Quiet night in San Francisco. Just me and Los Piojos. I gave up the fuzzy sweater for a bright orange Holland jacket earlier today. I shared the future life plans, he shared the story of Aimee's trip to Nashville. We walked about 3 miles to grab Argentinean empanadas. I wanted a piece of home and some peace away from the drunken calamities of the previous night.
We also talked about me sneaking back in through Canada. The future cannot come soon enough.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Morning walk
"Where else am I supposed to walk? There's no sidewalk!"
I suspect that, at that moment, his aviator glasses hid a dumbfounded gaze, as if he had been caught being the human representation of an irrational situation. I could not be blamed for using that 3-feet long median as my walkway if there was no other option.
"Well, just be careful then."
As the Berkeley policeman drove off, I kept on walking in the median, much to the amazed look of many drivers who stared at me as if I had been a previously unknown specimen, a rare walking creature interrupting the monopoly of engines and asphalt, a pedestrian in the bridge connecting the city and the marina.
I assume not a lot of people walk from the Berkeley Marina to the UC campus. I missed the three half-full 51's during my 50-minute morning walk.
I am here until Sunday.
I suspect that, at that moment, his aviator glasses hid a dumbfounded gaze, as if he had been caught being the human representation of an irrational situation. I could not be blamed for using that 3-feet long median as my walkway if there was no other option.
"Well, just be careful then."
As the Berkeley policeman drove off, I kept on walking in the median, much to the amazed look of many drivers who stared at me as if I had been a previously unknown specimen, a rare walking creature interrupting the monopoly of engines and asphalt, a pedestrian in the bridge connecting the city and the marina.
I assume not a lot of people walk from the Berkeley Marina to the UC campus. I missed the three half-full 51's during my 50-minute morning walk.
I am here until Sunday.
The only advice I can give you
Today I am debuting a new section called "The only advice I can give you". This will be a recurring list of life-changing wisdom
The only advice I can give you is...
Do not assume that when you buy a 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner it actually get the job done. Shampooing and conditioning are two very different skills, each needing a specialist for its assigned duty.
Now go on and be fruitful.
The only advice I can give you is...
Do not assume that when you buy a 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner it actually get the job done. Shampooing and conditioning are two very different skills, each needing a specialist for its assigned duty.
Now go on and be fruitful.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
The Times
Miguel texted me at 6AM saying I looked cute on the newspaper. The online edition did not put the picture up, but the article reads well and presents a different story.
I will have a stronger IDEAS post up soon. Here's the link: A degree of anxiety.
Cheers to the underground undergrads!
I will have a stronger IDEAS post up soon. Here's the link: A degree of anxiety.
Cheers to the underground undergrads!
The Joker
It was our tribute to Heath Ledger. And a great accessory for the Gentlemen Pad in the Valley. That bus stop won't miss it, and the movie is going to have a great opening weekend anyway.
Fun times.
Monday, July 07, 2008
Jehova and Gandhi
This was the inscription in my graduation frame:
Mati*s Nicol*s Ram*s Goralcz*k
Graduación, Universidad de California Los Angeles, Junio 2008
Porque Jehová da la sabiduría, y de su boca viene el conocimiento y la inteligencia.
-Proverbios 2:6
Sé el cambio que quieras ver en el mundo.
-Mahatma Gandhi
I chose the proverb because that's my favorite book in the Christian Bible. What I mean by the Lord giving me, as a student, my wisdom, knowledge, and intelligence (if I have any), is that he put my parents in place. I have no way of knowing so, but if they consider me and my siblings a gift to them, I still have no way to prove they were not a gift to me. The Gandhi quote serves to add a social justice front to the inscription, and to break the Western monotony.
The frames themselves included a wallet size picture, a Royce Hall postcard, and the inscription. La Abuela Lucía is delivering them. Her flight back to Buenos Aires leaves tomorrow.
Mati*s Nicol*s Ram*s Goralcz*k
Graduación, Universidad de California Los Angeles, Junio 2008
Porque Jehová da la sabiduría, y de su boca viene el conocimiento y la inteligencia.
-Proverbios 2:6
Sé el cambio que quieras ver en el mundo.
-Mahatma Gandhi
I chose the proverb because that's my favorite book in the Christian Bible. What I mean by the Lord giving me, as a student, my wisdom, knowledge, and intelligence (if I have any), is that he put my parents in place. I have no way of knowing so, but if they consider me and my siblings a gift to them, I still have no way to prove they were not a gift to me. The Gandhi quote serves to add a social justice front to the inscription, and to break the Western monotony.
The frames themselves included a wallet size picture, a Royce Hall postcard, and the inscription. La Abuela Lucía is delivering them. Her flight back to Buenos Aires leaves tomorrow.
Anaheim
I should have been friends with those guys.
The whole moment symbolized our high school years. I got there late, and they had been playing for a while. As they played cards, I sat right outside of their game, watching it unfold and having the insider's perspective through Ben's cards. The conversation was, for the most part, cordialities about experiences and future plans.
Ben, a freelance writer with law school plans, remains an odd friend of mine and someone who always offered a good vibe. His oddity is a joy to get to know, from the appreciation for obscure sports and rock bands to his keen, almost gimicky idealism represented in shoes, pants, and political savvy.
Mark, Jimmy, and Byron are those guys I always knew but never got to know. The type of Asian males that I had, at one point in my life, seen as not much more than the brainy-type. But as they taught me their card game, I thought that the four years in between high school graduation and tonight taught us to put aside model minority myths and other assumptions.
Mark is going from Cal State Fullerton to two years of non-profit work in Vietnam. Jimmy is coming back from Berkeley to a consulting job in Downtown LA. Byron is leaving the Michigan cold and embracing the warmth of UCLA Law School. Ben is still going to be writing around San Francisco.
I don't think they understood the magnitude of my decision to go back to Argentina. What else could be more normal than a return trip to the place of one's birth? So, to those that always expected me back, and those who witnessed me wallowing around in Loara High School, this trip is not earth-shattering.
Those who I love most have had the harder time so far. But people understand. I'm off to reinvent myself and when I come back things won't be the same. But maybe they will be like tonight. I think they might be better.
The whole moment symbolized our high school years. I got there late, and they had been playing for a while. As they played cards, I sat right outside of their game, watching it unfold and having the insider's perspective through Ben's cards. The conversation was, for the most part, cordialities about experiences and future plans.
Ben, a freelance writer with law school plans, remains an odd friend of mine and someone who always offered a good vibe. His oddity is a joy to get to know, from the appreciation for obscure sports and rock bands to his keen, almost gimicky idealism represented in shoes, pants, and political savvy.
Mark, Jimmy, and Byron are those guys I always knew but never got to know. The type of Asian males that I had, at one point in my life, seen as not much more than the brainy-type. But as they taught me their card game, I thought that the four years in between high school graduation and tonight taught us to put aside model minority myths and other assumptions.
Mark is going from Cal State Fullerton to two years of non-profit work in Vietnam. Jimmy is coming back from Berkeley to a consulting job in Downtown LA. Byron is leaving the Michigan cold and embracing the warmth of UCLA Law School. Ben is still going to be writing around San Francisco.
I don't think they understood the magnitude of my decision to go back to Argentina. What else could be more normal than a return trip to the place of one's birth? So, to those that always expected me back, and those who witnessed me wallowing around in Loara High School, this trip is not earth-shattering.
Those who I love most have had the harder time so far. But people understand. I'm off to reinvent myself and when I come back things won't be the same. But maybe they will be like tonight. I think they might be better.
Friday, July 04, 2008
If North Were South
Some thoughts:
- This song is still incredible relevant 12 years after its release. In fact, I think this song will outlast me.
- It would be interesting if someone with an affinity for songwriting had an inspiration for "If West Were East". I assume it would have to be written in Arabic or Farsi.
-My favorite line: "Y si la deuda externa nos robó la primavera, Al diablo la geografía se acabaron las fronteras..."
Las Barras y Las Estrellas
Hoy es cuatro de julio, día de la independencia de los Estados Unidos.
Sentado en el balcón de casa, me puse a pensar que tipo de significado, si es que existe, tiene la fecha para la gente de este barrio. Encrustados en el medio de una de las ciudades mas anglosajonas del condado de Orange, aproximadamente 300 familias viven en el barrio de Cinnamon Tree. La mayoría tiene sus condominios apretujados, y los menos pudientes ocupan departamentos apretujados.
Me senté un rato en el balcón porque adentro me sentí, también, apretujado, aunque la casa estaba semi-vacía. Facundo había desaparecido con amigos a Los Angeles, y mis padres compartían una rutinaria actividad eclesiástica en Anaheim. La abuela dormía una siesta bonaerense importada, y Sophia se unía a los millones de jóvenes y niños (yo incluído) que dejaban pasar la vida mirando un monitor.
Lo único que se escuchaba eran los pajaros y el ventilador. Había apagado el celular para que no interrupiera el silencio de la tarde y seguía pensando en eso del cuatro de julio.
En Placentia no se notaba mucho la diferencia porque las barras y las estrellas flameaban en las avenidas todo el año. En este tipo de suburbio el patriotismo vacío y privilegiado se derrochaba facilmente. Pero la gente de Cinnamon Tree era la excepción. No había mucha identidad para esta comunidad Latina aislada, y el dia de la independencia también iba a pasar desapercibido.
Los ricos lo ignoraban por exageración y los pobres se esmeraban en ignorarlo. Ningún hecho político de hace 232 años atrás podía importar hoy, porque hacía mucho calor, el gas estaba muy caro, y mañana hay que trabajar porque sino quién paga las cuentas.
Aí se fue desapercibido el cuatro de julio.
Sentado en el balcón de casa, me puse a pensar que tipo de significado, si es que existe, tiene la fecha para la gente de este barrio. Encrustados en el medio de una de las ciudades mas anglosajonas del condado de Orange, aproximadamente 300 familias viven en el barrio de Cinnamon Tree. La mayoría tiene sus condominios apretujados, y los menos pudientes ocupan departamentos apretujados.
Me senté un rato en el balcón porque adentro me sentí, también, apretujado, aunque la casa estaba semi-vacía. Facundo había desaparecido con amigos a Los Angeles, y mis padres compartían una rutinaria actividad eclesiástica en Anaheim. La abuela dormía una siesta bonaerense importada, y Sophia se unía a los millones de jóvenes y niños (yo incluído) que dejaban pasar la vida mirando un monitor.
Lo único que se escuchaba eran los pajaros y el ventilador. Había apagado el celular para que no interrupiera el silencio de la tarde y seguía pensando en eso del cuatro de julio.
En Placentia no se notaba mucho la diferencia porque las barras y las estrellas flameaban en las avenidas todo el año. En este tipo de suburbio el patriotismo vacío y privilegiado se derrochaba facilmente. Pero la gente de Cinnamon Tree era la excepción. No había mucha identidad para esta comunidad Latina aislada, y el dia de la independencia también iba a pasar desapercibido.
Los ricos lo ignoraban por exageración y los pobres se esmeraban en ignorarlo. Ningún hecho político de hace 232 años atrás podía importar hoy, porque hacía mucho calor, el gas estaba muy caro, y mañana hay que trabajar porque sino quién paga las cuentas.
Aí se fue desapercibido el cuatro de julio.
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