I'm not dead....

... I've only been knitting, crocheting, reading, working, watching TV and over at Toronto.

I'll be back soon with things to tell and photos to show.

:)

Absolute happiness is...

Two tickets to this:



I'm happy, happy, happy. :)

Homesick

Magu and Mom, originally uploaded by magusita.

I lose some sales
and my boss won't be happy
but I can't stop listening to the sound
of two soft voices blended in perfection
from the reels of this record that I found

every day there's a boy in the mirror
asking me
what are you doing here
finding all my previous motives
growing increasingly unclear

I travelled far and I burned all the bridges
I believed as soon as I hit land
all the other
options held before me
will wither in the light of my plan

so I lose some sales
and my boss won't be happy
but there's only one thing on my mind
searching boxes underneath the counter
on a chance that on a tape I'd find

a song for
someone who needs somewhere
to long for

homesick
cause I no longer know
where home is

("Homesick", by The Kings of Convenience)

Miniature Figurines

Miniature Figurines, originally uploaded by magusita.

Esta tarde en lugar de trabajar y trabajar, decidi tomarme unas horas para pasar con mi hermano e irnos de compras.

Una de nuestras paradas fue una jugueteria en Main St., en Williamsville.

Lo fantastico de este sitio? Tienen una variedad enorme de juguetitos y figuritas miniatura - todo desde muebles hasta comida. Hermoso!

Desde enana me encantan las figuritas chiquititas y las casitas y todas esas vainas super de nena - y bueno, para complementar mis fantasias, siempre imaginaba tener personitas miniatura que vivirian dentro de las casitas y una vez que me cansara de jugar con ellas las pondria en un frasquito hasta la proxima vez. (Obviamente no seria una mala madre, asi que el frasquito tendria huequitos para que puedan respirar).


Que dice eso de mi estado mental? no se.... algo creepy creo.

ja!

Sobre la semana santa....

Easter Eggs, originally uploaded by magusita.

La fotito es de unos huevos de madera de venta en el Broadway Market, en el centro de Buffalo.
Estos huevitos los vendian como por $9 cada uno - caritos. Pero estaban lindos asi que a cambio de comprarlos, les tome la picchur.

Aqui en gringolandia no hay fanesca lastimosamente, asi que a cambio hicimos locro de papas y fuimos a dar vueltas al mercado.

Tambien hicimos un esfuerzo por comer la mayor cantidad de carne posible para probar que no nos iba a caer un rayo en la cabezota, y adivinen que? las monjas del colegio estaban mal - seguimos aqui bien vivitos y bien comidos. Hemos probado una vez mas que las ensenanzas religiosas valen un pito.

Por cierto, que demonios tiene que ver un conejo que pone huevos con un Cristo al que le salieron alas para ir al cielo? Alguien me explica? por que no entiendo ..... Probablemente mi hermano tiene la respuesta :)

Ira Glass

Thursday night. Any Thursday night.

I'm sitting on my sofa, a big bowl of warm pop corn in my lap, and my Tivo's remote in one hand.

I excitedly click on the main button and go to the programs list to find the next episode of Gray's Anatomy.

While I watch the show, laugh at their jokes, and get teary eyed when so and so died/broke up/argued, etc. a thin line of insecurity enters my mind and immediately I think of how pathetic it is that I am wasting my Thursday night in watching this stupid American TV series that sometime in the first season had an interesting plot and has grown to be as predictable and commercial as any other show of its kind.

This thin line of insecurity soon becomes a thick mass of regret when I think about all the people who are actually doing something worth it - changing the world, moving up, growing beyond their human limitations – while I am sitting on my big fat ass watching a show that in no way is making me grow as a woman, a professional, a human being.

Ok. So that's the negative part of this essay, now let's go to the part when I show I am a groupie.

About 5 years ago, driving around with N on a Friday night and constantly switching radio stations, we were caught by this nasal, yet attractive, voice and a story plot that I no longer remember but must have been very interesting as it kept us for about an hour sitting in our car, unable to turn off the radio, because we needed –I mean NEEDED- to keep on listening until the end. This is the effect that most This American Life's stories have on us.

For those of you who don't know, This American Life is a show on NPR that runs every Friday night at 7 pm. The show is split in 3 or 4 acts, each one of them tells a different story about a specific topic for the week; for instance, "houses of ill repute" was a program where 3 people: a college drop out, a retired man in Brooklyn, and a journalist assigned to the White House, talked about the things their houses/apartment ones of "ill repute".

The show's host is this guy called Ira Glass. I have to admit that from the moment I first heard him, I've had a little crush for him. I had never seen his picture until he was promoting a series of talks about his show, so it wasn't that I was attracted to him physically (and actually, up to the night of his talk I believed he was gay), but my attraction to Ira Glass was more of an intellectual kind – his voice, his questions, the insight he gives us on every person's life through a short 10 minutes story is deeper than any message I've received through TV – ever.

As I always do when there's some person that I find extra fascinating, I created this Ira Glass persona for myself. I trendy guy, tall and skinny, wearing nice glasses, with a cigarette in one hand and a pencil in the other one, writing notes about the next show, and questions for his next interview, sitting in a minimalist office with a nice view of Chicago. This Ira Glass, MY Ira Glass, would watch the Discovery and the History channels, know all about the classics, listen jazz and indie rock, and spend his afternoons doing Yoga or meeting with friends of sushi.

Little did I know, and again, this is something I learned on the night of his show, that Ira Glass actually spend his weekday nights watching TV with his wife (yes, a WIFE – contrary to my illusions, he is not gay), and that's not all – actually, one of his favorite shows is, are you ready for this?, is The OC.

So, here's what I think about The OC: a bunch of over-privileged teenage brats, lost in a world of consumerism, empty lives, untrusting relationships, and idiotic parents, all living together in a nice little county with an spectacular view and nice weather every day of the year. The OC is to this era what Beverly Hills 90210 was to the nineties: pure nothingness. To me, The OC is even worse than Grays Anatomy simply because it's about teenagers, and teenagers are evil.

With this as a background you can imagine the shock, the disturbance, the commotion caused on my little world of "Ira and I" when my perfect image of Ira Glass was being shattered by the notes of a song about California (the OC's theme song by Phantom Planet). He, the man I've crushed on for years, watches the OC.

Ok. I'm no stupid, so obviously I overcame this very easily and actually I've used it for my advantage. Here's how: If Ira Glass watches the OC, sings to its theme song, and is not ashamed of confessing that he even got a bit teary eyed when the OC ended, then probably watching vain Tv shows is not as bad as it seemed – after all, if he, my idol in radio programming, watches the OC, what is the problem is spending a nice, relaxed little night of the week watching Gray's Anatomy, or Battlestar Galactica, or Lost, or Heroes, or America's Next Top Model? I, like any other hard working human being deserve to allow my brain to rest and absorb all the nothingness of these TV shows. What would happen with me if all I read, see, listen to, is only culture, learning, philosophy, politics, and all that crap? I would probably be killing people up and down, and eventually would drown myself in some old lady's pool. But that is not the case, of course.

So thank you, Ira Glass, for admitting that you too watch worthless shows and waste your time like many of us do. I have learned to accept me and my TV habits so much better just because of your words.

Weather

Today I can gladly announce that the temperature outside is 58F and that this evening, for first time in 4 months, I will go out without a jacket.

I’ve been long waiting for this moment as I am to my eyeballs of the stupid cold weather and the fact that temperatures outside have been so low that it was impossible to go out and walk around at my will.

I am absolutely tired of driving and all I want to do is walk. Fortunately my desperate pleads have been heard and we had a bit of sunshine at noon –so I took my ipod and walked placidly amidst the mud (melt snow and soil produce mud everywhere) towards the bank for about 40 minutes and then went back to sit in my chair and work for another 6 hours.

Today is a joyous day, everybody. The sun is out, it’s 7:09 pm and I already had dinner, and I am about to change and go out just to hang around the area. Tonight I plan to delight myself with the pleasure of going to bed early and see if my body finally accepts the fact that daylight time savings are here and that we are working an hour ahead now.

Best regards,

M.

My husband will call me tomorrow, by Becky Herz.

As the header in this blog says, this is just a place to keep everyday happenings in my life, and NPR is something that is constant in my life.

Here's another essay from the 'I Believe' series at the National Public Radio. This one made me teary-eyed. Hope you enjoy it.
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My Husband Will Call Me Tomorrow

by Becky Herz

I believe that my husband will call me tomorrow.

Tonight I'll say, "Have a great day," and "I love you" to my husband, who is 11 time zones away in Iraq. Then I'll hang up the phone. I'll fall asleep as I did last night, next to our baby daughter. We'll sleep in the guest bedroom downstairs — it's less lonely to sleep there for now.

First, I'll pet and talk to our dogs. I weaned them from sleeping with me a few months ago, but they still seem a bit disappointed when I go off to bed without them. I'll promise them a long walk tomorrow, and I'll make good.

In bed, I'll lay my hand on our daughter's chest several times before I fall asleep, just to make sure that she is breathing. I'll curl up in two blankets: one from Guatemala, one from Peru. I'll allow these souvenirs of past travels to warm the empty space in the bed. I'll get up three times during the night to feed our baby. Each of those times I'll tell her that she has a beautiful life to look forward to. I can say this because I believe that my husband will call me tomorrow.

In the morning after my cup of coffee, I'll change diapers and move around loads of laundry. I'll pour dog food, eat cereal, get dressed, and do the dishes — all with one hand, holding our baby in the other. I'll do the shopping, pay the bills, and stop in at work to see how my employees are getting by. Every three hours I'll stop what I'm doing to feed, change and play with our daughter. I'll make good on the promised walk with our baby strapped to my chest and a dog-leash in each hand. When people say, "Looks like you have your hands full," I'll smile and acknowledge that it's true, but I make the best of it because I believe that my husband will call me tomorrow.

If there is a letter addressed to me from the military, I'll open it because I believe that my husband will call me tomorrow. If there is a knock at the door, I'll answer it, because I believe that my husband will call me tomorrow.

And when he does, I'll talk to him and tell him again that I love him. I'll be able to hang up the phone, keeping my fear at bay, because I believe — I must believe — that my husband will call me tomorrow.

Best lines I've read in a blog in the last ... uhmm.. two days:

• "Peer pressure caused me to jump off a cliff. Sorry mum, you taught me nothing."

Written by Urban Cowgirl at Adventures of an Urban Cowgirl in answer to a MEME where you're supposed to write about 5 things that people don't know about you. In her case it was to bungee jump from a 109 m-high platform. Fun!

• "I've floated on the remark "Been there, done that" for some time now, but the notion that the moment is approaching when I can no longer say this bothers me. The truth is, I don't want to go."

Written by Donald Crowdies from Don To Earth. Don is a 93 year old blogger who lives in Canada; a recent stroke has made him reflect on his life, the things he still has left to do, and how close he is to his death.
Needless to say, Don's is a very good blog to follow.

• "Nostalgia has been running deep here since our visit to Grandma's farm so I thought I better make tapioca pudding (insert GROSS or YUM here -- I know tapioca feelings run deep. I love it.)"

Written at Happy Things, a delightful blog about a mom, her husband, and their child. BTW... I love -LOVE- tapioca too!

Guardando mi historia

Hoy dia mi instinto conservacionista me llevo a sacar un backup de todos los 150 posts de este blog.

Porque? - Pues los que planeamos no tener hijos, no plantamos arboles y no escribimos libros debemos dejar un poquito de nosotros en este mundo de otras formas creativas, no?

Asi que ahi esta!


Que lindo.


:)

On Christmas

Christmas 2006 was a special one for me. It was the first Christmas that I was celebrating in my own apartment, with my own family, the first dinner party I was going to host by myself, the first Christmas with a salary of my own to expend in presents, and the first one that I really I took in my charge to make very special, for several good reasons.

You see, my brother moved to the US just a few months ago, and this Christmas was the first he would be without Mom and Dad; then, on the other hand, my boyfriend and I have been away from home for so many years that the feeling of having an actual family member present to share an special occasion with has an enormous significance; and then, there is my friend, Ana, whom I met when I was in kindergarten and in spite of the years and the distance, is still here with all the memories, the good times, and all the fun - what can be more valuable than that?

So today at work, listening to NPR, this essay by Melinda Shoaf comes to my ears and in just a few minutes summarizes what I felt all the way through the holiday season: to make Christmas just right for the people I love.

I don't know if it was as perfect as I hoped it would be, but I did the best I could: We had bags of goodies to share with the friends, we had a nice Christmas tree that we put up early in December (and as of today, is still up!), we had well thought and elaborated presents for one another, we had Christmas songs (that three weeks later, we are still singing), we had Christmas stories and Christmas movies, we made cookies, suspiros, and pot roast chicken, and now that I look back, I know that I have some very unforgettable memories - and for what I've heard from my brother and boyfriend, they do too! - for which, I am very happy.

I know there were some imperfections, but who cares? I know that we'll always have next Christmas to make it even better, and hopefully the loved ones will often come back to keep sharing the good food, the good wine, and the good times.

And now, just so you know where all this Christmas remembrance came from, I leave you to Melinda Shoaf and her essay, Designated Celebrator.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Designated Celebrator

by Melinda Shoaf

I believe that if you're the person in your family who arranged for and executed the celebration this past holiday season, well, you're probably still tired. You may be wondering why you spent so much on presents, why you had to have your house just right, why you had friends over for drinks when you were already weary and worn out. You may be thinking that you're getting too old for all of this or you may be thinking you're too young.

If you know what I'm talking about, you're probably your family's Designated Celebrator -- that is, the one who sees to it that a holiday actually happens in the lives of your loved ones.

After New Year's, I was sitting at the breakfast table in a stupor. My husband asked if I was all right.

"I'm exhausted," I answered. "I'm totally exhausted."

He looked puzzled. "Why do you do this to yourself every year?"

I have to admit that part of what I do around the winter holidays seems almost involuntary, innate. It's as if I'm driven by the ancient need to mark the darkness of winter with my little bit of light.

My answer to my husband's question is that I believe one of the most important things I can do while I'm on this planet is honor those I love through celebrations, and the older I get, the more I believe it.

When my children were small, their father lost his job. It took a decade to recover emotionally and financially. Hot water and electricity were luxuries that weren't always available; meals were a challenge. I tried to hide it from them, but I was constantly afraid of losing our home. Those celebrations were so sparse, the future so uncertain, that the ground seemed to be shifting beneath us.

So now, celebrations mean that much more to me. This year, I polished the silver, lit the candles, made sure a sprig of holly was carefully tacked above every window; I served a $12 bottle of wine instead of a $7 one; I bought lamb chops instead of a roast -- little things, just so we'd remember this day, this night.

I believe that in this world there is and always has been so much sadness and sorrow, so much uncertainty, that if we didn't set aside time for merriment, gifts, music and laughter with family and friends, we might just forget to celebrate all together. We'd just plod along in life.

I believe in the importance of celebrations. As my family's Designated Celebrator I may be tired and I may not have done all that I set out to do, but I believe that this year, I celebrated the ones I love, and I hope with all my heart that I celebrated them well.

Primer post del 2007!

Y en fin, se acabaron las fiestas y se acabo el 2006 – Feliz Anio, por cierto!

Con esto de que ha llegado Enero de nuevo tambien ha llegado el primer aniversario de nuestro regreso a USA, y bueno, no tengo mas comentarios al respecto que decir: YA ME QUIERO IR DE AQUÍ!!!!

He tenido suficiente de esta ciudad y de este pais (por el momento), y ademas esto del sedentarismo no va bien conmigo. Necesito viajar, moverme, sentir esa emocion de empacar y desempacar, de hacer que mi vida alcance en una maleta y de aprender a llevar un panty y un cepillo de dientes a todo lado para quedarme en donde me agarra la noche.

Estoy sedienta de culturas nuevas, de colores diferentes, de climas variados, de sol!

Buffalo ha estado nublado por casi un mes, hoy dia salio un poquito de sol pero yo estaba encerrada en un edificio, trabajando, y apenas vi unos rayitos de luz entrar por la puerta y luego segui con lo mio – por cierto, “lo mio” últimamente se refiere a pasar frente a un computador respondiendo e-mails a Hong Kong, escribiendo protocolos para Guatemala, discutiendo costos con clientes locales, y leyendo el NY Times.

Al regresar a casa no tengo cerebro para mucho mas que no sea hacer suspiros (fotos en flickr), galletas (mas fotos en flickr), y deambular por las mismas paginas de Internet que veo todos los dias.

Si, estoy aburrida. Necesito un cambio urgente. No puedo ver mi vida irse en un trabajo, pero si me salgo de mi trabajo puedo morir de aburrimiento en este hueco en donde no hay nada que hacer.

Ya, ya … estoy tremendamente negativa. A que hora me hice asi? Pues siempre he sido super negativa, eso no es nada nuevo (desde chiquita mi Papa me revolvia el temperamento criticando mi negativismo, asi que me acuerdo bien que siempre he sido asi medio maligna). En fin, no me molesta tanto estar tan negativa, pero lo que si me molesta es el aburrimiento. Yo de aburrida hago webadas y me porto bien maldita, y solo el prospecto me preocupa, y de ahí se desenvuelve una bola gigante de aburrimiento, preocupación, stress y depre. Puf… que sombrias se ven las semanas que vienen!

En fin. Hablando del clima… fatal esta el clima por estos lares. Es la primera semana de enero y no hemos visto ni un poquito de nieve por aquí (primera vez en 129 anios que esto pasa!), asi que todo lo atribuimos al calentamiento global.

Dicen que si se re-calienta la tierra todo el hielo en la corona del mundo se va a derretir y luego chau civilización al norte del continente. Yo lo veia todo esto bien sombrio, sobre todo por que yo vivo super al norte y hay un magno descongelamiento pues puede suceder que yo marque calabera – nah! ignoremos este factor y digamos que yo sobrevivo por milagro. En fin, con el prospecto de millones de galones de agua inundando las ciudades, uno de mis amigos hizo el desinteresado comentario: se imaginan lo fenomenal que va a ser busear por aquí?!?! Y yo que no habia pensando en eso, sino solamente en las millones de personas muertas, he tenido un absoluto levanton de animo! Que chévere seria esta nuevo hobby! Que lindo, busear por las calles desiertas de gente y solo habitadas por vida maritima …! Solo de imaginarme me pongo toda sonriente.

Pero ya, en serio, he decidido dejar de preocuparme por el calentamiento global. Desde mi punto de vista, estamos acabando con los recursos naturales de este planeta que nos van a mantener vivos a los humanos, y la verdad es que nosotros, como especie, vamos a desaparecer en algun momento sea lo que sea lo que se haga con el ambiente. Una vez muertos los humanos el planeta seguira aquí, vivito, por que eso si, no vamos a acabar con la vida, la vida sigue, la energia se recicla, y puede que los seres que estan vivos ahora no van a estar vivos en el futuro, pero y??? Que seria del mundo si tuvieramos aun tiranosaurios correteando por las ciudades? Es todo parte de la evolucion. Y al fin y al cabo, la contaminación es causada por materiales con los que la naturaleza mismo nos ha provisto.

(I know these few lines are going to come back and bite me – but what the hell)

Y ya pues. Me voy a comer.

Ipod es una porquería.

Hace apenas unas semanas escuche en NPR un reportaje sobre la mala calidad de ciertos gadgets actuales que apenas te duran el tiempo que te cubre la garantía y un par de meses después dejan de funcionar. Aunque el reportaje mencionaba a los Ipods en forma bien directa no le di mayor importancia y seguí con mi vida, despreocupada, hasta que llego el punto de quiebre.

Más o menos hace un mes tuve un problema con mi Ipod de dos años. Estaba tocando música en mis parlantes Bose y al querer adelantar a la siguiente canción el Ipod se atoro y dejo de funcionar por completo; al apagarlo y volverlo a encender me encuentro con que ninguna de mis 17,000 canciones estaba en el disco duro – Ok. No big deal – me puse en ese mismo instante a hacer un restore del software y a volver a instalar las canciones, pero luego de 5 horas y varios intentos, el Ipod, el software, y las canciones, no mostraban la menor intención de ponerse a trabajar.

En eso se me vienen a la mente los nuevos comerciales de Ipod, el del chico chic, delgado, trendy que representa a Apple, y el del gordito de terno, lentes, súper nerd que representa a Windows. Yo evidentemente fui suficientemente cojuda de creerme los comerciales e irme por el reproductor de mp3s mas trendy y ‘lindo’ del mercado sin prestar la menor atención a la competencia que ofrece mejores equipos a mucho menor precio.

Mi novio me regalo mi Ipod de 60 GB tercera generación hace dos años y un Ipod nano de 4 GB primera generación hace un año por que al fin y al cabo soy una mimada y me compran todo lo que pido. En fin, el Ipod que se fue a la mierda fue el de 60 GB así que ayer, muy pacientemente, con el corazón en la garganta, y con la tarjeta de crédito lista para pagar el arreglo del aparato me dirigí hacia el Apple Store a ver que se podía hacer… OK. Para resumir, una mierda absoluta.

El servicio al consumidor de Apple es pésimo. Al llegar me dijeron que debía tener una cita para que se dignen ver a mi Ipod, que si no tengo una cita que la puedo hacer online, pero que igual no tienen ninguna ventana de servicio abierta así que me toca esperar nomás, y por ultimo, que si me gusta bien, sino, también!

Mi novio para este punto estaba que mandaba a la mierda al ‘genius’ de Apple (así los denominan a los mancitos que trabajan en la tienda), y yo tratando de apaciguar los ánimos le pedí al man que aunque sea le de una mirada al Ipod a ver si sabia que pasaba.

30 minutos y varias llamadas telefónicas de parte del ‘genius’, el man coge mi Ipod y me dice: “mira, tu Ipod tiene el hardware dañado y la garantía se acabo hace un año, así que tienes dos opciones: pagar $249 dólares por el mismo Ipod con un nuevo hardware, o pagar el precio de un nuevo Ipod menos 10% de descuento por el Ipod viejo – tu decide”.

OSEA?!?!?!

Primero, no tengo plata para gastarme mas de $300 en otro nuevo Ipod, segundo, así tuviera el dinero no estoy dispuesta a comprarme otro Ipod que se que se va a dañar así por que si! Y claro, luego nos ponemos a pensar – obvio que son de tan mala calidad! Si no fuese así, Ipod no tendría un puesto de servicio técnico dentro de cada una de sus tiendas! Los productos de Apple se venden por lindos y trendy, no por calidad, y si quieres tener algo que te dure por varios años debes irte por lo que sea menos por Apple.

Me permito generalizar que Apple son los de los problemas, no solamente los Ipod, por que he escuchado a varios de mis amigos quejarse de la poca calidad de las Powerbook o cualquier otro computador de esta marca, y encima el servicio al consumidor deja muchísimo que desear. En la vida real el “genius” de Apple se parece mucho mas al nerd de las propagandas en contra de Windows que al otro dude.

En fin, escribo todo esto para recomendarles que NO COMPREN IPODS. Hay otros sistemas en el mercado (como Creative Labs o cualquier otro) que van a dar menos problemas a menor costo (lo digo por experiencia – antes del Ipod tenia un Zen de creative labs que hasta ahora funciona súper bien a pesar de las numerosas veces de darse contra el piso).

Tenemos la responsabilidad de ser consumidores pensantes y comprar lo que es bueno y rechazar lo que no lo es. A la mierda Apple!

Julius

Doesn’t it suck when people die?
My uncle died more than a year ago. I don’t know the exact date, but I remember receiving my mom’s phone call when I was leaving my apartment to go to chorus practice at a church in London’s east side. I had joined an American group of singers who were going to perform for Thanksgiving service in St. Paul’s Cathedral.
When she called we talked just about everything but his death – she asked how everything was, I complained of my current situation: about leaving London, sad to the bone, lonely, confused as usual. Just about to hang up she said, “can I tell you something sad?”, “what’s going on?” “Julius died yesterday”.

I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t feel anything. He was gone and that was it.

Then, as if trying to recall some feeling, trying to prove to myself that I could cry and that I felt something for someone, I started thinking about the past and his life in my life: Uncle Julius cooking spaghetti for Sunday brunch, the black and white photos of his mom and brother (people he never talked about), images just sitting in a table, always untouched, facing the main entrance (once I moved them out of curiosity and he got really mad at me – probably one of the few times he got so upset about something I did). Then I though about his hammock, how he used to hang it from two hooks, one in each wall in the living room, and hang the hammock right there in the middle of the room, barely taking care of the coffee table and the expensive china, so that the baby girl (me!) could play on her own while the grown-ups rested.

He also had that tea set, British it was, always clean, dusted, impeccable in one side of the living room – I never asked where he got it from?, why it meant so much? Questions that are left silent, and answer that will always remain quiet.

It’s interesting that it has taken me a full year to come around and write about him.
We were close while I was a child, but my teenage years took me to places far away from him – although I always remembered his long and gentle hands, his way to tell stories, his smell of lavender cologne and his grey cotton sweaters.

I miss him. Besides my grandmother, he is the only person I’ve lost.
I know. I’ve been lucky; I’ve had very few deaths around and only these two have meant something.

My mom told me that he said goodbye a few weeks before he died. He asked her to call me and let me know; he asked her not to cry, to get a new dress for his funeral, to have a small dinner on his behalf and make sure that his daughter in law wouldn’t throw away his stuff: things that, although seemingly worthless, meant the world to him, God knows why.

In any case, he died. My mom took everything she could – the daughter in law is a bitch and she wouldn’t allow her keep Julius stuff. They organized a mass and a small dinner party. They had Italian food and red wine in his honor. Against all odds very few people attended the funeral – his closest friends are all so old that they barely leave home, and the young people are gone, like me.

As of today I am here, remembering, just as I remember every week, every month, about him and his smell, his words, his deep voice, his gentleness, his laughter, and as of this moment I miss him – like I always do.

A piece of art

These figures have been on sale in an art gallery in Toronto for years. I think they are adorable, and every time I walk by this place I think about getting them for my bathroom.


Yesterday we finally made up our minds and we decided to get them; however, our budget was nowhere close to the retail price of these happy-naked people - 3,000 Canadian dollars each!!!.


We, of course, had no choice but turn around and leave, but from the window outside I took these pictures (free of charge!) just to have with me instead of the original pieces.

Happiness is...

Having three tickets in first row to see Ira Glass at the Center for the Arts at the end of February. :)

Columbus Day Storm

So Thursday night I get home and everything seems pretty normal. The power is down in a few houses down the street but our apartment complex is still well lit – yeah!. I get home, follow my usual routine: turn the laptop on, change my work clothes, play some music in my ipod and sit down to check e-mails.

The storm started around 2 pm that afternoon, and by the time I left work my car was already covered in snow. What is usually a 20 min drive from work to home took around 45 minutes because everybody was driving so slowly – the streets were slippery and visibility was an issue.

By 9 pm we already had around 5 inches of snow all over the city and the suburbs, something unprecedented as never in history we’ve had a snow storm so early in the year – it’s just mid-october, for god’s sakes!

Around 8:30 pm, sitting in my living room browsing the net, the power went out. Just as the lights went off, N made it home, and just a few minutes later we decided to go out to pick up my brother from work – we knew it would take somewhat longer to make it to UB because of the weather, but we really had no idea of what would come.

9:05 pm, N’s car (a mini SUV) is stuck in the snow. After several minutes going back and forth we managed to drive out of the snow and towards the road. We made it to UB around 10 pm – a drive that usually takes 15 minutes took about 40 min. that night. We picked up Bill and headed back home. The snow was falling so hard for three times we had to stop in the middle of the road to clean the windshield because the snow was getting stuck under the wipers and we couldn’t see anything beyond the front of our car – dangerous situation. By quarter to 11 we made it home and watched a movie.

I knew I’d have to wake up earlier to clean my car to make it to work on time, so I woke up at 6:15 am on Friday, took a shower, and as I was getting ready I looked outside my windows and this is what I saw (see picture). The radio said that the whole Buffalo area was in state of emergency, driving ban was on place in five counties, schools were closed, and by 7 am almost two hundred thousand people didn’t have power at their homes.

Ok. No biggie. I went back to bed, and laying there the first thing that came to my mind was all the food we had in the fridge! About $200 in food was about to get spoiled, and that, my man, is a lot of money. Anyway, I sort of relaxed when N told me that if we didn’t open the freezer our food would last a couple of days frozen, but little did we know that it would take for days until we got power back!

The last phone call we received on Friday was from my boss telling me to stay home because there was no power at work either, and all our phone lines were down. Yupi! No work today! – I thought. About a minute after this phone call our phone lines went down too, so we turned off all our cell phones – except one, for an emergency – and ventured out looking for something for breakfast.

N and I dressed in our snow gear and headed out to the store. By the time we got there –walking over snow that was up to my knees high– we gladly found out that actually Wegman’s was open, and they had what looked like zombies working at the cashier. You see, it happened that the night crew at the store never actually went home, so those people hadn’t slept in more than 20 hours – they looked awful.

After shopping for a while we headed back home. Friday was kind of fun overall. After we came back from the store we stayed home all day, we read a lot, slept a lot, ate a lot, and at night we played Monopoly (I so much rule at Monopoly!!!) and then we went to bed. Of course, without power our heating system wasn’t working so I went to bed wearing thermal underwear, pajama and a sweater – the three of us had a very good night in spite of the cold.

By Saturday morning we were already missing our dear electricity. We hadn’t seen the news, heard the radio, checked our e-mails, played music in almost two days. We took a two minutes shower each (we had to save hot water just in case power didn’t come back by Monday) and headed out to the shopping mall. We had lunch at Jack Astors (too much garlic for my taste, but the boys seemed to enjoy it) and we went shopping for a while and then to the movies. We watched that dull movie, Man of the Year, the last one with Robin Williams (there was nothing else playing at the time we got there), so I guess that was alright just to keep us away from the dungeon (this is how we call home now that is dark and cold).

By the way, each day that passes our house gets 5 degrees colder. We are in the lower sixties by now, so we have an extra cover in our bed and I’m wearing thicker socks and am thinking on getting my gloves from storage.

On Sunday morning I woke up a little cranky already. We had nothing to do at home, we couldn’t eat any warm food because we have an electric stove (no power, no stove!), we can’t shower –and without a shower, I won’t get out of home, and already I had a splitting headache for reading by candle light. As I had nothing better to do I started to clean our place – I didn’t get too far as I couldn’t use our vacuum, but at least our kitchen and bathrooms are clean!

Then I thought, “well, to hell with self cleanliness! I’m going out without a shower!” So, looking like a refugee, I headed towards the city to get something to eat.

Well, it seems that I wasn’t the only one with such a bright idea – everybody in Amherst was eating out! The lines at Tim Hortons were an hour long; the lines at the sandwich place at Wegman’s were even longer! I need food in order to keep my blood sugar up (otherwise I start shaking and eventually lose all consciousness) and I was already feeling hot and shaky for not having had anything to eat in almost 12 hours.
I picked up some sushi, some Chinese food, some bread, a gallon of green tea and a bottle of chocolate milk and went home. In the way back I almost hit a car –well, that’s what the other driver told me, because I didn’t realize it until this huge guy comes down from an SUV towards my car and starts yelling at me through the window; pretty scary, I know.

So now I’m afraid to drive, I sort of hate people, I’m cold, my hair is a mess (blow-dryers need power too!), my fridge stinks (haven’t taken the food out of the freezer yet), my floors are dirty and I’m running out of clean clothes to go to work.


Ok. This section up here I wrote in a moment of fury (hehe).
By the time we made it back from work this afternoon, power was restored in our apartment complex, yessss!!!
I finally cleaned up our fridge and all our food went right to the trash – it was rather sad, let me tell you.
As a manner of celebration for having electricity back, we went out for Indian food, and now we are washing all our clothes.

As a summary of the whole ordeal, most people already have power back in the area. Almost two hundred people suffered carbon oxide poisoning caused by generators kept in non-ventilated areas. The whole city looks awful – the trees, that were the most beautiful trait of this place, are mostly ruined. The weight of the snow broke most of the trees’ branches and now we have branches and trees all over the streets.

I know it couldn’t have been worse, but these four these were pretty insane overall. We all need another weekend to recover from this past one, and after this storm we are all starting to fear the winter that is coming over us – everybody says it’s going to be a tough one.

Como si nada.

Te vi esta tarde, Darío.
Trabajabas en la sección de testing en mi oficina. Estabas vestido de trabajo, con kakis y camisa de rayas. Super formalito, con el cabello bien arreglado con gel, caminabas por los pasillos saludando a la gente en forma profesional. Al sentir mi mirada en ti regresaste a verme, te sonreí, te pregunte como andabas y luego cada quien a su cubiculo, a seguir trabajando.

Evidentemente el muchacho de esta tarde no fuiste tú, y no se acerca siquiera al que ahora eres. Como me gustaría tenerte cerca. Te extraño.

World of Warcraft se ha robado a mi macho!

Es oficial. World of Warcraft me ha re-emplazado en la vida de N como pareja preferida en las noches y fines de semana, y temo que en muy poco ese maldito juego tomara cargo por tiempo indefinido la mente de mi novio.

Estoy jodida. Me voy a dormir por las noches sola. Me paso webeando los fines de semana y revoloteando al rededor de un ser que no tiene ojos que no sean dirigidos hacia la pantalla. La cosa esta tan grave que el dia de hoy, por ejemplo, la oracion con mayor emocion que he recibido de parte de N ha sido "mira mamor! mi hipogrifo esta volando! - que graficos que bestia!" y luego, como si nada, ha vuelto a hundirse en ese mundo virtual al que por el momento no tengo acceso.

Ok. Dado mi instinto practico y bien dirigido, a buscar soluciones se ha dicho!

Solucion 1. Cortar la electricidad de la casa
Problema a la solucion 1. No tengo velas, no me gusta leer sin la luz necesaria, y ademas me quedo sin laptop y sin cargador de ipod.

Solucion 2. Destruir la maldita computadora!
Problema a la solucion 2. Pierdo todas las fotos y musica que aun tengo en esa maquina y no he tranferido a mi laptop.

Solucion 3. Empezar a jugar yo misma, hacerme maestra en el juego, ganarle mil y una veces hasta que se despeche y asi recuperar a mi macho.
Problema a la solucion 3. Es una solucion a largo plazo. No he jugado nada desde que Prince of Persia era hecho a base de tres colores y los pasitos del man sonaban 'tahj, tahj, tahj'. Ademas, el ganarle y hacerle despechar del juego puede causarle una depresion mortal y lo ultimo que quiero es un amante deprimido.

Solucion 4. Andar llucha por la casa hasta que me pare bola!
Problema a la solucion 4. Mi hermano vive con nosotros.

Solucion 5. Aguantarme por hoy. Joder y seguir con la lucha el dia de manana.

... Y como soy un ser logico, luego de medir los pros y cons de mis opciones, me voy ehj por la shinco, Polito!

No es que me estoy rindiendo, pero estoy cansada, tengo suenio, y quiero leer Wicked. Asi que tamanana!

David Sedaris - Ya van tres

Esta noche, por tercera vez en dos anios, he tenido el absoluto placer de ver a David Sedaris leer sus obras en SUNY @ Buffalo. Sedaris, como he mencionado antes, es un fabuloso autor satirico, renombrado en montones de lugares como uno de los mejores escritores de comedia contemporaneos, y se lo conoce como lo mas cercano a una estrella de rock en el mundo de la literatura.

La sola idea de pensar en ver a Sedaris de nuevo me ha tenido con el corazon dando saltitos y buscando minutos en los que escaparme de mi trabajo para re-leer sus piezas. Ya se, ya se, ya se, soy una absoluta nerd. Quien mas se emocionaria de esta manera por ver a un escritor? Pero asi pasa cuando ves a alguien a quien admiras montones y quien definitivamente merece tu admiracion.

David Sedaris nacio en algun lugar de Western NY, y luego fui a vivir con su familia a North Carolina. De descendencia griega, Sedaris crecio en una familia con una madre bastante efimera y ligera de cargas emocionales, y un padre notoriamente mas plantado en la tierra. Como apenas uno de 5 hijos, David y sus hermanas buscaban formas de llamar la atencion de sus padres a travez de bromas y travesuras que al parecer resultaron bastante eficaces en desarrollar sus instintos artisticos.

Entre las piezas que Sedaris leyo esta noche estaba una de una lora periodista y un cochinito gordo, una ninera que parecia salida de una prision de mujeres (u hombres), y una historia preciosa en la que trataba sobre las ideas de los heterosexuales sobre el sexo homosexual. Me gusto, por cierto, una mencion que hizo hacia un comercial que pasaban en Londres a principio de este anio; iba algo asi:

Tarro de Vaselina - $5
Caja de condones - $20
Revistas Pornograficas - $45
Hacer creer a tus padres que tu hermano es homosexual - Priceless.

Cague de risa, no? Lastima que no se me ocurrio antes!

Ah, y la mierda es que como tengo que trabajar manana no me pude quedar a pedir su autografo :( - pero igual no importa tanto por que al fin y al cabo tengo todos sus libros autografiados y estoy casi, casi, casi segura que si le veo una vez mas el man se va a acordar de mi nombre ... hahaha, dream on !!!

Otrito...

Bueno, estoy matando tiempo hasta que el N llegue a sacarme de los pelos de la casa para ir al gimnasio.

Nota: N no me saca de los pelos de la casa para ir al gimnasio por que soy una gorda asquerosa, sino por que le pedi esta tarde que sea lo que sea que tenga que hacer, me lleve a pegarme un trotesito en las maquinas por al menos una media hora por que me siento hecho un plasto y yaf.

En fin, como no he escrito hace tiempos como que me dio ganitas de contar webadas mientras espero. Asi que aqui van:

1. Mi hermano es un cague de risa. Pasamos cague de risa. No nos vemos mucho, pero cuando nos vemos es un goze total.

2. Ya estoy harta hasta morir de Buffalo. El fin de semana la pasamos en Toronto y fue como un respiro revitalizador el caminar por calles llenas de polucion, homeless, y gays. Tenemos que salir de este sitio por nuestro bienestar mental, o sino voy a empezar a matar republicanos en cualquier momento.

3. Quien se imaginaria que los chinitos, tan cagues de risa que parecian, sean tan hijuepuktas cuando a negocios se refiere. Tengo un cliente que es un infeliz hijo de su perra madre que me regatea precios de inspecciones por mierdas 20USD y me mata de iras por que no es un cliente tan importante pero igual no puedo putearle por que osea, no valefff. En fin.

4. Que babosadas puedo decir a veces. Yo soy la primerita en mandar a la mierda a la gente cuando se ponen a generalizar webadas sobre razas o religiones, y yo primerita mandando a la mierda a los chinitos. Por si algun chinito lee esta webada, lo siento de corazon.

5. No se si han leido las noticias, pero en las ultimas 3 semanas han habido como 5 tiroteos en escuelas de USA.Esta sociedad es una verch. Tengo que salir de aqui !!!!!!!!

ya.. ya... ya.... !!!!

Ayer, mi mejor amiga me escribe y me dice que se casa. Bueno, ya era horita. La man vive de semi-legal en un pais extrangero (que no voy a decir el nombre por que ahi si que de ley que van a saber de quien estoy hablando) y por fin va a legalizar la cosa a travez de un cuasi-matrimonio que tienen disponible en dicho pais sin nombre.

Y ya, osea, no estoy en shock por que me parece muy buena idea el arreglar los asuntos de documentacion a travez de un simple y comodo arreglo marital, pero que bestia ... si es el fin de una era. Ya todos casandose, y los que no estamos casados estamos metidos hasta las patas en nuestras parejas. Me imagino que en unos meses/anios van a empezar a corretear todos los mini-me por aqui y por alla y de ahi empiezan los divorcios, claro. Pero tenaz... osea, y si mejor todos nos dejamos de webadas y paramos esta farza y de una vez por todas nos regresamos al colegio? digo, no seria mas facil?

Papi -- Click en la foto !!!

Te espera una chevere sorpresa ... !!!

Flickr Badge is Back

So click it now!

Something True:

It's nice to wake up one day and realize that the life that you have right now is exactly the life you dreamt of having when you were a child.

Together Again... :)

Billy and Magu, August 2006.

Time present and time past...

Buirnt Norton, by T.S. Eliot is one of my favorite poems; it means so much and reflects what I've many times thought about. Here's a little portion of the first of four quartets:


Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echoThus, in your mind.
But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.

(...)

Do what you love, by Tony Hawk.

(Here's another essay written for the NPR series "This I Believe". This one is written by super famous skater Tony Hawk -- The reason I like this essay? Simple. It's a reminder that you don't have to follow the conventional paths set up by society to be successful. You can make a living out of something that looks insane, but be happy; and out of that happiness, achieve success. Seems easy, right? Yeah, I wish!)

"I believe that people should take pride in what they do, even if it is scorned or misunderstood by the public at large.

I have been a professional skateboarder for 24 years. For much of that time, the activity that paid my rent and gave me my greatest joy was tagged with many labels, most of which were ugly. It was a kids' fad, a waste of time, a dangerous pursuit, a crime.

When I was about 17, three years after I turned pro, my high school "careers" teacher scolded me in front of the entire class about jumping ahead in my workbook. He told me that I would never make it in the workplace if I didn't follow directions explicitly. He said I'd never make a living as a skateboarder, so it seemed to him that my future was bleak.

Even during those dark years, I never stopped riding my skateboard and never stopped progressing as a skater. There have been many, many times when I've been frustrated because I can't land a maneuver. I've come to realize that the only way to master something is to keep it at -- despite the bloody knees, despite the twisted ankles, despite the mocking crowds.

Skateboarding has gained mainstream recognition in recent years, but it still has negative stereotypes. The pro skaters I know are responsible members of society. Many of them are fathers, homeowners, world travelers and successful entrepreneurs. Their hairdos and tattoos are simply part of our culture, even when they raise eyebrows during PTA meetings.

So here I am, 38 years old, a husband and father of three, with a lengthy list of responsibilities and obligations. And although I have many job titles -- CEO, Executive Producer, Senior Consultant, Foundation Chairman, Bad Actor -- the one I am most proud of is "Professional Skateboarder." It's the one I write on surveys and customs forms, even though I often end up in a secondary security checkpoint.

My youngest son's pre-school class was recently asked what their dads do for work. The responses were things like, "My dad sells money" and "My dad figures stuff out." My son said, "I've never seen my dad do work."

It's true. Skateboarding doesn't seem like real work, but I'm proud of what I do. My parents never once questioned the practicality behind my passion, even when I had to scrape together gas money and regarded dinner at Taco Bell as a big night out.

I hope to pass on the same lesson to my children someday. Find the thing you love. My oldest son is an avid skater and he's really gifted for a 13-year-old, but there's a lot of pressure on him. He used to skate for endorsements, but now he brushes all that stuff aside. He just skates for fun and that's good enough for me.

You might not make it to the top, but if you are doing what you love, there is much more happiness there than being rich or famous."

Billy, Moleskine, Trabajo, Viajes, Boing-Boing

Mi hermano viene a vivir conmigo en Agosto :). Esa es la buena noticia de la semana - no es que haya pasado nada malo, pero es que cuando uno trabaja todo se pone en alto y no hay muchas cosas emocionantes que contar.

Hace unos 4 meses cuando estuve en San Francisco, caminando por Castro (el distrito gay) me encontré con la primera tienda en la que (por fin!) pude comprar una Moleskine. Para los que no saben, una Moleskine es una agenda que originalmente era producida en Francia (creo que ahora la hacen en Italia) y tiene la particularidad de mantenerse abierta al escribir - no necesitas un peso en la otra pagina para mantener la agenda abierta. Además tiene una textura deliciosa - la tinta del esfero y la mina de los lapiceros parece flotar sobre el papel y a mí hasta me sale linda la letra cuando escribo en mi Moleskine :D

La cosa es que estoy tan afanosa de mi adorada y chic agenda que escribo todo lo que se me ocurre a.C. y no escribo nada por acá! Pero es que obviof, tengo la agenda a mano cuando se me ocurra, en cambio no me atrevo a empezar a postear desde la oficina -- el Internet monitoreado y las babosadas de corporate America me dan yeyo así que prefiero ir por lo seguro: no postear, y mantener mi trabajo.

Por cierto, mi trabajo va bien. Estoy abombada por que no tengo mucho movimiento en mis cuentas en estos días, pero veo que se me vienen dos viajecitos en lo que queda del año: uno a Toronto y el otro a San Francisco, CA. Woojoo!!! Estoy feliz por que San Francisco es una delicia de ciudad y realmente estoy contando los minutos por volver a visitarla.

Y por ultimo, un consejo ... Vayan a Google y escriban "Boing Boing". Lean esa página, es fantástica.

Mi Tecnica

Tengo la noción de que a mi los libros me llaman.

No leí ‘Cien años de soledad’ sino hasta que cumplí 20 por que no me sentía preparada para leerlo, y por ahí tengo una caja repleta de libros que estoy segura son excelentes (recomendados por amigos, profes y críticos cuya opinión respeto muchísimo) pero hay algo en mi que no me deja leerlos sino hasta que empiecen a llamarme.

En la universidad mi técnica era esta: empezar el día como cualquier otro, escribir mis ensayos y críticas para mis clases, pasar hasta media noche en la biblioteca y cuando todo estaba completamente callado y entre los libreros no se escuchaba mas que las hojas de un libro leído por alguien en algún rincón, yo dejaba todo en mi escritorio, me cubría con mi ponchito (uno negro que usaba en las noches terriblemente heladas en este lugar) y luego iba a divagar entre columnas y columnas de libros hasta encontrar uno que llame mi nombre. A los libros los tocaba, sentía su textura, olía ese aroma de papel, tinta y polvo, tocaba sus hojas ligeramente, los balanceaba entre mis manos para determinar su peso, luego al abrirlos por primera vez me fijaba en si las letras eran suficientemente grandes y los espacios entre líneas adecuados para facilitar la lectura, y por último me ponía a leer y buscar entre las páginas una frase o una palabra que hagan ‘clic’ en mi mente y que me indicaran que ése es el libro que ahora tenía que leer.

Mi otra tecnica requiere un poco más de investigación. Una vez que he terminado de leer un libro que me encanta busco las citas que el autor ha incluido en su obra para dirigirme a otros autores y otros libros que de alguna manera influenciaron lo que acabo de leer, y así sucesivamente sigue la cadena.
Fue de esa forma que empecé una vez con Benedetti hace muchísimos años, luego seguí con Mempo Giardinelli y otros autores hasta terminar con Oliverio Girondo; y fue de igual manera con García Márquez que me guió hasta Juan Rulfo y luego a Alejo Carpentier – todos fabulosos escritores.

Ciertos libros, creo yo, tienen el potencial de impactar tu vida de la misma forma que haría alguien al que vez todos los días y llegas a conocer a fondo; es por eso que leo una cosa u otra solamente cuando me siento lista para recibir a todos esos personajes y entenderlos como merecen.

Ahora estoy leyendo “To Kill a Mockingbird” de Harper Lee. Creo que si leía este libro hace un par de años no hubiese podido entender cuán humana es esta obra, o si lo leía antes de vivir en los Estados Unidos tampoco hubiese comprendido el virulento impacto de los prejuicios y racismo que corren en esta sociedad.

Conforme pasa el tiempo y leo a más autores y obras también conozco mejor mis gustos y escucho más al instinto que me indica por lo que debo ir; ahora que lo pienso, me alegra ver que mis ‘técnicas’ de elección de libros son cada vez más precisas y mis elecciones proporcionalmente más acertadas.

Dear London.

Dear London,

I miss you so much.


Yours, Always.

Magu

Sorry...

Yeah, I know… I’ve been as quiet as a dead man around here but, unless I’ve died and haven’t realized it, I’m still kicking – It’s just that, as usual, I haven’t had time or inspiration to post.

Anyway, here I am.

I started my new job today as a quality control inspections coordinator for a multinational organization with locations in more than 112 countries. The job is fun, better than the one I had before, and the environment in the new place seems to be pretty easygoing (at least at first sight). As they tell me I’ll have to learn all the standards and processes in 1/3 of the regular time as I’ll be replacing a girl who’s leaving for grad school in a month and I’ll be in charge of her accounts as she leaves – but I’m pretty smart, so no biggie.

Hmm… went to Canada this weekend and it was fun. Then, uhm.. went to Andrew and Holly’s yesterday for the Brazil-Australia match followed by BBQ South-African style, and for the Friday to come we have tickets to Seinfeld at the Shea’s Performing Arts Center and we have a bottle of Tequila for the get-together after the show, so that should be fun.

Besides that … well, everything else that’s happened is recorded in my Moleskin and I haven’t had the chance to type anything in here so…

Ah, oh yes… The day after tomorrow is my five years anniversary of moving to the USA.

Yeahee!

update

N will be back from India tomorrow, yipiiiiii !!!!!

And, oh yeah, I quit my job yesterday.

You know what?...

Quitting your job sucks.

Starting a new job sucks.

Having your grandpa very sick in the hospital sucks.

Not daring to go to Ecuador to see your grandpa for the last time sucks.

Being alone for three weeks sucks.

Not being able to have a good night sleep sucks.

4x4

Vamos a ver… este meme me lo encontre en el sitio de la Caro Azul, y como soy una copiona, pues aqui va:

Cuatro películas que puedo ver una y otra vez:
1. Chasing Amy
2. Lost in Translation
3. El Lado Oscuro del Corazon
4. Almost Famous

Cuatro lugares donde he vivido:
1. Buffalo, NY
2. Munster, Alemania
3. Phoenix, USA
4. Londres, Inglaterra
(Y un quinto de yapa: Quito, Ecuador)

Cuatro programas de TV que me gusta ver:
1. Lost
2. Battlestar Galactica (el proximo season es en Octubre y no puedo esperar!!!!)
3. Buffy, The Vampire Slayer (Ya se que se termino hace siglos, pero me encanta ver los re-runs una y otra vez)
4. The Office (Cague de risa, cague de risa)

Cuatro lugares favoritos para ir de vacaciones:
1. Ámsterdam (coffeshops + red Light district = paradise)
2. Mindo (naturaleza + amigos = valeverguista diversion)
3. Las Vegas
4. Paris

Cuatro de mis comidas preferidas:
1. Yaguarlocro (rico, rico, rico)
2. Sushi
3. Comida Hindu – Chicken Tikka Massala yummi!
4. Pan recien salido del horno junto a un café de penetrante aroma en Domingo en la manana – Heaven

Cuatro sitios web que visito a diario:
1. NY Times
2. Chromasia
3. Google / Gmail
4. CNN

Cuatro lugares donde quisiera estar ahora:
1. En India, con N, acurrucada en su cama.
2. Con N en nuestro departamento en Londres
3. Con N bebiendonos una cerveza en el All Bar One
4. Bueno, en general con N y en Londres.

Cuatro trabajos que me gustaría tener:
1. English Literature Professor
2. Algo relacionado con fotografia
3. Estudiante profesional
4. Barista de Starbucks (no se por que me atrae la idea!)

Cuatro famosos que he conocido:
1. David Sedaris (Escritor)
2. David Sedaris (es que fui a verlo dos veces, una en NY y otra en Londres)
3. Tina Fey de Satuday Night Live (Mentira! No la conoci yo sino mi novio, pero ya, por asociaciónf!)
4. Blue Man Group

Cuatro platos que detesto:
1. Cualquier porqueria que contenga Col en cualquier estado o preparacion
2. Sopa de habas (quien demonios puede comerse una sopa que apesta???)
3. Sopa de Melloco (pesima idea, Madre)
4. Cualquier cosa que chorree grasa

Cuatro posibles primeras impresiones que causo:
1. Creida de mierda
2. Timida
3. Fuera de lugar
4. Mal genio – jeje :)

Cuatro bebidas favoritas:
1. Agua con una tajita de limon y un par de hielitos
2. Jugo de Naranjilla
3. Vodkita en las rocas
4. El Fruit Juice Blend que tienen en Wagamamas (restaurante de comida japonesa en Londres)

Cuatro olores favoritos:
1. El de mi novio
2. El de mi madre
3. El de café temprano en la manana
4. El de tabaco de pipa

Cuatro cosas que me encanta hacer y que no tienen que ver con mi carrera:
1. En este estoy de acuerdo con la Caro Azul: SEXO!
2. leer, leer, leer
3. salir de caminatas
4. divagar por ciudades grandes, sin mapa -- woohoo!

Cuatro cosas para las que estoy negado:
1. Ver películas de terror en el cine
2. Bailar en publico
3. Ir a fiestas de disfraces
4. Ir a misa

Cuatro cosas que colecciono:
1. Revistas de playboy
2. tickets de cine
3. imanes de refri
4. jarros de starbucks

Cuatro canciones favoritas:
1. Melpómene de Kashmir
2. Enjoy the Silence de Depeche Mode
3. Necesito de Sui Generis
4. Sweet Child of Mine de Guns ‘n Roses

Cuatro libros favoritos:
1. Paula de Isabel Allende
2. El Principito de Antoine Saint-Exupery
3. Lolita de Vladimir Nabokov
4. La insoportable levedad del ser de Milan Kundera

Mi Error

Gracias Nando por tu comentario sobre el poema anterior!
Como Nando bien nos guia, ese poema es escrito por Oliverio Girondo, y es el primero de 24 poemas en prosa que nos ofrece este autor argentino en su libro publicado en 1932, Espantapajaros.

El titulo del post de ayer fue personal, y no tenia que ver con el poema.
Shame-on-me por no poner autor y titulo, y solamente anotar de donde me lo saque.

Y bueno, para hacer las paces con Girondo, aqui va otro de sus poemas; esta vez es el VIII, y viene del mismo libro:

"Yo no tengo una personalidad; yo soy un cocktail, un conglomerado, una manifestación de personalidades. En mí, la personalidad es una especie de forunculosis anímica en estado crónico de erupción; no pasa media hora sin que me nazca una nueva personalidad. Desde que estoy conmigo mismo, es tal la aglomeración de las que me rodean, que mi casa parece el consultorio de una quiromántica de moda. hay personalidades en todas partes: en el vestiíbulo, en el corredor, en la cocina, hasta en el W.C. ¡Imposible lograr un momento de tregua, de descanso! ¡Imposible saber cuál es la verdadera! Aunque me veo forzado a convivir en la promiscuidad más absoluta con todas ellas, no me convenzo de que me pertenezcan. ¿Qué clase de contacto pueden tener conmigo -me pregunto- todas estas personalidades inconfesables, que harían ruborizar a un carnicero? ¿Habré de permitir que se me identifique, por ejemplo, con este pederasta marchito que no tuvo ni el coraje de realizarse, o con este cretinoide cuya sonrisa es capaz de congelar una locomotora? El hecho de que se hospeden en mi cuerpo es suficiente, sin embargo, para enfermarse de indignación. Ya que no puedo ignorar su existencia, quisiera obligarlas a que se oculten en los repliegues más profundos de mi cerebro. Pero son de una petulancia... de un egoísmo... de una falta de tacto. Hasta las personalidades más insignificantes se dan unos aires de trasatlántico. Todas, sin ningun clase de exepción, se consideran con derecho a manifestar un desprecio olímpico por las otras, y naturalmente, hay peleas, conflictos de toda especie, discuciones que no terminan nunca. En vez de contemporizar, ya que tienen que vivir juntas, ¡pues no señor!, cada una pretende imponer su voluntad, sin tomar en cuenta las opiniones y los gustos de las demás. Si alguna tiene una ocurrencia, que me hace reír a carcajadas, en el acto sale cualquier otra, proponiéndome un paseíto al cementerio. Ni bien aquélla desea que me acueste con todas las mujeres de la ciudad, ésta se empeña en demostrarme las ventajas abstinencia, y mientras una abusa de la noche y no me deja dormir hasta la madrugada, la otra despierta con el amanecer y exige que me levante junto con las gallinas. Mi vida resulta así una preñez de posibilidades que no se realizan nunca, una explosión de fuerzas encontradas que se entrechocan y se destruyen mutuamente. El hecho de tomar la menor determinación me cuestra un tal cúmulo de dificultades, antes de cometer el acto más insignificante necesito poner tantas personalidades de acuerdo, que prefiero renunciar a cualquier cosa y esperar que se extenúen discutiendo lo que han de hacer con mi persona, para tener, al menos, la satisfacción de mandarlas todas juntas a la mierda. "

Asi te Quiero.

Me importa un pito que las mujeres tengan los senos como magnolias o como pasas de higo; un cutis de durazno o de papel de lija.
Le doy una importancia igual a cero al hecho de que amanezcan con un aliento afrodisíaco o con un aliento insecticida.
Soy perfectamente capaz de soportar una nariz que sacaría el primer premio en una exposición de zanahorias.
Pero eso si, y en esto soy irreductible, no les perdono bajo ningún concepto que no sepan volar.

Si no saben volar, pierden el tiempo conmigo.

('El Lado Oscuro del Corazon', de Eliseo Subiela)

San Francisco in Jell-O

Woops! Almost forgot to mention about this...
In San Francisco an artist called Liz Hickok created scale models of the city of San Francisco using Jell-O. Due to the fact that Jell-O decays (eh.. duh!) , Hickok took many fotographs and filmed her work so as to show it to those of us who didn't manage to be in the beautiful San Francisco at time to see this project live. So here they are: The picture to your left shows a panoramic view of San Francisco bay. All those colors make me crave yummy Jell-O! In an interview in NPR (National Public Radio), Hickok did mention that in some cases she created two replicas of one model: one to show and another one for people to eat -- wouldn't it be cool to eat the Coit Tower in a single bite? I think it would... (but of course, I am a nerd and get excited by simple things).

The picture in the right shows the Bay Bridge lighted from underneath and with the foggy effects created by-always helpful-dry ice.






For more pictures you can go to LizHickok.com and somewhere in that page there's also a video where you can see the Jell-O in process of decay.

En corto

Como el anterior post estuvo super largo, aqui va uno comprimido:

N se va a la India el Viernes -- 3 semanas. Damn.

My Guide Of London: 20 Things you definitely have to do in the Capital of Europe.

1. Walk along the Thames Path in a nice Saturday afternoon. Start your day with brunch in one of the many restaurants you can find along the south side of the Thames Path. Get started around Tower Bridge and walk west heading towards the London Eye. Along the path you’ll find a wide variety of restaurants, pubs, churches, museums, and historical sites worth seeing.

2. The Shakespeare’s Globe. You definitely cannot miss this. Throughout the year the Globe offers guided tours where they will charm you with the site’s historical background, recounts of the social scenery of the time Shakespeare was running the original Globe, they’ll show techniques used by actors to perform in front of a live audience standing just a foot from them, and if you are lucky enough you’ll get to try on one of the replica costumes from the 16th century. If you are visiting London in the summer time though, you must (and I emphasize the MUST) purchase tickets to one of the plays running at the Globe. If you don’t have much money don’t worry! The cheapest tickets are, to my point of view, the best. For around 10 pounds you’ll be standing so close to the actors that you’ll feel them breath – and I mean this literally because there’s nothing to distance the audience from the stage. The experience overall is outstanding: you’ll get to see the actors interpret Will’s plays just as they did in the 16th century in a stage that is the exact replica of the original site that used to be located in a place just a few feet away from the modern Globe; What can be better than that?

3. Visit the Tate Museum. This museum is located just next door to the Globe, and it guards hundreds of pieces of modern art. The super cool thing about it? Well, there are many super cool things about the Tate! One of them is that its permanent exhibition is free, and another one is that you’ll get to see pieces from Andy Warhol to Frieda Kahlo all in the same place! And don’t forget to observe and admire the building where the Tate is located. Originally it used to be an electric plant so the building is a massive and seemingly dull structure but if you really pay attention to it, you’ll admire it as a great representative of contemporary architecture.

Ok. Once you’re done with the Globe and the Tate you’ll be too tired to do much else, but please give yourself the opportunity to exploit and explore as much as you can in London. This city has so many things to offer that a whole year in it won’t be enough as to get to know it from head to toe, much less if you’re there just on vacation, so let’s keep going and follow my next advice:

4. The Millennium Bridge. You’re out of the Tate Museum, you’re carrying the replicas of Modigliani’s work that you bought as a souvenir, and now it’s time for you to walk across the Millennium Bridge towards St. Paul’s cathedral, in the city of Westminster. The Millennium Bridge was built as one of the pieces of architecture to open in celebration of the new Millennium, thus its name, and it’s the only bridge exclusively for pedestrians you’ll find in the area. The bridge is a work of art on its own; before you cross it make sure to take a few pictures of it because it’s really that beautiful (I myself took a few shots of the bridge with the Tate Museum right behind it and a beautiful sunset light illuminating both of them – brilliant!), and while you are crossing it also pay attention to the buildings in the surrounding area. By the way, the opening of the Millennium Bridge on the millennium year was nothing but a fiasco. The engineers who built it didn’t calculate the strength of the lateral motion of the bridge when it has hundreds of people walking across it so in order to protect the public from falling down the bridge due to this movement authorities closed the bridge on the same day it was opened to the public for the first time. One year and 5 million pounds later the bridge was re-opened and is now serving to tourists and locals to walk across the Thames.

5. St. Paul’s Cathedral. Right, so you are on the other side of the river and the first thing you see right in front of you is St. Paul’s Cathedral’s cupola – walk towards the cupola and visit this beautiful cathedral, the only one to survive almost intact to the bombings during World War I and II.

6. Strada Restaurant. You’re done with the cathedral and you are terribly hungry, what to do? Easy! Just walk across the street to a restaurant called Strada where they serve fabulous Italian food at very convenient prices. If you don’t know what to order you can do what I do, just pick something randomly and enjoy – if you’re in Strada, 9.9 out of 10 dishes you order you are definitely going to like, but if you want to play it safe, then go for the Risotto Frutti di Mare and order a bottle of the house wine. Don’t forget to make a toast on my name, sit back and submerge yourself on the delights of this trendy Italian restaurant in the heart of London.

7. Westminster Abbey. Let me see… Now, go back to the tube and do the following: take Jubilee, the district or the circle lines to Westminster station and from there visit Westminster Abbey. If you’re into the Davinci Code wave then you’ll know what to do; if you are not, then just go into the Abbey and admire its structure. To add some fun to it, you can play to find tombs of all the famous death people buried there! Just to mention a few: Charles Darwin, Geoffrey Chaucer (I was so excited when I saw this one!), Samuel Johnson (you ignorant people who don’t know who he is, Johnson is the father of the Modern English Dictionary, and one of the finest critics of English Literature), Rudyard Kipling, and Isaac Newton – Not to mention Queen Elizabeth I, Queen Mary, King Henry VIII, and a whole bunch of other members of the British royalty who have made of Westminster Abbey their permanent residence until the end of times.

8. The Parliament and the Big Ben. After this visit walk towards the Parliament and go see the Big Ben. If you want you can take the tour of the Parliament, but that takes forever.

9. Westminster Bridge. Cross the Westminster Bridge and make it a point to take a bunch of pictures. You’ll get a fabulous view of the Big Ben and the London eye from this place.

10. The London Eye. Now that you’re so close to it, walk towards the London eye. If you are smart you’ll purchase tickets to take a ride ahead of time, if you are not that smart you’ll wait in line for a couple of hours (specially in the summer time or in sunny days with a clear sky) for your tickets. Again, make a point to take hundreds of pictures and pay attention to the location of all the places you’ve visited until now. The ride in the London eye gives you a first hand opportunity to orientate yourself and every site you’ve visited until now – and if you are ‘orientationally’ challenged, like me, this will be of much help to get to know the city better.


11. Tower Bridge. Wow, so much to do, so little time left… Ok. Now, go down to the tube and take the Jubilee, District, or Circle line towards London Bridge. If you take the right exit you’ll get out facing north of the station, in this case just keep walking east and look around you—you’ll see several tunnels to the right of the streets, in one of them my beloved Chris Martin filmed one of the latest Coldplay videos, I think it was ‘Talk’. Anyway, don’t stop there and keep walking towards the tower bridge, once you’re almost there you’ll see the City Hall building, a very strange shaped building but worth seeing (you can take a ride to the top of the building and have a very nice view of London from up there if you want, if not, just keep walking), and right in front of it is the Tower Bridge, well known by everybody who’s ever seen a picture of London. Cross the bridge, take pictures, enjoy, and if you want you can go to the museum they have inside the towers.


12. The Tower of London. Once you’re done with the Tower Bridge walk to the left of the bridge in the north side of the river and go to the Tower of London. This squarely looking place keeps the amazing crown jewels which you’ll get to see if you go inside it, and historically it’s a place where many kings and queens once lived and where a few of them were decapitated also. Very nice!

13. Fleet Street and The Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese Pub. Now that you are in this area, take the tube towards Fleet Street nowadays home of many prosperous businesses, but originally known as a shady part of London. Still, if you walk east facing St. Paul’s cathedral, to the left of the Fleet Street you’ll find a street called Wine Office Court; go in there and passing a little dark tunnel you’ll find one of my favorite pubs in London, The Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese. This fabulous place is one of the oldest pubs in the city (data as to pubs in this site date as far back as 1538; in 1666 it was destroyed by the great fire and later re-established in 1667) and it’s the same place where Charles Dickens, Samuel Johnson and Mark Twain spent many nights having few drinks and a nice chat with the mates. Don’t be intimidated by the dark environment and small stairs inside the pub as it is all part of its charm. Just walk down the stairs towards the ‘dungeon’, as I call it, and there you can order food and eat in the same table where the famous writers I mentioned before used to eat! Superb!

14. Dr. Samuel Johnson’s House. Keep walking to the end of this alley, make a left, keep walking, you’ll find a little plaza there, keep walking straight, make a right, keep walking and you’ll get to Gough Square where you’ll see a little bronze sculpture of a cat. This is Dr. Samuel Johnson’s cat, Hodge, which, according to its owner, was no less than “a fine cat indeed”. Facing east from the sculpture you’ll find Dr. Johnson’s own house! Nowadays his house is a museum dedicated to this fabulous man and his work.

15. Notting Hill and Portobello Market. Now to a totally different area. From downtown London, take the central line west towards Notting Hill. Try to visit it on a Saturday when it is really upbeat and populated (which I personally love, but if you’re not into crowds then any other day will do). At Portobello market you’ll find thousands of antiques for sale (be careful! Some of those antiques have been recently ‘antiqued’ to fool the inexperienced eye), and there are also many stores with super chic clothes – some rich, famous and beautiful actors and actresses live in the area, so keep your eyes open and maybe you can spot my beloved Jude Law shopping around there.

16. Piccadilly Circus, Regent’s Street, and Oxford Street. From here you can take the Piccadilly line to visit Piccadilly Circus – walk around there for a while, go window shopping through Regent’s street (stores there are so ridiculously expensive that it’s unlikely you’ll be able to do more than just ‘window shop’) and then get to Oxford Street which is another place where you’ll find hundreds of stores at more affordable prices—although I never shopped there because the things they sell are not only cheap but also look cheap which I don’t like—anyway, it’s worth seeing.

17. St. Christopher’s Place. If you’re tired of oxford street take the central line towards Bond Street Station. Take the exit towards oxford street, walk across the street heading to H&M and pay attention to a little alley next to this store, this is St. Christopher’s place. Keep walking and you’ll find a little plaza with lots of restaurants. There’s a café where they sell super good sandwiches, there’s also a pizza express, a Greek food restaurant and an Italian food restaurant. Keep walking and you’ll find several jewelry stores and towards the end of the street, right in front of a store called Whistles, there’s a building perfectly concealed as a private condominium, that is actually a hotel and that’s where N and I lived for a month when we just arrived to London.

18. Kensington High Street and Holland Park. Ok. With only three more things to mention in the list we have to be pragmatic. If you like to go shopping then quick! Go underground and take the district line towards Kensington High Street and go bananas in this fabulous area where you can find beautiful clothes at expensive prices ;) Keep walking and you’ll find Holland Park. Please dedicate as much time as you can to this place because it’s beautiful – try and find a map of the park and look for the Japanese area of the park where you really feel as if you were in Kyoto.

19. Harrods. You gotta go to Harrods! That store you cannot miss, and buy something to eat there—everything they have is delicious although expensive.

20. Trafalgar Square and its surroundings. Last but not least… Go online and buy tickets to the theater. You can’t live London without going to see a play, so once you’ve got your tickets go with a few hours to spend in Trafalgar Square and the National Museum, then walk north towards Covent Garden, browse at the stores (they have crazy things in that area), and then go to the theater; any play will do.

21. British Museum. Ok. 21… I know! But this is a bonus and I must mention this because once in London you must go to the British Museum. It’s free so don’t worry if the theatre tickets and the High Street shopping left you broke! Enjoy the British, its architecture, the works of art it keeps. Make a point of seeing the Rosetta stone and go to the library – two things you can’t miss.

The 'I Believe' Series.

The National Public Radio has an ongoing project, the 'I believe' series, in which they call people to contribute in writing short essays (around 500 words) where they tell about what they believe in. The project looks for positive essays where people focus on the subjects they actually believe in, not in those they do not believe, and that tell the story of what was that led people to believe in a determinate matter.

"I believe there is no God", "I believe in Creativity", "I believe in imagination", are just a few of the many I believes that people have sent to NPR, but here's one that I found today and that I particularly like, "I believe there is more to life than my life", by Jamaica Ritcher.

In a way, this short, simple, straight to the point, emotional and yet very rational essay, gives voice to what I believe: that although there's no life after life, death is nevertheless not an end to what we are; death is just one of a series of changes in which we all have taken part for millions of years, a step that's far from the last but the first one to build new paths, and new life—even if it’s not life as we now know it. So here it is, for your enjoyment, Jamaica Ritcher's 'I Believe'.

My daughter Maia is 2 and has just asked about our cat. Our cat is dead. Maia knows this. What she's wondering is where he's gone and what has happened to him now that he no longer meows beneath her kitchen chair, impatient for the drips off her spoon.

This is the moment I realize I need to know what I believe.

My parents were straightforward in admitting they didn't know what happens when we die. As a child, I probably lost a solid year of sleep pondering that enormous mystery. Bone-still under the covers I lay awake picturing my future of eternal nothingness and wracked by the tragedy of no more Me. The subject still haunts me. I'd like Maia's attitude to be slightly healthier. This is what I bring to composing an answer to her question about the cat.

After a weighty pause I tell my daughter that Martin (the cat) is out in the field. I tell her that when animals, including people, die, they are usually put into the ground and that their bodies become the grasses, flowers and trees. I pass my hand over Maia's blonde curls, gently touch a rosy cheek and check her reaction. She appears untroubled. She seems thrilled by the thought of one day becoming a flower.

I am stunned. In this exchange, I actually realize what I believe, as if so many fragments from my life -- camping trips and nature walks, pangs of sympathy, awe toward the crashing sea and towering skyscraper, love, science class, motherhood -- have suddenly converged into one unified conviction: not that I'm destined for plant fertilizer, but that there is more to life than my life. I am not the lonely human, plunked down on earth to aimlessly wander. I am a part of that earth and not going anywhere -- just like the spider up in the corner, the dust on the sill and the cat I buried in the backyard. I watch Maia mull things over while she munches her Cheerios. I feel an unfamiliar calm. I feel connected. I am humbled and, what's more, happy. Life, death: both are all around me, within my every breath.

Later, I reach for my daughter's hand and we muddy our shoes with a springtime walk. Together, we see new leaves glowing against the sun, green hillsides shimmering with the breeze, the bright purple bursts of lupine. And it's okay if there is nothing beyond this, because there is this: life, everlasting, in the bloom of every flower.

Posted in NPR.org, on April 24, 2006.

Chihuly's Sun, at Night

Chihuly's Sun, at Night
Originally uploaded by magusita.

For Photo Friday, GOLDEN.

rootless

I opened a group called Quito in Flickr a few months ago. It’s just now that I’ve taken some time to browse at all the pictures people have posted and I have bitter sweet feelings about it. On one side, I love to see that placed lovingly portrayed by people who live or have spent some time in Quito, but on the other side it pains me that I no longer recognize around 90% of the places where those pictures were taken. It sucks living in a place for 18 years, then move out, then look at pictures and see it all so changed and distant that makes me wonder whether or not I ever really lived there.
Meanwhile, all the rest, all the family, all the friends, all the childhood memories and teenage adventures are completely framed by Quito. But it almost feels as if the city was like an artificial stage that I built only in my mind and that, like dreams, faded in an instant of light; almost the same thing that happens with my time in London.

I love moving around, living in new places, getting to know people, having all these experiences that otherwise I wouldn’t have, but I hate not having any roots anywhere. It’s almost as if none of the places I’ve lived in have that little something that states that once I was there.

Damn lightness of being.

On Work, Lolita, and something more (I guess)

Did I happen to mention that I am working? (duh!, of course I did!)
Not that I’m complaining or anything, but I don’t have much time for anything but work lately, and the few hours I have away from the office I spend working out and watching TV; the last thing I want to do when I get home is turning on my laptop and spend yet another hour answering e-mails or typing, thus the lack of updates in this place.

Anyway, I am happy to say that I am enjoying my job very much. The environment is very open and friendly, people are nice, the job itself is interesting, and I am busy all the time which makes the days go by so fast that I can’t believe it’s Saturday already!.

I have been reading “Lolita” by Vladimir Nabokov in the last couple of weeks and I am perplexed by this book’s narrative, as well as by the disturbing topic it deals with (pedophilia). “Lolita”, for those of you who haven’t read it, is Humbert Humbert’s autobiography led by a ‘love story’ (I use the quotation marks because what is ‘love’ in this story can be lengthy discussed) between this man and a thirteen years old girl, Lolita.

Thirteen years old! Come on! Well, the book is such a fabulous piece of literature that for more than its first half you keep reading and reading Humbert’s explanation of why he is attracted to nymphets (or sexually aware and desirable young girls) that it becomes something so natural in its context that, at moments, it hardly seems wrong. However, eventually in the book you start realizing the deep and negative impact this kind of relationship has on Lolita, and although the reader can notice plenty of dysfunctional moments throughout the book it is not until the last second half that something lights on Humbert’s mind and he starts realizing the harm he caused to this girl, although he never repents on it –so blinded is he by his passion and sexual desire for his Lo.

So! Now that I’m done with “Lolita” (I even watched Stanley Kubrick’s film version of it last night!), I’m getting started with “The Great Gatsby” sometime this weekend … I’ll let you know how that one goes. Right now I’m listening to The Boards of Canada, super cool electronic music, perfect for Saturday morning.