lunes, marzo 27, 2006
Last-minute announcements (or, The News of the World)
Don't miss it!
The course by the Masters (Rock y Literatura, Educación Continua, FFyL) began today. Today's session was very, very inspiring. I am very excited. If you are in any way interested in taking it, you'll be happy to know that it's not too late. You can sign up this week (Friday at the latest and the sooner the better, since we get our Course Packs next Monday.)
For Sale
We bought a new washer and a stove last month, and we still haven't got rid of the old ones. If any of you are interested, ask!! I am REALLY anxious to get rid of them. They are both in good working order, especially the washer. I am somewhat taking liberties since they belong to my mom and not me but I guess this is as good a space as any. I am certain they should be quite inexpensive.
Disaster
Our condominium is rationing the water: 5.30-9.00, 14.00-15.30, 20.00-22.00. Grrr.
New Canine Fashion
Our dog is sporting a very short, trendy haircut. (Don't worry, no puffs). She looks like a cheap plushie and has to wear a sweater.
Weather Report
Watch out for sudden showers (of rain and lilac flowers) and lovely Spring Rain smells.
Restaurant of the Week
Hacienda de San Miguelito, downtown Querétaro. Wonderful food and music in a Colonial Spanish environment.
Help Wanted
Looking for excellent poem in Spanish about love or passion, to be recited during a tango dance number. Suggestions accepted. Short poems preferred.
Don't miss it!
The course by the Masters (Rock y Literatura, Educación Continua, FFyL) began today. Today's session was very, very inspiring. I am very excited. If you are in any way interested in taking it, you'll be happy to know that it's not too late. You can sign up this week (Friday at the latest and the sooner the better, since we get our Course Packs next Monday.)
For Sale
We bought a new washer and a stove last month, and we still haven't got rid of the old ones. If any of you are interested, ask!! I am REALLY anxious to get rid of them. They are both in good working order, especially the washer. I am somewhat taking liberties since they belong to my mom and not me but I guess this is as good a space as any. I am certain they should be quite inexpensive.
Disaster
Our condominium is rationing the water: 5.30-9.00, 14.00-15.30, 20.00-22.00. Grrr.
New Canine Fashion
Our dog is sporting a very short, trendy haircut. (Don't worry, no puffs). She looks like a cheap plushie and has to wear a sweater.
Weather Report
Watch out for sudden showers (of rain and lilac flowers) and lovely Spring Rain smells.
Restaurant of the Week
Hacienda de San Miguelito, downtown Querétaro. Wonderful food and music in a Colonial Spanish environment.
Help Wanted
Looking for excellent poem in Spanish about love or passion, to be recited during a tango dance number. Suggestions accepted. Short poems preferred.
miércoles, marzo 22, 2006
Spring is here...
(Pic taken from here)
Ah, a time for blooming, sun shining, birds singing, loove... and cruelly warm days. So why is it that I want to hibernate in Spring and not Winter? I must have been put together wrong. Still, I just got an inspiration (and I do mean right this second): I want to be in a water-balloon war! yay! (now to find one...)
OOOOOOOOPS
Sorry. I think today is actually International Save the Water Day or something. So my suggestion is going to have to be taken back for the sake of The Planet. (Boy, does it make me mad when my personal life is affected by what our foolish ancestors and cohabitants of the planet--and, I don't kid myself, even me, even though I try--have done. Global Warming and no water. Nice.)
I have always been afraid of the End of the World. Is this it? Or worse, not the end, but the Horror Sequel to the World?
(Pic taken from here)Ah, a time for blooming, sun shining, birds singing, loove... and cruelly warm days. So why is it that I want to hibernate in Spring and not Winter? I must have been put together wrong. Still, I just got an inspiration (and I do mean right this second): I want to be in a water-balloon war! yay! (now to find one...)
OOOOOOOOPS
Sorry. I think today is actually International Save the Water Day or something. So my suggestion is going to have to be taken back for the sake of The Planet. (Boy, does it make me mad when my personal life is affected by what our foolish ancestors and cohabitants of the planet--and, I don't kid myself, even me, even though I try--have done. Global Warming and no water. Nice.)
I have always been afraid of the End of the World. Is this it? Or worse, not the end, but the Horror Sequel to the World?
sábado, marzo 18, 2006
Y ahora un anuncio de nuestro principal patrocinador:
La Madre Naturaleza!!!
Si tienen un minuto, por favor firmen aquí. Ayudemos.
La Madre Naturaleza!!!
Si tienen un minuto, por favor firmen aquí. Ayudemos.
Tex, Mex
As usual, this post comes a bit late; it should have been written a week ago. I'm afraid that this week has found me tense, angry, and with a nagging feeling of dissatisfaction. It's been a long time since I felt like this. Worse, I really don't know what it is, unless I'm feeling subconsciously guilty about not getting any work done but rebelliously determined not to do it "today". Still, that is not what I'm here to write about. I want to tell you about one of my ghost towns: Texcoco, Mexico, which was revisited last weekend after a semi-long time.
There are two main reasons why that region is special to me.
In the first place, it's the site of many childhood (un)memories. My grandparents used to own a country house in Tepetlaoxtoc, quite close to (or next to?) Texcoco. I remember the way to Tepe, especially the trees. I don't even know what they're called ("pirules" or something like that). Those little red seeds hanging down always intrigued me. I remember a flood. I remember all of us (back then, "all of us" consisted of me, my two sisters, and my cousins Cali and Manuel) sitting on the edge of a brown Ford with the trunk open, our feet hanging out of the car. I remember going to buy tortillas and meat to the town square. I remember having my first nightmare: I opened one of the doors to the bedrooms (a bright blue in my dream) and a tiger jumped out at me. I remember wanting to name a new puppy Snoopy and not being allowed because it was female. I remember chickens, horses (Catrina, Zanahoria), dogs (the Afghans: Oriana, Miel; the German shepherds: Winnie, Osa; the Maltese and Lhasa--their names now lost to history until I ask my mom). I remember a dollhouse my grandfather built. I remember the absolute hugeness of the house and gardens; I remember the rose garden; I remember being read, on a bed huge beyond belief, the story of Tom Thumb when the giant chops off his daughters' heads and being absolutely shocked (this is the moment that, paradoxically, I identify as the moment when my love of reading was born). I don't remember, but I know (see photo), that all our birthday parties took place there. I remember the pool which said Zopi on the bottom, a tribute to Abuela from Abuelo. I remember losing that house forever after it was rented and then sold. (This all happened before I turned 6, which is why it is all so dim and far away). I remember going back ten years later and being disappointed in finding it so small and angry that the new owners had changed it.
In my teen years, Texcoco became, once again, the site of my longing. We visited our friends who lived there two or three times a year--the family of a famous bullfighter. I had my "most terrible" accident there: a horse ran away with my sister and I on its back, and when we jumped off it kicked my ankle, cutting short our volunteer job at the Chapultepec Zoo. BUT, most importantly, it was the home of The Most Beautiful Man I had ever (have ever) seen. I had a passive, unexpressed, Platonic crush on him (based mostly on NOT knowing him at all well but knowing that we understood each other); once I saw two rainbows, one on top of the other, there, and interpreted it as a lucky omen. I remember once being told that I was beautiful and sexy during a long, heartfelt midnight talk in front of the chimney (the memory of that talk sustained me through moments of heartbreak and low self esteem for a long, long time). It was, all in all, a place of dreams. They have long since been reconsidered, but the meaning of the place remains. Texcoco is, one way or the other, the site of a somewhat achy nostalgia associated with old lost loves.
Going back, now that I think about it, was quite a shock. I did not go back to the same place, I did not go with the same people. My grandparents are both dead now. New loves have replaced the old ones. My old friends and my crush are MARRIED and/or living someplace else. But, once more, a loving memory is added to the long list, and, for once, it is a memory in which I am actually LOVED BACK by a man I love. I feel very, very lucky.
As usual, this post comes a bit late; it should have been written a week ago. I'm afraid that this week has found me tense, angry, and with a nagging feeling of dissatisfaction. It's been a long time since I felt like this. Worse, I really don't know what it is, unless I'm feeling subconsciously guilty about not getting any work done but rebelliously determined not to do it "today". Still, that is not what I'm here to write about. I want to tell you about one of my ghost towns: Texcoco, Mexico, which was revisited last weekend after a semi-long time.
There are two main reasons why that region is special to me.
In the first place, it's the site of many childhood (un)memories. My grandparents used to own a country house in Tepetlaoxtoc, quite close to (or next to?) Texcoco. I remember the way to Tepe, especially the trees. I don't even know what they're called ("pirules" or something like that). Those little red seeds hanging down always intrigued me. I remember a flood. I remember all of us (back then, "all of us" consisted of me, my two sisters, and my cousins Cali and Manuel) sitting on the edge of a brown Ford with the trunk open, our feet hanging out of the car. I remember going to buy tortillas and meat to the town square. I remember having my first nightmare: I opened one of the doors to the bedrooms (a bright blue in my dream) and a tiger jumped out at me. I remember wanting to name a new puppy Snoopy and not being allowed because it was female. I remember chickens, horses (Catrina, Zanahoria), dogs (the Afghans: Oriana, Miel; the German shepherds: Winnie, Osa; the Maltese and Lhasa--their names now lost to history until I ask my mom). I remember a dollhouse my grandfather built. I remember the absolute hugeness of the house and gardens; I remember the rose garden; I remember being read, on a bed huge beyond belief, the story of Tom Thumb when the giant chops off his daughters' heads and being absolutely shocked (this is the moment that, paradoxically, I identify as the moment when my love of reading was born). I don't remember, but I know (see photo), that all our birthday parties took place there. I remember the pool which said Zopi on the bottom, a tribute to Abuela from Abuelo. I remember losing that house forever after it was rented and then sold. (This all happened before I turned 6, which is why it is all so dim and far away). I remember going back ten years later and being disappointed in finding it so small and angry that the new owners had changed it.
In my teen years, Texcoco became, once again, the site of my longing. We visited our friends who lived there two or three times a year--the family of a famous bullfighter. I had my "most terrible" accident there: a horse ran away with my sister and I on its back, and when we jumped off it kicked my ankle, cutting short our volunteer job at the Chapultepec Zoo. BUT, most importantly, it was the home of The Most Beautiful Man I had ever (have ever) seen. I had a passive, unexpressed, Platonic crush on him (based mostly on NOT knowing him at all well but knowing that we understood each other); once I saw two rainbows, one on top of the other, there, and interpreted it as a lucky omen. I remember once being told that I was beautiful and sexy during a long, heartfelt midnight talk in front of the chimney (the memory of that talk sustained me through moments of heartbreak and low self esteem for a long, long time). It was, all in all, a place of dreams. They have long since been reconsidered, but the meaning of the place remains. Texcoco is, one way or the other, the site of a somewhat achy nostalgia associated with old lost loves.
Going back, now that I think about it, was quite a shock. I did not go back to the same place, I did not go with the same people. My grandparents are both dead now. New loves have replaced the old ones. My old friends and my crush are MARRIED and/or living someplace else. But, once more, a loving memory is added to the long list, and, for once, it is a memory in which I am actually LOVED BACK by a man I love. I feel very, very lucky.
miércoles, marzo 15, 2006
Rats!
Between one thing and another, I haven't written a single word of my thesis since I came back to Mexico. So for your edification, some comments on writing, assignments and writer's block, courtesy of our friend Waterson. Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and it will be gone. Most likely though, I will have to work at it. If I can force myself to get up in time to work out at 7 am, this should be a snap! (I'm a big fan of sleep, obviously).
Between one thing and another, I haven't written a single word of my thesis since I came back to Mexico. So for your edification, some comments on writing, assignments and writer's block, courtesy of our friend Waterson. Maybe tomorrow I will wake up and it will be gone. Most likely though, I will have to work at it. If I can force myself to get up in time to work out at 7 am, this should be a snap! (I'm a big fan of sleep, obviously).
viernes, marzo 10, 2006
Top 5 reasons why blogging is a delight
1. I like the thought of casting a shadow. I don't presume that this thing MIRRORS me in any way; it doesn't. It is just a shadow made by the whole that is me when looked at from a certain light.
2. Frankly, I derive the most delight in reading other's blogs, not mine. But, as a consequence, this might mean that someone derives pleasure from reading mine.
3. The world at my fingertips!!! BWA HAHAHAHA (I am the MASTER/MISTRESS of this space!)
4. Is this a world of thought we are creating? Or (just) a tiny universe?
5. Oh oh! There had to be five???
(6. Sharing words that are shaped by millions of tiny lightbulbs... Words of light, tiny lightbulbs being lighted, literally, by the lightbulbs that go on in our heads! Isn't that just lovely?)
1. I like the thought of casting a shadow. I don't presume that this thing MIRRORS me in any way; it doesn't. It is just a shadow made by the whole that is me when looked at from a certain light.
2. Frankly, I derive the most delight in reading other's blogs, not mine. But, as a consequence, this might mean that someone derives pleasure from reading mine.
3. The world at my fingertips!!! BWA HAHAHAHA (I am the MASTER/MISTRESS of this space!)
4. Is this a world of thought we are creating? Or (just) a tiny universe?
5. Oh oh! There had to be five???
(6. Sharing words that are shaped by millions of tiny lightbulbs... Words of light, tiny lightbulbs being lighted, literally, by the lightbulbs that go on in our heads! Isn't that just lovely?)
miércoles, marzo 08, 2006
No title, no reason
It's been a long time since I actually felt like writing out of the blue. I have been quasi-drowning under a deluge of work/paper/obligations, even twisting handles to get to books labeled with funny numbers and letters that make no sense to me (PN2836, anybody?). The PLEASURE of reading as just pleasure sometimes seems to slip away, since I haven't actually read anything new in a long time--I divide my time between rereading old loves a thousand times and reading for academic purposes, usually against the clock. Is this the wonder of being a lit student? God, I sometimes feel so VERY unintelligent. (Even rereading what I'm writing right now is a weird experience--as soon as words fly out of my fingers they become something-other-than-mine).
Still, I can feel the wheels moving, in a sort of Alice-running-as-fast-as-she-can-just-to-stay-in-one-place-way. But soon I hope I will get to Square 1 and be crowned Queen (not that I have any idea of what I will do when I am). [Hey! so many Queens these days]
In the meantime, I just hope to have the discipline to GET THINGS DONE!! I got into a sort of rhythm at Berkeley but I seem to have left it there, probably under the fragrant and trampled White Gardenias. So now I'll just give birth to a new one, one that can incorporate the stuff I was free from here... my mon-tue-wed temp job (almost done now), the cancer translation project, the WSB bibliography, and my beloved BED!!!!
So now, from the latter, I just pour out my mind in the hope that something beautiful comes out.
PS And welcome to Mr. Narchi, who is now a blogger. Check him out! (Click on Calle Poesia... I still haven't figured out how to link from this machine...)
It's been a long time since I actually felt like writing out of the blue. I have been quasi-drowning under a deluge of work/paper/obligations, even twisting handles to get to books labeled with funny numbers and letters that make no sense to me (PN2836, anybody?). The PLEASURE of reading as just pleasure sometimes seems to slip away, since I haven't actually read anything new in a long time--I divide my time between rereading old loves a thousand times and reading for academic purposes, usually against the clock. Is this the wonder of being a lit student? God, I sometimes feel so VERY unintelligent. (Even rereading what I'm writing right now is a weird experience--as soon as words fly out of my fingers they become something-other-than-mine).
Still, I can feel the wheels moving, in a sort of Alice-running-as-fast-as-she-can-just-to-stay-in-one-place-way. But soon I hope I will get to Square 1 and be crowned Queen (not that I have any idea of what I will do when I am). [Hey! so many Queens these days]
In the meantime, I just hope to have the discipline to GET THINGS DONE!! I got into a sort of rhythm at Berkeley but I seem to have left it there, probably under the fragrant and trampled White Gardenias. So now I'll just give birth to a new one, one that can incorporate the stuff I was free from here... my mon-tue-wed temp job (almost done now), the cancer translation project, the WSB bibliography, and my beloved BED!!!!
So now, from the latter, I just pour out my mind in the hope that something beautiful comes out.
PS And welcome to Mr. Narchi, who is now a blogger. Check him out! (Click on Calle Poesia... I still haven't figured out how to link from this machine...)
martes, marzo 07, 2006
I'm back! (or getting there....)
This is my first post on my new iBook. (And, given that my mom's laptop is called the Duchess, this might as well be called the White Queen). Anyway, here are some highlights of my trip to San Francisco and Berkeley:
Warm people (new friends, family, strangers)
3 birthdays, a million celebrations
I failed as a DJ in the White Party
Met Cornell's and Calder's art in person
Lovely views
Oysters and exquisite, exotic foods
Too much salsa/reggaeton/"latin" music
Lovely lovely movable stacks
I did not buy even ONE book! (Freak of nature)
An insider's tour of Berkeley (virtual) and SF (real)
Crossing Strawberry Creek
BART BART BART BART BART
and much, much more!
It's actually a bit of a shock, being back home and in the old routine... It has all gone by too fast. Maybe tomorrow I'll open my eyes and I'll be a beatlesque 64...
