Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Things I'm Going to Do When on Holidays


Hey Bloggers from the Northern Hemisphere.

I hate you.

You are frolicking in the sun and cloud-gazing on the grass with naked feet and I'M STUDYING MAPS AND MEMORIZING LATITUDES AND READINGRESEARCHINGREALLYNERVOUS. Like "okay, I just got diarrhea." That's how nervous I am.

But, alas, Winter Holidays are not that far away. They're close enough for me to get distracted from the maps and the textbooks. I'm already day dreaming. I already have a to-do list. You know, the kind you do when you should totally be studying.

I wanna:

  1. Read tons of Inconnu posts
  2. Read tons of Rookie posts
  3. Research a lot about feminism
  4. Watch a lot of Youtube from my favorite vloggers.
  5. Read a lot. I've got a book on Kabbalah, Doctor Zhivago, poems and short stories a-waiting for me.
  6. Take a road trip to the coast with my bff, and take lots of pictures with a disposable camera so that, oh yeah, I CAN GET BACK TO BLOGGING. (I'm sorry about the amount of caps lock, I'm just hysterical this time of year.)
  7. Interview my almost 100 year old grandma for the Roots project.
  8. Get back in shape. Really.
  9. Write a lot. I haven't written seriously for a while.
  10. LIKE, LIVE, DUDE.
That's it for today. Were a future editor to read this post, I would never, ever get published. The only excuse I can use for my lack of grammar and of vocabulary diversity is hysterics. I'm a hysterical person, man. Who do editors think they are anyways?

Have a nice day and enjoy your naked feet-ness,
Ana

Friday, June 14, 2013

17 B4 18 #15: Explore a common/new place



When I did my 17 B4 18 list, number 15 glittered with potential (either to be really cool or utter frustration.)

Thankfully, I completed it by blessed and fortuitous chance and it is one of the best things that has happened to me this year.

About two kilometers away from my house (a little over a mile) is a dirt road that follows a tiny brook's way. The brook becomes livelier in winter, with the rains. There is a splendid view of the Andes Mountains.

I discovered this place only this year. After one particularly depressing day of school, I decided to walk home (instead of taking the bus.) It takes a long time, but in the right conditions, the walk is lovely. I feel like Anne of Green Gables.

Especially that day, when I decided to take a new path. And it led me there.

I should name the place. It's too beautiful not to.

Perhaps "Shadow's Way" would suffice? Or "Shadow's Tunnel"? Maybe "Moon Ray." (Readers, please help me! Comment what you think I should call it.)

Anyways, it's easy to spend too many an hour on this path, breathing the ferny cold air, tempted to jump into the stream.

It's nice to have a haven in the midst of the city and suburbia. A place were light does not hit things directly, where there is always something left undiscovered. This has been one my favorites on the list so far. I invite you to discover a common new place too.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

It's Hard to be a Feminist

Me, dressed up as Rosie the Riveter for a costume party. Because I'm cool like that.

Has any feminist ever thought "my life would be so much easier if I weren't a feminist"? Has any of you considered how much energy it takes to fight close-minded men on their unfair judging of women, or holding back fellow girl friends from doing all that toxic gossiping that they enjoy, and harms, so much? How "unfeminine" it is to be a feminist, all the complicated decisions we have to make about our opinions on life, our actions in life, etcetera.

But I've also thought "my life would be so much easier if I didn't think too much."

"If I were a bird, and could just fly away..."

"If I didn't care so much about things..."

"If things didn't affect me so much."

Why do we decide to be feminists? Is it because we see the truth behind it all? The first time I stumbled upon Rookie's feminist articles, I did not actively think "hey, now I'm a feminist." The first time I pointed out to a male teacher that he was being misogynistic I didn't think "hey, now I'm a feminist."

Why the fuck do we do what we do?

If I'm not even sure about myself; I doubt I can answer for you.

But you know what? Gandhi's life would have been easier if he hadn't liberated the Indian people from British colonization. And Galileo Galilei didn't have to die at the stake. Che Guevara didn't exactly live an easy life.

I don't believe that we choose our ideals, but that our ideals choose us. Sometimes, a certain cause strikes as so just and true, that it seems folly not to defend it; it's an instinct in us. It's an instinct in so many of us to defend something abstract just because that something abstract chose us to defend it.

I read in The Myth of Sissyphus Camus's questioning of how people will gladly die for an ideal, but rarely live for it.

Perhaps it's very easy to die, and very hard to live?

There are many questions in life that remain unanswered, and I can't answer for the people who die for ideals and don't live for them. It's all very strange, really. The world is a strange place.

But what is it also?

It's also a place that's getting better and better every day. Now, what is "better" might be questionable depending on the individual, but I don't know. At least in my opinion, it's getting better.

For one, the internet has allowed us feminists to be viewers and characters of what I think is a wave of neo-feminism.

But we must always remember, that we didn't choose our ideals, they chose us. And because of this, sometimes our defense of them can be blind. That's were they bring us to trouble, were they drain us from so much energy. The trouble I have with ideals is that sometimes people seek their realization so fervently, that they can't see any other way. Politics are the best example of this. (Like, who cares if you're right wing or left wing. Just do what's good for your people.)

When ideals get blind, I think they just represent the stupidity of the person who is fighting for them. Or, in nicer words, if you're not able to think about new solutions outside of your ideal, then you are just being lazy and using your supposed ideal to escape the thinking process.

I don't know. Maybe this post was blathering, but then, it's hard not to blather about a world we quite don't understand.

Edited to add: Gosh, this post rambles a whole lot. A disgrace to the writer in me. Someday the day will come, and I will revisit this.

Friday, June 7, 2013

Art that Moves: Salvador Dalí's Last Supper


It's been a few years since I started cultivating my avid fandom for the Spanish surrealist, Salvador Dalí. I find his art to have a different effect. For example, my favorites have always been the Impressionists. And while Monet soothes, Matisse evokes, and Renoir instills, this surrealist painter does something above any Impressionist; it moves you. And not solely in an emotional way! But it seems that being in the presence of a Dalí painting really does move you, takes you somewhere else. Some part of my conscience acknowledged the fact that my body remained in the physical museum, but somehow the image represented led my spirit astray.

I was lucky enough to be able to visit Washington DC a few weeks ago, as my readers might know by reading my blog. And, if you ever have the opportunity to be in DC too, I advise you to do one thing above any other; visit the National Gallery of Art. And, once you have visited the National Gallery of Art, ask for Dalí's Last Supper, and prepare yourself.

I tried to find a quality image of the painting online, and failed. No image can represent what I saw in real life.

You feel the holiness of the picture seeping through your eyes and into the rest of your body, yet this holiness feels somewhat sacrilegous. A paradox? I'm not sure. Whether it was the few asymmetrical details or the surrealism of the work of art, I knew that I was before something extremely holy that wasn't exactly what it seemed. It was a marvel. The way materiality blended with light and failed to work in normal ways, and the disquieting apostles...

Superb.

Surreal.

Dalí was a genius. Just like the name of his current indicates, nobody else could have elevated reality into the dimension that he did.



PS. I leave you with a gem that I found a few months ago. A true delight:



PPS. There are some interesting documentaries about Dalí in Youtube. If ever you possess the wonderful gift of time, I recommend you to dedicate it to him. Or to eating pancakes. Whatever, you know.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Washington DC Iphoneography

I was in DC this last week. Took a few pictures with my camera, but most were with my iPhone. Here are a few:



Could've stumbled into Forrest Gump any minute.



It's always nice to get hot waiters at restaurants.



National Gallery of Art is probably the most beautiful museum (in terms of architecture) I've ever been to.


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