Reaping Rewards

You know how it is when you get an idea or thought in your head, and you say to yourself, "It would be cool if that ever happened to me." Well it actually happened to me!

I actually paid attention to and clicked on a banner ad on Facebook which read, "BYU Meal Plan Video Contest" and it had a picture of a film-type guy with the words, "Win an iPad!" (or something like that.) I don't recall the exact wording of the description.

Anyways, I click on the link which takes me to all the information with regards to the contest. I decide that it's doable, if only I had a good idea, because if I've learned anything about making videos, it's all about the idea, concept, or story. If that's no good, don't even make the video. It's like Thumper says, "If you don't have anything good to say, don't say anything at all." Same idea applies to film/video making in my opinion. So great opportunity in front of me, I simply lacked a good idea.

It's funny how most of the time we as college students think to ourselves that this college education will someday be worth it (if it doesn't feel as such at the moment.) We may also feel like we're not becoming adequate for what's ahead of us. I had been feeling like that for quite some time: an overwhelming sense of inadequacy. In any case, when such feelings arise I say to myself, "What else can I do but keep trying... right?" *confidence slowly receding throughout the thought.

One day... or should I say night, my evening film class was coming to an end. It is called Media Arts Topics (I think), focusing on what makes films great. Each week we look at a certain aspect of film that can make a great film. The professor for this class (Dean Duncan) felt it was best to show this through several short films. That week the topic was THINGS... focusing on the benefit that the use of materials brings to film. Material world, materialistic person, and other terms have a sort of negative feel to them. It makes sense how they could be considered a possible evils, but that is not always the case. What about that small box of knick-knacks that one keeps safeguarded as a priceless treasure with each object housing a valuable memory? I can't make his lecture adequate justice in this short blog post, but you can hopefully sense the idea of where he was going with this. One of the many films he showed us was Toccata for Toy Trains. It was then that I received the much desired idea for my video.

What should the video be about? Food! How was I going to focus on it?-by showing the process by which it is made. I'm sure the BYU Meal Plans' big thing is that it makes food readily available for you in the place where you typically spend most of your time, on campus. People make you food, and a Meal Plan takes care of getting that food to you. However, what if none of this existed? What would be the impossible ideal?-food that makes itself, and THAT was my BIG idea.

I proceeded to make the video by taking many many pictures and putting them together, adding music, and tweaking the visuals. Behold the result:



...and yes I did win the iPad.

Feeling of inadequacy? Considerably diminished, but never extinguished. In a way it's a good thing, it keeps us humble....right?

Celebration of Humanity, Remembrance of Mortality

I recently came across an article online at LDS Living about celebrating Halloween on Sundays. I've commented so much and I'd like to keep a record of what I wrote hence this blog, but I hope others will find it interesting as well and have something to comment. Below is the link to the article followed by my remarks.

How to Celebrate Halloween on a Sunday

Article of Faith #11
"We claim the privilege of worshiping Almighty God according to the dictates of our own conscience, and allow all men the same privilege, let them worship how, where, or what they may."

"There are rules that the Church leadership resists interpreting for us.
For keeping the sabbath day holy, we are expected to decide in our own family precisely how we go about obeying that commandment, and people draw the line in different places." For instance, working on Sundays, how many Saints work at the Church's own TV and radio stations? Or how many students are needed to work on Sundays to feed the missionaries in the MTC? Then of course, that's out of necessity.

Maybe you feel the need to celebrate Halloween with your family, this article and those who've commented have given great suggestions in finding that balance between keeping the sabbath day holy and celebrating Halloween with family. Watching a movie is not holier than trick-o-treating, but for some it doesn't interrupt the observance of the sabbath day. This is one of those instances where people draw the line in different places. The movies listed (Hocus Pocus, Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Warerabbit, etc.) are family Halloween-themed movies and not a suspenseful thriller which some might prefer for the occasion. Also I'd like to point out that the sabbath day was made for man, not man for the sabbath.

One might think that celebrating Halloween is not appropriate for the occasion since it celebrates or follows pagan beliefs. What about Christmas? Sure it's meant to celebrate Christ's birth, but it was adjusted for pagan beliefs, otherwise it would be celebrated in April which is when Christ's birth took place, not in December. Why not inject Halloween with our own beliefs? Sure, have fun and trick-o-treat, but you can also make it more than day of candy and all things spooky by teaching about... death and the resurrection?

Some feel that Halloween is a celebration of evil things; witches, vampires, zombies, etc. I took a horror film class recently and I learned for myself that vampires, zombies and such are not evils, they are simply a reflection of human fears. Some have twisted this reflection to portray evil, but it's not inherently so.

As a Hispanic, Day of the Dead is the equivalent. Growing up in the U.S. we trick-o-treated on Halloween and dressed up. I knew Dia de los Muertos was coming around when my dad would bring some bread of the dead or pan de muerto, but that's as far as it went with that Mexican holiday and I think it was mostly because of where we lived. We didn't make sugar skulls and shrines for our loved ones who had passed. We didn't visit their tombs since the few relatives who had passed lived across the border several miles away. I know little about Dia de los Muertos and I haven't fully experienced it, so it is a goal I have for the future (maybe starting this year) to learn about it and celebrate it. Going with the article's discussion, I see this day as an opportunity to learn that death is a temporary condition that is overcome thanks to Christ's atonement. If that isn't holy enough, I don't know what is.

Seducción y Pasión española

Maja
Aroma de seducción. Pasión española.

This roughly translates to "Aroma of seduction. Spanish passion." It's a talcum powder I now wear instead of deodorant since this summer. It takes longer to put on, but it lasts longer and smells better. I haven't felt seductive at all lately, but I have been feeling rather passionate about many things Spanish but I'm sure that's not a result of my using the fragrant powder.

I've always loved the music typical to Spain, but I never bothered to learn more about it or acquire some. Now, I'm bent on soon obtaining some Cante Flamenco music, which could be described as Flamenco with a Gypsy feel to it. I often pretend to know how to play this kind of music on my guitar, but I only go as far as two chords.

I've also wanted to put up a picture/poster/drawing that best represents this style. I found the previous picture, but it's rather small. I'm determined to draw or paint something similar soon. For now, the cover of Pedro Almodóvar's film Volver with Penélope Cruz on the cover should suffice.

It now all seems too much of a coincidence that my dear friend Sydnee Wilson was called on an LDS Mission to Madrid, Spain. I recall attending with Sydnee the first day of her Spanish Literature class. The professor went over an early form of Spanish literature which was called Jarchas and other terms which I do not recall. I DO remember that these poems and the Spanish language in general was highly influenced by Hebrew and Arabic. I knew there was some Arabic mixture in Spain, but Hebrew? Now certain words and the "J" sound make much more sense! We also read some poems along with the modern Spanish translation. Oh how beautiful! They were both romantic and tragic. She then played an audio clip of one of these poems being sung. Again, very beautiful. I lack the words to properly describe it.



I think the above example (the first song) best represents what I heard in that class. The below one is basically a flamenco song which I'm sure was influenced by the previous style.




I should definitely get over my phobia of heights, and take up my dad's offer to visit Spain and Italy in the near future. The architecture also gives me a je ne se quois feeling (French to describe something Spanish? I know.) so being there in person would also be something worth sacrificing for. Who knows, maybe I'll bump into handsome Spanish footballer Xavi Hernandez who I might add is a World Cup Champion! (to my unknowing friends, footballer=soccer player).

Basically, I'm feeling rather Spanish lately, and why not? Some of my ancestors are from Spain so it's basically in my blood to love all things Spanish... including handsome footballers. What can I say, I've been seduced by Spanish passion!

Nostalgia for Bliss

This past summer, I had the opportunity of accompanying my dad to help my grandmother move to a different city. She was moving from the small agricultural town of Caborca, Sonora to the big industrial city that is Monterrey, N.L. (both in Mexico.) As soon as we arrived, I new this was going to be a big change not only physically, but emotionally. My grandmother had lived there since the 70s, and I had visited her in that house for many summers of my childhood. As furniture was stripped bare of its decorations, I began to realize that this was going to be my last time in that house for many years to come. It would never be the same again. The house was being rented so it would stay in the family, but visits were guaranteed to diminish.

Nostalgia was inevitable. There were so many memories attached to my grandmother's house, and with memories come feelings. Once as a little girl, I played a wonderful game of hide-and-seek with my brothers and cousins. All the plants surrounding that house gave great cover. In order to trick the seeker, we would take unripened oranges from my grandmother's tree and throw it on the opposite direction. How much trouble we were in when she found out. Even after that we kept playing. We played until one of my younger brothers accidentally threw an empty glass beer bottle in my head. Oh how furious I was then, and how I laugh at it now. Regardless, it is a memory that has stayed with me since; it is my definition of bliss.

The inside of the house is filled with just as many memories, if not more. We would receive many crates of grapes from the farm my grandmother worked for. Green grapes, dark grapes, big red grapes, all very sweet and delicious. My grandmother would cook a wide variety of delicious dishes which at times in my childhood I would not want since it looked weird, but would enjoy immensely as I got over such childish things. She had many photo albums of black and white or sepia photos of past family members, and some less older color photos of my once young father. The photo collection grew as did the family.

Now my cousins have moved on to bigger things. Everything and everyone else was different, but my grandmother's house remained unchanged. It's as if time passed along without as much as a glance. The only way one might have a clue of time's passage is the garden. Even though the trees are most likely taller and some plants are different, the garden looks the same; green and lush as ever- an oasis in the dessert.

Why do people go on honeymoons?

Another interesting question and answer from the book More Big Book of Tell Me Why: Answers to Hundreds of Questions Children Ask.

"Why do people go on honeymoons?

In very ancient times, a bridegroom had to "capture" his bride. He then would have to hide someplace with her until her relatives or tribespeople grew tired of searching for her. It is believed that the honeymoon developed as a symbol of what took place in those days.

So, to some extent, people still go on honeymoons because it is the traditional thing to do, just as they do many other "symbolic" things connected with marriage.

But newly married people enjoy going on a honeymoon because it gives them a chance to get to know each other intimately, and relate to each other. It is ideally spent in a place and atmosphere far from the bothers or problems of workaday life."

Hmm...

Questions Children Ask

Question: "Why do we sometimes feel that nobody loves us?"

Answer: "Because sometimes nobody does..."

Ouch?

"....-- at least, in the way we want to be loved."

Darn.

-Leokum, Arkady. More Big Book of Tell Me Why: Answers to Hundreds of Questions Children Ask. Marboro Books Corp. New York, 1996. p148.

Cats AND Heat... not in.

Sometime around the Christmas break of 2008, a female cat appeared outside our house. One of my brothers fed her and she hasn't left since. Around April 09, we washed her and took her inside so that she could give birth to her kittens. She had 3, none of which are still with us. We gave 1 away, while the other two are presumed dead (they disappeared).

One year later, the cat had three more kittens. Unlike last time however, she gave birth outside our home. At first no one knew where they were but we new they existed since the cat was no longer... big. Her three kittens were discovered in our backyard. They run away as soon as I get close, although human-cat relations are improving. I secretly want to wash them and bring them inside, so as to make them more people friendly thus making them desirable to cat lovers and give them away... far far away. Instead they are more on the wild side, and their hair-shedding does help. It's annoying.

This brings me to the second topic of this post. It's hot outside! Boiling temperatures! No joke! How a cat can give birth to three kittens in this weather and survive is beyond me. Alas, a mystery of nature.

P.S. The house's air conditioning system broke for a bit, but it's fixed now. It is in these times and temperatures that I'd have no qualms about snow in the middle of May.

Yo Soy Ardiente, Yo Soy Morena

Yo Soy Ardiente, Yo Soy Morena

Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer 1836-1870

Yo soy ardiente, yo soy morena,
Yo soy el símbolo de la pasión;
de ansia de goces mi alma está llena.
¿A mí me buscas? - No es a ti, no.

Mi frente es pálida; mis trenzas, de oro;
puedo brindarte dichas sin fin;
yo de ternura guardo un tesoro.
¿A mí me llamas? - No; no es a ti.

Yo soy un sueño, un imposible,
vano fantasma de niebla y luz;
soy incorpórea, soy intangible;
no puedo amarte. - ¡Oh, ven; ven tú!


I am fiery I am dark skinned

I am fiery, I am dark skinned
I am the symbol of passion;
With a hunger for pleasure my heart is full
Are you seeking me? “No, it’s not you I seek”

My face is pale, my tresses of gold
I regale you with never ending happiness
Of tenderness I hold a treasure trove
Are you calling me? “No it’s not you I call.”

I am a dream, an impossible
Vain phantasm of mist and light
I have no body, I am intangible
I cannot love you. “Oh, you, come, come!”

Soy Como Soy y Qué

(Translation below)

Raquel Valle-Sentíes

Soy flor injertada que no pegó.
Soy mexicana sin serlo.

Soy americana sin sentirlo.

La música de mi pueblo,

la que me llena,

los huapangos, las rancheras,

el Himno Nacional Mexicano

hacen que se me enchine el cuero,

que se me haga

un nudo en la garganta,

que bailen mis pies al compás,

pero siento como quien

se pone sombrero ajeno,

los mexicanos me miran

como diciendo,

"¡Tú no eres mexicana!"

El Himno Nacional de Estados Unidos

también hace que se me enchine el cuero,

que se me haga un nudo en la garganta.

Los gringos me miran

como diciendo,

"¡Tú no eres americana!"

Se me arruga el alma.

En mí no caben dos patrias

como no cabrían dos amores.

Desgraciadamente
no me siento ni de aquí ni de allá.

Ni suficientemente mexicana,

ni suficientemente americana.

Tendré que decir,
"Soy de la frontera,

de Laredo,

de un mundo extraño,

ni mexicano ni americano

donde al caer la tarde

el olor a fajitas asadas con mezquite

hace que se le haga a uno agua la boca,

donde en el cumpleaños lo mismo cantamos

el Happy Birthday que Las Mañanitas,

donde festejamos en grande

el nacimiento de Jorge Washington

¿quién sabe por qué?

donde a los foráneos

les entra culture shock cuando pisan Laredo

y podrán vivir cincuenta años aquí

y seguirán siendo foráneos,

donde en muchos lugares

la bandera verde, blanco y colorada

vuela orgullosamente al lado de la red,

white and blue."

Soy como el Río Grande,
una vez parte de México,

desplazada.

Soy como un títere

jalado por los hilos

de dos culturas que chocan entre sí.

Soy la mestiza, la pocha, la Tex-Mex,

la Mexican-American, la hyphenated,

la que sufre por no tener identidad propia

y lucha por encontrarla,

la que ya no quiere cerrar los ojos

a una realidad que golpea, que hiere,

la que no quiere andarse con tiento,

la que en Veracruz defendía a Estados Unidos

con uñas y dientes,

la que en Laredo defiende a México

con uñas y dientes.

Soy la contradicción andando.

En fin como Laredo,

soy como soy y qué.

.

.

I Am What I Am. So What?

I am a grafted flower that didn't take.
I am a Mexican without being one.
I am an American without feeling like one.

The music from Mexico,
the one that completes me,
the huapangos, the rancheras,
the Mexican National Anthem
give me goose bumps,
a lump in my throat
and make my feet tap to the beat,
but I feel like I'm wearing
a borrowed hat.
Mexicans look at me
as if saying,
"You're not Mexican!"

The "Star Spangled Banner"
also gives me goose bumps,
a lump in my throat.
Gringos look at me
as if saying,
"You're not American!"
My soul crumples.
My heart has no room for two countries
as it has no room for two lovers.

Unfortunately,
I belong neither here, nor there.
Not Mexican enough,
not American enough.

I'll have to say,
"I'm from the border,
from Laredo,

from a strange place
not Mexican nor American,
where at sunset
the smell of fajitas grilled over mesquite
makes my mouth water,
where at a birthday party we sing
Happy Birthday and Las Mañanitas,
where we greatly celebrate
George Washington's birthday
without knowing why,
where outsiders get culture shock
and can live here fifty years
and still be outsiders,
where in many places
the green, white and red flag
waves proudly alongside the red,
white and blue."

I'm like the Río Grande,
once a part of México
displaced.
I'm like a puppet
jerked by the strings
of two cultures that clash.
I'm la mestiza, la pocha, la Tex-Mex,
la Mexican-American, la hyphenated
who suffers for not having her own identity,
who no longer wants to close her eyes
to a reality that strikes her, that wounds her,
who no longer wants to bite her tongue,
who in Veracruz defended the United States
with tooth and nail,
who in Laredo defends México
with tooth and nail.

I'm the walking contradiction.
In other words like Laredo,
I am what I am. So what