edi, the girl

...

2008-05-25T12:56:00.001-04:00

This is what it feels like when summer is here and you don't actually feel like it's here or that you are living it. Sad for someone who was dying in anticipation of it...

Crunch Time

2008-04-26T19:04:00.005-04:00

Yesterday I had a little meltdown. I wanted to cry for no reason, I could not stand to read one more word. I was considering going home, and that would have meant not coming back to Orlando for my Monday & Wednesday exams…basically saying bye-bye to law school…forever. This always happens when I study property, which is a class that I usually enjoy, but it’s so damn hard!!! Today is a better day then yesterday, but I have a feeling I am killing my brain!!!

good food, good friends

2008-04-24T13:42:00.003-04:00

Studying all night and going to bed at 5: 30 in the morning, waking up at 7 and taking an exam for 3 hrs, all feels much better when it’s followed by good company and good food. I had always heard of the Japanese restaurants where they cook in front of you, but I had never eaten at one until last night. It was a very unique and entertaining experience, on top of the fact that the food was excellent.

Today, I am right back to studying for two more exams.

can't wait..

2008-04-21T19:33:00.001-04:00

I am slowly beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. In fact, I am three exams closer to my summer break people, and it feels so good…despite the lack of sleep, tired/black circled eyes, poor diet, along with all the caffeine intoxication.

Where you are right now, is perfect.

2008-04-16T19:01:00.003-04:00

I read this somewhere today, and it was exactly what I needed to hear as I drive myself mad studying for finals:

You are exactly where you need to be.
You are not missing out, falling behind, doing it wrong, not trying hard enough.
You are doing more than enough.
Whatever opinions you have about it, however imperfect.

This is yours.
Where you are right now, is perfect.

green life

2008-04-09T11:56:00.003-04:00

http://green.yahoo.com/calculator/;_ylt=AoCTa71J7aUJnVStdX2VnYGJV8cX

The above link will allow you calculate the amount of carbon emission that your household creates, by simply answering some questions. The average American emits 9.44 tons of Co2/yr. Mine came out to 30.4 tons!!!, with 9.2 at home, 4.5 on the road, and 16.7 in the air all due to ONE overseas flight and one “little trip” to the Smokey Mountains last year. Now I truly understand the impact of the airline fiasco where transatlantic flights were flying almost empty. What an unnecessary waste!

I have tried to implement little practices in my life in an attempt to live a greener life, but it seems like 1 oversees trip does the trick in rendering all of them futile.

Tips on how to live a greener life:

Change all your light-bulbs in your home to Compact florescent bulbs (CFLs). I have been meaning to do this for a while, so hopefully it will get done this summer. They might cost a little more than the regular light bulbs, but they last much longer and they will be economical in terms of your electric bill as well.

When at the grocery store, skip the whole paper or plastic question by bringing your own reusable cloth bags. A lot of grocery store chains have been selling them for as little as 99c, and they fit a lot more things than the regular plastic/paper bags. The trick is to always keep them with you in your car so that you can use them on the next trip to the grocery store; otherwise you will end up like me, buying new ones every time you are at the store.

When at Starbucks or any other coffee place, ask for a ‘for here” cup instead of the plastic/paper ones. And trust me that shot of espresso will taste much better in a porcelain cup as opposed to drinking it out of a paper one. More importantly, at home don’t use disposable utensils and plates. Also, save glass jars from things that you buy at the supermarket, they are far more hygienic than plastic containers.

Turn off the faucet when brushing your teeth. If you follow the dentist’s orders and brush for 2 minutes, 2 minutes of letting the water run will waste a lot of water.

When buying new appliances look for the energy saving sign.

I personally am not willing to give up traveling, and if you are one of those people too you might wan to consider terrapass.com, or carbonfound.org where you can calculate the amount of carbon emission that you are personally responsible for during a flight and pay a fee for how much it would cost to offset those emissions for renewable energy. The money that you pay w goes towards buying carbon credits that fund clean energy projects like wind energy farms. It’s a very creative idea. I know there is something similar in practice with respect to companies who are not willing to reduce their carbon emissions, instead buy credits from those who do not pollute as much. It’s called Emission Trading, and it’s growing at a very fast rate. The buyer pays a charge for the pollution that they are responsible; it almost sounds like a license to pollute, but it’s better than not doing anything about the whole ordeal, because theoretically this way companies will have an incentive to reduce their carbon emissions instead of having to pay other companies for their credits. It raises issues such as: putting the burden of dealing with environmental problems on developing countries instead of developed nations, because naturally a company down in Mexico will emit far less carbon than a huge US corporation. Nonetheless, I think it’s a move in the right direction. The problem is that the rest of the world is far more engaged in such practices, than the US is.

of love&marriage&divorce

2008-04-07T17:45:00.003-04:00

After reading Klodiana’s http://klodiana-words.blogspot.com/2007/10/forever.html nifty essay on marriage and divorce (which was provoked by a previous entry from Belle on the same topic), I began to write her a reply on her blog only to discover that the same thing happened to me as her…it was to long.

In my mind there is nothing emotionally that my marriage to my husband has given me as opposed to the relationship that we had before getting married. Considering that we were living together even before marriage, I never felt any different as a woman after it; I just got to play Cinderella for one day in a pretty white dress, had an awesome party and that was all. I believe the distinctions are legal ones, and those sometimes make a big difference in terms of property rights, inheritances, legal status in a country, and even trivial things such as medical insurance etc. I do not consider my marriage as an encumbrance, meaning that if the moments ever comes that I doubt our relationship, it won’t be a factor in making the decision whether to go our separate ways or not. What will be a strong factor is my relationship which is not defined by marriage but the emotional relationship which I share with him. At the risk of being perceived as if I am advertising for divorce, I am going to say it: sometimes divorce is the “healthiest choice” when a relationship becomes lethal. I don’t think we should see it as a necessarily bad thing. After all it’s only natural that if you are going to have such a thing as marriage, where two people are united together legally/spiritually/physically, for those occasions when life is too long to stay together forever and people are transformed so much that you no longer co-exist, divorce is logical.

I don’t know if it’s just our super egos that play a role in the many divorces in today’s age. I think it’s that, but also a combination with a certain philosophy about modern day life where we feel that everything should come to us easily and with no struggles; therefore divorce is only convenient. If people have made a commitment to one another be it thru marriage or not, I think they should evaluate their relationship and make a determination if the benefits of keeping that relationship alive outweigh the costs required to get thru the struggle. I know I am talking economics here, but I think the same logic can apply in the issue at hand.

I suppose part of the reason why we have such higher rates of divorce today (apart from sociological reasons one of them being that women are highly more independent today economically and otherwise than they were 50 yrs ago—which is a great thing), is the fact that people are too damn lazy to work at making a relationship function, they don’t understand that when making a commitment to love is also making a commitment to make certain sacrifices so that you can make that relationship last. Love is not just that enormous fire that you feel at first when the butterflies tickle your guts and all is well and dandy; love is also that dying fire which needs more fuel to be rekindled, and sometimes even the ashes that are left behind after a huge storm. I believe that if you value your relationship with someone else, you should be committed to make sacrifices and give it your all to make it last, whether married or not. Therefore, it’s not marriage that makes the difference whether two people stick together or not, but how much they truly value their relationship, and ultimately how much they love one another.

Personally, amongst all the other things that life has thrown at me be it good or bad, I feel that the best luck I have had has been in love, and I feel even luckier to have committed to a relationship at a younger age than most my friends, because it makes me feel like the person whose legal name is my “husband” is my best friend of all. I know it sounds all sweet, cheesy and Hollywood romance type of crap, but I truly feel this way.

summer...

2008-04-05T13:54:00.003-04:00

Yesterday someone (not me so don't come asking me for money) won 6 grant from the lottery and they were mad as hell for being “not so lucky” and missing the grand price of 6 million by one number. I was reminded of how lucky I am to have found my love so early in life, and to just be in love generally. I was reminded of how much I love my family and the city I call home, which has been blossoming with vitality as new and fun restaurants/bars/lounges open up. I cannot wait for this summer which for me will start immediately after the last final on April 30th. I have never in my life felt for sick, tired, and fed up with school.

the difference between my friend and I

2008-04-02T20:21:00.000-04:00

My friend talks to me about her $300 D&G sun glasses, her $400 Gucci purse, and her $300 Prada shoes. She is addicted to shopping, and she is not a rich girl by any means, she is buried in debt. She has the audacity to tell me that she buys stuff on sale; she actually thinks that a pair of glasses formerly priced at $400, are a great catch at $200.

I told her that I could never be able to pay that much money for a pair a glasses or a purse, I really do not see the need when I can buy similar items at much lower prices. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t do my shopping at Salvation Army. I am a girl too, I buy lots of purses and shoes, a lot more than I probably need. I also enjoy a certain quality in the items that I buy, but there comes a point when the difference between my Nine West purse and her Gucci one is something that in Albanian we call: pordhe.

I object to such foolish luxuries. No. 1: I cannot afford them! No. 2: even if I could afford them I would refuse to buy them! I would rather take a vacation instead of a pair of glasses and a purse. She says that that’s the difference between us; she gets a lot more pleasure from her shoes and purses than a vacation. She might have a valid point, but I still do not understand.

I also don’t think it’s acceptable for her to stroll around in her $300 shoes (that’s only one pair, think about all the other ones in the closet) when there are people in the world who go bare foot every day…not to speak about starvation and other similar tragedies. I am not talking about being stingy to the point where you completely deprive yourself of the pleasures of shopping; all I am trying to say is that it is possible to get the same pleasure from a brand like Nine West and the like as opposed to Prada, Gucci or Christian Dior. I guess it all comes down to priorities, ands mine are certainly not the same as hers.

suggestions

2008-03-29T11:46:00.002-04:00

May I suggest that today:
you call someone's voice mail and leave them a singing message of Mad World by Gary Jules (no music in the background). If you are like me and cannot carry a tune for nothing, it will be quite funny.
Try Burt's Bees Soap Bark & Chamomile facial wash. It will soothe and soften your skin leaving behind a tingling fresh sensation.
Eat a mango, naked and in bed.
Paint your nails a bright pink color.
Sing out loud in the shower, holding a shampoo bottle as a microphone.
Listen to Xavier Rudd.
Watch this video of Isabelle Allende: http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/204

Road to recovery...

2008-02-20T19:01:00.006-05:00

3 days after the operation. The hair style might look crazy, but over the course of her many hospital stays, we discovered that it was the easiest way to keep the hair from turning into dredlocks.

11 days short of 1 month anniversary of the operation. Happy to be home celebrating her daughter's birthday. Happy to see the sky, the grass, the beach, her backyard, her flowers, her home, her people outside of her hospital room. She said everything seemed so much prettier that when she left for the hospital.

v-day

2008-02-16T00:11:00.003-05:00

I don’t have any special memories from past valentine days. It always turns out to be more than a random day, on which for the past two years something bad has occurred. Last year I turned a very expensive lap top into a very expensive door mat by spilling water on it (very few drops, but nonetheless it did the trick). Yesterday I locked my keys in my car (considering my severe clumsiness, I had never done this before) and had to wait in cold weather wearing a short sleeves shirt for about 2 hrs. Not as costly as the lap top “shower”, but nonetheless froze my ass off.

I must admit that every year I was a little distressed at our inability to make dinner plans and celebrate in true valentine fashion (3 years ago, I asked him to pick up something to eat on his way home from work, he brought me a sub and a whole roasted chicken from the local grocery store; I sat on the couch watching the chicken instead of the movie…) So we tried the dinner thing this year, and it hit me why I do not really like v-day. I hate the idea of being forced to have dinner/kissing/making love at the same time as the rest of the country’s couples (minus the west coast). At any rate, dinner was great, dessert was even better, and spending time with him was superb since we hadn’t seen each other all weak.

I know there are a lot of people out there who are single, and a lot of them don’t like valentines day, not because they are alone but because of all the material things that this day represents (which most of the time are the fruits of labor of modern day slavery-at the very least-flowers from Latin America where people work in dire conditions, and the chocolate from Africa where many child workers labor in this industry). But Valentines Day doesn’t require a lover, just love, and love is all around us: family, friends, nature and all the simple things that give us pleasure. Most importantly doesn’t have to be represented by material things, I wrote him a letter with 101 reasons why I love him…I will spare you all the dorky, cheesy, corny details. He rocks my world and makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. He also makes mish me patate or pilaf me pule on occasions using the tenxhere me pressure…J

p.s. v-day story contest didn’t get many participants, 3 submissions, 2 of which were anonymous, and 1 from bletebzzzz…turp tju vije te gjithve, you guys let me down, pervec Blete per te cilen do pergatis varsen.

V-day Contest

2008-02-04T14:00:00.000-05:00

I have decided to hold a Valentines Day contest this year.

Here is the idea: email me a short story about love (300, max 400 word count) by Monday, February 11th (ex: about a time when you truly felt loved in your life, or about someone special you love; whatever it is it must be something concrete not just about love generally and in abstract). You can submit it in English or Albanian, even Italian if you must.

I will choose 3 favorite stories. 1st price will win a special necklace made by yours truly…, the other two will win earrings. There is no reason for boys not to participate, you can always give the necklace/earrings to your loved one, or if you are a lonely soul then give them to your mom/grandma/sister/aunt/friend. Also, I will publish the winning stories on my blog, with your permission of course.

I hope a lot of you participate so that we can make it fun!
I look forward to read your stories about love.

p.s. email stories to: edipojani@yahoo.com

Weekend Overview

2008-02-04T00:00:00.000-05:00

of old age & technology

2008-02-03T17:27:00.000-05:00

I want to grow old and be just like the couple in the picture which I often encounter at my local Starbucks. They make me smile, and I think they realize that they have that effect on people. In fact, I think they get a kick out of the whole ordeal…just by sitting there and staring into the lap top screens they make the rest of the coffee addicts around notice and point with an uncertain sense of astonishment and amusement. They are the kind of people that when they walk in restaurant/café the waiter always remembers their order, they are your unusual regulars.

Today they came in as always, Betty wearing her shimmering jeweled sun glasses under which lie layers of makeup and marks of old age, and Walter wearing his red Lacrosse sweater on top of a pink collar shirt. I realize that I have taken one of the chairs where they always sit side by side, and they are annoyed by it. I offer them their seat back on condition that they look after my books and lap top while I go to a nearby store to grab a sandwich. Nifty Walter staring at my Contrasts book says offer accepted young lady. We both smile, I walk away pleased that I don’t have to collect and carry everything out with me. I come back and Betty asks me what I am studying for. I say law and her eyes twinkle as she says that that’s what she always wanted to do but never got around to it. She tells me how when she was a little girl she would wear her finest clothes and stand in front of the mirror pretending that she was delivering oral arguments… “may it please the court…”. I smile. She says she always wanted to be a criminal attorney, but not the kind that would represent a murderer. Betty is a little hard of hearing so I have to speak much louder than usual making my voice project across the other side of the room. I feel like I am having a conversation with everyone in the room.

She says she became a stock broker instead of a lawyer and that she usually trades or researches stocks when she is at Starbucks. I tell her that my husband looks into them as well, but that I am not interested in them at all. She says that there is plenty of money to be made out there and lose as well. We both smile as I tell her that my husband must be the losing kind. Betty who has not known me for longer than 15 minutes tells me that she knows I will be a good attorney. Swinging her arm and fist she says, do it for me since I couldn’t. I smile again. Walter then steps in and says that Betty is usually very happy to see women get educated and have successful careers. She is a true feminist at heart he says, she was one even before there was such a movement. Betty moves her head in approval, and then starts talking about the feminist movement and how they always lacked efficient leadership. I smile again and again. I now realize that I have already smiled more than I usually do on an average day. I smile just thinking about all the smiles during our 20 minute conversation.

change of heart

2008-01-22T21:05:00.000-05:00

I am happy to report that my mother is the recipient of a new heart, her third one.
She is hurting, buried down by numerous IV lines, tubes coming out of her lungs and chest, but above all she is alive, and she is looking pink.

She is proof that miracles do happen, not just once but twice. I thought that getting a second chance at life was an incredible thing, but getting a third one, is something that I cannot begin to explain to you...it is big, so big that it makes me and my family forever grateful to all the medical staff (miracle workers), but above all to the donor families who in their grief and sorrow find the humanity and courage to donate the organs of their loved to strangers like my mom so that they can continue to live. They deliver the biggest gift of all, the precious gift of life.

As my family celebrates this third chance at life for my mom, another family mourns the death of a loved one. So I light two candles, one for my mom and the new heart beating in her chest, and one for the two angels who are no longer in life. The heart of a 16 year old girl lived on in my mom's chest for seven years allowing her to live thru many happy moments, a new heart is currently beating in her chest.

I love my mom.

2008-01-06T22:38:00.000-05:00

When I am not with her I cry my eyes out so that when I visit her I have no more tears to shed. It would make her too sad to see pain in my eyes. When I am not with her I scream and beg God not to take her away from me, I plead with him to take away everything that I posses just not her, I ask him to allow her to live so that when the time comes she will be there to see my kids grow up. During such a time I have come to realise how much my loved ones mean to me, and how worthless everything else is in life.

Treasures of my life!

2008-01-03T13:22:00.001-05:00

game over

2007-08-05T20:31:00.000-04:00

This will be the end (at least for now).
I had so much to share and who knows how many times I wrote posts, saved them and failed to publish them. Perphas you will hear them at a later time, or not at all.
I am running on a new direction, moving to a different town.

I will no longer have the luxury of time to update on a regular basis, thus its better that I lock up and say good-bye.

love&peace.

2007-07-20T15:57:00.001-04:00

"if you could read my mind...what a tale my thoughts could tell..." ~gordon lightfoot

making fools of ourselves

2007-07-19T13:13:00.001-04:00

Madonna would be so proud of us!
Enjoy(for a limited time)!
p.s. I am the one to the far left and the girl next to me is my sister.

2007-07-15T13:53:00.001-04:00

Having come back from Europe recently, I cannot help but sit and contemplate the main differences between the old continent and the new. I have come down to one main conclusion: America and its people seriously suffer from the obsession of “seize”. Seize, as in having the biggest cars, buildings, houses, malls, supermarkets, roads, paychecks, beds, and even clothes & purses. I know my conclusion is probably shared by a myriad of other people who have walked both the new and the old land, but it’s so ridiculously true. That’s it. I just thought I would share this thought with the world.

June 4th, 2007

2007-07-12T09:12:00.000-04:00

"She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short." Brian Andreas

Monday, June 4th, 2007
...I am on a slow moving bus aproximately 3 hours away from Athens, 4 hrs away from Ioannina, and some many more hours from Tirana (final destination). The past two weeks have been beautiful in the full meaning of the word. I realize that people today use the word beautiful more rarely, and even when they do use it, it's for mundane things such as clothing or the like. I closely relate the word beautiful with two things, nature and people, and we have been blessed by both so far.

More then ever I realize how important adventure is in my life. The health of my body and soul depend on it. Somewhere along the way you begin to change. You gain a deeper understanding, a new perspective, and a more aware state of mind. The eyes begin to thank you about the beauty that you are allowing them to see, and the soul is appreciative of the stories that it so much needed to hear.

It’s been a dream out here. The beaches with their changing skies and the crystal clear water, the ancient sites with so much history, the mountains with the endless greenery, and ohhh the sunsets… This change of scenery has done me plenty of good.

Images from my vacation.

2007-07-10T10:43:00.000-04:00

Shot from the sky, flight to Frankfurt

Delphi, Greece Sunio, Greece
Tirana, Albania
Tirana, Albania
Butrint, Albania
Meteora, Greece Meteora, Greece

I am back in town...

2007-07-06T10:17:00.000-04:00

I realised I had been gone for too long when I started missing Florida, and the whole concept of home. At the same time I could not help but feel the funk of not wanting to return. Some time during the course of this trip I began to feel homeless as I would wake up in a different environment almost every morning. Next, I experienced a feeling of not belonging anywhere, a feeling of confusion which eventually is transformed into a feeling of belonging, belonging in many places all at the same time.

I don't know where to begin. During my stay in Greece and Albania I visited some truly beautiful places and met amazing people. I have recharged my battery and come back changed, full of positive energy. There are three suitcases floating randomly around my living room, along with miss-matched shoes and numerous clothing articles.

It's good to be back but I must confess that I am already dreaming of another escape.
...more to come

Jam ne shpi.

2007-06-08T09:33:00.000-04:00

Erdha njehere rrotull dhe vura re se qenka koha e mungesave. Une nuk kam jystifikime, ndodhem ne atdhe mes nje vorbulle te madhe zhurmash e fytyrash te cuditshme qe gjithsesi me bejne te ndihem mire.

He said

2007-05-15T12:55:00.000-04:00

He said: how come bizarre things happen to you and to no one else? How come a bottle of wine knocks over a glass of water, which spills over onto the counter top and then tiny splashes of water reach the keyboard of the laptop (tiny, but big enough to turn it into a very expensive doormat)? How come you take off your wedding band and somehow it slips thru your fingers and flies down into an unreachable whole in the back seat of the car.

Me:I truly don't know!!!

stafeta

2007-05-11T11:22:00.000-04:00

1. Lumturia e plote per ju eshte?
prane detit

2. Cfare ju ben te zgjoheni ne mengjes?
me zgjojne ca te teshtitura te fuqishme, ndezje televizori e dritash, ca perplasje dyersh

3. Hera e fundit qe u shkrite duke qeshur?
te shtunen e kaluar, per pak me shpetoi cici

4. Vetia kryesore e karakterit tend cila eshte?
qetesia

5. Mungesa juaj kryesore?
dikush do thoshte rregullsia

6. Ne cilat gabime tregoheni me tolerant?
ne ato pa zarar

7. Me cilen figure historike je e apasionuar?
audrey hepburn-nuk e di ne eshte figure historike

8. Cilet jane sot, heronjte tuaj?
askush ne vecanti, njerez te zakonshem qe jetojne me pasion endrrat e tyre

9. Udhetimi juaj me I dashur?
copenhagen, denmark- sa do doja ti rikthehesha

10. Shkrimtaret tuaj me te dashur?
milan kundera, isabelle allende, marquez, orphan pamuk, paulo coelho,

11. Cilin virtyt vleresoni tek nje burre?
forcen e karakterit;humorin

12. …dhe tek nje grua?
instiktet e nenes

13. Kompozitori juaj I preferuar?
vivaldi

14. Kengen qe fishkellen kur je ne dush?
zakonisht i tremb njerezit kur kendoj, kshu qe as ne dush sja lejoj vetes

15. Libri me mbreselenes?
the picture of dorian gray-oscar wilde

16. Filmi me mbreselenes?
the sea inside

17. Piktori juaj i dashur?
salvador dali

18. Ngjyra juaj e preferuar?
blue

19. Cilin quani, suksesin me te madh tuajin?
me pyet mbas nja 3-4 vjetesh

20. Pija juaj e preferuar?
vere e kuqe

21. Per cfare jeni penduar me shume?
qe per disa persona kam dhene aq shume, dhe ne fund kam marr vetem zhgenjim

22. Cfare urreni me shume nga cdo gje?
njerezit qe shtiren, ata qe ndiejne nevojen te duken

23. Kur nuk shkruani, cili eshte hobi juaj?
fotografia

24. Frika juaj me e madhe?
erresira

25. Ne cilin rast, zgjidhni te thoni genjeshtra?
kur e verteta do shkaktonte me dem se nje genjeshter

26. Cila eshte motoja juaj?
s'kam

27. Si do preferonit te vdisnit?
prane detit

28. Nese do ju ndodhte te takonit Zotin, cfare do te donit t’ju thoshte?
te me fali qe se kam besuar

29. Ne c’gjendje shpirterore ndodheni kesi kohe?
lemsh i madh

Mr. Eggplant

2007-05-10T11:29:00.000-04:00

Meet my friend Mr. Eggplant, he was eaten for lunch on Tuesday (turli). My mom is very funny, she had brought over some groceries and amongst all the onions, tomatoes, carrots and bell peppers I found Mr. Eggplant. I discovered him on Tuesday and sat in front of my refrigerator laughing my heart out for over 5 minutes. He was delicious and made a great turli.

Turli is an Albanian dish used frequently during the summer, when veggies can be found in abundance. I kinda have my own recipe for it: take potatoes, eggplant, bell peppers, carrots, onions, squash, tomatoes, zucchini (basically any kind of veggie that you can think of, and if you are missing something don't worry, it will work with any number of veggies) and cut them into pieces (peel the potatoes, onions and carrots, wash the rest). Put them on an oven tray;sprinkle them with olive oil, oregano, dried or fresh parsley, dill, salt and pepper. Put it in the oven at about 400 degrees. I couldn't tell you how long to leave them in because I never follow specific directions myself. I just check them once in a while...Usually it is made with meat (chunks or ground beef), but I prefer the vegetarian one.

simplicity

2007-05-03T08:11:00.000-04:00

"With a few flowers in my garden,

half a dozen pictures and some books,

I live without envy"~ Lope de Vega

useless info

2007-04-19T19:03:00.000-04:00

http://www.paulsadowski.com/BirthData.asp

You were born in the Chinese year of the Horse.
The Julian calendar date of your birth is 2445740.5.
Your Native American Zodiac sign is Salmon; your plant is Raspberry (I like both)
The moon's phase on the day you wereborn was waxing gibbous.
You were born in the Egyptian month of Parmuthy, the fourth month of the season of Poret (Emergence - Fertile soil).
Your date of birth on the Hebrew calendar is 8 AdarI 5744.Or if you were born after sundown then the date is 9 AdarI 5744.
The Mayan Calendar long count date of your birthday is 12.18.10.12.16 which is12 baktun 18 katun 10 tun 12 uinal 16 kin.
You are 278 months old.
You are 1,210 weeks old.
You are 8,469 days old.
You are 203,275 hours old.
You are 12,196,500 minutes old.
You are 731,790,040 seconds old
Your age is the equivalent of a dog that is 3.3146771037182 years old. (Life's just a big chewy bone for you!)
There are 297 days till your next birthday.

koklavitje

2007-04-06T10:20:00.001-04:00

Today I feel much like the main subject in this picture, thorny, dense, difficult, convoluted, intricate, full of twists and turns.

3

2007-04-04T11:44:00.000-04:00

I look so peaceful and cheerful in this picture, don't I. There is not a care in my mind. I even have blond hair, which I would never dream of having in my wildest dreams. If this picture only knew of the chaos in my mind. It's unbelievable how calm people can appear, when in reality there are a million issues playing in their mind like movies in different theaters. Could you imagine having to follow all of them? I think it's all related to what we decide to put on display for others to observe.

Today I am finding my peace in this song by Deb Talan, from The Weepies. I fell in love with it from the very first note.

Ku do vemi, ca do bejme?

2007-04-03T11:25:00.000-04:00

This weekend.
Me,

him,

the sun setting,

and the moon.

Kesaj radhe me duhet te shkruaj ne shqip, per hir te shprehjes sime "Ku do vemi? Ca do bejme?". Mua me ha shtepia. Nuk mund te rri brenda pa pasur arsye, sidomos ne fundjave kur fare mire mund te dal. Mbase me vjen nga pasditet ne Shqiperi. Pas punes se prinderve, shkolles tone, drekes dhe nje pushimi te shkurter, medoemos qe gjate veres dilnim xhiro neper Tirane, ndersa gjate dimrit zakonisht vizite tek nena ku mblidheshin te gjithe dhe behej nje lemsh per te cilin me paska marre malli.

Keshtu, njerezit qe kam prane pasditeve dembele e me kohe te lire, i torturoj me shprehjen "Ku do vemi? Ca do bejme?". E thene nxitimthi, me deshiren me te madhe per tja mbathur, duke marre parasysh por injoruar faktin qe ndonjehere behem dhe e bezdisur. Kesaj radhe, dolem nga shtepia pothuajse pa plan, dhe perfunduam ne nje zone te qytetit qe se kishim shkelur me pare, Apollo Beach. Ndonjehere thjeshtesia te ploteson cdo deshire, madje te ngop me mire se cdo gje tjeter.

2007-03-30T11:06:00.000-04:00

If there is magic on the planet, it is contained in water.
-Loren Eisley

aedesign

2007-03-27T13:06:00.000-04:00

My sister has been working with jewelry for some time. I decided to join her and experiment along with her. We have set up an etsy shop at http://www.aedesign.etsy.com/. I am not asking you to buy them (although that would be awesome), but please do stop by to see them and then come back to give us some feedback. Thanks.

sick;mom; brother; toothache

2007-03-23T03:04:00.000-04:00

As you all know I have been quite sick with the cold all of this week. Las night my mom, finally decided that she had had enough hearing my complaints on the phone delivered thru my transformed, sore, man-like, deep voice. She got in her car, advised me to pack a few things and swept me off my home so that she could have me under her care in my old room. Her remedies are hot liquids, i.e. tea and soups, which I do not mind. What I hate is milk, and this morning I had a cup full after perhaps one year or so of not having had any. During the day I managed to escape for a quick stroll at the beach, since I was feeling quite better.
If she hears me cough, then she is off to the kitchen to pour me some more hot tea, and I usually like tea but not when it’s offered to me as a medicinal, so I have learned to suppress my coughing with a whole lot of cough drops. Tonight she gave me the ultimate remedy, made me soak my feet in extremely hooooot water. Five minutes into it and my feet swelled up like rising bread and were bright and pink like a ripe watermelon. Every time I complained that I was ohh so hot, and my feet were burning she said, that is the purpose of the whole thing, and that I would thank her tomorrow when I would suddenly feel much better. Sometimes, it’s better not to argue with my mom, so I sat there measuring my tolerance of hot water. I guess it was somewhat beneficial since I gave myself a mini pedicure, or at least relieved my nails from a bright red nail polish and trimmed them.
Right after the hot bath for my feet, she sent me right to bed and said that I should rest under the covers, sweat and maintain the heat in my body. I tried to ignore the sweating and the heat by reading, it almost worked. In fact I started to doze off into sleep, when it suddenly hit me that I had promised my brother to revise his paper on Nikita Khrushchev. I got up while also enjoying the cold air in the room, slowly my feet were returning to normal. Then, I felt somewhat guilty that my mom’s efforts had probably gone to waste, but I realized that I really had to read his paper. I discovered that my brother had used a font size of 15 so that he could make the paper cover the 6 pages that his teacher had asked for. I smiled and wondered if he thought that his teacher wouldn’t realize the reason behind the huge font, or if he was simply trying to get by. I changed the font to 12, and made an effort to lengthen the paper so that he could still have six pages.
Now I am going to bed, with a slight tooth ache. I am supposed to have a crown on it, and interestingly enough I had an appointment with the dentist yesterday which I cancelled. It has never bothered me before, but I think it decided to rebel against me tonight since I cancelled yesterday’s appointment.

vdeksha une per tabellen

2007-03-21T15:33:00.000-04:00

se habla español...

(t)issues

2007-03-18T21:41:00.000-04:00

I apologise for the disgusting view of my nightstand, but it was the only way I could partially justify my lack of new posts.

Going back home.

2007-03-09T14:23:00.000-05:00

Before I enter a new phase, which I have been advised will be “the three most miserable years” of my life, I have made some very exciting plans to visit Albania this summer-the country where I was born and raised. Where do I begin to explain to you how overjoyed I am to take this trip back (mind you I had initially planned to visit last summer, so you can imagine my disappointment after having worked myself up so much that the possibility of not actually taking the trip was not even imaginable; but it happened and I was crushed). So let me begin by saying that I have not been back since 1998, a full nine years, which is quite a long time, but is even so much longer for a former communist country which experiences change (for better or worse) at a very fast paste. I was not much more than a child when I left. Hence, I am thankful to my parents and my country (along with its numerous problems & paradoxes) for having planted in my heart such an enormous and ever lasting love, that regardless of the fact that I essentially became an adult in the US, a part of my heart will forever belong there.

Having said that, I am scared shitless of going back! Being born and lived part of my adolescence in Albania, and then moving to the US, becoming a US citizen and reaching a certain point of maturity in my life, my heart is divided equally between the two places, with my personality having been influenced equally by both cultures. But somewhere in the middle, there is a hollow gap, which tells me that in pieces I am a little bit of both, but as a whole, I am like neither of the two places. I have forever lost that feeling of belonging. I feel as if I have been left hanging somewhere in the vast grandness of the ocean which separates the old world from the new one. I am scared to the very essence of my core, of breathing in the air of a city which will surround me with unfamiliar streets and unrecognizable human faces. I am scared that I will get lost in my own city. I am scared of walking by the windows of my old apartment only to see the strangers that inhabit it now. I am scared of feeling like a stranger in my own country!

When I go back, one thing is for sure, I plan to walk all over my city (Tirana), without aim, purpose or reason. I simply desire to walk every square foot of that city, perhaps in a desperate attempt to catch up with its soul, ask for forgiveness for having been absent for so long, and get reacquainted. I do not know for sure if these or other fears will materialize when I am present there, but I know that I will experience a feeling which I have not felt in a long time. In spite of feeling like a stranger or not, I will know with definitive certainty that the noises coming from that city will speak to me in my mother tongue, and that would be enough to make my visit back a splendid adventure!

why are we here?

2007-03-09T12:04:00.000-05:00

Last night he wanted to know, why are we here?

Without much thinking I answered: we are here to love each other, learn more about ourselves, become somebody, explore the world and give to it as much as we can.

So today, I am asking all of you, why are we here? Answer it in whatever context your heart desires, just be true to yourselves.

random

2007-03-07T19:14:00.000-05:00

-After a weekend with friends, I am feeling the blues and missing their company.

-My home feels empty.

-It's good to surround yourself with genuine people who bring laughter in your life.

-I had a dream last night like I was blown away by a tornado...and then somehow I also remember an enormous pumpkin.I have a tooth ache.

-I keep looking at the pictures from this weekend and they are incredibly funny.

-I am looking forward to the summer!!!!!!!

give me your purity

2007-02-28T13:54:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-24T07:59:00.000-05:00

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)

2007-02-22T09:42:00.000-05:00

(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

2007-02-22T09:24:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-20T19:04:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-02-19T11:52:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-16T16:31:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-12T14:53:00.000-05:00

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

The silence of waiting.

2007-02-09T11:21:00.000-05:00

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

2007-02-05T19:42:00.000-05:00

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.

Reading

2007-01-31T19:45:00.000-05:00

I have a habit of reading in my bathtub. If you are imagining me naked, submerged in water full of foam, then I hate to spoil it for you. I read in my bathtub with my clothes on and no water in it, that's probably why everyone finds it strange. I have been doing this since I was little.
Just two days ago I started reading "The Places In Between" by Rory Stewart. I cannot put it down. Don't you love it when that happens?

Where do you read?

Passage from the book:
"I sat down and wrote a letter to my parents, in case I was killed. In the past sixteen months I had bribed, flattered, pried, bullied, begged, and wheedled in order to continue my walk. I was more of a tramp than a mystic, but as i wrote I felt at peace. I described to my parents the moments on the way that seemed to have a deep, unified relation to my past. I wondered if walking was not a form of dancing. I was happy then and I slept well".

Hidden down here, you will find my secret...

2007-01-26T16:27:00.000-05:00

Now, you hear me, and you hear me well. This is my secret:
I choose to no longer allow it to remain a secret because of its enormous burden, the weight of which my back can no longer afford to maintain. I am letting you know about it so that maybe you could understand the pain that I have so far endured. I am letting you know about it because I can no longer tolerate silence.
Seek out a quiet place where to sit and listen. The words that I am about to say, deepening on your soul, might affect you in a very direct way. I am about to pass my weight on to you, thus you will need a place where to sit because the weight is so massive that only by sitting down will you be able to support it, unless you have superpowers… and if you do, you could save me from my pain. After hearing of my secret you might experience an urgent need to label me naïve and childish, and that I am, but I can not help the way in which I feel.
I hope that you can find the power to understand. This is my secret: I fear this world…

1
2
3
-every three seconds a child dies because of extreme poverty
1
2
3
…there is no reason in the world for a child to die
1
2
3

(I could go on and on with similar heart breaking facts, but I will spare you their redundant rawness, because all you need to know is that every three seconds a child dies as a result of extreme poverty…for the rest I will allow you to do your own Google searches.)

What does one do, when the weight of terrible things that routinely occur uninterrupted around the world, catches up with your spirit? When I say that, imagine for only a moment being surrounded by pointy arrows aimed towards your body. The room in which you breathe gradually becomes smaller and smaller, until you start feeling the pain of the arrows before they even rupture thru into your bare flesh. Then, the blood flows outlining the silhouette of your body until it reaches the soil and turns it red.

So much destruction, so much pain, so much suffering, so much darkness, so much death. The more you breathe, the less oxygen there is around for you to inhale during the next interval of breathing…so you reach a point where you feel like a lost soul stranded on ice: the coldness has taken over the core of your essence. You have surrendered to the cold because it's easier that way. It’s easier to let the cold in, to close your eyes, to sleep for eternity.

And here I got again at it:
But what does one do, when the weight of these problems is so unbearable for one person to feel?
What does one do, when one does not know where to start?
What does one do, when one does not know what to do?
Could it be possible to be aware of so much but still sit idle, conquered by pure apathy?

I had a bad day.

2007-01-25T00:20:00.000-05:00

"If you see a whole thing - it seems that it's always beautiful. Planets, lives.... But close up a world's all dirt and rocks. And day to day, life's a hard job, you get tired, you lose the pattern."
-Ursula K. Le Guin

I had a bad day today.
I got mad at him for wearing the wrong pants and the wrong shirt.
I got mad at him for forgetting his lunch home.
I got mad at my dinner.
Small things.
Useless things.
I got mad and had a bad day.

the ring

2007-01-22T16:08:00.000-05:00

I had my mind set on a one carat diamond ring. Then, I watched the movie Blood Diamonds and I hated myself for having wanted such a thing. I even took off my other ring, the one which I never take off, the ring which I was planning to substitute with the one carat ring. That ring I was going to take to a jeweler to buff it and polish it, and then put it away somewhere safe so that maybe one day I could give it to my daughter. I felt strange without my ring, naked, changed, and different. Throughout the day I experienced brief moments of loss, instantly looking at my finger to check for the ring which I felt wasn’t there, only to realize that I had not lost it and it was sitting on my night stand. I kept trying to force it within me that I did not need a ring to make me feel complete. Perhaps I needed time to get used to it. My mom always tells me that for something to become a ritual in your life, it needs about twelve days of constant repetition. I could have tried her philosophy, but instead I picked up the ring and put it on my finger again. That ring was purchased years ago; whatever I did with it now didn’t matter. The only thing I could do was to forbid myself from buying the new ring, the one carat one. This is life in the west, and even if you try to make conscious decisions and lead a life which will not violate the dignity of any other human beings around the world, sometimes it’s just hard. Sometimes you forget, and some other times you just don’t realize that whatever product you are buying, consuming or enjoying has cost a lot more to someone else than the money that you paid for it. As the French would say c’est la vie, but it’s a sad one my friends.

Criminalization of Homelessness

2007-01-12T16:04:00.000-05:00

As I stopped outside of my grocery store to take this picture, a cop cars pulled up. Two officers got out and approached a seemingly homeless person, which I had already encountered on my way in to the store. They questioned her: what are you doing here, are you waiting for a ride, who is coming to pick you up, do you have any ID on you?

I put away my camera, and paused for a moment. I was standing parallel to this sick looking, thin lady who was sitting on the floor, with her knees to her chin, and her back against the wall. In between us there was a telephone stand, so I could only see her toes which were dirty and long, but yet proportional to her frame. I thought to myself: I am standing here with my back against the wall just like her. My wallet is full of many things but no picture ID, yet they only approached her and not me. Did I look more “civilized/normal” to them? I don’t know if the city I live in has any ordinances against the homeless, but I know that the US in general is characterized by a trend towards the criminalization of homelessness. And I wonder, why????, when the government itself doesn’t offer many alternatives for this group of people. But that is not even the point here. Let’s say that one morning I wake up and decide to become homeless by choice, do they have a right to determine my lifestyle? Perhaps the lady wasn’t even homeless after all. Maybe she just liked to dress in rags, maybe she was really waiting for a ride, maybe she was just resting, maybe she just liked the shade that the grocery store provided for her, maybe she was simply standing there for no reason at all………

The rose.

2007-01-10T09:25:00.000-05:00

The beauty of growing roses in your garden
is during those mornings when you wake up
and a find a rose next to your nightstand,
and you realize he left it there for you.

I feel reborn this January morning (nothing to do with the rose).

Back Again.

2007-01-09T14:21:00.000-05:00

I am still alive and breathing.
Something happened...I got married :P

I apologize for the long silence.

To walk a labyrinth or a maze?

2006-12-05T12:09:00.000-05:00

A labyrinth is quite different from a maze.
It has only one path, hence there are no choices to be made.
A labyrinth is designed to help us find the way.
Walking a labyrinth engages the right part of your brain.
A labyrinth is about focus on the experience, rather than focus on the goal. A labyrinth is about trusting the path, letting go, and giving up conscious control.

Mazes, are about choices.
They have more than one entrance, more than one exit, and contain dead ends.
They are made to confuse you, trick you, and play games with you.
Walking a maze would engage the left side of the brain.
Mazes have hidden meanings.

I need a labyrinth!

I carry your heart with me.

2006-11-30T10:42:00.000-05:00

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
not fate(for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
e.e. cummings
------------
I know of one person in my life who can literally say:
"I carry your heart, I carry it in my heart".
She has been blessed by the heart!

Blah/Blue Saturday.

2006-11-26T21:52:00.000-05:00

I had a blahhh kind of Saturday during these last days of November.
A blah/blue kind of feeling which made blood rush to my head,
and then tears come down my cheeks, and then a feeling of loss.

Sometimes all we need is a smile,
a hug, a sign of love, affection,
or maybe just a very hot shower.
The problem is: why can’t we simply ask for it?

Hot and cold
exposed elements,
feelings,
turn into stones.

Giving thanks.

2006-11-22T08:28:00.000-05:00

I am thankful for all the loving people in my life,
family and friends.
I am thankful for my home.
I am thankful for being able to breathe in fresh air.
I am thankful for seeing beauty with my eyes
and hearing music with my ears.
I am thankful for being able to walk.
I am thankful for things that make me laugh
and things that make me cry.
I am thankful for living near the ocean.
I am thankful for the sky, the sun, the moon,
the starts, mountains and trees.
I am thankful for all the children of the world.
I am thankful for my health and happiness.
I am thankful for having a heart.
I am thankful for smiles.
I am thankful that my grocery store sells pizza dough.
I am thankful for flowers.

I wish you all a wonderful day of laughter,
love, warm thoughts,
and beautiful memories.
Slow down in your life to feel the power of simplicity,
make an effort to be more aware and present in every moment that goes by.

Turkey Time.

2006-11-21T10:42:00.000-05:00

I have never hosted Thanksgiving dinner before.
I am giving it a shot this year.
Here is a tentative menu:

Turkey with stuffing alla Albanese. (Kulaç or shok, kulaç. I have to enlist my mom’s help for that.)
Mushroom Soup
Stir Fry Veggies
Meat Loaf filled with Eggs and Cheese
Sweet Potatoes Au Gratin
Oven Baked Broccoli with Leeks
Curried Lentils and Vegetables
Brussels Sprouts Vinaigrette
Sallate Ruse (Literal translation: Russian salad. No idea why it’s called that, but it’s an Albanian traditional dish and I love it.).

Dessert: Kahlua Coffe Cake and Chocolate chip cookies, all made by me. I don’t like apple pies, pumpkin pies, or any cranberry pies, so I opted for chocolate, coffee and some Kahlua. In addition there will be: roasted nuts, dried figs, cranberries, green apples, and pomegranates.

I know it doesn’t look like a traditional Thanksgiving dinner without any gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, or apple pie but since most of my family (including myself) doesn’t prefer these American delicacies, I had to modify a few things and leave a couple of things out. But hey we still got the bird.

Happy Thanksgiving friends!
Give thanks for all the blessings in your life.

Bue skies.

2006-11-20T12:15:00.000-05:00

I am just a girl trying to grow up.

Movement inside the head.

2006-11-16T10:57:00.000-05:00

It’s hard to distinguish reality from dreams sometimes,
but maybe not everything has to be decided
at the exact moment when life happens.
Maybe we all need some time,
to fully comprehend the reality of our surroundings.
So when you wake up at night,
and cannot clearly understand
if the voices in your head are just part of a dream
or are really happening,
shake your head around,
let your hair flow freely,
maybe then you will understand,
that it was just a dream.

When the morning comes,
hop in the shower
and wash your head with cold water,
let it dry out in the sun,
so that you can clear away
all the bad dreams,
along with all the apprehensions,
expectations,
and heavy tensions.

This is how you prepare yourself
to experience more
movement inside your head.

"Our feelings are our most genuine paths to knowledge."
-Audre Lorde

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...

2006-11-14T16:24:00.000-05:00

What makes me mad is: Christmas decorations in the beginning of November. I cannot understand it, apart from the obvious that this is the most commercial holiday ever. Last night my neighbor put up lights around his home and other decorations. I feel as if people like him are trying to expedite the yearly cycle of winter holidays and the entrance of the New Year, thus making our lives go by faster. Well, I refuse for my life to walk by me at a faster rate than usual; I refuse to put Christmas decorations up since the beginning of November.

Another thing that makes me mad is people who staple the bottom of their pants when they are too long, or somehow need adjustment, especially with dress pants. It’s not being too cheap that bothers me, but it’s the fact that these people completely ignore the simple norms of dressing up, grrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

My head.

2006-11-10T10:54:00.001-05:00

If you could take a peek inside my head,
you would be terrified by all the higgledy-piggledy chaos.
You would find loads of things I need to do,
loads of things I want to do,
many loads of obligations,
and a whole bunch of things which are simply trash.
Sometimes it gets so loud in there,
so much commotion,
so much talk,
so much movement,
that it all makes me dizzy.

My life is not crazy busy right now as it used to be,
but his is, which is kind of the same thing.
I miss some quiet time with him,
the kind of time when there is no need to say anything,
time to stare at each other aimlessly.

Thinking of all this,
I have come to realize,
that it is possible for two people
to live together,
eat together,
sleep together,
and still deeply miss each other.

Imperative: study!

2006-11-03T13:03:00.000-05:00

Sit down and then study, study, study your ass off.
And when your ass is gone, study some more.
--
I was watching Grey's Anatomy (yes, I am a Mcjunkie for grey's, which is one of the only shows on TV that I enjoy) last night, and there was this patient who went at the hospital with her hand burned. It turns out she burned it herself on the stove in an attempt to get out of taking the Bar exam. By the end of this month if I end up in a hospital with the palm of my hand burned, you will know what happened.

Time Capsule

2006-10-31T07:53:00.000-05:00

Life is beautiful. Enjoy it.
----------
I think that this is an interesting project and I encourage anyone to participate:
"For 30 days, from October 10 until November 8, Yahoo! users worldwide can contribute photos, writings, videos, audio — even drawings — to this electronic anthropology project. A mosaic of revealing snapshots will be sealed and entrusted to Smithsonian Folkways Recordings based in Washington D.C., officially taking its place in history."

http://timecapsule.yahoo.com/capsule.php

Simple treasures.

2006-10-30T13:50:00.000-05:00

I have grown to appreciate and realize the delight of simple things/moments, which might not have much value in life but at least for me are often the sole cause of internal peace.

Albert J. Taylor

2006-10-27T13:20:00.000-04:00

I do not know Albert J. Taylor.
He is dead, in fact he died in 1980 and I wasn’t even born at the time (I just dated myself).Albert J. Taylor came into my life about this time of the year last year.

I was getting out of work around 5; 30 pm, and as I walked towards my car I noticed that a piece of paper was stuck in the left, front tire. It had been a windy day so I thought that the wind had blown it in the direction of my car and somehow it had been stuck there. I picked it up ready to discard it as a useless piece trash that someone had thrown away carelessly. As I was about to let go of it in the air, I noticed that the other side of the paper had a picture printed on it. I pulled it closer to take a better look and noticed that it was a folded card which wrote “In Loving Memory”. I eagerly turned the front page and found out that its purpose had been to announce someone’s death. On the left side was printed a religious poem, and on the right Albert J. Taylor’s birth date (April 18, 1901), date of death (January 3, 1980) and some information about the funeral services.

It felt strange to hold that piece of paper from a funeral service in 1980, but what I noticed a moment later totally amazed me. The funeral services had been held in Staten Island and New York. Here I was 25 years later, holding that piece of paper in Tampa, Florida. I wondered how it got there. If someone had thrown it away, or if it somehow had flown down here from state to state until it reached Florida. I know it’s quite stupid to even think about the latter, but it also seems strange that someone who might have moved to Florida and had held on to that piece of paper for so long would have thrown it away carelessly. Perhaps I’m trying to create a story when there is no story, but I could not help and wonder about Albert J. Taylor. What he did in his life, what kind of man he was, what kind of temper he had, what his profession had been and what kind of life he had led. I wondered if he had been happy, if he had suffered when he died, if any of his family was still around, if he had loved or if he had hated.

I have held on to this piece of paper in a red box where I place anything memorable. I do not have a sentimental attachment to this piece of paper, but somehow I feel obligated to hold on to it so that once a while I can take it out and wonder about this stranger who came into my life many years after his death. In some bizarre way I feel like this is the least that I can do to still keep his memory alive, although I do not know the man.
Albert J. Taylor came to me one October day in 2005.

Brrrrrr...

2006-10-24T11:30:00.000-04:00

I woke up and felt that my nose was icy cold this morning.
Today the whole city woke up to the first real day of fall.
Temperatures were down to the 40’s.
It felt nice outside. The air was crisp and it tempted me to take in deep, slow breaths.
It’s time to put away some of the summer clothes, take out some turtlenecks, jackets and boots. I enjoy this time of year; it’s a great break from the heat and humidity of the summer.
I only worry what the cold will do to my roses.

Sunday with my sister.

2006-10-23T23:06:00.000-04:00

This Sunday I submerged myself at play with my sister.We went back to being kids again,only that this time we played with cameras and not Barbie dolls.We laughed, rolled on the grass, jumped in the air, wore wigs, put on bright red lipstick that made us feel like true goddesses, hung ourselves in clothes lines and took an innumerable number of pictures. We had a grand time and I look forward to play with her again.

Vitet qe mbaj mbi supe e dashur...

2006-10-20T09:58:00.000-04:00

Every weekend or so I visit my grandmother. When I saw her last weekend, I told her about the party on New Year’s Eve, and I asked her if she would dance with me when that happened. She said of course I will, and I was overwhelmed by sadness, kicking myself for even asking that stupid question. What she doesn’t realize is that two years ago she suffered a stroke and is now unable to move or stand up without the help of my aunt. It is a great pain for me to see her at this state, not because she is my grandmother, but because of the vibrancy and life that once existed in her soul. She was strong as a rock, well educated, smart, and one of the most outgoing people I have ever met. Well educated for her meant going to law school as an adult with four children and a husband to take care of, during a time which was much harder then most of you could imagine: communism. As she aged she still maintained the same thirst for life, and knowledge. She was still up-to-date with current events, still active in her home, and always firing up conversations with young and old.
Today she sits in a red chair, with a pensive look in her eyes. She will no longer start a conversation with you, but merely talk when she is asked a question and even at that time she will simply state a yes or no. I often wonder what goes on in her mind.
What hurts me the worst is to see my father living her present state. Although he once told me that it’s better for her to be alive than dead, I know how much it hurts him not to see her be present in life.
My grandmother doesn’t remember much about what happened yesterday or what she ate for lunch, but strangely enough if you ask her about the name of a character in the past or anything about history/geography she will give you the right answer without hesitation. Once in a while when my uncle and dad visit her they start a singing marathon with old Albanian and Italian songs. I think this is suitable for her. She lived her live fully, with passion and dignity, and it would only be fair that she exits this life savoring the best of her past memories.

I love her.

2006-10-19T10:27:00.001-04:00

This little girl recently celebrated her birthday.
She is a full 5 years old now and is growing to be a beautiful little lady. It must be scary for her mom to see her grow up so fast, it's hard enough for me. I can still remember when I first met her, how when I told her my name she looked up at the ceiling to see the light fixture (my name in Albanian is easily misunderstood with the word "drita", which means light). It took her a while before she would actually look at me whenever she heard my name.
I could take pictures of her all day long.
She reminds me of something from my own childhood, my mom says that too, and in some weird way whenever I take her out everyone thinks she is my daughter.
I adore her, and I wish her many blessings in this world which is too evil for such a pure little thing like her.

2006-10-17T12:22:00.000-04:00

Lost in nostalgia

This is a song from a famous Italian singer who is now much older, Gianni Morandi. If you are not Italian or Albanian, you probably have little chance of knowing him. This song is about an American boy who liked the Beatles and Rolling Stone that went to Vietnam and never returned home. I cannot help but think about today’s soldiers in Iraq, are they fighting a second Vietnam?

C'era un ragazzo
che come me
amava i Beatles
e i Rolling Stones
girava il mondo,
veniva da
gli Stati Uniti d'America.
Non era bello
ma accanto a sé
aveva mille donne se
cantava "Help" e "Ticket to ride"
o "Lady Jane" o "Yesterday".
Cantava "Viva la libertà"
ma ricevette una lettera,
la sua chitarra mi regalò
fu richiamato in America.

Stop! coi Rolling Stones!
Stop! coi Beatles. Stop!
Gli han detto vai nel Vietnam
e spara ai Vietcong...

C'era un ragazzo
che come me
amava i Beatles
e i Rolling Stones
girava il mondo,
ma poi finì
a far la guerra nel Vietnam.
Capelli lunghi non porta più,
non suona la chitarra ma
uno strumento che sempre dà
la stessa nota ratatata.
Non ha più amici, non ha più fans,
vede la gente cadere giù:
nel suo paese non tornerà
adesso è morto nel Vietnam.

Stop! coi Rolling Stones!
Stop coi Beatles. Stop!
Nel petto un cuore più non ha
ma due medaglie o tre

I am in love with the ocean.

2006-10-17T09:23:00.000-04:00

The ocean is the place where I let my guard down. It doesn’t matter that my hair is messy, that I have no make-up on, that I am wet, that my body is not perfect or any other self-conscious complex. It is there that the water caresses me and I allow it take me to places that I have never been before, where I have not a care in the world, where nothing else matters, where there is no controversies or resistance, and where I find the most beautiful blue hues I have ever seen.

It is in the water that I am free.
It is there that everything is simplified.
It is there that I appreciate the true beauty of nature.
It is there where I feel the complete and pure joy of being alive.
It is by the ocean that I will wed.

Conversation in the dark.

2006-10-13T11:32:00.000-04:00

Me: So tell me why is this thing so scary for you?
Him: It’s not.
Me: Well, you seem to doubt it.
Him: I don’t. Listen, it’s like you in the dark. You know how when you go to the bathroom at night and after you are done you turn the light off and then rush back to bed. Are you insecure about the security of our house?
Me: That is not a fair analogy. You know that I am scared of the dark. Are you scared of the thing?
Him: No I am not, it’s just that…shhh go back to sleep, all I need is sleep.

4

2006-10-12T11:20:00.000-04:00

To see larger view: click on the picture, and then click on the expand button on the far right hand corner.

koklavitje, fasule & dentisti

2006-10-09T20:44:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I experience feelings, situations, annoyances, or merely happenings which I find hard to convey to someone else in words. In such occasions I am an illiterate person who stutters to find the right words to explain herself. I wish that the other person could understand me merely by looks or communication via telepathy. It is like such that I feel today and it would be foolish of me to attempt to explain: too much koklavitje!

p.s. per dreke bera fasule, sa kohe kisha pa ngrene!
p.s.s. I went to the dentist and as always there is no good news from that office. I have a ton of work to do with them, which doesn’t only mean that I will be “dating” my dentist for the rest of the year (who by the way looks completely like a famous Hollywood actor whose name I cannot remember) but it also means $$$$.

nada very importante

2006-10-04T19:12:00.000-04:00

Today marks the day that I am back in the gym...and I suspect that there will be much pain in the days to come.
-----
Free hugs for everyone: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0TBDti9BDU

sycka si ato te tuat...

2006-10-02T12:49:00.000-04:00

Aren't kids sweeter than cake, ice-cream, or any other candy?
...so pure, so fresh, so peaceful...
This little angel is Victorio, and I had the pleasure of spending a day with him at the beach last week flying kites and eating red grapes. How much better can it get?
---
Today time is standing still...
I had plans for this morning...yeah, I was going to go to the gym and actually work out, but it never happened...maybe tomorrow?

Have you ever heard about the Rebar Project?

2006-09-27T17:27:00.000-04:00

If not, I will tell you about it. The Rebar Project is a group of artists, designers, and activists based in San Francisco . One of their projects is called Park(ing), where their mission is to provide “temporary public open space in a privatized part of town”. What they do is turn a regular vehicle parking into a small temporary park where just like in a metered parking you can feed the meter and then that space is yours for that period of time to sit in a bench surrounded by green space. I think the idea is genius, and I hope that their project spreads around the world and becomes contagious!
Visit their website for more info : http://www.rebargroup.org/index.html

Things to do...

2006-09-26T16:09:00.000-04:00

-research and write his paper (I thought I was done with these for a while)...
-plan, plan, plan, plan...december will be here soon
-make a list
-go to the grocerie store
-pick up the developed pictures
-cook
-deal with your stomach ache
-study for your test
-prune the roses
-water all plants
-clean up front yard
-go see mom
-smile, be happy
-don't go crazy during the night!!!

sleepless

2006-09-25T14:39:00.000-04:00

It is absolutely horrific when you desperately want sleep but you cannot seem to get any.
And you lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to his heartbeat, knowing that there is no sleep for you.

Last night my mind was racing like water falling from the sky.
The more I tried to control it, the faster it went.
It sped around in circles, at a billion thoughts per hour.
It had so much to think about.
As time passed, the tic-tac from the clock on the wall became louder and lauder with a resonance similar to that of church bells.
I thought about getting up and committing a massacre: assasinating all the clocks in my house, but somehow I managed to controll my killer instincts.

It was around 3: 30am that I was able to fall asleep…

What are you reading?

2006-09-19T11:02:00.000-04:00

"A novel is like a bow, and the violin that produces the sound is the reader's soul" -Stendhal

I have a tendency to emerge myself in reading especially during those times when I know I should be doing something else. I used to do this in college, right before mid-terms or final exams. I am waiting to receive Stendhal’s “Red and Black”, which I just ordered online today.

What have you been reading lately?
Anything worth reading, anything that I shouldn’t read?
I welcome your suggestions…

Happy B-Day Sis.

2006-09-18T21:54:00.000-04:00

The girl wearing the red coat is my sister.
Yesterday she celebrated her birthday.
She is the most beautiful girl I know.
She is kind, funny, smart and spontaneous.
It is strange the way in which the blood connection works.
We could not be more different from each other in character, yet I only need one look into her eyes to know that she is in trouble, to know that she is worried, or anything else that she might be thinking/feeling.
She is more like mom, I am more like dad.
I don’t think we look alike at all, which is what most people say, but once in a while we find someone who says that we look so much alike, and then we look at each other trying to find the similarities.

When we were little we argued and fought each other so intensely that I still bear scratch marks in my hands and arms from her vicious nails. She would hurt me so badly that I would scream, cry and pull her hair all at the same time, until our parents came to the rescue. I am sure I hurt her too, but she never once cried during any of our childhood fights. She was and still remains a strong character, who doesn’t know the meaning of the word: fear.

When we were little, my dad would take me on road trips around the country as he went about his work. You see I was the oldest one. Naturally she looked up to me, sometimes even with jealousy. What she probably doesn’t know is that I needed her too, and that I envied her too, especially during sleepless nights. Often during the winter, I had trouble falling asleep. I didn't fear monsters, demons, ghosts or any other common fears that kids have. I was scared of being alone, of knowing that the whole town was sleeping and that I would be having a restless night, staring at my wall, chasing around sleep. During such nights I would descend on the lower level of our bunk bed, and fall asleep right next to her. My only remedy for sleep was that feeling of being two which I experienced as a tried to synchronize by heart beat to hers.

Today I cherish our moments together as sisters.
I love how we go our separate ways in a store, only to return to the check-out register with the same selections.
I love how we meet up at some place wearing the same clothes.
I love how she sometimes calls me precisely when I am searching my phone for her number.
I love our shared common interest: photography.
I love how we both can dance and sing the night away listen to the Beatles.
I love all the many ways in which we differ from each other.
I am sure she looks up to me for many things, but I know that I look up to her as well to find courage, strength, and that charisma that she is blessed with.

Happy birthday sis. May your heart beat strongly for many, many years to come.

Too many choices...

2006-09-16T17:18:00.000-04:00

Last night I went to the store to get two greeting cards, one for a special baby boy born across the ocean and the other for my sister’s birthday. Shopping for cards always turns out to be a challenge for me and a waste of time as well. Usually 45 minutes or so go buy before I narrow down my frantic search, and even when I stand in line to finally pay for the cards I am still unsure if I made the right choices or not. It’s like a little girl once told me, when I took her out to buy ice-cream: “It’s so hard to shop for ice-cream”. And I asked her why and she said: “too many choices”….

Take It From Me--Weepies

2006-09-15T11:27:00.000-04:00

What can I compare you to, a favorite pair of shoes?
Maybe my bright red boots if they had wings
Funny how we animate colorful objects saved
Funny how it's hard to take a love with no sting.

But come on take it, come on take it, take it from me
But come on take it, come on take it, take it from me (we`ve got a good life).

What can I compare you to, a window the sun shines through?
Maybe the silver moon, a smile rising
The magic of the fading day, satellites on parade
A toast to the plans we've made to live like kings.

I lose my breath despite the air
When the rain falls down I give in to despair
Pink magnolia in winter she doesn't care if you don't show up to have another cup.

What can I compare you to, when everything looks like you?
I get a bit confused with every Spring
Flowers that bloom your eyes, hummingbirds side by side
My heart won't stay entirely in this rib caging

If you have never heard music from The Weepies check them out on NPR's Weekend Edition: http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=6041220

Their music is simple, peaceful, insightful and sweet.

2006-09-12T17:18:00.000-04:00

She said she usually cried at least once each day
not because she was sad,
but because the world was so beautiful and life was so short.~Brian Andreas

I am imagining all the possibilities...

growing

2006-09-08T11:36:00.000-04:00

Today I went for a ride on my bike.
One of the positive things about summer passing is that the heat is not so unbearable anymore.
So today I made two braids out of my hair , one to the right and one to the left, took my camera and a bottle of water and went away exploring my neighborhood.

Today I also woke up feeling angry.
I felt angry at those who have hurt me, angry for the way things have turned out, angry at myself for neglecting certain aspects of my own life.

I have become a master at ignoring the perpetrators of hurt. But ignoring them comes with a hurtful price: passing them by in the street and feeling completely nothing, when once upon a time there was so much feeling there.
It is the saddest feeling ever, but it is my only protection from ever being hurt again.

So I overlooked the other angry feelings, which I know will surface again at another time, and allowed myself to get angrier at me for not having taken care of my future.
I thought that if I got angry enough, I would wake up, and turn my anger into action.
So I rode down a street that is only five minutes away from my house but seems as if it were a world away, closed my eyes, and pedaled as fast as I could. The faster I went the more I could feel the cool breeze gently stroking my face. And then as if all of time in the entire universe had stopped, I felt a wordless insight.
I cannot tell you what it was, it did not speak to me.
It was a certain form of knowing, a feeling.
That empty moment, which lasted long enough to change my angry mood, made more sense to me than anything else had during this entire summer.

Now I know that I am growing!

Summer.

2006-09-07T09:05:00.000-04:00

I dislike that feeling that I usually get at the end of August, beginning of September, when I feel that summer is coming to an end. It’s true that I live in Florida and we don’t get much of a winter here, but it is still sad watching the summer wither away. No more flaming tourists (burned from the sun) running around town, no more calm days at the beach as the waves get wilder and wilder now, no more friends visiting from out of town, no more of that feeling that spells out summer.
Nothing else to share… I am empty during these last days of the summer

To Miss Anonymous...

2006-09-01T12:13:00.000-04:00

...you are not so anonymous to me.
I know who you are.
Thanks to technology I can track down your IP address, internet connection and other details from your visits on my site.
So my advice to you is this: stop wasting time on the internet while you are on the clock at work (yes I am talking to you miss I work in Clearwater, from Summit Building). You might get yourself fired, and I do not think it's worthed to sacrifice your job for the sake of some vulgar comments on my site. Peace to you dear friend.

p.s. you need help!

Fridays

2006-08-28T16:35:00.000-04:00

He said to her “Fridays are dead without you”.
I wondered what it meant.
Why did he miss her so on Fridays?
It tormented my soul.
I cried, while I felt something slipping thru my fingers.
I struggled to hold on to it, but it managed to escape me.
I heard it smash on the cold cement floor.
Have I lost my sanity?

2006-08-26T22:27:00.000-04:00

Remember how I said that sometimes I am looking and sometimes I am not looking for a job. Well, yesterday was one of those days when I went looking for one. I had a job interview, which I am not sure I want after all. But then again I do not know if the guy would actually hire me after openly admitting that I was a registered democrat, and worst of all that I was an intern for the Howard Dean presidential campaign (the problem here was that he was a registered republican).

The interview was typical, why should we hire you, what are your strongest assets, what are your weaknesses, what are your salary requirements, and so on. What wasn’t usual, and very random was the one hour conversation after the interview. The guy was sharp. He understood me. He quickly became aware of my confusion, and all of my apprehensions for my future. So he said to me: you never know what God’s plans are for you! And then he began to tell me his life story how he had always had an aptitude for science and math, how his dad and grandfather had been doctors and he was expected to do be one as well. He never got into a medical school, but he did get admittance to a law school, so he became a lawyer even thought he hated reading and writing. I guess he told me all this in a unobtrusive manner, so he could pass the message: don’t worry!

We then spoke about American attitudes when traveling abroad, we spoke about Paris, we spoke about Mexico, we spoke about politics, Iraq, Bush, Condalisa Rice, and Bill Nelson. At the end of the day I didn’t know what to make of this all. I don’t think the guy will hire me but I might get a call from him sometimes to go out to lunch and talk…

I don’t know what it is about me but somehow I must be a good listener, and especially for the people that I work for. My former boss came to speak to me about his love life. He spoke to me about his troubles with his mom, her over-protectiveness and need for control, and the blind dates that she set up for him with the daughter’s of her Greek friends. He spoke to me about his future business plans, and his growing troubles with his business partner. I always listened, and then game him me two cents on the issue. Sometimes I got so tired of his complaining, his desperation, and I couldn’t imagine how a successful attorney could be so lonely and distressed. One day after he heard me speaking to G on the phone, he confessed to me that “in a good way, he was envious of what we had”. And I looked at him first not knowing what to say, pleased by his revelation but also feeling bitter for him, and then I said: “I’m sure that something like what G and I have is waiting for you somewhere”. Money was not a worry for this guy, he had friends, he had family, but what he was hungry for was to love and be loved. So when The Beatles tell you that “all you need is loves”, listen to them, they are right.

Love cooking, not baking...

2006-08-25T09:30:00.000-04:00

The other night something happened that might discourage me from ever going on a baking mission again. For the first time in my life I decided to make chocolate chip cookies. No, I didn’t make them from scratch, as I am horrible with measurements and probably would have ended with terribly flat and hard as rock cookies. I bought the mixture from my groceries store, and made them easily by following the instructions on the box. Everything was going swell. I made sure that the cookies were perfectly baked, and not burned. I had placed them in a platter and was waiting for them to cool down when I unknowingly pressed my body against the blazing tray that had just come out of the oven. As if I wasn’t tall enough, I was trying to stretch upwards to reach some high cabinets, during which time my shirt went up and the skin two inches under my belly-bottom laid on the burning tray. I swear I heard a kshhhh sound, just like when you first throw eggs in a heated pan. Apparently I was so preoccupied with the cookies not getting burned, that I completely ignored my surroundings and ended up getting a burn in my own belly. It hurt as hell (the skin in that area is very sensitive, trust me), but what ticked me off the most was the line across my stomach about two inches long. At the moment it looks like a strange, purposeless tattoo. If I pull the two ends of the burn upward it will take the shape of a smiley face. I imagine that after the burned skin will fall out of days it will look like an incision from an operation. No more baking for me. I love cooking but apparently baking is just not cut out for a girl like me.
I think it’s time to buy a one piece bathing suit (for the first time in my adult life)…

P.S. If you want to know about the cookies they came out quite nice, chewy and everything. It was just difficult enjoying them...

I am back.

2006-08-24T09:42:00.000-04:00

I am all crunched in my seat reading Delta’s Sky Magazine, while listening to my tunes. I had planned to read a book during the flight, but apparently I forgot it in the car that dropped me off at the airport during the rush of double checking my purse to make sure that I was not taking any prohibited items on the plane. I guess it is better that I forgot the book, instead of something like my ID or wallet (though that would have not been a huge surprise for someone like me).

So as I sit here reading Sky Magazine and among the numerous travel articles, which make me lust for a vacation under the Tuscan sun or the Turkish white beaches, I found a friend. His name was Gavin Pretor Pinney, who get this: wrote a book about clouds, titled The Cloudspotter’s Guide. He was also the co-founder of the Cloud Appreciation Society. As silly as this may sound, he is my kind of friend. Rock on brother!
I would love to meet this guy and talk to him about our uncommon, common interest.
As I wrote this (on a delta napkin, due to the fact that I was lacking paper to write on) I was surrounded by clouds….
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I am back from the Big Apple, which was grand as always.
I had a horrifying dream last nigh. My father, who is a man powerless of hurting a bee, let alone a human, in my dream had killed two men and had taken a huge sum of money from them.
Silly dream had me wake up early today…I guess it wasn't so bad, I got to live the early morning sun without getting exhausted from the heat.

My mailman etc.

2006-08-17T11:00:00.000-04:00

This morning I was watering my plants and hosing down the whole front yard when the mailman pulled up to deliver today’s mail. I was surprised; he usually comes around 4-5 o’clock in the afternoon, so I asked why so early and he simply said, why not early miss? I had no objection to that. For as long as I remember I have lived in places where the mail always came late in the afternoon, so I wasn’t going to complain about it arriving early. I have a thing about the mail; I love to run down my driveway and pick up it up. Most of the time it is because I anticipate books that I have purchased online to arrive. What I don’t like is the same credit card offers that come in every single day. I am amazed at how much time, effort and money is put into these offers. Haven’t they realized that they have been sending me the same piece of mail for the last couple of months and not once have I replied. I bet they are just waiting for me to finally break down and activate one of their credit cards. No mate, I shall not give them that pleasure! And then I think about all the paper wasted for this lost cause, and I cannot help but recycle and recycle.

My mailman is the nosiest person I have ever known. He knows everything about everyone in the neighborhood, provided that he has been driving the same route for the last fifteen years or so. He is quite a character; I also think he wears a wig. In fact I am almost positive about this, but it’s just that .0001% possibility that it might just be a bad hair style.

When we first moved in he told me that the previous owners of the house were from Haiti. I already knew that, but what I didn’t know was that the husband was not in Haiti on business as the wife had informed us during the purchase of our home, but instead in jail. According to my mailman he was a notorious serial killer. It was eerie knowing that this killer had once lived in my home.

On another occasion the mailman told me that my next door neighbor was the city manager, supposedly a big shot in local politics and so on. The city manager is strange too. He always leaves on a lamp by the window of one of his second floor rooms, regardless if he is in or not, or if it’s day or night (but I won’t get into that right now). The mailman also told me that the family of a local professor, who has been incarcerated on terrorism charges, lived just about three houses from me. What was I to do with all this information?Iit was useless. I could not help but think that if God-forbid I were to ever get into trouble, the whole neighborhood would know. I am sure the mailman would love to tell them all.

Today, apart from all the junk mail I also received another
SARK book. By now it has become a ritual. I order the book, wait for it to arrive, and then I put a kettle of tea on the stove and start reading the book immediately. When I finish it I am full of energy.

Finally a good movie.

2006-08-16T10:03:00.000-04:00

We entered Blockbuster, walked around and selected a movie. We then headed to the check out lane and waited in line for our turn. As the employee at the register greeted us “good evening”, we looked at each other and simultaneously said “not this movie”. We returned to the shelves and took our first choice. A decision made in a split second changed our evening and allowed us to enjoy one of the best movies we had seen in a long time. Decisions like this change your life too, not just an evening. Instead of going to a football game, he had come to meet with me.

Getting back to the movie, I do not care what the critics say about it (I read some very discouraging reviews,) Lost City was well done by Andy Garcia, depicting a dramatic and historical romantic tribute to pre-revolutionary Cuba. The movie evokes memories from a world long ago; it is poetic, nostalgic, possess texture with vivid images and it is drenched in magical music. Yes, the movie does have some historical flaws and incoherencies, but nonetheless it is powerful. Perhaps I also relate to it on a different level when seeing the sense of loss, and changes associated with a person who leaves his/her home country and for a certain period of time is left stateless, with identities that have roots somewhere in the middle of both worlds.

I enjoyed it; it gave me the gift of a pleasant evening, no matter how “lost” critics have acclaimed it to be.

Jose Marti poems incorporated into the movie.
I could have found them in English, but they would loose their essence.

Yo soy un hombre sincero
De donde crece la palma,
Y antes de morirme quiero
Echar mis versos del alma.

Yo vengo de todas partes,
Y hacia todas partes voy:
Arte soy entre las artes,
En los montes, monte soy.
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Cultivo una rosa blanca
en junio como enero
para el amigo sincero
que me da su mano franca.

Y para el cruel que me arranca
el corazón con que vivo,
cardo ni ortiga cultivo;
cultivo la rosa blanca.