Dragonfly's Delirium

2010-01-24T18:53:00.000-08:00

Currently: wishing I could self-adjust my head.

Mood: alright…

Spoken Manifestation

Today, of all days, I shared the existence of my long abandoned BlogSpot to a person, during conversation. Note: All I did was mentioned it; that was all I did: nothing more, nothing less.

Little did I know that putting my, loosely introduced, subject into the airwaves of the Universe was sufficient enough for a visitor (to my Blogspot) to compose a comment to an old entry I had posted, oh, so long ago, about The Sundays. (Back when my mind had plenty of food for thought and inspiration hungry for it.)

“Peter said:”-read the name of the unknown visitor, whose comment was about to change the night. This Peter…- Peter, who? I thought for a fraction of a second but a fraction of second later the identity of this “Peter” did not matter at all, for the connection between spoken words, the universe, and the power of manifestation were of merely of greater importance to me- sparked a series of motion that unraveled the following actions- again, in less than a fraction of a second, of which I have kindly enumerated for easier reference:

1. Read e-mail, found comment.

2. Opened new tab, typed Blogger address. Tried as hard as possible to remember my own BlogSpot space- missed the first time, freaked out thinking I had completely forgotten the name to my own blog since it had been so long since I last logged in- realized that I knew the name and that I had simply erroneously typed the address wrong.

3. Entered my username- now by inertia- and password and got it right (the first time).

4. Searched for the post to be moderated and found it.

5. Clicked on the post, read it, published it.

6. Went back to my Blogspot, scrolled down. Saw all the good looking men I had chosen as my “beaus” in an earlier post, a million years ago, and realized that they were still hot and therefore still part of that list.

7. Found my “Sundays” entry and wondered if I’d ever see Harriet again and missed her more than ever.

8. Found post by “Peter,” clicked on it.

9. Read message.

…And...

10. Wondered, for a second, who this “Peter” person was; however, I wanted more to focus on reading the actually message instead.

The message was short, clear, and concise. It was a small, magnificent, and brilliant declaration that brought me so much joy. This “Peter” person had used my Blogspot to proclaim The Sundays a brilliant and unique band! Capital!

So to “Peter,” with all due honor I say:

Dear “Peter” Sir (or Ma’am) - these days one can never be too sure:

Thank you, I commend you for your commitment and loyalty to the Sundays, for your little comment has gotten me writing again! That alone should say a lot, since the last time I posted and entry was almost 2 years ago!

With that said,

Que vivan los Pete’s and The Sundays!

2008-07-17T20:19:00.000-07:00

My Newest Infatuation: Aidan Gillen

Before catching my eye in the movie Shangai Nights, movie I saw two days ago for 12th time, I'm sure, I really didn't know much about Aidan Gillen. I'm actually amazed at the fact that I didn't notice him before this time, after all the movie has been out for some time now.

2008-05-25T22:21:00.000-07:00

[Currently: Thinking oh, these boys, boys, boys...]

[Mood: fine. Don't ask!]

Oh my...Adonis!

There really isn't any real reason for this post other than I began to conceive the idea of it after googling Keira Knightley and Rupert Friend. Well, actually, it all began as I was trying to find a picture of James McAvoy- my latest infatuation- which began after watching The Chronicles of Narnia once again last night. Since I initially could not remember his name, but remembered him starring in a movie with Keira about two sisters-of which I couldn't recall the title of the movie either- I decided to, under Keira's name search, find James' by using IMBD, the internet movie database website.

That's when my ADD kicked in and I got all sidetracked with Rupert's beauty and the news (most probably old news to the world around me) that he and Keira were dating! (Yeah, notice the exclamation point I've used to show astonishment.) So intrigued by the images of the two, the headlines, etc. I continued to Google their names until all my questions were answered (I had two to be exact):

Is Keira, in fact, dating Rupert? Yes

Are they getting married? Yes

Ok, so I finally found a picture of Keira and James and immediately thought how incredibly handsome James McAvoy truly is. I am absolutely entralled by his semblance and his piercing blue eyes; he possesses a rare kind of beauty not usually found in other male actors.

Once I had his name, I began Google his name for images of him. I wanted to discover what exactly adored me about him. So I found one of his pictures- actually, the one I have in this post- and begain to look at it with profound eyes. In the end, I decided that aside his talented nature, what i enjoyed the most about him were his eyes; his big beautiful eyes.

That's how the list was born. As I looked at James' various attributes, I began to think about all the other "Beaus" I adored.

A list began to populate in my head and before I knew it, I had thought about several actors...Here's the list:

BEAU ADONIS(liscious)!

Johnny Depp

(Not in any particular order other than in the case of Johnny Depp; he will be forever my number one. All who know me know how much I adore this man, that's why I will not write anything about him here. And anyway, hasn't it all been written about him already? He is the Man and that is a fact!)

James McAvoy- Go figure! The first time I noticed James was in the movie The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, in which he played a faun, Mr. Tumnus. Those eyes blue eyes was all it took scoop me up; I have been smitten by him ever since.

Thomas Kretschmann- Woa! Are all Germans hot? In the film The Pianist, Thomas played the role of a German soldier who helps a Jewish pianist survive the war. His role in the film was small but his impact on the screen, as all of us who loved it can testify, was unforgettable!

Gerald Butler- Oh, Gerald...What a fine piece of human anatomy you are! He drives me crazy!! And it didn't help that he was in the movie 300 because even with the dark hair, tanned skin and barbarous behaviour, he he still blew my mind to smithereens! The first time I noticed Gerald was in the 2004 movie Dear Frankie in which he played a stranger hired by a woman to pose as her son's father. He was so incredibly good looking in that film, every time he smoked a cigarette (in the movie) I could literally smell the smoke! (and I hate smokers!!!!)

Christian Bale- Interestingly enough, I discovered that Gerald's favorite actor is Christian Bale. And why wouldn't he be? Besides the fact that he was born on a very special date (January 30th), he is also one of the most versatile actors I know, something I very much admire in an actor. The first time I beheld him was in the film American Psycho. (Hey, and for the record, I'm also a 100% "Balehead." )

Now I travel all the way down to the home of burritos and tacos for my next favorite actor.

Gael Garcia Bernal- One of the best contemporary actors Mexico has ever produced. No wonder Pedro Almodovar, who happens to be my favorite director, let alone one of most acclaimed foreign filmmakers of our times, set his eyes on Gael to play one of the characters on his film "Mala Education," a film based on the stories of two boys who were sexually abused in a Christian school. Gael's performance was not only incredible but his Spanish accent was also very convincing and exceptional. I first dreamed about those juicy lips in the film Amores Perros.

And on to my favorite Darcy's...I have two:

Colin Firth and Matthew Macfadyden- Much has been said about Colin so I will not bore anyone by sharing my thoughts about him in this post. We all know he is the best actor to ever personify Mr. Darcy and one of the few actors we don't mind watching over and over again playing the same role. Example: Pride and Prejudice, Bridget Jone's Diary, Love Actually...

Matthew, the newest version of Darcy, managed to successfully revive the magic instilled in us by Colin, the Master Darcy, in the early versions of Pride and Prejudice. The first time I set eyes on those beautiful green eyes was in the foreign film My Father's Den, filmed in 2004.

Brandon Flowers- And on into the musical spectrum of postt...Behold the statement: In my book, Brandon Flowers (The Killers), along with Chris Martin (Coldplay), possess one of the most original voices in the industry.

Talent, nice vocals and breathtakingly good looks...now that's why I love Brandon Flowers!

D'fly

P.S. If I forgot you, please accept my deepest apologies.

2008-05-19T18:56:00.000-07:00

[Currently: with a huge headache]

[Mood: peaceful]

The Quote of the Day! Oh, and what a quote!

Isn't every day a chance to learn something new? Well, today, I did. I was given tickets to see an advance screening of Kung -Fu Panda when I heard this enlightening quote:

"The past is history; The future is a mystery; This moment is a gift; That is why this moment is called the present; Enjoy it."

Through research, I discovered the quote was made by Allan Johnson. Of course, that doesn't tell me much because there are only 5,000 Allan Johnson's to choose from on the net but at least I can give this man credit where it's due. So, to THE "Allan Johnson" thanks for this so-true quote.

D'fly

2008-05-17T14:59:00.000-07:00

[Currently: looking out into my beautiful backyard]

[Mood: do I really have to catalogue it?]

...why are then Saturdays so alive?

Contrary to the general feeling of boredom, brought in by Sundays; Saturdays always seem to be a bit more of an active day. To be more precise, Saturdays are usually regarded as the "go-do-day." People go and do everything they can to squeeze (like lemonade) the mere second, of every minute, of every hour on a Saturday day. They go shopping, to the park, to the beach, to a birthday party, to a wedding, to get married, to get their cars washed, to go grocery shopping, to go play sports...the list goes on and on.

But one can't help it. For the most part, Saturdays are the most beautiful day of the week. The sky is usually painted in the prettiest hue of blue, with fluffy, playful clouds; the ones that are usually too high to create any trouble, but visible enough to entertain a child with silly figures. And that's not all, since early in the morning, garage sale signs begin to pop like flowers, in every corner of every neighborhood, ready for busy "Bees" eager to catch the deal of the day- Hey, I count myself as being one of those "Bees."

Do, do, do...Go, go, go...there is always so much do to and so many places to go to, no wonder Sundays are usually so boring!

p.s.

Today Saturday, however, I'm not in the mood for lemonade. Today, I prefer something less troubling: mother nature's juice will do just fine for me. Yeah...I'm just chilling. There is no squeezing from my part today. *winks*

2008-05-16T22:10:00.000-07:00

[Currently: deciding how to compose this post about

Harriet...]

[Mood: happy]

Early morning: It is The Sundays (as usual)

And once again, in the early morning fold, my soul and memory claim for her. My dearest Harriet, my siren and muse, I miss you; I miss you so deeply... It seems to me that this urge or inclination, per se, to search for any news (on her) engulfs my entire being every 2 or 3 months. It is always during late hours of the night and always Googled with the same key words: Harriet Wheeler, The Sundays, Harriet and David...and every 2 or 3 months my Google searches come back emptly from any new information that could lead me to her whereabouts.

Complete haitus? How could it be possible? I mean, how could the only living "Siren" our world has had the pleasure of fostering could continue to elude being seen or heard by anyone? It is thought I can't bring myself to conceive (in any shape or form), but it is a reality I live with (and have been living with) for quite some time now.

But tonight my search wasn't a total repetitive waste. Through the course of my search- I modified the search to "Harriet Wheeler 2008" (2008 in quotes to ensure accuracy) instead of my usual "Harriet Wheeler" by itself- I came across the blog of Mephisto-Phil-ese in which he asked the exact same question I had: "Harriet, Where Are You?"

The post was deep and heartfelt and full of the same sentiments that lead my thoughts whenever I think of Harriet. He loves her; he misses her; he also wonders if she'll ever come back. Yep- like I said: my same exact thoughts.

Will you ever come back, Harriet? Will you...? To Mephisto-Phil-ese, I left a little message he has to review before posting. Hopefully, he will reply to it and together we could share our memories of the most beautiful being music has ever known!

D'fly

2007-12-15T19:28:00.001-08:00

Five Months in a Flash...

July- Vacation, vacation, vacation to paradise.

Agosto-Birthdays, birthdays, birthdays...

Septiembre- Work, work, double work and double work...

Octubre- Big joy of my life: Can I say five?

November- a few downfalls along the path, but nothing strong enough to keep me down forever...

December- 3 more days and I'll be off again!

D'fly

2007-07-04T22:38:00.000-07:00

Venus got Mooned!

Moon passing in front of Venus. What a beautiful and celestial sight!

BTW...It is nice to be back.

2007-04-24T20:12:00.000-07:00

Sonnet to Giuseppe

Sonnets to Orpheus
Silent friend of many distances,
feelhow your breath still multiplies all space.
In the darkness of the belfry's high beams,
let yourself ring. That which weakens you

will grow strong on such nourishment.
Move in and out of transformation.
What is your most painful experience?
Is the drinking bitter, become wine.

Be in this night of a thousand excesses,
magic power at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning of their rare encounter.

And when the earthly has forgotten you,
say to the quiet land: I flow.
And to the rushing waters speak: I am.
Il Fine

2007-04-24T18:55:00.000-07:00

[Currently:Must I say?]

[Mood:Helo?! Look down!]

I’m aggravated. I’m excited! I’m excited! I’m aggravated. I’m aggravated! I’m awake!

It’s 7:04 a.m. and for the last 30 minutes, I have been sitting here, at my favorite chair-my “manly” chair, as I often call it- thinking. At first, I stared at the ceiling wondering what in the world I was up so early for. Then, at the crooked picture of Jack in the distance and wondered whether people, whenever they saw it, felt the need of straightening it. The picture, to me, is straight since nothing in Jack’s world is a straight line, but people who haven’t seen the film wouldn’t know, so I wondered if they would say anything about it or not. Finally, after much deliberation and pondering (What a joke! How much deliberation can one have at such early hours), I decided to search the net. Don’t we all?

But why am I here?

Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I think my mind drifted between limbo, REM, and consciousness, which were all involuntary reactions placed upon me by the constant “moving around and twisting around…Last night, I must restate, couldn’t sleep. I’m aggravated!

Exhausted and aggravated, I got out of bed and sat in the big room. There’s no movement or sound, but the room is also too cold for me to even consider falling asleep again, so I opted for picking up my laptop, which sits eternally on the ottoman next to my manly chair. My left hand was cold. Why is it that my left hand always gets colder than the right? Is it because it is on the heart side? I put it to the sides of my hips (between the seat and me) to stabilize the temperature. There is nothing more annoying than trying to type with cold hands! I waited, and I waited a bit longer and… ding! Hand was warm and ready! I’m excited!

While in my company, I watched another small clip of the movie I know will move me forever, Jules et Jim. The short clip I found on Google video was entitled “Jules et Jim Race.” In it, Catherine dresses up like a man, Jim draws a mustache on her face, and along with Jules they walk to a bridge from which they race from one end of the bridge to the other. Catherine, their beloved Catherine, of course, crosses the line triumphant. These two madly in love men never have had it any other way. (I’m really excited. This afternoon, at around 4:30 p.m., I finally get the chance to see Jules et Jim. All plans around that time have been completely erased. With a bag of kettle popcorn in one hand and the remote on another, I will watch my film!)

Afterwards, I did more mindless surfing, I read about the alleged “Brat-Jolie” break-up, the romance between Renee Zellweger and the dude from “The Office” and stories of that nature. What else is there to do when one is force out of ones sleep? I’m aggravated!

I wonder if I should really be complaining. The silence “we” (me, myself and I) are enjoying is quite soothing. (In present tense since the writing has caught up with me) Night has slowly turned into daylight- I can see a pale hue of blue filtering through the curtains. I hear birds chirping outside. Their chip is so familiar (I hear the same chirping every morning) and so I wonder: if their chirp is always this siren-sounding chirp in the same “circular” motion- it seems- how is that communicating? Are they really communicating or simply singing to each other? Or, is that their way of courting each other? I’m so utterly confused. I’m so utterly aggravated!

Today, I think to myself, there are many things I would like to do. My mind flies back to the kitchen and to the refrigerator, to the paper posted on the side of it. The paper is a clip from a magazine with an idea of how I envision the little garden I plan to create this summer. I’m thinking today, among all other things I plan to do, I would like to clear out the area for the garden and sketch what a plan. However, my eyes are beginning to itch and my body is telling me I haven’t had enough sleep, but I can’t go back. Morning, another day has arrived and the sleep I missed last night has left me. I’m awake!

It’s 8:01 a.m. now, and I’m bored.
I should be in bed!

2007-03-26T14:07:00.000-07:00

[Currently: Relaxing and writing]

[Mood: Happy]

The Few, the proud...

There were no bells , no whistles and no pictures.

May God bless America, the land of the free!

2007-03-15T08:35:00.000-07:00

[Currently: Drinking a diet coke and laughing my head off.]
[Mood: :-) ]

Andromeda

Take a look at our closest neighborhood.

I'll elaborate on this later tonight...

2007-03-08T08:54:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Happylicious that today is Friday]
[Mood: Super!]

Polluted Sunset

Nothing Gold Can Stay

All the conversation about Eclipses, weather, Venus, etc., and how I one day I was admiring what I thought to be a beautiful sunset, when in fact the hues of colors were the result of smog in the atmosphere, have left with with the desire to quote my favorite Robert Frost's poem, "Nothing Gold Can Stay." Where's the connection? Bah, I don't know. I just feel like posting it.

Dear Smog,

Here's a little poem to inspire you to disappear from the Earth's atmosphere. However, I suppose that in order for you to disappear from the face of the Earth humans would have to stop polluting. Yes, we should, and what a dilemma that is, goodness! Let's hope Leo and Gore turn us green soon. Otherwise, with all this pollution, we'll be "plantando flores sobre hierba artificial, pariendo clones, y paseando el perro del balcon al salon" como Mecano en el "Mundo Futuro."

"Nothing Gold Can Stay"

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leafs a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

Smog Sunset in Chile. Isn't it breath-taking?

2007-03-06T08:49:00.000-08:00

Couldn't help it!

I had originally intended to post one astronomy picture each week. However, after seeing this one of Mercury I felt compelled to post it.

What this shows is a picture of an unusual solar eclipse. It is usually the moon that eclipses the Sun. This time, however, Mercury-the little perfectly round circle near the center of the image- took a turn to eclipse the Sun. the next Mercurian Solar Eclipse will occur in 2016.

I find this picture absolutely spectacular! Enjoy!

(Picture by David Cortner)

2007-03-05T13:45:00.000-08:00

[Currently: In awe by the inmense beauty of our universe]

[Mood: Quite content and relaxed]

Io: The Prometheus Plume

Prometheus was the Titan who stole the sacred fire from Zeus and the gods in order to give it to mortals. He was then punished by Zeus for failure to tell him that one of his son's would overthrow him. Zeus ordered for Prometheus to be eternally chained in the Caucasus. There, he would endure endless torment by having his liver eaten-day after day- by an eagle. Some 30,000 years later, Heracles would come to free Prometheus by finally killing the eagle.

That was Prometheus the Greek fire god. This breathtaking picture of Jupiter’s moon Io was taken by the Galileo spacecraft while it orbited around Jupiter. It shows two sulfurous eruptions: one is Pillan Patera (at the top of the moon’s edge), and the other is Prometheus plume (located in the center of the picture) which was named after the Titan due to it’s almost 18 years of continuous volcanic activity.

My question is: How could something so visually beautiful be so deadly?

(The image was taken by Galileo on June 28, 1997 from a distance of 600,000 kilometers.)

2007-03-04T07:37:00.000-08:00

[Currently: wishing for another day to relax]

[Mood: Must I answer that?]

To you: I salute thee!

At the moment, I'm completely devoted to trying to make the most out of the weekend but wanted to stop by and leave a message.

Consider yourself Welcomed

Sharpe!

2007-02-28T09:02:00.000-08:00

[Currently: here]

[Mood: The title says it.]

Completely Spaced Out

Helix Nebula

Going back to basics:

Today, for my own enjoyment, I have decided to post a daily (or weekly) picture of our space and Universe. This one in particular is one of my latest favorite pictures. I think it has been labeled by some as the "Eye from God." The picture is actually from the Helix Nebula located about 700 light years from the constellation of Aquarius. The bluish dust is radiation captured by infrared camera which shows the surrounding gas and dust to be approximately 2 light years in diameter. Yes, 2 light years in diameter! To think of the immensity of Nebula Helix is absolutely inconceivable and humbling. Later!

2007-02-24T19:55:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Searching for the past...]
[Mood: I'm a green sash. I'm happy.]

Green Sash

Today, I have finally become a Green Sash in my Kung Fu class. I feel very proud of myself and excited to continue expanding my knowledge and skills in the vast world of Martial Arts. By “vast” I mean that aside from my Kung Fu class, I have adopted yet another art; the art of Shaolin Tao.

I began to attend the Chinese Shao- Lin Center last week. Since my Kung Fu class only meets on Saturdays, I wanted to find additional training in order to expand my skills. The CSC was exactly what I had been looking for. It contains an extensive curriculum dedicated to different branches of traditional Shaolin such as empty hand, animal and classical weapons as part of their External area (Kung Fu) and Tai Chi, Pa Kua Chang, breathing and meditation for Internal areas.

I believe that by making the extra effort to learn this new kind of art, I’m staying loyal to my kung Fu class motto which states the following: “In order to improve the world, we must first improve ourselves.”

I’m pleased to have accepted the challenge of testing today, for I had originally dismissed the possibility of testing due to lack of time to practice. However, thanks to the undivided inspiration of my family, I gained the strength and determination to push forward and receive my next sash.

Earning the Green Sash has empowered me to continue accept new knowledge. Just as our philosophy says, “Green shows the ability to adapt to new light and knowledge. We now begin to apply the light and knowledge received from the lessons of the white and gold sashes. Next we have the watering of the plant which adds a new dimension to its growth. We too must be like the tree, the deeper the roots the stronger the tree. We are becoming more deeply rooter as we gain more light and knowledge and apply it into our lives.” I’m prepared to do exactly as our philosophy says.

Today was a day of great joy and also the start of a new beginning.

(I’m not positive, but I think I found some photographs of my teacher Mitch’s master master, Grandmaster Yin Fu . In addition, I found a picture of Grandmaster Yin Fu’s master, Grandmaster Dong Hai- Ch-uan. These pictures have given me a better perspective as to where my art originated from.)

Don Hai- Ch-iuan

Yin Fu

2007-02-19T22:00:00.000-08:00

[Currently: feeling relief]

[Mood: extremely peaceful]

The Sundays- “When I’m Thinking About You” (Static and Silence-1997)

...And today, I did indeed think about you Harriet. I remember it perfectly: the year was 1997, and my boyfriend had surprised me with tickets to see The Sundays, my favorite band of all time. My excitement was so intense that we arrived at the arena an hour early the day of the concert. My hope was to catch a glimpse of the four people who had so blissfully embellished my life with beauty and fantasy for almost eight years. To my discontent, the glimpse I had so eagerly hoped for did not happen until after the concert had started. The wait, nevertheless, had been well worth it.

So an hour later, of what seemed to have lasted an eternity, the lights finally went out, and one by one: Harriet Wheeler, David Gavurin, Patrick Hannan and Paul Brindley appeared on stage. As it is to imagine, for such a devoted fan like me, I was ecstatic and aphonic from all the screaming! Never, in a million years, did I imagine ever seeing them live. I was certain these kinds of things could not happen to someone like me, and considering all the turmoil The Sundays had gone through in the last five years, I felt my chances of ever seeing them live were non-existent. But there I was standing so close to the stage, feeling so bloody grateful I merely burst from the excitement. I could feel the heat from the stage lights warm up my face. It was inevitable, my moment to unravel the existence of sirens had arrived and I was ready- that being Harriet, of course.

I’ll never forget the instant I saw her as she entered the stage from the left, gracefully waving and bowing to her audience. She looked so lovely- she’s always embodied a simple yet delicate kind of beauty- in her denim overalls and yellow Doc Martins. Her hair, romantically pinned up into a French twist, reminded me of the many pictures I had seen of her in the past. Her familiar resemblance to the Harriet in photographs made the entire experience a delightful surrealistic moment worthy of Salvador Dali. I remember jumping up and down with excitement while shouting in my mind, “That’s her! That’s really Harriet!”

When the band began to play, and Harriet’s voice filled the air with roses, I knew I could finally die and to go Heaven. My purpose in life- I thought back then- had finally been fulfilled. So for almost two hours, I sang along with a Siren with such enthusiasm even David and Patrick noticed me. I was absolute ecstasy; on a cloud and had no intention of coming down from it.

After the concert, and with a fulfilled soul to last me a life time, I convinced my boyfriend to hang around the premises to see what would happen next. Other people, fans and media, had hung around to chat, get interviews and take pictures. We opted to do as they did. We began to drift from one place to the next; occasionally helping others take pictures of each others, etc. Moments later, a large group of people began to gather by the back door. We could never have imagined that it was the Sundays making another entrance into the building that was causing the commotion. People were cheering, screaming, crying tears of disbelief, joy…all these combined, and I joined them.

David: “Joy” (Reading, Writing and Aritmetic-1990)

The first member I encountered was David Gavurin. He asked me what my name was to which I couldn’t respond. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t verbalize a single word; I was as mute as a noot. Gladly, thanks to my boyfriend, who took it upon himself the task of responding in my behalf, I was saved from complete embarrassment.

The moment David learned about my Hispanic descent, he became intrigued. He led me towards some chairs and engaged in an all Spanish conversation with me. It was surreal! David and I carried on the most interesting conversation. We talked about everything- the places he and Harriet had visited, how he loved to speak Spanish, how grateful they were to be touring… but he also wanted to know about me, my background, my experiences, and my perspective of American life from a Hispanic stand point. I mean what a joy! Then, to make things even better, he called Harriet to come meet me. Yes, he called her to come meet little Ms. I’m-Not-Worthy me!

Harriet- “She” (Static and Silence-1997)

If I had not fully liquefied when David spoke to me, I know for a fact I had turned into vapor by the time Harriet did. David, who stood right next to her, had told her about my listening to their tape non-stop for an entire year. Delighted and ever so lovely, she gave me a big hug and a smile and signed the play list I had snatched from stage: “Thank you for your listening ears. Love, Harriet.”

Back to 1989- “My Finest Hour” (Reading, writing and Arithmetic- 1990)

I discovered The Sundays in 1989 during one of those days I had successfully manipulated my father into giving me some money. That afternoon after school I decided to go to Bayside for my usual rounds. I did browse for a while and tried to figure out what to buy. As usual, I ended up at the record store. That’s when I came across a cover with fossils all over it. The name of the band was The Sundays, and the album was entitled: "Reading, Writing and Arithmetic." I had never heard of the group, but I liked the cover, so I purchased the tape.

Beginnings- “Here’s Where the Story Ends” (Reading, Writing and Arithmetic- 1990)

…And where The Sundays began. Like many other great bands, The Sundays had their start in Manchester, New England with vocalist Harriet Wheeler and guitarist David Gavurin. They both met while studying at Bristol University and began writing songs. In 1988, they were asked to perform at the "Vertigo Club" in Camben, London. It was their first concert, so they added drummer Patrick Hannan and bassist Paul Brindley to their duo. The Sundays had been born.

A year later, The Sundays released their first album “Reading, Writing and Arithmetic.” Sadly, after its great release the band went on hiatus. It would take three more years for the band to re-appear.

Hiatus- “Goodbye” (Blind-1992)

In 1992, The Sundays released "Blind," their second album. Unlike their first, "Blind" represented a more mature and adventurous side of the band. The album won gold sales record and gave the group world wide recognition. However, in spite of all the success, Harriet and Gavurin decided to stay away from the public eye and return to the recording studio. During this time, they married and had their first daughter, Billie. The band’s last album (to this date) would be released five years later.

I miss you…“So much” (Static and Silence-1997)

The year was 1997, and I was in Media Play when I heard Harriet’s distinctive voice through the speakers. The melody was unfamiliar, so I thought it was probably yet another band trying to copy the voice but I knew the voice was hers. I asked around the store and to my amazement found out The Sundays had indeed released a new album, "Static and Silence." The track I heard at the store was their single: “When I’m Thinking About You.” Months later, I was in the front row seeing them live.

"What do you think?" (Blind-1992)

Will they ever return? It’s been almost 10 years since "Static and Silence" and there is still no indication The Sundays will ever delight us with their music ever again. Whatever the future has in store there is one thing I know for sure: The Sundays will remain my most favorite, most beloved band. In my heart, their music will resonate forever!

To you, Harriet, David, Paul and Patrick, wherever you are...

I love you!

2007-02-01T18:38:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Reminiscing and listening to... Millie Vanilli? Lord, no!!]

[Mood: will be much better once I change this bloody song!]

Occam's Razor

Could anyone explain to me why things always have to be so complex when they’re not complicated at all? I was doing some research on Secular Judaism for my presentation tonight and after coming across a zillion of what were supposed to be the “definitions,” I finally found one simple enough for me to grasp the concept. It read: “Briefly put, secular Judaism is an identification with Jewish history and culture as the primary aspect of one's Jewishness, with supernatural belief either downplayed or nonexistent.”

…Briefly put”? Sure! Why couldn’t it just say: Secular Judaism identifies Jewish history and culture but disregards the presence of God? How hard is that? All that useless space filler terminology is completely unnecessary… And to be honest, I can honestly testify that at 10 p.m. I’m not in the mood to decipher stuff- that’s why we had people like Einstein and "MacGyver" doing all the critical thinking for us. At this time of the night, with the hours rapidly melting away, all I want is a concise answer that I can then re-word (plagiarism is highly punishable) and go to bed.

But it never fails (just like Murphy)…And it is always the simplest of things the ones that are the most comlicated ones. I wonder if the people involved in defining words have ever heard of Occam's Razor.

Are you familiar with the term? I am actually quite fond of it. It is my favorite I- think- I- have- heard- enough- of- an- annoying- classmate- therefore- I- am- ending- the- conversation, ultra secret Chinese technique to end conversations.

Occam’s razor (The real spelling is Ockham, but Occam works the same.) is very effective at ending burn-out conversations because its principle states that “when you have two competing theories which make exactly the same predictions, the one that is simpler is the better" of the two. Makes sense, doesn’t it?

Now, it must be mentioned that although Occam’s effectiveness is usually enlightening (to most people), applying Occam on the wrong person could mean having to engage in an endless game of I- have- the- last- word games that are not fun at all since the main purpose of Occam is to END annoying conversations in the first place.

2007-01-30T19:16:00.000-08:00

[Currently: ....]
[Mood: tired]
[Trip playlist by: New Order, The Smiths, Scissor Sisters, Thomas Dolby, Cheap Trick, ColdPlay...]

Unexpected Snow Storm: 15 Degrees

Oscar Wilde once said, “Imitation is the most sincere compliment." In this simple self-portrait, I feel I do exactly that as I try to honor my favorite photographer, Robert Doisneau. Last year, I posted a similar self-photograph taken by Doisneau to illustrate my poem "This Hand and Pen." When I stood in front of this mirror, I felt compelled to imitate that photograph.
Snow Storm

(An unexpected snow storm covered the tops of the highest mountains in this breathtaking region of North Carolina.)
It will never cease to amaze me how rapidly the temperature can change in the Smokies. For instance, it could be 40 degrees down in the reservation, but in less than five minutes of driving towards the summit, the temperature could drop to a freezing 15 degrees! As we ascended, every mountain, tree, and road was covered by a thin coat layer of snow, accompanied by an invigorating wind that kept infiltrating itself inside my nostrils.
At first, the ride was relatively safe; however, as the day progressed, the thin layer of snow began to turn into ice which made the drive much more challenging. Luckily, by that time, we had already reached the other side of the valley. Our car was one of the last ones to cross over. Behind us, I could see the forest rangers preparing to close the gates.

Turn lights on- Bridge ahead

This is one of three bridges along the wavering descent from the summit. This one in particular happens to be my favorite because of its length. The tunnel isn’t ridiculously long nor is there anything that could be considered spectacular about it. However, it is the longest of the three which means drivers can indulge in a long standing tradition of blowing their car horn and listening to the reverberating echoes bounce back at them. Natural Beauty

I am always marveled at the understated beauty of nature’s icy sculptures. There’s a sense of timelessness that compels me to capture such sights in a photograph as a reminder of an art form that will be melted away by warm sunlight.

Footprints not yet taken

And why would I choose to further disturb the path ahead of me? As I pointed the camera down, I attempted to imagine how many flakes it must have taken to cover the sidewalk so perfectly and found myself entralled by this insignificant patch of snow. Beauty, even in the simplest form such as this small patch of snow reflected through my camera lens, should be admired and never altered.

Ancient view

Although not an Oriental landscape, the gently hues of grays and the rolling hills in the distance remind me of a Chinese mountainous scenery. When I look at this picture and succeed at erasing from my mind the fact that I’m in the Smokies, I can easily lose myself remembering the Chinese landscape art hanging from my uncle’s walls.

Suite 440

A large room with a fancy bed and dresser; a comfortable living room with complimentary "fake" flowers; a small nook of a kitchen assembled with a small dining table and chairs, a fire place and a Jacuzzi seem to be the way to relaxation.

Uncle Bill's Flea Market

Absolutely worth the drive, Uncle Bill's Flea Market is the perfect excuse to call for field trip. Near the reservation and surrounded by the beautifully rough and rural mountains, it is infused with the simplicity and hospitality of the people living nearby. People here are so nice; they even want to talk to you in the bathrooms! I have nothing against such extreme measures of camaraderie; I just think bathrooms are off limits, that's all. I only have one question: Is Uncle Bill alive and real?

(Headless) "Self"

Photobiographical '07

2007-01-24T18:39:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Listening to "If you want my love"]
[Mood: Groovy]

Cheap, but...I Got It!

Seriously, seriously, SERIOUSLY!!! Goodness, this song rocks!!

For some ransom reason, I have become quite fond of Cheap Trick’s “If you want my love.” There’s no explanation as to why this song makes me so happy but it just does. The funny thing is that I don’t remember when was the last time I stop to carefully listen to any Cheap Trick song, aside from this one. Their biggest hits were mostly during the 80’s, decade I spent listening to Progressive bands (The Smiths, The Cure...); Punk bands ( The Dead Kennedy's, Sex Pistols...); and New Wave bands (Devo, Missing Persons...).

However, if memory serves me well, I do remember them having a song called "The Flame" that was really popular during the 80’s. It used to play so often on the radio, I ended up memorizing some of the lyrics. They went something like: “Wherever you go, I’ll be with you… Whenever you need someone to lay your heart and head upon…remember after the fire, after all the rain, I will be the flame…” -undoubtedly, like I said, a popular and lovely song. (At least that’s what I thought back then whenever I heard it on the radio.)

Anyway, I think the reason why I’m so fondly attached (or insanely bewitched) by “If you want my love” is because for almost 2 consecutive weeks I woke up to this song. I’m not kidding; it was the alarm! Maybe listening to it so regularly caused my mind to enjoy it so much? I don't know. All I know is that really enjoy it...to the point of madness.

…And there I go: I have to play it yet again! (How annoying!)

If you want my love you got it.
When you need my love you got it.
I won’t hide it.

I won’t throw your love away, oo.

If you want my love you got it.

When you need my love you got it.

I won’t hide it.

I won’t throw your love away, oo.

Yes, I thought you were a mystery girl,

A special girl in this crazy old world.

You couldn’t see me when I laid eyes on you…

(Until I get tired of listening to it, por supuesto)

2007-01-24T18:02:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Wishing for Friday and weekend]
[Mood: relatively content. No, I'm now annoyed!]

2007-01-22T14:36:00.000-08:00

Metal night at Lenny’s

Later that Saturday…photo shot was at Lenny’s. (Arrived at 10 p.m. and left at around 2 a.m.) The assignment was to take some candid shots of the crowd and of the three bands playing that night.

The bands were awesome! My only complain, and my comments come from a non-smoker point of view, was the lack of circulation in the air. Without exaggeration,the air was so stagnant, cigarette smoke literally sat above people like a cloud. But that's not all because to make matters worse, since I was stationed right next to the restroom, most of the guys waiting in line kept blowing smoke in my direction. I don't think I've ever had that much second hand smoke in my life! The concentration of nicotine was so heavy I could hardly keep my eyes opened because they burned so much. I began to feel nauseous and weak; I craved clean air.

Hoping fresh air would make me feel better, I went outside and that's when it hit me: I had not eaten all day! (No wonder I was so weak, right?) Suddenly, my nausea turned into hunger and now, instead of fresh air, I craved food. I satisfied my hunger at the One Love Café, a Jamaican restaurant adjacent to Lenny’s. After eating some plantains and a diet coke I went back inside.

Sting and I waited for the concert to end and left for the night.

Although I spent the following day trying to get rid of the cigarette funk I had on me, I really did have a good time at Lenny’s. I just don’t think this is a place I would care to visit on a regular basis, other than for work purposes. No disrespect intended, though.

No, but seriously...How is it that I get rid of the cigarette smoke in leather? My Coach purse reeks like a junk yard!

Hola, Salvador. Come stai?

2007-01-21T15:30:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Smelling my hair]
[Mood: happy]

No Kidding...!

This past Saturday, while assisting in a photo session, I came across the video by the band She Wants Revenge. I had never heard their music before, but was astonished by the band's similarities to the groups Joy Division and Bauhaus. I wrote their name down for further research.

Later that day, I discovered She Wants Revenge's inspiration to be founded by the sound of legendary post-punk band, Joy Division. Yeah, no kidding! Their entire album is a combination of Joy Division, New Order and even a bit of Bauhaus…! Don't take me wrong, the mixture is riveting but even their label (Perfect Kiss) is related to Joy Division's later ensemble, New Order? Talk about absolute devotion..! It’s ok, though. I just haven't come across a band with this much devotion before.

Where's the love? She Wants Revenge definitely has it. By far, they have given the best rendition to Joy Division’s sound and succeeded at their purpose. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t change The Killers from recording their cover version of "Shadowplay," a 1979 track by this short-lived band. The cover will be used in the film Control, a biopic about the life Joy Divison's front man, Ian Curtis.

All things considered, She Wants Revenge is a great band with an even greater, familiar sound- I can't help but feel melancholic after listening to their songs. Their music has helped filled the void left by Joy Division's enigmatic lead singer, Ian Curtis.

This is really great stuff. I’m smiling big time, and I hope Ian is too.

2007-01-15T10:29:00.000-08:00

[Currently: off, thanks to Martin...]
[Mood: fairly content]
[Dedicated to Magica]

J.M.W. Turner

After reviewing several of J.M.W. Turner’s paintings, I found not one but four that intrigued my imagination and inspired my senses. They were: Snowstorm, Burial at Sea, The burning of the Houses of the Lords and Commons, and Slavers throwing overboard the Dead and Dying. In my opinion, I found all four paintings to be surreal in content with each stroke interpretative and evocative; true witnesses of a crude, decadent world that was obscure but full of light that existed so long ago.

Snowstorm

In Snowstorm, on the open seas, I see Poseidon’s fierce path of destruction claiming its dominion The lone vessel could be an intruder on Poseidon’s realm or perhaps a thief filled with treasure from far away worlds. The lone vessel’s an intruder or, perhaps, a thief filled with treasures from far away worlds. In this representation of a “snowstorm”, Mother Nature and Water have created an alliance in which they have easily engulfed and suffocated the ship to the murky depths without any chance of survival. Just as a photograph captures light and form, the painting has captured the hunter and its prey in the midst of destruction before the hunted surrenders to the depths of Il Mare (the sea).

Burial at the Sea

One of the things I enjoyed about this painting, aside from Turner’s mastery to capture light in the rarest of situations was his exceptional inclination to add minute detail in a painting depicting a much greater event. In Burial At Sea, a small bird, perhaps a seagull, is seen flying above the water. By that, I’m referring to the little bird (perhaps a seagull) flying above the water. The bird’s presence allows a different perspective to be seen within the entire composition because suddenly I hear the sounds that perhaps emanated from this painting. I become part of the Burial At sea and from the pier, where I sit quietly, with my bare feet occasionally brushing against the cold water, I can hear the seagull as it searches for food; I can smell the salty sea water, and the faint smell of fire, out in the distance.

Slavers throwing overboard the Dead and Dying

Abandonment and abrupt death was brought upon these animals (and I use term “animals” to refer to even humans, for they were simply thrown out of the ship like one), and my eyes are driven to Turner’s magnificent use of color. He uses burning reds to signify rage, fire, blood…hues of yellows to signify heat, flames and desolation… and white tones to suggest dead calm before the disaster. I believe this to be Turner’s interpretation of the Hell that awaited those left to perish. It is without a doubt, Dante’s Inferno.

To the left, the sea waters seem prepared to swallow what appears to be a sacrifice. To the right, a voracious sea monster (I love how turner gave into mysticism and included this seemingly larger fish in the painting) makes its entrance to devour whatever the sea doesn’t claim into its depths. Either way, their destiny had already been chosen by those in the distant ship.The painting is grotesque, raw and merciless; however, I admire its sincerity to depict an event that most probably determined the death or survival of the living still on the ship. See, it is obvious, by the dark, blue grayish skies that the ship was entering a deathly storm and needed to ease its load in order to keep the ship afloat. The question is: Did they survive or also perished?

The Burning of the Houses of the Lords and Commons

The Burning of Houses of the Lords and Commons is a spectacular painting that actually seems to involuntarily celebrate the burning of Westminster Palace and its surroundings with its festive yet destructive array of colors. I use the word “celebration” because to the spectators watching from the other side of Thames the fire must have appeared like a colossal and magnificent festival of fire works.
I’m absolutely in love with Turner’s stark contrast between the gigantic fire against the serenity of the dark, starry, blue sky to the right. (I wonder if, Van Gogh’s, The Starry Night was ever inspired by this painting.) He doesn’t reveal much of the beautiful, calm night in the background; however, it is enough for the viewer to sense how sudden and unexpected the fire must have been.

Turner ingeniously scoops us into this painting vortex. First, he takes us to the center of the painting, right where the bridge meets the fire, to the path of the illuminated bridge and into the multitude of spectators at the bottom of the painting. Then our eyes continue to travel to a cross; from there, into a group of well dressed men in the lower left corner. our eyes continue to travel and stop into what appears to be a cross of some sort to then continue to the group of gentile or noble men on the lower left corner. From Turner’s use of color, there is also a disparity and a separation of the social ranks: higher –tailored clothes are gathered together, lower status individuals in less glamorous clothing watch from a further distance. From this location, the eyes travel up and across the Thames into the fire itself. Once there, Turner makes us linger into his vague interpretations of the palace and its surroundings. Within the flames, we search for some detail or explanation to what may have cause the devastating fire. Lastly, we meet the fire where it mingles with the night sky, and we’re effortlessly carried away to the other side of the bridge by a white, smoky cloud. This painting is absolutely ingenious!

2007-01-13T17:55:00.000-08:00

Matt Kearney

a b s o l u t e l y

and inevitably

l o v e l y!

(Oh, and I adore that little green hat.)

2007-01-13T17:16:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Sentada en mi silla favorita y rodeada en completo silencio]
[mood: ...en completa paz]

(Finalmente, finalmente...)

"Volver"

Tonight, after much waiting, I saw the newest amazing film by my favorite Spanish Director, Pedro Almodovar, Volver. …and what a film it was!

I arrived at the theatre almost 15 minutes late, only to encounter the beautiful Penelope Cruz (Raymunda) with the supporting cast leaving flowers in a cemetery. As always, Penelope looked amazingly breath taking and transformed into what appeared to be the character of an ordinary wife, living in an ordinary life, in the company of her daughter (Yohana Cobo) and sister Sole (Lola Duenas).

Almost immediately, I found myself hypnotized by the film’s humanistic splendor so characteristic of all Almodovar’s films. In this film, he ingeniously manages to intertwine the lives of his characters into one common factor without ever losing a sense of compassion, humor, fortune, and tragedy…all essential parts of being human.

I’ve been a Pedro Almodovar fan ever since I first saw the acclaimed film Mujeres al borde de un ataque de nervios, in 1989- a year later after its release.
I fell in love with Almodovar’s boldness to address issues, otherwise considered tabu and by his ability to capture the humanism of people in general. His films, often brutal in the portrayal of its characters, always manage to illustrate the fact that at the end of the day, regardless of our backgrounds, we are all individuals trying to make the best of our lives.

Volver is without a doubt one of Almodovar’s best films since Hable con ella.

2006-12-31T17:00:00.000-08:00

The time has come: B.B.B. get married in Baltimore!

This past weekend, I flew to Baltimore to see my best friend Betsy marry her wonderful fiancé Bill. Literally, the weekend of fun began Friday, at 6:00 a.m. and ended on Sunday, at 4:00 p.m.

Gate 27: Silent Observation

I arrived at the airport at 7:00 a.m., checked in my bags and waited until 9:25 to board the plane. From my seat, reclined really low and with my coat only revealing my eyes (like some kind of spy), I observed silently the people around me. One person in particular was the lady sitting in front me. I tried…I tried not to stare, but I couldn’t help it….the woman had a mustache, a big hairy mustache! At first, I felt compassion for her, but not for long. I realized that her “issue” could have been easily resolved had she shaved her the hair monster. In all honesty, all she needed to do was buy a 2.00 dollar pack of razors, shaving cream, and shave the darn thing! Why she refused to do so is beyond me.

Iceland: So far away from home...

As I began to lose interest in the “mustache lady,” a young guy- in his mid-twenties- passed by me and sat diagonally to me. After sitting, he took his laptop out of his back pack, put on his headphones and began to type something. As I discreetly followed his movements (same way I had done before with the other lady), I noticed all the “Iceland” stickers on his laptop and wondered if he was really from Iceland. If so, I thought: how great would that be and… how far away from home he was! I immediately began to think of all the pictures I have seen of Iceland and tried to find any Icelander features on his face. Yeah, like there I would really be able to tell if he was from Iceland by just looking.
Anyway, the “Icelander” (I’ve decided he was indeed from Iceland- that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!) was typing so vigorously I became intrigued. What could he possibly be looking at or typing that kept him so concentrated? I couldn’t help it; I had to stare. That is until he looked up and caught me looking. Yep, that was the end! I quickly repositioned and pretended to look for my Ipod.

Sit already, goodness!

Shortly after, as I was putting on my headphones, a group of people, family or whatever came towards my direction. At first, the two adults and the youngest girl sat on the chairs next to me, but stood up because the older girl was not sitting close to the little girl- there was a person in between them. So, they took their entire luggage and moved to the next row on the other side. Once there, the two girls hurried and sat on the first seats they found, followed by one of the adults. However, since the other one adult didn’t get to sit near them, they got up and moved, again! So for the third time, they picked up their bags and walked to the row of seats against the window. They found four empty seats, sat and just as I thought they were done moving around they stood up yet again! I couldn’t believe it! What were these people thinking about with all the moving around? Anyway, by this time, with more and more people arriving at the gate most of the seats, including the ones by the window, had been taken. So, what happened? …Well, they ended up scattered all over the place. That’s what I call a true “Murphy” moment.

Politeness…? Yeah, ummm...where…?

At exactly 9:25 a.m., the fly attendants informed the passengers it was time to board. So, I got my boarding pass scanned and proceed to go down the ramp. Once inside the plane, I began to look for my seat, 10 F. The rubbish that happened next inspired me to write this next entry:

- Excuse me; I believe you’re in my seat.

The woman- in her late-twenties- takes a look at me and then a look at the baby she carried in her arms.

- Oh, I think it would be best if I (she took a quick glance at the baby) sit here. But I mean, we’ll move f you really want us to.

Of course I cared, but how could I possible ask her to move now when she, her husband and their baby had already settled in? It was evident that, in her little mind, she believed having a baby in her arms gave her the right to sit by the window, my seat. Being the lady that I am, I decided not to make them move. However, I was really pissed at her lack of decorum and had not problem displaying how upset I was. I think the polite thing to do would have been for them to sit in their assigned sits and ask me- once I arrived- if I wouldn't mind changing seats.

After we landed, she found me in the bathroom and said to me:

- It could have been worse, huh?

- Excuse me?

- It could have been worse, you know, with the baby? It could have been worse…

I didn’t answer, but thought: No, what would have been better was if you had not taken my seat, punk! I gave her a nasty look and walked away.

Politeness…? Sure, where?

Hello from Hawaii!

Gongrats to the newlywed!

2006-12-28T20:36:00.000-08:00

[currently: getting ready for trip tomorrow]
[mood: nervous, happy, happy, nervous, happy, nervous, happy...]

time skipped by involuntary writer's block

It is particularly irritating whenever I fail to convey an idea I have already started. Before writing this supplemental entry, I had been working on two paragraphs I had written on December 19. The entry began by saying: “Today, I wrote.” It was a simple title; however, it depicted exactly what I had done that entire Sunday morning.

With me, I had taken an old little book whose cover read Scotts. The book was not for reading, but for holding, within its pages, several small pieces of paper I had previously cut in order to discreetly write my letter.

The purpose of my writing was merely explanatory. Details about its content are absolutely unnecessary, but I must declare that no part of it dealt with the pressing issues of that week in particular which I may continue to add had been quite enlightening and sad. No, this letter dealt with an honest, more important issue in need of explanation. So in the back row, surrounded by busy children, a woman with a chronic cough, and voices over the microphone, I found the perfect environment to begin writing.

(This is where I had originally stopped the other two paragraphs; somewhere between watching Pulp Fiction and trying to find the right words my mind got blocked. Pulp Fiction, by the way, is a fine film. …A bit grotesque around the edges, but quite mesmerizing to watch…in between naps, that is, for I can hardly keep my eyes opened. )

Back to the story…By the time I left... I had written 5 pages, front and back. The explanation was heartfelt and honest, just the way I had planned. As a bonus, I even endured a “passing” moment I have yet to classify as anything, something of importance, but I wonder if it’s truly worth my time. The answer is no, not really. I just haven’t got the time for that anymore.

Days later, the letter reached its destination, and I’m glad to say that everything ended up fine. …Goodness, and to think that this new post was merely an attempt to explain how writer’s block had skipped time over an entry.

(Next entry will be sometime next week, after the wedding.)

2006-12-16T06:37:00.000-08:00

[Presentemente: Con una pereza de perro... No me quiero levantar.]
[Humor: Fastidiada de tener que lidiar con lo que me espera el Domingo. Si, si, desde ahora me preparo.]

Se me habia olvidado

Veamos si puedo escribir este "entry" en Espanol. Se me habia olvidado podria titularse: Se me olvido. Se me ha olvidado el Espanol, pero creo haber desempenado un buen trabajo anoche durante la visita de mi segunda prima, Camira. Por lo menos, logramos tener una conversacion relativamente animada e interesante. Como nunca ha estado aqui, la llevamos a pasasear a un lugar famoso por su formacion geografica. Creo que la paso muy bien aunque estaba muy callada.

El estar en este pequeno paseo me dio un poco de melancolia, pues me imagine como seria si yo fuera la que estuviera visitando otro pais. Italia, por lo menos en la compania de mis pasieros. Es un sueno mio y espero que pronto se vuelva realidad.

Pues nada, hoy salimos nuevamente a "sight seeing" por los alrededores de la ciudad con la prima.

2006-12-15T21:23:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Freezing to death]
[Mood: Amused]

coming across a genius

Short, sweet, and perfect!

E.M. Forster once said that, in his writing, he wrote to three types of people. He said: I wrote to“the person I think I am, the people who irritate me and the person I’d like to be.” I think in all fairness, the veracity of the statement is accurate, for I also, in my own small way, wish for the same audience.

(Forster is second to the left.)

2006-12-14T19:29:00.000-08:00

Le R e g a r d Oblique

2006-12-12T18:43:00.000-08:00

[Currently: ......]
[Mood: lost taste for it]

once lost it is lost forever, or is it?

This entry comes to mind completely unrehearsed. It orignates in the center of my being which rises ever so steadily to my brain in order to spark a thought. Each thought determines how each finger touches each key which rhythmically creates word after word after word...until I have extracted, like a magician would, a series of handkerchiefs up my sleeve. I feel relief.

I wish I could put myself inside the hat and disappear into a place where Dali, Bunuel, Doisneau, E.M. Forster, Rilke and Frost all dwell together in blissful harmony. Perhaps then I would be fully understood, and why shouldn't I when surrounded by the most intriguing men the Earth has ever fostered?

My God on Earth, Salvador Dali, tortured by the inability to release his sexual desires but prolific at turning them into art, salutes me. How could I ever compete with such mastery? Such dexterity that manifests desire deep within my being that I have never fully expressed in any medium.So at the feet of the Great Dali, I remain a most loyal shadow, an apprentice thirsty for knowledge. Under his grandeur, I am protected by the mundane and the ordinary.

Buñuel, Buñuel, Buñuel …whatever Dali did not paint to canvas,Bunuel's eye would take into his arms and carry them into the frame. To be his heroine in film, his muse…no one would dare judge me when faced by the horrific sight of a donkey’s eyeball being sliced in half.

In the background, as I perform my epic scenes, Doisneau’s charismatic lens would capture pieces of me in my entire splendor as a woman who is now lost in a world of defiance, bravery and humanism, and name each slide masterpiece of the new era. I am that woman in Le Regard Oblique whose pompous pose turned heads and made her immortal. I would only be an object of a larger scheme of hues of whites and blacks and of shy glances of dismay, but who could ever object to being immortalized?

And in the mist of it all, that rawness that can only be admired by the plainness of our beautiful human bodies becomes a secret to Forster who finds tranquility in the fact that the woman in the painting has looked away. She is bare, exposed yet hidden forever in the memory of her creator. Forster hides behind his own medium through pages and pages of novels, hoping to find a satisfying kind of love; a forbidden love. I could never top his secrecy and admit that in a way he was that woman in that painting being glanced at through the window, completely bare to the eyes of others yet protected by silence and discretion. Who would dare question me when, in this world of geniuses, Forster's desire to “come out” was never really to “get out”…of his closet.

Perhaps Rilke and Frost would dare to question me as they sit across from each other; across from me, absolutely submerged in deep thought: One sipping on tea, looking away at the horizon in search of figurative language, and the other ardently sketching me with his eyes to later paint me with his poetic words. To Rilke, I am more than a strange person in a strange place. I have become a sudden source of admiration and, in me, he sees adsire to create for the sake of what fires him from within. The curve of his “L’s” wrap themselves around my neck caressing me as the sensual curvature of his “O’s” pull me towards him ever so closely only to find his arousing “I’s” touching the sides and then center of my lips with pure ardor. I am at his mercy, completely and voluntarily entrapped in his world of words. No misunderstanding could ever take me away.

And Frost, the platonic master of masters, always in the search for metaphor, finds in me inspiration and with a single glance compares me, gracefully, to a butterfly:

My Butterfly

“…Since first I saw thee glance, With all the dazzling other ones, In airy dalliance, Precipitate in love, Tossed, tangled, whirled and whirled above, Like a limp rose-wreath in a fairy dance. …”

If Frost says I am his butterfly, then no argument should follow. His words should sufficiently retract anyone from ever miscomprehending my nature.

...But like I said before, sadly and most regrettably, I’m not a magician…

2006-11-27T13:48:00.000-08:00

All over and over again... TYRANNY OF TIME!

Product of Italia

Lovely picture, Massimo!

Tyranny of Time (not in picture order):

Simone Gaddeo-Voce

Massimo Moretti-Batteria --,--'--{@

Fabio Pusateri-Tastiera

Piero S.- Chitarra

Simone Curatola-Basso

Que Viva el Metal!!!

2006-11-19T18:34:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Letting go …]
[Mood: neutral]

Sincerity pays nothing in return….

Friday afternoon was one of those days…Sully, as if knowing my sentiment, played Coldplay, Fix You. Just as I was turning into my street, the song began to play and it seemed as if it had been made for me; made for that exact moment.

When you try your best but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below
When you’re too in love to let it go
But if you never try you’ll never know
Just what you’re worth.

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you.

2006-11-15T16:55:00.000-08:00

Only a Handful: Friends to Honor

With Thanksgiving around the corner, I thought about creating a little "log for the blog" to honor the few people (aside from my family) who make my life much more interesting. These people represent my source of sanity, strenght, craziness and comfort, among other things.

Betsy: My ultimate best friend in the entire world.

Most distinct attribute: Her ability to cuss like a sailor.

After 5 years of knowing her, there is nothing can say that will shock me, I’ve heard it all. But regardless of her “sailor-like” attributes, I would not change her for the world; she is top notch and soon to be happily married to the most amazing man she has ever known. Her wedding day, there is no doubt, will be the greatest day in our friendship.

Janne: A person everyone should have the honor of knowing.

Most distinct attribute: The goodness of his heart.

Janne is a person who possesses such a huge heart, he literally makes it possible for me to believe in the goodness of the world. I’m very lucky to know such an exceptional human being.

Cristina: My weekend sista’

Most distinct attribute: In the most literal sense, Queen of Crafts.

Cristina, has mastered every craft out there. In all honesty, I don’t think there is anything, in the “world of crafts,” she has not experimented with already. Referred by me as my "weekend crowd," Cristina and her children are one of those people I can not live without. Favorite quote: “Some women like to collect shoes, I like to collect fabric.”

Massimo: My own personal Italian Prince and gem.

Most distinct attribute: His passion for life.

Massimo is a guy who loves and feels to the fullest each and every time. He believes life should be lived passionately and without reservations. He stands for love, friendship, loyalty and life, all attributes we share in common and reason, perhaps, why we get along so well.

"Beau": The newest addition to my list of friends.

Most distinct attribute: His ability to inspire me.

I think for me it was "muse" at first sight from the beginning. However, although we have been friends for almost a year, and there’s still much more to discover about our friendship, I hold him very close to me for all the inspiration his muse like state provides me with. Any person who is capable of encouraging me to do the things I enjoy doing with such dedication deserves nothing less than my admiration.

Corinne: The true embodiment of an angel.

Most distinct attribute: Her humanity

There is so much to say about Corinne, but what I enjoy the most about her is her spirit.

2006-11-14T16:50:00.000-08:00

Rainer,
So here I meet you again hoping to be serenated by your words. Wishing to be engulfed by your passion and lifted up to the heights of your kingdom only to be lost in your arms, defenseless.
Let your words resonate loudly tonight...hear them!

You who never arrived

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of the next
moment. All the immense
images in me—the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods—
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house—, and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced upon,—
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening . . .

Ranier Maria Rilke

trans. by Stephen Mitchell

I find it extremely amazing how everything I see or hear relates to something in my life. This poem, for instance, reminds me of Esteban (Steve), the boy I was so enamoured by during a great part of my teenage years.

You who never arrived was him and the note he gave me which read:

"I hope to see you at recess time,

at the same time,

at the same place

where we first met."

The note arrived to my hands by a mutual school friend. The place was by the balcony, infront of the office. With a friend, I waited and waited until finally, I saw him coming up the stairs. From that moment on, the world seemed to move in slow motion, for I couldn't keep my eyes off of him. He came around the corner and walked towards me. It was then that my body composition changed from solid to million water molecules; I was liquid. He stood next to me with his arms extended on the rail. I couldn't move, my hand, I believe, was glued to the black iron rail. Suddenly, I felt his hand touching mine. I could feel his eyes burning on the side of my face, but I dare not look. IOnce again, I began to change and just like that, I turned into gaseous molecules and evaporated into the afternoon air.

Steve did arrived that afternoon, but I didn't stay. For a long time, after that moment, I wondered same as Rilke if "perhaps, the same birds [ever] echoed through both of us, separate in the evening..." The answer to that question I will never know for sure.

2006-11-14T16:25:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Blank...]
[Mood: Peaceful]

Slippers

No caption,
no story to tell,
only pretty slippers
what else can I say.

2006-11-08T21:26:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Wanting to go to bed, but utterly committed]
[Mood: heroic]

invincible!

Today, to my own amazement, I feel complete. I feel like I have achieved something. This is a concern that has always oppressed me, but one I decided to put behind me.

This morning, I woke up, for some reason, refreshed. Somewhere between the time I went to bed (at a relatively early hour, I might add) and REM, I had an epiphany: I needed to finish. “Finish what?” many asked at work this morning as I skipped through the halls, so amazingly content…I couldn’t believe it. Why, everything! Finish everything!

Finish all the little things dangling in my brain. …And how cute of me, for while in class, I even created a small list on two yellow sticky notes. In my best print handwriting, but not in my favorite pen (for special occasions I prefer my Mont Blanc), I wrote down 10 things I wanted to finish today with such determination, I felt proud of coming up with such a list. The title, as it is to imagine, read: Things to Do in caps just like a regular title… and underlined for more emphasis- wouldn’t want to forget.

Oh, the little pleasures in life…

Unfortunately, I received a called. The little one was sick and I needed to pick her up. Isn’t that typical that something would come in my way of “finishing”, but experience has taught me to not let “rudeness” get to me. And yes, I’m talking about the one and only Murphy- the rudest one of all.

Once at home, I took care of the little one and began to concentrate on my little list. I reached in my back pocket, got the sticky notes out and began to review them. One by one, I did and completed each task, and it made me feel great! How could I have waited so long before? I thought to myself! But I dared not punish myself with the questioning. All that mattered was that I had, finally, finished a good part of the things I felt were unfinished in my life. Eureka!

So now, at almost midnight, I sit here, listening to some beautiful classical music, thinking about my day and feeling invincible.

Good morrow!

2006-11-07T15:35:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Watching the most hideous show EVER!]
[Mood: Confused]

Mc.Donald's Complex
Swing, Swang, Swing, Swang... what was that blurry image hidding in the back?

Favorite socks and sneakers with a bit of a Mc. Donald's complex.

Swing, Swang, Swing, Swang...

Now I see it, now I can't. I better catch it while I can.

Swing, swang, swing, swang...

You can't catch it

It is now mine!

2006-11-06T19:52:00.000-08:00

[Currently: Thinking how this week, I feel, presents a series of good prospects: light, wealth and contentment. At least that’s what I want to believe.]

[Mood: Neutral]

Tomorrow never comes

The Disappearance

For an entire week now I’ve been away from everything and everyone I cared for. Considering the anti-social mood I was in, I didn't have any desire to invest my energy on others fearing I would be misinterpreted as rude and arrogant Still, the few contacts I had with people proved to be quite abrasive, even though, I didn’t even open my mouth- for that I’m sorry.

Hermitos syndromeda

(Pron. Hur-mitus sin-drohm-i-duh )

(Def. Hermitos syndromeda: Desire to stay in complete mental isolation from people. Mainly idiots who make no sense, ungrateful people who can not seem to be the exact opposite of what they are, and rude conditional people whose fear of letting go prevents them from being real.)

In spite of my Hermitos Syndromeda -like mood (term created by me), I had planned to go, on Saturday, to the one thing that helps me to focus and relax: Kung Fu. I woke up at 7 a.m. only to find my house in complete silence and host to a very loud snoring guest, my brother. George had apparently decided to spend the night after a long night shooting at some club; I didn’t dare to disturb the sleeping kings comfortably lying on each one of the sofas- silence and solitude have always appealed to me much better which compelled me to keep quiet as much as possible and for as long as possible.

Prelude 1
At around 8 a.m. or so, the house finally awoke. Gladly, by then, I had already showered and dressed. While the guys animatedly recalled the events of the night before, I sneaked out of the house. Once outside, I found the morning a little too chilly for my taste. Still, I stood at the edge of my deck, took a deep breath and filled my lungs with morning air. I felt invigorated, but also very cold! Prrrr!!! Enough of that! I ran to the car, put the heater on and drove away.

Intermission: Time warp
Once inside the building, I could hear the guys playing basketball and felt relieved, for I was 7 minutes late. All my watches and clocks have a different time. The microwave clock, the one I usually go by says, for example: 8:10 p.m.(the time I drop these lines in actuality); my watch says 8:15 p.m., and the car clock says something in between. During the week, it feels like I’m in a time warp. I get out of one place thinking I’m late only to find out I’m still 2 minutes ahead, to then realize that I’ve lost 3 minutes from the time I turned the car on and the time the announcer, on Dave Fm, tells the time, to arriving at work with 2 minutes on time. This is a science I haven’t been able to master…well, that’s until I synchronize my times to the clock of all clocks: the Atomic Clock. Perhaps time will wait for me tomorrow.

Prelude 2
I’m not sure, but the guys must have just lined up for class as I arrived. We started class, and I immediately wished I had not gone (but there were people I wanted to see). Due to my back problems, I had not practiced in more than a month and felt extremely “limbolistically jaded.” (The title to one of my early entries.) The feelings of disconcert, combined with a mild back pain and runny nose put me in a crabby mood, one that could not be missed. Beau, of all people noticed it and wondered if I was ok. Was I?

Through a window, once again…
“Beau” happens to be one of those exceptional persons we all come across, in one way or another, that touch our lives, for some reason or another, and become people we admire and in a way love and adore. He happens to be mine and that is no secret. The question is: What attributes a person to be found a worthy of admiration? That part rests, in its entirety, on the eyes of the beholder…

Spar me, spar me not!
After an almost unanimous request, the guys convinced me to attempt a little sparring; therefore, Beau and I engaged in something of that sort. Growing up with two brothers, I’m sure I must have sparred at some point or another, but nothing to the level I’m now required to engage in Kung Fu. Beau was kind enough to hold me through the entire time and shared with me some of his “Chinese secrets” to win fights. I think he truly believes in me; no, I actually know he does. At any rate, after some unstructured moves from my part; the best I could think of, I said, no more. By then, my back was truly hurting me. Spar me, spar me no more…

End: if only
Having in mind my next engagement, I advised everyone of my early departure. In reality, I needn’t leave until 11, but after experiencing my lame performance, I decided to put a toll to my torturous moves and leave early. If only I had stayed.

Once an architect, always... in your blood
The rest of the day, starting from the time I left class until the next morning, at 10:00 a.m. was relatively fine, I suppose. I arrived at Bets house at around 11 a.m. only to be excitingly welcomed by Bow- Bets inherited golden retriever. We hung out for a few minutes while I scanned the rooms I needed to decorate. After all these years, I still have an eye for architecture and design and take true pride at the fact that I can eye-measure anything to almost perfection and without any formal measurement, it is in my blood I have always said. After close observation, it was decided that we needed to find some extra prints, lamps and a few accessories.

Minutes later, we departed and embarked in a shopping adventure that lasted 10 long hours! What those 10 hours left us with were almost $800.00 dollars worth of exquisite merchandise, I cleverly arranged in her room upstairs. After all, if I plan to be an assiduous guest at her house I should work really hard at making my room as suitable as possible, right? I achieved exactly that, for her fiancée, a person so set in his ways, who has prohibit Bets to do any kind of decorating without consulting, first, with their professional decorator, praised me to no end after seeing what I had accomplished in such a short time. Later, even asked if I could help in other rooms- a true compliment to me, I might add.

Sunday bloody sunday
And I close this entry with the memory of what Sunday was like, and the little beam of light that reflected upon me that day because everything else, from the moment I arrived, sat on the last row only to be utterly ignored by one insignificant person sitting before me, to the feelings of contention I felt after being so openly ignored, to serving my purpose in the library, to deciding to sit quietly in the sitting room until classes ended was excruciating. No one, but one person me aside from Sting, who actually found the way to flea the building under some kind of pretence, came to talk to me. It was Beau who likes to always appear before me like some kind of divine apparition out of nowhere. Do not take me wrong, a divine apparition indeed, but why must he be so stealthy?

Beam of light

-…I’m very unhappy here.

- I can see that.

- I’m just tired of people not having manners. And it is not that I want to make friends here, I have all my friends outside this place. I’m just tired/ [sick] of people not having any manners.

- …What would make you happy? (Can I really say? “You can’t handle the truth!” – A Few Good Men-Correction)

- I don’t know. Moving to Utah, St. George… [among other things…]

- I didn’t like Utah.

- I did. I have all my friends there...

Minutes later, Sting arrived, and the conversation shifted to music and painting, it was, anyway, too serious of a conversation to carry in such a public place, but do I really care to be heard? No, not really. I think having passer-by hear my discontent would only help the situation get better. However, in spite of it all, I do have manners and respect the fact that some could find offense in my comments so there! After all, my mother did raise me right.

Minutes later after that, Beau stood up and disappeared the same way he appeared exiting through the light.

There is never tomorrow
Today’s day is long gone and tomorrow will come only to be consumed by today’s memory of yesterday. These words are already there.

2006-10-24T20:41:00.001-07:00

[Currently: Watching the dog scratch...]
[Mood: peaceful]

Epiphany: Stuck in a moment…

This morning, I had an epiphany as I was getting ready to take the dogs out in the rain! I thought about your talk which I must say felt like you were pointing right at me, since my entire life is filled with trials and tribulations, but then it clicked; it finally clicked! I realized that perhaps some of the (so called) “trials” I come across are not really trials. Perhaps they are erroneous renditions of what I believe them to be when in fact they are life’s way of taking its course and I just happen to get caught in the middle of its path.

So there I was (this morning), glancing outside my bedroom window, watching the rainfall and getting mentally prepared to get wet; I began to murmur. “There we go…” I said to myself. “Of course it has to rain when I’m here by myself. Why didn’t it rain last week when I wasn’t in charge?” That’s when I became enlightened. Why blame the rain for my misfortune, I thought. Why can’t I just call it a coincidence that I happened to decide to take the dogs out when it was raining? Anyway, the rain had been falling long before I decided to take the dogs out.

That's when I remembered the talk in which you said how you haven’t had many trials in your life and thought: Perhaps the reason why you haven’t is because you simply go with the flow. You find no faults (I know you said you don’t do guilt trips), no blames and simply carry on with your life; you let life take its course. (Note: I’m sure there’s a religious perspective to this topic; however, I do not care to engage on that side of the conversation but we know it is there.)

So, like I said, perhaps not everything in my life is or has to be a trial, per se. I mean, I have always known that, but I guess I finally realized that it is up to me to decide in which direction I desire to allow the situation to end up. For example: If you’re optimistic with strong, positive convictions, things will be ok. On the other hand, if you’re pessimistic and think the world is against you, then that’s exactly what you will get. Robert Ford once said: “If you think you can or if you think you can’t, you’re right.” And you know what? He was completely right.

(Having this epiphany will ease the load I feel pressing upon my shoulders, that's for sure. )

You know what I have gone through more than anyone else. You know how I have come close to loosing my faith, but just as I begin to slip down, I focus and collect myself. I think that in a way, I feel it is my responsibility to find the optimistic person inside me and bring her out to the surface, in order to stay afloat. If I don’t do it, nobody else will.

U2 has a song I really like- you have probably heard it before. This song helps me find strength each and every time I feel like the entire world is against me. Each time my pessimistic side tries to get the best of me. It is called Stuck in the Moment…

I'm not afraid

Of anything in this world

There's nothing you can throw at me

That I haven't already heard

I'm just trynna' find

A decent melody

A song that I can sing

In my own company

I never thought you were a fool

But darling, look at you.

Ooh.You gotta stand up straight,

carry your own weight

'Cause tears are going nowhere baby

You've got to get yourself together

You've got stuck in a moment

And now you can't get out of it

Don't say that later will be better

Now you're stuck in a moment

And you can't get out of it

I will not forsake

The colors that you bring

The nights you filled with fireworks

They just left you with nothing

I am still enchanted

By the light you brought to me

I listen through your ears

Through your eyes I can see

You are such a fool

To worry like you do.. Oh

I know it's tough

And you can never get enough

Of what you don't really need now

My, oh my

You've got to get yourself together

You've got stuck in a moment

And you can't get out of it

Oh love, look at you now

You've got yourself stuck in a moment

And you can't get out of it

I was unconscious, half asleep

The water is warm 'til you discover how deep

I wasn't jumping, for me it was a fall.

It's a long way down to nothing at all

You've got to get yourself together

You've got stuck in a moment

And you can't get out of it

Don't say that later will be better

Now you're stuck in a moment

And you can't get out of it.

And if the night runs over

And if the day won't last

And if your way should falter

2006-10-24T20:34:00.001-07:00

Short and Sweet

I abhor the way in which time passes in front of me sweeping, with its force, everything dear to me. I wish I could stop it, take a leap, and land there...beside you, uninterrupted by time.

2006-09-07T23:36:00.000-07:00

[Currently: Listening to Pride and Prejudice’s sountrack]
[Mood: The most content of moods…]

Mr. Darcy. Oh, Mr. Darcy…

and so today, I came to discover that I’m still... a girl. Yes, yes, I had to choose this one among all other ones because, well, I love this film; I love everything about it. Yes, Pride and Prejudice won among all other choices much less…girlie, I suppose; I simply and absolutely had to have it.

I’m a sucker for 1700 and 1800’s films which is why after I returned the Madonna CD my dear friend Betsy had given me (yet another thing she buys and does not care to keep); I had to get this film. Initially, I considered getting Keane’s new CD, but I couldn’t find it, and anyway, why would I invest on it when CD’s can, these days, be so easily downloaded? Oh, no! By far, the choice was Pride and Prejudice.

Goodness, I’m sure the gayest, but an extremely gay gal tonight with this film I adore so much (and I do use the term “gay” as in being happy). Oh, and the score; the captivating score is such a delight to my ears. I remember when the film first came out, and I literally skipped work just to go see it at the theatre. I suddenly became “sick” (headache or something of that sort) and had to go “home.” (I went to the theatre right there on [...]Parkway.) Although I adore the film, it is not the best version of Pride and Prejudice, but their rendition of Mr. Darcy in definitely worth watching. He is simply enthralling to me. Yep! Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy, Lizzie, humor and romance…Absolutely! I do proudly declare that above all, I’m still a…

Girl.

2006-07-29T09:20:00.000-07:00

IL Mare

So I just finished watching the film Il Mare (Italian for “The Sea”). Il Mare is the original Korean version of the movie The Lake House. When the Lake House was first advertised, I had contemplated the idea of going to see it. I mean, the trailer seemed great. The actors Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock, who I find both appealing, were working together in this movie about a lake house, a relationship through time, and a “magic” mailbox, all packed up, sealed and delivered with the music of Keane (Somewhere Only We Know). No doubt the trailer seemed lovely (the kind of movie or chick-flick some women attack like vampires.), until I did some research information and
discovered it was a re-make of Il Mare.

I have never been a really big fan of Hollywood movies. (And notice I said movie, for there is a difference between films and movies.) For me, it has always depended on the story to determine whether I’ll like the movie or not. Some movies belong to Hollywood and are indeed good movies, but others
are perfectly fitted under the Independent, Sundance film world. These notions lead me to believe that the Lake House would simply be too big of a re-make for a small Korean film. So, I decided to go for Il Mare first.

Overall, I’m satisfied with the film. It was a little slow and the fact that it was dubbed in another language with English subtitles bothered me at times, but in general, once my mind excluded all those little issues( common in foreign films), the film actually turned out to be pretty good. I also liked the fact that the story between the characters was not over- melodramatic. . (I know the Lake House would have been, and 100% chick-flicks, for me, are out of the question.) I enjoyed the simplicity of the characters because it helped to me believe the story that a mailbox could indeed be the gate to time travel and the reason why these two people met.

My favorite part, though, was the house, Il Mare. The house was an absolute piece of art. A bit compact, some might argue, but beautiful in design. Take this comment from a person who once thought about becoming an architect and left the field to become a simple teacher. Heh, I actually spent half of the time looking behind the characters to absorb the architectural layout of their living spaces.

In conclusion, Il Mare was a winner for me and after watching it, I doubt I’ll ruin the experience by going to see The Lake House. Sorry Keanu. L

2006-07-23T22:45:00.000-07:00

[Currently: Enjoying the fact that my classes are over.]
[Mood: happy]

Farewell, Pacu

(Dedicated to the fish I accidentally poisoned and to all the other fish that went along with them to the Bermuda Triangle Heaven.)

Horrific, Horrific, Horrific!!!

What is that smell? I thought to myself. A faint smell of sea water circulated the air as was putting the finishing touches to my PowerPoint presentation. Yeah, more like copying and pasting from the last assignment I had done just 4 days ago. What’s the deal, it had all the information I needed for the final and it dealt with my topic. I just added a few pictures here and there (to kinda change the scenery…), used another background and…. Stop, wait a minute! I’m supposed to dedicate this page to the memory of Pacu. How rude of me!

Anyway, I stood up from my chair and walked to the fish tank until a slap to the face stopped me. Holy cows and goats..!!! As I approach the deadly smell (I could feel a headache being drilled on the left side of my brain), with a hand covering my nose and mouth, I noticed there was a dead fish lazily floating toward the front of the tank. There you are stinker! I said point at it with my finger. Gotcha!

I rapidly walked to the kitchen and looked in the cabinet underneath the sink where all the fish stuff is “supposed” to be to look for the net. It wasn’t. I walked the family room and looked inside the piece of furniture for the other fish tank, now empty and sitting on the side of the deck, waiting who-knows-what, but didn’t find anything. Finally, desperate to take the now “fluff” out of the tank, I went to the laundry area and found the net above the cabinets. Voila! I put my mask back on (that is, my hand over my nose and mouth) and went to face the enemy. Oh, yeah, I got you little stinker!

As if holding an atomic bomb, I ran (“like the speed of sound”) to the bathroom, in tippytoes, of course. Once there, I lifted the toilet seat and scooped the thing out of the net…or so I thought, for the little slimy fluff was still attached to it. (Just thinking about it makes me gag!) Its spine was holding on to life on earth, I guess. So I hit the net several times against the seat with the utmost discuss (squinting my eyes as I did it), but the thing would not fall out. Finally, I took a piece of toilet paper (layered it several times) and freed the thingy for “our” misery and flushed the toiled. So long little buddy…

I took a deep breath and went to back to the tank to check on all the other fishies, that’s when I noticed that the smell was still there. Oh no! The filter was extra-super dirty to no end!! What should I do? What should I do? I lifted the filter out of the device only to stir up more slimy stuff all over the water. Great, [dragonfly]! Only you…only you… (Hmm… I felt like strangling someone…but who? Who could have possible left on a business trip without changing the filter in the tank? Who?) Oh brother! I didn’t know the first thing about these fish, for they are not supposed to be my responsibility, but there I was and there they were, swimming in filth. I had to try to help, right? It was either that or dying from a headache.

In desperation, I called a friend on the phone we’ll call [Jen], (*hehe*) “professional fish tank cleaner.” She gave me great advice and even offered to come over, but I couldn’t possibly do that to her, so I told her I would call her only if I needed her to lend me a hand.

So I took the dirty filter out of the device thingy (whatever it is called) and attempted to clean it? Yeah, that question mark is not a grammatical error, for I had no idea what the heck I was doing? (again, not an error). Well, yeah… that didn’t work. So, I began to look for any new filters. Looked all over, but since the fish are not my responsibility (allow me to reinstate that fact), I didn’t know where to look. After an agonizing 30 minutes or something, I found the filters in a box, above the laundry room cabinets, again! (My goodness, what a popular place…) Man, I have never been happier!!! Yeah, yeah!!! “Wait I second fishies (I actually exclaimed) I will save you, just wait a second until I put…” Ummm…how do you put this together?” Aha! Did you guess? I didn’t know how to put the filter, so I had to take the old one out of the trash, look at it and see how it was supposed to be put together. After a while, I think I had it right.

Then, as suggested by sweet [Jen] (before continuing with the story I must say that I don’t think she meant for me to clean it the way I did. I did all that by myself.), I took the actual device out of the fish tank, brought it to the kitchen sink and began to rinse the slimy stuff off. The only thing is that it wouldn’t come out so… I used…soap? (Yes, I know, I know…I now know… I thought I had removed and rinsed all the soap off. I know! But to my defense, how was I supposed to know, I had never cleaned the tank before. [...] I didn’t know, I truly didn’t know! )

So I happily took my super extra cleaned filter device, placed it in the fish tank and literally told the fishies they would now be fine, went back to my chair, placed the laptop on my lap and continued my work.

10 minutes later…

Splash! Splash! Splash! I turned around and saw that the fish were really hyper. I turned back around to continue working. Splash! Splash! Splash! Boom! Turned around to look at the tank and saw that the Pacus were really getting psycho, they kept hitting the top of the fish tank... The third time, I hear something hitting the floor and Clair running to get it.

-Clair, stop! I turned around and saw one of the Pacus on the floor near the tank squirming for air. I couldn’t believe it; the thing had actually kicked itself out of the tank! Wow! That’s how dirty the water was, I thought. (I know. Shame on me…The poor thing was fighting for its life.) So I ran to the kitchen, grabbed a bowl and something to scoop with, and while screaming like a little girl, I was able to finally put the thing in the bowl and into the water. Well, once there, Pacu # 1 didn’t move much and was swimming upside down? Oh, no, no, no!!! I didn’t get him on time from the floor, I thought. But he’ll get better; I said aloud and went back to my work.

Five minutes…

The other Pacu began to act psycho. I’ll spare you the details, but you guessed it, it also died. Then, the little “American Flag” bully began to act psycho and it also died. To my own amazement, I couldn’t think of what had happened, so I left them there while I called “someone” to tell my story and that’s when I became sadly enlightened:

- You should have changed the filter before you left on your trip. I don’t know the first thing about those fish and now they’re all dead. Well, not all, but the Pacu and…

- The Pacu!?

- Yeah, they died 10 minutes after I washed the filter and put it in. But I promise I washed it really well. It had slimy stuff all over it.

- You washed the filter? How?

- With water…and soap.

- ..And soap?! You washed the filter with soap and then put it in the tank?

- Yeah, it was really slimy and I made sure I removed all the soap. I rinsed it really well.

- Oh man! [Dragonfly], you poisoned the fish. You poisoned them!

- I did not! And anyway, if you had changed the filter before you left…

- …They would have survived fine in there for 4 more days until I came back, [...]

- …But the water was beginning to smell really badly. It is now beginning to clear up.

- You’re not joking, right?

- About what?

- The fish. Are they really dead? All of them?

- No, actually, the two that stick to the tank are still alive and the other one that got really big eating the little fishies, remember? Well, he’s still alive. And then there’s this other one. I have never seen it before, a really small one..? I don’t know how or where he came from, but he’s there too.

- Well, I’m glad they’re at least some alive. (Tone spilled sarcasm)

- I hope you’re not mad at me. I tried my best. You know I didn’t know the first thing about that so…at least the water is back to normal, almost. I tried. This has been traumatic to me. I had to scoop that Pacu from the floor and then scooped them out after they died…Horrifying!

- It fine...

- I’m sorry….

So the tank is now pretty empty with the exception of the “sticky” ones and the “eat-a- lot” one and the little one I had no idea lived there, but to the memory of the “involuntarily” poisoned Pacu I say:

Sorry, for causing you such a horrifying death. I wish I had known how to clean your tank, but to my defense, your master should have done that before leaving, otherwise, you would still be alive and kicking. Rest in peace Pacu…

Not a story to be proud of, but like I said, they call me Dragonfly, not SUPER DRAGONFLY…! K

2006-07-20T22:13:00.000-07:00

[Currently: Listening to Nacho Cano]
[Mood: mixed]

Remembering Mecano…

There’s nothing better than starting your day by finding money. As I was trying to find my headphones, I found 20 bucks in one of my bag’s pockets! I’m rich! I’m rich! Maybe I’ll buy some “starfish and coffee, maple syrup and jam with a side order of ham.” I’m still smiling…

I’m presently taking a small mental break from all the work I have to do today. I’m not leaving here and plan to finish my Sunday’s assignment today. I can’t afford to have the weekend to work on this when I have almost 4000 words to write and two 15 page each PowerPoint presentations due for next week. I already feel like I’m going to have a heart attack as it is. I feel so overwhelmed…But no more school talk. These 15 minutes of mental break are to clear the mind and not to be wasted on school stuff.

I ordered the uniform yesterday. The total came out to be $35.00. Since I wasn’t sure about the size, I ordered a medium. I’m hoping that it will fit relatively close and that, if needed, I would only have to do some small alterations. They also had the shoes (used by monks and I believe it because they’re the same brand), but I think I’ll wait on that. First, I first need to see if the outfit fits. It should be here next week.

I think I might be ready to share with you a new CD with you. Let me give you a little background:

Without any reservations and I can assure you that if you ask a Spanish person if they have heard about them, they will say yes, Mecano was the greatest urban rock band ever created. I don’t think there’s anybody on the face of the earth (of Spanish or Hispanic descent) that hasn’t loved their music. I am one of those people. They are a true gem, and I am not exaggerating.

Mecano was a Spanish (from Spain) band that started up during the early 80’s. It was composed of Nacho Cano, Jose Maria Cano and Ana Torroja (a true mermaid voice). Together, they put composed the most amazing music that to this day are regarded as the best in all Urban Rock.
To understand the excellence of their sound you needn’t understand Spanish, but just have good ears. You’re a musician, so I know you would absolutely appreciate the density of their music from an instrumental standpoint. Oh, but if you could understand the lyrics…the lyrics are another wonderful world. The lyrics are yet another piece of their greatness. They all tell a story; a significant story that managed to touch all of us.

Jose Maria was in charged of the lyrics while Nacho was in charge of the music and Ana Torroja (our beloved Ana) was the singer in charge of making all the songs immortal- and so she did.

Sadly, Mecano is no longer in existence. I think their last album came out in 2002, but their legacy carries on from generation to generation. These days, they have all taken their own paths and are working on their own projects. But we want them back. All over the world, there are Websites dedicated to ask them to come back and do what they all three know what to do best. They’re a true phenomenon.

The music I will share with you is from Nacho Cano who is, without a doubt, the most ingenious Spanish composer ever born. There is no one that can create music with the same passion, no one. He is such a renowned composer that the King of Spain asked him to compose the music for one of his children’s wedding. His music, these days, is mostly instrumental. He was never up for singing but was instead the master mind behind all the success of Mecano, for he was he one who created their immortal sound. (The one I will share is his first one after Mecano. Un mundo separado por un mismo Dios- “A world separated by a same God.” )

Ok, so my time is up. I must resume my studies and hope that my brain doesn’t explore from frustration. I hope you have a good day at work and a relaxing evening at home.

Until next time…

2006-07-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

Balsac and the Little Chinese Seamstress

Today, and after several failed previous attempts, I finished watching the short Chinese film Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress. In essence, the film is about a young Chinese girl, we only know as the “little seamstress,” and how her life was changed by Balzac and his friends.

The little seamstress was transfigured by the works of French novelist Honoré de Balzac who was widely admired by his sensitivity towards human nature.
She was first introduced to his work by two young boys who had been sent to her remote and primitive village to be re-educated. Captivated by both her natural beauty and simplicity, they began to teach her everything they know about the outside world. They talked about Mozart, Western customs, Europe…things she had never been exposed to, for she had never gone beyond the small town near her village.

One day, the two young men stole a series of foreign novels forbidden by the government from another young man who was being re-educated. Afraid of being found out, they hid the books in an isolated cave they named the Book Grotto. Everyday, two boys would go into the cave and read to the “little seamstress” the foreign novels. Everyday for almost an entire year, they read to her. Little did they know that these stories; these novels were slowly changing the little seamstress’ outlook on the world she lived in. Suddenly, her little world in the village had become insignificant in comparison to the world described by Balzac; a world she now knew was separated only by her will to find it.
The day she decided to leave her village she was encountered by one of her friends who asked her:

- “Who changed you?”

-“Balzac,” she replied and left.

2006-07-16T23:29:00.000-07:00

[Currently: The only one still up]
[Mood: Neutral]

The Ancient State of Vegetation

I finished my Sunday’s assignment at 8:45 p.m., and at 8:47 p.m. it was being posted as an attachment. I had accomplished my goal and needed to be rewarded. My choice for a reward: vegetating for an entire hour.

The dictionary describes the state of vegetation or vegetation as:

1. The process of growth in plants. (not it)

And as:

2. An abnormal bodily growth or excrescence, especially a clot composed largely of fused blood platelets, fibrin, and sometimes bacteria that is adherent to a diseased heart valve. (Absolutely NOT it!)

Bloody gross! “An abnormal bodily growth…?!” I can assure you I’m not growing any “excrescence” (whatever that means) in my body. On the contraire, the state of vegetation is an ancient sacred ritual to cleanse the soul from all impurities and to unify the body and min….oh, I was only joking, but it sounds good, huh? Anyway, vegetating to me means to literally reach a complete vegetable state by not talking, moving, being concerned or eating.

So at 9 p.m. sharp, I closed all the windows I had been working on (7 to be exact), logged out, placed the laptop next to the T.V., stood up from my chair, took two steps forward, turned my body around, place my glasses above my head, and landed (back first) on the sofa. Once there, I found no need to reposition myself, for I didn’t want to move which is, if I may add, the first state of vegetation.

In my mind, I closed all instincts to listening, to hearing; I blocked all sounds, movements and surroundings. I looked for a steady place to fix my eyes upon and found the ceiling fan to be the most appealing to satisfy the purpose. For a moment, a very quick moment, I tried to follow it in its circular voyage, but the velocity was too fast for my eyes to stop the blades. Even better, I thought to myself, I’ll just look at the blurry circumference it leaves behind and so, that’s exactly what I did.

During my ancient vegetating state, I thought of a zillion things: how silent and smooth the fan was, how many boards were on the ceiling, how perfect the temperature was: not too cold and not too warm, just perfect, and how I couldn’t stop thinking about things even though all I wanted to do was not think anything at all. I just kept thinking about the day, church…, home, the day before…, but never anything of great concern. Annoying, but how do you stop it, right? You don’t. You just go with the flow.

At some point, during all the pondering, I managed to fall asleep. I’m trying to remember if I dreamt about something (I’m pretty sure I did), but I guess my state of relaxation was such that my mind blocked any trace of it. Then, at exactly 10 p.m. (I was later informed), one of the dogs, as if knowing I only wanted to vegetate for one hour, woke me up by licking my face. Puff!! Pretty gross and so bloody unexpected..!

Incredible! I couldn’t believe it! I had done it! I had enjoyed one entire hour of uninterrupted rest. I had fallen into a deep stage of vegetation worthy of being admired by Mr. Potato Head, Vegetaman or the Dalai Lama… (?) and that made me happy. So, I stoop up from the sofa, stretched out my arms, took two steps forward, borrowed the laptop, sat down on my chair, put on my headphones, logged in under my username, opened Microsoft Word and began to write this. It’s 11 p.m….

July 16, 2006

2006-07-08T19:24:00.000-07:00

This hand and Pen

This hand and pen

stand still like water.

Words have ceased

to come my way.

I close my eyes

to picture feelings;

they lay silently saturated

in the walls of my memory,

hopelessly awaiting...

Moments spent together

slowly setting down like the sunset

and of changing hues of dark blue

and chocolat...

Could I ask of you

one simple thing?

Reach in memory and soul

the deepness of my being

the deepness of my being

and before I catch

my next breath

let's become one......

And hold this hand and pen

and make them write of

things forgotten;

things I loved

before I lost

you in the past.

2006-06-13T07:10:00.000-07:00

And I will begin this entry as if already in topic...

…Conan, the Future Boy, I think it translates into English- one of Hayao Miyasaki’s first mini-series.
Growing up was full of Chinese and Japanese influences in the form of animation. From Heidi, to Candy Candy, the world of children my age was transfigured into wonderland by these personages that used to captivate us so profoundly. At school, it presented an infinite topic of conversation and debate of whether Candy Candy would see Terry again, or a battle of who was stronger: Astro-Boy or Mazinger. Back then, our lives were free of malice and viciousness. We had no need of wanting to know more about live other than what was to be a child. Forget the reality imposed on regular TV, the violence, the news…we had our own little worlds to conquer.

Conan was one the first mini-animation series that left a lasting imprint in me, and one of the first times I began to enjoy the work of Miyasaki. Of course, back then, I didn’t care about whom the creator of the series was; those are not things children care much about. What mattered was being ready to tune in and enjoy in partially complete silence the show- a little kick to my brother’s behind would usually stop him from interrupting my concentration, as I sat glued to the television.

The story of Conan was unique: The world had come to an end due to the stubbornness of mankind. And as a result, the entire earth had been covered in water and only but a few thousand lives were spared. Conan’s parents were among those saved. Before the catastrophic event, they had embarked on a flying ship (Miyasaki’s obsession for flying objects has always prevailed in all his films.) that had later crashed on the island due to technical malfunctions. The island was nothing more than the tip of a mountain, water had not fully covered. Many years passed by before Conan was born. And in the story, we meet Conan when he was around 10-12 years old. By then, only he and his “grandpa” remained alive in the island.

Conan was strong and mighty. He could hold his breath under water and capture great white sharks with great ease and dexterity. As a matter of fact, the most memorable part of the series is the beginning, in which he dives to the bottom of the ocean (in search of the great white shark), and the viewer can see the magnitude of the devastation. Carcasses of buildings, empty cars and buses everywhere… an entire city, we imagine once alive and full of people, erased from the face of the earth and completely covered underwater. It was amazing!

The development of the series continues as Conan finds an unconscious little girl by the shoreline. The girl’s name is Lana. To Conan, the sight of the Lana was extraordinary, for he had never seen a girl before in his life. As a matter of fact, he had never seen any other humans, other than his “grandpa.” Later, soldiers arrived to the island to capture Lana and in the process Conan’s “grandpa” dies. Defeated, Conan and Lana are held hostage and put on a plane, but not for long, for that’s when the real adventure begins as he promises to forever guard the life of her new friend from danger.

Hayao Miyasaki’s influence in my childhood helped me to preserve some of the purity and innocence that comes from being a child. All his stories have always been portrayed through the characters of children which are the most wholesome creatures we hold.

These days, and for more than 30 years now, he continues to stay integral to his principles and to bring the innocent world of children into perspective in animation films such as: Heidi, Nausicaa, Laputa-Castle in the sky, Princess Mononoke, Kiki’s Delivery Service, Spirited Away and his most recent one, Howl’s Moving Castle. All of them presented with his distinctive signature message of honesty, integrity, innocence and love only a child can express.

For all those reasons and many more, Hayao Miyasaki is my favorite anime director of all times.

I hope you enjoyed this entry.

See ya later!

2006-06-09T14:59:00.000-07:00

Prelude to a Trampoline

[mood: content]

[Currently: ignoring my surroundings]

Thursday…yeah! This week has been completely agonizing for me and will continue to be until the end of this week, on Sunday. (That is, until I start a new week on Monday.) School has me glued to the computer, replying, debating, laughing, posting, sending assignments and waiting…Yes, waiting! The wait… oh, the wait! It is the wait what makes everything that much more unbearable. On dial-up, I can see my minutes, my hours, and my days all melt away like butter. The uploading of pages; the downloading of pages; the disconnecting; the re-connecting, it all involves giving away 30, 40, 60 minutes of my life. And my hands perpetually holding my head as I wait for things to appear on the screen... But it isn’t always a constant state of vegetation because from time to time, I do throw my hands in the air (as if I don’t care) whenever I “click” and…voila! The page I need actually decides to upload! It’s all about the little pleasures in life, you know. …Like my affinity towards crisp receipts…

These days, there aren’t too many places left that will give you a crisply printed receipt. And I’m talking about the actual paper ones, not the facsimile textured ones. Those are the ones that you don’t even hear printing and they’re already being handed to you (“Next..!”); all rolled up like a papyrus. They’re the ones that if you want to check on what you purchased (to make sure your total is correct, etc.), you have to unroll like an ancient manuscript in order to read it. How are people supposed to put those things in their wallets? And you know what else? They fade. I think the fact that these receipts fade after 30 or so days is a conspiracy by retail stores for us (the procrastinators) not to return or exchange merchandise. No receipt, no exchange/no money back, you know?
No, I’m not talking about those annoying rollie thingies, I’m talking about the finely printed paper ones that come out of the cash register, unrolled and nicely cut. These are the ones that you wait for to print. (You can actually hear the printer going line by line, creating little dots of ink on the paper, and rhythmically creating characters, words and Sku numbers) And when they come out of the printer, they come out straight up, pre-cut and ready for the clerk to hand it to you with a smile. “Thank you, and come back”, they say. You bet I’m coming back, I think to myself, as I put my nicely crisp receipt flat inside my wallet. Want to see a happy customer? Give me a crisp receipt and you will see me smile.

2005-11-28T17:23:00.000-08:00

Five Minutes in Time and in Space.

Five minutes in time and in space;
gravitational pull at my feet.
I am looking from outside the “box”…
Today, I dare to capture a blink of endlessness.

At dawn and in mid traffic,
better now than never.
Hues of blues and yellows
methodically dissipating
into its next day.
Oh, this Earth’s voyage can’t
and won’t escape me now.

Just five minutes looking up at infinity,
among the endless motion of humanity.
My surrounding become a blur,
and I the vortex who stands calm and still
among such madness.

I search high,
so high past the cold air filling my lungs;
past the thin clouds
laying against the virgin blue sky;
past the ozone layer’s invisible hole,
and towards the Universe,
in search for my own path.

And five minutes in time and in space
have come by me and passed me.
I look at my watch and it is 7:10 in the morning.
I am in motion once again;
however, the world seems to slow down around me.
I have five minutes to arrive at work.
I get back in my car.
I wonder if I’ll make it on time, this time…

2005-08-01T13:00:00.000-07:00

Limbolistically Jaded...

[mood: ummm...I just said it. Limbolistically jaded, hello?!]

[Currently: Getting heart attacks every time this video machine stops. I'm in complete silence and boom! It makes that little sound that makes my bloody soul jump out of my body in panic.]

*Yeah, that's me on the far left kicking it with Dante's other dudes, in limbo. Hence the term created by me: Limbolistic.*

The countdown is up! I have about 6 days before returning to school, and believe me; I am more than ready to go back. I have never been the kind of person who enjoys idling indefinitely without a purpose. My days need to be full, and after a whole entire month of freedom, believe me when I say, my purpose is DONE! I need to go back to work!

This week has been sort of ok, but sort of “out of my reach”. The a/c in my house broke, and I have been kicked out of my own house due to the high temps this bloody state is having.

During all these days, I have been confined to leaving with my parents. Not what I wanted for my last week off, but I actually, like I said, served a purpose.
Since my father was sick, I was able to assist him with whatever things he needed. Including: Cleaning out his ENTIRE yard! Yep! It is done! I did a complete overhaul on his yard. It looks wonderful!! Ha! The funny thing is that my own house needs yard work, and I have nobody to help me, but that’s ok. When the time comes, I’ll recruit everybody whether the like it or not! (Aside from my parent’s yard I helped clean out my brother’s girlfriend’s yard too. Hers is not quite as large as mine, but still, whenever the sun is shinning, my eyeballs are scorching. Doesn’t rhyme, I know.) *grins*

Now that my father is feeling better, now that EVERYBODY’S yard is looking beautiful (thanks to me) I feel…well…”limbolistically” jaded. I need to work!

There is nothing else to say…Send me to work or I shall perish in boredom!!!!

Pam, pam!

The End!

2005-07-22T19:56:00.000-07:00

Magic(a) Vanished!

[Mood: furiosa]
[Currently: deseando patearle el fuaz a cierta persona...]

He regresado de visitar el foro de donde posteaba antes de venir a blooger.com, y estoy que me lleva el demonio!!!! El blog de Magica ha desaparecido y creo saber porque.

Magica era un chico muy controversial en el board, pero a mi me caia muy bien. A magica me lo imaginaba vestido estilo punk y todo de negro con "chains" en todas partes. Su cabello talvez rapeado totalmente o pintado de algun color. Se que era estudiante en Londres y ademas de eso un gran activista de sus creencias.
La primera vez que lei algo de el sus ideas me parecieron muy particulares y peculiares. Su avatar contenia la foto de Oswald Mosley en, quizas, sus 20's. Mosley, para referencia, fue un politico britanico responsable de la fundacion de BUF(British Union of Fascist) al lado de Mussolini, y al parecer por el contenido de los varios post de Magica, una fuente de gran inspiracion para el. Aun asi, no me importo. De hecho me llamo aun mas la atencion ver que un chico tan joven (en su blog decia tener 19 anos) tuviera "pelotas de acero" para exponer sus ideales y enfrentarse contra el que viniera. En este caso una manada de "rednecks" sin nocion alguna de nada fuera de sus trailers. (Lo siento, se que sueno cruel, pero hoy estoy...astiada!)Por supuesto no todo el board esta plagado de rednecks. El board tiene miembros de todas partes del mundo que son muy buena onda.

El que una persona tengo bolas de acero para decir lo que piensa lo admiro yo sea comunista, fascista, marxista, republicano, democratico, etc. La voz de una persona es para mi siempre digna de ser escuchada aun si yo no crea en sus principios. En este caso, escuchar a Magica fue exactamente lo que hice.

A su blog le visite varias veces. Por lo que note era yo la unica persona que le visitaba. No creo que ninguno de los otros miembros imbeciles de board tendrian "anyway" la mentalidad para ver con objetividad la perspectiva de el ni entender su punto de vista. Cuando discutiamos sobre un tema, el jamas trato de imponer sus ideas en mi. Al contrario, siempre mantuvo una mentalidad abierta y un amplio entendimiento de que nuestras culturas eran totalmente diferentes y que por esta razon nunca lograriamos tener los mismos principios ni ideas. De hecho recuerdo una vez haberle comentado de que yo era, a lo mejor, la primera persona hispana con la que hablaba. El contesto que si, pero que le agradaba mucho el poder ver el otro lado del spectrum e intercambiar ideas.

Hoy, lamentablemente, este chico excepcional ya no esta en el board. Su blog ha desaparecido. Su profile aun esta alli. El que su profile este aun alli, no significa nada pues el mio tambien esta, pero yo no. Lo que borre fue mi blog. A mi blog no lo dejaba yo alli por nada del mundo. No estoy segura pero creo que el administrador le metio un "ban" y lo saco. De esto consultare con un amigo para saber exactamente que fue lo que paso.

El una vez me dijo que DM lo habia amonestado y que por un tiempo el habia salido y regresado. Me dio consejos sobre como funcionaban las cosas con el come mierda de DM y como el otro administrador, Yurei habia sido de gran ayuda durante ese tiempo. Yo pase por la misma cosa y de hecho es la razon por la cual estoy aqui. Bueno, estoy aqui por mi blog.

DM igualmente me amonesto a mi con un warning y con tanto acoso decidi mejor salirme y no tomar batalla con este estupido que solamente estaba dolido de que yo no le daba el tiempo del dia. Estoy segura de que cree el haber ganado, pero pobre infeliz, si supiera que yo he sido la triunfante al no bajarme a su nivel.

Ahora, segun me dicen amigos con los que me quede, el board no es lo mismo sin mi. Pues claro! Como no lo va a ser si esta clavado de estupidos que viven cerrados en un mundo de "yo no se que" mierda. Me parece interesante de que todos los que me extranan sean de otros paises lugares fuera de los E.U. Hmmm...me pregunto porque sera? Apuesto que la mayoria de esos estupidos son rednecks que jamas han lidiado con una persona tan versatil como yo. Yo me adapto a todo y a todos. Es mi naturaleza. Para mi es mucho mas interesante el aprender de otras culturas a quedarme metida en un circulo que vincula solamente alrededor de la ignorancia y prejuicios. Por favor, kiss my ass before I fall for that, please! Eso jamas lo haria yo! Por mis venas navegan la sangre de 3 culturas, gracias a mis ancestros, and I'm darn proud of all 3!!!!

Que me importa un comino! Lo de DM fue solamente celos. Celos de ver que le habia cortado de mi lista. El supuesto "God"(asi se refiere el de su persona. Pobre!) no logro tener poder sobre mi. Sera que le dolio que nunca lo venere como los otros miembros que le besaban el culo todo el tiempo. Ja! yo solo beso y adoro my own bloody ass! No way, yo no adoro a seres humanos, bueno a menos que sean Dali, por supuesto. Dali es siempre la excepcion a toda regla. A Dali hasta le preguntaria, quieres que te bese de arriba pa abajo o de abajo para arriba?? hehehhehehe!!!! A el con gusto!

Anyway, a mi me da igual. Ahora no estoy alli y ni siquiera extrano el lugar.

Ahhhhh!!!!Que horror! Que boca la mia!!!

Esta noche, como ya he dicho, estoy FURIOSA! Tengo excuse. Oh, y permiso especial para todos los errores ortograficos que he masacrado en este post. puff!!! No quiero ni ver!

D'fly

ps. Si averiguo que DM no tuvo nada que ver con el vanishment de Magica no me comere mis palabras. Esas han quedado dichas.

hmmm...tengo hambre....*Dragonfly stands up, finds out that from all long sitting writing this entry her butt is asleep, pads it to help blood circulate and goes to the fridge to find some grub. (moments later...) Dragonfly returns with a full tummy and smiling*

2005-07-22T11:30:00.000-07:00

A Room without a View- Me

[Mood: relaxed]
[Currently: listening to the sound of silence around me.]

This is kind of a harsh title for this entry, but it depicts exactly my sentiment. "...we don't have it. We have no view", said Mrs.. Honeychurch at the beginning of the film, their first day in Florence. That is what she said in the film, but for this entry I should perhaps say, "I have no view". Whatever the proper noun, the fact of the matter is that I am brutally disenchanted by everything and with everything. I am in decadence. There, I've said it or at least written about it. This title 'A Room without a View' serves the purpose to, like I've said, express how I feel as a whole. This first entry or part of this title I dedicate to my art, for my art is a part of me, which has also been greatly affected as well.

A plotting for the room- The studio

One thing paying the price of my disenchantment is my studio. There is where my last unfinished painting still lays on its easel hopelessly awaiting my return. But I say... no, I scream: What am I to do? I'm fed up!!! I have no passion, no desire and no inspiration to paint. I am empty! Forcing myself to enter that "room"(...) would only make me feel like an intruder, for it is my belief that if I should ever enter it again it should be with body and soul united, not just one of the two.

A couple of days ago, out of desperation, I cleaned up my studio. Throughout the months, it had served as, sort of, a storage room. My paintings and materials had slowly been consumed away by the amount of stuff I had deposited around it. I removed all boxes, furniture, gave the wooden floors a nice wash... I thought that perhaps cleaning it would awaken the wish in me to paint.
Now the question is: Have I revisit my studio since then? The answer is: No!
I have, unsuccessfully, tried to go back, but the moment I step thru the entrance my whole being morphs into iron, and I begin to feel heavy. I look around the room desperately in search of something to set a spark in me, but time after time I leave desolated, with only heaviness upon my shoulders. It is defeat all over again!

With is now without- The Muse

First of all, I need to find a muse. The last muse I found was perhaps a year or so ago. When I say muse I mean inspiration in the form of a human; it is a man, usually for me. I do not mean to discriminate against women, but a man provides me with ALL the essential ingredients that satisfy what my being desires to say and portrait in the mediums I use, such as: painting, drawing, writing, poetry, etc. With a man as a muse, I let myself be wild and feel without restrictions. Out of that wild ride, suddenly, ideas begin to emerge. Those ideas turn into more specific compositions which then transform into pieces of art, my art.What I seek for in a muse is for a feeling of warmth. Some call it butterflies, some I don't know what... The point is that if I can let myself get lost in the essence of whom I believe to be a muse, I know then I have, in fact, found one.
The relationship between an artist and his muse should always be platonic. One must NEVER touch a muse romantically, it is my belief. If you do so, then you might as well marry your muse, but then what's the purpose of that, right? The inspiration will die eventually, and once again you will be left out hanging like you were from the start. No, no, my muses are always a platonic source of stimulus and delirium.

(Now, there are always exceptions to the rule. Dali and Gala are that exception. But it goes without saying, that Dali is always the exception to any rule and so is Gala, the queen of all muses.)

So as I was saying, my last muse was a man. A man I will call Adonis, for his beauty simply took my breath away! (Exactly the purpose of a muse...) Oh, I was on a roll then....Abundance was all around me. Paintings here, drawings there, poems, short stories...but it all ended as it is to expected. His presence became more routinely to me, and the inspiration was gone. That was almost one year ago; I haven't found another muse since then.

The viewless window- My soul

Behold the analogy: If I could literally get a hold of my soul, it would look like the jalapenos I scrapped off from my green fake apple arrangement, in the kitchen, today. It would be all fuzzy, moldy, wrinkled, old and rotten. My hands would hold it by the stem with the utmost disgust as I transfer it , holding it with 2 fingers, to the trash can. There I would stand for a second as I give it one last look before clicking the trash can opening device and tossing it into the dark walls of the black trash can bag. Yep, that is what my soul at this moment: A fuzzy, moldy, old rotten jalapeno. Not to mention viewless, of course. How sad...
In all seriousness, my soul is truly somber. It needs to be fed, but not "fed up" like I feel at this moment of my life. It is constantly asking me for replenishment, but all tries have ended in failure. It doesn't matter how much money I spend thousands of dollars in art materials, if I don't learn to find my " view" it is as good as nothing. Without the "essential" ingredients, all those painting, materials and such will continue to collect dust, as is my soul.

A Room with a View- The art

It must be understood that art to me is not a job nor an obligation. Art is my passion. Without passion there is no inspiration, and without inspiration I begin to decay. Well, not exactly me per se. I'm talking about my soul, spirit and all intangible things that make us who we are. Yes, those things, the authentic, valuable things...

I will end this entry abruptly. There is no need for nice endings, for it won't change anything to "paint" some false objective or desire. I will end this with a quote I hope to learn from. "I don't care what I see outside. My vision is within. Here's is where the birds sing, here's where the sky is blue..." Mr.. Emerson- A Room With a View

I wonder if E.M. Forster ever imagined that a film of such simplicity would mean such complexity to me.

2005-07-20T20:51:00.000-07:00

An Odd Encounter…

[Mood: detached]

[Currently: La verdad es que no lo se. Currently...writing? Reading? My mind is blank!]

An odd encounter was the way you lived
In a world of words, words and words
Crossing over Orion…

Entrancing being of mystical persona
and of history entangled in your brain.
Where have you been…my friend?

An odd encounter were you, were me.
So little, so short was the pleasure…
And those words; words I treasured
have abruptly ceased to come my way.

Now it is the essence of mystique
what I treasured the most,
for the rest has left me
and in its place
uncertainty dwells instead.

Time. Oh, precious time!
What would I do without you?
Time, that generous time
will save me from remembering,
but never forgetting…you.

…An odd encounter was the way we met.
In a world of words, ancient words a

nd long gone words crossing over Orion,

between you and me.

(To the friend which could have been…
To the friend which never was…
To you…)

~DMB Jan.'05~

2005-07-18T00:37:00.000-07:00

{Entry 'parenthesis' for the one and only

Ann O'Nadada.}

Dear Ann,

Solamente queria desearte un

Feliz Cumpleanos!!!!.

Felicidades, luv!

-----'-,{@

~Dragonfly~

2005-07-17T22:19:00.000-07:00

Tat the Star

[Mood: Cool]

[Currently: Wondering why the pictures I posted are not in the order I had them.]

Ok, so this was not me getting a tat. "At least not yet.", say B. and Dj. I suppose they know me well enough to know that eventually I would want to get one. I mean, I have the history in tattoo making. Today, I settled by just looking at B get his tat of the star.

When I was in high school I always wanted to be a tattoo artist. I was capable of designing the drawings, and with Indian ink tattoo them on my friends' skin. The tattoo was not permanent, of course. With Indian ink the tat would last for up to 3 days if not washed directly with soap. Plenty of time to enjoy it without freaking out your parents.

It was funny because without even wanting, I had my "customers" come to my class(Well, actually skip their classes) to get a temporary tat. One tat used to take me about one period, that's about 45 minutes. We used to sit all the way back where our profs wouldn't see us. We really didn't worry much about them because most of them were so lazy they would never get out of their seats to check on anybody. Good for me because I had more time to work on my drawing.
Only close friends in need received the treatment. Concerts, clubs, parties were usually the excuses to get one. Since I was part of that, I understood that image was everything so I gladly did it. Gosh, the things you do to be cool. Keep in mind that I never had to do any of this to be part of any group. I was naturally cool! je,je,je!!! How is that for modesty?

After school I forgot about the whole tattoo. I concentrated more in my drawings. I've been lucky because 2 people I knew have had my drawings made into tattoos.

Ok, so it was now B's turn to get his tat. I must admit I was a bit sad it wasn't one of my creations, but again, a star is nothing from another world; anybody can draw one. As a matter of fact, the guy at the tattoo place just made a copy of the star B wanted, and voila! Behold the star!

This was B's first tat, and he was particularly excited to see me there. This whole tattoo thing was part of some sort of bet to see if he could put up with the pain. I say sort of because it was Dj the one who paid all $120.oo dollars for it. I think that officially makes Dj a darn good friend. If you don't believe me see how many friends will drop $120.00 buckaroos for you to get a tat.

The tattoo place pretty cool. It had several little rooms were saturated with all these ethnic pictures, weird designs and religious images. It almost looked to me as if all those things were merely there for decoration because I truly do not believe Jerry(the tat guy) was into La Virgen Maria nor Virgen de Guadalupe. Naw! ...don't think so! My personal opinion is that it is just a look. Sort of like the look my high school friends were after when they had me tattoo on them my drawings.

Yeah, so after 30 minutes, and $120.00 bucks later, B had his star. It is, I must admit, a really nice star. He was sored, sweating from the pain, but with the biggest smile I have ever seen him with. Who would have thought a tat could make someone that happy.

2005-07-06T22:25:00.000-07:00

If time didn't exist...

[Mood:Sleepy]

[Currently: Contemplating going to 'The cottage' soon. It's kind of late.]

Wishful thinking....

2005-07-06T16:00:00.000-07:00

You say...I say...suutele minua

[Mood: Uhhhh....]

[Currently: Ahhhh....]

Paina huules huulia vasten
kosketa mua joka paikkaan
katso syvälle silmiini
tunnetko tän hetken kauneuden

Tahdon rakastella sinua
tahdon rakastella sinua
tahdotko sinä minua

Tunnetko sykkeen sydämeni
tunnetko värinän huulillani
avaa porttis puutarhaasi
niin tulen kuin sade

Älä puhu huomisesta nyt
hiljaisuus kauneinta musiikkia on
kun me rakastelemme
jumalatkin vaikenee

D'fly

2005-07-04T23:34:00.000-07:00

30 minutes of Glory
[Mood: Neutral. Bah!!! I don't really care anymore about this stupid post. I was finally able to post these pictures after 2 days of trying! It's July 6th @ 6pm in the bloody afternoon!!!]

[Currently: Watching curb your enthusiasm.]

Yesterday was fireworks day. I must say that this is the first time I decide to go to one of these events. I am not a real fan of crowds, but after spending the whole day home, I saw no harm in going. Aside from that, I didn't want to look like the 'party pooper' when my brother's girlfriend, we will call....Shaniqua( Oh man, if she ever read this she would kill me!) came to pick me up to go. I think she came like around 6 pm, I really don't know. People always come and go, and I have no idea about the extend of time they spend in my house. I do notice their presence by the mysterious disappearance of food in my refri. Juices, cokes, and such always seem to be the first ones to disappear like...'magic'

So I found her in the living room(key word found her), and she asked if I wanted to go. Beh! I wasn't sure at first, but I said yes, sure. She hung out for a little while but then left to get something to eat. I was supposed to be ready by the time she returned. Ha! Good luck with that.

My ordeal of getting dressed had started. Why does it take so long for me to get ready to go somewhere? Why? Even I get annoyed with myself when it comes to getting dressed. First of all, if I actually looked any different than when I started things would be fine, but I don't. I look exactly the same as before, just a little crisp. Secondly, I change so many bloody times my neck starts to hurt from all the pulling out of the shirts, not to mention the bottoms...ugh!!!! Oh, but then, then there's always the hair. Should I wear it up or down? Down or up? Up or down? Sideways? Up/down? Or all three? Can't never make up my mind!!!!

To make a long story short I decided to go, after several changes, with my baby blue Ralph Lauren polo, brown skirt and sandals. Pretty comfortable considering the oven I was getting ready to endure outside. At a pretty nice thrift store I bought a little brown suede purse for 4 bucks so I gathered all my stuff and put it in it. Awww...it's so cute! It has a long strap so I can wear it just like I like it, crossed over my shoulder.

We left in 2 different cars. The overcast skies were not promising. I think it was going to rain. Traffic was fine until we began to approach the event area. At about ten blocks from the event traffic started. Tons of people began to appear walking the streets, some sitting on the sidewalks, some on the floor, some hanging from balcony windows from nearby hotel... Anyway, the only question in my mind was: Parking? Where should we park? We tried every single parking lot adjacent to the event with no luck. On top of that we lost my brother, what a pain! After 30 minutes of continuous search for a parking spot we finally found one about 5 blocks up the main street. But better than that, it was free!!!! I always love a good bargain.

We started walking not having the merest idea how to find our party. Why the heck do people have cellphones? I need to know? If you go out in a group shouldn't there be some kind of synchronizing of some sort before you leave the house? I mean, The A-Team always synchronized They always knew where to go. I mean don't have a cellphone, but I was relying on the other person to have the numbers of the other party. Nay! Had no idea whatsoever about their number. Great! So here we are in the middle of pandemonium with no a single way of contacting our stranded party. Nice! So I took his phone and began to make some calls. After several tries I found someone who knew the number of "Shaniqua". When I called she told me they were happily sitting near the event, on a blanket, and enjoying the surroundings. Oh, even nicer! *Yeah, like we're here about 5 blocks from you guys so I guess we'll see you....TOMORROW!!!* She didn't get the sarcasm; they were too relaxed to get it.

Did I mention that this was my first time actually going in person to see the big fireworks? Well, it was. Since I abhor crowds, traffic, etc. I usually enjoy it more from home. Every channel has some sort of fireworks coverage on. Its fun, and I can sit and relax in a nice temperature while sipping on a nice cold drink. But believe me, aside from all the insanity that is going to a huge event such as this one, I was happy. After a long walk and 'cellphone 'walkie talkie' talk we found them and we sat. Not long after that, at around 9:30 pm the first firework was launched into the sky and.... Boom! A beautiful arrange of colors assembled in the dark bluish skies. This first one had green, red and blue. Then another one was launched and another one and another one for about 30 minutes. Yeah, thirty minutes of pure jaw dropping beauty; thirty minutes of pure glory. It was amazing!!!! At times they actually synchronized it to music. Each pop belong to a beat and each beat to a pop. They had all sorts of formations. Some were stars, big gigantic balls, spirals, little jumping beans ones(those actually jumped in the sky), comets, ahhhh....simply breathtaking!

The last one was, of course, the biggest one. I think they just put all their fireworks together and launched them all at once without any particular order. They light up the sky so brightly it looked like it was afternoon. I could feel the pops beat against my chest; it felt like the fireworks had their own heart was beating. Then all of it stopped. The fireworks had ended. Just like that, Fourth of July had come and gone. That last firework was the end; no need to stay and wait for more. The masses of people began to gather up their belongings, some even their grills. Yeah, some people even had a grill party in the middle of the city. Thousands of people crowded the streets all headed towards their cars, and so did we.

2005-07-02T19:03:00.000-07:00

Hoy he pensado en ti, y no te he deseado dejar ir....

(Today I think about you, and haven't had the desire to let you go...)

[Mood: Peaceful]

[Currently: Carcomiendome los ojos con esta computer!]

Encontre a Dalí hoy y le dije, "Hello"! How are you, my God.
En el jardin vi algo que brillaba. Era Dragonfly que fijamente me miraba. Una hada que por alli volaba me dejo su brillo antes de partir. Que lastima! Me pregunto: Le gustaban a Dalí las hadas? Y que le paso al dia, se me nublo o fui yo? Las nubes clamaron pesadamente los cielos y el sol se fue lleno de recelo. Igual me da, a Dalí le tengo conmigo y en donde esta esta bien seguro. Oh, Dalí, Dalí... Dalí de Gala. Mirame! Estoy aqui, esperando tu llegada.

~Pinto~

~Pintas~

~Pintamos~

Dalí, mi amado.

~sigo~

~sigues~

~andamos~

los dos de lado

a lado.

Supongo que estoy a punto de emprender otro alucinamiento. Cada vez que pienso en el, siento inspiracion de volver a pintar. Aun me queda aquella pintura. La que empeze hace casi 8 meses y que ahora reposa dormida en mi estudio, colectando sucio.

Mis piernas han de estar dormidas de estar pasando tanto tiempo hacia arriba.

Ayer vinieron visitas a ver mi pintura. La baje de la pared y la volvi a tocar. Queria perderme en los colores y en Cadaques. Ojala pudiera entrar en ti y ver aquel mundo en el que vivias. En tu ojo me subiria. En tu barca me iria hacia el mar que te vio cada manana y las rocas que te saludaban. Que fastidio! Todo lo que mas admiro esta ya muerto o muy lejos!! Va, por lo menos te llevo dentro, Dalí. Alli no cambia nada. Prometo entretenerte con pinceladas y lienzos blancos para que pintes a Gala.

2005-06-30T20:14:00.000-07:00

A ver, a ver...

[Mood:I don't know...]

[Currently: Vegetating,apathetic, bum, careless, comatose, dallying, dilatory, drowsy, dull, flagging, heavy-footed, idle, inattentive, indifferent, indolent, inert, lackadaisical, laggard, lagging, languid, languorous, lethargic, lifeless, loafing, neglectful, passive, procrastinating, remiss, sack artist, shiftless, slack, sleepy, slothful, slow, slow-moving, snoozy, somnolent, supine, tardy, tired, torpid, trifling, unconcerned, unenergetic, unindustrious, unpersevering, unready, wear. Does this make it clear? *smiles*]

Esta manana de vaga
me la pase sin hacer...pues nada.
Dormi hasta tarde
y cuando mire el reloj
...jo! Eran ya las 11 de la manana!

Me puse mi camiseta con el diseno de photografia,
unos capris khakis y sandalias,
entonces entre aqui en el internet
Y me perdi en otra vez
hasta quien sabe que hora, Phew!
Yo no contaba.

En los blogs hable de arroz, de cocos
y de Mr.Krinkle,
El parece ser que esta muy, muy busy
pues por aqui ni lo he visto.

En el projecto de mi "vegetacion",
tome un impulso y me fui de vacilon.
Goodwill, Big Lots y Old Navy
fueron unos de los lugares
donde me fui, Oh yeah, baby!

Todo en la tienda estaba de venta.
Chancletas, camisetas y demas...
Todo a un dollar y night five.

De salida; de la tienda al auto
me di una asadon
chucha madre! Este calor
si que es una cabriacion!

Metida en el "batimovil"
prendi el aire acondicionado
solo pa' descubri que no tenia gas!!
Le meti dos punazos al condenado!

Luego de poner gas,
me puse groovy con Coldplay's, X&Y.
Buey! Me encanta esa cancion
Speed of Sound, No preguntes,
I don't know why.

Ahora en casa
estoy de vuelta a este lugar.
Madre mia!
Que le paso al mundo
que conocia!

Anyway my friend
este post va hoy no en Ingles
pero en Espanol.
en este blog en este blog
se rinde honor no solo a uno,
pero a los dos.

*Wow! I feel british right now. Writing on the wrong side(according to Americans, but of course.). Oh well, a little variation never killed anyone.*

2005-06-29T20:46:00.000-07:00

Mr.Krinkle y yo... (How the heck do I say that in Finnish?*vexed*)

[Mood: Limbolistic]

[Currently: Thinking of arroz con coco y grandules...*actually drooling, but didn't want to sound gross.*]

DMB

Once upon a time there was a Mr. called Mr.Krinkle. He was a nice guy, liked by many, and actually much better than benny. Who the bloody hell is benny? *smiles*

On the board he always seemed to keep his rating at 10 (stinker!), while most of us struggled with and eight every now and then.

One day this Mr.Krinkle found a new friend. Her name was Dragonfly, and he adored her to no end. Yes, yes it was the dragon that flies always in search of a kite to take her up higher into the skies. (*come on, everybody:* Awwww...!)

She was a strong Dragonfly, for she was constantly found at the LUTW whacking Mr.Krinkle. Always with the gentleness of a lady, of course. Wouldn't want to leave a mark or wrinkle.

LUTW was the place if you needed a whack or for the 'Last Poster' a place to simply relax. Everything here was valid, so Mr.Krinkle and D'fly kept on laughing and and crying. Laughing so hard it made them cry, for the stupid things they wrote were funnier than a blind rat!

From 'what's up' to the pillow fight, D'fly's ingeniuty kept on rising, even if it meant hiding and disguising. Oh, Mr.krinkle was in love! At last he had found a friend who was cute and not a newt. Hey watch it! Why even compare me to a newt? I am cuter than that, why don't you try, instead, a cat. (I know he likes cats. *meow!!!*)

They would always play and play 'til late hours of the day. They enjoyed each other's company to much to leave all the playing, even if they had no idea what the hell they were saying.

After LUTW it was time for a movie. Being with Mr.Krinkle was always kind of groovy. They usually met at their home threads in their jammies with a movie and Fanta. Shut! I have no idea what rhymes with Fanta, perhaps Santa? Anyway, he wanted to watch mostly scary ones; Mrk's technique to score a kiss. I'm guilty too 'cause I could not resist. Gosh, that Mr.Krinkle is such a sneak!!!

There in the dark they would scare the crap out of each other, Mr.krinkle's way to get close to one another. So there under the blankies they cuddle and cuddle... Who else knows what happened? phew! I'm not saying so don't start asking.

Even though those times at the DMB are gone, Mr.Krinkle and D'fly are still here going strong. So to friendship I offer a toast, hoping I could finally eat that weiner roast. He,he,he!!! Just kidding!

Seriously...To you my friend Mr.K I send a hug and a big chocolate cake! *winks*

Love ya!

D'fly

2005-06-27T08:53:00.000-07:00

A log for the blog...

Friday, June 24, 2005.

[mood: neutral]

[Currently: Talking to my hair to stop frizzing.]

A log for the blog...

Ok, so it is 5:28, and we have finally left the house.

Beh...supposedly we were to leave at 3:00, so go figure, it is 5:28! That's what family affairs will do to you. Anyway...so here we are.

Yep, here we are. In an Ford F-150. I am hungry. I think I want Taco Bell. I am a junkie for Taco Bell.

Somewhere in... I have no idea where.(It's now 9 pm and change.)

A big sign to my left says: Exit 101. Have no idea what that meant but I guess we are approaching exit 101. A few minutes ago we stopped for to get gas. One of the people I'm with said we had stop exactly at the exit to her sister's. I think her comment was to let us know it was a coincidence we were stopping at the same stop as her sister's.

Hmmm...the people you meet at gas stations, holly cow! At the gas station, I needed to use the restroom, and this man was standing in the corner of the building. He made some comments to me, nothing rude, just comments. I smiled as a courtesy. The man seemed friendly, but ya know, it might not be a smart idea to approach women or start conversations with people who are going to the restroom. Goodness, and even less at 9:38 at night! Anyway, when I was inside buying water and juice two women reported him to the clerk, only to find out he was there to protect her. Seems like that gas station had been robbed recently and the man was just a good samaritan trying to help protect the young clerk inside. Nice gesture from the man, but I guess what I said still stands: Men in corners of , late at night, should not approach women at 9 pm. That just screams: Psycho!

Anyway...we're moving again. Truck passing by, blah, blah, blah! Let me see...what have I done exciting aside from thinking of...things. Oh, right! I watched 'Miss Congeniality 2' on my laptop. Pretty good movie with lots of laugh. Sandra Bullock, as always, was great! I have always liked her acting style. She is so natural and down to Earth. I must say that I liked 'Miss Congeniality 2' better than the first one.

Hey, I learned a new term today. What do you call 'Earthy' people? ha,ha,ha!!! I thought it was a bit on the silly side, but I MUST share. They are called ' Granola'. When I first heard it today, I was like," huh!?" and then that," huh?!?" was immediately followed by an,"Awwww..."ha,ha,ha,ha!!! Funny the things we learn everyday.

Man, I don't have a picture to go with this. Shut! I should have taken one earlier. Oh, well...it's dark anyway. Perhaps tomorrow I will have the time to take some pixs and stuff.

Ok, I must stop writing, my stomach is turning up side down. Writing while in a moving vehicle is NOT a good idea. Ahhhhhhhhh...I AM GETTING SICK!!!! VOMIT!!!!!!!!!!!! Good bye! *smiles*

2005-06-27T08:52:00.000-07:00

hotel

2005-06-27T08:51:00.001-07:00

palms

Saturday, June 25, 2005.

Another day...

Last night we finally stopped at around 4:00 am, to find a room. I was grumpy, sore and tired like hell! Everybody was tired, but no one could make up their bloody minds about the hotel. Finally the winner was Hotel 8.

Now it's 10:42 in the morning. I slept like a log! We just finished eating breakfast at Mc. Donald's. I got the big breakfast which ended up being the smallest breakfast of them all. I consumed that in a minute! For the record, I hate Mc. Donald's, but the majority wanted to go there.

Now we are headed towards Miami. Oh, by the way, we stopped in Tampa for the night. I had forgotten how NOT exciting Florida was in certain areas.

*See a sign that says Ocala.* Yep, back on the highway....wheeeee!!!!!!!!!

Today the day is cloudy. We have a feeling that it might rain. It really doesn't mattter if it rains because we're not going anywhere anyway.

Ok, I"m going to get sick now. I must stop writing now....ciao!

Still on the road: It is now 3:48 pm.

We are at, what I believe to be, the bloody last LAST ticket poll. The sign we just passed said: Miami 60 miles. It is 3:48 pm. Hopefully we will have enough time to do something once we get in Miami. There has been a lot of changes in Miami. I see a lot of subdivisions, etc. All the houses are horrid, though. They all look like boxes. All the need is the name brand of shoes to label them. Do I keep insulting Miami or is that just my imagination? Sorry, I'll stop.

He,he,he..this is going to be bad, but you know, when I think of Miami I think of roaches. Miami is infested with roaches. I actually believe the Floridian roaches should get to vote; they are the majority in the state. *smiles* Ok, I did it again! I promise I will truly stop now.

2005-06-27T08:51:00.000-07:00

Beaches...

2005-06-27T08:50:00.000-07:00

blue

2005-06-27T08:48:00.000-07:00

downtown metamorhosis..

Sunday 26 2005

South Beach...

We arrived at Miami at around 5 in the afternoon. Traffic was horrible! Every place we encountered was plagued with traffic. We decided to get a hotel at Miami Beach or South Beach to be exact. Basically all the hotels were full, but we managed to get one, a really nice one. The rooms were very contemporary and nice. I loved it! At around 10:30 we went club hunting. Club hunting in Miami is so much fun! I would like to say that we went to about 13 clubs last night, yeah, that's pretty accurate. For some reason there was no cover price so we were just drifting from one place to another. Dancing, dancing, dancing...until almost 4 am.

While we were looking for clubs we came across a gay club. We decided to go in. heheheh!!!! That was a sight! I actually loved it! The music was, of course, excellent! Those guys really know how to have fun! We didn't stay there long because my brother got his ass touched several times by guys. The club consisted of several chambers. Each one connected by long halls or 'ass grabbing' halls. When you go thru one there are guys on each side of the walls, waiting for other guys to pass by and that's when they pinch your ass and in one occasion a guy even moved his pelvis forward towards my brother to feel him. That was hilarious! He was so ready to leave...Too bad because I was ready to start dancing there too.

I think that was the last club we went to. Somewhere along Washington Drive we stopped to eat pizza, which was really good, and eventually we lost the momentum. There were more clubs we could have visited, but by then I was getting sleepy and had no desire to continue.

We headed towards the hotel. Holy cow! Going back was hell! We had no idea we had walked for so long.! By then, we were tired, and our feet were hurting like crazy!
Hehehehe!!!! At the hotel I ran to use the computer they had. I guess you could say I was going thru computer withdrawal. Two days without internet...NOT good! Well, I was going to pay to use it when they guy at the front desk pointed at me, and called me. He told me not to pay and to just use one of their computers. That was so cool gesture from his part! I entertained him a little with my craziness. He laughed and laughed at how I was in need of a few seconds on the internet and stuff. His name was Wesley. *Wesley the computer guy*. I couldn't quite get it, but I think he said he built computers or something. I don't know, I was too busy logging in. *smiles* Anyway, he was super nice, and we had a nice little conversation. While we were conversing, the people I was with decided to go to the pool up on the roof.

Oh, the pool was nice! It had the nicest view...

On the LONG way back.....

The turnpike= hideous. I hate taking the turnpike. For some reason it seems to take longer to me; perhaps because it has no stops or anything. It is going to be such a long drive...We are not even half way any where. Orlando is still 4 hours away.

We finally arrived in Florida at about 2 am. I think I slept most of the way, but I could be wrong. I mean, I didn't write or anything so I assume that I did sleep some.

2005-06-27T08:47:00.001-07:00

Coppertone sign survived!

2005-06-27T08:47:00.000-07:00

upside down roots...

En resumen: I had a really nice time. I am glad I got to experience some time with my family even though they're a pain in the butt. Next time, though I think I will go ahead and take a longer trip to Miami. A week end doesn't cut it for me. There is not much left to do in such a short time. To visit Miami one needs at least one week. I plan to make it at least that next time.

God bless my family and my friends. God bless you...in my heart!