give me your purity

When I look into this little boy’s eyes, I get lost in imagining how pure his tiny body is. I submerge myself in him, and at the end of the day I feel like he has given me a little of his natural beauty and purity. I don’t know how long it lasts within my polluted body, but I wonder how do we grow up to be the people that we are, and yet feel so unworthy in front of a tiny child…

-ing

hoping that my headache would go away
committing in putting an end to the mess in my kitchen

planning on going to the beach later

regretting not being able to accomplish more things this week

wishing that I was high above on a plane

trying to restrain from meat

listening to All Things Considered

saying hello to the world!

Promises to Self (belated new year/lifetime resolutions)

(I refuse to number them; they are infinite)
-live by the ocean- each time that I am by the water, I have this unbearable need to live there. It’s truly not about having a luxury; it’s about being close to the waves, and constantly breathing in and out the ocean scent. I could not think of any better place to raise a family. Sometimes I can hardly resist from walking into a home and making it mine. Again it’s not about envying the people that live there and lusting for their fates...mine is almost like a calling, a most important need that I have to fulfill. When I leave from the water’s edge, weird things happen to my mode of transportation, i.e. my feet, wheels of car/bicycle become immobile and start to gravitate towards the water again….(ok maybe this last one is a bit too exaggerate but I swear if it was at all possible, it would happen). So whatever the cost and even if I have to live in tiny kiosk, I must live there.
-pleasing/nurturing body and spirit-it might sound too selfish, but really it’s not. Pleasing my body and spirit, would generally make me amore serene, healthier and more content person. In return I would be more dedicated to the people that I love, and much nicer person as a whole (not that I am not).
-having breakfast with g-more time together, but also starting a healthy routine. I have heard it over and over from my mom, and read it in many places that breakfast is one of the most important meals of the day. I believe it, now I just have to make use of it.
-create a budget for traveling-doesn’t need much explanation, it’s everyone’s dream. The most important thing about traveling for me is that each time I come back from a trip I come back changed in so many aspects. I take with me little pieces here and there from each place I visit, and almost unconsciously they become part of my life in the city that I live. Change doesn’t only come from the place that I visit; I have observed that I am also more aware about changes around me (changes that have already occurred, or potential changes). My parents must be somewhat to “blame” for this need. Even in the days when they were so busy at work, they found the time to take us on road-trips around the state during the weekends. Thanks to them I have visited every corner and niche of Florida, and elsewhere in and outside the country.
-live in the moment-be aware, alive, and attentive for each moment of my day. Truly conquer and live it.
-----

beautiful moment

What was your best moment from today?

I will tell you mine, exchanging emails about future goals and dreams with my (I cannot believe I have to call him this now, it sounds so cheesy and corny) hubbie. Oh...and then listening to Frank Sinatra sing Fly me to the Moon, early in the morning...

walking

Lately, I have been overcome by a keen passion for walking.

Not much words, just pictures from today's walk.

What’s in my bag?

After reading Traveller One's entry on the bag meme, I decided I would share with you all the items in my bag. I tag Eni, Alida, Tea, Eda, and Tena to do the same.

Items in my bag:
1. pink wallet
2. keys
3. penny
4. pen
5. pencil
6. pair of earrings
7. black hair pin
8. button with Chinese characters
9. clove or garlic-don’t ask why-it’s an Albanian thing forced to me by my mom
10. little red bag for coins (currently empty)
11. Virginia Woolf book
12. ginger hand lotion
13. tampon
14. sun glasses
15. shell found at the beach
16. post it yellow notes
17. lip gloss
18. lip balm
19. a piece of paper with notes on it
20. shea butter hand cream
21. doctor’s card
22. ipod
23. 2 black stones
24. notary seal
25. paper from doctor’s office
26. battery
27. tissue
28. cell phone
29. (my camera would be in there as well, but since I had to use it to take the picture it’s absent)

Vajza me Trëndafil

Sot nuk ngopem se degjuari kete kenge te vjeter te Anita Takes.

Me ndjell mall, me fal emocione me nje thjeshtesi qe tashme ka humbur. Me ben te vallzoj.

Rrugës kur shkon duke qeshur

Një trëndafil mban në dorë

Flokët të thurur kurorë

Më e bukura për mua je

Natën do t'vij në bahçen tënde

Trëndafilat do ti pres

Do të përgjoj un'ty me ëndje

Herët në mëngjes

Kur do kalosh çapkëne

Në rrugë e menduar

Se sot pa lule ke mbetur

Thua mos vallë në e ke gjetur

Se trëndafilat kush ti pret

Lule mos mbaj nëpër duar

Ato s'ta shtojnë bukurinë

Ti ke për mua freskinë

Se trëndafil ti vetë je.

p.s. kengen mund ta degjoni ketu: http://www.fajtori.com/albumi.php?al=Anita_Take

-Do you ever feel like you are just disappearing?
-All the time…

The silence of waiting.

I have noticed lately that my life is like that of a person who every morning awaits at the station for the bus to come. That person never sits a the station, he (for the sake of not mentioning he/she constantly I will just assume this person a he, but he could just as well be a she) is too fidgety and edgy to be sitting down. He constantly steps off the curb to see if the bus is visible from a distance. If the bus does not come on time, he will be late for work and would have to deal with that ass-whole of boss about why he was late again.

Everyday I get out in the front yard around 3:00pm to perform my ritual: watering the roses and other plants. Watering is my way of sticking out my head to see if the bus is coming or not. I bet my roses are the happiest plants in the block and probably consider themselves lucky to get that much water everyday. If they only knew the real reason why I water them so frequently and so abundantly, they would hate me. Everyday I wait for the mailman to bring me envelopes full of good news. Sometimes he is punctual, sometimes he is late. So far he has brought me three envelopes and all of them have come bearing good news. I am going to school again in August, I just don’t know where since so far there are three schools to choose from. But hey, I know this much: I am going to school again! Everyday I Wait for the mailman to come, until I know that all the envelopes have arrived.

February 5th, 1991

It was a cold February morning, and as almost every morning I went to my parent’s bed not because I particularly wanted to cuddle with them, but mostly because I wanted to avoid getting ready for school. I joined my mom, who was still in bed reading a maternity book. She asked me if I had thought about a name for my brother who was expected to come any moment now. I started brainstorming, and the only boy names that came to mind were the boys from my class: Ermal, Erion, Ervin, Beni, Ardian…I went on and on, even mentioning names of boys that I could remember from other classes in my school, but my mom didn’t seem to like any of them. I stopped and instead placed my head on her beach ball so I could hear noises from my brother, whom I was so excited about meeting. Dad was shaving in the bathroom close by and the water running in the sink interfered with the movements in my mom’s tummy. He entered the bedroom to get his brown coat, which was most likely identical to the coats that other fathers around town wore that morning. Dad kissed mom goodbye, and as he left she said to him: I have a feeling about today…why don’t you just go to work and let them know that you are taking the day off.
At first I didn’t really understand, but when I started getting ready for school only to be stopped by my mom who said that it would be better if I stayed home, I knew that February 5, 1991 was going to be the day that I would meet my little brother. An hour passed and she called my dad at work. All she said to him was this: get here as soon as you can. So he came, and they left and I stayed home with grandma, and my sister. Later that day, dad took us to the hospital to see the baby, who had not been given a name, and as we would later learn would not be given one until three months after his birth. The delay was not due to any particular traditions or rituals in our culture. It was simply a matter of disagreement between my parents, the grandma’s and the grandpa’s, the uncles and the aunts as to what name he would get. For three months he would be known as “the boy”, until he got the name Marvin.
The day that I met my brother, was also the first time that it snowed in Tirana since the February that I was born.