A Magic Carpet

Trying to fly as high as I can. It's been a day full of promises, several job leads, one phone interview. How much would I love to ride on a magic carpet. Sweeping across the land. It's a strange world this one we are living. Speed is our new god. Acceleration is the highest virtue. It seems like that to me. We have gone insane. We are led to believe that whoever is slow or just takes his or her time will be left behind. I seldom feel I am rushing to nowhere. I crave an open green space where I can quietly sit with a book and a cup of tea. I read Arabian Nights when I was 7 or 8 and marveled about flying carpets. It would definitely be a cozy way to travel around.
I am a very visual individual, and I imagined to fly on a peacock blue Persian rug, what I later came to know as a birjan rug. Intricate patterns interwoven through thousands of silken threads. But isn't life like a magical flying carpet? You are the master weaver. You always carry your pattern with you. You have created this pattern, bit by bit, year after year. The colors are your joys, your tears, your epiphanies and your defeats. A weaver takes time to make a beautiful rug. Then why do we settle with a mass produced bland looking version of a magic carpet?

One morning at the Job Club

Merciful Heavens! I had a bit of a busy day today. I've joined a job club at my local church. It has proven to be quite good since you get support and help of other fellow unemployedlings. In this case 12 heads think better than one, mine. So your efforts in trying to land a job get multiplied by the ideas and feedback offered by others. This period of unemployment has been unprecedented in my life. It's goes beyond my economic situation. It's a feeling, strange as it is, that my soul is unemployed. Let me explain. This last year has been the most devastating year in my life. I lost my anchor in life, my mom, suddenly, without any kind of suspicion about her health. I found her lifeless in her apartment. I'm dealing with the loss in all ways that I can, still it hurts like nothing I have experienced before. Six months later, I made the decision to move to Texas with my brother. I needed to escape the loneliness I was feeling inside, I started to hate the very place I lived for so many years, as if it had something to do with her death.
I could not stand living in the island, maybe I was projecting my inner feelings and found Puerto Rico to be the cause of death both my mother's and my dreams. To some, probably many, it would seem childish to blame a country. Maybe I'm childish, who knows?But I cannot possibly tell you how isolated and hopeless I felt living in a place where I had very few friends left and where I did not relate to the beach culture of the Caribbean.
I saw an open door...Texas. And here I am . I do not know if it's going to be my last destination, but I'm trying my luck like everybody else.

At the job club I mentioned the fact that I was shy when it came to introduce myself to people I did not know. They look at me as if I was from planet Jupiter. Shy? Are you insecure or something? Someone asked. What am I suppose to answer? For some reason I saw the humor in it, it was a most impolite question, it put me on the spot...but it made me laugh at the impertinence of the woman that made the question. She reacted the same way someone would react to something that was disliked like a certain color or a certain type of music. Maybe I'm too Victorian or Edwardian about manners but I think this blabbermouth of a person was rude. I displayed my humble panache in answering...you mean this is not the Insecure Anonymous group?, then I stood up in mock confusion. They all laughed. I have to go into actor mode to overcome my social shyness. Of course it's based on insecurities....may I say a big and loud DUH!
So I'm discovering the New World all over again. Injecting colors and forms into my Self to reanimate my quest for true joy. Who wants to dance with me? What are you doing to inject passion into your life? I would love to know. Bunch of hugs and kisses to all, you are succulent people.


I had to buy these yellow roses, I saw them at the flower shop in Bloggyville, they remind me of frindship and luxury.

Hey, I'm just human.

I'm alive, thank you so much for sending me e-mails reminding me of how loving the blogging community really is. I've been semi-retired lately from writing due to a bout with depression. I often thought about writing but I could not commit my thoughts to the blog. I'm feeling better now and I'm planning to share the comings and goings of my personal landscape with all of you. I'm healing from this depression I just mentioned about. I am very idealistic, I think, and for that same reason I get disappointed by people and situations much too often. I know art, spirituality, colors, books and music can be healing agents too, so are flowers, sunsets and trees, and laughter, so I intend to keep on writing in spite of my depressive condition and unemployment. I beg you all forgiveness for abandoning my post during these hard times. Is good to be back. Love and Peace to all.


I put some red roses here to enjoy their beauty and perfume. I am a hopeless romantic at heart.

TV Wasteland

I've reached the point when I'm about to toss the TV set out of the window. Too bad it isn't my TV set. Michael Jackson is dying in front of us 24/7. I'm sorry he is dead. But I can't stand it anymore. It is a circus out there. Morbid curiosity is nothing new, but I am afraid to turn on the TV because all they are showing is revolting. All I see is reality shows featuring the most uncouth, selfish and narcissistic individuals on earth, followed by more reports on the death of MJ... I only feel safe watching Turner Classics and PBS. I might just as well stop watching TV and start to catch up on my netflix queue. To all TV programmers out there: If you give people JUNK all of the time they are going to get used to it and lower their own standards. Of course you know all about it, you want it to go thet way.

I need my Bach, my Chagall, my Thoreau, my Tagore to keep me sane these days.

A Rainbow of Possibilities

I just came back form the Million Gay March in Dallas. The heat was incredible, around 105 degrees. As I marched, I thought of all those who marched for equal rights for the last 40 years. Four decades ago riots broke in Greenwich Village, New York after a gay bar was raided by the police. This has been identified as the starting point for the struggle for equality for Gay, Lesbian, Bi-Sexual and transgendered people in the United States. The rainbow flag, symbol of the diversity in our community, was flying high and proud today. We are not celebrating our sexual identity or orientation. We celebrate the fact that we have chosen freedom over persecution, dignity over oppression and Love above all. May future generations never have to struggle and suffer in order to embrace who they really are, human beings, loving beings. I say Amen to that!

Suddenly This Summer.

Just came back from the library. I have been doing research on alternative career paths. To tell you the truth, it is actually a lot of fun. You must make a good assessment of your skills and your style of performing in the workplace. Is what they call a "holistic" assessment. The human mind is an amazing instrument. It can forget so easily. By thinking hard about all the tasks I have performed in my professional career and listing them I have made myself aware that I tend to forget how efficient and thorough I have been on my different jobs. Listing all my previous experiences and how I used my ability to analyze, synthesize, communicate made me feel better automatically. How could I have forgotten my ability to be tactful and diplomatic when explaining a difficult situation to my fellow co-workers.? How could I have forgotten about the time when I worked for two months successfully trying to sort out a contract dispute between photographers and a publishing company? I always felt I was handicapped because I have held more than 15 different jobs and because I speak English with a Spanish accent. These "handicaps" were hidden talents. On one hand I am highly adaptable to any job situation, on the other I have a unique bi-cultural perspective. How could I've been so blind?
I hope I can maintain the vision, the "I am a success" vision and not get sidetracked by dreadful comparisons to other people with different circumstances. Or sidetracked by the limiting impositions of my mind that expects to achieve, achieve and achieve without rhyme nor reason. Frustration should be seen as a pink flag ( we do not have red flags at the ranch) warning you to change your perspective in order to see the truth of the matter. In the meantime I breathe and do my homework.

Quietly, I cry

Damn Fear!!!! It has ruled my life, it has ruined my life, do not take me wrong, I am a courageous kind of guy. But fear, if I only understood you completely, if only I knew the antidote...It has been said time and time again that Love is the antidote.

Hail Love!!!! It has ruled my life, it has constructed my life, do not take me wrong, I am a courageous kind of guy. But Love, If I could only understood you completely, if only I knew how to make you appear in my life instantly....It has been said...

Mindful debates in times of financial desperation.

I want to scream, I am so frustrated. But I also want to sing and dance and laugh. And hug friends.

I am trembling with anxiety. I wish I could see my mother again. She died last year. I'll tell her all about my predicaments, my sorrows and my joys. Her loss is like a dagger through my heart. Yet, I believe in Love, in tenderness, in goodwill, in peace and in kindness. I do not have to understand everything, do I?

Pretzel, my dog, rushes up to me. In a swift move he jumps on my lap and starts licking up my teary cheeks.

This is my mountain and I' m climbing it

Hot wind blowing from the south, the heat index is at 105 degrees Fahrenheit in the fair city of Dallas, Texas. Have you ever stuck your head in the oven to see if the roast is ready.?It is that hot but no roast at sight. I decided to made some fresh salmon with pink mashed potatoes (just add a small amount of beets until it takes the exact hue of pink you desire.) It's one of those times when you have 7 books you want to read and cannot make your mind which one to read first. It is one of those times when you change your mind every other second. I have too much time on my hands, I guess. Something I would..oops the dog is throwing up, I must go.

OK, I'm back, the salmon is almost ready, I have yet to clean the rug with Pretzel's "return of food." But I must finish this brief post with a final thought, rather a quote from an unknown person, at least to me: If the mountain was smooth you couldn't climb it. So we all need friction, traction, good hiking boots, roughness and whole lotta faith if we going to get from here to there. I feel anxious, it is no use denying it. But I have chosen my path, up the mountain. I have never thought of myself conventional or even rational to tell the truth. But it is all about YOUR TRUTH, the one I discovered, the one that was revealed to me while I wandered through life. Yes, I live in the steep mountain. Sometimes I just get tired of the difficult climb, but the view from here is breathtaking, its majestic, glorious and full of Love.

Slippery Sleep

I have been sleeping all day long. I have a vivid imagination. So I have been fantasizing about living in a place where there is no unemployment and where people can earn their living by being creative and dynamic. Some people manage to live their dreams. I'm still trying to figure it out. The artist in me wants to come out permanently. But I keep pushing it back, afraid I will not be "good enough" to earn a living doing what I want. I'm being sincere. I wish I could resolve the paradoxical equation that is up in my mind. The world has always yelled "do what makes you happy" at me. The same world has also yelled "but you should choose a career that offers you stability and financial support." Today I feel I'm still 18 and trying to figure things out. But life is a funny business. It's complex and compromises must be made. Today I am oversleeping, not wanting to get up, I suppose. It's a temporary thing. My mind needs a little bit of rest and pampering. But I must get balance and structure back in my life soon. I would have never expected life was going to be like this when I was growing up. It seems to me that when I was younger I really thought life was something you earned as reward for your effort. I am little bit older now and I believe you are the creator of your life and as you create you are prone to make mistakes, have second thoughts and learn throughout the process. To nurture your wounded soul you need not to treat it as a little defenseless baby but as a human being that needs to filter out the negative and let the positive set in. I have been oversleeping today, like a little baby. It's time to call the architect within and get going with those blueprints.

Old Objects, New Life

Could anxiety be a trumpet sounding off for you to pay attention to the important and forget about unimportant details? Well I'm having a wind ensemble orchestra inside my head lately. It's just the Unemployment Jitterbug. This afternoon I watch a rerun of Antique Roadshow (PBS version) and got all inspired about finding more about all the little objet d'art I have collected inside my brain for the last 20+ years. I cannot possibly afford what I want. I do not even think if I had the money I would buy that many antiques. I am thrilled by the stories behind the objects. It's a little bit of an answer to the philosophical Ubi sunt? (Where are they?). Antiques are proof that the past existed, really existed and had function and aesthetics working together for the common good. An Émile Gallé vase, a Philadelphia highboy, a Hokusai woodblock print they all constitute a legacy of beauty or at least the search for beauty. I like simple elegance. It has nothing to do with status symbol. Elegance is a respite from the fast and furious pace of modernity. It is a streamlined marriage between function and form. Antiques remind me of this union. Quietly watching this show calm my anxieties because I am focusing on the ability of us human to create beauty and to present it as a higher accomplishment.

The League of Clueless Impulsive Superheroes

Well it is time to move on, or at least keep moving. I need some little pampering; better, I need creative healing. I went down to Michael's and bought myself a sketchbook, a set of Staedtler's fine liner markers in assorted colors, color pencils and a black fine tip sharpie. Yes, I can be THAT wild and reckless. I then went to Barnes & Nobles, (I always call it Darns & Bubbles, for no exact reason) and bought two books. One is the quintessential job hunting bible What Color Is Your Parachute? 2009 by Richard N. Bolles. I have read this book about four times since the early 80's. It is the best ever. It is a translator of skills. Let me explain, the book helps you identify and label skills you didn't know you even had. it is a true and reliable job hunting compass. It is the original morph book. You can easily morph into many rewarding careers using the skills and experience you already have. The other book I bought was Juicy Pens Thirsty Paper by SARK. I have been a fan of this succulent San Francisco based Artist/Writer/Philosopher/Woman that run with the wolves or just rides on the cable cars genius. I love her as if I knew her. This is a must to have if you want to re-energize your creative juices. Let them flow, baby! So I am drawing, reading, drinking more coffee than usual, walking with Pretzel and eating fruit (I just bought the most delicious nectarines in Whole Foods on Lemmon Ave. They tingled with sweetness, it was an erotic experience)
Later last night I went to Starbucks and sat with my quadruple shot latte with 19 Splendas (Yes. I am exaggerating.) Pull out my magic markers and started doodling. It occurred to me to call myself the Shameless Doodler. We need superheroes these days. So I became one. I started doodling left and right, choosing colors like a demon possessed Pollock. People stared, I could not care less, I was on a mission to save the planet. Extravagant doodles and swirls started to appear on the blank pages. Green lines intersecting turquoise stars. Little pink suns with brown sunglasses. Strange looking castles and sketchy acanthus leaves.
Suddenly the door opened, it was a vision to behold. A middle aged woman came in holding an oversize uncompleted afghan. She was wearing a shirt that said Fearless in fluorescent green letters. She sat down at a table and started to knit. It was no other than the Fearless Knitter a most needed super hero. I am not making this up, I swear. The superheroes started manifesting themselves. Soon enough Caffeine Java Man was making the rounds offering us little sips of caffé macchiato. The League of Clueless Impulsive Heroes came to be.
Life has its ups and downs. It always has and always will. I have suffered from anxiety and depression most of my life. I have been told time and time again that I am TOO sensitive. I tell them- "No!- I am MORE sensitive" If we really take time to listen to our inner selves we can really understand that we are unique individuals. It is useless and painful to compare yourself to others. You will suffer excessively if you define yourself by others. I just took my frustration dealing with the loss of a potential good job and transformed it to something positive and creative. Energy is transferable. Hatred can become compassion, frustration can become creativity. You are using exactly the same energy. You choose.

A wish: I wish I can use my energy and talents in a creative and dynamic career that benefit people in wonderful and miraculous ways. This is my affirmation for today.

Yesterday I Had A Cow, Today The Cow Is Dead.

I'll be brief. I called this morning to explain my situation about taken the wrong test. I invested time and money these past 4 months trying to get into the Alternative Certification Program for the Dallas ISD. I have spent at least $300 dollars in application fees, test fees, and courses. I invested hours on writing essays in both English and Spanish, researching bilingual teaching, meeting several times for interviews with officials. I took two part-time jobs to be able to afford the gas and the fees. I was told this morning that not only my money will not be reimbursed, but that is useless to take the "right" test now because it would be too late for me to be included in the program. So I will not be admitted as a teacher for 09-10. Misinformation and unclear instructions cost me my future livelihood. As simple as pressing the "wrong" button in the computer when I registered for that test one month ago. It is as if they want to get rid of the good candidates, and damn it I am a good candidate fluent in three languages and well versed in history, art and literature. (Please mind my immodesty, but I need to get it out!) I just do not understand. Am I being to naive? Right now I do not know what I am going to do next. Of course, I must look for another job. I am sad, very sad and frustrated. We have become numbers with a long list of check lists trailing behind us, we are being approved or disapproved impersonally.

31 flavors of ice SCREAM

Some people drink, others smoke, I eat ice cream or rather ice SCREAM. As frustrating days go I had a top ten day today. It is all about a test called the EC-4. It must be some kind of cynical joke to call a trick ridden general examination test for teachers in Texas an EC-anything. It was tough, specially when half-way during the examination I discovered, well it was more of a revelation, that I was taking the wrong test. Let me restate. I WAS TAKING THE WRONG TEST. You see I had take a EC-4 test, so I went on-line and registered for it after paying $125. Today I found out there are two different EC-4 tests. To make matter more confusing I was offered a Bilingual Teaching position pending the passing of the EC-4 test. So I registered for the Bilingual EC-4 test. I think it makes perfect sense, but it doesn't make any sense for them (the school district) because I was suppose to take the Generalist EC-4 test. Nobody told me that, I'm fuming, I will have to take a new test and pay $125 again for the right test. So I'm boiling mad and am eating lots and lots of ice SCREAM, French Vanilla with caramel syrup to be exact. Tomorrow I am calling the parties involved in this most confusing situation to see if I can get credit for the wrong-test-I-didn't-study-for that I took this afternoon. I-could-just-hyphenate-myself-to-death-tonight. But dear Scarlett said it best-"Tomorrow is another day."

I Once Had A Blog

Or should I say, A blog once had me? After several attempts to come back I'm finally here. I have missed you all. It has been a couple of weeks since I have blogged. I took some time off because I got two part time jobs and I did not have access to the Internet. Now I'm back. These few weeks I have missed your blogs, your passionate, living blogs. So full of joy and energy. I missed something I can only identify as the BEAUTY of blogging. For me, it has to do with sharing your crazy thoughts, searching for beauty (not the obvious harmonious one , but the inner one), letting your brain rage with luminous thunderstorms, and sitting down for coffee and blueberry muffins.

I wanted to come back earlier. I yearned for this little blogging joy. I hope you all have forgiven my absence. I was afraid I would come back and find myself with no followers to play cowboys with. Gladly, that's all over.

News: I am becoming a teacher. So a lot of hard work lies ahead. I'm partly scared and partly thrilled. 75% of the people I have told of my most recent vocation have looked me with sad and baffled eyes. They just do not understand why. A teacher?, Why?, Because.... I just want to stick my tongue out and tell them off. Because I believe. Because I have hopes. Because I refuse to be cynical. Because it is a rare honor and privilege to be a mentor, and educator. Because I care. Because there is joy in learning. Because there is beauty in growth. So grow up. Because I might grow up too.

Summer is here. The Texan sun is glaring. I am moving slow. I'm a bit sluggish with this hot weather but I like the deceleration. I also love having an AC and a cool glass of freshly brewed iced tea in my hand. Make it an ice cold beer better. I will put some Copeland on my iPod and pretend I am riding my horse, Pinko, across the Southern Plains. Here's looking at you fellow bloggers.

The Flickering Blog

I'm in the middle of a thunderstorm. So I'll be very brief. For two whole days my blog was nowhere to be seen. I only had access to my account. I could write a new post but I could not see the actual page. Today, I finally see my blog in its entirety. This reminds me of one of those beautiful and complicated sand mandalas done by Tibetan monks. After they finish their work they destroy the whole mandala. It is a lesson about impermanence. A blog is also impermanent. I'm glad I got it back. But there are no guarantees. One post at a time. It has been a little exercise on non-attachment. Thanks to my darling bloggers for letting me know that they were able to see the blog. I send you all my pink love.

All is gone. Where is my blog?

Walking

New sign at the Pink Ranch

I started walking again today. It's just amazing how exercise clears your mind from all the clutter we have absorbed from our daily lives interactions. Today, as I walked, I saw so many roses I felt I was in some kind of paradise. I could smell the scent as I walked briskly passed them. I have been noticing how everything is so green in North Texas. It is truly a feast for the eyes. It is so simple to go for a brisk walk down your neighborhood. Yet we find one million excuses not to do it. We know is good for the body, the mind and the spirit. But so often we are so easily distracted by petty things. We just put doing exercise at the bottom of our Things To Do list. It not only relieves stress. Walking makes you find a physical and emotional place within a community. Walking "dis-isolates" you. You are part of the whole organism of community once again. As I walk I do positive affirmations (Is this a redundancy?). I am so grateful that all my six senses are functioning. I remember reading Emerson and Thoreau and their deep felt joy and wonder while talking walks. I am going to check out those books again at the library. They are so articulate in defining our humanity and its relation with nature. Walking is an effective antidote for stress. I'm walking again this afternoon. Who knows? I might find new treks, new trees to hug or new ideas.

Absit Omen

Dearest bloggers. I have been very busy lately in my job search. I just wanted to stop by my own blog and tell you how much I appreciate your visits. My mind is running amok these days with thousands of ideas. I am also a little bit obsessed with twitter, which I joined recently, and feel like writing senseless haiku in less than 140 words every 3 hours. Another obsession: Every day I wake up I go to Wikipedia to check on Recent Deaths. It's a little bit morbid. Strangely enough when I find the name of a celebrity (usually actors or actresses of note) in the death lists my heart misses a beat and I feel melancholic. Then, I miss the celebrity terribly and look for info all over the Net. I think I am going to laugh about this little obsession of mine. Am I turning into my own parents? Later in life they loved to read the obituaries to see if any of their friends or acquaintances passed away. Maybe it made them feel like survivors. In the meantime I hope I don't find myself ever on those dreary lists. Absit Omen.

Movie Review: The Edge of Love

I went to see The Edge of Love last Thursday at Angelika Film Centre in Dallas. The movie deals with the relationship among Thomas Dylan, the celebrated Welsh poet, his wife and a lover-friend of his. Typical love triangle. But the director went berserk trying to use all available camera shots. The film is more an anthology of different styles of filming than a coherent story about an intense love relationship during WWII in London. In matter of an hour you get to see wide angles, soft angles, kaleidoscopic lenses swirling around, intense close-ups, off-focus, blurs, light outbursts, chiaroscuro techniques, low-angle shots (from below), you name it. They all come in rapid secession without adding anything to the movie. The two actresses, Kaira Knightly and Sienna Miller play the lover and the wife respectively. They do a good job. They are absorbed into their characters and give good straight performances. I expected the role of Thomas Dylan, played by Matthew Rhys, to be more prominent and to offer more insight into his inner demons so to speak. I would not call this film a failure, it is fairly well acted but it fails to rise to the occasion. The films wants to project an intense expressionistic view of love in times of war. The abrupt changes in different types of camera shots is too distracting. It has some redeeming shots though. My favorite is the opening scene where Kaira Knightly is singing a lush tropical ballad in the middle of a German bombardment in a London Underground station. All in all, I did not enjoy it very much. Of course, this is only my most humble opinion.

Pasta Day

It's been a pasta day. Going to the supermarket to buy all the ingredients for my world famous Alfredo sauce. OK it's really Ragu. But an enhanced Ragu at that. I added mushrooms, parsley and my favorite spice ever tarragon. I wish I had a big kitchen and a budget to prepare my favorite recipes. These "between jobs" days call for ready-made inexpensive food. But my heart is in an open market where I can buy fresh produce and breathe in the colors and scents of the fruits of the earth. How poetic! but true. I love those almost stereotypical scenes in movies filmed in Italy. Long old wooden tables with an array of Mediterranean delicacies. Friends and families eating and laughing and choking. OK, leave the choking part out. Do you guys feel the same way about cooking pasta? Now If I have a glass of Chianti in my hands while cooking, then the meal acquires a sublime quality.

I just found out about the earthquake in L'Aquila in central Italy. Those beautiful Italian Renaissance buildings reduced to ruins. It seems that hundred of people have perished. The first thing I thought was that earthquakes do not discriminate. We are so used to hearing about natural disasters in poor and developing countries. But it can happen anywhere, of course. So my heart and my prayers go to those unfortunate people that are left homeless and have lost family members. I'll have my pasta in silence, I do not care to celebrate that much after these terrible news.