The best ONTD commentary on Taylor Swift’s new song “Begin Again” ….this is why I read comments. Internet wins!
@JessicaCoro : Margarita this is what I want for a proposal …. Hansons singing in the background with violins and acoustic guitars on the top of the mountains beautiful flowers … Flowy gown … And peeta down on his real knee …Make it happen
Jessica: One of two things will happen … U know excitement and surprises make me violent .. a trait that s been inherited from my mother. I’ll probably throw one of the hansons over the cliff in shear joy and excitement Or ill cry to the point ill make the mountain a waterfall and tell my peeta to “shut the fuck up “
Sometimes the memory of home can be so sweet. This short film, “(A Toast) To Miami,” may not exactly portray my Miami, but its evocative nostalgia stirred something in me that made me smile. That thing that makes me proud to be from the Magic City. Walking down the streets of D.C. I often smile thinking of this town of transplants who came here mostly for work but also seeking a more interesting colorful place to call home, but me I come not from the mundanity of the Midwest or the uppercrustidiness of New England but from the strange exotic 305. A land where English is a second language, where the weird collides with the beautiful.
I’ll admit I hated Miami growing up, wanted nothing more than to leave. I perceived it to be a superficial, judgmental wasteland, where sunshine killed braincells and intellect went to die. But during my prolonged “imprisonment” in the Magic City, I found its other sides, the art scenes, a community of like minded smart kids who always talked about getting out but never did and instead hung in bars talking about how stupid Miami was not realizing through this talk we were changing it, making the city ours and making it special. I don’t think I’ll ever move back to the 305 again, the 3 Hs (heat, humidity, hurricanes) and lack of career opportunities that interest me have closed it off to me. But may be in realizing that I’ll never be permanently there again, I’ve become more ok with it, more proud to call that sun-drip paradise home, and I’ve come to miss it. Come to cherish the ridiculous aspects of it that I used to shun. And come to praise it for daring to be different, to be this strange wondrous place of astounding contradictions. Comparing it, DC just fails to be so daringly different and weird. So I grow nostalgic, missing home; craving a cortadito, some pastelitos, and a vaca frita with moros and maduros.
Miami in a a lot ways is me. Hispanic-American. Self-loathing yet deeply narcissistic. Strange, an outsider town that doesn’t quite fit in with the rest of the state or country. A place that always seems lost in dream, ignoring reality. A place that forces you to carry a cardigan everywhere you go though its 90 degrees out, because that blasting AC creates a different interior reality. What you see isn’t always what you with Miami or with me. Just always keeping you guessing.
My frequent use of the royal “we” when I mean “I” sometimes concerns me. In High School I did write a paper on Disassociative Identity Disorder for my freshman health class… my research was based entirely on Vicki in One Life to Live and the 3 Faces of Eve.
Really the true sign of my insanity is that I say it a loud to absolutely no one. “We shant be watching that” (yes I also say “shant”)… I live alone, I don’t even have cats, its definitely just me and “the other mes.” So its either a future diagnosis of D.I.D. or schizophrenia I’m facing right? I hope I can get on a health insurance plan that includes mental health coverage before that, those pills cannot be cheap.
If farmers and blacksmiths could win independence from an empire…if immigrants could leave behind everything they knew for a better life on our shores…if women could be dragged to jail for seeking the vote…if a generation could defeat a depression, and define greatness for all time…if a young preacher could lift us to the mountaintop with his righteous dream…and if proud Americans can be who they are and boldly stand at the altar with who they love…then surely, surely we can give everyone in this country a fair chance at that great American Dream. Because in the end, more than anything else, that is the story of this country – the story of unwavering hope grounded in unyielding struggle.
—Michelle Obama killed it. “The truth matters” - Salon.com
It was my birthday yester, in case you were wondering how old I turned see above photo. Unlike Matthew Perry in that film I will not be learning any important lessons about adulthood thank you.
Remember when I used to call my niece Amber a fat and useless baby? Well those days are over, because along with toddling, walking, and some semblance of talking she also developed quite the amazing personality. Not only is she sassy as all hell, but she’s also whip smart. At the tender age of 4, she’s taught herself some Mandarin and sign language (through some tv show that I doubt other kids have been smart enough to similarly utilize), and knows how to pick idols: me (note in the above picture how she too took a stab at cutting her own bangs, unfortunately has yet to develop my dexterity). She also braids her hair like she were a contestant in the hunger games, can do a full teaser Pilates move and knows what its called, and enjoys the music of the Civil Wars (huge fan of “I’ve Got This Friend,” song she’s jamming to in above picture).
But my favorite piece of evidence into Amber’s intelligence is her disdain for school. Don’t get her wrong, she loves knowledge and learning, she just knows she’s above all those uniforms, rules, teachers and other dumber children. This likely means she’ll end up like me, another early in life school-hater, and overstay her welcome in higher educational systems, because its cozy there…because that’s our curse. But in the mean time she won’t take this fact sitting down. In fact, Amber is convinced that the requirement that she attend pre-school is some form of bizarre punishment, for what crime? She has no idea, she’s just willing to do whatever it takes to get out of serving that sentence. Every morning as she’s being dressed in her uniform she says “Mommy, I’m sorry,” before departing “Don’t make me go, I swear I’ll be good,” outside the school door “I’ll clean my room instead.”
Then she lies to me and swears she didn’t cry, she just hates it is all.
McKayla is not impressed with William And Kate