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

Beans, a dangerous food

Beans are so dangerous. Why? Imagine you just ate the little suckers. A couple of hours later you attend a public gathering (movie theater, social gathering, etc.) The beans have now been digested and these frijoles create a kind of pressure in your belly that can only be done away with by the realeasing of gas. What to do? Some people save themselves the embarassment and avoid any risk of public humiliation by taking some time to go to a public restroom and relieving themselves. Others think, "It doesn't feel like it'll be such a deal, maybe I can just do away with it here." There are three different possible outcomes to this choice.
1. There is no sound, but a terrible stench impregnates the room making everybody think or even say, "Eww, who was that!" which will bring you some embarrassment by knowing that you are the cause of such discomfort, but no greater harm is caused.
2. There is sound, but no smell. People far away from you hear it and laugh. People not so far away, but not so close either, turn to look at a person close to them on the side from which said sound originated from. People close to you know it is you, but say nothing since they figure the embarassment is enough punishment for such a public disturbance. You are ashamed and think that the people closest to you now think you are a dirty person.
3. There is sound and a stench. Similar to outcome two except the people closest to you do not consider your embarassment as they exclaim in a loud voice, "Oh my goodness (insert name here)! That was gross! That was awful!" or "Wow (name), that burrito really did some damage!" etc. They make it clear who is the perpetrator and single you out as a public threat. The moment goes down in personal history as the most humiliating experience of your life.

All this I draw from personal experience. Not only have I been the perpetrator, but I've also been in the presence of such an act. In any case we are all victims of the bean.

Arrr

"ARR!" exclaimed the pirate, as he looked over a stack of envelopes. He picked up one with "PIG Inc." written at the top. He stares at it for a while then finally rips the edge and takes out two folded papers. His eyes run across the paper as he reads, "Dear Mr. Vanderhosen. After careful consideration of your case, the board of members has unanimously agreed to void your account with Preventive Insurance Group Inc. We appreciate the business you have given us for these past 10 years, but unfortunately we have the end the association as of April 30th. Inclosed is your bill for the last insured quarter which is due by April 10th. Sincerely, Mr. Jeremy Smith. Director of the Board."

He looks at the second paper and his face turns red. His hands start shaking and suddenly he rips the papers into pieces. He throws them on the floor, spits on them and jumps on them, stomping them to mush. "ARR!" he yells one last time as leaves the room and slams the door behind him.

This was so difficult...

because I have lots of favorites.

1. Pick 20 of your favorite movies.
2. Go to IMDB, find a quote from each movie.
3. Post them in a note for everyone to guess. [via comment]
4. Strike it out when someone guesses correctly, and put who guessed it and the movie.
5. NO GOOGLING/using IMDB search functions. That's cheating and it ruins the fun.

1. If you speak my name, I vanish. What am I? Silence (Life is Beautiful via Genevieve)
2. “Tell me, do you know a guy called Mario who lives around here?” “There are a thousand Marios around here.” “Yes, but this one is a thief.” “There are still a thousand.”
3. Beggar: Sorry madam, I don't work on Sundays.
4. [P] was right all along. [CM] was fired on a Saturday. (The Chorus via Genevieve)
5. One minute you're defending the whole galaxy, and, suddenly, you find yourself sucking down Darjeeling with... Marie Antoinette and her little sister.
6. Now the snarfblatt dates back to prehysterical times when humans used to sit around and stare at each other all day. Got very boring. So they invented this snarfblatt to make fine music. (The Little Mermaid via Grandma)
7. What do you want me to do, dress in drag and do the hula? (The Lion King via Genevieve)
8. Oh... That's nice. Ash on my tomatoes!
9. I killed a man... with this thumb. (Ratatouille via Becca)
10. Oh, by the way. When in doubt, I find retracing my steps to be a wise place to begin. Good luck.
11. I'd like to thank you all for coming to my wedding. But first I'd better go in there and propose to the girl. (The Beauty and the Beast via Genevieve)
12. One family reunion comin' right up. (Mulan via Genevieve)
13. Ya can't rush art.
14. John, get ready to have some kids! (Wall-E via Genevieve)
15. I don't believe it... Bruce Willis is a ghost! (50 First Dates via Grandma)
16. He won't sit back in his chair for fear of setting wrinkles in his shirt. (The Village via Genevieve)
17. I don't know if you're aware of this, Josephine, but African parrots, in their native home of the Congo, they speak only French. You're lucky to get four words out of them in English, but if you were to walk through the jungle, you'd hear them speaking the most elaborate French.
18. Life is worth the scary parts.
19. [“They're gonna kill themselves... wanna watch?” “Yeah, all right.”]/ [“We'll either die free… or we die trying.” ”Are those the only choices?”] (Chicken Run via Genevieve)
20. When a poor man eats a chicken, one of them is sick.

Why I think it is so darn good!

So during a French movie watching thing we had going on (because of me), the roomies and I watched a movie called Le Fils or The Son. Nobody liked it except me. Becca and Genevieve were thinking, "What is this crap of a movie!" I couldn't find the words to defend it (because I'm Mexcian...jk), and after writing a review on it for my French & Italian Cinema class (FREN/ITAL 217), I think I can finally present my case. I don't think the review I wrote completely or most adequately represents what I think of the film or why I liked it, but it's better than nothing.

Le Fils (France., 2002)
From the very beginning, the main character Olivier shows a strong interest in a boy. The reason for this interest is not known until it is revealed by Olivier’s ex-wife and mother of their late son. The film presents the simple yet complicated story of a man meeting and interacting with his son’s murderer. Unlike the killers presented in other films, the murderer is another boy and not a typical troubled or malevolent man. She asks Olivier a question which any good viewer would ask; why has he taken in Francis? What are his intentions? A long pause later I find out that he doesn’t know either.
I was eager to know as well why Olivier easily interacted with Francis. It hit me at some point that Olivier had an unsatisfied curiosity about the character of his son’s killer. He had questions for him which I asked myself as well; why did he kill the boy? How does he feel about it? How is it possible for a child to become a murderer? There are so many reasons that come to mind but the Dardenne brothers show how it may be less complicated than one thinks.
The Dardennes amazingly step away from the much exploited theme of revenge and instead present a story of forgiveness through an untraditional style of film. Olivier Gourmet’s acting was very simple and neutral which was a necessary balance for the emotionally charged situation. Any emotional expression could have been too much.
The same goes for Morgan Marinne who plays Francis. There was little or no emotional expression from his part as well. Both characters expressed neutrality, from their looks, movements, and voice. In the film, Francis says that it’s a shame that he spend five years in prison, but he doesn’t realize what he’s done. It occupies his mind and he feels guilty about it, but he doesn’t fully understand the impact this had on another person, the boy’s father.
The Dardenne brothers do an incredible job with Le Fils of portraying exceptional circumstances in such a simple way that makes the whole story believable. The simplicity of the film’s presentation is one of the many aspects that empower it. Jean- Pierre and Luc Dardenne’s choice of style and actors is another credit to them. The actors appropriately bring to life two characters that are terribly lonely; each troubled by a death. However, the death of Olivier’s son unexpectedly brings together the father and his killer who then becomes a son.

And there you have it. I later talked to my professor about it and he pointed out how it has strong Christian symbolisms and undertone like the fact that Olivier is a carpenter, and the whole story revolves around sin and forgiveness. He also mentioned how the movie poster is symbolic for Christ bearing the cross. Christ bears that burden and Francis bears the burden of had taken someone's life. I found a separate review on the film and I liked this particular paragraph.

“Now you must absolutely stop reading and go see the film. Walk out of the house today, tonight, and see it, if you are open to simplicity, depth, maturity, silence, in a film that sounds in the echo-chambers of the heart. "The Son" is a great film. If you find you cannot respond to it, that is the degree to which you have room to grow. I am not being arrogant; I grew during this film. It taught me things about the cinema I did not know.”
-Roger Ebert

Rotten Tomatoes gave it an 88% on the Tomatometer and the consensus was "Austere, finely crafted, and compelling."

I realize it is a tough movie to watch, but it was worth it. At least for me it was.