Can we please just have an honest conversation about intolerance?

          I am not going to go into all of the world's problems in a few paragraphs. Let's face it, I'm way to wordy for that. But I will discuss one issue that shouldn't be allowed to be ignored any longer. It should never have been ignored in the first place. At any time. Period. Sadly, I don't have much faith that we as a country or for that matter as a human race (as it is everywhere in one form or another) will truly face it head on. Honestly. Nakedly. For that, is the only way, that we have a chance at moving on and making things better.
          It is not just the recent shooting at the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, S.C. Nor is it only about all the recent coverage of police brutality/killings of unarmed black men and women. This is about all of the racism, ignorance, and hatred that Afro-Americans have to endure on a daily basis. This is also about all the feelings that come with these things.
          Let me start with this. I have been lucky. I am alive. I am independent. I am white. It's true I have the misfortune of being born a woman in a man's world and I have an invisible disease (epilepsy), but these things allow me only to glimpse the pain of others. I have privileges. I don't  want them, but they are there. I cannot deny, nor should I deny having them. To pretend that I don't have an automatic leg up in life due to my race would be not only disrespectful but stupid.
          To willfully ignore the reality that surrounds us is self-serving at best. Blissful ignorance of your own personal woes is your own choice. Have at it. But actively ignoring the woes of the culture you live in, the country you live in, the earth you live on is a crime. Yes. A crime.
          I have wondered innumerable times, how it is, that an adult can possibly not see people being treated differently due to their race. When I go through my daily life, the only conclusion I can come to, is if a person does not see racism it is because they do not want to see it, nor accept any guilt or culpability that might come along with that. But from what I see every single day, racism is still staring us all in the face.
          I see racism on the bus. In the corner stores. I see racism while walking in the street and on T.V. I've seen racism in the workplace. It is all around us if you would take a moment to look. It is not always overt. And other times, so overt that churches are burned.
          Now I can only guess at some of the feelings that come with a life that is the object of such irrational intolerance (And I welcome anyone to share their thoughts- racist sentiments will be deleted). I will, however, not do anyone the injustice of speaking for them. I have too much respect for people to dishonour them by putting words in their mouths.
          So ask yourself these questions. When you see someone being belittled due to their race, do you ever speak up? When you see only a few open seats on the bus, do you always try to sit next to a person of the same colour as yourself? When racist jokes are made in a social gathering, do you ever say, "Hey, that's not funny.".....If you do even one of these things, I'm glad. It's a good start. If you never do, why not?


kimbersfrog

Be and/or Do what moves you... but .....

          I have a strong belief in the idea that you should do or be anything you want in life. I have, however, found over the years, there may be a few exceptions. Not that you can't be said thing (cook, artist, dentist, scientist, barista, etc.), but there are 2 important things that you probably should consider first. Please.
          1) If you refuse to learn how to do the things you need to do to fulfil this dream (hobby, way of life, or whatever), then maybe it's time to try something else. It's possible that you aren't that into it.
          2) If your ineptitude affects others in a constant and unfortunate way- that might be a clue that it's time to find another interest or go it alone. I mean really, you must have more than one dream right?
          Now that I've given you my long, unsolicited disclaimer, I will begin the story (of sorts). Mind you, I am picking a job that I know a good deal about to be sure that I can make my point by being accurate, honest and just. It is possible you will encounter a wee bit of attitude whilst reading... deal with it.
          Framing. Picture framing to be exact. It is a skill to be sure.  Many of the skills can be learned reasonably easily. If you are willing. Don't forget the customer service aspect. Customer service is an equally important part of the job. So, it is important to like people (or at the very least fake it with spirit and a smile!). And while it is not necessary to be an artist, it would be helpful to have a little sense of colour and design. Creativity is a bonus but sadly cannot be taught.
          Never in a million years would I tell anyone that they should have to know anything or everything about framing before you start. But if you really want to do it, please... no I'm begging you.... PLEASE, learn. Learn as much as you can. Ask questions. If you are new to it or aren't naturally good at it and refuse to learn or ask how to do things, you will negatively affect your boss, co-workers, the business, and your customers. Not fair.
          I've jotted down a few things to keep in mind if you are interested in framing (and I'm sure these could be translated to other fields) but aren't sure if it's the thing for you....

            1) If you can't use a ruler and/or count in fractions, you may want to seriously reconsider.
            2) If you can't do simple maths, you might want to think again. (Think again, I was just being polite)
            3) If you only enjoy being the boss and yet you are working FOR someone... well, all I can say is suck it up or get out!
            4) If you can't make a good frame and won't take advice from people who can... why are you still thinking that this is your dream? Pride isn't always a good thing.
            5) If you don't innately understand that tools and machinery need upkeep.... you might just want to walk away before you cost someone or yourself a whole lot of money. (You know... in replacements.)
            6) If you can only make relatively good choices in the design part of framing about 50% of the time.... take a class or just stop wasting your time.
            7) If you are too weak or in too much pain to do the actual job AND refuse to push through it,  then this might not be as important to you as you once thought.

          I think that covers it. More or less. And you should know that I am not blowing hot air here. Bear in mind that I too, have had (and probably will in the future) dreams and goals that weren't for me. Yes, it is true that for many years, I had a dream to one day be able to come home from work and strum the guitar whilst singing. (scary but true!) I played for two years (if you want to call it playing). I tried surprisingly but assuredly exceptionally hard BUT I got steadily worse. Finally I admitted to myself that even if  I did have the capability within myself (which I am not at all sure I did or do), I was not inclined to continue torturing myself. And I probably shouldn't torture my neighbours either.
          I have also had a slow burning fire within to become a neurosurgeon. You can. Stop. Laughing now. Ever since I found that I had epilepsy, this has been something I have yearned to do. The brain is fascinating. Every new thing I learn about it continues to astound me. But given my predisposition to loose control of my muscles (small or large scale), I think it would be irresponsible to operate on anyone's brain. So I just make it one of my hobbies to learn as much as I can about it.
          And those are just two. However I have realized some of my dreams. And I hope to accomplish more. Some I might find aren't within my capacity. Some I might find that I liked the idea more than the actual thing itself. And others I will succeed- even if it's through pure determination and stubbornness. So as you can see, I am not simply expostulating for the sake of it.
          I believe the most important things are: know yourself, dream big, try hard, and don't be too proud to realize you need to move on to something else you've always wanted to do!

 kimbersfrog

Esperando a Papá Noel

(Aviso: Esta es mi primera historia en Castellaño. No sé mucho sobre la punctuación. Espero que puedas disfrutar de la historia a pesar de los errores!!! Obviamente, todavía trabajo en mi gramática también. Sientate libre que de corregirme- con gramática, puntuación, o frases!)


          Cuando mi hermana y yo éramos pequeñas, siempre estábamos muy ilusionadas sobre Papá Noel. Cuando yo tenía 8 años y mi hermana 6, pasamos una noche buena diferente a todas las otras.
          Aunque mis padres nos permitían que nos quedaramos leventadas hasta más tarde de lo normal para la noche buena, todavía nos tenían que mandar a dormir (es cierto, a fin de cuentas Papá Noel viene solamente si no le ves, ¿sí o no?).
          Y por supuesto, no podíamos dormir debido al entusiasmo de esa noche, Papá Noel, Navidad, y todo. Y así mi hermana, con mucha discreción se vino sigilosamente a mi habitación.
          Ese fue el sitio en el cual mi historia ocurrió: no recuerdo muchas de los detalles de aquella noche, principalmente recuerdo las emociones. Pero había una cosa la cual recuerdo (y mi hermana también) perfectamente. Con cualquiera cosa nos entreteníamos, también jugábamos a juegos de adivinanzas.
          Fui yo quien causó todo; ataques de risa, el olor, y finalmente el fin de la noche. Sí fue mi culpa. Lo confieso, aunque este momento no es un secreto para nadie!
          Ah...¿queréis saber lo que pasó? Vale... vamos. Como os he dicho, mi hermana y yo estábamos esperando a Papá Noel. ¡Tal vez, pudiéramos verle fugazmente! Por lo menos podíamos jugar con nuestros pensamientos hacia Papá Noel, la nieve, Navidad y todo pasó del entusiasmo al agotamiento.
          Así que jugábamos a juegos de adivinar. Me tocaba a mi. Elegí una imitación de Papá Noel (lo sé, no fue mi momento más creativo... ¡pero nadie es perfecto!). Después de muchas gesticulaciones con mis manos, las cuales no recibíeron respuestas correctas de mi hermana, decidí que intentaría una táctica diferente.
          No podía imaginar que la decisión de utilizar mi cuerpo entero en lugar de solo mis manos, se convertiría en tan duradera historia! Para parecer Papá Noel, ponía una mano en mi estomago y la otra en mi cadera. Llevaba un sombrero y sujetaba un bolí entre mis dientes a semejanza de la pipa de Papá Noel. ¿Boba? Sí, pero aún no ha llegado la mejor parte de la historia.
          Entonces, flexionaba mis piernas mientras estaba haciendo la mímica las palabras: "Oh, Oh, Oh." ¿No parece gracioso, eh? extraño, tal vez, y quizás divertido, ¿pero gracioso? Bueno...
          Aquí viene el resto.... cada vez que imitaba un "Oh" también mis rodillas se doblaban y cada vez que esto ocurría también me salía un pedo. Tres "Ohs", tres flexiones, tres pedos.
          Eso fue suficiente para hacer que mi hermana y yo riéramos sin control. Sinceramente, intentábamos parar la risa pero no nos funcionó. Al principio nos salían risas temblorosas y mudas... pero no fue posible que mantuviéramos el control (o algo como esto). ¿Porque? Debido al olor el cual seguía... pues... ¿debería decir?..... incomodo. Eh, la verdad... fueron horribles.... no asguerosos. Así no podíamos mantener nuestro silencio nunca más. Eso fue la manera en la cual mis padres nos pillaron. Fin de la noche. ¡Pero lo que vale la pena, son aquellos momentos!

 kimbersfrog

Gracias a mi profesora de castellaño (para su ayuda y su paciencia con mis preguntas!) y gracias a Joan (para escuchando cuando yo la estaba leyendo- otra vez y otra vez!)
 

Guapa Lady.....

          We have neighbors as everyone does. This is an area that actually acts like a neighborhood. People talk to each other. They even say, "Hi!" or stop to chat in town, in the market, etc. The last actions seem almost unthinkable or at least things to be dreaded in many of the places I have lived. I for one, enjoy it. I also dread it.
          Most often I actually look forward to it. I like people. I want to practice Spanish. I really adore my boyfriend's family (they are in this neck of the woods as well), and honestly, I'm nosey. I admit it. People fascinate me. I can hear 10 different versions of the same story and be equally intrigued, more so even. What?
          The occasions I hope to avoid are few. But they happen. One: if in a contemplative mood, I might just want to enjoy my thoughts whether it's my trip to the market or at home. Two: if I am stressed and/or in a hurry, I generally don't see anyone nor do I necessarily want to. Then I feel horribly rude when someone says something RIGHT as I pass by (and usually scares the crap out of me!). A close knit community has it's ups and downs like anything else. 
          Still, I enjoy my new stomping grounds and the people in it. Everyone with their own definite personality. That brings me to the point. There is one particular neighbor we have, Guapa Lady. I have two reasons for calling her this. First, I don't know her name. Second, she always calls me or someone else gaupa or guapo. Always. Repeatedly. 
          She invariably has a smile on her face when she greets you. Once the chatting begins, her intermittent laughter follows without fail. And of course she must call you guapa (or guapo) at least five times within every ten minute interval. Let's not forget that she will also refer to either your love, a family member, a friend of yours, or all of them as guapa as well. At least a few times. She is truly sweet. She hugs. She kisses. She leans in really close and then laughs herself to a normal distance away. But if you think she will talk herself out... you must be deluded. The woman can talk. And enjoys it. And frankly, I enjoy her enjoying it!
          Today, I was waiting outside for a potential student. This is not my normal habit, but as I am so absolutely horrible with Spanish on the phone I made a quick decision. I said I would wait outside. Low and behold, who walked by while I was lazily taking in the sun waiting for my student? Guapa Lady. 
          So, as I am sure you can imagine we started to chat. And chat. Finally two guys came and rang the bell next door, but I heard my name. I told Guapa Lady that these were the students I was waiting for. "Okay okay," was her reply, along with a pat on the arm.
          I went over and introduced myself, only to find Guapa Lady right behind me. True. She started talking to them, asking them what they wanted. Making jokes about the hairstyle that one of them had. Calling me guapa, but not to think anything because I have a boyfriend. He's guapo too. I just kept thinking, "Crap, I am not going to get the job!" Finally, she left as her husband made it known that he was still waiting for her (30 minutes later). The two guys (student and friend/translator) and I went next to the building to discuss the details of class; level of English, hours, days, etc.
          Before I could even say, "How many hours do you want?" Guapa Lady was already back. I didn't even see her coming, which is shocking really. My guess, she doesn't actually touch the ground when she walks. She started chatting again. The same, his hair, all of us were guapa, me especially, and let's not forget my boyfriend and that I'm taken (at one point the student did reply that he had a muy guapa girlfriend also!). Luckily these guys were laughing with her, and were quite engaged in the conversation. I felt like I was in one of those embarrassing family situations you just can't get out of. Weird right?
          The topics changed from her granddaughter and language, to hair again, and guapaness again. Finally after one last heads up from her hubby and a sweet compliment from my potential student (that I could swear put a bounce in her step), she was off. Talking as she went.
           In my head, all I could think was, "ahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!" But she was so charming, and so nice. Apparently, not I am not just living in a neighborhood. I am not just idly watching the folks talking and connecting with each other in that special way that only an openhearted community brought together by sheer proximity can do. Now I am a part of that clan. I am still on the fringe and possibly always will be. Even so, it's pretty neat. My hat's off to you, Guapa Lady.

kimbersfrog


    Definition: guapa/guapo- cute, pretty, handsome 
                                             (a man is guapo; a woman is guapa)
                      muy- very
                         

White Christmas?

           As a kid, every year I went to bed on Christmas Eve hoping for snow. I used to wish so hard, I almost believed that I could will it to happen. Almost. As you can imagine, I had to split my wishes. Seriously, there was also the hope and excitement of  "mistakenly" seeing Santa, whilst going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. What?? It was worth the risk of no presents. I would rather have met Santa than gotten presents. Good thing I didn't tell my mom that, she might have called. That's right, she has a direct line! Heh, heh.
          Sliding back to snow. I would wake up, early, (duh) and before I even left my room, I would check for snow. Apparently I've always been a little 'hallmark'. Deal with it. I did this even if there was already snow on the ground Christmas Eve. I had to know if there was snow over night. I think it was more important than knowing if he ate the cookies, drank the milk, and gave the carrots to the deer. Don't get me wrong... had he not eaten, drank, and fed the deer, I probably would have been very worried about him, if not a little mad. Just sayin'.
           My Christmas' have always been good. I've been lucky. I love my family and I enjoy being with them at Christmastime. I know not everyone is technically family there, but to me everyone I see is my family. As the day goes on, more and more people come. And more and more dogs. Sometimes a new member is brought in- you know the new special someone in life. That is ALWAYS fun! Possibly not for him or her, but for the rest of us, it's great! Heh, heh. 
          My favourite parts are the stockings, watching other people open their gifts, and end of the night. Oh yeah... and the mashed potatoes with gravy. Best ever. The stockings are extra personal and in some ways especially thoughtful. Right, and often funny. The expressions on everyone's faces when they open their gifts are wonderful and candid. And the party after dinner, is relaxed, and full of the spirit of Santa.... he must leave some magic dust around. The magic that creates the mashed potatoes and gravy is purely mom's and dad's. Thanks guys. Still, with all this.... I always want snow. Why? 
           Is it possible I have some weird perversion for snow? Yes. But I don't think so. I am not upset if it doesn't snow. I am just extra excited if it does (that is not what I meant... I'm talking about snow people!). That is why this year I am a little disheartened that there is  scarce chance of snow here. I am in Spain. Not only is it not snowing in the Pyrenees, but I'm in Barcelona, by the beach. Not going to happen. Yet, I keep having a dream that I wake up Christmas morning and low and behold, there is snow on the beach! Now, I am a realist, but I gladly and sadly am also a dreamer. So, I know it will not snow. Nevertheless I hold on to the smallest teeniest weeniest ounce of hope that I can manage. Please, let some freak of nature make it snow. Or an unnatural, whimsical storm might work.
          This Christmas will be decidedly strange for me. I only want three very basic things for Christmas: snow, skype to work, and to magically be able to communicate brilliantly with my boyfriend's family (at least for the day). Too much? Possibly. Well, here's to hoping. The snow alone might make my day.
          So to everyone this holiday season... whether you celebrate Christmas or not, if you are an X-mas hater or lover, or if you just don't care one way or the other.... have some good times during the season. And may your wishes come true. Hopefully, you may have some laughs along the way.


kimbersfrog

Es lo que hay....

          Loosely translated: "It is what it is." I've learned many Spanish words since I have been here (and forgotten many). I have learned a lot of grammar (not that it is always evident in my speech, but no one's perfect). I have also learned quite a few expressions.
          Idioms are fun. They are interesting. I even get a little excited when I learn them (yes I know I'm a dork). I try to think of different situations I could use them in. Then I hope that a circumstance will properly present itself in which I can throw my freshly learned rhetoric into the conversation virtually unnoticed. 
          Ohhhh yes, if I do it right, no one will even notice. On the other hand, if I do it wrong, I could insult people. No, since it's me we're talking about here, I could probably inadvertently shame, abuse, snub, taunt, or proposition someone. Or even a group. Yeah, that's what she said! 
          The thing about colloquialisms is if you have the connotation just a hair off it can make a world of difference. Think about it. Let's say you just throw, "we're all in the same boat" into a conversation without a full grasp of its meaning. If you really were in the same general circumstances, then you just got lucky. Everyone is happy (well, no one's upset with you). But what if you had no hurdles to bear (you're "sittin' pretty" as it were), whilst everyone else you were talking to did? Maybe you understood the basic idea of the phrase, but thought it was more of a thing to say to empathize and let people know you were there for them. Your meaning is still good natured. However you would come off as an ass.
          This I worry about. Regularly.
          Lucky for me, along with my fear and moments of freezing (becoming mute suddenly- it's lovely, really), also comes that wonderful ability to embarrass myself with reckless abandon! This can actually help me. I'll say it again, lucky me! The muscles from my face down to my toes work with and against each other with a force I could never muster on purpose (I am sure it's attractive, not!). My body has the ability to express what is lacking in my Spanberish (heh,heh).
          So in addition to learning vocabulary, verb tenses, and grammar (which my brain insists on twisting like tape balls), I am learning little phrases here and there. The type that people use on a regular basis. The same way we use, "Of course," or "Seriously?" or "Gimme a break!" and so on. There are some things we say that are also said here. Love that!!! But there are other things that are so much a part of my suitcase full of expressions I don't know exactly what to say instead. Despite this, I press on. Heh, heh.
          Unfortunately once I find one that is so wonderful and perfect that I can't wait to use it..... I find I never have a chance to. I don't know why. It just seems to be my luck. I rarely have the chance to go hog wild and blurt out one of those bad babies! Heh, heh. One day. That's what I keep telling myself. One day.
          I believe I should just start saying them to myself while I am cleaning, shopping, cooking and the like. I've already started with 'joder' (under my breath of course, heh,heh). I need to get used to saying things like, "Por supuesto," or "En serio?!" and so on. For the moment, I keep studying, and am trying to fit these phrases into my Spanish thoughts (when I have them- which is freakishly often). And all I can say about my slow learning curve, embarrassing expressions, dorky enjoyment of language, and awkwardness here in general.... is: es lo que hay. My new favourite expression!

kimbersfrog




  

The germ freak inside....

          I should begin with a brief history. My father comes from a family that implanted the fear of germs into their heads. If this is what you grow up with, many things can seem gross and washing your hands a lot might be the least of your cleaning issues. My mother on the other hand, came from a household of the opposite mind.
          The example that best describes it is this: Whilst my mother finished up her last semester in college, my father lived with her parents. He really didn't want my grandmother making him lunch everyday (even if he couldn't cook a bit), because she and my grandfather were being so good to him. So at some point in the first two weeks he decided it was time to start making some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Oooo yeah! This my friends is quite a sacrifice, I will tell you. However this is not about my dad being a fair man. He got all the ingredients (so many there were, heh), but could not find the jelly. He asked my grandmother. She grabbed it out of the fridge. He opened it and at once noticed the mold. Almost as soon as he started the sentence ("Ummmm, there's some mold on this..."), my grandmother grabbed the jar. She said, "Let me see that." Then she got a knife, scraped it out, and promptly handed it back to him, saying, "There you go, good as new!" My father left horrified with nothing to do but eat it out of pure politeness. And probably avoid all peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in that house for a while.
          All my life I have had a mix of these two things. It is a good balance. I have however not gone untouched by the 'germ crazy'. I am definitely not a moldy food eater. It is a categorical fact that I wash my hands much too often. And what goes on in my head concerning germs is the most embarrassing and ridiculous germ crazy of all. That is what this is about.
          I was with my boyfriend on the beach the other night taking photos. I decided just to enjoy the fresh air, the sound of the waves, and watching his cute ass take photos from time to time (instead of taking any photos of my own). We did have to find a good spot to put his camera on first. He was playing with light and time for these specific photos. From this spot though what he would really need is a tripod. Neither of us has one. What he decided on was a garbage can. Great.
          He has no germs issues. In fact, when I am out and about and can not wash my hands, I don't worry about germs either. Okay it might cross my mind, but then it's gone. I think that's just a survival skill I've learned over years of public transport, planes, just living life. But then as I watched him set up my attention was monopolized, not by the sea, the sand or even his cute patootie.... but by the garbage can and the amount of it that was coming in contact with my boyfriend's clothes and hands. It's making me cringe now... a week later. Eeeek.
          I tried (repeatedly) to reason with myself. It's okay. No problem. I'm not touching it. But the other thoughts came in. And these thoughts are the killers. I can't even believe I'm sharing them. They go as follows..... 
           He will sit on the couch when we get home at some point. The couch I share with him. Will he wash his hands before making dinner? Is he going to touch my face when he kisses me? When he hugs me all my clothes will get garbageness on them. And so on.
           A bit irrational? Yes. Extreme? I would say so. So I kept telling myself, 'Just don't say anything when you get inside. Get over it . 'Noooo, problem. Right? All I had to do was use the tried and true method of mind over matter.... right? Right. 
          Is this what I did? Well, I tried. Vigorously. In my mind. But the nagging, no, gnawing, growing stress of the gross out factor and spreading of the germs all over the house overwhelmed me.
          I think what pushed me over the edge was when my sweet boyfriend came over and gave me a hug and kiss (with hands on face, by the way). What's worse, he was making sure I wasn't bored or too alone. He was being thoughtful and loving. I knew that. Nevertheless, all I could think about was the germs. Clearly I have a problem.
          Sadly, I didn't even make it the 2 minute walk home before I told him to make sure to wash his hands before making dinner. I did point out that I knew I was nuts. He agreed. I changed my outer layer of clothes when we got home. Luckily he did too, he favors pajamas at night... YAY for me! (Was that too enthusiastic?)
          My point? I don't remember. However, if you have anything strange and pervasive that invades your thoughts.... work on it. I'm still trying. Still I do think I will forever avoid moldy food. Just sayin'.

kimbersfrog