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September 30, 2010

 

“Once slavery in America was not seen as radical. It became, instead, a revolutionary idea that slaves should be freed. When we have lived under a pernicious power long enough, no matter how oppressive, we grow so accustomed to the yoke that its removal seems frightening, even wrong.” - GERRY L. SPENCE, From Freedom to Slavery

 

“Alien Nation” is one of the most intricate, complex and intelligent pieces of writing I’ve watched on the widescreen about racism in America since “Planet of the Apes”.

 

After I watched a re-run of “Planet of the Apes” I sat quietly and alone in a dark theatre afterwards for a long time and thought about the injustices of the world.

 

I had never seen so many truths about racism up-on the widescreen.

 

So many mixed, trapped and raging emotions about the subtleties of prejudice and racism combined were shown through many of the characters’ plights.

 

The storyline’s portrayal of racism wasn’t as serious as an overt blow to the face but the rest of the subtle messages about how humans’ mockery and upholding to a great deal of distain for those that we hold direct relationships to daily – (even when we think we understand the plight of others) – especially those closest to us.

 

Furthermore, even more so when a plight is true and real especially when we are challenged to stand for something – anything and mainly love, respect and consideration yet continue to make the same mistakes in the dehumanization process of others no matter what – that indeed is a great travesty because we are too smart a species not to reason and find logic in everything (That is humanity’s greatest contribution to the world that we have human brains that can reason out any injustice). The portrayal of racism in “Planet of the Apes” I’d like to think came from a place of understanding how to write about racial fears, misunderstandings and deep intricate notions in upbringing (parenting about culture and race) about how to interact with others who are not _______.

 

What else is there to do but to tread lightly forth even in the face of mockery and distain for living a life centered in culture, conflict and controlled chaos tossed in with racism, prejudice and classism and when the stove gets so hot that it could damage flesh all there is to do is to be silent and don’t put your hand on the stove. It’s unfortunate that people make it a liberty to tell others how they feel about their skin color, the way they dress and make assumptions about the economical status of another. Who is anybody to say what is happening in another human’s life?

 

Why are any assumptions made about other people and their plights?

 

One thing seems for certain every living organism lives a life to survive so add racism and prejudice to the mix and it just makes it that much more complicated just to get through a single day.

 

In this new century we must eliminate racism, prejudice and classism - I look to science fiction to take us into an ideal mental conditioning of how to evolve world perspective to contributing together and discovering new frontier – space travel. “Next Generation” need say more? “Weapons of mass destruction” Please, let’s move-on, people (I’m being facetious, because social physics teaches us to acknowledge all possibilities in disaster theory and maneuver within some of those confines to realize tangible factors in negotiable outcomes.)  World war has no place in the future of humanity; the theory that the world should go armed is - well, just that - a – theory: a series of thoughts combined to convey a possibility; isn’t it?

 

(I’m not anti forces, I understand the thought that goes into National security but it seems that world infrastructure requires serious consideration as well as global natural environments. Believe it or not organic matter always struggles to survive but it doesn’t mean that it can’t outlive humanity; why not? – Organic matter can become extinct at any given moment so will humans care for the environment or not? That’s a question I’d love to hear answered in a global environmental negotiations and convention; Will humans first decide if this issue is truly important to undertake for global evolution).

 

I’m being lazy brained but to cut to the chase it seems an archaic theory of thought to assume anything in a vast world with a world-bank and a world-government that has yet to unite as a whole. Alright, I’m working my brain, here. I’m getting warmed up to arrive at some destination about the intricacies of racism. I may not but I’ll try to think of valuable examples, whatever they may be.

 

Star Trek. I believe in doing away with currency, having little “The Jetsons” floating cars and directing a computer to construct food. Imagine we’d do away with poverty, hunger and misplacement of power and create one united race rather than nations, states, republics and providences of democracy, dictatorships, socialist, communist, anarchist, and monarchist constructs of politics.

 

Imagine eradicating all disease, hunger and homelessness from the face of the planet? Imagine. Technology will take us there…

 

In this century the human species-race could take the time to evolve as much more intelligent and gentle species ready for anything at anytime in space travel. I believe that the human race can eradicate murder, disease and hunger (let us evolve to a place where we peacefully address human confrontation and uphold to safety, respect and neutral interaction without ever being violent to any civilian) – starting with violent crime especially against any taxpaying civilians of working class livelihoods within any government of any microcosm of the world – a global government within differences in politics from region to region as citizens see fit to create and write laws for the benefit of a global civilization – Yes, it’s here in ink for you to read (another blog for another day) on the minor points in how to achieve such a construct.

 

People of the world – the middle class; the hard working people of the world who pay taxes have power and money because they have a say; Because, they pay for basic civic fundamentals such as free National Health Care, free National Elementary and University Education and Civilian Peace under all states and nations as its proven decently for Costa Rica, providences - due to the fact that they don’t have an army so all of that funding goes to the municipalities and free healthcare and free educational functions to all of their citizens – rich or poor. It’s a structure set up to help people succeed not fail in life. Right? Right.)

 

-       Middle Class world citizens are not slaves, serfs or forced labor nor should they be treated, thought-of nor implied as such.

 

(Much of the Global Middle Class are underpaid, dismissed and shunned; yet these are the smartest and hard working citizens who run the world – these are the people of the world as they should be). Communication has brought us thus far; what’s next in human development and evolvement? – Will citizens get to space travel, work and experience life in the next one hundred years? - (We ask a world bank and a world government). Yes, people are this smart. What’s next to come in this century? Could there be free Health Care and free Elementary and University Education for global citizens for the sake of evolving into something magnificent and spectacular? I was brought up to believe that health care and education were a human’s life-giving rights to civilization. I do need to express an opinion when I see fit – I’m logical and practical – what adult human isn’t?

 

Will the world-bank and world-government eradicate violent crime and allow for taxpaying citizens to evolve in the next century to an educated level and readiness for all world citizens and civilians to space travel? Now, that’s the “Next Generation”.

 

We are so close yet so far away from space travel – If only the world government and the world bank looked to the citizens for what they need and fulfill those responsibilities because middle class citizens work too hard to be dehumanized of their time, energy and amazing contributions to any future worth having children in. The middle class pays taxes to ensure that scientific, artistic and philosophical advances are made so that we continue to evolve. The end of the world is not at my front door this morning, but the sheer thought in the possibilities of what today could hold are outstanding. I’m present and alert in the cultivation of tomorrow.

 

When I think about it in all of my travels – I’ve always kept a journal with me to remember places, food, people’s political discussions, landscape, topography and plant matter simply to convey to some future generation that we were here, we existed, we lived and we made tremendous contributions to advancing the entire human race as you would in any beautifully formed formation at that moment when everyone steps forward in unison and no one skips a beat or loses tempo to the rhythm of time to create the most beautiful thing in the world; Harmony.

 

I can’t think of anything more beautiful than that.

 

I think about becoming a space travel writer – hopefully, in my life time. Could you imagine? I think that could be done. Right. I’m thinking about it so the thought could become a reality. Take the familia and go. “Oh, goodness” - that dream is just too delicious. We’ll see how life evolves, won’t we?

 

I’ve loved sitting on the last bleacher of any stadium while taking in the splendor and gravity of energy being created in unison while in participation and in appreciation for discipline in any form in contribution.

 

Did you get that? I know – It’s a blog like any other blog. It’s its genre.

 

I did. I get it - the reiteration. It’s done on purpose. See, nothing goes unnoticed in writing – it’s a rather poignant art form. Please, bare with me a little longer, I’m translating from Spanish into English – it’s a task alright and a daily exercise in language usage form. I’m thinking of taking a class in how meaning is conveyed precisely more so than Spanish anyway – it seems to me. I was thinking of taking a course specifically in that type of linguistics anywhere in the world. Why, not? Right.

 

I wrote it to convey to you the art of athleticism.

 

I love watching people be spectators of any sport. It’s so expressive and respectful for the most part everyone understands that they’re there for the love of watching something as beautiful as ballet - that is why I love to watch American football – I can see the formation, the choreography - the play, (if you will) and the timing of the game no differently and as thoughtfully and as mindfully as any ballet – Nature is a ballet and a ruthless one at that.  It takes A company / A team to create that type of beauty in unified harmony and I can appreciate that forethought - as a brave new world contemporary woman-of-the-world who loves flip-flops and high heels, certified for the health of the people; pesticide and chemical free, vegan and organic foods without using harmful preservatives in anything that a human being digests, it’s not about the certifications, per say -  it’s about the process of food and its distribution of wealth – hopefully, massive wealth across the board – that’s a middle class example for you because I understand the concept of mass wealth – I’m a Costa Rican. There is no reason for people to starve in the world any longer (another blog for another day). Rice and beans is all I have to say in mass quantity.

 

Pura Vida. To the Good Life. Yes, I am a Tica who loves Americano football y tambien futbol del mundo. Claro. I can tell you that I like American football as much as mid-western organic / plant-vegan products, services and information by small family-community run farms as well as all over the globe.

 

Farmers are the smartest and most political people I know. Period. They’re productively involved in the outcome of what happens to our future. This is not uncommon and neither is football. I’ll explain the strategy of this implementation into a world culture by methods of commercialism, marketing and the visual realm – global communication – for the sake of the peoples’ rights to be factually educated and knowledgeable about products, services and information – I only hope this becomes the future of advertising – teach me something I need to know and if you’re going to sell me a product well at least make sure it doesn’t put anyone at health risk, then I’ll consider buying a product that is worth its value like vegan and pesticide-free organic anything – could you imagine going to bed with such a burden? I can’t. Wouldn’t that be a conversation in itself? Nothing more nothing less. Moving on.

 

I love to sit back and laugh from time to time because what else is there to do but to appreciate beauty and not to take from it.

 

What is there not to love about it?

 

I am a woman and I can appreciate the minor points in movement, timing and forethought in anticipation for how to gracefully and with strength win any game. I am a contemporary woman and I was taught the art of appreciation. Now, I won’t go back. I can only go forth in further understanding of anything that I don’t know. How lovely. How magnificent. How generous of any woman to take interest and time to learn anything new for the rest of her life. What else is there? Money is not enough to make anyone happy. Communication, learning, and function do bring a great deal of understanding to any disciplinary form you choose to master – especially while in communication.

 

Why pay taxes at all? – Only, because most people do believe in a brighter future as they should; their children will be living in that bright future and that is enough-just-cause to make decisions as a World System of Middle Class Citizens and Civilians – That seems like a life-given-right to hope and to contribute as best seen fit – The HUMAN RACE will always have life-given-rights and that will never change so long as there is one human alive in the face of billions of galaxies – The Universe. Taxpaying citizens have the right to consider anything, create change and be granted safety, public civilities and resources not because it’s owed to the middle class but because they’ve worked for it. Entiende. Understand. Right.

 

It’s work. Energy. Time and discipline. Please. The middle class works too hard for their money and pay important taxes - they deserve, clean water, safe streets and no violent crime of any type should ever be condoned, disregarded or excused in any land. Why? Laws don’t always keep people safe and that means that they were written NOT with the best interest in the heart for civilians’ all encompassing life-given-rights to live – education and medical aid. These are not my theories and implementation – Nations are undertaking such responsibilities and tasks for the sake of their people. Splendid.

 

Let’s do away with any law that upholds discrepancies, loopholes and prejudices against taxpaying civilians.

 

I’m not an expert of politics but I was taught philosophy and that has made a world of difference in how I think about the world - it just seems that anything can be placed on the table for discussion. So let us discuss civilities, rights and safety for world civilians.

 

Any subject matter will do. Words don’t bite and weaponry does kill. So what is the alternative? World deprivation or world progress?

Let’s really discuss these issues because they are vital. Maybe, not today, but, some – day.

 

So the question is this: How will the world government eradicate violent crime against taxpaying citizens and civilians? I know-I know; - I sound like a text book. But that’s a hell of a question to answer. Isn’t it, now? All, - I could do was pose a question and take time for consideration.

 

The world bank has money. The governments have money. The conglomerates have money. The people have money. Please, what is next? What is in store for the human race to choose from? The Middle Class will ultimately make changes with the money the world has, otherwise - well, otherwise. Moving on. Next.

 

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A Short Discussion about Racism:

 

“Am I personally responsible for all slavery?” My husband, asked last night while in bed.

 

“As a white man, - you, personally are not responsible for slavery.” I answered him earnestly. “You, alone cannot carry the burden of this country’s forefathers and their injustices and cruelty upon those who were enslaved, but you and your skin, alone, represent that enslavement. It’s not fair but that’s just the way it is. The reality is that the only people who’ve been in recent power and with money have been people of light skin so you represent what others hate about power that they wish they had amongst their own people. You’re a scapegoat. It’s easy to put that much burden upon your shoulders because someone has to carry it, no?” I answered to instigate further communication.

 

Silence between us.

 

“The face of racism is changing in America.” He looked at me and I could feel his stare in the dark.

 

“No, it hasn’t.” I answered him. “You live in a white world. A world set up for you to be comfortable. You live in a world where the food, the smells, the clothes and the language benefits you. Everything in the Northern Tundra is structured for you to be comfortable in your world.” I raised my voice because I began to get passionate about the subject matter. It was almost one in the morning and I wanted to be heard, if not somewhere in the world at least in the dark with my husband.

 

“Well, there are more options now. Things are changing and now you can even have vegan options in the school system.” I got annoyed by my husband’s water down effort to be supportive but he made a great point. “It doesn’t work like that.” I said. “I was brought into a culture where I was forced to eat food that made me sick for weeks at a time that gave me diarrhea and acne and eventually constipation until I got it that packaged foods are just that packaged. Oh, what a sad thing to experience. Knowledge and wisdom about nutritional value is key to the well fare of the people. Diet can do that – it can wreak havoc. Amazingly sad that people didn’t know enough twenty years ago. I’m pissed that I had to fit into a white people’s world.” I exclaimed and he knew that I truly didn’t hold anything personally against him.

 

"It is slavery to adopt children from foreign countries and force them to live as you see fit. You can buy a kid and have yourself a family but the thing is this – you rob them of their cultural heritage in every way possible. I see children of color with white people and automatically I think slavery because I know firsthand that white American culture thinks of its superior intelligence as all encompassing. White American culture in general doesn’t even stop to consider that people don’t have the same sentimentalities and considerations as they do.” I stopped to take a deep breath and I just wanted to scream. I should have. It would’ve made me feel a lot better but I didn’t. Ah.

 

My husband took a hold of me and drew me close. He understood my anger, loss and disappointment in a culture full of resources, opportunities and assumptions. A world that thinks that everybody thinks in the way that is taught in all white educational American school systems, corporate American white institutions and the boob-tube, which depicts and tells an entire American culture how to think, react and be. We’ve constructed a world of make-believe and the more jargon, the more psychology we throw behind a label then the more we think of it as a truth and white American culture believes their truths are universal and my point is this: It’s not.

 

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A Thought about Racism in Relationship to a Personal Experience: (nothing more nothing less):

 

A type of Caucasian American woman writes me a letter and states the following: “I can only imagine that your refusal to talk to me and resolve past wounds is due to your emotional incapacity – and so I do keep you in my prayers.”

 

I burst out laughing and thought of her God as a bigoted _______. Have the courage to ask me; “Are you emotionally incapable of communication?”

 

If she even so much as dared to have the courage to ask that question at least I could have had an ounce of respect to courageously have answered her question in return. She didn’t allow for such an opportunity in communication and conflict. She was cowardly and made statements rather than asked questions she was nothing more than something to laugh off in that moment as I read her letter. Why not? Something of a clown.

 

First, she insulted my emotional ability in strength to stay away from her abusive words and then she wrote that she kept me in her prayers. That’s a contradiction in terms and a way to emotionally overpower another. That is manipulation and unfair between two women of two vastly different world views, discourse and communication styles. I was beside myself to the point that all I could do was to go in search of hot mate and a good journal.

 

What this specific Caucasian American woman doesn’t seem to understand is that because I will not follow her doctrine in train of thought and in behavior that I must be emotionally incapable of communication, then something must be wrong with me not with her to bully a communication out of me. See, it’s so simple. Right? Right.

 

Communication is optional. Never forget that.

 

Now, that I know the truth about this particular human in her particular circumstance I choose not to play the game at all.

 

I have asked this particular woman to leave me alone, but every month as letters and calls arrive in my inboxes it appears that she has no control over her emotional incapacity to respect and follow through with my requests for silence and to think, breathe and be. This is an overpowering bully who cannot hear what is being asked of her and - that has been conveyed to her - to please comply to certain terms of socialization without making assumptions about what a person can or cannot do as a grown adult Indiana woman but she can’t because she is so self-important that she will not listen to something that truly needed to be conveyed amongst two intelligent women so she smothered rather than be silent and patient like an Indian in the woods (another blog for another day).

 

What I hate; (Yup, I wrote it – I am not afraid to write or speak the word H-A-T-E; here it is in black ink for you to read just like the word L-O-V-E is spelled out for you – I was taught to never be afraid of any word and its usage of the English language) about her variety of human as a Caucasian critical American type of woman - is that, she’s had more opportunities than most ever will and she mis-uses her power in communication.

 

Now, that assumption is a privilege and uncouth, frankly. Please have the courtesy and class to directly communicate with others, because that is a luxury that comes deeply with respect and acknowledgement for another in communication and it’s a luxury that we can’t afford to lose as global citizens.

 

Dehumanization is dehumanization and since we can’t use chains and shackles anymore then it seems that the greatest slavery in America is criticism, exploitation and bigotry right along with the dis-illusion-ment of control of others. Funny, isn’t it? What a travesty that is indeed.

 

When people drop the ball from a place of selfishness, heroic tendencies and undisciplined tendencies in consideration for others then all I can do is nothing but stand still and hold the ball; I can do nothing but hold very still and think about nothing but inner peace, silence and purpose to become a great, intelligent and kind human mind with strong boundaries – not because its expected of me but because it’s the person that I want to be. Nevertheless, I don’t have to burn off my hand to know that the stove is hot and burns of any temperament will hurt no matter what. See, real - easy. Right.

 

I don’t want to play with this type of person; when they make assumptions. That’s no fun.

 

I choose not to interact with a human who debilitated and crushed me in ways that only a spiritual slave master can crush another. At that time I allowed for the mistreatment of being used because I didn’t know any different. I didn’t know that I could choose to walk away. I didn’t know that it was okay for me to ask for all of the time in the world to be myself and to say, “No.” I have options and you will not feed from my soul any longer. Be gone you – you “American devil” – (I read that expression in a book once and since the author took the liberty for such usage of an expression then I have as well). I know exactly what that expression means and I am using it in its utmost literal literary generationally translational terms. I meant to use it for this specific purpose; (Don’t think that I’ve gone mad by any means. Writing like this makes people stop and think; “What is she talking about?” Hopefully, getting people to open up their minds and think about their prejudices about racism.

 

My best friends are Caucasian, beautiful, intelligent and kind women. I’ve held these types of conversations about race with my closest female friends without shame, whatsoever, so I will have non here, either as I type.)

 

I’m not afraid of words and I was taught never to be afraid of them especially in the face of adversity.

 

You can say anything you want.

 

You can scream in fact and I will do nothing but blink as racial slurs fly by my head – but if you so much as lay a hand on me then we have entered into a serious realm of no return. When someone takes the liberty to threaten your person or personal space then I have the right to protect myself by all means necessary and I will do the same with my soul. I’m a grown woman and all grown women know this to be true for them. They don’t allow for others to mock them, distain them or question who they are – not what they do but who they are. My Gods only reserve that right between them and myself. It's private.

 

I’m not talking about everyone in the whole world (I’m pretty intelligent and I know in what ways), but this is a specific person who has created real injustices in the world and has character assassinated, physically abused and manipulated their power as well as gossiped untruths for their own amusement to communities of people that I love about others that I love deeply and I have stood by silently as people’s lives and reputations have been torn apart because I know that the truth can and does set itself free. If I know the lie to be a travesty then the people telling them know them far more so intricately than I ever could. I don’t repeat what I hear but I do and will rebuttal anything – especially a gossiper – who is not a concerned citizen for the well being of a group dynamic but rather passive aggressive in their approach rather than direct communication. The thing about being an introvert is that extraverted humans seem to assume that we’re not participating but really we are taking in the scope of an entire situation and considering.

 

If emotional injustices could be punishable by law this human would be paying for it as Holocaust Nazis should behind bars for all of eternity. She is her own prison and that makes me deeply sad for her but not enough to get burned again in our vastly different cultural outlooks in and out of communication. Ah, this is how lessons are learned, just don’t do it again and don’t let it happen. People will set others up for failure because frankly those who are truly insecure are just that and – they feel like failures so their deepest wish is for others to fail along with them especially when it comes down to taking your humanity for sport and gain. RUN!

 

I know, that you know – exactly, what I’m talking about. This is a new generation. A new voice and others will come after us. For better or for worse we’re the bi-product of a hippie generation turned yuppie and disassociated from the soul essence of a spiritual and calm life to further a generation of art appreciators.

 

Created drama. Write a play or an opera and tell it to the world. Leave it to the pages of an Austin novel or a Telenovela.

 

If you write an opera then I’ll be seated in the front row or in some balcony and cheering you on and rolling my Tica “Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs”.

 

I don’t have pity for people who mess up nor - hatred for that matter, but rather laughter for their monotheistic ideals about the way people communicate and don’t. Any Assumption made is something that I have the liberty to mock and laugh at because mainly assumptions are ideals and notions about how people think things should be and not as they are with intricate complexities. I can honour a question in communication.

 

If I don’t talk with you, after you’ve ripped my heart out then that says more than any word I could ever possibly utter. The message is loud and clear as an Indiana I stick to my own people that I know their validity and their intelligence for problem solving from a place where they have other’s best interest at heart. This isn’t a negotiation it’s an expectation to become a better citizen in a global economy and politics. Wasted words upon wasted words and dishing out insults every time someone communicates – can, be ignored because people when they are out of control ought to be shunned while they regain composure as most people who have to redeem themselves ought to be for a length of time – that’s some real Indiana stuff for you.

 

If she doesn’t get that then she lives in a microcosm of her Caucasian-ness in an almost forgotten world of Puritan traditions, values and sentiments about power and that one passed the world by. You cannot manipulate others into eating from your hand like a little bird, nor make others feel bad about the very clear and essential powerful decisions they can make and will continue to make as grown adults of the world. Many negotiations require a great deal of consideration especially when it comes to a high quality of life. Like living in peace and being left alone to be productive, thoughtful and mindful without criticism, distain or mockery to think and express, oneself, evidently.

 

It generally takes me about a year to arrive at any conclusions about anything and this one took me a decade to arrive at a place where I was smart enough to get out of her line of fire. I’m smart. Why would I take more abuse from a little girl who thinks she rules her world. “Live, eat shit and die” as some of my East Coast skateboarding friends taught me to express myself;  I’ll come back to you on your death bed until that day, peace. I choose my people and they choose me because love, peace, calmness, tranquillo and kindness thrives amongst us. Not because control and power are our God(s).

 

I wondered why in her narcissistic mind she can’t possibly ask the following: “What did I do – that, caused for this person close to me to want to get as far away from me as possible – especially while in conflict?” And, if not in conflict then live-and-let-live. Moving on. Next.

 

I have asked that of myself and in the darkest regions of my heart I have found ugly and difficult truths about – who- I was until I made up my mind that it was my fault and I had wronged others due to my stupidity at times, but never out of malice only out of pure ignorance and that can always be rectified. At least, I’m able to admit it as any real human admits to any real aspects of their core being. You have to be strong though, to ask such a difficult question and more so to answer it.

 

Do you ever wonder why prejudice and racism exists in the world?

 

I don’t.

 

I’m down from my soap-box. Thank you, very much.

 

Gabriela.

 

P.S. Correction: For the record and quoting my husband, “I was not just trying to go to sleep.” (I love that!)

 

September 29, 2010

 

“It is change, continuing change, inevitable change, that is the dominant factor in society today. No sensible decision can be made any longer without taking into account not only the world as it is, but the world as it will be.” - Isaac Asimov (Russian born American science-fiction Writer and Biochemist. 1920-1992)

 

A RANT: Good Morning: I think about the following words: Political Correctness and Racism:

 

Please keep in mind that I’m trying to get to the core of racism and political correctness by simply thinking about it.

 

I’m exercising my brain this morning.

 

I’d hope that you’d continue to question on your own.

 

This is not written on stone of any kind but I’ve held enough discussions with American Caucasian women about this subject matter in particular and we’ve arrived at many understandings. Like, all complex subject matter it either needs to be dealt with head on or tip toed around. I’m generalizing but also getting at something much larger than race in example:

 

A type of American Caucasian female Attitude and privilege is what I’ll try to address.

 

This is a rant about a specific incident and a specific Caucasian American woman (let us be very clear about that) If you’re too daft to think that I am not intelligent enough to decipher though the layers of communication amongst people then most likely you should not read this entry because it will bring your blood pressure through the roof.

 

Thinking is like training for a marathon. Well, you have to think to train the brain muscle (another blog for another day).

 

Hopefully you’ll have a nice day!

 

{There are only five people in my life that I have ever talked to – truly, talked to about being indigenous and a woman in the world. That’s two strikes against me in the world anyway you look at it. It just is – I’m not complaining.

 

I’m not special and I learned that early on as I got the life beaten out of me in a third world country as a little girl. I learned that Indigenous anything was dirty and not worthy of a life from non Indianos. If you don’t know about the racism towards Africanos and Indianos in Central and South America then I’d suggest throw away your little tour guide book and open up your eyes. Indigenous people are not a trophy in other parts of the world – rather they are mierda. Actually, they are the very dirt you walk upon…

 

…That’s just cultural because even though the conquistadores did a lot for the ‘Americas’ – their ruthless cruelty and notions about Africanos and indigenous peoples are so goddamn deeply embedded into its cultural bloodline that sentiments are still a hundred years held back in the economical and educational efforts of those who are just a little too dark and look just a little bit too much like monkeys. You didn’t have to say it, I did. Racism is real in other parts of the world. Real like you can get a bullet in the head for it - real.

 

Real as in the dehumanization in the East  and world cruelty as in yes, believe it or not - little dark-skinned girls are forced into sexual labor to wet the appetites of males who have money to go on sexual vacations and sleep with twelve year olds because other countries laws don’t forbid it.

 

Like I’ve said before my contributions don’t amount to much if one little girl suffers in the world and they do each and every day because we believe others are lesser than others therefore; racism at its crippling and dehumanizing effects.

 

No global human should ever be forced into sexual labor – ever. Otherwise, we won’t evolve with that type of present misuse of power.

 

Please, travel anywhere else other than your microcosm and you’ll realize that being indigenous and a woman makes anybody a target unless you’re American and your attitude and clothes show it. In America the citizens can cushion a racial blow through passive aggressive nature, mockery or hiding behind the dark and heavy dusty cloak of political correctness.

 

A friend this summer said to me, “It’s not politically correct to call a Native American an Indian.” “Like hell it is!” I responded. I was astounded to have my friend say this to me; I was not hurt or insulted simply I just wanted to challenge him a little to think outside of his microcosm.

 

“Well, every brother and sister I’ve ever met that is an Indian has introduced themselves or made jokes about the word ‘Indian’. Sometime, in your life gain the trust of the people and travel through Indian country because it will change you and all your notions about what is politically correct and what isn’t.” I winked at him just so he knew that it wasn’t anything personal.

 

I love my Caucasian male friend and his silliness and I don’t pretend to understand him when I don’t.

 

His far too educated to get hung up on words. Please, we need all bright human minds to get us through this transitional phase in history. We are about to burst with another cultural and intellectual renaissance but America also crumbles structurally, spiritually and economically. We must not get hung up on the silliness that is fed to us through media and such other nonsense. Every frame presented to you is in one form or another a manipulation of information; no matter how professional a piece may be presented – something specific is being conveyed for you to take notice and try to understand, somehow and its structured to do just that and we must never lose sight of how information is being presented – boob-tube and any visual image for that matter. Or at least that’s how I was taught to think about visual information. Cheers!

 

This American pace, this propaganda;

 

 (If it isn’t a newspaper story about bed bugs then it’s the boob-tube or some such other silliness that holds a culture back from exploration, adventure and wisdom. Almost every aspect of advertisement is centered on fear, aggression, competition and some such silliness about fear and more fear. Fear to never amount to anything, fear of not being good-looking enough or smart enough. Fear about fear. It’s such bull and the young-educated buy into this media-culture of fear because they are too afraid to venture out and seek other perspectives, wisdom and knowledge from world elders, in general. In America our boob-tube forces us to be afraid of the elderly and getting pregnant as young vibrant women by simply hardly ever seeing images of pregnant women and elders living perfectly normal and healthy lives. The young can stay trapped and plugged into their mini-boob tubes they carry around in their pockets like lifesavers. I am not against technology, but I am against making it my entire life. Technology is here to enhance my life not to take from it. I use it when I need it to convey something not when I want it to fulfill me in some introspective way but then, again I don’t get too attached to little devices by having them be as my main life force – especially in wild environments… I can concentrate on the present and not on my mini-pocket devices.

 

…A world of daily decision making for the greater good, a world of silence, a world of inner confidence to speak to anyone at any given point if necessary and trusting from one stranger to another.

 

Our war is not abroad.

 

Our war is here.

 

As world citizens we must take back our cultures.

 

We are not a Gestapo Nation.

 

Online media may have brought a heightened level of voyeuristic tendencies which is human nature to want to look in and see the wonder of others’ lives. People do live out beautiful existences.

 

We work so hard in America on the weird and the superficial rather than concentrating on ways to make the world much better for those who have nothing but the sky and live in despair. We give energy to what we believe to be important and therefore power to things that will not matter on anyone’s deathbed. Definitely, not mine… The boob-tube can go to hell for all I know because information has changed and the distribution of it.

 

I get my sources from people that I hold intimate, intelligent and kind discussions with.

 

These are the people who I find far more important than any reliable news outlet.

 

A media source will not hold a discussion with me about how to create real change, so I look to humans in the flesh and bone to tell me about world news and politics because these are people who don’t read the news for a living from a teleprompter these are people who are making the news in every corner of the world and that’s a reliable source that I can trust on.

 

…I find that as a whole we are on fire. We are a hot culture with so much to offer others but we can’t much less take the time to be civil with strangers. If that isn’t telling of a culture that is far too immature and going through growing pains then I don’t know what is? People suffer greatly in America and people develop and persevere greatly in America.)

 

I don’t mean to get too political but the Europeans taught me to bring politics to the table with a bottle of Vino along with some great cheese and grapes. So, here it is… let’s pretend that you’re sitting at my table, per say: Now, I’m not the most politically correct human and I purposely do that so to challenge any thinking mind. Something to throw on the table of discussion: If FDR were alive today could he have the know-how and the power to bring home the troops from the Middle East? How would he productively set out to work? Would he have created technological, educational, financial, environmental, medical and humanitarian Corps as he did in the 30’s?

 

Back to one: In film speech: Back to the beginning of this internal rant: Racism is tricky to do in general much more in politically correct terms.

 

Is political correctness a way to deny the ability to discuss racism in America?

 

The moment I’m told, “No.” Conversation Over. Game Over. I’m not playing because I choose not to play the game at all.

 

I’m aggressive in my literary vacuum but if you’ve ever had the chance to really discuss the problems of politico America with me directly in a respectful manner then you know that there is far too much laughing going on to get revved up about who’s right or wrong in any political conversation.

 

I’m inclusive.

 

I want to know what you have to say, what you think and why and I will not badger you into discussion because that is any adult’s decision to discuss on their own and I will grant you the courtesy to take the lead in any discussion. I am that smart that I can talk about any topic of conversation with anyone at any time. I will coax you and tease you to be intelligent because truly there is nothing more magnificent than thinking adults. I know who I am and I know where I come from and I know the difference between polite discourse and intellectual discourse. Need say more! Fiesta! Food, open discussion, drink and be merry. We are.

 

Who is anyone an authority on anybody else? Why is it that creative problem solving solutions are not an option amongst the young of America? Is racism entitlement and privilege to think that your way is the only way? Is racism trying to get one over another? Is racism being cruel because you think you know more than one constructive way to argue a point? Is political correctness some brainwashed form of racism in representation of mockery and a “nuvo riche” mode of privileged communication? No, wait that’s just prejudice.

 

What is it when someone comes in and makes themselves authority over another? Knowing perfectly well that what they think they have won over the other is power by being extremely manipulative through political correctness?

 

That’s just a...but why are they common place amongst Caucasian educated and privileged American women in general? My Grandmother wasn’t like that so I can only think that it’s generational.

 

Don’t get me wrong I’ve had the great pleasure and pure joy of holding open discussion with lovely, intelligent and privileged Caucasian women in America and I have challenged them by asking further questions.

 

They’re direct questions and I’ve sat in rooms around tables where beautiful women have had the courage to answer such directness because they understood that it was their responsibility to think as conversational partners and not as MVP but as leaders. Beautiful! What is there not to love about intelligent women? A little mental challenge never hurts anyone – simply have the courtesy to have the best intentions for the other when asking and I do have their best interest at heart.

 

Do the mothers of Caucasian educated privileged American contemporary women not teach them self-love rather than self loath? (Tongue in cheek, ladies – tongue in cheek).

 

What is it exactly that makes their passive aggressive hostility towards other women of color just that? What do American Caucasian women hate so much about other women in general about healthy competition? I look to runners to teach me wisdom – so it must not be competition but something more theological and spiritual. Oh, I know I wrote it – there I go again with those two words (another blog for another day). Do you hate that we don’t play by the same rules that apply to you towards Caucasian American males in terms of communication? Do you hate that women of color think your entire system of feminism is crumbling and it’s so obvious to everybody else around the globe? Do you hate that you’re hated with the same hatred that you express for men for those who are militant feminists; Except that others are more overt and not passive aggressive about their prejudices – they’ll come out and tell you what they don’t like? Do you hate that you don’t know how to take your place at a global table? Why won’t the American Caucasian woman take a seat and relax? Why must she have to prove her authority over everything that lives? Is she so insecure that she must prove her every breath? (Tongue and cheek).

 

“Careful, American white women are NOT like Russian white women.” He told me while I gave him a haircut in my kitchen yesterday afternoon. I’m aware that I realize that major distinction. When I lived amongst Russians I came to understand and loved their hardened disposition and quiet rage. I liked that they didn’t run around telling people if they had permission to be themselves or not but if a “mother-bear” spoke up then holy you’d listen because she actually had something of value to say. What I like about the Russians, (I know) is that they do not pussy foot around anything. They are real, firmly direct and without shame about their attitudes and sentiments but like hell if they are going to get in the way of your personal business. These, are people who have been oppressed and enslaved by a cruel history and an economic enslavement yet they persevere everyday as best as they can.

 

These are people – the Russians who understand oppression to its deepest core, yet they live and let live.

 

I think it’s because they realize and know that war could be upon them at any moment no different than the Indians. Indians are all different as in any culture all people are different, but most Indians are taught that war is and can be upon them at any moment so they do not allow for their bodies to go soft and their minds to go idle. Indians are no different than Russians in this sense they know that anything of true value from the human heart could be enslaved at any moment so they know that when it comes time to fight a real fight they are prepared to sacrifice for the human race.

 

In America, the privilege that is bestowed upon us is that we don’t have anyone on our turf shooting off semi-automatic weapons and taking over our boarders, that - thought is inconceivable that that will ever happen. The thought is so privileged that the overall sentiment is that we are a special country with special powers and that we are untouchable because ‘America is the land of the chosen people’ – whatever that means. Just look at our streets. They’re falling apart. Pity.

 

Point: The plights of the American people are so drastically different than those of India, China, and Japan.

 

We have only ideas and ideals when the privileged believe that it is their right to be comfortable so long as others in the world go uncomfortably hungry - then, I do have a raging war inside my heart.

 

“As long as I don’t see it then it doesn’t exist.” It seems to be the overall cultural consensus about racism and oppression in America. As long as sweatshops, forced sexual and menial labor are done by men, women and children in other countries then just sell it to me for a few bucks, but lord-only-knows rarely does anybody look inside the clothes for labels and really thinks about what the hell happened to those little hands that most likely bled for just a bit of food and some water at the end of the day in the making of any garment. Children suffer all over the world from forced labor this is not an archaic construct but a reality in the world today.

 

If you think that the world is as privileged as America - is - how greatly mistaken you are. You can find drinking water that won’t kill you within fifty miles. How remarkable for Americans? Indeed. (Okay so, again - I’m being facetious.)

 

If you only travel on the beaten path to hotels and beach resorts and get drunk, sleep with twelve people in the span of a week and come home with rotting diseases then it serves you right. That’s just... If you’ve never walked the streets of barrios, ghettos and human basic survival waste in other countries then…and looking for a good time at the cost of the local’s expense no different than touching wildlife and taking pictures of strangers’ plights for game and sport.

 

If you’ve ever been presented with the responsibility to care – but, too, grossed-out to look at the atrocities of the world then you’re not thinking and that’s worst than being stupid – it means you know but you pretend it away, otherwise. What a lie. Okay, so I’m getting pushy now in the writing to challenge you to think about discrepancies in some of my own writing. It’s logic and reasoning; like a MAD book except it’s more like a maze of random observations and eventually it’ll lead to some avenues of clear thinking about privilege – who knows? – Maybe the next theory in…?

 

I know doctors and humanitarian workers who’d take you into the real heart of these nations and show you what true suffering is from gonorrhea, malaria, dysentery, aids, famine, and worse: lack of water, education and electricity – what we all take for granted as Americans or do we? What is media hype and what is really happening?

 

You don’t have to go to a foreign country to see such devastation - try any ghetto in America – I have – It’s nothing to go home and brag about because it will sink your heart to your stomach. Believe it or not ghettos exist and people suffer greatly in America. Pockets of homeless dealing with real life as it comes at them. So this is what I have to say to a type of American Caucasian woman that I’m being challenged by: people aren’t asking for your permission to their lifestyles.

 

A woman showed her true colors with me and I was so very disappointed in this lady’s lack of direct function and purpose in life when so educated yet so blinded by privilege. I hate everything dehumanization represents. I hate vulgarity and assumptions. If people are so privileged then what gives? Why so sheltered, mediocre and sad? What do you want from life that you cannot get? What do you want that you must take? What do you want? What?

 

You have the power to create change for the better so why not contribute?

 

It’s not an insult it’s a fact…The city is not for the sheltered and the privileged we have to much contributions to be made.

 

The city is not for the meekly nervous unless they overcome...

 

The city is not a dormitory with hallway passes and grading marks.

 

Life is real. And you’ll meet people who you will not be able to trust.

 

Life is not an educational institution.

 

…The city is not for everybody especially when you’ve got feisty people like me living in it. I hate the behavior in women who pretend to be strong for the sake of self empowerment at the cost of others.

 

Thank the Gods I write and I’m not in the army. I would’ve been a soldier who would’ve questioned everything.

 

When people don’t realize their own privilege because it’s a privilege to live in an environment that caters to your every need, whim and cultural outlook then you become uncouth and that will not do.

 

Like I’ve said before:

I love therefore I hate.

I hate therefore I love.

 

Are Caucasian women without true power in America?

 

I don’t believe that for one moment, so please let us not make victims out of any population that has power.

 

Caucasian contemporary women just got the vote about a hundred years ago, no? Why are some Caucasian women portrayed to compete cruelly against each other in advertisements? Isn’t there enough suffering amongst women in the world? Why are portrayals of Caucasian women so manipulative and petty on the boob-tube?

 

Is it racist to question the place of Caucasian women in society?

 

Is it petty to want to know what makes an injured animal bite? What has happened to the Caucasian sisters of American society? Do they not understand that Caucasian women, too, have a place in the world? Is that why Caucasian women take up so much space with their actions and bullying natures? Who taught the some Caucasian woman to be so? I don’t believe that the Greatest Generation of women acted in such fashion but I do wonder if injustices festered in their hearts and had the 'pink elephant' grow heavier inside them. What happened to Caucasian women between the Greatest Generation and Gadget Generation – who haven’t had the complete chance to contribute to the world at large, yet due to their age and youth in the world?}

 

Much Respect but many questions about placement, position and feminine portrayal of power in some Caucasian American privileged female societies must be addressed. Let us move forward as one Nation.

 

Peace.

 

Gabriela

 

September 28, 2010

 

“An idea, like a ghost, must be spoken to a little before it will explain itself.”  - Charles Dickens

 

I took a deep breath.

 

“Explain it to me, if you will.” He inquired of me.

 

I didn’t want to have to explain anything to him and much less to anybody else about anything. I felt lazy brained.

 

Silence between us.

 

“Do you want anything else?” He tipped his cup with a quick flick of his wrist and poured the last of his drink out a window as his watch made a sound of a hundred thousand dollar metal clank. Suddenly, I became annoyed by that sound.

 

“No thank you.” I looked down at my hands and wanted to pick at my nails but I didn’t because I was brought-up by a grandmother who taught all of her grandchildren to be perfect ladies and gentlemen in the world...I know. (Perhaps, an old and Puritan ideal about raising grandchildren but there-it-is; East Coast style, nevertheless.) I felt uncomfortable and shy. Not cutesy shy. Truly, shy because the courageous question needed time to be answered and he always seemed in a damn hurry, so what would the point be in trying to hold a serious conversation as his question posed? He was serious and so was I only because he was.

 

{I thought about trying to answer HIS question and then fighting for his time. I didn’t want to do that - I also thought about getting up and leaving. I thought: ‘I could return when I’m ready to courageously give a lengthy and honest answer, but would that be rude?’ I thought about getting something stronger than a mate, that’s for sure. Maybe, if I added some sugar and milk I could warm up my little hands. I thought many thoughts. I thought about answers and how to deliver this one. I thought about an approach. I thought about being a complete snob but I’m a grown women so I don’t go there with people and then I thought about what if I were asking this question then what would I have meant by it? Why could he not speak Spanish or ___________________? 

 

“Do you like it?” I looked around an empty space and visualized his blueprints.

 

“Yes, I do.” What I really wanted to do was to run my skateboard the length of the floor.

 

“Organic-Hydroponics, over there and irrigation along here.” He pointed at the floor. I stood up and walked the length of the empty space in high heels and listened to my echo. I loved being there with very little furnishings but a thermos, a picnic basket and a table and some chairs. We were going to make the most of our time and I knew that he was going to challenge me to think beyond my capacity to understand. My role as an intellectual peer would be to get him to think as well because he has all the power and the money in the world to instill change. I knew it and he knew it as well. We didn’t pretend with each other. Why would we?

 

Like I read in the Parade Article on Sunday about ADHD (‘ “My mind is always jumping all over the place,” says Dr. Louis DeLuca, 45, a plastic surgeon and ADHD sufferer in Boca Raton, Fla. “It’s like having 16 movies going on in your head, all at the same time.” ’)}

 

He sat back down with a beer. He took a hard swig and set the bottle down firmly and directly on a steal table top near a window.

 

“At least tell me why?” He raised one eyebrow and I went still-very-still like any animal in any forest when it knows it’s meat.

 

“I don’t know how to answer that.” I didn’t look up because I didn’t like where it was going – I didn’t like being asked why I wouldn’t discuss not wanting to discuss a subject matter. That was just too much for me in that moment.

 

I looked away to my right and deeply thought about saying anything at all but I did yearn to use proper words for lack of misunderstandings between us.

 

“Think. It can’t be that difficult.” He challenged me with a crooked smirk on his lips. I liked the way his teeth sat in his mouth. Not perfectly but not classically natural.

 

“Do you mean what aspect of it or how?” I wanted to get out of it.

 

“Sure, how to develop it?” Oh, Gods…more questions. I was beginning to want to draw him a flow chart.

 

{I took another gulp of my mate and needed to excuse myself – find a backdoor and grab some fresh air. I stood still then went outside. Thank the Gods he didn’t follow me – he was a grown adult. I needed a moment to think through his words. His words and not the other 16 bloody reels running inside my ADHD mind. I can be focused, organized, and calm and finish tasks. I was much more impulsive as a youngster but I’m trying to settle myself down and not take up sky-diving for the sake of it because frankly that is not something that I have the stomach for. I had to concentrate because otherwise I knew I’d create an injustice and take the lazy approach. I just wanted to chill and say nothing to him, but that wasn’t going to be an option. It was just that simple for me. I thought about going home and taking a siesta.

 

No matter which way I looked at it I was not his intellectual equal but I could give him a run for his money if I chose to. I’m the one with the ADHD but he was the one who wouldn’t stop fidgeting with his whole body and I couldn’t trust him to really have the ability to listen for the intellectual intricacies and challenges in my answer. Quickly, I searched through my cranial catalogue for a quick, easy and simple answer to get him off my back, but some part of my intellectual muscle got aggravated by his approach and his smell of ____ and I liked it.

 

I was thrown off by animal scent and I couldn’t help but blush. I felt totally inept at communicating with this particular human man. I wished I had a soul-translator by my side. I thought about my husband helping gap this miscommunication bridge from the start. I wanted to give him a swift kick to his rear end (inner visual imagery) for opening up a can of worms.  He, side swiped me and I was not ready for a challenge of this magnitude – like, trying to play speed-chess after seventeen years of collected dust in the crevices of muscle memory.

 

Ah! I was going to have to answer him and I was going to have to be direct, honest and sincere thank gods not about what meant anything to me but about how to implement a culture of science that would be willing to creatively think about alternative resources to fuel. He had brought me there to work and I was too comfortable and lazy to want to think about combustion energy much less talk about it. I thought; ‘Look up the subtle complexities of combustion energy and its equation when I get back home and research Nikola Tesla, once more’.

 

‘Okay’, I placed a strand of hair behind my one year and straighten my bracelet. I wanted to roll up my sleeves and go to work on paper but that would’ve been too dramatic so I quickly did visualization exercises that I was taught when I speed skated as a youngster. I saw a web-map of intricate outlines extending outwards to titles of main-subject matter, sub categories and other related topics with points benefiting my linguistic outcome. I saw a two-column outline of pros and cons. I turned the page inside my intellectual visual space and I wrote out the main thesis. I understood what I stood for but I did not know how to conclude with an exodus point in view on how to implement alternative resources to fuel into a culture that falls back on archaic economical means of fuel profit for the benefit of few and the labor of most.

 

As humanly as possible I worked one of my strongest and yet laziest of muscles – my human brain. I categorized at flashing speed because that, is - what the damn ADHD brain does – it categorizes. Not only that but I can also quote back by verbatim, (which I choose not to very often because it’s annoying as hell to others and it’s obvious by their facial expressions that they hate it. Naturally, my brain does this thing where it looks for all of the loopholes, first. Oppositions, next as well as discrepancies not in the essence of a function but in the application of and introducing options and solutions and then the possibilities of construction, function and clarity through a dialogue of linguistics which gets misinterpreted anyway because a word - any, word means a series of many different images to everybody – so we can only get so close to conveying the ut-most necessities but we will fail each and every time to ‘walk a mile in any other man’s shoes’ if you will.}

 

Anyway, aside from the rant…

 

Gabriela

 

P.S. I’m losing the light.

I’ve got to grab my girl and head out.

I’ll finish this some other time.

Wishing you a beautiful dusk.

People are out enjoying the last of these warm summer-fall nights.

We had frost this weekend on the North Shore.

The mother-eagle was not out and about. I’m looking forward to sitting in the woods and catching sight of her.

 

September 27, 2010

 

“Take control of your consistent emotions and begin to consciously and deliberately reshape your daily experience of life.”

- Tony Robbins

 

Truly, it was a beautiful day.

 

I saw and met with many different people today.

 

I wandered the streets of Minneapolis at dusk through alleyways by foot.

 

I ran into old acquaintances in alleyways and stopped to inquire about their health.

I saw dancers doing African like movements at an art center which I had never visited before.

I walked by a Boutique and peeked in at their beautiful fall fashions by way of the alley entrance.

I walked through a Park twice and watched dusk take over the sky.

On my way back from downtown (we) ran into an old acquaintance of mine from Junior High.

He looked so good and healthy I could do nothing but compliment his amazing looks.

 

I sat amongst my old neighbors and drank cheap Champaign while we took in the last of the summer nights on their front porch. I met a new neighbor and briefly discussed travelling through Frankfurt and Munich, Germany. My next door neighbors and I spoke about makeup and haircuts – oh, how exciting.

 

In the early afternoon I grocery shopped alongside women who were aware and alert of their surroundings.

Women who read labels and were picky about what they bought.

I dealt with neighbors and cleaned out the garage.

 

I’m considered a contemporary-modern woman of the world. Or so it has been explained to me and I’m amused and joyful about the eccentricities of modern livelihood and conveniences in modern female times. This is the world I live in and its – well, funny. I guess, when any woman stops to consider what their pioneering ancestors' lived through then a broader perspective is shed on what we think and consider ourselves to be as modern women. Labels are a funny thing aren't they? Beautiful. No? Yes.

 

In my day a “Jewish American Princess” thought I was asking for her permission to entertain my guests, but how wrong she was.

I don’t ask for permission to be myself in my own backyard much less to entertain guests.

 

I was greatly misunderstood by two Caucasian women today.

The first, laughed in my face at my immediate misfortune earlier in the day.

The second, got into a power struggle with me – to her, there were no creative or alternative outcomes.

It was her way or no way.

So, ultimately, I’ll show her another way…a rebellious-quiet way.

 

I thought about dragging out a mattress from the garage and setting it on fire. Gods, that - would make a great scene in a film if it hasn’t already been done yet. Too bad I didn't go into major motion picture. I see films in my head according to timing, emotional dialogue and well, frankly always lighting. I would’ve tried to give the Jewish men a run for their money out in Hollywood like Walt Disney did but alas that’s not my designed schedule or timing in life.

 

Even more so I wanted to invite the entire neighborhood for ________ at four in the morning and let them loose in our backyard. I wanted to say, “Back it-the-____ up and don’t play God with me.”

 

I wanted to show her that at thirty-three years of age I don’t need her approval to have my guests smoke tobacco in the garage.

 

The tobacco plant is sacred to most Indigenous tribes I’ve come across.

I believe in the tobacco plant more so as one of many Gods than I would any human.

 

I don’t believe in pesticides or in additives of any type but I do believe in plants.

 

(Well, because I am shy even after I’ve told you my mind I retrieve - What else is there to do but to run away from weird confrontation – What am I going to do, yell? So what if I do? Most likely I leave a room – my Dada taught me that in my thirties, finally it sank in – I got it - as I’m finally getting the hang of billiards left handed). I was taught to be a politico Tica, Finn- Jew, old New England, Midwestern-Finn, German, and Swede, Texan thinker. Need say more? I have adopted ancestors who were in the Holocaust in Germany and they were not Jews and adopted ancestors who stood up against witch burnings in Salem. There are official records. Amazing! (Another blog for another day).

 

I’m a Mayan Indiana from the day I was born and that will never change.

 

Ultimately, people are weird about the simplest things in life like compromise. Weird. Right.

 

Like I said, Mayan Indiana and we don’t do well at being put under anybody’s thumb – we are courteous women but we are also gracefully strong with patience and endurance for the future to arrive. Why wouldn’t we be?

 

We’ve witnessed centuries of violence, destruction and cruelty, oppression and conquistadores in their highest realms of colonization. It means, that my ancestors have experienced physical slavery and that changes civilizations in the heart of the matter – that’s it. It’s a travesty and nothing special to go home bragging about because our history is a painful and beautiful one. I've stood by quietly all too often when it was of most importance for me to speak and I’ve lost my voice - it’s been a rocky terrain with disastrous outcomes - I don't suggest it but it had to be done – I stood by in silence – the awkwardness is enough to kill a small elephant. I know. Our history has been nothing but that and we don’t like it just as much as any other race but our people have lived through it and so we go quietly because we understand social physics all too well.

 

Like, Kenny - in South Park animation - when I encounter people with power issues, I think of Kenny.

 

Now, I understand why Kenny must die at the end of each episode.

Some, people...

 

Today some people were quick to make assumptions and to want to control situations and I felt tired by it.

 

I also met women who were helpful and full of information.

I met women who were genuinely kind and ready with suggestions – I respected them greatly.

I spoke to sympathetic women who understood some of my plights – I tried to understand theirs.

 

I dealt with kind men who required nothing but equal communication and exchange of ideas.

I looked into the status of the American Health Care System and wanted to urinate all over it. How is that for a strong image?

 

I filed an official complaint about the mistreatment of low-income housing women and their health care.

 

I wondered why in such a wealthy country - our American women and their bodies must suffer through the injustice of a business system that only cares about the bottom line and not the general health care of its citizens. I wondered what it would take to turn it around. I got mad and madder at the thought that I voted in the last presidential election and I’ll vote until the day I die because it’s that important and, if-it-isn’t then government will have to change for the people.

 

In the last presidential election I said to my closest friends, “I’ll vote for the lesser of two evils.” I meant it.

I did not like the alternatives but there they were and I had to vote for something – anything, with some glimpse of hope and some type of promise for a better future.

 

I saw beautiful women and their babies.

I saw beautiful women and their men.

I saw beautiful women and their hair, clothes and skin.

 

It was a day like any other day in America and now I’m on the couch with the Love of My Life watching, “Salem’s Lot.” What a life? What a life. What a life in America…so full of potential and so tragic, hopeful, sentimental, beautiful, strong, raw and crumbling. We can always rebuild to something stronger than strip malls and potholed streets. Right. Right.

 

Boundaries…

 

Gabriela

 

P.S. I meant to mention for the fall-bird-watchers at Minneapolis Parks. The sky was blue-gray at dusk and the silhouettes of the birds could’ve made for maravillosa fotografias…alas I didn’t have a camera on me and will regret it for all of time. I’ve never seen such a serene gray sky like streaks of pastel-silk ribbons in milk-chocolate con leche.

 

September 24, 2010

 

“Be polite to all, but intimate with few.”  - Thomas Jefferson

 

September 23, 2010

 

“As the Church is the aggregate of believers, there is an intimate analogy between the experience of the individual believer, and of the Church as a whole.”  - Charles Hodge

 

September 22, 2010

 

“As is known, it is in the realm of experience inaugurated by psychoanalysis that we may grasp along what imaginary lines the human organism, in the most intimate recesses of its being, manifests its capture in a symbolic dimension.” - Jacques Lacan

 

September 21, 2010

 

“Alcohol is like love. The first kiss is magic, the second is intimate, the third is routine. After that you take the girl's clothes off.”  - Raymond Chandler

 

I’ve fallen in love with almost all of Raymond Chandler’s work.

Check it.

The man did not start writing well into his forties, I think.

I’ll have to research-it again, I think he lived in L.A. with his wife and wrote mystery novels.

How quaint and what an amazing life that must have been for him.

 

Heading out.

Wishing you an amazing rest of the week.

 

Gabriela

 

September 20, 2010

 

 “There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth...not going all the way, and not starting.” (Hindu Prince Gautama Siddhartha, the founder of Buddhism, 563-483 B.C.)

 

 Part I:

A Life worth Living:

 

 I rounded a corner to a major downtown Minneapolis club scene less than a mile from 7th Street Entry.

 

 I came to a complete stop on a bike-lane where the valets were flying by – coming and going.

 

These men were athletic and beautiful to watch like a masculine ballet.

 

The light changed and traffic stood at-an-all time stand-still in all directions.

 

 By the time I left downtown it was already 2:30 A.M.

 

 I’d dropped Eric off at home and changed into outdoor gear.

 

Earlier in the evening I’d left the house for a birthday celebration in high-heels, pants, a long sleeve shirt and red lipstick. I felt powerful and tranquilla so I wore the stilts.

 

{We had an amazing time and warmly sat by a fire and spoke to complete strangers about veganism, clothes, make-up, shoes and radical self-expression. The food, the people and their considerations were warm and kind in gesture. The men wore outdoor clothing, ready for anything the weather brought them and the women wore “radical” outfits. I mean to say, they looked sexy, confident and in control yet soft, sophisticated and kind around the eyes. I could do nothing but look at the floor while I walked past them. I understood there was some serious power in that house yet serene and peaceful. As long as I held my ground I stood upon my bit of Earth and I knew that no one would purposely disturb it because they were all World Citizens. I felt that I was being held up by something stronger than myself and that no harm would come our way anytime soon as we inhaled and exhaled a gorgeous September night. The people were all so different and beautiful and the men were practical, handsome and also kind around the eyes. The men attended to the fire outside and we ate fried chicken, chips, salsa, chocolatitos and chocolate cup cakes. Beers all around, liquor that I had  no idea how to mix and wine that had radical labels on them but I couldn’t tell you what they were because I just like looking at the art.}

 

 I’d gone back home and took some time to put myself together for the following outdoor adventure that would go early into the morning. I went home and packed the following: A skateboard and helmet. H20 bottle and an extra warm pair of socks. A heavy coat, my homemade bread, two apples, a banana and a Swiss Army Knife.

 

A "hoody", a leather jacket three long sleeve shirts and my journal, a great pen, a hand bag, and a music player.

 

Phone and I.D.

 

 Mi esposo gently and lightly kissed me on the lips.

 

I kissed him back and we had all of the trust in the Universe between us.

 

“I’ll see you for breakfast.” He said to me and I smiled from ear to ear.

 

 I’m a married woman, but by no means is my master a leash.

 

 {We took sacred vows till the end of us. I believe in ethics, morals, and values of the highest spiritual form.

 

I believe that anybody can believe only what is right for them. I do not judge partnerships, because who am I to judge what is love, respect and admiration amongst perfect strangers unless people go out of their way to disturb balance, peace and order because they are insecure, afraid and malcontent.}

 

 “If you’re not lookin’ then you’re not dead.” A young woman I’ve gotten to know (over the past year and a half) and who I happen to like very much said to me while we stood outside. I’ve only met her four times in my entire life but I could freely hand over my heart to her in friendship. I could hand it over to her heart because she is truly a kindred spirit. I laughed out loud at her saying and thought it perfect.

 

 “I like to look. The people who are the greatest survivors of their environments are hot.” I wanted to say to her but I wasn’t sure if that was a weird thing to say to another woman of the world. I knew that she would have understood but I held my tongue anyway.

 

“How can I not look? You’re right. I’m not dead.” I kept smiling because I thought that she was truly funny with her long arms for limbs and I thought:

 

{This woman is so amazing I’d love for her to find herself a partner that will rock her world inside and out – a partner who has her best interest at heart for her and only for her and not what she can offer them or what she could potentially provide a partner with a lifestyle. I want her for my friend till the end of our lives. I have to go slow because we have a long journey ahead of us and even if she fails me I will be her Sam. That’s my nature with the ones I love and they aren’t many by choice. I respect the whole world of humanity and I know the stories of people but just as every other human - hopefully, understand is that when you  meet another woman – you, meet a girl in the world that you know you could tell her all of your secrets to each other and you know that your heart will be taken care of; tenderly and guarded for all of time. That’s the kind of woman she is and I am in love as in Anne of Green Gables in love like Anne Shirley and Dianna Berry’s friendship. Yes, I know… I’m old fashioned. Oh, I love a good ending to any film or story because I know all too well that suffering occurs every moment of everyday and so does she.}

 

 Anyway, I’m slow at writing the events of that night because my mind doesn’t wander it wonders.

 

I was downtown stuck in traffic by a great mistake – I took what I thought would be a short cut but I got turned around in all the one ways. I wasn’t in any real great hurry but I did want to make it back to my friend and her outdoor birthday party. I had taken a great detour earlier in the night there was something that I needed to do alone and I had done it.

 

 I had left home and headed for the 500’s on Washington Avenue and ended up turned around – like I said.

 

I’d read on FB that a DJ whose musica has only hovered over my head three times in my life was spinning in a downtown club. I’d never heard of the club until that night. I had no idea how to even enter the building with an incredible layout of partitioning.

 

 I took my 2 X 4 with me and we headed for the club. By the time I got there it was around 1:20 A.M. or so.

 

I talked to the bouncers out back. They got on my board and we all laughed about that. I asked, “Is it too late to still grab a drink?”

 

 “Come with me.” The one bouncer in charge with an Eastern European accent said to me and I followed. He grabbed all of the outdoor table umbrellas; I got around him and opened the backdoor for him. We entered the top level of a three tiered bar and not the building - he took my skateboard out of my hands and placed it behind a hostess station. “No one will touch it here.” And I believed him because everything about his demeanor said – power of strength, agility and smarts. I would not want to ____ with him under any circumstances and I knew that he was an alpha male and I liked him immediately. He had a nice clean shinny smell under a long night of working sweat and I could trust his smell a mile away. I just could – he was a decent sort of chap.

 

Quickly he made his way across the floor and led me behind a curtain where three musicians played their instruments. He turned around and left.

 

I moved to my left and sat on the top step and thought, “No, no, no. This is not a DJ. Where is the booming coming from?” I thought I could hear a heartbeat of beats coming from the walls.

 

So I went back into the bar, stood by a door and got my bearings, I went through an exit door, up some stairs and into a hallway that lead me back into the bar again. “What the hell?” I thought. It was a challenge and I had to figure out how to get to the core of the musica. I set out on foot. I went back through the curtain and down some concrete steps past the three musicians on my right and the sound man on my left and rounded the bar and stepped outside. There. I was at the side of the building.

 

 I walked out onto Washington Avenue and took a right past young people hanging out on the street.

 

I entered a bar with huge flat screen T.V.’s and dancers on the Tele with future-ristic astronaut looking outfits. The bar was positioned smack on the middle of the floor in a high ceilinged room. I ordered a drink and asked, “Where is the music coming from?” The bartender tells me it’s from the T.V.’s. “No.” I think. The T.V.’s do not hold the kind of base I’m hearing with my surround sound little ears. “Where is the music coming from?” I asked him again point blank. He mumbled something. He tells me to take a left at the door and then I didn’t hear the rest but one thing was certain I was not to take my drink with me. So I took one sip and placed the drink on the bar and let it go.

 

 I went back out to my left, up the stairs to a heavy steel-locked door directly in front of me and another to my left – I turned back around and went back to the bartender.

 

 “Where is the music coming from?” I asked him again and this time I meant business.

 

 “From outside.” He answered me and met my gaze. I trusted him as I would any stranger enough to give me directions to where I need to go especially when he’s a stranger working in any establishment.

 

 Okay, so outside, again, I went. It was a maze in there and I love it!

 

 I went outside and asked a man standing amongst his friends, “Where is the music coming from?”

 

“This door, right, here.” And he pointed at it.

 

 “You’re lovely.” I told him.

 

 I went through the door. The bouncer didn’t even look at me twice but he was kind around the eyes also.

 

 I entered and turned immediately to my right and then immediately to my left and down a long and dark stairwell lit purple. I was intrigued and totally excited because the closer I got to the musica the closer I got to being completely free in the same manner I feel while I’m on my board. Exactly, the same attitude in emotion.

 

 The base got stronger and I entered a room lit by purple-pink light. I rounded a left and then a straight long passageway past the two bathrooms to my right and entered a scene.

 

 I was mesmerized by three beautiful young women on three different platforms half-naked with beautiful athletic bodies as they danced. They, too, were like ballerinas in some rock and roll modern ballet.

 

 I wanted to gawk at their feet for rhythm and ability so I did.

 

 I meandered through the dance floor with my hands down and as soon as I saw the DJ I bowed my head as I do with anything that calls for respect in other words anybody creating something from nothing because I think about the first cavemen who figured out fire and what an extraordinary moment that must’ve been for humanity. So, when I see people creating something from nothing then I know that they, too, have had those moments of extraordinary measures.

 

 I don’t know the DJ but I like their musica. It creates movement in my body and that’s all the reality I need to know. Inspiration is difficult to come by and this artist can create inspiration in others. That’s real power.

 

 So I took my fifteen layers of sweaters off and I showed a little shoulder with laze.

 

 I liked that I had changed back into tennis shoes rather than the stilts.

 

 I danced as much as I could follow a beat and turned my back to the DJ because my energy was with me while I danced. I needed my energy for dancing and not for ____________. I loved their music so I respected it by not staring at the DJ even though that’s all that I wanted to do. I wanted to watch their hands fly.

 

 I saw couples and people being sexy, having fun and chillin’. I chilled amongst them, too, and I played. I laughed and I wanted to explore some more but the bar was about to close. Here they close all too early. It’s not like the Central American bar scene where you don’t leave the house until twelve or one in the morning and roll in around breakfast time at six.

 

 The light is getting golden this afternoon.

 

It’s time to grab my camera and head outside.

 

I’ll see you when I see you.

 

I’ll finish this blog post some other time.

 

 Much Respect.

 

 Gabriela

 

 P.S. May you be guided and intrigued enough to follow wherever the music is coming from in any public setting.

 

Cheers!

 

September 17, 2010

 

‎"There is one way to avoid criticism; never do anything, never amount to anything. Never get your head above the crowd so the jealous will notice and attack you. Criticism is a sign that your personality has some force." - Unknown

 

Yom Kippur begins at sundown.

 

“ALL IS FORGIVEN…” New beginnings and new destinies set by the Jewish God.

 

I attribute Yom Kippur as the most beautiful doctrine in spirituality and I adopted it from my adopted Midwestern and East Coast Jewish people.

 

Gabriela.

 

September 16, 2010

 

"All these boundaries - Africa, Asia, Malaysia, America - are set by men. But you don't have to look at boundaries when you are looking at a man - at the character of a man. The question is: What do you stand for? Are you a follower, or are you a leader?" - Hakeem Olajuwon

 

September 15, 2010

 

"If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world." - Francis Bacon

 

September 14, 2010

 

"It is more shameful to distrust one's friends than to be deceived by them."
- Duc de la Rochefoucauld (1613 - 1680) French writer

 

September 13, 2010

 

“In order to have an enemy, one must be somebody. One must be a force before he can be resisted by another force. A malicious enemy is better than a clumsy friend.” - Unknown

 

September 10, 2010

 

“I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you” - Friedrich Nietzsche

 

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” - Neil Gaiman

 

You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don't trust enough. - Frank Crane

 

I’m wishing you an amazing weekend and week ahead.

 

I hope that all of your friends and family “chillax” and enjoy your company as much as you enjoy theirs.

 

It’s time to take to old stomping grounds before the weather gets too cold and check on the ______.

It’s time for us to pick apples, settle in with some apple cider, a book, work and make apple pie.

We hope you have your health, sanity and joy lingering from a warm summer.

 

Cheers!

Cheers to you and yours.

Cheers to us and ours.

Cheers to carving pumpkins with loved ones and company.

 

I look forward to a week ahead.

See you the following Monday.

 

Salud.

 

Gabriela

 

Rosh Hashanah: Through nightfall of September 10

 

September 9, 2010

 

"Summer is already better, but the best is autumn. It is mature, reasonable and serious, it glows moderately and not frivolously ... It cools down, clears up, makes you reasonable ..." – Valentin

 

No blog yesterday.

I’m a day off this week.

Yippee!

 

I gave it quite the consideration yesterday.

I thought quite a bit about it.

 

I think that the destruction and down fall of humanity will come through nature.

I know this is not a new concept and it’s been portrayed in films like “12-Monkeys” and such.

 

The idea of it seems so natural a discourse yet the actuality of animals hunting down humans as prey seems horrifying.

Especially, when humans have dehumanized animals for so long - who are we to think and believe that something more powerful than us won't come along and dehumanize the entire human race? How about those tsunamis, floods and tornados?

 

We treat animals more like slaves than co-existing organisms.

I’m not on a bandwagon, I’m trying to learn and teach anyone something about the intricacies in the thought of writing.

 

I’m no scientist nor biologist but it seems to me that over generations of breeding and ignoring the needs of animals that ultimately if not their DNA then their characteristics have been altered just enough into a hostile capacity to ultimately hunt down humans for sport. Imagine if an animal hunted down a human and did not eat it? Now, that thought is horrifying. What if animals began to hunt us down for our teeth and hair? What then? Why not? I mean, humans do it. Mostly, animals hunt for food and the only animals I know that hunts for sport are humans. So what gives? Is this so far-fetched an idea that we cannot understand the grandiose gravity of humanity’s future reality?

 

Possibly my offspring someday will have to live like cavemen did and hide in caves from all endangerment and sport.

 

So with such a basic thought: Will we deserve the atrocities that could befall us someday?

Are we responsible for the horrors and the malpractices, injustices and ugliness we have bestowed upon animals?

Will the human race be responsible for the maiming and killing of animals on the face of the Earth?

 

Are we so selfish and self consumed that the animals will have no pity upon us? Will animals have a more aggressive nature when we are done with them? Will they destroy as we do? Will they learn certain characteristics and attributes to those of humans?

 

I’ve been with manatees that have had their tails chopped up like chop liver from boat rudders.

I’ve stood there before them and allowed silent tears to roll down my face.

It’s been a hopeless cause in the protest of how vehicles are mishandled and yet an awakening about animal suffering. It’s so real it left me gutted from the inside out like a strong canoe.

 

I’ve stood there and felt the immensity of their loss as any loss can be felt by any living organism.

I cried out with shame for my human race – my species.

I cried with pure hatred for the ugliness brought upon such gentle animals.

I’ve cried because for the pleasure of human sport – humans have lost their care and compassion for our brothers and sisters of the animal kingdom. I’ve cried not because I felt bad but because I’ve been so raging angry I could do nothing else but just that silently weep a few tears and let it out.

 

I’ve cried on the streets - deep and silent tears at watching a rabbit limp away from a car after having its little foot run over.

If only the driver had slowed down and swerved but of course not – he didn’t make the time because the rabbit was not important-enough to him not to take life if it isn’t necessary. The rabbit was not a human child or anything of significance to him so why make the time to slow down for a rabbit? Why would he run over a rabbit’s foot? Oh, bad luck.

 

I’ll tell you why – because anyway you look at it – the rabbit was a lesser creature to this driver. I can only imagine it must hurt to be run over by a two car when the rabbit weighed no more than maybe 5 pounds of life. In those moments of anguish and pain I was struck to the core of my humanity and I was embarrassed as a human that we don’t have more compassion for other living species.

 

The scream of anguish that came from the rabbit brought hot watered tears to my eyes and I could not bring myself to look at it because I knew the life was descending from its body because it had sustained a great deal of internal punctured wounds and trauma. I have been a witness to horrors so unimaginable I could not bring myself to touch anything. I thought, ‘I could punch someone square in the face in this moment’. I held my fists and did nothing move but stayed there for hours until the very end. I had to witness such an atrocity against life to understand some of the plight of our brothers and sisters.

 

Thank the Gods I don’t believe in violence but I believe in writing violently to create a picture of emotion.

 

I’ve never killed an animal for cruelty.

Period.

No more discussion about this.

(I’ve written in fiction classes about the killing of a cat but do not think that I know what that’s like).

LITERARY IMAGINATION!

 

I will take to hunting with bow and arrow but that is a spiritual conditioning that I will have to train for.

I will use every part of the moose’s body and I will say prayers to the Gods in my one hunt.

I will eat the heart of the moose just before it stops pumping.

I will experience the soul connection of a hunt from one living source to another.

I will take from the animal brother as he will take from me the essence of my breath as I will run for days if not weeks to hunt him.

 

I’ve sat amongst animals so greatly hurt that I thought my stomach was being gutted.

I felt that I was being carved out, hallow.

 

I try not to give up on my fellow humans.

It’s tough because the lack of respect and lack of consideration for those in the wild is so miniscule it’s ridiculous.

 

I thought about all the Manhattan beauties and their challenge with bedbugs.

My family resides in Soho and I don’t dog N.Y.C.

I’ve been frequenting N.Y.C. since I’ve been ten years of age in 1987 with my Dada.

We had relatives in Weehawken N.J.

Damn straight! Representing. I like the street style expressions.

 

My elderly Jewish great-aunt and great-uncle lived in Weehawken until they passed away just a few years ago.

If you know anything about Weehawken N.J. then you know that when the sun goes down it’s definitely a place to watch your back.

It’s a place where at the age of fourteen I could overlook Manhattan from across the river at night and dream a good dream.

It was a place that I learned to survive barking dogs and neighborhood German ladies at tea time on hot summer afternoons.

I survived plastic furniture and ceramic dog figurines which I was too nervous to handle each time.

 

I think that the bedbug incident is unfortunate anyway anyone looks at it.

It happens anywhere in the world and it does.

The difficulty with it is that the rest of the world has this “Sex in the City” ideal of Manhattan which is difficult to disassociate one from the other. Truly, I have walked the streets of Manhattan and have loved my conversations with intelligent fashionable women. So intelligent a community of women they can talk about any subject from organic vegetables to Native American spirituality and if you get them going about business, then stick around because you’ll really learn a thing or two from these fabulous women.

 

I’m surprised to have witnessed so many single and successful women residing in Manhattan. They’re a tribe of beautiful women who are left to fend for themselves it seems all alone in the world to survive – as an overall choice. It also seemed powerful and full of any if not, then all potential. It seems as though the men and women do not congregate as they do in other tribes mainly for mating and spousal purposes. Maybe, I’m wrong but it seems that they get hitched in their tribe closer to forty then they do in other tribes or not at all. In other foreign tribes if a woman has not had their first born by age fourteen, fifteen and sixteen then the women are an unwanted entity to the men of those particular sectors of culture. How lucky for the Manhattan tribe to have so many opportunities, choices and options as women.

 

I’m fascinated by Manhattan women not because I want to live amongst them nor do I want to be a part of their tribe yet I am astounded and fascinated by such a hard edge-sophistication in culture and ruthlessness yet so much compassion and skill from these women. These are women who survive NYC on a daily basis and it takes some serious cajones for that. I think they will make it through this bedbug fiasco. Also, I thought about all the beautiful clothing they would have to get rid of. There is no two ways about it with bedbugs. All fabric items must be disposed, burned or fumigated and by the time you’re through with a Channel vintage circa suit – game over. There is no more life to be considered inside that artistic manifestation. I did consider the thousands of dollars in investments and clothing these women must have to throw out. My heart went out to them. It’s taken me a decade to put a wardrobe together. I would have to mourn the loss of my clothing in a deep and sentimental way.

 

What a pity and what a shame for them to have to be dealing with such devastation and to be struck at the core of the ego.

I hope these women have burials for their vintage and contemporary designer clothes.

 

Nature is taking over and this is only what may seem like the beginning.

I’m no prophet nor do I pretend to be one.

I’m a thinker and that is what I do best and well…

The world is going to hell in a hand basket because nature’s had enough abuse.

 

So, with that said, I’ve been grinding my teeth at night and my jaw kills even now.

I’ve been lied to by several people I met this summer and that is cause for grinding.

Life is goofy.

 

Much Love,

 

Gabriela

 

September 8, 2010

 

“At every party there are two kinds of people -- those who want to go home and those who don't. The trouble is, they are usually married to each other.” Ann Landers (American Advice columnist, 1918-2002)

 

No blog yesterday.

I’m a day off this week.

Yippee!

 

I’m opinionated.

 

I (heart) Duluth, Minnesota.

 

There, I wrote it.

 

(I’m smiling. You have no idea.)

 

I feel like “Oscar the Grouch” right about now but I won’t show it.

I will tell you this I don’t love the politics of Duluth, Minnesota.

 

I think that’s rather poignant of me. No? I said it directly.

 

No, this is not a formal debate.

I’m too lazy to formulate one right now.

 

I saw an on-line article that proposed camp sites at the end of Park Point in Duluth, Minnesota.

It’s being proposed to the Duluth city council and the Duluth city council is considering it seriously.

 

A few things came to mind.

Who introduced such an environmental proposition?

Why?

And how is this to be implemented from such a ludicrous concept to a tragic reality?

Will it stay just an idea or will people give power where power is not deserved?

 

Why not think of fifty different creative ways to generate money into the city of Duluth? Open table discussion.

Is the city of Duluth so poor that they need to destroy their eco-systems in order to generate money into the city?

This could only be a sign of how poor and destitute the city of Duluth truly is to consider such an alternative.

 

What a proposition?

 

Now, I don’t believe in witch hunts, but I do believe in strongly knocking down bad ideas and even more so horrible ideas.

 

I’ve stood by most of my life and either I’ve been silent or passionate – like a light switch either the light is on or it’s off and about this particular subject matter I’m listening to what-it-is that is being proposed exactly. I’m surprised. That’s all.

 

Before I edited this blog I was vulgar in my writing and I meant each and every sentiment at the time Which I conveyed and I’m also smart enough to know that I can be wrong about how to communicate injustices across and change for the betterment of others. I’m not so selfish that I don’t know when I’m wrong and directly admit to it.

 

I will not write vulgarly about Duluth, Minnesota again for as long as I live, but I will rebuttal debate and address injustices that have way too many discrepancies and loopholes and those propositions which don’t consider long term solutions. That’s all I’m saying.

 

I care about what happens to Duluth, Minnesota just as I do Minneapolis, Boston, Gloucester, Rockport, Ipswich, Newburyport, Peabody, Salem and Haverhill Massachusetts, Connecticut and N.Y.C. as well as upstate New York, New Jersey, Sardinia, Italia, Missouri, Texas, Frankfurt Germany, Moscow Russia, Finland and Costa Rica, Heredia and along the Western Seaboard. I know people that I love intimately in these areas who are changing the world daily and I have to continue to believe in their strengths and to believe in them at large who I know well-enough to tell me that their working-on vital issues such as natural endangered environments. I believe in the people I know and love. The rest, well, I don’t know.

 

That’s it.

 

Otherwise, it’s not worth…and I wouldn’t be doing it in front of an online audience if I didn’t care to set ideas forth while learning to become better at the craft of writing – what I do have-to-do is calm my temper and discipline myself to strike a balance to become a better literary leader (I mean that term very loosely, thank you). I’ve achieved maturity before so I can achieve it again. I’m not naïve. In today’s world – anyone, can come across anything and this is a tiny little microcosm of thought. Nothing more and nothing less.

 

What do I know except that I know nothing?

 

Everything else is American apple pie, hopefully.

 

This, this proposition to set up campsites at the end of Park Point for thirty dollars a campsite seems more like a cheap trick by a prostitute than a real money making self-generating thoughtfulness and tight sealed ideas about how to leave the environment pristine without the threat of commerce taking over each time the economy threatens to collapse.

 

A smart woman on an online media forum made the comment that the traffic is already too congested on Park Point as it is and citizens pay for it ultimately. I have to agree with her brilliant statement. It’s the small things that create inspiration for people to want to continue visiting any city in the world.

 

The eco-system is fragile – but like most things of beauty they seem not worth anything until they have perished. I’m astounded that tourism is placed before the eco-environment and the locals at that I specifically mean Park Pointers have to make difficult decisions about the environment. It will come down to Park Pointer’s choice and decision if they want to allow that in their community.

 

The other brilliant thought the woman on on-line media brought up was fires.

How will the city implement a fire safety device or unit to this remote area?

 

Why make Pine Forest a danger zone and a threat to the safety of the public?

 

Wild grass fires are nothing to home and brag about - they threaten the livelihood of those who live near and by such wild grasses. Could you imagine the central hillside and downtown Duluth going up into flames? The thought makes me physically ill and I can imagine it further but I won’t entertain it because I have faith in the community of Park Point as I do in all of Duluth. Duluth cannot afford such a travesty – history teaches loss and we must learn from it as I am not to repeat it again.

 

I love Duluth, Minnesota in ways that you will never know, so I like to challenge - otherwise I wouldn’t care and I wouldn’t be here taking the time to write all of this.

 

Yes, I’m letting you know how I feel about Duluth, Minnesota.

 

It’s called a blog.

 

Get it; I get passionate about things I care most about and yes, that means a better economy and decent housing for all Duluthians. I will always have a beef with Duluth politics so long as homelessness is not eradicated and a livable wage becomes a reality for all middle class citizens of Duluth. Now, that I’ve returned to level-headed writing. Watch me become a Tica in all my glory about how I feel and greatly cherish Duluth, Minnesota. That is my home like many others that I have known intimately in the world. Please.

 

Now, as I’m concerned Duluth has a lot of history invested in its architecture. The beautiful old lapidated brick buildings tell the stories of those who came long before us and I believe in Leif Ericson and his descendants as much as I do in sunshine.

 

Maybe, the tragic thing would be for Duluth to go up in flames because some snot nosed drunken kid forgets to put out his fire before he falls asleep. Who knows? - But not unlikely?

 

I would never wish it upon anybody – only a forethought that from ripples comes waves.

 

Imagine all the people, animals and dollars the city would lose. Holy. Duluth would not recover any time soon.

 

Will  home premiums have to go up to ensure some kind of financial safety from camping traffic and traffic liability?

 

Why does it have to be Park Point when the entire north shore is full of camp sites?

 

Is this about power?

Forcing the peg to fit into the cylinder?

What gives?

 

Why set up camp sites in an old pine forest with the already fragile and endangered threat to dune grasses?

 

Now, I’m making the Catholic Cross across my chest and face.

 

Will the city be prepared to lose an old-growth forest that would most likely never grow back there again in the same manner that it’s taken the last two hundred years for it to become the fabulous beauty that she is? The area is not very large and possibly continuously threatened to become more sand if Duluthians lose that eco-system all together. Humanity cannot afford to lose trees at this rate not even in the northern tundra.

 

Will the city have a constituent plans to pay out to all Park Pointers an enhanced traffic, noise pollution and garbage fee from the rest of its city citizens for traveling through Park Point neighborhood?

 

Will the city put aside a budget for any destruction and ___________ that may occur to local residents?

 

This is serious business to consider which is being proposed. I just don’t get it.

 

Whatever Duluthians consider to do, there - I trust in them to be smart enough about the decisions they must make about commerce that could bring in billions of dollars rather than camping sites.

 

I hope that the locals (Park Pointers) and a large majority of Duluth citizens oppose such a ridiculous proposition.

 

I don’t know if people know about the dune grasses of Park Point but it’s difficult to re-plant and grow.

This is an eco-system that requires care, finesse, consideration and respect.

I replenished dune grasses along the ridges of Park Point’s slopping sands for six years and grew a deep respect for the topography of the land.

 

This is a land older than our memories of this generation.

 

A land, where Native American burial mounds are a part of its history, beauty and reverence to all that surrounds it.

 

Why are people so short-sighted and look to short term solutions?

 

I see Duluth no differently than I do Costa Rica.

 

What is there not to love?

 

My God parents, my family and my closest friends and their families live in Duluth and they know that this writing is a hobby and a brain exercise even if I have been crude and vulgar in my usage of language – I’ve become a stronger thinker which leads to better writing just like any athlete is as strong a force to reckon with as his studied because they are sculpted in ways that only beauty does show her face.

 

Since I’ve intimately met and fallen in love with the Lutherans of Kettle River - five years ago - I will try not to use offensive language for as long as I live and that will be my greatest challenge and I accept it as a writer. The Lutherans challenged me and I will challenge back only without swear words and vulgarities.

 

How splendid to be challenged by eighty-four year old women at mission guild. I’m open to any suggestions that creates better understanding. I’m humble and I’m not above brilliant suggestions made daily out of respect without gain, success and triumph but rather support.

 

I can sit here and think of fifty different ways to bring money into the city of Duluth. Maybe, someday - I’ll write about them – I’ve given it plenty of thought in the last decade alone.

 

If this proposition passes, then possibly the people who pass it will be considered eco-rapists (in my mind) for many years to come – as they should be considered that way.

 

No sane person stands by and allows for the fragile earth to be turned into a cheap trick as strong as the imagery may seem.

 

Like I said I’m opinionated.

 

I thank your Lutheran God for Freedom of Speech every day.

 

If you don’t like what I write then don’t read it (that’s one smart option).

There’s a clever idea. No? Yes. Si. Claro.

 

Mrs. Gabriela de la Holm to you.

 

P.S. Where ever you go today - may you admire the value and beauty of your natural eco-systems in your surrounding areas and local neighborhoods. My Gods, some day we may not have the luxury to look at such beauty. I shiver at the thought that my seven generations of offspring may not get to witness an old-growth forest.

 

I am a Park Pointer for life. I can’t pretend to be anything else that I’m not. I grew up in different places that I call home.

 

September 7, 2010

 

No blog.

I was chillin’ and taking care of responsibilities.

 

I haven’t had much time to reflect upon a whirlwind of a summer.

Thoughts are coming to me slowly like dripping honey from the neck of a glass bottle.

 

Yesterday, I thought about what a Writer’s Workshop calls, “Finding Your Writer’s Voice.”

I never knew exactly what that meant except that I’ve never had it until this summer as crude as it may have been.

 

My writer’s voice is harsh, at times rage-spirited and quite direct and straight forward.

It’s an emotional phase I’m going through but also an extension of the most intense aspects of my human condition.

 

For those of you who read this blog series I’m at spiritual war and I will be until sundown the day after Yom Kippur.

 

I wear red for good luck as the Chinese would have it and for the blood that women bleed as well as for the bloodshed by those who die in combat anywhere in the universe. I’m at spiritual war because for almost one year I’ve carried on my back and lived with another man’s lie. One of my closest communities thought I had wronged someone but it was this man who had wronged me with his laziness and those I loved most through lies.

 

The man is what others consider a Jew and I do not consider him a man so I do not consider him a Jew until sundown that day he will regain his humanness with me once again and I will begin to forgive and see him as a human rather than as an enemy. I have waged Mayan-Indiana Latina spiritual war and someone’s soul will shed spiritual blood for the injustices and cruelty brought upon innocent lives through lies, manipulation, cruelty, character assassination and ________ by one certain individual. What a coward to offset the harmonious balance between women of different tribes.

 

In spiritual America it seems that many people resort to many gimmicks of many types and rage and artistic spiritual war seems to be something to be afraid of but I’m here to tell you in a bias sort of way that if you don’t react to the injustices in your life then you allow for the negativity to overcome you and to hold power where power is not justified.

 

I will fight in a silent and inner most bold, direct and brutal way possible. I believe in spiritually scalping the enemy. If you’ve ever wronged the people I love then you know that we have had spiritual battles to conduct. We have spiritual ___________ and I’m not someone who backs down from a fight, figuratively speaking.

 

If you know me you know that I’m silent, calm, cool and collected and always polite.

That is my nature I’m a Taurus baby and we don’t get mad until we get raging mad.

Nothing much makes me mad except deception, lies and betrayal and cruelty – amongst other things but those are the main ones.

 

Always, I’m quite lovely, kind and considerate even thoughtful to strangers when in person and in conversation. I know who I am and I never lose sight of how I conduct myself even if it’s a challenge to dance at the off-beat of others.

 

Please understand as a reader that I’m not a commercial, a sitcom or a novel.

 

This is my life and I’m trying to conduct it in the most respectful manner possible, but I also have a mouth on me that I only use through the written word. I am violent in these pages because like any comic book writer, graphic novelist and any artist of any kind – we must find an outlet for our pent up aggression, disappointments, control, manipulation and injustices.

 

I’m pure of heart. I’ve never fist fought anyone, crippled someone to the core, but I have made mistakes and great ones especially in my twenties when I was starved for food (literally) and no one who knew at that time gave a damn whether I lived or died. I kept it hidden as a dark secret from my family, closest friends and former class mates.

 

I know what it’s like to be ignored, minimized and marginalized in America. I know what it’s like to sacrifice your artistic soul in America. I also know hard workers, givers and creators in America and because of them I found it worth it to get up from the snow one cold miserable night and humbled myself to ask a friend to make use of their summer home. I thought about silently perishing into the snow but obviously it wasn’t my time. It wasn’t that - I wasn’t humble-enough to ask my best friend for help, it was that I could barely return to the bedroom that I knew to be her sisters. There are different types of pain that is for sure.

 

This blog’s purpose is not to entertain you, but to get you to consider an alternative to thinking, feeling, being.

 

Hopefully, you’ll get a little angry and possibly outraged with my “Writer’s Voice” and that way you have been motivated to the core to think independently outside of some mainstream bubble of information.

 

I’m willing to speak boldly, directly and take (hopefully what all intelligent people know to be) constructive criticism from any intelligent human anything other than that is simply either a joke or cruelty for the sake of it.

 

I will change my mind if a logical, reasonable and thoughtful argument comes along my way. I’ve made a pact with the Gods (and that’s none of your business) but I have decided that on my time here on Earth (while in my company) no human, animal or organism will be bullied and taken advantage of.

 

I don’t give a damn how sweet natured you may come across or how you’ve manipulated others to think of you as saintly, but I can pick out a poser of human a mile away (and by that I mean someone who doesn’t contribute to something greater than themselves). The sweeter ones are the most dangerous people I believe because they buy into buying an image, a look, a sentiment and an overall consensus and they march to beat that will only keep up with some warped ideal of “keeping up with the Jones’s”. What is that anyway?

 

I’m powerful as-it-is-as any human woman ever could be in her time and era.

 

I do believe that I could create destruction so severe that I would have to live with the ramifications of my actions and I’m not willing to take that kind of responsibility on. I’m too lazy anyways for rituals except for morning prayers to the light of day and the Gods for sending us yet another opportunity to live each and every day. I keep my hands away from any knowledgeable magic and look to the organic to guide me and lead me as an instrument of Humanness. I’m not perfect I get mad and then ‘let’s eat spaghetti’ and continue to discuss world issues at top volume until we become exhausted and happy from fullness.

 

If you’ve ever met me and you are causing injustices upon a “weaker” human I will rip your metaphorical throat out with a stare and through kindness because what can’t, you kill with kindness? It’s not my Indiana people’s saying but the ‘white man’s’ religion and saying, “Kill them with kindness” and that’s just what I mean to do.

 

I let conflict drop quite easily and fast because seriously I get restless about conflict and want to run as quickly as possible as well as I’m lazy brained if I don’t want to have to think too hard. I’d rather go on to other more constructive means of operation. I like construction, function and design with a purpose for betterment. I like many things – I even love many things but I also hate and I hate with all the passion, strength and ability of love I can muster inside my little body.

 

That is not dangerous - that is realistic and I’ve grown to control a silent rage but it doesn’t mean that I don’t breathe that hatred unto the universe when it’s called for.

 

I’m no Buddhist, shaman, leader, medicine person, healer or priest. I’m a grown woman in the world and I do not pretend away the suffering of the world. Nor do I contribute to it through the physical realm. I’m very careful about what I put out unto the world, what I create and what I breathe. I’m too intelligent not to be considerate of such delicate matters. I will try not to write when I’m angry. Let it simmer and come back to a wonderful dish of diced tomatoes, zucchini and cheese mushrooms. My mouth just watered.

 

I can only imagine that for those of you who make it a point to come to this blog daily that my “Writer’s Voice” most likely has turned you off at many points on this literary journey – It has turned me off as well. I want to be productive not angry. It’s not worth my life.

 

“Good.” I’d have to say to anyone. If you met me in person you’d know that I’m NOT sweet as pie but rather real and thoughtful more like black rice and beans then a custard desert. I’m considerate and I will take what you say into the greatest realm of consideration and respect. I owe people that much. I am human. I make mistakes and yet I try to be as humble and considerate and as kind as I can be without having my boundaries crossed and I get be grouchy as hell all of my most intimate friends know this about me and because they forgive it so can I.

 

I’ve experienced many dense and complex aspects of life since May 2010, alone.

 

Perhaps I have found a harsh writing voice because I’m testing the waters.

Perhaps, it has to do with inner conflict and loss.

We’ve lost several close family members in the last three months alone.

 

We also had a miscarriage in May (another blog for another day so you can learn about women’s health).

Yes, adults address such topics as these out in the open. Not a big deal. We’re all grown adults here.

Now, I’m not going to get sentimental on paper nor do I need sympathy from complete strangers and readers. I have a great intimate and close support system, thank you.

 

But that is the reality of my “Writer’s Voice” at this particular time in my life.

 

Nevertheless, the loss of life is there.

I’m real.

I’m human and I bleed and yes I cry, too, at times but never in front of others unless I’m truly moved to do so.

 

I’d rather not cry. However, it happens.

 

What’s the point of crying? I don’t know, I’m just learning to cry in my thirties.

No other human can lessen our inner suffering except ourselves so I always put crying off and tomorrow did come – here it is.

 

So, I’ve taken to staring at people like staring at an arbitrary piece of a puzzle and trying to figure out where it all fits in the scope of a larger picture much larger and more meaningful than just the one individual.

 

Yes, I have a home.

 

I have close friends and family.

I have resources available to me as any adult does.

 

It could all disappear tomorrow but the thing is this – today, is today - for now. The thing is I like to come in and out of places unnoticed. I like being a shadow on the wall. I don’t need to blog about me per say, because I know my life but I make myself an example of human thinking because I do need to make sense of this world.

 

I want to learn by staring – not by starring. I’m not a thespian and I don’t want to be up on stage I’m too old for that, personally.

 

There are far more important and larger things than myself or – you - for that matter. I like to think that I’m, that - humble because I do not wish for the Gods to strike me down even if my writing voice sounds strict, at times judgmental and disappointing – (well, it’s not when its written full of laughter).

 

Yet, inside my chest I feel as large as morning light, lightening, thunder bolts, crashing waves and pineapples.

 

My Gods are sustainable and organic matter.

 

That’s something that I can truly believe in something that will nourish life. The Gods present themselves to us in the most mundane of ways yet they are as powerful and as righteous as any Gods of any civilizations can be. If we survive as the human race can at the rate we’re polluting nature, environments and the economical disparity it will be because the Gods wish it so (as funny as that may sound), not because we actually think we’re smart enough to survive on our own.

 

I have to believe that the Gods exit because I do not trust my fellow humans to get us out of this mess, completely alone.

 

We need scientists, artists, independent thinkers, makers and shakers in the next century to move us out of our dark age.

 

Imagine what else is coming due to over-population and insane waste, over production and greedy corporate leader that hinder the world rather than contribute to it in a natural, self-sustainable and self-sufficient recycled materials and goods. Bed bugs, it’s our own waste, over population and crowded spaces that will bring forth 15th century diseases and plague. That should not be happening in this day in modern age especially when the urbanites of NYC have so many resources and money available to them. Need say more? Is right.

 

What a pity.

I’ve got some welding to do and a time lapse to capture.

 

Ciao.

 

Gabriela

 

P.S. I put my name at the bottom of my blogs because I’m no coward. I stand by every word I write.

I’m a warrior at this time in my life and no I’m not budging in my convictions until some better thoughts come along.

 

September 6, 2010

 

"Truly great friends are hard to find, difficult to leave, and impossible to forget.” – Unknown

 

I’ll come back to this quote later.

 

I’m going to go walk my neighborhood and see what’s around.

I haven’t hung out in my neighborhood in ninety days.

 

The first time was Saturday night at an artistic institution.

I’d never been in such a facility before.

It was state of the art, gorgeous, amazing space.

 

I felt as though I had come home once again.

I live six blocks away from the space and I’d never so much as stepped foot in there.

Incredible how sometimes we miss out on the beauty of our own neighborhoods.

 

I’m so excited to be back home again.

 

I feel like I can breathe and prepare to hibernate for a long winter ahead.

 

We are about to begin the digitizing phase of  the creative non-linear post process.

 

Hopefully, by the end of October all of our footage will be archived, labeled in hundreds of folders inside bins and after that is done then we begin to storyboard and conceptualize our storyline for our following feature. We will cut all the way into January and into the month of February hopefully we’ll head into a semi-final cut by the end of March. From there we’ll have to finalize the film, title it, build graphics for the intro and rolling credits, create a five minute trailer. By the end 2011 we’ll premiere so that we can be eligible to enter the world film festival circuit and then we go back to one. Back to the drawing board.

 

We start shooting next year’s film and the process will start all over again.

 

My deadlines are arbitrary to others but I do try to put myself back to work when the school children go back to school.

 

Otherwise, I believe I will sit around eating apricots, mango and blueberries while watching movies and nothing will get done.

 

Or at least I think that and that’s enough to get me off my ___ and get organized and spearhead, direct, listening and going with the flow of our two editors who are rock stars on their own. They do so much with our low-budget well crafted professional feature length documentaries that I look to them as my beacons of hope to become a better filmmaker. These are editors who never complain that we are not Hollywood but rather creative types who seek out truth in the world and will lend a helping hand and smart creative thoughts on the table because they realize the worth of the content.

 

These are respectful editors, engineers and geeks.

People-geeks who always know the pure value of something even if it’s torn, broken and out of season.

 

I love that in people.

 

Cheers.

 

Gabriela

 

September 3, 2010

 

No blog.

I was too bloody tired.

 

I will write about an incredible artist whose musica moves me to the core.

Wait until I’ve had a little more sleep…

 

The last week of my apprenticeship I pulled not only all nighters or went with very little sleep to finish my steel project.

 

I went dancing for the first time on Friday - exactly one year ago this past weekend.

 

The artist’s music hovered over my head and I was so ecstatic that I felt as though I was hovering over the room.

 

No, I wasn’t on drugs. I can’t imagine that experience on drugs. It would’ve of been so intense I don’t think I would’ve wanted to handle it in that state of mind. I like comfort and this artist’s musica brings just that out in me. I drank half of something called “captain coke” and snuck out to hear the musica from the outside, but no go – the venue has thick glass and obviously well insulated brick walls (silly me - I thought I was going to be able to hear the musica from around a corner and outside).

 

I heard music escape from an open window from an upstairs private party at what seemed like a dance studio.

 

I quietly sat, texted and listened to music coming out a 2nd floor window by a set of dumpsters. I sat comfortably on a high stool and watched men pee. They asked if it was okay and I gestured to go ahead. It was a lovely night and not a single soul was out there except the men taking turns urinating peacefully and I looked away to give them their space.

 

I rested my feet – they were killing me after many hours of welding. Welding is rather physical.

 

Eventually after an hour I got up, went over and opened a heavy steel door and walked up a five foot wide staircase. I walked into a modest dance studio. I danced until the DJ made it clear that it was time to go at two in the morning with the following,

“If you don’t know ______’s middle name then it’s time to go.”

 

I got the hint.

Immediately and gracefully yet quickly I b-lined it for the door.

I didn’t want a scene.

I just wanted to see the upstairs architecture and get a little dancing in. Why not? Pura Vida. To the Good Life.

 

I’ve been looking at buildings all over Minneapolis.

We want to buy something but the process seems as though it will be a long, tedious and exciting process.

So, I have much homework, knowledge and wisdom to gather in the next two years or so.

I know specifically what I’m looking for and at what cost but I am also picky when it comes to violent crime in any city.

I pay taxes and I abide by all laws.

 

It’ll take us the next decade to buy a warehouse or a set of warehouses to make a film lot - studio so we can film at all hours of the day and night. I look forward to creating something obviously a lot larger than myself. So, for now I go around asking about the architecture of buildings, the history and the potential. Every film studio executive has to start some place. This is the place where I’m at and no amount of ____________ will convince me to go any faster than a turtle’s pace.

 

The challenge will be to find not only the right place but a place that will house an “open door policy” kitchen for preparing organic/vegan produce to live-in-residential artists, a hydroponic greenhouse on the south side of the roof, a darkroom, several editing suites, a chill room, a music room, several live in resident live-in quarters, offices and of course last but not least a tiny broom closet - dark and quiet - room like a sound booth for me to go and sit, write, gather ideas and hear myself think. A place where we can go off the grid and generate our own power, electricity and water along with solar panels. What a dream!

 

If you know me, then you know that my dreams are very real – because I was brought up to believe that I could achieve anything with patience, resources and long term range for generations to come. It’s not about my life in a lifetime career, per say rather creating something idealistic for the betterment of our future just as Disney thought about “Tomorrow Land”. I only hope that I have half as many brilliant thoughts as he did in my lifetime as I’m keeping notes on ideas and thoughts. That’s it. How geeky is that? More paper, please.

 

I make my dreams happen one way or another – because when I’m ready my friends will be behind my ideas any way possible they know how to for one reason and one reason only I think through ideas for at least one complete decade at a time before I make a ‘woman’s move’ – I was recently told that a man kind around the eyes and I trusted him enough to tag along whimsically through my own city which I haven’t taken the time to frequent as much in the last two years. What happened to the excitement of my everyday neighborhood? I’ve got to find that again.

 

It may take me a long time to make many decisions about anything but once I make them I never look back.

 

Once I make a decision, I’m confident, stable, solid, fierce – (no matter how much criticism there may be involved) but more importantly I am bold, direct, without fear, with cajones, vision, function and I am building my own fortune because I will not be able to live owned by a corporation. The rules about a high quality of life have to be changed like working from home. Who doesn’t want that in this modern age. We’re responsible intelligent humans who can discuss anything with anyone on the phase of the globe at any moment. Technology did take us thus far. To preserver is to work and play hard and to earn every penny through your capable intelligent wit. I will be able to reflect back on this time as I have about the last decade: “It was completely and totally worth the journey.”

 

I arrived at this point - didn’t I?

 

I’m alive with food on my table and a roof over my head. It’s that simple for me – everything else is apple pie.

I think that my buddies at the orphanage would be proud of this intersection in life’s journey.

 

I wish I could meet them here - again and have a hot home-cooked meal together after so many years of struggle in a third world orphanage. We were little kids with rock star attitudes. We were somebody already by the age of six. We were tough with a million and one dreams and we knew - anything - was possible because we had come from the gutter and we knew what we were. We did not make excuses nor pretend otherwise. Those were some of my best friends that I knew they had my back fully. I would’ve lived and died by them. I saw them leave the orphanage one by one and at last after four years I was adopted along with my sister. I was ten and awkward, shy and definitely not in the mood. This is the reason why I don’t… We made it through war, loss, cultural penetration, missing parents, hunger of the deepest anguish, getting beaten  and real destitution and suffering of unimaginable proportions. You’ll never know and I hope you don’t.

 

If you don’t know then you don’t know that reality and I hope you never do.

That’s the reason why nothing scares me. I like festivals where people wear masks it portrays the “otherness” on life.

I already lived through it once. So dreaming of a film studio here in Minneapolis with MY ideals is nothing to me.

That’s a cake walk compared to many other things going on in the world… I’ve been thinking about a global… (Another blog for another day).

 

The crowd on Friday night was an all lesbian beautiful group of women with hot and sweaty dancing bodies – that’s my descriptor of what I saw.

 

I loved looking at people’s feet while they dance to follow their timing and rhythm.

I still can’t count to anything worth making a beat.

I found myself staring too closely sometimes – I’ve caught people staring back at me staring at their feet.

I get shy and I can’t help but want to stare like a curious little “monkey” – I preserve this saying amongst my closest friends and we throw our heads back and roar with laughter.

 

I really want to know what dancers’ feet are doing so I stare at their motion. What else is there to do but appreciate.

 

A year has gone by and we all have our health and our adventurous spirits are still yet intact.

 

I welded for close to sixteen hours some days in the last week of my apprenticeship.

My body is soar and happy.

 

I’ve only welded flowers and girly things up till now, but in the last week I actually had to weld a frame to the back of a bed truck.

 

It has to hold up and serve a function so I am proud of that. I’ll go back to the flowers some other time. I would like to someday learn to scuba dive and become an underwater welder. I think that... So many dreams. We’ll see how they develop over the next twenty years. Hunting with bow and arrow is up next, then shooting a gun and flying a plane. I want to learn to weld a plane frame – I don’t so much want to be a pilot but I find it important to get my pilot’s license and travel through deserts, mountains, oceans, and jungles at my disposal. I think I will, someday. If only I had more time in life. Ayee. I’m going to learn how to weld, bend and manipulate steal and make armor first before a plane frame. Could you imagine welding any WWII aircraft of any type to see if metal still holds up to new materials. I'm a huge believer of the steel industry. I'm a middle class gal, what can I say? Wow. Ambitions, I like them because my brain thinks too quickly and requires hands on to really understand intricacies of how everything is interconnected in the universe – from theorems to embroidery if that’s what you’re into otherwise it can be perceived as arbitrary and learning never is arbitrary from my humble opinion from somebody who learned to read at ten and fell in love with words immediately as I saw them on the page – English foreign words.

 

Gabriela

 

September 2, 2010

 

No blog.

I was too tired.

 

I got stood up by a little boy who pretended to be a man.

 

‘Dude’, seems to be the appropriate term, here.

 

It’s been sixteen years since I’ve been stood up. I know exactly what to make of it…

 

I made great conversation with a bouncer to some private club while I waited for the morning light to come so that I could take off and do morning photography.

 

I texted the bouncer the next day: “F.Y.I. I DO NOT WANT TO GO IN.”

 

I just wanted to skate their bloody amazing parking lot without having to make small talk with people _______________.

I wasn’t fishing to be invited-in; I was already there this summer and it was an experience of a life time but not one that I care to do for the rest of my life; maybe ever again. There’s no reason, really. It was a terrific “Alice in Wonderland” falling down the rabbit hole - type of moment but alas, not my destiny.

 

It was okay. It was fine as far as private clubs go. One is like another – “tranquillo”.

 

If I truly wanted to go in I’d had the staff at the door beckon the owner and I’d spoken directly with him, myself.

I’m not shy and I taught to exactly and directly ask for what I need and may want but that’s rare -  I take care of my needs even if I’m being lazy at times.

 

Please. Adults, here.

 

I’ve been in places up and down the Eastern Sea Board that people…but fun to contemplate as a thinker. I don’t front. It is what it is. Nothing more and nothing less.

 

It’s been my lot in life. Mainly, impromptu-ed life decisions to leave places and go to other places and there I continue to meet with people every time I decide to leave some place as soon as I arrive. I couldn’t make this stuff up even if I wanted to. We meet strangers everywhere. Right? Right.

 

It’s best to be well connected than known – I think. I’d rather know my closest friends for who they really are and be known for who I am to a few people than to lots of strangers.

 

I know my worth and I know the people that I love and it’s a lot.

 

I am a force to be reckoned with even if I say nothing.

 

I know the type of intrinsic power that I have so it’s best for me to always be polite even though it’s clear that you messed up because you’re immature, insecure and even with “white lady” all over your face, I still can find it in me to think _____________, _____________________, _______________, ___________, and _____________.

 

I made my own fun and had a blast with the bouncer.

The bouncer stepped back inside and came back out with a light beer.

It was such a sweet gesture on his part.

 

A considerate and generous gesture which I would’ve granted him as well in my neck of the woods we offer drink to travelers. It’s a great gesture of respect in hot regions where a drink can mean the difference between life and death.

 

A gesture that you’d find in the most private of country clubs and golf courses across the world. Like I’ve said before I am extremely well connected from third world gutter punk Peter Pan kids to the world-bank not because I need or want anything from anyone but because the world is this connected now with the power and educational tools of the internet. The world got really tiny so we have to be very real about who we are and where we come from. You can research anything now in a matter of seconds and that is power in your hand. You can “Google” my name and find out at least one fact about me and that is amazing. It wasn’t like that fifteen years ago.

 

My Dada always said, “You never know who you’re going to meet so be ready to lend a helping hand and to always be polite.” Unfortunately, I’d felt awkward with strangers. The more insecure I became the more I tripped over my shoes and dropped things, spoke continuously or none at all, and living through the pain of talking for the sake of talking.

 

The bouncer spoke about going through some custody battle with his child and my heart truly went out to him while he spoke so tenderly of his suffering.

 

I sneaked around corners like a white cat on a dark night and I wanted to be left alone to explore unless the company was tremendously thoughtful of everyone otherwise, solo was in store for that night.

 

I don’t need to be entertained and I most certainly don’t want to have to entertain simply co-exist.

I take liberties with the world because I’m a world citizen and the entire world is my home.

 

I go where I please at any time of day or night that’s the kind of freedom I have as a married woman and no, my… is not hanging out and flapping in the wind either. I’m controlled, thoughtful and someone worth sitting down and speaking to – not because I think I’m amazing but because my friends seem to come to me when they need to be creatively challenged to think quite differently from what they were taught to be truths about their lives in relationship to their upbringing.

 

I don’t wear white lady around my nose as a fashion statement.

 

I wear my heart on my sleeve, I’m passionate and I don’t give a… about…, because they’ve made their beds and we all know what that looks like. I understand about freedoms and decisions, but sometimes people are so transparent and full of suffering beyond our capabilities that it’s easy to see that their greater contributions are lesser than the air they breathe. It’s obvious that their contributions as humans are to be born, poop, snort and die. Why? No contributions being made – there, not even much of an organic one.

 

I didn’t starve as a child to beg, borrow or steal anything as an adult much less to be granted access into any club, I’d rather be in the woods.

 

I’ve got too much to explore to beg, borrow and steal. I’m a classy woman. I’ve never begged or stole even in childhood while I starved - at times. I knew what mangos, avocates y wisperos were from an early age and I would climb tress for my food as most Indian kids were taught to do. What else is there in the seventies, but natural resources? Hopefully for those who live closest to and near jungle forests when there are no other resources for food but just that.

 

I’m just a ‘girl’ in the world trying to make sense of all this.

 

I’m a woman who is spoken for by only one man and that man is my husband soundly asleep one room over.

 

The older I get the less power I look for in others and the more power I self generate because I believe in something greater than my own ability, face and beauty. I have ‘great expectations’ of humanity more so than I would for Victorians by the study of it . What else is there? Maybe, if I would’ve never left the rain cloud forest then I would’ve never written any of this. Destiny is a funny thing, isn’t it?

 

The Gods are watching out. I like that aspect of some type if theological belief.

 

Gabriela

 

September 1, 2010

 

No blog.

I was too tired.

 

I constructed and welded a frame to a bed truck.

Cutting metal is one of my five favorite things to do in the entire world.

1. _______________________

2. _______________________

3. Cutting Metal

4. _______________________

5. _______________________

 

I stayed up and when the rains came real hard I said prayers to the Gods in an empty warehouse.

I ran outside to the work station and got the welder out of a monsoon rains and all other electrical cords.

I took refuge in a large warehouse building, made coffee that my friends had left behind, ran back out to the welding station at one in the morning, took refuge on a bus with the rooster and fell asleep. Woke up at six in the morning and started welding again before anyone showed up by ten.

 

It was a rock star bloody experience.

 

I had the run of the facility for an entire night. What is there not to like working in a space that is someone else’s. That’s why I carry a journal around with me.

 

It felt like having the run-of-the-dark room at the University.

I used to stay there all night and develop photos - for two years I did this - and I was completely happy in the dark by myself.

It felt like I was inside a womb-affect being in that darkroom without a soul around at three in the morning.

 

The building was so quiet I could hear myself think.

 

Gabriela

 

 

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