Hello old friend.
Hello old friend.
If I'm honest, (and of what I can do, that's really best)
I haven't been the companion I should have been.
This venture, this friendship, is as much for my benefit as it is yours
and--
I've found myself wanting--absent, e'en.
Hello old friend.
I want to thank you for always being here,
when I need to get something off my chest--
here--
when it's way too late (early) to claim decency (or sanity)--
here--
to agree, or disagree, but always enlighten--
here--
hello old friend.
If I've been absent, I have not forgotten you.
I think of you often,
yet I find that if I spend too much time with you
I take you for granted and then . . .
I forget how important you are.
Every reunion only gets warmer,
and I have to thank you from the bottom of my soul.
Thanks, old friend.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Reminiscing
Since I was a patojito, I like listening to something to fall asleep to, whether it's the radio (just loud enough for a constant murmur, low enough for it to be gibberish), music, or a fan.
So right now, I'm listening to Pandora and Bon Iver's For Emma comes on and, while I can't make out the lyrics, the music gives me nostalgia.
I haven't been very active on blogger lately, what with job hunting and the frustration that it brings. Recently, I had the good fortune of being able to choose between two job offers. While my decision was well thought and prayed out, I hate the feeling of taking a life-changing decision. It feels so absolute, and while I know it isn't--most likely the chord sequence just emphasizing all the "could have beens" in my head--it still is nerve wracking.
I wish I knew 100% I made the right choice.
In the end, it will have been, because there is no way to test otherwise, I suppose.
What is the what.
So right now, I'm listening to Pandora and Bon Iver's For Emma comes on and, while I can't make out the lyrics, the music gives me nostalgia.
I haven't been very active on blogger lately, what with job hunting and the frustration that it brings. Recently, I had the good fortune of being able to choose between two job offers. While my decision was well thought and prayed out, I hate the feeling of taking a life-changing decision. It feels so absolute, and while I know it isn't--most likely the chord sequence just emphasizing all the "could have beens" in my head--it still is nerve wracking.
I wish I knew 100% I made the right choice.
In the end, it will have been, because there is no way to test otherwise, I suppose.
What is the what.
Wednesday, August 6, 2014
Carlos
An inflatable raft sits on the grass, guarded by a little boy in a faded Spider-Man shirt a couple of feet from the river. Twenty dollars and some booze, per person. Yes, even the little girl who couldn't be past six with the gel sandals will cost twenty dollars. In fact, once she's on the other side, there's no guaranteeing someone would count her as a whole human being for a while. The guard seems more nervous than some at this point. Maybe that's why he has a kid towing the raft. Maybe if he gets found out he'll lose his job. Maybe if he does, he, too, would make the journey north.
After announcing that all passengers owe him five bucks, the kid informs the group that they will have to stay down, on their hands and knees, heads in between the legs of the person in front. Pure adrenaline rushes through the passengers veins. Carlos puts his wallet in his underwear. No pickpocket is going to get his money. At least no pickpocket heading the same way as he is. With how much money he has had to dish out to shady guards and clever kids, maybe it would be better if he just helped people across instead of actually looking for a job up north.
Soon, the signal is given. The kid pulls the raft into the river, and the five passengers shakily climb in. The little girl is quiet and focused, as if she knew how serious this was. Carlos realizes he needs to pee.
--Con cuidado, con silencio, mucha suerte y que Dios les acompañe!
The guard tips his hat at them and walks off briskly. If the group gets caught within 30 miles, they'll come looking for him and he needs to be far enough away to not know what happened here tonight. Now if he could only find his bottle opener . . .
Carlos is the fourth in the boat. The person in front smells like he swam the river and back and walked around for two weeks. At the front someone is whispering, turning beads on a rosary like a mad man. The raft starts to move. Te quiero, Mexico! Someone's shaky voice.
Carlos is tense. A cramp threatens and his shoulders are sore tight. Everyone takes shallow breaths. The raft doesn't seem like it is moving. Only the kid splashing along beside, huffing and puffing, gives any sign of action.
Something's not right. Carlos feels his hands getting wet, then his knees getting cold fast. He wants to put his head up but he's scared to give away his presence.
"Hijue--" The raft capsizes amid swearing from the would-be sailors. Everyone lunges for the girl. Someone's backpack gets carried away by the current. The man swims out, but is dragged back by his friend. "My stuff man! My fake papers!"
"No, they're lost! Don't go man--"
"But I need those! I've got it all there--"
"They're gone, just let them go, there's nothing you can do. Swim, the undercurrent is strong here."
Carlos doggy paddles. It has got to be but three meters at the most, but the current pulls him sideways faster than he can go forward. He decides he better not look back at the struggling couple with the little girl.
A sharp pain shoots up from his shoe into his knee. A branch cuts right through his shoe and gashes his foot and shin. Biting hard, Carlos clenches his fists. The surge of pain passes, and he warns the others. "Cuidado, there's branches here that are sharp!"
No one responds, but he knows they heard him.
Just a few more feet. Kick, kick, the water doesn't move aside fast enough. If only someone could part his Jordan River.
Swim, swim.
Finally, Carlos claws the mud at the other side. He pulls at the grass and pulls himself up. He stops to look at his foot and wait for the others.
The others slowly make their way up, and he helps them up.
"Jesus, your foot!"
Carlos nods. He and the others help the family up. The little girl is wet all over, but she is quiet.
The kid that was pulling raft rests and looks at them with a chilling smile.
"Good luck! Don't stop now, you have to keep going!"
Somehow, the grass in Texas isn't greener.
After announcing that all passengers owe him five bucks, the kid informs the group that they will have to stay down, on their hands and knees, heads in between the legs of the person in front. Pure adrenaline rushes through the passengers veins. Carlos puts his wallet in his underwear. No pickpocket is going to get his money. At least no pickpocket heading the same way as he is. With how much money he has had to dish out to shady guards and clever kids, maybe it would be better if he just helped people across instead of actually looking for a job up north.
Soon, the signal is given. The kid pulls the raft into the river, and the five passengers shakily climb in. The little girl is quiet and focused, as if she knew how serious this was. Carlos realizes he needs to pee.
--Con cuidado, con silencio, mucha suerte y que Dios les acompañe!
The guard tips his hat at them and walks off briskly. If the group gets caught within 30 miles, they'll come looking for him and he needs to be far enough away to not know what happened here tonight. Now if he could only find his bottle opener . . .
Carlos is the fourth in the boat. The person in front smells like he swam the river and back and walked around for two weeks. At the front someone is whispering, turning beads on a rosary like a mad man. The raft starts to move. Te quiero, Mexico! Someone's shaky voice.
Carlos is tense. A cramp threatens and his shoulders are sore tight. Everyone takes shallow breaths. The raft doesn't seem like it is moving. Only the kid splashing along beside, huffing and puffing, gives any sign of action.
Something's not right. Carlos feels his hands getting wet, then his knees getting cold fast. He wants to put his head up but he's scared to give away his presence.
"Hijue--" The raft capsizes amid swearing from the would-be sailors. Everyone lunges for the girl. Someone's backpack gets carried away by the current. The man swims out, but is dragged back by his friend. "My stuff man! My fake papers!"
"No, they're lost! Don't go man--"
"But I need those! I've got it all there--"
"They're gone, just let them go, there's nothing you can do. Swim, the undercurrent is strong here."
Carlos doggy paddles. It has got to be but three meters at the most, but the current pulls him sideways faster than he can go forward. He decides he better not look back at the struggling couple with the little girl.
A sharp pain shoots up from his shoe into his knee. A branch cuts right through his shoe and gashes his foot and shin. Biting hard, Carlos clenches his fists. The surge of pain passes, and he warns the others. "Cuidado, there's branches here that are sharp!"
No one responds, but he knows they heard him.
Just a few more feet. Kick, kick, the water doesn't move aside fast enough. If only someone could part his Jordan River.
Swim, swim.
Finally, Carlos claws the mud at the other side. He pulls at the grass and pulls himself up. He stops to look at his foot and wait for the others.
The others slowly make their way up, and he helps them up.
"Jesus, your foot!"
Carlos nods. He and the others help the family up. The little girl is wet all over, but she is quiet.
The kid that was pulling raft rests and looks at them with a chilling smile.
"Good luck! Don't stop now, you have to keep going!"
Somehow, the grass in Texas isn't greener.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
I don't know what to title this post about Child Immigrants
First, watch this video.
Second, let's take a look at all the nonsense O'Reilly mentions in his . . . commentary.
We can't absorb all the world's children.
Why O'Reilly had to bring up Haiti's and Brazil's children is beyond me. The issue here isn't those children, who are not coming in droves. So, there's no need to absorb them. His verb, absorb, is weird. Why he would think that someone wants to be absorbed baffles me. No one wants to be absorbed--they want to survive. Either way, if children are in trouble, wouldn't it be a good thing to take them in and help them? Wouldn't we rather protect them here?
Every child in Sub-Saharan Africa...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
It would be cheaper to activate the National Guard
For the record, Rick Perry did activate the National Guard. O'Reilly's assessment couldn't be further from the truth. To wit, in an article published July 21 on the Texas Tribune, the cost of the 1,000 National Guard troops along with other security is estimated at $17 million a week. Yikes.
The US and Mexico closing their borders will solve the problem of the children being put in danger
No, they're running away from danger. Sending them back will actually put them in danger.
What Jorge Ramos proved by crossing the river himself was how dangerous it was crossing the river . . . not detailing that several countries have to be crossed too, the river being the last hurdle to jump. At that point, a river or a fence isn't going to discourage anyone.
The point is this. The danger the children are fleeing is so large that they would rather cross several countries, borders, gang wars and rivers and fences. The journey's danger is seemed as a risk worth taking.
Closing the border or sending troops won't stop anyone, especially because children actually seek out those in uniform once they're across.
I know I'm only hammering away at an already-dead turkey here. You can Youtube search O'Reilly and what you'll find is clueless posts backing him and hilarious satires, especially from Colbert and Jon Stewart.
What I want to get at is the fact that someone kept silent all this hullabaloo when it first started. The GOP only started to point fingers when there were already over 50,000 children across the border. Deporting children is not only immoral, but a direct violation of articles 1, 2, 3, 9, 13, 14, 25 and 30 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
Second, let's take a look at all the nonsense O'Reilly mentions in his . . . commentary.
We can't absorb all the world's children.
Why O'Reilly had to bring up Haiti's and Brazil's children is beyond me. The issue here isn't those children, who are not coming in droves. So, there's no need to absorb them. His verb, absorb, is weird. Why he would think that someone wants to be absorbed baffles me. No one wants to be absorbed--they want to survive. Either way, if children are in trouble, wouldn't it be a good thing to take them in and help them? Wouldn't we rather protect them here?
Every child in Sub-Saharan Africa...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
It would be cheaper to activate the National Guard
For the record, Rick Perry did activate the National Guard. O'Reilly's assessment couldn't be further from the truth. To wit, in an article published July 21 on the Texas Tribune, the cost of the 1,000 National Guard troops along with other security is estimated at $17 million a week. Yikes.
The US and Mexico closing their borders will solve the problem of the children being put in danger
No, they're running away from danger. Sending them back will actually put them in danger.
What Jorge Ramos proved by crossing the river himself was how dangerous it was crossing the river . . . not detailing that several countries have to be crossed too, the river being the last hurdle to jump. At that point, a river or a fence isn't going to discourage anyone.
The point is this. The danger the children are fleeing is so large that they would rather cross several countries, borders, gang wars and rivers and fences. The journey's danger is seemed as a risk worth taking.
Closing the border or sending troops won't stop anyone, especially because children actually seek out those in uniform once they're across.
I know I'm only hammering away at an already-dead turkey here. You can Youtube search O'Reilly and what you'll find is clueless posts backing him and hilarious satires, especially from Colbert and Jon Stewart.
What I want to get at is the fact that someone kept silent all this hullabaloo when it first started. The GOP only started to point fingers when there were already over 50,000 children across the border. Deporting children is not only immoral, but a direct violation of articles 1, 2, 3, 9, 13, 14, 25 and 30 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
Island of Dreams, II
This was the scene I wrote for the annual theater production at Union College. The play, titled Fifty Years Later, was more of a vignette aimed at reviewing events of the civil rights movement fifty years ago and its implications for today.
Act one was a narration of key events leading to the March on Washington, aided with music and songs from the movement. For act one, I had lines in only two scenes: one, in which I explained the way that the antebellum laws of America were shaped around the belief that (shamelessly borrowing from George Orwell) all people are created equal, just some people are more equal than others. The second scene I was in I recited a City of Lincoln mayor's respond to criticism after banning non-whites from a new city pool. I felt terrible, being non-white myself.
Act two consisted of short scenes written by a group of cast members dealing with civil rights in today's environment. Native American rights (the most polarizing line: "we are not a mascot of a football team"), stereotypes on blacks and women and immigration were all touched.
My scene was inspired by a short documentary of Ellis Island. I saw how immigration has always been a touchy subject. Times may have changed, but circumstances of today's immigrants at the Southern border are not unlike those on the East Coast 100 years ago.
Burma is mentioned because they are the largest growing minority group in Lincoln.
I tried to put in as many hidden things in the scene. The chalk number, 1907, was the year with the greatest number of immigrants coming through Ellis Island. Anyone with a number at the station was held overnight because they were deemed unhealthy and with the probability of spreading disease in America.
It was awesome that after the play one night some girl came up to me and told me she understood what the number meant. I felt like a movie director that had hid an Easter egg in a movie and someone caught it and understood it. (I did the same sort of thing as editor of the Clocktower when the last sentence of the last page of the last issue I was in charge of read "This newspaper was tested on animals. They couldn't read it.").
Act one was a narration of key events leading to the March on Washington, aided with music and songs from the movement. For act one, I had lines in only two scenes: one, in which I explained the way that the antebellum laws of America were shaped around the belief that (shamelessly borrowing from George Orwell) all people are created equal, just some people are more equal than others. The second scene I was in I recited a City of Lincoln mayor's respond to criticism after banning non-whites from a new city pool. I felt terrible, being non-white myself.
Act two consisted of short scenes written by a group of cast members dealing with civil rights in today's environment. Native American rights (the most polarizing line: "we are not a mascot of a football team"), stereotypes on blacks and women and immigration were all touched.
My scene was inspired by a short documentary of Ellis Island. I saw how immigration has always been a touchy subject. Times may have changed, but circumstances of today's immigrants at the Southern border are not unlike those on the East Coast 100 years ago.
Burma is mentioned because they are the largest growing minority group in Lincoln.
I tried to put in as many hidden things in the scene. The chalk number, 1907, was the year with the greatest number of immigrants coming through Ellis Island. Anyone with a number at the station was held overnight because they were deemed unhealthy and with the probability of spreading disease in America.
It was awesome that after the play one night some girl came up to me and told me she understood what the number meant. I felt like a movie director that had hid an Easter egg in a movie and someone caught it and understood it. (I did the same sort of thing as editor of the Clocktower when the last sentence of the last page of the last issue I was in charge of read "This newspaper was tested on animals. They couldn't read it.").
Island of Dreams, I
Island of Dreams
Actor 1: Woman, doesn’t
have the five dollars to enter.
Actor 2: Man, has
been waiting overnight. Sick. Period costume, chalk number on his suit (meaning
he has an “illness”).
Actor 3: Man, husband
of 4. Allowed to stay
Actor 4: Woman, wife
of 3. Sent back
Actor 6:
Receptionist. Working away at paperwork.
7,8 extras. All just
waiting for their names to be called.
Officer 1: Tired
demeanor
Officer 2: Tired
demeanor
Setting: Ellis
Island. Some actors are dressed to period standards (1910s) and some are
dressed to modern standards. They are intermingled. Stage is set to look like a
waiting room, and there are two officers in “offices” to where people are
called to. One is dressed period and the other modern. Background noise of
people talking, babies crying, papers rustling
SCENE START
Actors 2,3,4 are sitting, chatting with 6,7,8 about the
trip.
Actor 7: How long was your trip?
Actor 3: We got lucky, it was only two weeks. The weather
wasn’t too bad.
Actor 7: Hear that, Bertha? The man made it in two weeks!
Actor 8: My nephew came about six months ago and he said it
took him an entire month!
Actor 4: Is this your first time here?
Actor 8: No, they turned me back last time, (faces Actor 2) –tuberculosis, you know.
As soon as I landed home I turned around and got on the boat back.
Actor 7: Yup, that’s where we met.
Actor 2: So why did you come back? Is it worth it here?
Actor 8: They say it is. Better than Burma.
Actor 1 walks in,
hesitates on a seat and finally decides on one. Everyone stares.
Actor 3: I think they might send me back.
Actor 4: Don’t say that, we’ve been praying non-stop. You
saw they let me stay.
Actor 3: Yes, but—
Actor 6: 2 and 3 may proceed.
Actor 4, 7, 8: Good luck!
Actors 2 and 3 sit
down and officers don’t even acknowledge the two coming in. Just motion with
their hands to sit down.
Actor 4: Hi
Actor 1: merely nods.
Actor 2: I want to work
Actor 1: I want to provide a better life for my daughter
Actor 3: I want my son to get a good education
officers write on
their notepads. Still haven't looked up at the people sitting in front of them.
Actor 4 and Officers 1 and 2: Where are you from?
Actor 3: El Salvador
Actor 2: Ireland
Actor 1: Italy. You?
Actor 4: Mexico. What do you do for a living?
Officers 1 and 2: Occupation?
Actor 2: Carpenter
Actor 3: Doctor
Actor 1: Housewife
Officers 1 and 2: How much money do you have with you?
Actor 2: $25
Actor 3: Here's the price of admission. shows money. Not much, but I want to work and help this country as
much as possible.
Actor 1: breaks down
and cries do you have money to lend me? I didn't know you needed money to
get in!
Actor 4: I only have enough for me!
Actor 1 looks at 7,8
Actors 7,8: ad lib
about not having, but will ask others. ACTOR 1 crying softly
Officers 1 and 2: Okay. Take this paperwork to the
Receptionist. You may leave.
Actors 2 and 3 take
their papers leave the offices. Hand papers to Receptionist, 2 first. 3 waits
in line after him.
Receptionist: I'm sorry, but your illness is deemed a threat
to the safety of the United States of America. we do not want you infecting
this country. Please go to the left and board the boat back to Liverpool.
Actor 2: No, please, I'm not sick! I only want to help this
country out! I'm not a disease!
Receptionist: Please sir. There's nothing I can do about
that. Next.
Actor 3: Here are the forms.
Receptionist: I'm sorry, sir, but we cannot risk you taking
out benefits in this country—
Actor 3: But I won't, I'm here to work—
Receptionist: Sorry. You'll be taking our jobs. Go to the
left door, and get on the plane which will be departing soon.
Actor 3: My family is here!
Receptionist: Door to the left.
Actor 4: What will we do?
Actor 3: I'll be back soon. I'm coming back whatever the
cost, and claiming the opportunity they advertise.
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
What goes in my brain . . .
I do not watch just anything on television or films that come along. I know friends that hear of a new show or a new movie, watch the trailer, think it has enough explosions and naked people and decide they are going to watch it.
I try to keep to things that will give me a chance to expand my mind a bit. I won't watch just any Oscar-winning movie, I won't read just any bestseller, and I won't watch just any award-winning show.
So why do I watch Doctor Who? Surely, a fifty-year-old science-fiction show with aliens and stuff blowing up isn't fit for my rather high standards!
Let me tell you why: I can't explain it in a few words. Honestly, I find the writing incredible, and beneath all the aliens and funny parts, there are quotes like "In 900 years of space and time I haven't met anyone who isn't important."
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