all about my stuff

i've been tagged by dear vanja...
here are the contents of my bag... currently.



::gloves
::27 dresses ticket stub
::visine
::blistex silk&shine lip balm (which jamila uses more than i)
::lip stain
::3 pennies
::dove deo (i'm never without it)
::keys
::gap perfume (a gift from vimie)
::panty liner (you never know...)
::ipod in arm strap
::purell (highly needed in my line of work)
::2 andes candies
::trident splash gum (my favorite)
::black pen
::green highlighter
::blue marker pen
::small notebook (prayer journal/lists)
::wallet
::cell phone
::ear phones
::magazine
:::::::::all inside my wonderful eat local bag given to me by gaby.


i tag.... vimie. aaron. deidre. karen. beni. adriana. andrea. crystal. ellen. kori.
show me what you got!

I don't have it. He does.

I had to go out on a home visit at the end of the day. I was caught up in the office with various things and did not leave the office until dusk. I drove and drove and the road disappeared and I found myself driving on a muddy dirt pathway. I kept driving. I saw nothing but woods and the dirt road. No houses, no people, no stores. I finally saw a house, standing alone and falling apart. I slowed down to see the address and found that it was not the house I was looking for. There was a dark narrow path next to the house and I took that road. I looked in my rear view mirror and saw headlights far behind me. I was being followed. I drove faster. The path was bumpy, full of hills and turns and fallen trees. It was a long drive. The sun had set. I finally arrived at a huge house. Dark and lonely. I parked my car and went inside. It was dark and sticky in that house. Evil and blackness and fear. Shades of gray and black and cold fear in my stomach. As I was in the old dark house a man walked in and went to the back of the house. After a few minutes, the man left. I followed. I ran out of the house, fear taking over. I was crying and choking and I was so afraid. The man got in his pickup truck and drove away, back down the windy narrow dark pathway. I got in my car and fumbled with my keys, trying to hurry and follow the man. My car was stuck in the mud. I panicked. My breathing was quick, my heart was speeding. It was dark and I could barely see. No lights. I put the car in Drive and I walked out in the mud in a rush to push my car, scared that someone would come out of the old dark house and kill me. I gave the car a nudge and it moved. I ran to jump in the car and follow the man. The man was gone. I drove on the narrow dark pathway and I couldn’t see. Then I saw the pick up truck far away and I followed it. The truck turned and the light was gone. My car had headlights but I could not see. It was pitch black but I drove anyway. I was more afraid of what was behind me than the dangers of driving in the woods without seeing the road. I saw the truck again and when I saw the truck I saw light. The path was longer this time and I kept following the man in the pickup truck with the light. I would lose him over hills and on turns, but I would find him again. I was afraid, but I was breathing again. I drove and I followed. The man slowed down and parked next to the first house I had seen. Without knowing why, I parked as well. I parked and I got out of my car. The man came to me and hugged me. His hair dark and curly. His arms big and strong. His sweater soft and gray. I never felt so safe in my life. I never saw his face.


I dreamed a dream last night. Tell me what you think it means.

Email.... sent.

i wrote god an email today.i used to write him in a journal, a journal specifically designated for writing god letters. but i think i've lost the art of writing. Either my hand has lost practice and can't keep up with mt mind anymore, or my thoughts are faster than they used to be and my hand gets left behind with half written words that i can't read after they've been written. so i decided to email instead.

and i just wanted to tell someone, communicating with god... is so good. and i ask myself, why have i taken such a long break from talking to him? is there any good reason? quick answer: no.

i know i'm not the only one that gives god long breaks he never asked for. so if you're one of those people, that like me, has pushed god aside. this is my attempt at encouraging you to step up and communicate... silent prayer, screaming, crying, writing, typing... however it is you communicate with him. don't put it off any longer. come back now... why not?

I Am My Mothers Daughter

As a child my mother was my number one. She was the one I went to for everything. I saw no wrong in her, she was perfect and beautiful and I wanted to be with her always. I grew up a little and got to be a teenager. Mami was no longer number 1, she became kinda lame in my eyes. Many things she did annoyed me, embarrassed me, and I did not want to be with her. Instead I wanted my space and I didn’t want her asking me questions and trying to act like she knew me. I continued to mature and found myself in college, living the dorm life. This improved my relationship with my mother because she wasn’t in my way, so to speak. I began to realize how great I had it with such a loving mother, but so many things still annoyed me and I wouldn’t talk to her too much, just a little. I continued growing, finished school, somehow became a professional, and I moved back home. I am a roller coaster. From month to month things are never the same with me and my relationships with those around me, especially with my mom. But lately, despite the roller coaster, Mami and I are learning how to exist and love and care for each other amidst the shifting of age, maturity, careers, and random changes. The bond between a mother and daughter is precious and working to keep it whole is now a priority. It should have always been.
Growing up there were so many things I vowed I would never be or do, simply because I associated my mother with various characteristics, personality traits, mannerisms, etc. And who wants to be like their mom?? Yikes! But I have always seen my mother in me. I have spent much time disliking those parts of me, pushing them away, trying to make them disappear. Why? Because those are the parts of my mother I don’t like. But I’m done with that. I am learning to embrace the Mami in me. And lets face it, my mom is probably one of the coolest people ever, so having her in me is not a bad thing. It’s actually a very good thing. Why has it taken me so long to realize this?
So… I say it proudly now…. I am my mothers daughter…

I become flustered with simple tasks I’m not accustomed to performing.
When I feel I’m close enough to a person that I can have a say in their life, I nag.
I manipulate with an innocent smile.
I get excited and easily irritated by family when there are lots of guests in the home.
I am sincerely interested in what younger people are doing with their lives but it sometimes comes off as flakey.
I care too much.
If someone tells me something personal and serious I feel like I have a responsibility to “help” them.
I give advice I shouldn’t give.
I have a slight case of scoliosis.
I become involved in other peoples issues without being invited.
I talk too much.
I tear up easily.
I ask too many questions.
I love my family… dearly.
My concern for the less fortunate is so great it has formed my passion for my career.
I give.
I smile often, and giggle when I don’t know what to say or how to respond.
I spend money too easily on people I love.
I call my friends to keep in touch with everyone.
My eyes and cheeks are so big they are basically my entire face.
My legs and arms are too small for my torso.
I love music.
Spirituality has always been important to me.
Judaism intrigues me, as well as all religions, cultures, and beliefs.
Eating is extremely enjoyable for me.
I do good work which results in teachers and supervisors loving me and trusting me.
I assume too much.
When I cook, its pretty darn good.
I’m sensitive.
I'm a chubby kid.
I'm passionate.
I’m easily misunderstood and I easily misunderstand.
I think too much.
I love reading.
I am a malicious Colombian.
I love learning.
I dream big.

Good and bad. I get all of these things from my mother... and many more things as well. They are a huge part of who I am. I Am My Mothers Daughter. For life.

papa

i took a class called death and dying a few years ago at andrews. it was a very interesting class, to say the least. every time the class met we discussed a different aspect of death. the death of loved ones, clients (for social work), and our own death as well. the most awkward thing about that class is that we had to write our own eulogy and epitaph and then read it to the class. i don't even remember what i wrote... i only remember it was extremely difficult to think about and come up with something i felt was good. in that class i had to read tuesdays with morrie. this is a very good book and if you havent read it, you must... at some point. its quite short and a fast read. well, i'm very glad i read that book... and i'm glad i took that class, especially because of the seemingly quick approaching death of my grandfather.

my grandpa has Parkinson's Disease. he's had it for many years now, and its getting pretty bad. he's in his 80's and though he still has in mind very much intact, his body does not respond to his minds commands more and more. and it will only get worse.

lately he's been saying that he is praying a lot about his death. he says that he is asking god that death come in his sleep at home and that he will never have to enter a hospital. my mom was telling me about some forms that the family is trying to get notarized so that if my grandpa has some kind of emergency at home and the ambulance is called, that the paramedics will not resuscitate him and take him to the hospital and connect him to life support. only because that is how he wants it, and prolonging life like that is only more painful for the family to drag it out... and for the patient as well. i get it. i can process the information. but thats my grandpa...

i was over at his house last week and we were talking. i asked him if he and my grandma were planning on going to colombia again for the winter months. he looked at me and told me that he was planning and hoping for a different kind of trip.

i'm glad to know my grandpa is so comfortable with the idea of his own death. i guess i just wasnt prepared to hear him speak of it as if it will happen before the year is over. i want to be comfortable with death as well... i dont want to fear it. i get worried about how my mom and her sisters and brother will fair through the whole ordeal... i worry about what will happen to my grandma... and i worry about many things. but theres no need to worry... and death is natural. why am i so uncomfortable with it?

well... this whole thing has been on my mind a lot lately. then today i just found out that an old friends grandfather died this morning... i knew him well. and its just weird, how life is.. time. i don't know.... but the whole topic has me thinking...

my conclusion? i'm gonna go hang out with papa a bit more... i still have a lot to learn, he's got so many stories to tell me... and there's no time to waste.