tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4235384268897122842024-03-13T06:26:22.669-07:00Casta ZeroA multicultural, non pretentious view of the things learned so far and daily events,sometimes anonymous, that mark our path...only if we dare to have a fresh start.
///Una vista multicultural y sin pretenciones de las cosas aprendidas hasta ahora y de los eventos cotidianos, a veces anonimos, que marcan el camino...solo si nos atrevemos a empezar de cero.OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.comBlogger121125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-46523099260055096532013-03-17T11:28:00.000-07:002013-03-17T11:28:50.155-07:00Sláinte!! In an Irish state of mind<span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> It has been a while... again. I hope I've been gone but not forgotten. The legendary Irish in me gets pretty green today. It feels real eventhough we can't prove it. It must be immigrant empathy plus cultural similarities uprising. At the end, if we are all together in this fight called life... We might as well do it like the pros.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b><i>"Irish diplomacy: the art of telling people to go to hell in such a way that they ask for directions, and look forward to the trip" Winston Churchill</i></b></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Originally published for St Pat's day 2010:</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">“You don’t have to be Irish to be one on St. Paddy’s day…” Isn’t that a catchy phrase? But why do we like to feel Irish? At first I thought, it has to be the alcohol infused euphoria of celebrating with green colors, tons of beer, music and friends. After two years in a row of hosting a St.Patrick’s day party, I thought that was my case.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This will be the first year after two “go-green, drink free, have fun” bashes, that I have the time to think about what makes me feel Irish, even though I am not (and for the record, it has been a family urban legend since I can recall, our Irish inheritance that is).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">This year I am away, alone, working, after two extremely intense weeks full of traveling, life-changing events and deep feelings. Thinking about the luck of the Irish, the Irish –Celtic rock and folk music I love so much and the energy those tunes bring me; my restless Irish terrier always ready to play and up for some hugs; Boston and the Red Sox (and how close we are for opening season!), of the Irish pubs and their live music, Celtic dances, stout beer and sharp cheddar. Remembering the sad movies and books about how difficult life has been for the Irish, forcing them to migrate away from their own country and make their own luck, but staying together and keeping the faith. Surfing all those mental images I have of the feisty Irishman, full of courage, pride, tradition, loyalty and passion, never giving up, always up for more, ready for the next fight. Not always right, but with the conviction of their own ideals that makes them strong.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">That is my idea of being Irish, that’s what makes me feel like one: the fact that I want to fight for what I want and enjoy every minute of it, to keep up with the challenges every day bring, to never let go and recover fast from the falls, because I don’t want to waste my life making plans for when the time is right. Feel happy even with the smallest things, only because they make me smile; never to ease my passionate mind but always slow down to aim right. Trust in my instincts, follow my heart and keep the faith. Not to be afraid of love, express it, share it and let it flow back. That’s the spirit I want to have. That’s what I want to be… to always remember, to never forget…that it’s all up to me.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Happy St. Patrick ’s Day!</span>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-20491192765848444502012-07-19T09:19:00.000-07:002012-07-19T09:19:45.067-07:00Macaroon Rain<i>Paris, France, summer of 2011</i><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NcN2GcYEiow/UAdPnMcLa6I/AAAAAAAAAWw/KtjEkXQYJuo/s1600/DSC_1063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NcN2GcYEiow/UAdPnMcLa6I/AAAAAAAAAWw/KtjEkXQYJuo/s320/DSC_1063.JPG" width="320" /></a>C’mon, hurry up! It’s
almost 5 o clock and I’m sure they’re going to close soon. This was the cry of a desperate person. A
woman in need. A hard working
professional that had no time to waste.
We gotta get them, or else… this
was war…<o:p></o:p></div>
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My first cousin, more
like my little sister I should say, came with me to one of my business trips,
to nowhere else but Paris. Day after day
I woke up early, got ready for work, and she stayed in, licking her wounds,
sleeping over her past. Waiting for me to go out and discover together new
places and stories, taking pictures – both mental and digital- of a city that
had so much to offer. After a full week of bonding, laughing, weeping, spending
long nights not really sleeping but holding real deep conversations, we knew
that we will remember this week forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What is Paris if not a
gourmet extravaganza of all sorts? Wine
by the bottle? Check! Croque monsieur on
demand? Check! Grand Marnier soufflé? You bet! Every day a new restaurant or
café, Walking off the calories and sucking in the love. It was a week that
tasted like a life time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Right around the
corner from our hotel in gorgeous St Honoré, there was a little jewel – a
Pierre Hermé Macaroon shop… for those who are not familiar with the concept, a
macaroon is a French (some say British actually) biscuit that is soft as a cloud
and smooth as an angel (like I’ve ever tasted or touched an angel or a cloud,
right?). Anyway, in this place, they have the most amazing macaroons not only
for the perfect crispy yet melting in your mouth meringue, bright multi color
array of round marvels, but for the unique fillings: from classic pistachio to
sweet rose petal, green tea, jasmine, passion fruit & chocolate, lavender,
coffee, guava, Tahitian vanilla. I’ve
tasted them once, my cousin bought a sampler box as a midnight snack and then I
was hooked. We got to buy a box for the folks back home (ok fine! And for us right here).<o:p></o:p></div>
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Friday afternoon of
our last day in town… too many things to do, too little time! Left the office and got to the room. Cousin
was back from her shopping spree – the bags around gave the room the look of a
Harper’s bazaar photo shoot. I’ve changed my working clothes, took her by the
hand and left the place like there was no tomorrow (because there wasn’t for us
in Paris!). Once we arrived to the hotel front door, there it was: a super gray
sky and a super heavy storm pounding the sidewalk like bullets. Oh my, what are
we going to do???? The front door bellman told us: Mademoiselles, you wait,
raining much, you wet (maybe his English wasn’t that bad, but that was all I
could hear between my desperation and the sound of city rain). I took a deep
breath, along with a glance at my watch, and made up my mind: Do you have
umbrellas, monsieur? We are taking off! You sure, madam? Just wait and it will
slow down… yes, I AM SURE! The macaroon place was not going to shut its doors on
me!! So there we went, one big umbrella for each other, me taking the lead and
cousin walking as fast as she could to catch up with yours truly – little
frantic me, short as I can be but determined as much – power walking thru the
curtain of Parisian water falling from a
crying Napoleonic sky. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It was only two blocks
from the hotel indeed… two LONG, WET blocks looking like distance looks like in
dreams; the faster we walked the further it went. I never looked back, I was
sure cousin was right behind… it never occurred to me how this rushing thru the
rain holding a huge umbrella was hysterical for the viewers, especially for the
one in front row (yes, cousin back there). Every step I took, bouncing the huge
cover up I was holding with all my strength, she was getting twice as wet: once
from the rain, twice from the water flowing from my umbrella!! My little feet were soaked of course, and that
was making me even more frantic. I was moving my short legs faster by the
minute and the huge umbrella was covering pretty much my whole self – it was
like looking at a video game, I was the Super Mario Bro’s mushroom rushing thru
one of their strange world being chased by a carnivorous flower. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally, we arrived!
Pierre Hermé was still open, we pushed the door so hard it hit the wall and got
in dripping and laughing… crying-laughing actually… do you know the
feeling? It took us a good full minute
to realize that the nice French employees were there, observing these crazy
foreigners in awe. After recovering from
the laughter attack, 5 minutes tops, we started to explain ourselves, to
justify our desperate journey in the rain, perhaps looking for a slight sign of
empathy, when suddenly… the rain… magically… STOPED!!! Just like that, not even
slowed down, oh no. The rain was gone. Gray clouds opened up to a crispy clean
almost sunny afternoon. “This is Paris in the summer, madam” they said… this is
how stupid must look like in French, I thought.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Macaroons</span> we bought,
oh yes. A box for here and some more for the go. Wet pants and soaking flats
made me feel super uncomfortable. But it was totally worth it. From that day
on, cousin and I developed an intense love for sweet treats, a huge need for
accomplishment, and above all, a superior sense of urgency for the things that
matter the most: the small, crazy,
unplanned things that make you laugh your guts out, the ones that create
stories, those small details that make life worth living.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>To my beautiful Paola, on our Paris trip's first anniversary (almost!) </i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love you to hell and back, and that's far!!</td></tr>
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</div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-13255315196773050152012-07-04T07:37:00.000-07:002012-07-04T07:40:16.828-07:00Oldie but goodie...freedom has no expiration date<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CHbk0vAq0FQ/T_RQX2TuJXI/AAAAAAAAAWk/NmbMDim0RWQ/s1600/fireworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" sca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CHbk0vAq0FQ/T_RQX2TuJXI/AAAAAAAAAWk/NmbMDim0RWQ/s320/fireworks.jpg" width="293" /></a></div>
<em>July 4th, 2012</em><br />
<br />
"Freedom makes a huge requirement of every human being. With freedom comes responsibility. For the person who is unwilling to grow up, the person who does not want to carry is own weight, this is a frightening prospect. " Eleanor Roosevelt<br />
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"Money won't create success, the freedom to make it will." Nelson Mandela<br />
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"If society fits you comfortably enough, you call it freedom." Robert Frost<br />
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"Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free." Jim Morrison<br />
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"When people talk of the freedom of writing, speaking or thinking I cannot choose but laugh. No such thing ever existed. No such thing now exists; but I hope it will exist. But it must be hundreds of years after you and I shall write and <span style="background-color: white;">speak</span> no more." John Adams<br />
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<em><span style="background-color: white;"><strong>...............THE TIME IS NOW!!</strong></span></em><br />
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<em><strong>America for the Americans - originally posted on July 4th, 2010</strong></em><br />
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Independence Day is a colorful holiday, summer time and fireworks, barbeques and lemonade (or beer). A day to remember we live in the land of the free home of the brave. To feel proud of being part of a great machinery of citizens that make this place the land of opportunities, a place where the dreams are possible and where hard work, honesty and spirit counts.<br />
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The 13 American colonies declared its independence from the British Empire back in 1776, in a document written mainly by Thomas Jefferson and John Adams and with the main objective, besides stating the obvious separation from England, to ensure "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with inalienable rights," and "that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed." Equal. That is one strong word.<br />
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The United States of America is a country built mainly by immigrants. People from all around the world were welcomed to settle in a country in need for inexpensive labor force and offering hope for those getting away from hunger, religious persecution and political instability. European immigrants mainly from Ireland, Germany, Italy and Poland along with millions of Afro-Americans already in the country during colonial times started it all. Diversity in all senses: creed, ethnicity, culture, language. Asia made its great contribution of people along with Mexican agriculture workers. Scandinavians were lure to the other side of the Atlantic by the promise of free land in America. Nobody arrived uninvited. They all wanted a piece of the dream. A dream described mainly by the letters from their own relatives already living in, by exaggerated descriptions of the so called opportunities.<br />
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Historically and cyclically immigrants had been discriminated by the native-born –and most likely garnished by surnames such as Fitzpatrick, Bauer, Rossi, Roosevelt, Murphy and Garcia – with unfair acts ranging from verbal and physical abuse to burning their homes and deporting them for taking the American’s jobs. Immigrants have been taking turns in the path of discrimination: African-Americans suffered the most by slavery and denial of human rights; Irish treated as second class citizens, carriers of diseases and filth. Mexicans treated as criminals, ignorant and second-class human beings. Stereotypes applied without further reasoning or logical foundation.<br />
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I am an immigrant. I was born in Mexico. I was naturalized American therefore became Mexican-American. My family lives in Arizona. I pay my taxes; we contribute to the great American economy. I am as proud of my background as I am loyal and grateful for the opportunity to be in the United States. My two beautiful nieces are half-Mexican, they will always be. I was told, more than once, I don’t look Mexican… neither do my nieces. I don’t take that as a compliment…it insults me and my heritage to the bone. Nobody should have the right to decide who is good or bad, who has the right to live or should leave by the way it looks, the ability to speak more than one language, an accent or the amount of spices you can tolerate in the food. Arizona’s government is enforcing a state of fear and encouraging the ignorant idea of supremacy based on racial profiles. <br />
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One of my best friends, who is also one of the smartest human beings I know – which happens to be Mexican – once told me “Illegal immigration is a social phenomenon not a crime”; by treating illegal immigrants crossing the southern border of the USA as such, and granting the authorities the right to apply subjective criteria to determine who is not an American, a greater evil is encouraged: racism and superiority. A few clarifications for the record: not all the darker-skin, short height, dark-hair, Spanish-spoken aliens trying to cross the border are illegal; neither are all Mexican – Guatemala, Salvador, Honduras and the rest of the central and south American places are, in fact, different countries (it might come as a shocker to some, but America is not just the United States). Not all “Latinos” look alike. <br />
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The United States of America, as well as any other nation in the world, has all the right to regulate immigration; nobody should live illegally in a country, without paying taxes and without basic living conditions. But one would think that a first-class country should have the capability to find better means of control; criminalizing an act of desperation and self-preservation goes against human nature, against the nation’s ideals and foundation. Yes, it is against the law and should be treated like that; but no, it is not a crime. Yes, it is something that should be regulated; but no, it does not give the right to become human-hunters.<br />
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Some of the greatest contributions to the American culture came from immigrants: from literature to food, from financial institutions to music. Immigrants willing to work hard and become part of a new generation of people open for change and respectful of each other’s right for freedom, to equal rights, equal obligations, and equal opportunities . Call me naïve and romantic, but I still want to believe in America for the Americans – whatever the background, whatever the country – but willing to be free.<br />
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To Mia and Amy - always feel proud of who you are.OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-33847510738643417392012-06-30T13:04:00.000-07:002012-06-30T13:12:59.233-07:00Fortunately, Unfortunately - by Ryan Osmond<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u_COYY2O1hY/T-9Shuw_nwI/AAAAAAAAAWE/vTtN9a1453U/s1600/Ryan_dec2010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-u_COYY2O1hY/T-9Shuw_nwI/AAAAAAAAAWE/vTtN9a1453U/s400/Ryan_dec2010.jpg" width="312" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan Osmond</td></tr>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, one day Kyle
won a lottery ticket. Unfortunately, it was in Japan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, there was an
airplane in 20 minutes. Unfortunately, the time he got there, there was a
thunderstorm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, the clouds
lowered, so the plane could lift off. Unfortunately, it started to hail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, he
parachuted into Japan. Unfortunately, he landed on a fire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, the fire got
put out. Unfortunately, he fell in an open manhole.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, there was
another manhole near by. Unfortunately, there was a giant troll ready to attack
him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, it was only
a statue. Unfortunately, now he was a mile away from the lottery ticket office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, there was a
taxi. Unfortunately, he was short on money.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, there was a
bank. Unfortunately, by the time he got back from the bank the taxi was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, he brought a
phone. Unfortunately, the new taxi ran out of gas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">Fortunately, it was right
at the lottery ticket office!</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;"> </span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;">THE END<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;"><i><b>About the author</b></i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;"><i>Ryan is an amazing Canadian-Mexican 8 year old boy. His creativity is beyond limits. Used to have an imaginary friend called Guga. He loves snow boarding, surfing, camping, rocks and backyard science. Ryan lives in Vancouver, BC with his parents, He is my best friend's son and Godson by heart...he is my beautiful, beautiful boy.</i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: Tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt;"><i><br /></i></span></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-33954993441308945822012-06-19T10:19:00.000-07:002012-06-19T10:20:26.408-07:00PART III – EDWINA MELTY HANDS<br />
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Edwina was her name…well, not really, not her real name, but
Edwina nonetheless</div>
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She was always on the run, always on a spree, flying back
and forth; just ask…she’s here</div>
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Showing off her talent, pretending to be free, but trapped
by her own challenges, locked inside indeed</div>
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Mademoiselle Edwina, would you like some wine? Looking good,
Miss Edwina! nice to see you and welcome back…</div>
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As time goes by Edwina, looking to be real, eager to be
noticed, tried out different things</div>
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Bendy one Edwina, funny one Edwina, pretty one Edwina,
smarty pants Edwina, reliable Edwina…sad inside Edwina</div>
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Why you cry, Menina Edwina?
Need more time to freshen up? Put yourself together, Edwina! You can’t
afford to be the weak vulnerable one.</div>
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Who is judging if not herself? Her own reflection fading
out…unrecognizable threatening shadows firing back from her almond watery eyes…
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Don’t be so tough on you Edwina, open the lock and spread
your mind. You have the key right in
your hands, the golden passport, the non-stop pass …just loosen up, shake it
off, open up and say ENOUGH!</div>
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So close yet so far, it sounds so easy, it scares so much. To
Edwina the good one, was given the chance to step forward, for no good reason,
no question marks, no hidden agenda or hard feelings… can this be right?</div>
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And then Edwina, being Edwina, pondered and wondered way too
much. Over thinking is her thing, a
nasty habit if you will. The key is
yours, darling, it always has and it will always be. Don’t forget: is in your
hands, not even hidden, it is right here.</div>
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<b style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><i>Right …in… my… fragile… melting… hands. </i></b>
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<b><i>Thank you for being here... thanks for your emails (especially you, Becky)... I am back!!!!</i></b></div>
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<b><i><br /></i></b></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-66937424466776611162011-11-02T00:00:00.000-07:002011-11-02T09:45:20.195-07:00The living dead<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0bdBH_tXAMw/TrC7lRhMMKI/AAAAAAAAAVI/OLCfPUTMa2U/s1600/living+dead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212px" ida="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0bdBH_tXAMw/TrC7lRhMMKI/AAAAAAAAAVI/OLCfPUTMa2U/s320/living+dead.jpg" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>There are many ways of dying. I’ve learned that soon enough as a child. When someone dies, you make your peace by mastering the idea of having our own time, our own cycle of life. Getting over the ones leaving voluntarily, by choice, by just walking out of your life is a little bit more complicated than that.<br />
<br />
<br />
Keep living after death, soon the calm returns, melancholy remains, keeping them alive by usually remembering just the good times; we start turning them into heroes, supernatural beings, who are always by our side, watching our sleep, or so it seems. In our head they are perfect, nothing bad to recall, no horrible mistakes made all because they are not coming back.<br />
<br />
The toughest to recover from are the ones alive and kicking, the tangible, audible, yet dearly departed ones. Looking for themselves, for their individuality, for their true self they left, unpredictable actions, morphing, making a new life. Leaving us in shards, emptiness and pain; trying to find comfort in a justifying lie or the bitter aftertaste of our sugar coated pride.<br />
<br />
The stages of grief mutate when that presence re-appears every once in a while; in a comment, at a glance, in a picture seen by chance. They are still here, you know and feel. Yet not the same, not with you, not even near. <br />
<br />
It is not easy to deal with the living dead. How to find peace and balance again? Time reveals: we screwed up by giving or asking for way too much; that protection was not needed on the contrary was bad, overwhelming, even castrating, nursing rotten feelings inside. Should we keep waiting for the right time for them to rectify? Do we really stand a chance or is just another lie? That love remains intact to eventually upraise. Is it really even possible to recover what has been broken inside?<br />
<br />
November 2nd, day of the dead, reminiscence applies. Missing them, feeling them near and missing me with them as much. To the afterlife, to the new life, or wherever you guys are: I love you… in my own selfish way, in my own imperfect terms. The love remains, can you see the light?<br />
<br />
<br />
<em>...oh where are thou?</em>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-16015363033632186582011-10-02T10:51:00.000-07:002011-10-02T10:51:49.595-07:00PART II – THE GIRL WHO LOOKED FOR FACES<em>Paris, France - June - July 2011</em><br />
<br />
Every city has its charm, poetry, indiference, magic, rythm. Paris in particular can be overwhelming especially if you feel lost. Walking, observing, focusing, all of the sudden they all came alive.. there were faces in every corner, in every step, looking at me, screaming their story; some of them hidden between lines and shadows, other so obvious and vivid. It became an obsession... my personal hunt for friendly features...and then, I was found...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oEFvzusyY1Q/ToUfd2KswhI/AAAAAAAAAUE/GxHdRfw8o_I/s1600/L1020409.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oEFvzusyY1Q/ToUfd2KswhI/AAAAAAAAAUE/GxHdRfw8o_I/s320/L1020409.JPG" width="240px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Square eyes</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r8q9DESFHko/ToUf2DlYqpI/AAAAAAAAAUI/oQ74JYMuYJA/s1600/L1020412.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r8q9DESFHko/ToUf2DlYqpI/AAAAAAAAAUI/oQ74JYMuYJA/s320/L1020412.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big nose!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Straight face</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zgQZU-5HKQ4/ToUgzTA5fJI/AAAAAAAAAUg/Joy0VVVc6KA/s1600/L1020420.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zgQZU-5HKQ4/ToUgzTA5fJI/AAAAAAAAAUg/Joy0VVVc6KA/s320/L1020420.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warm smile</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xUXFeK6dcK0/ToUhNILILEI/AAAAAAAAAUk/OMZxvQKnDEc/s1600/L1020421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xUXFeK6dcK0/ToUhNILILEI/AAAAAAAAAUk/OMZxvQKnDEc/s320/L1020421.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fun, Fun, Fun</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-joO_-tRl9Do/ToUhfIzIz6I/AAAAAAAAAUo/wUgXqjvI_Ac/s1600/L1020431.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-joO_-tRl9Do/ToUhfIzIz6I/AAAAAAAAAUo/wUgXqjvI_Ac/s320/L1020431.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why so sad?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bLPEKe46VYo/ToUiLLTqWDI/AAAAAAAAAUs/DKHPI0wrTPM/s1600/L1020432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bLPEKe46VYo/ToUiLLTqWDI/AAAAAAAAAUs/DKHPI0wrTPM/s320/L1020432.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sculped guardian</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YUxRYcWrhDw/ToUiktbjDDI/AAAAAAAAAUw/G9CbAvpXifk/s1600/L1020434.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YUxRYcWrhDw/ToUiktbjDDI/AAAAAAAAAUw/G9CbAvpXifk/s320/L1020434.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evil with style</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SYydDgOPc9Y/ToUivd0U2FI/AAAAAAAAAU0/gZ4oOoGfD3g/s1600/L1020479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SYydDgOPc9Y/ToUivd0U2FI/AAAAAAAAAU0/gZ4oOoGfD3g/s320/L1020479.JPG" width="240px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shalk for a walk</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NjRrHxq-lgM/ToUi9D2-mxI/AAAAAAAAAU4/b7X--Dpvvos/s1600/L1020505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NjRrHxq-lgM/ToUi9D2-mxI/AAAAAAAAAU4/b7X--Dpvvos/s320/L1020505.JPG" width="240px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Urban art</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-74YqiAWDOmg/ToUjFml9ZjI/AAAAAAAAAU8/fz71w_QM9uc/s1600/L1020527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-74YqiAWDOmg/ToUjFml9ZjI/AAAAAAAAAU8/fz71w_QM9uc/s320/L1020527.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Doing the catwalk</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w-hz76ES9Ko/ToUf6hQFsbI/AAAAAAAAAUM/C9eIHFxPUrk/s1600/L1020413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w-hz76ES9Ko/ToUf6hQFsbI/AAAAAAAAAUM/C9eIHFxPUrk/s320/L1020413.JPG" width="240px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gassy one</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sd_KuQkcmOo/ToUjcIc44jI/AAAAAAAAAVA/-XRunVhYYeI/s1600/L1020529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sd_KuQkcmOo/ToUjcIc44jI/AAAAAAAAAVA/-XRunVhYYeI/s320/L1020529.JPG" width="240px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sad clown</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6cksJ8De9Xs/ToUgEtPhH3I/AAAAAAAAAUQ/BaMPi-lRl5A/s1600/L1020416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6cksJ8De9Xs/ToUgEtPhH3I/AAAAAAAAAUQ/BaMPi-lRl5A/s320/L1020416.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patched eye</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IlXUNHT6Ydc/ToUgTgzD9qI/AAAAAAAAAUU/X-I0gVb1byQ/s1600/L1020417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240px" kca="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IlXUNHT6Ydc/ToUgTgzD9qI/AAAAAAAAAUU/X-I0gVb1byQ/s320/L1020417.JPG" width="320px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mouth wide shut</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wos_LyQHums/ToUgZr0W5xI/AAAAAAAAAUY/rg3plml4xvQ/s1600/L1020418.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" kca="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wos_LyQHums/ToUgZr0W5xI/AAAAAAAAAUY/rg3plml4xvQ/s320/L1020418.JPG" width="240px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tattoo on a wall</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wSK3ICTUxZA/ToijmpBEctI/AAAAAAAAAVE/uJbMEz5mX1E/s1600/camera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="215px" kca="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wSK3ICTUxZA/ToijmpBEctI/AAAAAAAAAVE/uJbMEz5mX1E/s400/camera.jpg" width="400px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smile!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-82934907278230020632011-09-06T16:40:00.000-07:002011-09-06T16:40:31.805-07:00PART I – LOCKED IN THE PAST<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gPFQEg0v3Yg/TmaoakhtXuI/AAAAAAAAAT8/_-Tsmha4vLA/s1600/lock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225px" nba="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gPFQEg0v3Yg/TmaoakhtXuI/AAAAAAAAAT8/_-Tsmha4vLA/s400/lock.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It is dark in here. The red-eye flight to Paris is nothing but a dead-calm container of snoring people and light flashes coming from the multiple mini-tv screens all along the aircraft. Here I am, trying to sleep but not finding a comfy pose - my legs are too short so they don’t fully touch the floor yet the seat is too narrow for me to do my typical pretzel twist. Looking thru the window I can’t see much but even a darker space with blood-red intermittent splashes coming from the wing. So I made up my mind, stood up to stretch and took my traveling pill’s case - an array of choices covered with inviting letters M,T,W,T,F,S,S …red, blue, round, oblong, tiny white… wait, tiny white? What is this pill? I don’t remember putting it in here, how come it has all the W space reserved for such a small pill; I should’ve known better not to take it, I should’ve gotten my regular P.M blue ones… yet I was drawn to it…I opened up, said AHH then took it with the last zip of water left behind. </div><br />
<br />
Who gave me this remedy? What is it doing in my personal case? All those questions started to vanish while I was dozing in and out following the rhythmic turbine noise…eyes closed, deep black tunnel…eyes back open, navy blue upholstery from the back of the front seat…eyes closed, warm known feeling…eyes half open, blurry features of a familiar face…eyes closed…tight …wide shut…and gone.<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AlqWwrPj78M/TmaqHN6f8eI/AAAAAAAAAUA/optzzKoxOQY/s1600/espejo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" nba="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AlqWwrPj78M/TmaqHN6f8eI/AAAAAAAAAUA/optzzKoxOQY/s320/espejo.jpg" width="212px" /></a>Flashes of yellow -orangey spots were flying by… shivering feeling making my head turn from side to side… velvet clouds and me floating beneath…a car, looks like a Gremlin circa ‘78; children’s songs in Spanish surrounding the area – Mimoso Raton, Patas Verdes, Mafafa and Pistachon are singing their bubbly tunes from a morning Sunday show I loved – it is me and my little sister riding with mom who is driving us to our new city… music fading and the blurry face approaching… I can’t quite see, just feel… a cold wind is cutting by, distracting noise, and there they are…my childhood friends, playing, dancing, exchanging lunch with me, teachers and guitars, soccer team…then….gone. Train Pullman cabin, coloring books, snacks… sister, me and mom, traveling back… a tiny crowded house where feelings were insane, new city, new adventures, same uncertainty …same faded -looking face, showing up in every corner then slowly going away…again. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">The sensation of falling is so real, the sudden fast sequence of images, rushing down like heavy rain… there goes graduation, high school friends, rejection, insecurity, seasoned by accomplishments, high heels, eighties’ hair… next to me there is an angel, my perfect match, catching me softly…only to let me fall again… this time was even harder, deeper and deeper in to the darkest place until a ray of light just bright enough to see that my angel was still there, with broken wings, yet wide open to catch me again.</div><br />
Revolving doors inside my brain, messing with me… phantoms appearing then shading, pushing , grabbing and confusing , the already unbalanced, vulnerable me... sweating and screaming then a sudden shake – “ Miss, are you alright? Do you need some water? We are about to land”… and so I woke up, looking around: same aircraft, same passengers but a good couple of thousand miles away. <br />
<br />
While gathering my personal belongings to get off the plain, my pill case fell so I reached down to get it. M, T,W,T,F,S,S letters all in blue over transparent plastic flip caps… multi-colored pills making the sound of a therapeutic maraca... I giggled… while staring at W… only to notice…the space…was not …empty… little white pill …was…still…there.<br />
<br />
<em><strong>AFTERWORD</strong></em><br />
<br />
They say dreams are our sub conscience way to tell you something, a window to your fears, desires or pending stuff looking for closure. If dreams are messages, our brain is one tough, mercy-less messenger.<br />
<br />
Truth is, we can’t deny our past. As dumb as it sounds, let’s face it: the past in fact, happened. You can’t just let go. As much as you try your memories to go away, they find their way to comeback, they are free, lingering in every detail … that’s the mistake: trying to “let go”. After much consideration, I truly believe we should do the opposite - the trick is to lock them, keep them in a safe place where only you (or at least the conscient you) are the master and key keeper, the real owner. <br />
<br />
Memories and experiences made you what you are. Good, tough, bad or worse, they can’t disappear; they can’t be changed (as much as you try). But you can control them, keep them deep inside. Sort them by category then lock them, lock them hard. Allowing them to visit…but only when you want. <br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-size: large;">…Locked in: The past</span></em>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-15287545789458151422011-09-04T15:32:00.000-07:002011-09-04T15:32:57.987-07:00Could the real good reason please rise?<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nCdIJZ2vXHo/TmP7-hAGUWI/AAAAAAAAAT4/88BSYbK8Mjs/s1600/DSC_1200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nCdIJZ2vXHo/TmP7-hAGUWI/AAAAAAAAAT4/88BSYbK8Mjs/s320/DSC_1200.JPG" width="320px" xaa="true" /></a></div>It is Sunday September 4th, 2011, 4 PM in Sao Paulo, Brazil, where I am spending my long weekend, working. It is kind of crisp outside but hot as hell in the office; a mild sore throat and the feeling of “it is Sunday, shutdown and leave” is overwhelming.<br />
<br />
<br />
It has been more than two months since last time I posted in my blog or read yours. TWO MONTHS!! Amazing how time flies and takes toll where you least expect it. It is hard to start after such long absence, especially difficult to decide what to write and which story is the proper one for a good comeback, knowing that, must likely and with perfect sense, I’ve lost you all.<br />
<br />
So, instead of starting with a random pick of my weird deep stories, life lesson, travel anecdote, or funny remark (but saving them for later), I’ve decided to start by explaining, as good as I can, the reasons behind my lack of commitment to write…but it is up to you to tell, which ones, if any, are real! <br />
<br />
What could have happened in the life of a regular Josephine for the last two months? What in my world could be so overwhelming, powerful and reasonable enough to encourage the natural born procrastinator in me? <br />
<br />
Stay tuned for more…<br />
<br />
<em>PART I – LOCKED IN THE PAST</em><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<em>PART II – THE GIRL WHO LOOKED FOR FACES </em><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<em>PART III – EDWINA MELTY HANDS</em><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<em>PART IV – A MACARON RAIN</em><br />
<em><br />
</em><br />
<em>PART V – UNDER THERE… UNDERWEAR?</em><br />
<br />
OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-26121787316898108072011-06-25T14:28:00.000-07:002011-06-25T15:53:11.029-07:00Searching for monsters<em>Paris, France Saturday June 25th, 2011</em> <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-viumGwQYtiA/TgZQQP50flI/AAAAAAAAAT0/LC0xyu0FuaY/s1600/L1020397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" i$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-viumGwQYtiA/TgZQQP50flI/AAAAAAAAAT0/LC0xyu0FuaY/s320/L1020397.JPG" width="212px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">It started with the cutest remark: <em>”…they went there, Nina, to Paris, the monsters are there</em>”. I giggled. My niece knew where I was traveling to when I told her my next destination (she even said “<em>are you going there again?</em>”) it was impressive. “<em>When is day time here it is night time there for you, Nina</em>”…she is smart and has my kind of memory for details.</div><br />
<br />
Monsters then I were sent to find. At first I thought of looking for a poster, a post card or any cut out with the green and blue characters from Monsters, Inc. Perhaps pull an Amelie and take a picture with the Eiffel tower behind. It has been almost a week since I arrived to Paris and every day I take a walk back and forth the same streets, all by myself after finishing work. The sun sets quite late this time of the year here, so I get to enjoy the nice weather and sunny evenings for a little longer.<br />
<br />
No signs of monsters though. They are not easy to find. Streets are crowded with multinational visitors as well as multi-layered locals, all somehow captivated by the city, the shops, the scents and the looks – brasseries, pubs, cafes all full. Trendy cigar smoking Parisians sporting their snobby pouts and tiny glasses of wine. Ultra skinny model-like youngsters, filling up ashtrays with yellow cigarette butts, drinking funny looking spirits, speaking rapidly but no food on their plates. <br />
<br />
If you don’t ask they just don’t care if you are standing there politely, waiting patiently for a table to be assigned. Finally they push you to a confined place as if being one plus NONE is some kind of defect. For everything else I am so self assured, why is it then that I feel so intimidated by these arrogant Parisians looking down at you? Why do I feel so exposed eating alone in this city? I’ve done bigger things all by myself, much daring than ordering an entrée.<br />
<br />
There and then I realized that my search was over… I’d found the monsters all around me – the ones with sharp brown teeth and smelly breath, others with no eyes (or pretending not to see), many with big mouths laughing and chatting in French, laughing at me.<br />
<br />
But the worst of the creatures, the scariest and meanest, is the monster inside me. The one that makes me feel small and uncomfortable in my own skin. <br />
<br />
The day after, I decided to face the damned creature to tell it straight: stop it! I am in PARIS! It is NOT sad and I am NOT a looser for going out solo…<br />
<br />
…so, I am writing this thoughts with my glass of champagne, front row table, spreading butter on my bread at the Louvre Brasserie*, pushing down my inner monster, the sabotage master, cruel judgmental, overwhelming and intimidating evil being…and you know what? It does feel rather great.<br />
<br />
<em>To my dear wise Mia...one day you will come along to one of my trips, but as always, you are here with me.</em><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: purple;"><strong>*Brasserie du Louvre</strong></span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: purple;"><strong>Place du Palais Royal 75001</strong></span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: purple;"><strong>Paris - Ph. 01 44 58 37 16</strong></span></em></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-78922168474290803542011-06-02T19:15:00.000-07:002011-06-02T19:15:42.307-07:00The bone collection <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ei3lRZDQU5k/TehA4nKKbgI/AAAAAAAAATw/1trsADhQ7nQ/s1600/Lady-gaga-0511-7-de.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ei3lRZDQU5k/TehA4nKKbgI/AAAAAAAAATw/1trsADhQ7nQ/s320/Lady-gaga-0511-7-de.jpg" t8="true" width="235px" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image Source:<br />
<a href="http://ladygaga.wikia.com/wiki/File:Lady-gaga-0511-7-de.jpg">http://ladygaga.wikia.com/wiki/File:Lady-gaga-0511-7-de.jpg</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <em>May 30, 2011 flying from Houston to Sao Paulo</em> <br />
<br />
Who doesn’t know Lady Gaga? She is in every radio, Ipod, in ads, magazines, TV shows, anyway, everywhere. Her music may be pop and not ultra special, but nonetheless as catchy as it is commercial. Her looks? Well… let’s just state she is not the usual standard. You either love her or hate her, but she is definitively not indifferent to the general public.<br />
<br />
I was getting cozy for my 12 hour-flight last Monday with my new book and my fabulous fashion magazine (“picture” shopping Chanel, Gucci, Prada, Dior and Louboutine’s) which was featuring, well, you know, the one and only MotherMonster: Lady G, as the flaming cover. The image impacted me – not only the super black long overall, hyper high platform heels, extremely thick black eyeliner and pinkish long hair all twisted in a weird pose, but she was sporting… new bones.<br />
<br />
Assorted flesh-covered pointy bones around her cheek bones, forehead and across her shoulders; they didn’t look prosthetic, they were not the Halloween scary over the top props, somehow they looked natural - ok maybe not that natural… but real. After surfing thru the colorful pages invaded by brands, there it was: Gaga’s interview and more pictures.<br />
<br />
I have to admit, the girl didn’t sound staged – she has very particular ideas and points of view as well as some self confidence and poise that is almost tangible. Eccentric, radical, extreme, energetic, are just a few words that came to my mind while reading the bit. Of course the “bone” collection question popped, for which her answer was something like “these are my bones…they have always been in me… just waiting for the right moment to show up”. I had to read back… I had to think hard. By the time I finished reading my mind was in a strange mood, almost meditative (crazy, uh?). It was just not possible for somebody, even for a famous pop culture icon to be that crazy, that stupid, and that pretentious. Again, she doesn’t give me the impression of a shallow marketing- created puppet with no purpose – her words, attitude and artistic style have to be something more.<br />
<br />
Whether the bones are implants or surgical transformation of her own bone structure, it is not relevant. The bones are making a statement: if plastic surgery is acceptable to make cookie-cutter noses, lips and cheek bones, it is also fine to apply it for something else. I get that, no big deal. Did I like it? Not really, but who cares. She is not making a revelation on what true beauty should be, nor is she trying to set a trend. Then, why was I so impacted? Why was I not able to stop thinking about it while looking thru a tiny window 33,000 ft above ground? <br />
<br />
<br />
<em>…these are my bones… they have always been in me… just waiting for the right moment to show up…</em><br />
<br />
<br />
It was the wife in love fighting day by day to keep a marriage together, tolerating more than one can get, accepting excuses as promises that soon everything will be the way it should be… and then one day this hidden warrior grows a backbone and says “no more” …bringing things to an end.<br />
It is the men always in charge, always on top of his game, perfectionist and even arrogant if you like, with un-accepted flaws and many sins…finally having the guts to recognize and face his errors… asking for a second chance to make it right, to make it better.<br />
<br />
It is the nerve of some people, to pretend everything is fine; to act like is just normal and perfectly right to misbehave, to ruin somebody else’s life.<br />
<br />
Is the people we love, that special someone teaching us how to survive, how to be better, how to grow up, how to forgive, how to recover and start from scratch…when they spread their angel wings to fly up to the sky.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<em><strong>We all morph… we can be monsters…act…react…be victims…sinners or martyrs… with the right timing and the suitable outlet…we can all be good or bad. </strong></em>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-58277348905006905732011-05-01T18:47:00.001-07:002011-05-01T18:47:31.982-07:00Life according to me, lesson 35<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Perfection is just an image in our head usually imposed by others that can change and mutate on daily basis... at the end, is what we decide and truly accept to be perfect what matters.</span></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-60575484533355998772011-04-25T20:55:00.000-07:002011-04-25T20:55:18.607-07:00Easter thought<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DDRs9QJGcZA/TbZBqvcGOPI/AAAAAAAAATk/d7Y8K1MTDDo/s1600/DSC00059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" i8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DDRs9QJGcZA/TbZBqvcGOPI/AAAAAAAAATk/d7Y8K1MTDDo/s320/DSC00059.JPG" width="320px" /></a></div><span class="messageBody">In my next life I wanna be the Easter bunny... is fluffy (not fat), eats tons of chocolate without remorse, is super cute and soft, everybody loves it, wears pink with style and works ONE DAY PER YEAR!!!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="messageBody">Hope you had a wonderful Easter!</span>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-44115799660076865132011-04-11T20:30:00.000-07:002011-04-11T20:30:41.032-07:00Lost in Brazil...found by a sister.<em>Sao Paulo, Brazil April 10, 2011</em><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8wQPwwBYeHw/TaPDLDDBMAI/AAAAAAAAATg/XP2eEFN2efk/s1600/Sisters+of+the+Quill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8wQPwwBYeHw/TaPDLDDBMAI/AAAAAAAAATg/XP2eEFN2efk/s320/Sisters+of+the+Quill.jpg" width="297" /></a></div>For the last 10 days I have been working non-stop in Brazil...and by non-stop I really mean it - Saturdays, Sundays, midnights, all-nighters, the works. The hardest part is not the stress, the tiredness, lack of sleep or scattered meals... the hardest part is realizing all the things I've been missing for 10 days...from my weekends at home, waking up to a fresh mug of coffee, Murphy jumping up to bed and hubby by my side to my cousins singing with me out loud, laughing, planning, dreaming. <br />
The feeling of control over my time and actions, lost. Routine dictated by the endless tasks, trial and error, pressure added by impossible milestones...it's like I've been living in a non-stop deja vu...like waking up in the middle of The Groundhog Day movie. <br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
And yet today, I found the nicest surprise: a fellow blogger passed on a blogger's award...The Sisters of the Quill award...I am touched. She passed this award to (and I quote) <span style="font-family: inherit;">"deserving writers, to women whose talent needs to be recognized" - wow...now I feel commited to keep up the huge faith my dear <a href="http://siouxspage.blogspot.com/">Sioux</a> has on my amateur writing...thank you very much!</span><br />
<br />
The proclamation is to spread the sisterhood! I would like to pass it over to five fantastic writers that always impress me, inspire me, move me and create a connection with their words, heart and soul:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://greenmonkeytales.blogspot.com/">Green Monkey Tales</a> to her wit and sensibility<br />
<a href="http://www.f8hasit.com/">F8hasit</a> to her poignant realism and brave heart<br />
<a href="http://www.mydailyspirit.net/">My Daily Spirit</a> to her poetry, romanticism, faith in life.<br />
<a href="http://www.goddesswrite.com/">Everyday Goddess</a> to her tales, stories and fantastic imagination<br />
<a href="http://beckypovich.blogspot.com/">Becky Povich</a> to her humor, energy, good vibe...to her generous soul.<br />
<br />
Pass it on!!!<br />
<br />
<em>"...Because it is in writing where I found my scape...it is in reading where my soul reflects." OJG</em>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-1657443681811280592011-04-01T19:43:00.000-07:002011-04-01T19:43:35.488-07:00Hibernate/ /Restart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-omiGjpfFS0A/TZaMBe9z0PI/AAAAAAAAATQ/d76jHCcFN4s/s1600/L1020236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" r6="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-omiGjpfFS0A/TZaMBe9z0PI/AAAAAAAAATQ/d76jHCcFN4s/s320/L1020236.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Every time I feel like writing, there is an impulse stopping me by.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Procrastination is taking over my usual flow of inspiration </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My source of stories locked somehow.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I have so many things to share… my latest journeys, dreams accomplished </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">People met, places visited, baseball and much more plans.</div><br />
What to do when work is taking most of your usual enjoyable time?<br />
<br />
Worst part is work used to be a pleasure…but is starting to feel like too much.<br />
<br />
How to react when you need to take a break from taking breaks?<br />
<br />
Where to start to force your brain to think again in full paragraphs<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rFZGAZTqh1s/TZaMho4VhII/AAAAAAAAATU/n8ci3EcrEac/s1600/L1020237.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" r6="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rFZGAZTqh1s/TZaMho4VhII/AAAAAAAAATU/n8ci3EcrEac/s320/L1020237.JPG" width="320" /></a>In rhythmic sentences and simple lines, or at least in short sarcastic remarks.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My eyes are tired…my body aches. It has been a little bit too much.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Excuse myself for this humble exercise...my attempt to write, to write again</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">But here I am at least just trying, to break my dry spell for a day.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-56676801606290999792011-03-08T08:45:00.000-08:002011-03-08T08:45:23.557-08:00W.O.M.E.N.<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-hkb2EMHme2U/TXZbLftdh2I/AAAAAAAAATM/0QClkMftdjE/s1600/L1010490+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" q6="true" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-hkb2EMHme2U/TXZbLftdh2I/AAAAAAAAATM/0QClkMftdjE/s400/L1010490+%25282%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Congratulations to all my genre partners… <br />
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Partners in sex, fashion, Rock&Roll<br />
Tactic<br />
Strategy<br />
Histrionism<br />
Grace<br />
Tenacity (but not stubbornness)<br />
Goodwill (but never foolishness)<br />
Pride (but not haughtiness)<br />
Virtue (but not sanctity)<br />
Beauty (sometimes subtle others overwhelming but always powerful)<br />
Intelligence (many times underestimated therefore evident). <br />
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If God wouldn’t have created us, Walt Disney would have invented us!!<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt -0.75pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-outline-level: 6; tab-stops: list .5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7pt 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><em>Felicidades a todas mis congeneres de sexo,moda,rock&roll, tactica, estrategia, capacidad histrionica, gracia, tenacidad(que no necedad), buena voluntad(que no pendejez), soberbia(que no altivez), virtud(que no santidad), belleza(a veces sutil, otras desbordante pero todas contundente), inteligencia(tantas veces menospreciada y por lo mismo evidenciada).Si Dios no nos hubiera inventado, nos habria creado Walt Disney!</em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-r_hitudqmWQ/Ss-DurncYDI/AAAAAAAAACA/gSiVmvMvVm8/s1600/gogaclaus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" q6="true" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-r_hitudqmWQ/Ss-DurncYDI/AAAAAAAAACA/gSiVmvMvVm8/s320/gogaclaus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-21713082466773345422011-02-26T17:15:00.000-08:002011-02-26T17:15:14.563-08:00Life according to me, lesson 34<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">The difference between falling and flying is just a matter of perspective and attitude.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><em>...it's been a while since my last post... it's been a while since my last comment on your blogs... it's been a while since I felt so drowned by the endless duties of working life ...for that I do apologize.</em></span></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-29206539041610775602011-02-01T08:38:00.000-08:002011-02-01T08:38:57.083-08:00People are strange...<em>Paris, France, January 30, 2011 - Père Lachaise Cemetery</em><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TUgvuYUNs5I/AAAAAAAAAS4/hZ2T35bbcwg/s1600/L1010933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TUgvuYUNs5I/AAAAAAAAAS4/hZ2T35bbcwg/s320/L1010933.JPG" width="211" /></a> <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TUgvuYUNs5I/AAAAAAAAAS4/hZ2T35bbcwg/s1600/L1010933.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><em></em></a><em>People are strange when you’re a stranger </em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Faces look ugly when you’re alone</em><em><br />
</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Women seem wicked when you’re unwanted</em><em><br />
</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Streets are uneven when you’re down</em><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TUgyqBo02qI/AAAAAAAAATA/6jbvVJalo9A/s1600/L1010941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TUgyqBo02qI/AAAAAAAAATA/6jbvVJalo9A/s320/L1010941.JPG" width="240" /></a><em></em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<em>When you’re strange </em></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em>Faces come out of the rain </em></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em>When you’re strange</em></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: left;"><em>No one remembers your name</em><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TUgwj7M7hRI/AAAAAAAAAS8/zGzURfWCc4I/s1600/L1010942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<br />
<em>When you’re strange…</em><br />
<em>When you’re strange…</em><br />
<em>When you’re strange</em><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TUgzVZdoUXI/AAAAAAAAATE/BCI6i-hbDXk/s1600/L1010935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TUgzVZdoUXI/AAAAAAAAATE/BCI6i-hbDXk/s400/L1010935.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: right;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><em>Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws. </em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Jim Morrison</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: #666666;"><strong>gothicchillingwalkingdreamingesurrealemotivemovingexperience...gonebutnotforgotten</strong></span></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-1187565917992137202011-01-28T06:20:00.000-08:002011-01-28T06:20:04.627-08:00January Je t’aime<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TULOJIqWt_I/AAAAAAAAAS0/Xn0fZfp7FU4/s1600/L1010812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TULOJIqWt_I/AAAAAAAAAS0/Xn0fZfp7FU4/s320/L1010812.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>I’ve been distracted from my blog, kind of absent from my usual reading and not leaving many comments lately (my sincere apologies to my dear blogger friends). The truth is, it has been an amazing start of the year, a 2011 that is already feeling like flying by.<br />
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From organizing and hosting a bridal shower to my dear cousin on the very same day we’ve lost my beloved pet and loyal friend Verdell (speaking of contrasting feelings and emotions), to attending, enjoying and be part of one of the most amazing weddings I’ve ever been (only comparable to my other cousin’s wedding, the sister of the bride, so I guess good taste, style and hospitality run in the family), all garnished by the fact that I have been working non-stop and was called back to a project I thought was over for me. But you know what the real cherry on top of things was? One week ago, I was offered to cover a 10 day job… in Paris.<br />
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…oh yes… in PARIS. It was totally surprising, unplanned and one of those things you know were meant to be: the timing was right, air fares were available within the approved price range and, my husband was willing and available to go with me! It doesn’t get better than that!<br />
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So here I am, in one of the most amazing cities in the world, working but also enjoying each night with my perfect travel companion. The weather is extremely cold, yet is not raining or snowing which makes it manageable. Last night we bundled-up and took the RER train to the Louvre…we had not enough time to actually get in, but just the fact of seeing the majestic building illuminated, quiet, superb and above all, un-crowded, made the moment an overwhelming experience. The infamous glass pyramid is surrounded by triangular -shaped water mirrors (not fountains) …the view from the entrance was too much to be described. I felt like crying. We are going back today, this time for real!<br />
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It was time for dinner so we looked for a nice cozy place and found just the perfect little restaurant. It was not the typical brasserie or café, but more like a bistro-lounge with that quaint atmosphere only an old building can give. The place was decorated in black-indigo blue and white, candle lights on each black table, walls were painted with unique murals and decorative wall hangings were pretty much merged with tasteful painted details (picture this: a polar bear head framed by black paint simulating dripping blood… a black tree painted on the wall along with a few blue birds caged by antique wooden picture frames…black stilettos nailed up to act as coat racks). The menu was eclectic and the wine list limited but super affordable. We ordered a nice bottle of red (French of course!) and started with homemade foie gras topped with sea salt and a very special rhubarb relish. Hubby got the 7-hour lamb (slow cooked to perfection and served in round medallions of tender juicy meat) with wild mushroom lasagna as a side dish. I ordered the sea bass “a la plancha” grilled with the skin for an enhanced flavor and seasoned with turmeric on top of the creamiest mashed potatoes and turnip sauce…it was to die for!<br />
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Our server completed the magic by speaking Spanish with the cutest Spanish accent and a French kick; he was amazingly attentive and generous! The golden seal was of course, dessert: freshly baked waffle with hazelnut ice cream and nutella washed down by a glass of Remi Martin cognac and a sip (yes, a sip was all I could take) of a typical French homemade fruit liquor (vin de fruit), prune I believe, so strong that made my sinuses clear and my ears warm! <br />
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Milleneufcentsoixantedixneuf (nineteen seventy nine ) is the name of this jewel, named after the birth year of one of the owners, which objective is to dine and entertain the young adults (30-40’s) with a special environment, delicious modern food, after work drinks and, what do you know, after midnight, it turns in to a hip night club!! We didn’t stay long enough to experience the full concept, but left with the sweet after taste of discovering the right place to spend a cold winter night in the city of lights, holding hands and walking to take the train back to our hotel, finishing the day with a smile and the last trace of jet lag, tired but accomplished… getting ready for more, because the week has just started!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TULL1MFioJI/AAAAAAAAASw/qNE5Pz87Q1Q/s1600/L1010813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" s5="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TULL1MFioJI/AAAAAAAAASw/qNE5Pz87Q1Q/s200/L1010813.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><strong><em>Milleneufcentsoixantedixneuf</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><strong><em>cafelunchsalondinnerandmore</em></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em>49 RUE BERGER/75001/PARIS/0140410878</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><em><a href="mailto:info@milleneufcentsoixantedixneuf.fr">info@milleneufcentsoixantedixneuf.fr</a></em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-14623684034807439822011-01-16T15:01:00.000-08:002011-01-16T15:01:26.164-08:00Requiem for a friend...a Magpie Tale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TTNVO-5gDRI/AAAAAAAAASo/lVg9BNRiYFI/s1600/magpie+48.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TTNVO-5gDRI/AAAAAAAAASo/lVg9BNRiYFI/s320/magpie+48.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Sad notes floating around, dark elegant tones<br />
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Long chords…vibrating and profound.<br />
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Steps sounding firmly yet fading, walking away<br />
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Along with the wet shadow of our tears,<br />
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A bitter feeling of emptiness only filled by<br />
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The intensity of your memory left behind.<br />
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You decided when…you determined how<br />
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Your spirit was grand, hence your departure<br />
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honoring your character and equally grand<br />
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No pity...no suffering…no need for goodbyes.<br />
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Crossing other fields now you are<br />
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With that legendary attitude<br />
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The head up, your sway and style.<br />
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Marking other yards…touching other hearts.<br />
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Don’t be afraid, never look back…do not hesitate<br />
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Little by little we are going to be fine.<br />
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This is the end of your time with us<br />
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But certainly not your end…just a new start.<br />
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<em><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em>This is a Magpie tale - Mag 48 - for other Magpie tales click <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2011/01/mag-48.html"><span style="font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: black;">Magpie Tales</span></strong></span></a></em></div></em> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TTN2rNKD4WI/AAAAAAAAASs/QLyY8YfRT00/s1600/DSC01956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TTN2rNKD4WI/AAAAAAAAASs/QLyY8YfRT00/s200/DSC01956.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">For my one and only Verdell, our beloved friend for almost 12 years. May 10, 1999 - January 13, 2011</span></em></div><br />
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OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-37958119893523910972011-01-10T01:01:00.000-08:002011-01-10T01:01:37.609-08:00Life according to me, lesson 33<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">When in doubt between making money or enjoying it, always choose to enjoy; have fun while making a living, embrace the process of living your life…money is certainly needed but not necessary.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Calibri','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://castazero.blogspot.com/2010/12/life-according-to-me-lesson-32.html"><strong>Life according to me, lesson 32</strong></a></span></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-26041518647651469522010-12-31T15:31:00.000-08:002010-12-31T15:57:59.051-08:00A year in images… an itinerant 2010.<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5aeyy2DBI/AAAAAAAAARo/7uJa2KAMiZ8/s1600/L1000392-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5aeyy2DBI/AAAAAAAAARo/7uJa2KAMiZ8/s320/L1000392-1.JPG" width="240" /></a>2010 is almost over. The last day of the year is always full of memories, wishes, hopes, feelings, reminders; it has a mix of excitement for the things to come and melancholy for the things left behind. This year was intense and honestly, kind of short! There are not enough days in one year to accomplish everything, especially when each year we have a long list of “to do’s”, changes, adjustments, new requirements, old vices to shed, new vices to share, decisions to make, places to be, people to love.</div></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>January 2010 – Las Vegas, Baby!</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">What a way to start a year, in Vegas with my one and only, a sea of people, fireworks and a view to kill!!<br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5dtyelmMI/AAAAAAAAARs/9s2Rlyjmu60/s1600/20-01-10_1655.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5dtyelmMI/AAAAAAAAARs/9s2Rlyjmu60/s200/20-01-10_1655.jpg" width="150" /></a><strong></strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>Mid January 2010 - Argentina , mate and red wine.</strong></div></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">On a business trip, enjoying great red wine, sharing good mate and its ceremony, leaving me shaking and eager for more!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5eg8BBXqI/AAAAAAAAARw/c_g8Pgueu8E/s1600/1127091614a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5eg8BBXqI/AAAAAAAAARw/c_g8Pgueu8E/s200/1127091614a.jpg" width="200" /></a><strong>February 2010 – Vancouver and the Olympics!</strong></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A cold scenery, my best friend and her family in a city ready to celebrate the glory of winter sports.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5ff_jH3xI/AAAAAAAAAR4/QyyWUQd7aN8/s1600/andessunrise1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5ff_jH3xI/AAAAAAAAAR4/QyyWUQd7aN8/s1600/andessunrise1.jpg" /></a><strong>March 2010 – Hawaii, Venezuela…and his departure.</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A month full of contrasts – the departure of my dear father in law, followed by back to back business trips to Hawaii (one day after we said good bye) and Venezuela. March was for sure a month that changed my life.</div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>April 2010 - Brazil</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">April was my first trip to Brazil for the year and the beginning of an exhausting project that left me with an unidentified finger wound, 10 additional pounds and lots of Portuguese words in me!</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5gAFOLlnI/AAAAAAAAASA/_NoBezQyY_Y/s1600/L1000691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5gAFOLlnI/AAAAAAAAASA/_NoBezQyY_Y/s200/L1000691.JPG" width="200" /></a><strong>May 2010 – Welcome to Miami and an interleague baseball game in Philly</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Miami and its mojitos, Latin flavors, white sand and humidity followed by a weekend in Philly watching my beloved RedSox, an almost no-hitter by Dice-K and the streets of Philadelphia.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5hEbZUpPI/AAAAAAAAASE/H3asxLhS8ec/s1600/11-06-10_0955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5hEbZUpPI/AAAAAAAAASE/H3asxLhS8ec/s200/11-06-10_0955.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>June 2010 – Brazil for the World Cup</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Back to Brazil during the world cup, experiencing soccer the way Brazilians do…including the loss of the Brazilian national team against Holland.</div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5hczYTIEI/AAAAAAAAASI/ojwi0tohc2M/s1600/L1000798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5hczYTIEI/AAAAAAAAASI/ojwi0tohc2M/s200/L1000798.JPG" width="200" /></a><strong>July 2010 – in a New York state of mind</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">New York during restaurant week, drinks and music at Elaine’s, Sinatra’s musical “Come fly away”, Central Park walks and martinis to celebrate my husband's 40ed birthday – next day the world!</div></div><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>August 2010 – Panama City and Washington, D.C</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A quick business trip to Panama followed by a weekend in Washington for a baseball outing - the Cardinals and Pujols completed the night!</div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5i_uIDxEI/AAAAAAAAASQ/YkOzTCONq8c/s1600/30-09-10_2150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5i_uIDxEI/AAAAAAAAASQ/YkOzTCONq8c/s200/30-09-10_2150.jpg" width="150" /></a><strong>September 2010 – Colombia and its flavors</strong></div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">A new project in Bogota full of challenges, Andres D.C with a magical ambience and the last stretch of the 2010 baseball regular season.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5jzsELqeI/AAAAAAAAASU/HVmmd6N7g3o/s1600/edgarrenteria.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5jzsELqeI/AAAAAAAAASU/HVmmd6N7g3o/s200/edgarrenteria.jpg" width="126" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>October 2010 – Colombia and the World Series</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Second trip to Bogota in the middle of the Baseball World series, with the Giants and Edgar Renteria, “El Barranquillero”, winning and celebrating!! </div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><strong><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5kzrUhb0I/AAAAAAAAASc/6wcbHS5RjTs/s1600/L1010059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5kzrUhb0I/AAAAAAAAASc/6wcbHS5RjTs/s200/L1010059.JPG" width="150" /></a>November 2010 –Colombia and Venezuela</strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Back to back trips to Bogota and Caracas; no thanksgiving for me this year, but getting ready for an intense December!</div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5lVNpWvgI/AAAAAAAAASg/oGk2tSMhDUw/s1600/L1010186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5lVNpWvgI/AAAAAAAAASg/oGk2tSMhDUw/s200/L1010186.JPG" width="200" /></a><strong>December 2010 – Colombia and Christmas in Mexico</strong></div></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Final stretch of the Colombian project, a 20-year high school reunion full of surprises, friends and music, a 3-day Christmas celebration with tons of delicious multinational food, drinks, family, friends and karaoke! </div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">2011 seems promising; it is always interesting to know that we can start all over again with new and improved energy and positive attitude. We have the challenge of balancing: the reasoning side makes us feel the need to have goals, timelines, schedules, specific tasks and improvements that we MUST accomplish; our sensible side makes us dream, hope, feel and enjoy each moment, even the ones spent planning the near future. A very good and wise friend of mine said: </div></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong><em>“ I am seriously analyzing the convenience of adjusting my list of resolutions for new year; I am changing the title to “list of desires” and will flush every single thing representing a sacrifice. 2011: a year to pay homage to life. Enough said!”</em></strong></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong><br />
<em></em></strong></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And I am seriously joining her! 2011: a year to live fully, deeply, intensely…because 2012 may not be an option!</div></div></div></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div align="center" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5l1Ef2oZI/AAAAAAAAASk/Lr21X_IlQAg/s1600/L1010282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TR5l1Ef2oZI/AAAAAAAAASk/Lr21X_IlQAg/s200/L1010282.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>Happy New Year!!!</strong></div></div></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-23435787330804381812010-12-19T09:00:00.000-08:002010-12-19T09:00:47.719-08:00A motherly state of mind...a Magpie Tale<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ4ypyS8iRI/AAAAAAAAARE/3RCx4kVAjx0/s1600/mapgie+45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ4ypyS8iRI/AAAAAAAAARE/3RCx4kVAjx0/s320/mapgie+45.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>What is the secret behind a maternal embrace…do you have to be a mother to know? <br />
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The warmness of this place, the feeling of safeness, it marks us forever.<br />
A mother love is unconditional, is eternal and is grand…but do you have to be a mother to love like that? Does it come instinctively as an on/off switch you activate the moment of giving birth? <br />
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I see images of daily news with so called “mothers” neglecting their children, hurting them… using them…destroying them.<br />
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Looking back to my younger years, I was hugged, was loved…but also see me being alone…alone but safe. What a thin line there is between protecting with love and overprotecting with fear. <br />
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In my dreams I am a mom… in those dreams my children are perfect, smart, happy, healthy. Four girls and a boy – future leaders, ballerinas, baseball player. I feel them, smell them and something inside me grows like a hurricane so powerful that nothing could stop me. But they are not real; they are just in my head.<br />
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Do you have to be a mother to feel like one? Are there different levels of motherhood? Life has some mysterious ways of showing your path, of letting you know what your objective is. <br />
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Having a child must not be an obsession. It is not an obligation. We have the choice…do we? Do we really decide when and where? What drives our state of mind to make us find the right moment? Parenthood is a huge commitment, not a trophy, not a must do. Am I going to be a mother one day? The concept comes and goes. It gets clear then it vanishes again. Is not a matter of wanting or choosing… for me is a matter of believing and trusting.<br />
<br />
In my heart I am a mother… I am already one. I have five Goddaughters and one Godson…they are all perfect, smart, beautiful…future leaders? Baseball player? Ballerinas? It is all up to them. I know they are not mine… I know they can love me or not. I want to believe they feel the same way I do, that there is a bond somehow greater than simple blood; and who knows, maybe one day they will be sharing with their little brother and sisters, my future children, the same kind of love.<br />
<br />
<em>To my children...present and future.</em><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ40v7P5MBI/AAAAAAAAARM/DQhRl3eB2rk/s1600/n573092690_1618166_4455.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; height: 165px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 170px;"><img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ40v7P5MBI/AAAAAAAAARM/DQhRl3eB2rk/s200/n573092690_1618166_4455.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ41HbMA9uI/AAAAAAAAARU/DZM_ZuK-VdM/s1600/ryan_redsox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="cssfloat: left; height: 201px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 159px;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ41HbMA9uI/AAAAAAAAARU/DZM_ZuK-VdM/s200/ryan_redsox.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ40rep3DSI/AAAAAAAAARI/c0YawPtj0kk/s1600/mia%2526amy%2526nina3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="height: 162px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 130px;"><img border="0" height="162" n4="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ40rep3DSI/AAAAAAAAARI/c0YawPtj0kk/s200/mia%2526amy%2526nina3.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ41l5txTMI/AAAAAAAAARY/ewNRZX79mr4/s1600/DSC00299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="height: 174px; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; width: 335px;"><img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TQ41l5txTMI/AAAAAAAAARY/ewNRZX79mr4/s200/DSC00299.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><em>This is a Magpie tale - Mag 45 - for other Magpie tales click <a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2010/12/mag-45.html"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Magpie Tales</strong></span></a></em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-22654872639855458722010-12-07T06:29:00.000-08:002010-12-07T06:29:36.336-08:00For the first time...a Magpie Tale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TP5CuheKGNI/AAAAAAAAARA/zkIOCZ_M024/s1600/magpie43.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JgQ70Hjdbcg/TP5CuheKGNI/AAAAAAAAARA/zkIOCZ_M024/s320/magpie43.jpg" width="214" /></a></div>It was a Christmas Season, a week ahead planned<br />
A family getaway, a log cabin in Pine Top.<br />
<br />
The place was quaint and cozy, pine trees and a frozen lake<br />
And then one day after arrival, snow was falling<br />
…for the first time.<br />
<br />
A white morning awaited, the kids excited rushed out to play<br />
It was fantastic to watch all the cousins<br />
…including the one and only Verdell.<br />
<br />
Verdell geared up with purple jacket and snow boots<br />
… all four of them<br />
Like a precious ballerina, skipping his way towards the lake.<br />
<br />
Inside the cabin a non-stop fire, embracing us all <br />
Don Luis telling his stories, Christmas related…scary as well<br />
Wearing brown sleepers and drinking good coffee<br />
…freshly brewed, no sugar, just plain.<br />
<br />
It was a holiday to remember... a Christmas away; <br />
The family together, with no rush or other commitment<br />
Than enjoying the moment<br />
…for the first time.<br />
<br />
Don Luis is the glue that sticks us together<br />
Our cornerstone, our guide, our center.<br />
Year after year preparing his Cod fish and special tamales<br />
Year after year sharing his peace and love<br />
Teaching us lessons with a single saying<br />
<br />
This year will be different<br />
This year he is no longer here<br />
A December that is starting to feel strange.<br />
A Christmas without his physical presence<br />
Without his hugs and “God Bless you”<br />
…for the first time.<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>“Aquí vino...</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>y se fue</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>Vino, nos marco nuestra tarea</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>y se fue.</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>…Aquí vino</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>y se fue</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>Vino, lleno nuestra caja de caudales</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>con millones de siglos y de siglos.</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>nos dejó unas herramientas...</strong></em></div><div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong>y se fue.” Leon Felipe</strong></em></div><br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><em>For you my love, for us. It hurts, it hurts a lot.</em></div><br />
<em>This is a Magpie tale - Mag 43 - for other Magpie tales click </em><a href="http://magpietales.blogspot.com/2010/12/mag-43.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong><span style="color: #bf0506;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">Magpie tales</span></em></span></strong></span></a>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-423538426889712284.post-59490003346971251722010-12-01T23:35:00.000-08:002010-12-01T23:35:50.280-08:00Life according to me, lesson 32<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">There are moments in life where you want to feel that your day was worth living... other times you want to share and be there...but sometimes you just want to have a nice glass of wine in the middle of the week and say: who cares!! Not only is valid...is necessary.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Arial','sans-serif'; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://castazero.blogspot.com/2010/11/life-according-to-me-lesson-31.html"><strong>Life according to me, lesson 31</strong></a></span></div>OJ Gonzalez-Cazareshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02163055706274656012noreply@blogger.com11