Mein Herz springt!

I'm currently back in school to see if I finally, after 8 years of having started a career, I am going to get any closer to a title. Of course for Business school, we have to take calculus, and entrepeneurship and whatnot, but also we have to take those classes that are pre requisites to fulfill but that nobody knows for sure the point of those 3 hours weekly in front of a teacher. For me this class is, or at least should be, Texas and US Constitution and politics.

It's more than a prerequisite. It is a reminder of the things I used to love and feel passionate about 8 long years ago. Politics, even if it is American politics, even if my teacher is obssesed with the Simpsons and keeps telling us this is a somewhat useless class, talking about democracy, and reading Max Weber, makes my heart jump.

I feel I might have betrayed myself a little by going into business, like i am robbing someone the oportunity of following his carreer and be a succesful person (but then again, that's a lot of bull, cause I'm not robbing ayone anything; this is a free country, even for me). In the end I will make something out of what I learn, be it accounting or political marketing, I know I won't just sit there and waste what is given to me in school, but I doubt my heart will spring as high when talking about budgets and managerial theory.



AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaa Should I go back!!??

Pooped out -- Horses

for some odd reason I keep getting spam on this entry. Although deleting spam is just a click, I wonder why is it that it is only this post the one being targeted???


potty mouth right there, but frankly, when have I cared? I've been a potty mouth ever since I started talking (ask my mom about). Any how, today it is totally worth it. I can say today with all truth that I have earned my money.

K is using me I know, he doesnt really care, as the older guy says, he is indeed an asshole; I shouldnt really follow his orders, but that's my thing, I like the assholes.



When I was young in Colombia I used to ride this mare called Medianoche or something. It was at a time when I wasnt really sure I would go on with the horseback riding, so I didn't own a horse, I borrowed them from other people for practice. The thing is, I could've picked any other animal in the stable, I always stuck to Medianoche... and she was the horse version of a royal asshole. Unlike little speckled Mateo or gentle Albatroz, Medianoche didnot give a flying f5ck about my directions, was terribly hardheaded and took all of my strength not to let her run amock in the arena. And still I liked her and picked her every week. Still I fed her carrots and apple and patted her behind. I respected her and obeyed her and I was glad every Sunday when I rode her, and I was also glad when I brought her back to the stable.
Granted, some months later, when I was totally infatuated with horse back riding, I was practicing in the open ring when Medianoche totally lost it and threw me to the floor. I can't remember exactly how it happened. I just know, one moment I'm on top of her, thinking how the stupid weather was going to ruin the whole practice, and the next one I'm beingkicked in the head and the arms by some crazy mare. Fortunately the only thing that broke was my helmet and, well, my pride. My arm had was covered in blue-green-black spots and everything hurt.

Now 15 years later, I dont ride horses any more. I'd love to, but even in Texas I'm far away from them (and gringo horses speak English- it's not the same). I dont ride horses, but I still like assholes, I just hope K doesn't throw me one day and break my pride.

Desde el nuevo apartamento

WE are here finally, three weeks since we moved and i'm still ajdusting to this new concept of shorter commutes and daylight out of my car. I love it, being here, second time I move in less than a year and with Matthias; cooking, chatting, listening to music, everything is a little newer, a little fresher here.

The other day while laying on the bed, it dawned on me that we are not in the "honeymoon" phase anymore. Now, that doesnt mean that i dont miss him when he travels, that i dont like to hug him at night when we sleep or kiss him goodbye when i head to work. Is just that i know now, this is for real. I am married. For real. with all his corkinesses and mine, and it works. I might not be able to make it come across in these lines, but to me this is amazing and less and less frightening.

Partners in crime... in a new apartment.

Who would have thought????

I cannot write today... i've written too much in my head about what's going on and the heartburn (and the heartache) is killing me. CC will help now:

Hynkel: I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an Emperor - that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone, if possible -- Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another; human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone.

The way of life can be free and beautiful.

But we have lost the way.

Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people.

To those who can hear me I say, "Do not despair." The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass and dictators die; and the power they took from the people will return to the people and so long as men die, liberty will never perish.

Soldiers: Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you, who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel; who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate; only the unloved hate, the unloved and the unnatural.

Soldiers: Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written, "the kingdom of God is within man" -- not one man, nor a group of men, but in all men, in you, you the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.

Then, in the name of democracy, let us use that power! Let us all unite!! Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie! They do not fulfill their promise; they never will. Dictators free themselves, but they enslave the people!! Now, let us fight to fulfill that promise!! Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.

Soldiers: In the name of democracy, let us all unite!!!


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hannah, can you hear me? Wherever you are, look up, Hannah. The clouds are lifting. The sun is breaking through. We are coming out of the darkness into the light. We are coming into a new world, a kindlier world, where men will rise above their hate, their greed and brutality.

Shootin' shit

Last weekend friends came over from Miami (they're Danish radicated in the sunshine state for now) and Matthias and I got in the mission of having a true clich'e kinda weekend for them. After picking them up really late from the airport (I mean, who flies to Houston using AA???) we woke up the next day, packed up a nice brunch and headed to Sean's --our army friend-- house. After 20 minutes of gun display and safety explanations, we were on our way to the Academy to buy ammo and then off to the shooting range. Here, an editor's note: I hate guns, they are a miserable display of human capacity and love for destruction, nice greased little machines that fascinate and kill at the same time.
Anyway, we spend around 200 dollars in bullets of all calibers, rode a good 40 minutes and prepared ourselves with the first rounds.
I guess I had held a gun when I was 17 and my grandpa showed me his unloaded and very old revolver. And here I was, shooting like a maniac with the smooth .22 (it's the girls favorite since it doesnt kick at all) trying the 45 --and hating it, and trying not to jam the sig-sauer.
It is a weird feeling for me to feel the hard metal in my hands. The powerful explosion, the smell of gunpowder and smoke and the tension in my arms for aiming the very heavy dirty Harry. And then THE BIG ONE: The M4 rifle, the same one that kill afganis and iraqis, that can throw grenades and descends from the ultra famous m16. All in all it was scary but in some way made me feel powerful... over what? Some piece of paper with a black silouhette? Well, what can I say, we all love that feeling no?

After I got it, I found it!

Hello people, although i kinda promissed myself I was going to write almost everyday, the last couple of days have been rather busy and frankly, have left me with out "bock" of doing anything.
One week after I got my work permit, I found a job. It's not my dream job, indeed there's things I rather do and that I'd change at this job. But I count my blessings and stop bitching about it, cause what I needed was to get out of the house and feel productive again. So there!
I guess I'll have a lot to write about and a lot of reasons to do it, hahaha, I'll try to keep my word.
But it feels so weird to have reached this point in life... i dont feel bad about it and I dont regret any decision made in the past (well one, but it has nothing to do with this, I should have never had that haircut....) but it's funny to see myself today.



Ok I'm tired and trying to make sense but let's put it this way i'm torn between the following quotes:
" wenn du nicht weisst, was dein Ziel ist, brauchst du dich nicht zu wundern, wenn du ganz woanders oder gar nicht ankommst."

OR

"wer etwas will, sucht Wege. WEr etwas nicht will, sucht Gruende"

So there.

I got It!!!

Yesterday, by chance and while I showed
Matthias how to check our status on the USCIS website, I found out that my temporary work permit had been aproved!!! Yeepi.
As I said before in some other post from January nobody knows really the joy and POM that a torch decorated notification can bring to the average immigrant in this country. And it was great, trust me, for a workoholic, coffee infused, very proud ant-meets-morlock like myself, the permission to work freely (even if it is temporary) means the world.
Means getting up early with a purpose and handing business cards again; means having to actually look for the time to blog and scrapbook and all that stuff; means feeling fully justified to receive foot massages from my husband.
I have to divert a little from the subject and just add one of my dear lists from beore (for those of you who dont know me too much, I use to keep lists of things that bother me, and today I feel like bringing back my old habits)

So for today: THINGS I HATE

• I hate to depend on papers and lawyers to make my day
• I hate to stay in bed till late in the morning I HATE IT
• I hate when I forget to turn off my coffee machine and the coffee burns all morning long
• I hate to be mistaken for a Mexican (nothing against Mexicans, I am just not one)
• I hate to meet Colombian newbies (new immigrants) who still need to impress me by telling me about the latest job in Bogota
• I hate that the same people keep tell me I lost my cachaca accent (like i miss it)
• I hate going to Chili's and freezing my butt off cause they cant keep the A/C at a normal temperature
• I hate when Americans/Europeans talk about Colombia as if they knew it only because they watched "the truth about killing Pablo" on the History Channel
• I hate when the same people always ask if the weather in Houston reminds me of my tropical country. Not ever, it was NEVER this hot and humid in Bogota.
• I hate when Americans, even well educated ones, cannot pronounce words like Dalí (they keep saying DAH-lee), Bog-OH-ta, and any word with "J", except for jalapeños.
• I hate people who still believe in the Mama Hotel, even if in every other aspect of their lives they seem to be pretty mature and grown up.
• And I REALLY hate when that same people judge others on their life accomplishments. Rule of Thumb: if your momma still pays for your bills, keep your mouth shut about other people's life choices and be friendly.
• I hate missing Law and Order because there's some golf tournament. You dont get between me and Jack McCoy!!!

Ok I'll leave for now, gotta get some lunch and back to work!

Robert Frost, it just came to mind while cleaning

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

TRUST

--Remembering my times as an aspiring Political Scientist--

A few years back (gosh, almost 6) I was majoring in Political Science in Colombia. One of the subjects that I liked the best was Democratic Theory, in which we analyzed why was democracy the so called “perfect” socio-political system. At the end of the course we concluded that it is not so “perfect” but rather the “least worst” of all the political systems throughout history, even when it also is very expensive to maintain (it takes a lot of effort and a lot of giving up from either side, government and society to make it work) and even harder to make it run smoothly. I was very interested with the thoughts of Francis Fukuyama, which at that time was at the hype of his fame, launching neoliberalist studies of the 09/11 conflict, the so called third wave and other subjects.
I am not a fan of neoliberalism, but what struck me as highly interesting was his definition of Social Capital, and how it was the key to achieve, if not Peace, at least a comprehensive and fair sociopolitical environment. Here is an excerpt on what is his definition of Social Capital:
I. What is Social Capital?
While social capital has been given a number of different definitions, many of them refer to manifestations of social capital rather than to social capital itself. The definition I will use in this paper is: social capital is an instantiated informal norm that promotes cooperation between two or more individuals. The norms that constitute social capital can range from a norm of reciprocity between two friends, all the way up to complex and elaborately articulated doctrines like Christianity or Confucianism. They must be instantiated in an actual human relationship: the norm of reciprocity exists in potential in my dealings with all people, but is actualized only in my dealings with my friends. By this definition, trust, networks, civil society, and the like which have been associated with social capital are all epiphenominal, arising as a result of social capital but not constituting social capital itself[1]
Later on we would discuss in class his whole theory about it, but in a nut shell (and paraphrasing my class notes from years past) what he proposed was basically that the social networking that makes up the social capital is the base for a better democracy. How to create/reinforce this network? Through communication and working from bottom up. Every time you talk to a friend, help a neighbor, create trust bonds with your co-workers, peers, clients, vendors, etc, you are contributing effectively in the creation of Social Capital. It had more to do with TRUST (in fact, “Trust” is the title of one of his books about the issue) than to be friends with everybody. And trust—he said and I agree—is built through a good communication, ethical communication.
All in all, that would help explain why is a country like Canada, Japan or even the United States more politically stable, let’s say even peaceful, than …errr Colombia. People here are more involved in their communities, care more about each other as a whole and to a certain extent respect each other’s boundaries. Granted, CSI and Law and Order show us a very violent picture of this same society I am praising, but to be honest, if the subject is worth making a TV show and people still get shocked by it, it is because it is unusual.
I love my country and I am very proud of being Colombian, but the truth is from day one, you learn to trust only your family and your very close friends. For some reason (maybe it is historical, we are after all unwanted children of rejected Spaniards and conquered Indians) we don’t trust ourselves much less other people and are always in survival mode. Try to get as much as you can, fast and don’t look back. There is no way to build a coherent society in this way, and trying to stay in the communication theme, this atmosphere is quite clear in the way we interact and communicate within ourselves. Our verbal oral communication ranges from very close and personal, even when we don’t know a person, to suddenly very cold and formal with our closest ones. It is incoherent and obscure, better said, confusing. Try listening to a Colombian student in a presentation (hehehe I hope I can fight this stereotype) instead of going to the point, we go around in circles and hope that the audience somehow will get the message. If not… dumm gelaufen, too bad. If I was looking for a thesis for my Political Science degree, I’d probably start off with “Verbal and nonverbal misconstructions of the Colombian society: how “la Violencia[2]” started in our words
[1] Fukuyama, Francis http://www.imf.org/external/pubs/ft/seminar/1999/reforms/fukuyama.htm August 28, 2006
[2] La Violencia is the most memorable violent period in the Colombian recent history. It spanned from the late 40’s into the fifties and was the precursor of the modern day FARC and ELN guerrillas.

Everything's fake

Reality shows, celebreality, swap, move up, buff up, re create, re arrange, jazz it up, pizzazz. Everything is fake here, an illusion and you have to play their game. It's not bad if you are into it, at least you feel the hype of discovering that shoe on sale, a matching chair or the perfect duvet.
It's a color palette, a hair style, an overhauling of your whole life. Everything has to be perfect, but perfection will only last till next season. Down the catwalk goes our life in display, who's got the most picture perfect depiction of a fantasy, of a collection. After an hour of this overdose of perfection you'll hopefully come to realize:

You are not perfect, you will never be
You have no sense of style but your own and things are tasteful and elegant if YOU think they are
You are the owner of your taste and functionality.
You cannot please everybody
The new rebellion, the new revolution is to send them all to hell with their color satches and clever arrangements, graba a book and sip your normal coffee. Dont fall under the spell of the label... DO NOT. Walk under your own shadow, follow your beat, even if it's the beat of a tacky country song or and old bolero.
Label is the prison, perfection is the yoke, the details are choking and covering the eyes of men: we can't see the forrest, some bargain priced, designer style trees are standing in the way.
FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!!!