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goodbye, blog.

models

"they look like inbred germans." - husband

idiot

i've always been a firm believer in empathy as the key to a better world. now by empathy, i don't mean "niceness," a simplistic assumption that people often make. it's a much more complicated and beautiful thing. via one of my yoga teachers, here is an animated ted talk on "emphatic civilization," which lays it out nicely.

watching the video brought back for me a moment from my NYU days. a few roommates and i were staying in to watch spiderman, not sure which one. at some point in the movie, peter parker decides to hang up his superhero mantle in order to protect his loved ones, and as a demonstration of this decision there comes a scene where parker walks away from a man getting mugged in an alleyway. i thought this was dumb. why a dumb scene in this movie would surprise me, i don't know, but it did.

"why wouldn't he help the guy?" i asked.
one of my roommates explained that he was no longer spiderman.
"but that doesn't make sense. you don't need to be a superhero to help out a guy getting mugged. if i saw someone getting beat up by a mugger on the street, i would do something. i wouldn't just ignore him because i'm not spiderman."
to which the roommate responded, "well, that's because you're an idiot."

now i can't remember how the movie ended, or what else i did that night, or even when exactly this happened, but that less-than-2-minute conversation stuck with me. it's true, trying to help someone getting mugged could be risky, but i don't think i would be able to just walk away. this comes back to empathy-- hearing someone cry for help would make me help because i would picture myself in that person's shoes and feel his pain, fear, and desperation. i remember i was taken aback by the roommate's comment because i hadn't considered the possibility that my reaction was anything out of the ordinary. could it be? was i a minority in society for feeling empathy? for believing that i should help another person regardless of some minimal personal risk? i suppose describing it that way makes it sound heroic, but seriously, does anyone really believe that helping someone makes you a hero? isn't it kind of sad that such an insignificant thing would be considered the sign of an extraordinary individual? because an extraordinary individual is how i would loosely define a "hero," which is the same for an "idiot." it's true. but, my definition of the average joe is a human being with at least enough empathy to help a guy out when he's getting mugged in broad daylight. neither a hero nor an idiot, just... average.

so basic empathy--hero? idiot? average joe? several years have passed since that night, and still i can't say say conclusively whether that roommate's sad definition of "idiot" is a shared by more of the world. but if it is, then for the sake of the human race, and especially mugging victims everywhere, let's hope we can make "idiot" the new average.

graciasadios

i feel like with our move to mexico, i'm losing touch with life in the states. people and things are more quickly fading away into the past. honestly, this has been both good and bad. bad because it's so much harder for me to keep those i love in my present. good because the bad stuff is just gone. it's hard to hold on to hard feelings when you hear horrific stories every day. yea, so maybe you're a dumb bitch who's been awful to me, but it's not like you blew off my head, chopped up my body, and dumped the pieces in an empty lot. we're good.
the stories are paralyzing. when we first got here, i was too afraid to leave the house. federales patrol the streets, ten to a truck, armed with rifles and machine guns, conjuring up every scary image from the u.s. newspapers. the local news is a constant stream of murder reports. it's a war zone, i thought, we should be evacuated.
but over the past 3 weeks, juarez has grown on me. the stories of violence keep coming, but we haven't seen anything so far. people are out and about, picnicking in the park, going to art galleries, drinking margaritas on restaurant patios, and living their lives. this weekend i saw arte en el parque, sang along with a chumbawumba cover band at applebees (ap-leh-behs), and drank a pina colada at the movies, all in the most dangerous city in the world. there's more to juarez than drugs and murder. almost every car on the street sports an "amor por juarez" sticker, with a heart and peace fingers. well over a million people call this place home, and love it.
a friend volunteered me to take part in an art project collaborating with JR and the Inside Out project to reveal the true faces of juarez. i don't know a thing about taking pictures, but i agreed. at the very least, it'll be an opportunity to explore more of juarez, and seek out the beautiful things. later this month, i'm going to help build a roof on a church. it's in a rough part of town, but i'm sure we'll be safe. hopefully i'll get some good photos for the art project. a photographer friend suggested disposables to get a nice grainy look. grainy enough to disguise the crappiness of my photos? maybe. my plan is to point and shoot in all directions constantly. out of a billion, one has to turn out, right?

vamos a ver.

wedding

for months, i've been collecting junk and gluing and cutting and glittering and folding and crafting for the wedding. it was going to be 100% DIY and 100% awesome, i thought. i can do this. after a while i started to wonder what the hell i was thinking. everything in the house, including us, was covered in glue, glitter, embossing powder, and paper scraps, and i was developing carpal tunnel from all the sewing. when we got to the farm friday night, and i saw all the space we had to fill with our boxes of handmade decorations, i nearly had a panic attack. we should have just hired an event planner and a decorator and a goddamn florist, i thought. this is going to be a disaster

now that it's all over, my memory must be blurring exactly how stressful and laborious the process was, because i have to say that a DIY wedding is the way to go. **caveats: i had a ton of time, superhuman bridesmaids, selfless friends, and wendy kim. if you are missing any of these components, you may want to think twice.** our wedding was small, only about 60 guests that we considered the closest of the close. so we designed and handmade every save the date and invitation. i sewed names onto each favor bag, stamped and embossed each escort card, and made a paper flower for every seat. my bridesmaid and new sister evelyn stitched together the programs one by one. i felt like the hand-madeness of it all communicated how special each guest was to us. for the reception area, we worked in the barn with the wedding party and a few incredible and selfless friends until 1AM the night before dragging tables, cutting burlap for tablecloths, filling jars and cups with chili peppers, and cursing at the half-constructed dance floor. in the morning, the bridesmaids and i stripped leaves and dethorned a bunch of flowers and figured out on the spot how to make a bouquet. for our altar, we got a bunch of tree branches from the flower district, and the boys somehow constructed an arch. saying our vows in front of something that my husband and his brothers built made the ceremony extra meaningful. the gift box was an old microscope carrier that sta found in an antique shop and then had carved with our wedding logo and names. our "DJ" was just a playlist put together by chuck and me, until some of the guests took over and put on whatever they wanted. every single person danced, even chuck's grandmother, and the party went on until 4AM.
the wedding felt like a group effort, that slowly came together, even as it was going on, through the efforts of every person present. it wasn't a party put on for us by strangers. every single detail at the wedding-- the signs, the jars of candles and chili peppers, the floral arrangements, the programs, the music, everything, was made by me, chuck, the wedding party, or a guest. we constantly had these * OH SHIT * moments-- the seating chart went missing, we forgot a guestbook, the groom lost his shoes-- but somebody would always somehow save the day. we couldn't have pulled of this crazy half-baked plan without our self-assembled team. i realize also that even if things hadn't looked as fantastic as they did, it would have still been an awesome time. our people were pretty great. so thank you to the wedding party and every single guest who helped out somehow, either by agreeing to MC at the last minute or just by showing off your dance moves. i've never had so much fun in my life, and i'm so grateful that you all were there to usher us into our happily ever after.

(oh, and hi robert.)

pillow talk

the boy and i often have interesting discussions in bed before going to sleep. the topics range from human morality to the cuteness of wall-e. often, because we are in bed about to go to sleep, the boy is very sleepy. i think most people find it irritating or rude when their significant others doze off during conversations, but honestly, i thoroughly encourage you to try it. it's hilarious.
usually, the boy does not admit to being sleepy. for a little while he hides it effectively. i'm tipped off when he says something like, "yes, but caterpillar go sun it," or "why clown sink lawn?" when he snaps back to consciousness after the nonsense rambling, i don't say anything about it. the conversation continues, with him intermittently drifting off and speaking nonsense, and then waking back up to continue the conversation, believing himself to be a master of sleepy deception. the doze-off moments gradually grow longer, until he is literally snoring for several minutes before waking up with no idea that the time has passed. he will then attempt to continue the conversation with a generic statement, like "right, right" or "mmhm, interesting." at this point i can easily change the topic to something else, like why sharks look so good in pink, or that strawberries contain trace amounts of jelly beans. conclusions? because of the dorsal fin, and the government should seriously stop funding the FDA. we all know it's just a scam that secretly funds the preservation of ugly people.

oh so pretty

i really need to stop reading these blogs. almost every hour, i fight the urge to call off the wedding just so i can start planning everything all over again according to a new theme. favorite childhood storybook? elephants? being irish? oh eff me, i love it so much. it almost makes me wish i could just cop out and hire a wedding planner.

ha just kidding.

call me an outlaw

as i was walking my dog around the block this morning in the pouring rain, i was suddenly struck by the fact that even there in my soaked hood and water puddled in my shoes, i was happy. in fact, i am happy every single day. somehow i am sure that this is breaking a law of the universe.

please make sense

i understand that the government needs to cut spending. obviously they can't just take away all the services that the government is supposed to be providing for the people... because, you know, people deserve services and... we pay taxes... you know. but anyways, so they're cutting funds for women's health care. because they're not really people! or... maybe the services just aren't that important. or maybe a mixture of both. whatever, who cares.

seriously though, this is crazy. women getting kicked to the curb? could you be any more cliche? come on, be original for once. and the bigger question i have is, where the fuck are all those committees that are supposed to be protecting families? they're everywhere all the time, never shutting up about our families and how they need protection from imminent danger, and they build our terror about this imminent danger until we feel like your heads are going to explode. where the hell are you guys? imminent danger!! imminent danger!! oh wait, they think the imminent danger is gay marriage, i forgot. some days, i find it absolutely impossible not to give up all hope in life and resign myself to a corner of my room to spend the rest of my days slamming my head against the wall. are you people fucking blind?! when it comes to attacks against families, i feel like the health of your mothers, wives, sisters, and daughters should outweigh your fear of 2 people you do not know and have probably never even met getting married.

SERIOUSLY. WHAT THE HELL. !#*$(#@&*%*(&WT()*TE()W#*%)!*(#$*!

i'm going to my corner now.

best of both worlds

my dad was a mechanic and also suffered from terrible allergies. i remember that his pockets were always stuffed with tissues and wads of napkins with assorted restaurant logos, and that he would often roll up some of that paper into a nostril plug for the sake of convenience. my mom's hair always stuck out every which way in the mornings. her bangs would stand up above her forehead like antennae. after getting out of bed, she would always throw on a wool sweater to ward off the chill in the kitchen.

last night i went to bed with wet hair. this morning i woke up unable to breathe after sleeping next to my dog who either suffers from severe alopecia or is somehow being exposed to chemo. i got up, pulled on a sweater, and shuffled into the kitchen. chuck had to leave earlier than usual, so i was too rushed packing lunch to stop and blow my nose every 5 seconds. i wadded up a tissue and plugged.

after chuck left, i returned to bed to get some more sleep, and on the way passed a mirror.

...words cannot describe my horror.

jules verne

back in grade school, we had something called "earth science," which mainly involved finding rocks around the schoolyard, giving them fancy classifications like "metamorphic," and pretending they were extraordinary. earth science was not my favorite subject. we did have one project though that i remember enjoying-- an illustrated storybook of our adventure into the center of the earth. we were to write a story in which we design a machine that digs us through the earth's layers, and all along the way we creatively weave in facts to demonstrate our retention of the material. ie: "wow it sure is taking a long time to get through this crust, even though it is the earth's thinnest layer!" or "my face is melting because we are floating in magma, which is extremely hot!"
anyways, i don't really remember much about my book, except that after we designed our earth-tunneling machines, we were supposed to name them. i named mine lidenbrock, and when my teacher asked why, i said, "he's the professor in jules verne's book, a journey to the center of the earth." this impressed my teacher profusely, who apparently hadn't heard of scholastic's abridged classics, and she awarded me a red monty star pencil for being a super reader.

so the point of this story was to say, happy birthday, jules verne. and thanks for the pencil.

maturity

i finally gave in and changed my email address to something more grown up. it feels strangely tragic.

Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed on now
Will be a tattered weed of small worth held.

OH WOE!

anyways, you can now reach me at pastmyprime@adulthood.net.

sorry, martha

there seems to be a permanent sale on spare ribs and jumbo shrimp at whole foods, and over the past few weeks i've become obsessed with baking. which means that we have blueberry muffins every morning, cheesecake or pie every night, and last night i made a thousand empanadas to store in my freezer. they'll probably last until the end of this week. for lunch today i am having leftover paella from last night, and then i'm making cheese-stuffed burger patties to store in the freezer, next to the empanadas. maybe for dinner tonight i'll include a salad. and by salad i mean sprinkling some lettuce atop a wheel of cheese.

all the wedding blogs and magazines are telling me to start dieting now. unfortunately, i am a bad listener and a fatass, who will have BBQ and kegs of beer at her wedding reception. paula deene should start a wedding blog. i would be all over that.

"rape"

i've always appreciated the valiant efforts of the GOP to not only listen to and protect the american people, but also to push us to be better, tougher, stronger individuals. their tough love strategy is something that i truly admire and believe in, especially when it comes to certain female individuals who consider themselves to be rape victims.

now, let's be real here. is rape really all that bad? yea, sure, maybe. but if you're raped and end up pregnant, should the government care and offer you some help? the GOP's answer is, depends: was it forcible rape, as opposed to the other kind of rape? if someone punches you in the face, breaks all your bones, stabs you a few times, and then has sex with you, then we can all agree that you are a real victim and deserve some help. but if someone simply has sex with you without your consent, without leaving any marks to prove you were "forced," then you know what? cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it. sure, he may have impregnated you against your will, violated your so-called boundaries, utterly shattered your sense of safety and self-worth, and shackled you for the rest of your life to a weight of fear, anger, grief, and shame, but you don't have any broken bones. not only do you not deserve any help from your government, you don't deserve to consider yourself a "victim," or consider the trauma you endured to be real rape, or as whoopi would say "rape-rape."

but why stop at rape victims? we should extend this tough love to all those babies whining about someone doing something they don't like. i mean literally, babies. only children who have suffered forcible abuse should receive any government aid. did your dad beat you in the face until your cheekbones turned to sand? congratulations, you are a victim and deserve to be taken to a safe shelter. did your mom lock you in a closet for 24 hours while whispering through the keyhole that she thinks you're worthless and wishes you were never born? well that's not abuse-abuse so stop being such a whiner.

boehner says that it's time for the government to roll up its sleeves and get to work, helping the american people. which means that instead of finding better, more effective ways to protect americans from crimes committed against them, we should redefine these crimes altogether. if you think about it, not only would we have less "victims" to take care of, we would technically lower the crime rate. O_O

boehner, you are a fucking genius.

dog v kong

yesterday, i bought bowie a kong toy. bowie has never really been big on toys, so I was pretty thrilled when he started to play with this kong. granted, i stuffed it full of hot dogs, but still, he goes at it for hours. i think his lack of interest in toys is a sign that he is not the brightest. i've noticed that at the dog park, the "smart" breeds love playing with toys. they fetch balls, toss donut toys into the air and paw at them so they roll around, and generally have lots of fun manipulating an interesting object. bowie runs. that is the only game he knows, and he thinks it's the tops. so when we take him to the dog park, he'll find someone to chase him and run. if they stop chasing him, which they almost always do, he gets sad. and then he stares intently at the other dogs playing fetch as if they're demonstrating some insanely complicated ritual. he has yet to decode it.

with this kong, he seems really committed to getting the hot dogs out, which isn't going to happen he grows fingers or shrinks into the size of a cockroach. what i like most is that it seems to be exercising his brain. i thought he would just gnaw on it and give up, but he keeps trying different things to get to the hot dogs. he's currently stabilizing it in a corner of the wall, and smushing his face against the tiny opening. such a cutie. he's having so much fun. then again, he could just be going mad. maybe he resents me for pretending to give him a hot dog when really i've just encased it in the ultimate bowie-proof shield. maybe i'm actually traumatizing him. O_O

whatever. i'll let him keep going. honestly, watching him freak out over this kong is a lot more entertaining than watching him sleep.