamine, can replicate a similar psychosis to that experienced in schizophrenia.
Prolonged or high dose use of psychostimulants will alter the function like the manic phase of bipolar disorder. NMDA antagonists replicate some of the so called "negative" symptoms e.g., thought disorder in subanesthetic doses (doses insufficient to induce anesthesia), and catatonia in high doses. Psychostimulants, especially in one already prone to psychotic thinking, can cause some "positive" symptoms, such as delusional beliefs, particularly those persecutory in nature.
However, some positive symptoms lack a simple neurotransmitter-based explanation, specifically, the auditory hallucinations observed in schizophrenia. These have a much more complex genesis, involving abnormal synaptic plasticity, and the formation of a "parallel process" within the brain. Of specific interest is the entorhinal cortex, which has much less (indirect) connections to the tertiary auditory cortex, as well as direct connections to the hippocampus, the most active region of neurogenesis in the adult brain.
The absence of layer IV in this portion of the temporal lobe means much less interneuronal "buffering" is present. As such, there are many more connections between the large pyramidal neurons of layer V and the relatively small pyramidal neurons of layer III. As such, the unique structure of this area allows its cortiocortical efferents, specifically layer III to layer I of the prefrontal cortex, to exert much excitatory, to the globally modulatory frontal lobes.
July 20, 2012
Silence.
---
--- ---
Happy Friday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
La Casita: The Little House: The Cracker Jack
Box: I love it more and more each day.
Please, don’t judge a book by its cover.
Looks can be deceiving. Ha!
The Cracker Jack Box is indeed tiny from the
outside and that’s that.
La Casita looks like one of the Pioneers’
one-room cabin log houses from the front.
Now, our middle class home is not a mansion
by any means nor stretch of the imagination nor do we pretend that it is, but
it sure does take me back to a time and place in which my Duluth, Minnesota
Grandfather Al was still alive and drinking dark black Finn coffee around his
table with his friends and neighbors while playing cribbage for hours on early
mornings around seven with cartoons or boxing playing on the T.V. set in the
living room and listening to their conversations roaring with laughter in the
kitchen or somber from political talk and then roaring laughter. I miss that
most about my Grandfather and his group of friends.
Every man’s home is his castle and every woman’s hair is her crown.
We bought the house for so many reasons and
one of the main reasons is because the kitchen looks and feels like my
Grandfather Al’s kitchen. I can’t explain it to you how uncanny and remarkably
similar it is in looks and style. It’s like standing inside a time warp.
The house goes back to a time and place of
the late 1950’s in which the kitchens were small (for as much cooking as they
did in those days) and I like it that way.
In many ways the kitchen is still in the
style of 1958 and a crossbreed of a sailboat’s galley. Quite functional and
perfect for a lifestyle that requires practicality, function and purpose. I
feel like a real woman in this kitchen with so much historical value.
New homes today, yes, even mansions, I’ve walked through and been a guest at are made
like “McMassions”, would you like some
fries with that?
I won’t judge, it’s just that for as many
millions of dollars as these newer homes cost, the materials somehow feel cheap
and most often it’s because they are, these mansions were built with poor
materials nothing more and nothing less. What
a disgrace to do that to a home buyer.
---
--- ---
Poor Eric, he’s afraid that he’s going to
come home to walls torn out, doors replaced, trim removed and God only knows
whatever other ideas that come into my mind about construction. So much is lost
in translation between us while communicating about what to do with the house.
This morning Eric intelligently talked me out
of purchasing one large sheet of stainless steel material to cover the entire
walls of one of the bathrooms.
I know I know I finally saw through the logic
in it all.
Eric’s argument was that during a thunder
storm while sitting on the can one
wouldn’t want to get electrocuted. Ha!
Of course not, nevertheless, I have this idea
of continuously and seamlessly laying down a wall of stainless steel throughout
an entire room. As a welder I can’t wait to get by hands on a saw and go to it.
Now as far as squaring off the stainless steel perfectly will be another
adventure. I look forward to it because I’m that classy, able and willing to
cut and work with metal. How much fun is that! It’s not so much fun for Eric
because he doesn’t like the aesthetic idea of stainless steel for a continuous
wall in any one given room. I love that idea! I just do. I’ll have to come back
to this idea because Eric’s adamantly against it.
We hope to stay in La Casita for the next 60
years.
Yep, you heard it here first. We despise
moving and if it means leveling the house, one day, and starting from scratch
with all environmentally friendly and a quirky architectural layout then by all
means, but for now we love her daintiness, well deceiving looks (she’s got a
great poker face) and her intelligence as a-well-crafted house is something to
be grateful for because they sure don’t
make them like this anymore.
What more would a girl want from life?
This is a rock star place for rock stars.
I can imagine my Grandfather Al sitting here
in this kitchen as a curmudgeon drinking his coffee early in the mornings
watching the natural light come up over the house. I’m going to love it here! I
just know it.
We own land in a quiet and peaceful
neighborhood seven miles from downtown Minneapolis. Minneapolis is sacred
Native land to me and this land on this hill feels fabulous, at peace and ready
for the future.
This land breathes-in calmly to a busy and
full metropolitan lifestyle with patience, serene attitude and maturity. We’re
so grateful to be so close to our business, work and leisure to downtown
Minneapolis without living in the immediate urban setting with panhandlers,
battery and assault with blunt instruments like guns and garbage all day long.
We struck gold. We’re lucky individuals and
grateful to the Universes for what it has to offer not as an opportunity or as
something to capitalize upon but more so as a lifestyle to happiness. It’s so
quiet. It’s so quiet here for being in the middle of the city. Amazing.
I look forward to living here, growing old
and then like salmon making my Indian death journey home to El Salvador to die
upon my ancestors’ land. Now, pray to any God that that journey won’t be made
for many decades.
For now, I look forward to growing old and
happily here in Robbinsdale, Minnesota.
I can’t explain it to you how beautiful the trees
in the backyard are. The foliage of the neighbors’ trees in their backyard
along with ours creates one large green canopy to look out from the back of the
entire house on the top floor. It’s like looking straight into the loving eyes
of a Costa Rican jungle without the mean monkeys.
Looks sure are deceiving when homes are built
into a hillside. We look forward to adding to the Hobbit hole in time with
circular concrete blocks for cozy tunnel-looking-rooms. Wow! Now that’s an
idea. Live like a little Hobbit and we have the land to do just so. Incredible!
Ha!
Yesterday, I found out that the house’s
driveway sits on an Avenue that was never built. Hooray!
Finally Eric also talked me out of cutting,
constructing and mounting New England thick, (mahogany) chrome molding for the
entire house. Eric says that if I do that, then he’ll have to tell our
grandchildren the story as to how he lost his one eye.
“One
day your grandmother sawed, placed and secured heavy mahogany chrome molding to
the plaster covered walls and because of the weight of the wood it fell down
and…” I can just hear him and what tales he’ll spin with his little eye
patch for dramatico effect as our little ones look up at him in awe and wonder
at the outcome in the cause and effect of heavy building materials than the
house’s walls can support and grandmother and her ideas. Yes. No. No. No.
Eric tells me that La Casita is solid thick
concrete and wood. This baby isn’t going anywhere. However and nevertheless, I
discovered this morning that some of the walls are covered with plaster for a
finish. Weird. Interesting, we’ll have to do something about that eventually.
On the outside I’d like to place large refrigerator-like panels that’ll keep the
house quite warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Don’t get me started
about Geo-thermo, solar panels and such.
One last note, Eric also had to talk me out
of using marble for a backsplash in the kitchen because that material, too, is
far too heavy for these walls. “All we need is for the marble to fall on your
hands while you’re cutting vegetable in the kitchen.” Eric said. I was looking
forward to cutting marble. I’ve been waiting to do that for years.
Hopefully, since I conceded to Eric’s logical
ideas he’ll agree with me to purchase the same color blue as in the intro of
“The Simpsons” animation for a kitchen floor. He’s a little pensive about that
color. I’m keeping my fingers crossed because he is indeed horrified that I’ll
create something so different and unique to anything else he’s ever seen and
he’s right. I’m wondering and I need to research as to what to do with raw
materials and turn them into something sensationally comfortable, functional
yet not conventional.
Cheers!
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
(Nope. Only my deceased Grandmother called me
“Gabriela”. It’s Gabriel to everyone else.
The only other person who calls me by my full name is Mamasita (Eric’s 86 year
old mother, my mother) because she’s of that generation.) Splendid. Moving on.
*) We have internet at La Casita. It was an
ordeal.
Thank you to Andrew at Century Link.
This old house is impossible to route for internet. Andrew
drilled into plaster, drywall and one foot thick concrete. Wow! I was amazed at
his intelligence and ability. A smart man makes for a great gem in any company,
plus he could run the software to command internet accessibility. A true jack
of all trades, well mannered and able to intelligently speak to anyone. Hip!
Hip! Hooray to Andrew for his tremendous effort. His work didn’t go unnoticed
today.
*) The carpet cleaners didn’t show up for the
third day in a row. We’ve been communicating. I’m about to close up the
property for the evening. If the cleaners don’t show by Monday then I think I’m
going to rip the carpet up myself and have a new one installed or an entirely
new floor put in. I don’t know. I had to keep myself form ripping it out
completely this week. Cheers!
*) I love the Olympics and no, I rarely watch
them with the exception for the Opening and Closing Ceremonies, otherwise I
have much too much to do outside in this gorgeous Minnesota weather plus
responsibilities must be met. I have no choice. I have many more
responsibilities to meet before winter 2012 comes around. I love summers in
Minneapolis. It’s no different than summers in the city like Manhattan.
Minneapolis reminds me a little bit of Manhattan in the summer time. It must be
a smell or a feeling that I get at times. I miss the Manhattan bagels and the
meat, desert and bread delis. Oh, how I miss that!
*) Allergies! I can’t get rid of them. I’ve
had them for 8 continuous years ever since I moved to Minneapolis May of 2004.
My eyes water all day long. The doc says that there’s nothing she can do about
it. Too bad.
*) Wishing you an amazing weekend. I know I
know so much happened in the world this week. I meant to write about it but it
just didn’t happen. I haven’t watched news this week. Although I’m reading.
Yes, I read anything I can get my little hands on. Especially political news
and information.
*) Accusations
of any nature can only be made if and when evidence can be substantiated with
facts otherwise, it’s another witch hunt, its heresay, it’s stupid and deadly.
This is America, and we don’t incarcerate our
citizens and civilians unless proven guilty otherwise, move to China if we’re
going to start witch hunts as the Tibetans know all too well and have found out
what it’s like to be taken hostage, prisoners and forced into submission in such
a modern era. Shame. Our Muslim citizens ought to be left quite alone otherwise
there will be serious repercussions to political actions, lies and deceit.
*) I have so many thoughts about droughts,
farmers, American politics and Egypt but for now I’m going to keep my thoughts
to myself and try to make some sense of it all.
*) Last but not least.
Batman Screening and Opening:
I’m speechless.
Prayers are with the living and the victims
who died last night (12 in all together and 30 injured, I believe) at the
opening / screening of Batman, the film. What. I’m speechless. What on Earth
happened?
Why have people gone mad?
Please, use one’s frontal lobe rather than
one’s amphibian brains.
No matter how angry, mad, outraged and
enraged one may be please control one’s Chi, Chakras and energy. Pick up a
hobby! Any hobby will do. I love to embroider. How about it? Anything other
than murdering people in public places for the sheer insanity of…
I have absolutely nothing to say that will
make it better thus wisdom has taught me not to say anything in times of deep
sorrow. I’m deeply sorry for the loss
and injury to life at such a magnificent and beautiful occasion such as the
christening of any film. How painful.
I don’t know what to say; start a blog and be
outraged on the page where murder doesn’t occur. Collect rocks, stamps and
baseball cards. Whatever. I’m grateful that this is a fluke and not a cultural
American lifestyle.
We’re Americans damn it!
No, as much as we might not like America as a
whole, one aspect of life that we take great pride in is the public safety of
our citizens and civilians.
Please talk to your kids, youth and young
adults. Please, please.
Prayers are with the solar system tonight and
breath-of-life. My thoughts are with the Americans as I go into dusk prayers.
Happy Sabbath.
July 19, 2012
“You are just as capable of
making a mistake as anyone else. By insisting too eagerly upon a small right,
you may turn it into a wrong against yourself and also against your neighbor.” - Lawrence G. Lovasik
“You don't know how to love
God and your neighbor unless you look to the law to define it.” - Randall Terry
Happy Thursday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
Minnesota Freeway Driving:
I drive like a little grandmother upon our
Minneapolis freeways until I get comfortable.
I found out yesterday that the Minnesotans
don’t use cruise control while driving in the city freeways. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.
I’ve got a lot to learn about freeway
driving.
I’ve been an urban walker or an urban driver
for the past eight years and I’m constantly looking out for bikers and walkers.
Cheers.
More later.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
*) I don’t like rude Americans.
*) Yesterday evening at our new home at 5:50
P.M. an African American man in his late forties dressed like a teenager in
baggy shorts, an oversized T-shirt wearing a billed-sports-hat stood at about
an average of 6’ 1” and 310 pounds; cut across the side of our front yard,
knocked on our front door, hunched his shoulders and cranked his neck as to
peeked-in through a small glass window at the center of the front door (which I
hate that little window) and mindlessly with poignant intent looked straight
into our kitchen and made direct eye contact with me as I stood in the kitchen
doorway painting around the trim.
Immediately I felt violated, annoyed and
intuitively I knew not to answer the front door to this stranger uninvited and
unbeknownst to me randomly knocking without so much as an invitation.
His wily attitude didn’t make him one of the
neighbors and it was obvious that he was up to no good.
I went to the front door, calmly opened it,
stood with the might of a Kung Fu master and the man abruptly said to me:
“Where Mikey at?” (What the hell type of
ghetto communication was that! Get the hell off my front stoop!)
“Hi, how are you?” I said to the altered man.
(It was obvious.)
“Where Mikey at?”
“Excuse me? I don’t know any Mikey. You’re knocking
on a stranger’s door.” I stared at him like the nuisance that he was.
The man with the blood shut, glassy and
dilated eyes said, “Fine. How are you.”
Immediately I awoke him from some altered
spell and he came to his senses.
I could sense that he knew that I was far
more dangerous than he was with my good manners and ability to shoot him on the
spot for trespassing upon private property and I would’ve if he’d gotten any
more out of line.
He knew very well not to trespass upon
private property.
“Where Mikey at?” That black and ugly ghetto form of speech got old quickly by the
third time he demanded an answer from me as to Mikey’s whereabouts. How the
hell should I know ‘where Mikey at?’
“I don’t know. I can’t help you. Do you make
it a habit to go around knocking on stranger’s doors?”
“I knocked on a grey house, two doors down
and no one answered.”
I stared at him like the bum that he was.
“My wife told me to come here and knock on
this door. She said that…” He went into some minor diatribe about bullshit.”
(Liar, liar pants on fire.)
I didn’t care if his wife had sent him to the
moon to knock on an alien’s front door.
It was bad manners and idiotically-deadly for
him as a black man to go around randomly knocking on stranger’s doors and
trespassing upon private property, because that could get him shot, if not then
killed.
I was appalled at this stranger’s behavior,
speech and lack of a proper education.
I thought: ‘Careful, we’ll gentrify the
entire neighborhood into a Scandinavian Harlem where former President Clinton
keeps offices as of now.’
Not once in six years have we had some random
stranger knock on our front door uninvited here in Uptown unless the individual
represented some company on official business while this black man represented
his bad breath, altered mind and atrocious communication and interactive
manners with strangers.
One doesn’t demand answers from strangers and
people when one is trespassing onto their private property. It’s not only
foolish but also stupid to do so.
If I would’ve decided to be a complete
Spaniard I could’ve been completely cruel in ways that that man would’ve left
my front door without a penis intact.
I day dreamed for one split moment at aiming a gun by his
foot and shooting within centimeters of his worn out tennis shoes.
I didn’t laugh out loud because if I would’ve shot near his
foot not only would he have danced an altered dance but also he would’ve gone home
and stood up to his wife and said, “No, you go trespass upon private property
and get shot at.”
Careful. I’m not some idiotic little girl
here who just moved into the neighborhood.
I’m the Doña.
The Mrs.
The woman of the house and no man shall take
such stupid liberties with home owners.
I’m quite New England!
I’m of the Founding Families and no, you
don’t go around knocking on the front door of anyone’s home unless you’re
invited or it’s obvious that you’re a neighbor and wants, needs or must convey
direct communication with your neighbors otherwise, stay off my lawn because
well, I’m that type of New England woman.
We bought a home in Robbinsdale so as to be
left quite perfectly alone. I hate soliciting of any type for any reason. I
hate it! If I can’t keep people from soliciting out on the streets like hell if
I’ll let it happen on our front yard.
Rude and vulgar Americans!
*) At 7:00 P.M I opened the back kitchen door
to our flat and there stood a twelve year old
Caucasian couple badly in need of a fattening meal.
The twelve year old girl without any lines to
her body looked at me like I was an inconvenience to her and I looked back at
her like she was the real nuisance in our space which is still our home until
we move out on the 31st.
“We’ll be out of here soon.” Said the
slumlord.
A slumlord, because he lowered the rent, he
isn’t going to repaint the flat after six years of having occupants here and
the new renters don’t have to pay the gas bill as we were forced to, not to
mention that he lied about mice in the apartment which we’ve taken care of each
and every time, the mold, the dust and everything else wrong with the flat.
Cheap and dangerous slumlord.
“That’ll be great.” My voice cut across the
air like a dangerous weapon. Upon the insistence and request of the following
renters they wanted a second look.
Now, I’ve been taught by professional
landlords that a second look while a property is still occupied is considered
unnecessary and rude because moving is quite stressful upon people as it is.
Drapes were left open, lights were left on and someone had touched our things
with their dirty little paws not to mention that they were running one hour
behind schedule.
“It’s being snoopy.” Said Eric before going
to bed. “People want to see what other people have so that they can compare
their lives to others.”
I hate uncouth and rude Americans.
Rude Americans are ugly and not people that
one ought to do business with nor associate with them either. They’re not worth
a lick of time, money or effort. I’ll memorize the twelve year old couple’s
faces forever and request not to get involved with such trash.
Ugly and rude Americans.
I don’t like rude Americans.
I can’t stand them.
They ought not to be allowed to reproduce.
July 18, 2012
“Manual labor to my father
was not only good and decent for it's own sake but, as he was given to saying,
it straightened out one's thoughts.” -
Mary Ellen Chase
“Language ought to be the
joint creation of poets and manual workers.” - George Orwell
“I fantasize about having a
manual job where I can come home at night, read a book and not feel responsible
for what will happen the next day.” - Jodie Foster
“I love being in my garden. I
don't plant a lot of exotic flora, but I do spend a lot of time outside doing
manual labour.” - Jacqueline
Bisset
“I see journalists as the
manual workers, the laborers of the word. Journalism can only be literature
when it is passionate.” - Marguerite Duras
“I would say I'd rather dig a
ditch, you know, do hard, manual labor than write lyrics.” - Natalie Merchant
Happy Wednesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
I’m quite an inclusive individual; I just don’t
like it when I’m culturally lied to about exclusiveness such as classism,
elitism and hierarchy.
---
--- ---
I’m sore, but it’s a great sore!
Since I’m a middle class American woman by
tax income (not necessarily culturally) and classy
to say the least I painted walls for four hours yesterday with
environmentally friendly paint. It was a blast! I haven’t painted walls in over
17 years.
I was covered in paint from head to toe even
my hair had paint in it. It was cute and obvious that I’m not a professional
interior house painter, yet I loved working with my own two bare hands before
the professionals get in there.
I painted quietly, alone and meticulously in
stark white which Eric is completely horrified by the look of stark white walls
and ceilings, but that’s how I want the entire house ultimately in complete
stark white. I love it!
Yes, I know, I know. We can afford to hire an entire professional painting crew to come
in and jazz the entire house all up, however.
I’m who I am and I wanted to get into the
house before the carpet cleaners and plumber came, the sheet rocking began and
the movers. What can I say? I’m an American woman with a vision. The house is
so quiet and peaceful. I can’t hear the street from inside nor the neighbors!
Thank goodness!
My father taught me how to professionally
paint $500,000.00 (five hundred thousand) dollar “shacks” on Park Point as the
Star Tribune little kid writer ever so unkindly compared the homes on Park
Point “shacks”. Dumb. (I’ll personally show him Duluth shacks if he wishes to
see the real thing. Obviously, he’s not been to Gary, Indiana.) It’s so obvious
when people know very little about land and property value yet off the cuff
make remarks which they know nothing about.
Of course, we didn’t grow up in one of the
newer multi-million dollar complexes on Park Point which have resurrected as of
the past 17 years, but the ten or so waterfront properties my Grandfather and
Father owned were used as rental properties for a time and not only did my
father teach me to take care of land and properties each summer but also one of
my other many responsibilities was to sand and varnish our entire wooden
sailboat every spring for about a decade. Thank you, Dada.
I’m not afraid of hard work, picking up
garbage and physical labor.
I was taught that to be classy and well
rounded is to roll one’s sleeves up and go to it.
To be a lady of the world means cleaning,
fixing or repositioning something to one’s satisfaction in great and proper
order. I’m meticulous and nothing gets passed me thus I like to be extremely
clean and orderly. It feels good! Actually it feels great, to have a strong and
well rounded knowledge of many aspects of life.
One, of the greatest projects that I’ll take
great delight in, over at our new home is to sand and varnish a set of steps
leading to a family room. Eric says that the varnish might be too slippery and
I think he’s right but I can’t wait to see what those steps look like a newly
varnish wooden sailboat. Hooray!
I drove home with an inner smile on my face
yesterday because I can’t explain it to you how much got done in one day. No,
four hours of painting doesn’t even begin to cover a full day’s work. So much
happens in one day.
It’s a cute little life from making films to
painting walls (if I want to) and being in touch with people throughout all
over the world. What would I do without my cell phone? I don’t know. My cell
phone works harder than I do. Even if I’m idling, I’m still working towards
progressiveness and the freedom of others. What
a wonderful life!
Yesterday, I discovered a little secret about
the people who previously owned La Casita.
At one point there was or were children about
my hip height who happened to be booger pickers. I found boogers stuck to the
walls up and down a staircase, on the kitchen walls and in a family room. I
couldn’t help but gag and then laugh at the little booger pickers. It’s all
right I took care of it and no more boogers plastered to the walls. Gross. Yes.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
What a beautiful life. Wishing you love,
peace and greatness in all the little aspects of life which form the greater
aspects of life. Nothing is insignificant and all is possible. I wish you hope,
joy, love, peace and above all respect. Peace.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. Many thoughts…
*) How cool is my dad? A retired M.D. and
guess what he just did over the past month?
He just finished helping his next door neighbor
demolish the entire house next door to the neighbors which they bought which at
one point our family owned. Demolition. Fun! My dad said that he took great
delight in the demolition of that house. He said that it was fun and hard work.
Wow, I can imagine what it must be like to
take apart a five hundred thousand dollar “shack”. Ha!
July 17, 2012
“My parents would always say,
'It doesn’t matter if it's a guy picking up the garbage or the President of the
United States, treat everybody as you would want to be treated.” - Dan Marino
“I see a lot of people who
love their jobs. I see some garbage collectors smiling as they go about their
work.” -
Willie Stargell
“If you put garbage in a
computer nothing comes out but garbage. But this garbage, having passed through
a very expensive machine, is somehow ennobled and none dare criticize it.”
- Rory Bremner
“In Beverly Hills... they
don't throw their garbage away. They make it into television shows.” - Woody Allen
“New York City has finally
hired women to pick up the garbage, which makes sense to me, since, as I've
discovered, a good bit of being a woman consists of picking up garbage.”
- Anna Quindlen
“It's important to bring
things back from the Space Station because, unlike somebody living at the house
where the garbage truck comes by twice a week, they don't have that in space.”
- Mark Kelly
Corrections: I was
thinking way too fast at times, yesterday and left out words. Thank you for
your patience. Ha!
---
--- ---
Happy Tuesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance? No, seriously, shall we? Ha!
Ha! Ha! Oh, it’s hilarious, isn’t it? I’m four days behind my Gregorian studies
of the solar system. I think I finally got the date right on the calendar for a
change. Whew!
---
--- ---
The Quran. What a beautiful word.
I won’t construct this in any which manner.
May Allah be with us all: on this literary
skateboarding journey.
Allah knows best.
Allah knows our acute understanding of the
following… sanctity, sacred and purity.
I would like to say many things, but I’m also
standing speechless over here.
It’s looking neither good moralistically nor
ethically for Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Kuwait, Iraq, Syria, Israel, Egypt
and South Sudan and many other Nations bordering these regions.
I can’t seem to either make heads or tails
out of the Quran or the ways in which men interpret the Quran nothing more and
nothing less.
What does one mean that Iranian leaders have
decided to strategically place bombs surrounding the Strait of Hormuz? What.
What type of reasoning is that? Creepy. What if the Iranian people get blown to
pieces? For goodness sake!
I’ve read almost everything I could get my
hands on religious holy books from global religious regions. Why wouldn’t I?
Nevertheless, is religion conducted by man or is religion the conductor? Yes?
Si. No? Okay.
I don’t really know what to write about Iran’s lack of leadership and
their need and want to build up their nuclear missiles rather than build
schools, community centers and such other public areas like municipal and
regional public land, art, sciences and mathematics in resources and
opportunities to and for The Citizens of any governing Nation.
[I don’t get it. What’s there to get? Well, a
lot of understanding and knowledge as to what keeps Iran and most of the Middle
Eastern countries in the Stone Age. (Common on. It’s not so scary a world. The
Middle East must figure it out for the sake of The Iranian and The Middle
Eastern Peoples. Hooray!)]
I
mean, wasn’t The Middle East going to
figure out how to develop their desert regions into viable harvesting and
productive certified green organic, vegan, free range, lead-free and toxic-free
public food and poultry resources for the People of The Middle East as well as
Africa it’s-starving-sister-and-other-regions needing and wanting to freely
trade-in-enterprises in such as non-violent resources, ideas and progressive
solutions towards ending the starvation of a globe? Whew! Hold on. I’ve got to
breathe in this dense humidity.
In
other words, why aren’t trees being planted all over the Middle Eastern desert
regions? (Wouldn’t that be a dream career?) Growing trees in the desert for one
global outcome in respect and regard towards one global united purpose in the
luxury of peace so as to eradicate starvation.
Who doesn’t want to afford peace? (I can’t
imagine anything classier than what to do with outstanding Middle Eastern oil
wealth.)
Nothing’s impossible.
Life requires, H2O, Oxygen and
photosynthesis.
Shall we get to it?
Shall we plant trees in the
desert-global-regions throughout The Earth?
Please, I thought the Middle East was going
to become a peaceful trading center and cultural Mecca for the main purpose to
support the free enterprise of commerce, understanding and freely trading of
ideas and above all valuable resources The Freedom of Speech. (Some of my
favorite intellectual conversations have been held with Middle Eastern Muslims,
White Supremacists and Catholic Punks. What’s there not to love about the respectful exchange of ideas? Words don’t
cost anything. Words are free and they belong to anyone brave enough to utter
valuable thoughts, dreams and concepts.)
What does the Quran have to do with how men
spend currency on the purchasing of riffles, missiles and bombs to murder our
global children? Really.
What type of religious-industry is-in-it for
the enterprise of religious genocide? What.
If you need it broken down then it can be done, however.
Please, no.
Don’t make a woman state that which is most
common and obvious in notion and concept.
Americans think the world of the
Middle East!
We respect our American immigrant
ancestors and the knowledge which they passed down from generation to
generation on how to survive an ever changing climatic environment, politico
economics and keeping religion out of politics otherwise that’s a whole another can of worms as the
Americans are so fond of saying once in a great while so as to explain that
subjects are indeed complex at the best of times.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. While the many regions of the Middle
East decide to leave the Stone Age, here on the streets of America our children
starve, education is poor (all one has to do is look at our dilapidated school
buildings), civilian and citizen violence is atrocious and murder is the anthem
of the many weird and crazy.
I can only hope that the Middle East can
begin to self-sufficiently get themselves out of the Stone Age and into modern
times in the next two years so that our American leadership and its People can
put this country back together.
I love the Middle East, but for goodness sake
The Middle East as well as Africa as-an-entire region-continent must become
independently self-sufficient and capable of progressive development because
America is a beautiful lady who can no longer carry the boulder up the steep
hill in the name of religious, political and economical genocide.
*) “A man is nothing without land.”
Do you know how awesome it is to own land
here in the Metro-Twin Cities area of Hennepin County?
It’s like a sweet dream come true. Oh, wait.
I’m still trying to wake myself up from this incredible dream called America.
She’s gorgeous.
We could put-in an Olympic size pool in our
backyard! For right now it’s going to become my forest since no alleyway cuts
through the fenced in yard. Our neighbor’s backyard ends and begins where ours
also ends and begins. Yeah! No strangers on a daily basis going through our
garbage cans and leaving garbage up and down the alleyway for us to pick up.
Hooray! Picking up garbage on a weekly basis for six years from our back ally
got old quickly.
*) No, I’m not classist. Within a 20 block
radius from our home we personally know several doctors living in the area and
it can only mean that since doctors must uphold to a certain set of ethics in
their professions then these amazing people will
not only be ethical to live amongst but also relaxed. Thank goodness!
We chose to live within 10 miles of downtown,
Minneapolis.
We didn’t care if our neighbors were trash
collectors or diplomats by trade.
We cared only for a low crime rate; low
assault and battery with an assault weapon which seems to be uptown’s form of
criminal choice.
I can’t wait to not have to deal with people
soliciting money in the form of panhandling on a daily basis.
And! I can’t explain it to you, but there’s
no garbage blowing around on the streets of Robbinsdale. Do you know how cool
that is? Way cool! I can’t wait to shop at a Co-Op in Robbinsdale. Almost no
garbage on the streets. I’m speechless and grateful. Thank you!
July 16, 2012
“Love comes when manipulation
stops; when you think more about the other person than about his or her
reactions to you. When you dare to reveal yourself fully. When you dare to be
vulnerable.” - Joyce Brothers
“I do respect people's faith,
but I don't respect their manipulation of that faith in order to create fear
and control.” - Javier Bardem
“I've not seen in my lifetime
any politician who is a heroic figure. The manipulation that all politicians
use on one level or another is so transparent.” - Dean Koontz
“If there are four equations
and only three variables, and no one of the equations is derivable from the
others by algebraic manipulation then there is another variable missing.”
- Talcott Parson
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
I think that compassion is a sign of high
intelligence.
I also think that humans revert back to the “chicken
brain” all too often, like commercial, marketing and advertisement writing
does; such writing aims for the lowest human common denominator as far as fear,
mediocrity and cynicism (dog like) subjects are concerned disguised under the
cloak of lies, manipulation and deep rooted fears of the all infinite power to
think outside a main frame of reference. Funny, right? Right.
Such manipulative and abusive writing uses,
rather than produces an image to sell more often than not crappy and badly made
products or ideas to a consumer mass who accepts with their amphibian brains
(the back of the brain) rather than denies with their frontal lobe the whoring
of our children, communities and dignity to sell an image rather than to create
beauty in the world. (Anytime, a child is used to sell mediocre products that
may kill a human then think of the product as an H.I.V. prostitute-child and
most likely you wouldn’t bring them home to meet your parents.) Ha! Ha! Ha!
(LOVE IS NOT MANIPULATION.)
I think that to have an innate ability to be
compassionate is to have the intelligence for an overall picture of what’s
really happening in any given situation.
First with the above written, I hate that Park Point Duluth Minnesota
is treated like a tourist commodity rather than having that sacred land be
respected, admired and left alone to continue to be a Native American burial
ground and to allow for the neighborhood to be a safe and peaceful neighborhood
for its residents and their visitors.
It seems that most often than not that when the city of Duluth is hurting
for meager tourist dollars then the political, advertising and marketing street
peddlers like to push Park Point unto the tourists, simply because there’s a
lack of imagination to sell anything else or any other “commodity” other than
nature. What a shame that nature is considered a commodity rather than a
sister, a daughter and a giver of life.
It’s like a father selling its most beautiful
daughter to the streets for a few pieces of silver. Shame. When the city of
Duluth has nothing else going for it then it sells Park Point.
The city of Duluth is a cheap little city
that has no real ideas as to how to generate real revenue like major
metropolises do, thus it’s a city fallen down and in ruins with the ghost remnants
of 1900’s millionaires whose money was made from the raping, pilledging and plundering of the land to begin. When the historical and
wealthy leaders of any community set up the lowest common denominator as a high
standard of thinking, believing and acting then it manifests into something
tangible and real for the future like the present. Shame.
I hate the mediocrity of Duluth because I
love the sacred land of Duluth otherwise, if I was truly indifferent to Duluth
then I’d not mention it again. I’d let it slip through some dark abysmal hole
in the galaxy, which don’t think that I don’t consider with the lack of…
The city of Duluth and it’s political,
marketing and advertising peddlers shouldn’t really sell Park Point to the
public when the Duluthians themselves hate Park Point. Funny, right? Right.
Don’t give me that look. I picked up garbage
for fifteen years straight while living on Park Point. I’d walk out of our
backyard with rubber gloves and a garbage bag in hand and pick up used condoms,
beer cans and bottles, wrappers, left over bon fire foods, plastic bags, shoes,
dirty underwear, wet soggy bread, rubber tires and any other imaginable type of
garbage you may think of. After the second year of picking up garbage, one
comes to realize that the city of Duluth and the rest of its citizens hate Park
Point. Actions speak louder than words.
I love Park Point Duluth Minnesota because
it’s not only sacred land but it’s also the land of an old growth forest and as
any semi-intelligent human may realize, old growth forests are indeed becoming
rare in the world today.
No, old growth forests are not to be
disturbed by the magnitudes, because it brings shame to the land. Duh! “People
don’t know how to do anything!” Ha! A lady I met is so funny!
I don’t know what to tell you to get you to
think with your frontal lobe about Duluth Minnesota and the dire financial
state it’s in, but I can tell you this: the mediocrity to sell Park Point, one
of Duluth’s greatest natural wonders, when it brings much too stress to her
back is like asking Park Point to push a boulder uphill for the rest of her
eternal days. Ha! Mean kids, have indeed become mean adults. Yikes! Where’s the strong leadership?
Mediocrity breeds insanity, deprivation and corruption to that which is not
required to do so.
The land of Park Point is a beautiful petite,
dainty and fragile woman for an eco-system who happens to get raped on a
nightly basis by its locals, thus why should the tourists think any differently
of her? Yes, the locals like to fuck each other on top of the Native American
burial grounds. Yikes, scary little people without any reverence for the
sacred. Don’t sell me anything Duluthian. Please. The Minnesotans know better.
Truly tragic. For that reason alone, I’d consider leaving the rest of Duluth as
an environmental pimp to take to the pole himself.
Note: After the devastating floods 2012 in
Duluth as a leader I would’ve shut Duluth’s doors to tourists. I have many
great debating points on that.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. Robbinsdale, Minnesota here we come! I
look forward to living amongst doctors for respectful neighbors! We close this
morning on a “Leave it to Beaver” contemporary home. Thank the Gods in helping
us fulfill the American Dream with a white picket fence around it. We’re so
grateful!
*) Bill Moyers. Thank you! I have so much
respect for that man! Thank you for asking the tough questions and allowing
your guests to answer your questions without rudely cutting them off.
*) What’s the matter with the Egyptians? We
know you to be better than that. Why so destructive? What gives?
*) Tomorrow, Iran. Sigh. Why so destructive?
*) How about those solar flares! Incredible!
*) Oh, to our friends who are farmers dealing
with drought. We think of you!
July 13, 2012
“A vegan diet takes care of
most of what we need to do. But you'll also want to minimize the use of oils
generally, because while olive oil and other vegetable oils are better for your
heart than chicken fat, they are as fattening as animal fats.” - Neil Barnard
“Basically, the reason I'm
vegan is because when I was about 16 or 17 years old, I began to understand that
we don't need to contribute to the killing and exploitation of animals to feed
our bodies correctly.” -
Daniel Johns
“For me, going vegan was an
ethical and environmental decision. I'm doing the right thing by the animals.” - Alexandra Paul
“If the whole world went vegan, there would be less war. How you
eat determines your mood and your outlook on life.” - Alexandra Paul
Correction: Carlton County’s electric lines weren’t down yesterday for more
than 24 hours rather it was the voice and data service provider (phone lines).
That meant no incoming or outgoing calls to 911 and individuals. Yikes. Can you
say competition? Competition.
Happy Friday the 13th! Boo! Ha!
Aloha.
As a Maya, the number 13 is not only
wonderful! It’s a number that has strength, ability and greatness.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
We’re wishing you an amazing weekend amongst
respectful, thoughtful and kind individuals.
We’re on the homestretch to the couch. I
can’t say that I’m leaving the flat this weekend, not if we can help it. So
much happens in one week! Wow! So much life. We’re ready to take a seat and
relax with movies, organic gluten free vegan pastries and oh, a beer or two.
Yum!
(I’d hate to admit this because I love food
but with the bad restaurant service we’ve encountered in the past few years, I
could possibly give up restaurant eating all together and go straight for the
vegan pastries sold in local neighborhood bakeries.) Are you kidding me? I can
always whip up a great and tasty dinner at home, but pastries are labor
intensive. Thank you for the vegan pastries and vegan cake. I was so overjoyed
last night.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
*) We’re clocking in at 20 walking miles this
week! I feel Grrrrrrrrrreat!
*) A
little research in correction for you: To build a school in America on
average will cost $10-20 million dollars for materials and construction. Any
more than that and somebody’s taking a good chunk of change home with them at
the end of each day. Creepy.
*) U.S. House. What are they thinking? What
have they done? Will they go to hell for it?
The U.S. House has relaxed rules on mining in
Minnesota.
I’m speechless.
What type of white-devil lobbyists do the
mining companies have on their side? Oh, my goodness, who’s trying to send
Minnesota back into the dark ages? Why? Please. The hazardous contaminated
waste material alone to the water systems will probably cause some serious
health hazards to the Minnesotans.
Look, I may not respect my foes, but I never
wish for them to be murdered through and by the means of hazardous waste
materials due to mining and corporate environmental rape. I’ll do everything in
my power to keep my foes from dying and to keep them alive or from getting
harmed because that’s a code of honor that I was taught, brought up and live
by.
*) What. No phone lines to most of Carlton
County for over a 24 hour period?
Get your rear ends out of your ends and begin
rebuilding Carlton County.
Please, who do you think the citizens of that
area are?
Not idiots that’s for sure. These well
refined farmers and genuinely intelligent people understand that corporations
make a killing off of the services they provide to their rural regional areas
from annual billing thus the excuse that there’s not enough money to get voice
and data services to THE PEOPLE is not only done in poor taste but also its
poorly conducted business in general.
I thought that most intelligent businesses
did indeed have backup plans and protocol set in place for when natural
disasters occur. Otherwise, who’s sitting on a pile of money?
To have any company not restore or bring
phone line services to The People is not only archaic, full of bad excuses as
well as irresponsible top management but also a business model disgrace.
The customers pay for their services annually
thus there must be an emergency fund set aside by the phone provider in times
of difficult weather that’s when the voice and data service company ought to be
showing off how ready, well prepared and capable they are under pressure and in
a crises, otherwise, I’d say, there, needs to be a little friendly competition
and the customers need to start looking elsewhere for their providers such as
community run Co-Ops no differently than that which existed in the form of the
old Co-Op electric power company which was run in Carton County. Please. Econ
101.
*) Oh, how tragic! Really, our U.S. Olympic
uniforms were made in China? Are Americans not proud of our very own garment
districts here in America? U.S. uniforms made-in-China is like saying that any
other country in the world could sow a better American flag than the Americans.
Not so! What happened? Who dropped the ball?
I find that maybe the athletes ought to have the
choice to boycott wearing these Chinese made uniforms. If you have no idea then
our people, too, can sew and do anything that has been outsourced by our
American thoughtless corporate tycoons. What have they done? What have they
done? What have they done? Why do the Americans hate the Americans so much?
Thoughtlessness. Inconsideration.
*) Well, I figure that with the $200 million plus some donations that were made to
Penn State due to their reputation as a child rapist campus, the only way to
get a glimpse of hope from this University is to do some serious soul searching
and hope that they don’t go to some Roman Catholic hell and burn for eternity
along with every Catholic priest that’s ever raped little children. Gross. Once
an institution has a reputation as child rapists, well then what more is there
to say about their leadership? Child rapists.
My point is this: If, hypothetically I were in charge of
seeing those $200 million plus donations distributed then as a leader I’d cut a
check for the total sum to our
brothers and sisters in Krasnodar Krai, Russia as a token of goodwill and as a gift with
no strings attached as they face devastation and sorrow due to floods.
I would do that to teach
Penn State the lesson in humanitarian restitution, giving without expectation,
without selfishness and definitely as a tool to get them to think about what
it’s like to be humanitarian rather than destructive, immature and crude.
Now, I’m aware that Russia
has more millionaires per capita however that’s not the philosophical point
made here. The point is that Penn State ought to learn to give to another
foreign region in country without any control as to what is done with those
donated funds and to learn to be a giver and not a taker.
Personally, I can’t believe
that the entire athletic department didn’t shut down?
How scary for athletes to
enter into those showers day-in-and-out knowing perfectly well that child rape
was performed there on those premises and that the cries of children are
imprinted upon those walls. Cries of mercy.
Is Penn State daft? By the
looks and sounds of it, yes. Can you imagine having that type of mediocre
leadership as Penn State does in their athletic department? Yikes. Now, I think
academics must take a strong priority at Penn State and football a backseat for
a good decade (one year per child raped and cover up). Don’t you? Of course,
you do.
There will need to be a
long road to recovery because Penn State is not sitting pretty. A community in
which the men do the raping and the women let it occur is no community at all.
It’s simply an empty shell of a community pretending to play house.
Perhaps, Penn State is
hell and that’s where people go to burn for their sins. I’m not sure. It
doesn’t look good for Penn.
I think that Penn ought to
have all of its economic athletic privileges withdrawn for a period of a decade
(one for each child raped) and that’s minor for the atrocities and the heinous
crimes committed against society at large. Personally, I’d shut down the entire
institution because anyway you look at it there isn’t quality leadership at
Penn State and that’s where corruption begins, lives and thrives as a dirty
little secret.
July 12, 2012
The Disaster Relief Act of 1974 (Public Law 93-288) is a United States federal law that established the process of presidential disaster declarations. At one point, more than one hundred federal agencies were involved in handling disasters and emergencies. In 1979, President Jimmy Carter consolidated many of them into the new Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) by Executive Order 12127.
In November 1988, the United States Congress amended the Act and renamed it the Stafford Disaster Relief and Emergency Assistance Act (Public Law 100-707).
This act was further amended by the Disaster Mitigation Act of 2000.
---
The Federal Emergency Management Association (FEMA) supports state and local governments in emergency planning, preparedness, mitigation, response and recovery responsibilities in peacetime and wartime. FEMA provides funding, technical assistance, supplies, equipment and training to state and local governments when major disasters are beyond their resources. Earthquakes, floods, hurricanes, tornadoes, nuclear power plant accidents, dam safety, radiological and hazardous materials incidents and strategic nuclear attack are a few of the areas in which FEMA assists.
Happy Thursday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
Oh, goodness one would think the other was
raised in a barn. Let’s Tango simply
so that we may slow down. Yes? No. Why not? How about a slow Tango? Go ahead no
one will think ill of another.
---
--- ---
Quickly now: if you aren’t caught up with the literary
lessons from the past week then the philosophical inclination in tone, the
structural arch and the main points will be lost. Moving on. Next.
A subtle anti-climatic paradox as always…
Main point: St. Louis County, Carlton County, Esko and
Thomson areas, Fond du Lac and any other areas of Tribal Native American
flooded zones as well as any Northern Minnesota areas affected by the floods of
summer 2012 are indeed in need of federal disaster emergency assistance, a
final assessment from FEMA and a final decision from the President of the United
States of America: Mr. Presidente Barack Obama; along with the governing funds
by THE PEOPLE.
Well, what about it? Let’s see if we get this
point right.
I mean we can take the journey many of which
ways. Where shall we begin?
First, let’s begin with a moral point: It’s a fact that many in the whole sum
total of the Northland’s regions of Minnesota were indeed destroyed due to
excessive flooding in concentrated areas. What are we talking about? We’re
talking about 1,400 miles of road that need repair in St. Louis County alone.
We’re talking about foundations to structures ruined completely. Period. In
this high heat mold sits comfortably and that’s not pleasant for many. A musty
smell takes over the atmosphere and ultimately it must be dealt with for the
sake of THE PEOPLE.
Now, the moral point being this: Not only is mold unhealthy and it must
indeed be dealt with and properly dispose of such a contaminant but more so for
the overall health of citizens, civilians and others living in the overall regional
area and to celebrate their importance to great general health and well-being of-the-ever-so-important People.
THE PEOPLE’s lives, livelihoods and
communities are at stake here and neither will the distribution in federal
disaster and emergency aid funds become the personal property of the state of
Minnesota nor city government or any other private contractors and any interest
groups.
$110 million dollars are necessary in Federal
relief aid alone in the region for the necessary reconstructing of infrastructure
through such vital funds.
Next point: There will indeed be observation, analysis
and an overall plan to proceed forward from FEMA and in which ever manner
according to assessment and protocol.
Now, with that said the distribution of
Federal disaster and emergency aid funds, governmental grants, private
contractors, finance distributors and others; Budgets will and must be required
to cover for the public sector vs. the private (such as parks and such vs.
private properties, homes and such.)
Now, as economics 101 serves me right: I was taught that 15%-20% is accounted for
any administrative, bureaucratic information in the form of record keeping
overhead costs in the manner of community record keeping, community record
distribution funds and community miscellaneous administrative records.
(You understood that. It’s basic
accounting in the manner of record keeping and Federal disaster and emergency
relief funds in regional expenditures. (Very important.)
Every scent must be accounted for or the
books will not-only-not come-out balanced or accurate but they may also cause
to cover improper personal expenditures and special interest groups’ frivolous
spending and possibly inaccurately created subsidies that which have very
little to no consideration in the overall interest of communities and regions:
Such funds are important towards the rebuilding, resettling, restructuring,
reconstructing and in concluding the overall distribution of funds in
finalizing and maintaining a high standard of federal disaster and emergency
assistance. Period.)
Furthermore, as economics will have it: this
15%-20% of administrative overhead costs are then divided by needs of payroll.
In other words, most often than not the
executives and head management will collect about 40%-45% of that overall
15%-20% of administrative payouts in exchange for their responsibilities in
kind. Which you can do the math. It leaves the rest of that administrative cost
for other more “subordinate payrolls” in the chain of command. Yes? Yes. Of
course.
This is simply a point nothing more and
nothing less in which an economic disparity may ensue only because well,
frankly bureaucratic-means seems to at times tedious, arduous, full of paper
shuffling and debate as to what is equal in pay for services administered by
those who are effective in their administrative work as well as if they can
reach out to each and every citizen touched by difficult flooding hardship.
Federal disaster and emergency aid is of the essence when it comes to relieving
communities of their sorrows.
Minor point with an incredible outcome: I’ve
been informed that 90% of the flooded Northern regional areas don’t have flood
insurance. How painful for these folks, these amazing people whose organic
farms went under water, their homes destroyed and their lives changed.
Let’s breathe.
I think we got it right.
Aside from that 20% of administrative
bureaucratic overhead costs, there’s still 80% of that $110 million dollars
that will need to be accounted for: by The People and other miscellaneous needs
for infrastructure, municipalities and most importantly The People as always.
Note: Although it’s looking as though $80 million
alone is needed for public infrastructure therefore that leaves the remainder
of that budget to work with towards restoring private property damage. I could
deconstruct it for you but I won’t because it’d be too embarrassing and funny.
In conclusion, it seems that not only is
there a great need for public and municipal infrastructure-reconstruction that
must get done before the winter comes but more so importantly people have lost
everything and I mean everything.
The rural cities, counties and state can get public
places back up on its feet over time, however The People need well
reconstructed homes to live in today, not in August of 2012 and not going into
the winter or: what will our lovely Minnesotan people do with a Pilgrim winter?
Please. No begging today. I plea. Our
beautiful rural Minnesota’s People. They’re real. They’re hard-working and they
care what happens to their neighbors, communities, animals, environments and
farms.
Are our citizens to expect to comfortably
take a seat at the table high at tea time with mold for their companions? It
won’t do. It wouldn’t be good enough. It will not do.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. Nothing. I could go on but I won’t. The
devastation that has occurred.
P.S.S. A few communities lost their schools
completely underwater.
If it takes $10-20 million dollars to build a
state-of-the-art modern school in America then couldn’t northern Minnesota set
aside that budget to build at least one flood-damaged school? Please. It’s so
overdue. (Corrections: I was thinking too fast earlier.)
At $10-$20 million, The People would be lucky
to get free condoms or suckers at that, schools seem to be out of the question
as they most often are here in the United States of America.
*) [:
(No, it’s not pronounced:
“T-he
P-eople” that’s almost impossible for tongue mechanics, rather it sounds more
evenly-so such as “THE PEOPLE” in one
even swoop. No, not “T-H-E P-E-O-P-L-E”, because that, too, is almost
impossible to enunciate as far as human acoustic resonance in vibration is
concerned. Think operatic. (Yes? Yes. You understood that. THE PEOPLE.
Wonderful. (That’s writing for you.) :]
July 11, 2012
“No human race is superior;
no religious faith is inferior. All collective judgments are wrong. Only
racists make them.” - Elie Wiesel
“Once you bring life into the
world, you must protect it. We must protect it by changing the world.” - Elie Wiesel
“Not to transmit an
experience is to betray it.” -
Elie Wiesel
“Mankind must remember that peace
is not God's gift to his creatures; peace is our gift to each other.”
- Elie Wiesel
“I marvel at the resilience
of the Jewish people. Their best characteristic is their desire to remember. No
other people has such an obsession with memory.” - Elie Wiesel
“The opposite of love is not
hate, it's indifference.” -
Elie Wiesel
--- --- ---
Correction: Back to one.
Back to the beginning. Step back. Take a deep breath. Relax.
Please, don’t
take these blog entries too literal. Easy now! Or you’ll end up giving
yourselves a hernia. Lift from your legs not with you backs if you’re going to
pick up this blog to read.
Now, with that
said, since you don’t know me from a bale of hay, then you wouldn’t know that
I’m quick to laughter. I love laughing. Who doesn’t? Right? Right. Believe it
or not the more lethargic and direct I am on these blog entries than the
happier and the more poised I’ve become as a human while in person. Lovely.
Life is good. Laugh along with us because what else is there to do?
As a free woman
it’s my prerogative to change my mind at any time, to think, breathe, write and
be as I see best. It’s my life and I shall make decisions to best reason and
logic out the cruelty of humans since the beginning of time. Humans are, well,
mean and much of the time a disgrace but that’s nothing new nor shocking.
---
--- ---
Happy Wednesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
---
--- ---
I sleep like a baby.
No, really. I do.
It’s my gift from the Gods and I’m ever so
grateful to them for rewarding me with sound and loving sleep.
Do you know why I sleep like a baby?
I sleep like a baby because I made decisions
early on in my life that were indeed right even if they went against social
artistic Nazis in the running for popularity.
I made the bold and strong decisions to stand
up for the weak, the tormented, the bullied and the oppressed. (No, this
doesn’t mean that I became friends with them, it only means that if and when I
came across economical, social and human injustices then I stood up for and by
what I thought to be the right thing to
do not the selfish, righteous and oppressive.)
Oh, don’t think this hasn’t come with a high
price.
I’ve had my tires slashed, I’ve had things
thrown at me in public, I’ve been cursed at and I’ve come close to taking blows
from little social artistic Duluth fascists, these artist-types who have the
queerest tendencies of either swindling others out of money or simply stealing
all in the name of love. Gross.
Anyone, who’s ever had conflict with me
directly, will tell you that I’ve been respectful (with the exception of two
disrespectful-manipulative and lying men) but
not without the tormentor knowing perfectly well how I felt about their
idiotic-deadly behavior in oppressive demeanor against others.
I have the gift of eloquence and speech even
though I have the curse of often losing my voice while standing on my feet (I’m
too Indian for Caucasian communication: No, I don’t think that Caucasian
communication is Nazi communication because I’ve held interaction with both),
which, has caused me to go silent for long periods of times not raging. Please.
You have no idea what a lovely woman I truly am and how disgusted I can get
with overt oppression.
I’ve been quite stern, serious yet respectful
against bullies and for those reasons alone I’ve been bestowed with the
greatest gift of sound and deep sleep. See,
the Gods know all and reward accordingly.
---
--- ---
I have very little to no respect for Duluth,
Minnesota because it creates losers, posers, tormentors, bullies and abusers. I
get turned off by those qualities in others. It’s like a lovely lady going out
on a first date with a rapist, exactly
like. Gross.
Duluth will have to show me a better side of
its humanity.
Duluth failed me.
I didn’t fail Duluth.
It’s not up to Duluth to decide if I’ll ever fall in
love with him ever again.
I have a bad taste in my mouth from Duluth.
I’ve decided that it’s unhealthy to eat anything rotten. Something smells
rotten in Duluth! Ha!
It’s up to me to decide how I feel about Duluth
knowing perfectly well that it’s an emotional rapist.
It’s not up to Duluth to decide how it feels
about me.
I’m not the one who’s slashed car tires because
I didn’t get my way, thrown things in people’s hair because I’m envious and
ready to throw the first blow. No, Sir! I’m too well mannered for that.
Duluth’s been violent against me as one of
its daughters for standing up against the oppressions of the weak.
I won’t apologize for any of it!
I’d do my life in the same fashion all over
again because on this morning at 6:25 A.M. I have no regrets about my life. My
life turned out beautifully as it was meant to because I stood up for something
other than my ego.
I stood up for the rights and the equal pay
of others even if it meant putting myself in the line of fire and going without
pay and food. That’s how astonishing I am as a human and I can write these
words because I lived to tell the tale.
I’ve proven to be morally kind even when others were terrified of my thoughts,
beliefs and moral decisions to remove oppressive idiots from social scenes.
I refuse to apologize for having an
intelligent and active brain and knowing better than to go along with the abuse
of Duluth’s social oppressive artistic tormentors and their delusional
demeanors. Silly, Rabbits!
Please. Who
do you think I am? An idiot? I’ve proven not to be so by-and-by.
I’m the woman in this relationship solely
between Duluth and I.
I’m the female with the crown of curls.
After one has been spiritually raped well,
then there’s no going back. Why would
you?
My relationship to Duluth is one of a
battered woman.
Being married (paying taxes) to Duluth for
three years in my mid-twenties was like taking a punch to the face weekly and
thus is how I think of the misbehavior and disrespectfulness of those people I
came across, as abusive husbands and wives. Yikes.
Run!
If one is an intelligent person of color in
Duluth then Duluth is really out to lynch one for no other reason than their
herd mentality. Baaa. Baaa. Baaa. Ha! The greatest disappointment in life is
coming across educated idiots who are out to destroy the world one community at
a time.
Little unrefined and rude Duluth artists
posing as something rich are the worst type of people to meet, collaborate and
to get to know. It’s best not to meet them at all. They’re the type who’d put a
gun to your head and rape you from behind because they like the sheer violence
and thrill of oppression not the construction of something beautiful.
I hate Duluth this morning. Yep. (I wrote it with ink.) I may love it by
afternoon if something miraculous occurs to change my perspective about it
however I highly doubt that because for the most part Duluth hates itself and
let it cause its own demise.
Yes, indeed I’m a happy adult who sleeps well
because I haven’t gone out of my way to be neither cruel nor a tormentor to
others. I sleep so well, you’d think I was being rewarded like a little angel (I’m being facetious) by the Gods.
Ha!
I get the last laugh.
I didn’t torment, steal, lie or cheat.
I was tormented, stolen from, lied to and
cheated by Duluth and for that reason alone it can go and lick its own mierda. Why does Duluth, Minnesota produce so many
social tormenting artistic Nazis? Oh, the land of 10,000 closeted social
Nazis.
I could write a ballad and lick Duluth with
it.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
*) No, when I write that I beg, I’m not a
little beggar. It’s a poetic nuance. I may plea but I most definitely don’t
beg. I haven’t begged in my life even when I’ve been hungry and now that my
belly is full I definitely will not be begging when I have no reason to do so.
P.S. Why is it that Duluth news hardly ever
mentions Minneapolis, but Minneapolis news mentions what a decrypted and fallen
Duluth is up to?
Who cares what Duluth is up to except Duluth
because it breeds narcissism and greed.
No news is good news, unless something has
truly gone amiss.
Not too many people in the Metro Area facing
real problems care what Duluth’s artistic and social scene is up to because if
you ever come across many of their unrefined and crude artists then you’ll
discover a little secret about them which is... Who do you think I am? I don’t give up my enemies that easily.
Nevertheless, if I were to tell you about the many of Duluth’s Achilles’ heels
then we could wipe it clean completely off the map in less than a decade
(facetiously). No, I’m not here to create
war with Duluth because I’m a pacifist in person and my peace doesn’t keep me
from stating the ugly obvious aspects to humanity.
Duluth doesn’t care about anything but its
enormous ego and thus it’s tough to care about Duluth. You have no idea how
much I could become indifferent to Duluth. It’s such a little emotional rapist
city.
*) “Look,” He said to me. “All you have to do
is say the word and if you want the city taken down then we’ll do just that.” I
looked over at his serious and powerful demeanor around his lips and his
impeccably beautifully tailored suit. “No, no thank you. I don’t feel that
indifferently about Duluth but if I change my mind you’ll be the first to
know.” I winked at him to let him know that I was friendly not destructive. He
intensely stared back at me so I got up to leave without so much as another
word.
*) Obama care! Obama care! Obama care!
July 10, 2012
“Because I remember, I
despair. Because I remember, I have the duty to reject despair.” - Elie Wiesel
“I swore never to
be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation.
We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim.
Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” - Elie Wiesel
“Because of indifference, one
dies before one actually dies.” - Elie Wiesel
“I decided to devote my life
to telling the story because I felt that having survived I owe something to the
dead and anyone who does not remember betrays them again.” - Elie Wiesel
“I have not lost faith in God.
I have moments of anger and protest. Sometimes I've been closer to him for that
reason.” - Elie Wiesel
Happy Tuesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
Do you know how to Rumba?
If you don’t know the steps to the Rumba then
please step down from the dance floor or you’ll surely have all the potential
in the world of getting hurt. If you don’t know the Rumba then…nothing.
---
--- ---
What not to write?
There’re so many things that I’d hate to
express through words.
Yes, I wrote hate.
Now, I don’t mean physical violence or harm,
per say but good whipping laughter in the face of a poser-loser would do when
one comes across another which one doesn’t expect to be presented with once
more and they know perfectly well that the very little that they get is what
they deserve for their past prejudiced-cruelties, injuries, injustices and
disrespect while they judged others in the face of hunger, physical internal
illness and pain.
There’s nothing like coming across a former
social abuser, a psychological tormentor and a Nazi in general, especially one
who’s caused a great deal of harm to themselves, other-individuals and
communities at large as well as knowing perfectly well that their community is
one of mediocrity, shallow-emptiness, sorrow and disconnect. Yikes. When one knows the history of a
harmful loser, then one knows not to
offer anything to such a devil, not even a glance because it might cause one to
burst out laughing in uncontrollable laughter.
I’d rather be on the receiving end of abuse
than to administer abuse.
I’m strong and intelligent enough to heal
from abusers and their whipping rods. What’s
the English word for them? In Spanish we consider such a human, “Mierda”.
This type of person is worse than any liar, coward and sinister type. This type
of tormentor is the type that we consider something special: Something at the
bottom of one’s shoes.
People are abusers and mean because they have
a type of hurt that has nothing to do with physical pain rather with soul pain.
(I have to control my facial expressions and
stop laughter before it forms in mocking delight otherwise; I’d get a true and
great kick out of that which is stupid, hidden and malicious in its altruistic
form of corrupt and hateful abusers.)
When one comes across an abuser and all that
the other has left is a shred of dignity in which to present themselves, thus
one must be cordial even though one knows perfectly well that the other is a
white-devil, two-faced, mean-spirited, angry and a soul vampire. Ha! (How about
those adjectives?)
Once one knows the reputation of another and
their secrets (because their supposed friends
have given them-away to the world for free); then there’s nothing to do but to
be quite respectful and possibly kind to a village idiot, a cruel and hurt
human and a spiteful one at that. HA! HA! HA!
As I mature into a full female adult I find
that I do indeed have to keep myself from laughing out loud most of the time
especially when the absurd presents itself. Can you possibly understand what it’s
like to hold-in one’s laughter when one has knowledge-and-experience that the
other is unkind, uncouth, lying, cheating, depressing and the greatest crime of
all; inconsiderate to breath-given-life. A
murderer of the soul is something to laugh at despite its nose. Ha!
Oh, those little Minnesota Nazi-artistic
tormentors are hilarious to come across. I don’t mind it. I’m not threatened
because my life turned out to be spectacular in more ways than I ever thought
it would. I love the challenge in keeping my composure intact because I know
better and even if I don’t know better, well, I do.
I was brought up by a New England Lady who
would’ve made anyone wonder if she was mocking or being deadly sweetly kind.
Yes, to know impeccable manners is to know mockery at the extreme.
I stay away from being cruel to others
because well, I have all the tools, knowledge and ability in skill to belittle
people to the point of making an English court hide their smiles of ridicule
behind fans.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. HA! HA! HA!
P.S.S. Be careful as to whom you collaborate
with and meet dear Minneapolis, Uptown, Minnesota. Yikes. You’ll know the
difference between a great human and a tormentor. No matter how much a
tormentor may disguise themselves; the humans with-a-heart-and-a-soul can and
will always find-out those who deserve nothing due to their dehumanizing and
tormenting demeanors.
July 9, 2012
“You can get through life
with bad manners, but it's easier with good manners.” - Lillian Gish
“You can't be truly rude
until you understand good manners.” - Rita Mae Brown
“A man's manners are a mirror
in which he shows his portrait.” -
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
“Conventional manners are a
kind of literacy test for the alien who comes among us.” - Katherine Fullerton
Gerould
“Evil communication corrupts
good manners. I hope to live to hear that good communication corrects bad
manners.” - Benjamin Banneker
“Fine manners need the
support of fine manners in others.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance? (How about something slow to teach one the
proper steps in moving about and throughout space within society (the public
sphere) while in perfect harmony, unison and calm rhythm.) Americans take great
pride and joy in music: well, then, let’s show the world what an amazing
company of breathers we truly are!
---
--- ---
Thoughts:
If one is angry, then one must get one’s
anger under control by the time one leaves one’s front door otherwise one’s no
good to society. (One owes this act of harmony, breathing in unison and calm
attitude to our ancestors and other global citizens as well.)
Zen. Breathe. Zen. Breathe. Zen. Breathe.
Zen. Breathe. Zen…
Chill out everybody! Chill out! Chill out!
Chill out! Tranquillo.
Even if one may think that breathing and
meditation are dumb, try to breathe anyway for one’s sake and the sakes of
those around one.
Please, breathe before one speaks.
Please, breathe before one acts.
Please, breathe before one is.
Human beings aren’t human doings.
Humans are breathing individuals whom
together in unison breathe-in-and-out into the atmosphere a choir-song of
breathing-life in togetherness. Together everybody! (You understood that.)
Music has been the corner stone of America
since the Indians first saw White Man or Woman. (Don’t give me that
look! I know for a fact that our Native American brothers and sisters sat down
and broke bread with our Pilgrims entering their second winter in America at
Plymouth. No, the Pilgrims didn’t hit Plymouth Rock, rather they hit the cape.)
Breathe, damn it! Live! Awake, you! Be
grateful to be witnessing our solar system as it is today. We’re at the
beginning of something magnificent, the beginning of the 6th Earth.
Wow! Wow! Wow! Spectacular!
---
--- ---
More Thoughts:
Are we Great and Civilized Americans or aren’t we Great and Civilized
Americans?
Goodness, one would think that Americans only know how to use their amphibian
brains. Frontal lobe! Frontal lobe! Frontal lobe! Yeah! Go! Americans! (A
little cheer for you!)
[: (Please don’t bump into Women or Men while
walking down the streets of America:
~ If
you don’t know, then you might as well know that prostate and breast
cancer: are on the rise worldwide.
When any rude man or woman bumps into
other men or women who are going through cancer treatment then they get hurt
because their entire bodies are sensitive from the treatments. For a cancer
patient to get touched it’s like getting caught on fire.
Be kind, be civil, be respectful, be
anything other than ready to crack open an egg of hostility while in person and
in public.
Most
cancer patients when touched hurt incredibly and it’s not nice to bump into
people on public streets, anyway.
Our New York City African American brothers
are a perfect example of gentlemen who can and do walk down the streets of New
York City without harming others: these
brothers have class and style no matter where they grew up in the state of
New York and other parts of the world.) :]
Peace. (If one doesn’t know or understand the
meaning of the word “peace” then one must look it up.)
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. I’m going to get rather personal with
you not because I want to but because this is a blog and not a novel. Although,
the less an author says about themselves in a novel then most often than not
the juicier the content and the speculation about what the author has stated
about themselves or not. Juicy.
Okay, we chose to stay, live, bought a house
and pay taxes and to contribute in the form of a public service in making a
feature film a year (or so) to donate to our community, which happens to be
Hennepin County.
We love this area and find that Hennepin
County, the Twin-Cities and the Metro Area have much to offer. I’d like to do
my Ph.D. research here in Hennepin County and do something spectacular with
that degree someday for Hennepin County. (No, I don’t want to be a politician,
an economist nor a lawyer.) No exceptions Hennepin County all the way! That’s
how highly we think of Hennepin County, however.
The violence, the drowned citizens and the
hit-and-runs this summer 2012 have indeed left a bad taste in one’s mouth.
Aren’t the citizens of Hennepin County tired of the racial violence and
animosity? I mean, truly. One must get tired of
mediocrity in the best sense of the word.
I don’t know what to tell you about
aggressiveness, anger and animosity except to keep your shirts on. What. Do our
Hennepin County citizens have Hormigas rojas en sus pantalones. Do our citizens
have red ants in their pants? Cool it!
Why are our citizens so angry and ready to strike or take advantage of
other citizens while in person?
I went out and about throughout the city this
morning and in about a 15 minute span five citizens all in their mid-forties
and fifties stepped out in front of our car. A woman in her car cut us off and
another Somali sister drove down on the wrong side of the road. Yikes.
Have the reptilian brained humans lost their composures?
The rule of thumb is this: If you wouldn’t say it or do it in front of
your Grandmothers and Grandfathers or Religious Leaders then don’t say or do
anything outside of those perimeters when out and about in public while in
person. No public masturbating, no public urinating, no public touching
strangers, no public swearing at strangers, no harming others and the
environment, no getting out of control and definitely no murdering people.
Think of grace, manners and a great
disposition as something of an egg.
Did you ever have to do that class-experiment
in which you had to care, maintain and guard an egg for 24 hours as though it
were a newborn? Yep. We did. Gosh, back in 7th grade, I think.
Well, think of your manners in terms of that
egg and if you slip up then you crack the egg.
You can always start again and do your best.
That’s what waking up every morning and living an excellent adult lifestyle is
all about, for you to take responsibility and to keep that egg of manners from
cracking otherwise, I don’t know. Mediocrity stinks like a rotted egg.
Thus, wake up to yourselves and realize that
the world is watching and waiting for you to give your best performance.
Every time you leave the house, you’re on!
Lights, camera, action!
The goal to your First Act is to develop into
mature, well mannered and well civilized humans otherwise, you may not consider
the leading roles. Give it a go for a day.
Go ahead and don’t crack the egg to your
humanity, otherwise it’s messy and it’ll leave you feeling bad anyway every
time you’re a jerk because you’re too lazy to put into practice those
civilities which your Elders have indeed bestowed upon you. It’s a matter of
survival and life not a matter of choice whether you ought to be civilized or
not. If the human race would like to survive and live upon this already Earth
over-populated planet then we must learn our manners once again and hold
steadfast to them as we would a newborn. You wouldn’t drop a newborn would you?
No, absolutely not. Not if you can help it.
Begin with carrying the egg of excellence in
manners around like your manners were a newborn, otherwise go home and compose
yourselves. Nobody likes, ill-willed, spiritually ugly, crazy-mean and violent
civilians amongst the streets dropping newborns.
One of the most civilized places I’ve ever
walked through was Harlem and Queens. Yep. Absolutely. I walked down the street
with my Caucasian Finn Father and no one hooted at us, harassed us, bullied us,
looked twice nor harmed us. Thank you.
Yes, racism is indeed a fact in the world
today because it’s ingrained into the reptilian brain. But bigotry has
everything to do with a matter of intelligence.
The point is this: are you going to be angry about life or are
you going to conduct yourselves like adults while in public?
In other words are you going to rise above
adversity or are you just going to waste away?
No, public places aren’t theatrical spaces.
If one wants to act, sing and dance, then take a class or take to the stage. Public
places are spaces in which you shall conduct yourselves as something to be
proud of, astounding and humanly beautiful: otherwise, you lose and society
gains nothing from rudeness, thoughtlessness and mindlessness while in public.
July 7, 2012
“Once you attempt legislation
upon religious grounds, you open the way for every kind of intolerance and
religious persecution.” - William Yeats Butler
“Bigotry and intolerance,
silenced by argument, endeavors to silence by persecution, in old days by fire
and sword, in modern days by the tongue.” - Charles Simmons
“I think if you come from a
history of persecution you have to develop a sense of humour.” - Sacha Baron Cohen
“In 1933, the Nazis came to power
and the more systematic persecution of the Jews followed quickly. Laws were
enacted which excluded Jewish children from higher education in public schools.” - Jack Steinberger
Happy Saturday!
Aloha.
Quickly Now! Lives are literally at stake
here in Minneapolis, Minnesota this morning due to our youths’ idiotic (deadly)
social tendencies.
Minnesota, are we Nazis or are we Nazis while
in public?
---
--- ---
Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.
[: (I’ll
try not to get lynched which might be quite easier done than said in Minnesota:
than anywhere else in the United States of America. Here, in Minnesota people
will tell you that they’re not racist, while behind one’s back they’re throwing
ropes over lamp posts. In other states one can simply expect a lynching without
the lies, niceties and festivities while in Minnesota it’s whispered in the
wind. Nothing much changes in a land where blood has been shed all in the name of love.) :]
It’s disappointing to see that so many young
Caucasian / Catholic Minnesotan people didn’t boycott the Basilica Block Party
2012. Why?
If you don’t know then I have only one word
for you: Persecution. (Sigh.)
Nothing much changes in America over a period
of 400 years.
For those of you who may not necessarily know the history of America, our
beautiful Pilgrims were persecuted by the Church of England no differently and
in the same propaganda manners in which today’s Catholic Church does persecute
our Minnesota’s same sex marriage citizens. Psychologically, socially and
politically the Catholic Church has proven to be a bully and a harasser of
human rights over the same sex marriage amendment which we’ll all be voting
come this November 2012 election. My, my, my… The Catholic Church just won’t
learn to keep its nose clean and out of politics.
The Minneapolis-St. Paul
archdiocese sent out 400,000 DVDs on the subject of anti same sex marriage propaganda and
slogans in the past two years. What a dying dinosaur! How idiotic. How deadly
in this modern era.
What Church, State, Institution and Organization is willing to
openly persecute any Nation’s civilians, citizens and tax payers with such
lousy rhetoric all in the name of a mean and hateful Catholic God, no
differently than that history of the enslaved Indigenous of the Mesoamerica’s
history, really.
Kill!
Kill! Kill seems to be the message of the Catholic Church and then attend a
concert with a fake smile all in the name of love.
Gross.
Imagine being one of the little Nazi concert goers attending
today? Gross.
(Forgive
them for they know not what they do even when they know perfectly well not to
be ignorant of the rights of The People.)
(No,
wonder God flooded Minnesota and turned so many Minnesotans into Satan
worshipers.)
Now,
if the Catholic Church needs to embark upon a crusade then Satan worshipping
and satanic sacrifices would be a lovely place to begin here in the United
States of America. (Get with it!) (Our little cats are being skinned alive and
sliced in perfect halves.) Gross. How ghastly.
Worse, imagine the artists who took the money all in the name of
persecution? Gross.
(No
wonder poetry rules in the hearts of the Mesoamericans rather than music. It’s
poetry that has and will outlive music if music doesn’t get their priorities
straightened. It’s not music that’s quoted by The People’s of the earth, its
poetry because poetry will continue to tell the truth even if it means getting
lynched or beheaded at the guillotine or even if concert promoters sell it to
the musicians that it’s alright to be Duluth-exclusive and
heterosexually-exclusive rather than inclusive.)
I thought music brought people together not destroyed the
sanctity of inclusiveness?
People must be dumb, no? Yes. Intelligence teaches us that
people just won’t learn the right moral lessons again and again even when faced
with making the right decisions.
Attending the Basilica Block Party 2012 is as cool as attending
a lynching. Oh, wait the Minnesotans tend to like that sort of thing, secretly
of course.
Personally, I see this act of 400,000 thousand DVDs sent out to
Catholic households as an act of deadly harassment which could end up the
Catholic Church in court and in jail. Seriously. Persecution is
unconstitutional by today’s standard and if not through practice than at least on paper some place.
I can only imagine that by today’s
educational standards that Minnesota’s youth aren’t very educated. (It’s
obvious. It’s not even debatable.)
Those decisions which we've seen the
Minnesotan’s make with their pocket books is not only disrespectful, uncouth,
hateful and righteously malevolent but also simply ignorant.
What are the Universities here in Minnesota
teaching our youth? Nothing much by the look of it. (That “Leave No Child
Behind” really made Minnesota ignorant, didn’t it?) Boy, oh boy! It’s easier to
hate than to understand.
Well, boys and girls enjoy today’s moral and
social lynching at the Basilica.
You’ve got to laugh in the face of ignorance
even when The People’s tongues stick out like dead lambs on a sacrificial
alter.
No, thank you. No, lamb for me tonite.
Happy Sabbath.
Aloha.
Gabriela
P.S. Ha! We were invited to Ringo Starr’s
Birthday party in 2008 but we had to head out and catch a flight in Boston.
Happy Birthday Ringo Starr. Recently (within the past four years), I learned
that Mr. Starr was the drummer to the Beatles. Sorry I was learning English
while everybody else was rocking out.
July 6, 2012
“A boy doesn't have to go to
war to be a hero; he can say he doesn't like pie when he sees there isn't
enough to go around.” - E. W. Howe
“A hero is no braver than an
ordinary man, but he is brave five minutes longer.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson
“A hero is somebody who is
selfless, who is generous in spirit, who just tries to give back as much as
possible and help people. A hero to me is someone who saves people and who
really deeply cares.” -
Debi Mazar
“A hero is someone who has
given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.” - Joseph Campbell
“You cannot be a hero without
being a coward.” - George Bernard Shaw
Happy Friday!
Aloha.
We took the day off to watch films…wait,
that’s our job, that’s what we get paid to do. Sweet. Done. Sold. (Thank the Gods
I didn’t become a film critic as I had initially set out to do so. Whew!)
[On paper I can be as blunt and as sharp as the tip of a bull’s horn
through the heart, but in person I’m docile, curiously strong and well, too
lazy to start any arguments because I hate conflict. I like to keep the peace
at all costs unless I’m betrayed and then I’m out for spiritual blood: I
transform into a true bull, however. This is not to say that I don’t like a
good juicy intellectual debate with rules and boundaries from time to time;
give me a subject any subject.]
If you haven’t seen “The Amazing Spider-Man”
and “Brave” then well, if you’re looking to place your hard earned money down
on a counter these two films are worth every penny. I was floored, moved and
changed by these two cinematic adventures. Thank you.
We’re wishing you a safe, relaxed, kind and
wonderful weekend amongst those who respect you and themselves. Peace. Ah,
there’s nothing more attractive than responsible, respectful and direct people
who know how to belly laugh and have a fantastic time without harming others.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. Wildfires, power outages and floods: Our
prayers are with the living. This heat has been unbearable. If you have Elders
in your communities please have it in you to be human and check on them no
matter how un-cool you may think Elders may be. In America we fear aging while
in other cultures we perceive aging as something closely linked to reverence,
wisdom and loveliness. Ah, life!
*) The Basilica Block Party. I boycott
anything that is hypocritical. Need I say
more? Nope.
Take it or leave it. It must be so bizarre to
the artists to play a venue in which their employers don’t believe in the
rights and the sanctities of same sex marriage, abortion and anything that rock
n’ roll represents.
No, don’t give me that look; I know the
behind the scenes people and none of them can ever be mistaken for priests. As
a matter of fact, one wore a “Fornication Tour” T-Shirt to our wedding
reception. If the Basilica is so hard up
for renovation funds then why don’t they hit up the Pope?
*) Lou Paulson of Barnum, Minnesota has shown
the world not only what an amazing man he truly is but also what a caring soul
along with his wife Robin.
We’ve heard many accounts of Mr. Paulson’s
heroism while the floods of 2012 overtook the Northland: this humble and
significant man, as he watched his business go under water, along with his
livelihood and life disappear he left to go across the street to help rescue
the Elders at the senior citizen housing on a front end loader to safety. Wow!
I’m telling you, my eyes still swell with hot
half formed water droplets as I listened to people speak so highly of this
man’s great heroism, sincerity and approach.
Lou’s Café of Barnum, Minnesota the building
is now condemned. We shall not forget the greatness of those in our communities
who do in fact create change instead of facades. Thank you.
July 5, 2012
“It is very unnerving to be proven
wrong, particularly when you are really right and the person who is really
wrong is proving you wrong and proving himself, wrongly, right.” - Lemony Snicket
“Wrong
does not cease to be wrong because the majority share in it.” - Leo Tolstoy
“It's not given to people to
judge what's right or wrong. People have eternally been mistaken and will be
mistaken, and in nothing more than in what they consider right and wrong.” - Leo Tolstoy
“Doing the right thing for
someone else occasionally means doing something that feels wrong to you.” - Jodi Picoult
Happy Thursday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance?
(I know, I know, this heat’s unbearable.) We
haven’t walked in five days. I can’t stand this heat… it’s one of those things
about Global Warming which is indeed a fact
in the world today. It’s scientifically proven and that’s what makes it a
fact because Global Warming went beyond the hypothetical, theoretical and much
discussed topic into actual research studies and proven factually by the means and
through the changes in atmospheric conduits. (Look it up.)
---
--- ---
Finn Elder: “I never know what you’re going
to talk about.” Ha! Ha! Ha!
---
--- ---
Where to begin writing about the ancient Mayan Calendars? (No,
I’m not here to be corrected by anyone except by my Mayan Elders and that’s
that.)
There’ll be neither debate nor ruling today.
You believe what you will about something as close and as dear to our
hearts as the study of astronomy, even though I’m not an astronomer, I’m an
Indigenous citizen of the “Universe(s)” (plural, as in metaphorically and
poetically speaking) who takes quite a bit of joy in bringing in the next
significant 6th Earth with celebrations as we enter 5, 126 years in cycle. It’s
indeed remarkable to be here and to witness such solar events. Increible.
Incredible! Ha!
Hip! Hip! Hooray to all organisms partaking
in this huge milestone!
This is a time to turn a
leaf and make a fresh start as intelligent thinking, compassionate, kind,
thoughtful and mindful adults or we’ll surely perish because as many as 100-200
species do become extinct (due to loss of rainforest) each and every day. (No, not a year, per day.)
Yes, species have become extinct while I’ve sat here to write this. (We’ve got
to get a handle on this as humans and citizens of this planet Earth or we, too,
have the possibility of going extinct.)
Let’s get some facts straight about the ancient Mayan calendars:
No, the ancient Maya didn’t invent the
calendars rather our ancestors the Olmec gave us such a gift in wisdom.
The ancient Mayan calendars are three
calendars like any others in keeping record with time, no differently than
keeping count while harmonizing, keeping in perfect tempo with pitch and tone,
form, melody and rhythm to the celestial movements throughout the night sky.
(You understood that.) The night sky is
no different than well composed music, lyrical harmony and quality in poetic
voice. Life is indeed an instrument and to create a perfect pitch in tone along
to the rhythms of life is to create poetic justice. (A little poetry for
you.)
The ancient Mayan calendars are indeed three part components to an
engine.
When aligned this engine, per say, runs on
all three cylinders. (In no particular order; the Long Count, the Short Count
and the Theological and Structural Count of the past 5 Earth’s in cycles is
evident as well as our future galactic alignments are foreseen because our past
records indicate what’s yet to come. The past dictates our future in order to
get ourselves aligned with the present and to become alive, aware and fully
balanced and harmonized with ourselves, loved ones and our entire galactic
solar system. This is the gift of time in becoming fully aware and connected to
our galactic birth canal, the milky way. No, this is not a rebirth. This is a
birth of the 6th Earth or cycle.
The three ancient Mayan calendars create a
mono-calendar and when all three
calendars align specifically it indicates the 2012 Mayan New Year’s
celebrations scheduled to begin sundown on the eve of December 21st,
2012 to Sundown December 23, 2012.
We’ll party
like it was 1999 because we’ll witness the elliptic galactic nexus of the
milky way looking right into the center of the galaxy where a dark hole will be
located. Wow!
[: Side note: To the German man whose
research and analysis is incorrect about the ancient Mayan calendars being off
by three years and that our New Year’s celebrations were scheduled to begin /
end in the year 2009 under the pretense of being considered yet another “Y2K”;
Well, that’s just wrong misinformation and not factually correct because we
haven’t witnessed the galactic alignment thus far which we’re meant to witness
come this 2012.
We’ll be
looking into the birth canal of life as the sun is reborn and the milky way our
Great Mother will be touched by a galactic force, for crying out loud. Duh!
(Get hip to it.) :]
More later.
Arrivederci.
Gabriela
P.S. No, I don’t mean to use insulting
language. I simply, use bold and powerful language to get you to see imagery.
No, I don’t get insulted by what the Minnesotans say or don’t say, do or don’t
do. I’m not that fragile and simply we end up laughing on the couch at the end
of each day. Life is beautiful.
Source Wikipedia:
The Gregorian calendar, also called the Western calendar and the Christian calendar, is the internationally accepted civil calendar. It was introduced by Pope Gregory XIII, after whom the calendar was named, by a decree signed on 24 February 1582; the decree, a papal bull, is known by its opening words, Inter gravissimas. The reformed calendar was adopted later that year by a handful of countries, with other countries adopting it over the following centuries.
The motivation for the Gregorian reform was that the Julian calendar assumes that the time between vernal equinoxes is 365.25 days, when in fact it is presently almost exactly 11 minutes shorter. This error was plainly evident astronomically. The discrepancy accumulates at the rate of about three days every four centuries, resulting in the equinox being on March 11 (a cumulative error of about 10 days since Roman times), and moving steadily earlier in the Julian calendar, at the time of the Gregorian reform. Because the spring equinox was tied to the celebration of Easter, the Roman Catholic Church considered this steady movement in the date of the equinox undesirable.
The Gregorian calendar reform contained two parts: a reform of the Julian calendar as used prior to Pope Gregory's time and a reform of the lunar cycle used by the Church, with the Julian calendar, to calculate the date of Easter. The reform was a modification of a proposal made by the Calabrian doctor Aloysius Lilius (or Lilio). Lilius' proposal included reducing the number of leap years in four centuries from 100 to 97, by making 3 out of 4 centurial years common instead of leap years: this part of the proposal had been suggested before by, among others, Pietro Pitati. Lilio also produced an original and practical scheme for adjusting the epacts of the moon when calculating the annual date of Easter, solving a long-standing obstacle to calendar reform.
July 4, 2012
Independence
Day,
commonly known as the Fourth of July, is a federal holiday in the United
States commemorating the adoption of the Declaration of Independence on July 4,
1776, declaring independence from the Kingdom of Great Britain. Independence
Day is commonly associated with fireworks, parades, barbecues, carnivals,
fairs, picnics, concerts, baseball games, family reunions, and political
speeches and ceremonies, in addition to various other public and private events
celebrating the history, government, and traditions of the United States.
Independence Day is the national day of the United States.
Happy Wednesday!
Happy Fourth of July!
Aloha.
July 3, 2012
“Communication is a continual
balancing act, juggling the conflicting needs for intimacy and independence. To
survive in the world, we have to act in concert with others, but to survive as
ourselves, rather than simply as cogs in a wheel, we have to act alone.” - Deborah Tannen
“There is no dignity quite so
impressive, and no one independence quite so important, as living within your
means.” -
Calvin Coolidge
“Those who won our
independence... valued liberty as an end and as a means. They believed liberty
to be the secret of happiness and courage to be the secret of liberty.” - Louis D. Brandeis
Happy Tuesday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance? (Or should we dip our toes
into a non-polluted Minnesota lake?) Yes!
---
--- ---
Oh, this unbearable heat!
I’m sorry but I’m a mountainous jungle kid at
heart (where it’s actually very cold at night and quite cool by day unless you
stand under direct sunlight like a tourist then it’s hot as hell). No, I’m not
a hot cement jungle heat type of a person. This heat makes me… crawl into my
shell.
I haven’t gone swimming in years but this
heat may just force me to get into a swimsuit (which I hate to show any leg as
a woman culturally as much as I hate
running), but I may just do so.
I’d rather swim fully covered just as the
Israeli and Palestinian ladies peacefully swim together on the West Bank and
the Gaza Strip near the Dead Sea in Palestine, I mean Israel (wink, wink).
Right? Right. (I don’t mean any disrespect by it. A little joke since Palestine
is under direct Israeli Apartheid Law, if you didn’t know just like South
Africa was. Women are breaking all types of barriers under this Israeli
Apartheid Law because they believe in the freedoms of their children. Amazing!)
I have nothing against nudity.
I’m a modern woman and I’ve been to the nude
beaches of Minneapolis, Costa Rica and the French Riviera, however. As a modest
Indiana, I’d rather cover up my Le derrière and be modest about the entire endeavor of
swimming without having a dental floss up my... (G-Strings are so 1980’s and
not to mention that they cause yeast infections in women, so not sexy to say
the least.)
---
--- ---
Okay, enough of the stalling…
Like I said I’m several hundreds of
controversial subjects behind in my writing.
Today’s writing exercise: Independence Day!
To our legal and illegal immigrants here in
the United States helping out America’s economy and to celebrate this
tremendous 2012 Fourth of July, thank you.
Thank you for being here and working so hard
at the jobs that our American citizens detest with a passion. Seriously, thank
you for cleaning our hotel bathrooms, counters, taking out the trash and being
so humble and intelligent about keeping everything clean. For those of our
immigrant workers who work amongst our fields and can’t afford to buy any of
the foods which they harvest for the rest of the Americans, thank you. We owe
you our health.
For those immigrants whose families have been
deported and split up, thank you for continuing to believe in this America of
ours. How noble and just of you to continue to prosper, educate your young and
to believe in an America that has become all too hostile and Nazi about
immigration, thank you. (Forgive them for they know not what they do.)
I’m so sorry that America mistreats you and your
families.
What a country! In which our immigrants are
willing to continue to put in long hours without health care benefits or any
working benefits of any type and persist in
quietly turning the other cheek against harassment all for the ideal that someday their children will have a better
future, a free future from economic slavery.
Now, that’s real Americans for you even if
they don’t have their green cards. That’s the great will and testament of all
of our American immigrant ancestors who established the rights and the will of
The People in creating not only a better tomorrow but a more equal and just
tomorrow. I look to our immigrants with pride, respect and in awe to endure
each and every day even though they’re hated upon, discriminated and harassed
by the law. Pity. So top drawer to
say the least.
I’ve listened to my Finn Elders speak about
immigration and they have much wisdom to bestow upon the subject of low-paid
immigrant workers.
My Finn Elders are quite happy to have our
immigrant Mexican workers tending to jobs that “Americans don’t want because
they think they’re too good for such work.”
On this Independence Day, please keep in mind
that our Mexican and other immigrant workers are going through the same
economic difficulties and hardships as those of our ancestor immigrant workers
of 1776. It’s no different today than it was 400 years ago.
The hardships of the Americans and our
immigrants are quite real and so are the joys.
The hardships of the Americans are
significant, but imagine yourselves in a foreign country working for pennies on the dollar to do jobs that not even the
citizens of a Nation want or care to do. These are immigrant People who have
sustained America for over 400 years even if we so much as create a culture of
hatred against what we fear most, that which may enslave us into an economical
workforce in fields and in cleaning bathrooms, counters and floors as our
immigrants do. Wow! What amazing people.
I’ve done all of the legal jobs above and
below my current station in life and its backbreaking work. I take quite a bit
of pride as a human who has succeeded in America and who started out with
nothing. I’m here to tell you that what our immigrants do is life saving and
backbreaking. Be grateful and respectful not angry, racist and mean about our
immigrants, because the last time I checked no Americans wanted to clean shit
off the floor.
With that said I made my many points.
America was founded upon the shoulders of
Native American genocide and African American slavery. What a history and how
far and how short we’ve come!
I’m wishing you an amazing and safe holiday.
Hip! Hip! Hooray! To the Americans’ immigrant
ancestors.
Cheers.
With much respect, admiration for this America
and sincerity as a first generation immigrant American.
Gabriela
P.S. Minnesota, culturally speaking, this is the only place I know of-- that, men,
come up with excuses to join or not join-in socially, like, “I’m running late
so I can’t sit with you”. (Who asked you to take a seat, anyway?) Weird. It’s rather feminine
communication. It reminds me of old women just like third party communication reminds me of old gossiping women.
“Excuse me” will do just fine for an exodus because no one need to know your
personal business.
To be an adult is to do direct communication
or none at all.
Direct communication is difficult to do at
best of times and thus third party
communication can get real convoluted and I see it as gossip or so I was
taught as an Indian.
If communication is “heresay” then it’s
irrelevant to the point in the heart of the matter and sacredness in exchange
of information.
Information is personal and private, please
don’t run around like gossiping women, it leaves a bad taste in our mouths for
those of us who are more East Coast and direct. It’s like men without penises. Yikes.
*) In Minnesota, it seems that manipulative
and disruptive women-make-women out of
their men. I hate it! It makes me think of men as less powerful or less manly.
I’m sorry I’m too feminine and I don’t like it when
men are feminine with me or communicate in a feminine style (no, I’m not
talking about homosexual communication, I’m talking about heterosexual
communication). It “weirds” me out. It’s like talking to men with vaginas. When did our beautiful, relaxed and strong
men become so womanly in communication?
That type of communication in weakness
exchanged by men was created by women who are intimidated by men’s masculinity,
kindness and directness. Personally, I like men to be men; kind, strong and
just as well as direct at all costs without gossip. Nothing emasculates a man
like gossip or third party communication. This isn’t the farm anymore, this is
2012. Giddy up, gentlemen.
*) Look, adults are adults. If you see an
adult sitting chillaxing then most likely what they want to do is to sit
quietly and no, it doesn’t mean that they are hard up for socializing and
conversation. Please.
Especially, as young Minnesota men if you see
adult females by themselves, then don’t necessarily assume that women require
or need your presence to make them complete.
Alone isn’t the same as lonely. Believe me.
I meet lonely people all the time and they
like to talk up a storm. If you see a human sitting alone who requires very
little conversation then most likely they really don’t require nor need your
company. The Mid West is so queer about people sitting alone as though they
need others to take care of them. Grow
up. Adulthood here we come!
July 2, 2012
“I grew up in Minnesota.” - Seann Willian Scott
“I grew up in Minnesota and
everyone is so nice there. It is like Fargo. Everyone's so chipper and you make
friends just grocery shopping. We kill each other with kindness.” -
Seann Willian Scott
“And, actually it was
interesting because I had done a lot of traveling in the United States and
Canada and Mexico on my motorcycle; and I was really, it was the first time I
had really gotten out of the Minnesota area to speak of. “ - Duane C. Carey
“During my early years at
Minnesota I conducted an evening enzyme seminar.” - Paul D. Boyer
“A recent survey conducted by
the University of Minnesota concluded that meth was involved in as many as 81
percent of child protection cases in the state.” - Mark Kennedy
“I never felt like I belonged
in Minnesota when I was growing up there. That's why I was out the door as soon
as I turned 18.” - Jessica Lange
Happy Monday!
Aloha.
Shall we dance? (It’s even too hot for a slow Tango.)
---
--- ---
The European Union: (Let’s begin any place.
First with a count… One, two, three, four…)
Parliament: as in the other
Parliament across the pond in debate about joining the Eurozone in union or
commonly known as European Union of 27 countries.
What more is there to say? Need I
say more? Nope. “Done!” (I like to use that expression as in a non-witch
modern-linguistic short form answer like
“sweet!”) [: the word “Sweet” was considered so-valley-high in the early 1990’s.]
No, seriously, Parliament.
More specifically the Euro and why is it so
devalued of worth in market value?
Now, its common
knowledge amongst The People that the World Bank would have global citizens
and global Nations under one global currency. Fine. (Facetiously.) It can be
debatable, no? Yes.
Why ought all
global Nations to become part of a global economic system that isn’t working?
(If there are questions, then any subject can
be left up to debate.)
(I
suppose, we’ll have to wait and see what the academically inclined economic
studies bring about in the next 30 to 50 years, (I’m not an economist nor do I
pretend to be one) however.)
I’d like the following explained: what does
the banking system (World Bank) have to do with the politics and the well being
of The People? (Rhetorically.)
I mean, who’s in “control”?
(Supposedly
The People are in control of their States, Nations, Providences, Regions and
progressive development and thus The People send their public servants and
representatives to speak for them, their needs, wishes and wants.)
Are bankers the voice and the well being of
The People? (Pardon, I didn’t know any other way of putting it more eloquently
or gracefully. I just had to jump right in and address the question at the
heart of the subject matter.)
To govern efficiently, doesn’t one have to
consider the needs of The People through policy? (It’s difficult to believe
that Bankers would properly govern the needs of The People if the job of
bankers is indeed to balance budgets, instigate free market, circulate currency
and find value in the market of all currency for the sake of The People.
Are bankers governors?
Have The People voted bankers in as their
civil servants and representatives now? (I don’t want a butcher doing surgery
on me as much as I don’t care to see bankers run global politics.) Get it. Yes,
you do.
What type of control do bankers wish to
exercise if the governing bodies allotted for them to run the world?
Sincerely,
Gabriela
P.S. Hot! Hot! Hot as hell out there! Chill
out, everybody! Chill. Tranquillo. Drink some water, be patient and drive
slowly because we have a lot of children out here on the streets over summer
break especially in urban neighborhoods and communities.
*) Minnesota, we’re not German Nazis!
Remember, calling the police is a last alternative to
mediation in communication.
If The Minnesotans can work things out through
positive conflict direct resolution, then do so.
As we head into the Fourth of July, E-A-S-Y,
now!
I’m being told that The Minnesotans are
becoming tattletales and call the police all the time over every tiny little
dispute, differences in lifestyles, and irritation in miscommunication. Yikes.
We’re adults here, no? Yes. Speak to each
other unless, it’s a matter of life or death. Otherwise, don’t panic, get out
of control or insult anyone. The Minnesotans represent their immigrant
ancestors and we must live and let
live or we’ll kill each other off like rats. (Rats eat each other.)
Yikes.
The Minnesotans aren’t rats. No, Sir!
We’re as peaceful, as beautiful and as
pacifist as the Ticos (Costa Ricans) under a hot sun and a light breeze.
Please don’t drink the Kool-Aid and lose our
excellence in behavior, but do most certainly chill out, breathe and relax.
Have a beer! Un Cerveza. (No, I didn’t say get publically intoxicated I simply
offered a beer.)
If people are smoking adult tobacco
cigarettes and they’re too close to public entrances, then gently and kindly
let them know each and every time not to
do so.
*) (if you have no idea about the real
troubles of Minnesota other than that,
of cigarette adult choice smoking, then I don’t know what to tell you? I really
must start writing about Minnesota meth and prostitution. Yep.) Don’t get
passive aggressive because it’s just not polite nor graceful to do so as proud
amazing Minnesotans that my Grandfather taught me which we are.
My Duluth, Minnesota Grandfather who shoveled snow in an undershirt and
loafers was my greatest role model. He was so gruff and loving. He wasn’t a
tattletale by any means. He was so open minded and loving: that something as a tobacco addiction was to be overlooked in order
to respect humans.
Even though the economy is bad and people are
rude and display bad tempers, he would’ve respected the lifestyles and the
individuality of others no matter what. Because like hell if someone was going
to call the police on him for shoveling snow in a T-Shirt and loafers in 15
below zero conditions at the age of 81. Please. This was a man and he lived as
he thought it best for his human condition and no one was going to dictate
otherwise. He had no idea how to tell others how to live. Nor do you! Nor do I!
Live! Live everybody! Goodness! Smiles go out
to you all around.
*) I’m also being informed that Minnesota
college students tell on other students over any little thing instead of
speaking directly to the person. Are we 2nd graders here in
Minnesota or are we adults? Well, are we adults or are we adults? Are we adults
or are we irritated control freak cowards? Please.
*) Egypt and Mexico’s elections. Incredible!
(Ha!)
*) To our beloved ones, friends,
acquaintances and others in the Northland who don’t have flood insurance, our
prayers are with you. (We know, we know.)
*) Here! Here! To Moose Lake, Minnesota.
*) According to FEMA reports, there wasn’t
one single incident of looting or one single stranded human who took to
shelters. What model citizens! In the middle of a disaster these brothers and
sisters showed the world what it’s to be just, kind, generous and intelligently
human to the needs of a whole community like those citizens in Japan. I commend
you! We’re so proud of those folks in the Moose Lake area which we respect and
acknowledge dearly. Hip! Hip! Hooray!
*) I’ve given up on color. I bought three
more similar grey T-Shirts.
I’ll look like I’m wearing the same outfit
daily, but I have enough grey T-Shirts to last me through quite a bit of time.
I’m so excited! That way I don’t have
to decide what to wear each day. The same looking pants and the exact same
looking T-Shirts! Hip! Hip! Hooray! To fashion and sticking to what one knows
to work best. (I know, I know.) I’m so lazy when it comes to fashion and
daywear. Well, it leaves more time and comfort for the other really important
stuff…