Barbaric "Sports" and Their Aftermath

One of the "sports" that I abhor the most is bullfighting. To me, it's no sport but rather a glorified torture-fest with onlookers who must have at least some sort of bloodlust to be able to enjoy such a monstrous spectacle. While bullfights still occur in Ecuador during the "Fiestas de Quito," it's wonderful to see an increasing amount of people support animal rights and join the marches and protests every year in favor of abolishing the backwards tradition. While Ecuador may be moving ahead in its conscientiousness, the fact remains that bullfighting still exists there. That's without even mentioning places like Mexico, and above all Spain, where the tradition was born. It appears that it will take a lot of baby steps before people begin to break with tradition, think for themselves, and refuse to commit or participate in such abominations.

One "sport" that had not really claimed much of my attention until now is horse racing. Again, to me it's not really a sport, but that's beside the point. While horses may live a grand lifestyle while they're in their prime, only a tiny percentage are actually living like kings or queens because only the smallest fraction of thoroughbred racehorses compete on the biggest stages and win the most illustrious prizes. The rest of them? They have their time in the spotlight, some of them for practically a millisecond, and then what happens to them is anyone's guess. I certainly had my suspicions about what happens to racehorses after they have been "retired," but I was not necessarily prepared for what I was presented with after reading a 5-page article about it in the Washington Post.

One of the conclusions, among several, that I came to is that bullfighting is still alive because of people's attraction to the dramatic, dangerous, and bloody with costumes and flair. People are attracted to horse racing because of money, and dare I say it, greed. And people involved in both activities are influenced by the "society" of the whole event, partaking in the stands, the whole act of "seeing and being seen." Like many people, I would much rather opt for not being seen and being able to sleep at night with a clean conscience and and a mind free of even more ghastly images than already exist in the world.

For anyone curious as to the story of thoroughbred horses after the racetrack, here is the link to the Post article, which is actually quite well written by a freelance writer and horse lover.

Beasts of Burden: What happens to thoroughbred racehorses after retirement

Dreams and Watching the Dreamers from the Outside

I must really be feeling LOST-deprived: last night I had a fabulous dream in which I was in love with Jack Shepherd and we were talking on the phone. If that isn't obsessed, I don't know what is. I guess since LOST is no longer on TV, my brain has taken over for the ABC network and has started airing its own original episodes of LOST.

There's nothing quite like a nice satisfying dream that you actually manage to remember the next morning. It could be romantic, like mine was, or action-packed with superheros or obstacles to overcome, or it could be funny and have you wake up chuckling, or it could be magical, such as the one flying dream I had that I'll never forget. I wish I was as disciplined about keeping a dream journal as I was about writing in my blog. I must add this to my "To Do" list.

As I write this post, I can't help noticing Penny taking a catnap on the couch across from me. Sometimes she stretches out her legs and separates all her toes, in what appears to be an unconscious reflex as she sleeps the evening away. Other times, a twitchy movement will catch my eye and cause me to look over, only to see her whiskers quivering spasmodically, almost in unison with her hind legs and front paws. Sometimes she'll emit a little groan, as if in her dream she let the mouse get away (or perhaps centipede, since we've discovered that she's an excellent centipede hunter).

I'm also reminded of what people look and sound like when they're dreaming. I've been known to do that embarrassing twitch as I'm about to fall asleep that not only makes my heart leap for a second but also wakes me up and causes me to look around to make sure no one saw my extremities jerking around in such an unseemly manner. Although I'm not a big talker in my sleep (according to my husband it only happens from time to time), from what I've heard, my father is often overheard arguing in the depths of slumber about some unfair call made by a referee, umpire, or some other figure of authority (at this point I think the only consolation my mom has after being woken up without hope of falling back asleep is giggling about my dad's somnolent chattering the next morning over coffee). I've even caught my husband in mid-conversation a few times in the middle of the night, although it's almost impossible to reconstruct the context the next morning, as the dream has already come and retired into the inner recesses of his mind.

If I had to choose, I'd rather dream than watch the dreamers, hands down. But that doesn't mean I can't still get a kick out of spying on the inhabitants of Dream Land once in awhile.

Surprise Presents from the Past

I had a "Penny moment" today. My parents recently gave me a few sealed boxes containing childhood books and other belongings of mine from college. I guess they had been stuffed away in the closet in my parents' basement and hadn't seen the light of day until now. I received the boxes and was curious, wondering what they contained. I figured probably just books.

As I began to cut open the packaging tape that held them shut, one of my suspicions was confirmed: there were books. But then, as I opened another box, I caught a glimpse of things I hadn't seen in at least a few years. Although I had already seen these items before, it was like opening a small treasure chest from the past, even if it wasn't so long ago. Out came my pen and pencil holder from college, bought at Target. Next, a perfectly functional silver and black cordless phone in great condition. What's funny is that we had needed a good phone because the hand-me-down one we had been using was rotten, full of static, and impossible to use. I was also elated to come in contact again with my small orange bowl with cherries and cute cats on it, an orange bunny mug, my alma mater champagne glass, and a gorgeous multi-colored ceramic plate/bowl my parents had given me. One of the most unexpected and exciting treasures from the corrugated cardboard treasure chest was a Mexican blanket with colorful squares of pink, red, purple, green, blue, and orange that I had bought at the ruins of Chichen Itza.

I felt as Penny must feel every time she rediscovers her pink octopus in her bed after an extended absence--the joy of a reunion with familiar objects that are treasured and that were thought to have disappeared for good. I suppose absence does increase one's fondness for someone...or something.

Latino presence in LOST

After reading about some of the actors in LOST (yes, I'm writing about it again, don't be surprised if you see more posts about it in the future), I realized that there was more of a Latino presence in LOST than I had realized. Of course there's Jorge Garcia who plays Hurley. He's Cuban and Chilean. No surprises there. Then you have Nestor Carbonell, a.k.a. Richard Alpert. It's hard not to notice his Hispanic-looking features, and it stands to reason--he's Cuban and Spanish. Michelle Rodriguez as the hardass Ana Lucia is a given: Puerto Rican and Dominican.

Then we move on to some surprises. Who would've thought Henry Ian Cusick, otherwise known as Desmond Hume, was half Peruvian and half Scottish? Better yet, how about his on-screen love, Penelope "Penny" Widmore, played by Sonya Walger, who happens to be half British and half Argentine. Finally, we get to the one that was a complete shocker (at least to me): Andrew Divoff, who played the awful Russian character of Mikhail Bakunin. He's half Russian (okay, that part we know) and half Venezuelan. There are even more, such as the actors who play very minor roles, like the actress who played "Nikki" of Nikki and Paulo, the couple who got buried alive and no one much cared. But that's about it for the big fish.

Even though their heritages don't necessarily matter from an audience perspective, nor should they affect how we view the actors themselves, I've always found people's roots and ethnic backgrounds interesting, especially when you'd never know it to look at someone. At times I think, who really cares where someone's ancestors were from? It shouldn't affect the way you view them. At the same time, I can't deny that it's fascinating how many different cultural and ethnic bits and pieces we carry around with us all the time, sometimes without even knowing it or noticing them in others.

How to Avoid the Evening Nap?

There are days when the temptation is just too great and the eyelids are just too heavy to combat the inevitable approach of the Evening Nap. Obviously the best way to avoid the Evening Nap is to get 8 hours (or your body's equivalent) of sleep a night. But when that doesn't happen, as is so often the case for busy adults in today's society, what to do? It's a painful fight to maintain your eyes open and feign interest in conversation when your mind is screaming, "Climb into bed and shut your eyes already, you dolt!" But what may be even worse is the stupor that ensues upon waking, as if drug-induced. That's not even taking into account the grumpy disposition for the rest of the night, and the inability to fall asleep at a decent hour later on. Curse you, Evening Nap, for being so delicious and yet the demise of a good night's sleep.

Pobre Polar Bears

A headline in the BBC caught my attention today: "Polar bears face 'tipping point' due to climate change." In other words, polar bears may be on the slight or not so slight decline right now, but when global warming hits a particular threshold potentially in the very near future, conditions would be so adverse so suddenly that polar bears wouldn't stand a chance for survival.

Perhaps it's because I was given one of those stuffed Gund polar bears when I was an infant, something I have and hold dear to this day, but I've always been especially fond of polar bears. It's truly heartbreaking to read that sometime in the near future, they could cease to exist. What's worse is that this is becoming the rule nowadays for many species, rather than the exception. Al Gore may have brought some nationwide attention to the plight of polar bears, but there's still much to be done. A troubling excerpt from the article:

"Canada has about two-thirds of the world's polar bears, but their conservation assessment of polar bears didn't take climate change seriously," says Dr Molnar, a flaw noted by the IUCN/SSC Polar Bear Specialist Group last year. "Our view is that the Canadian assessment should be redone, properly accounting for climate change effects.

"The status of polar bears is likely much more dire than suggested by the Canadian report," he adds. "For instance, for a while we will only see small changes in summer fasting season survival in Western Hudson Bay. [But] eventually mortality will dramatically increase when a certain threshold is passed; for example, while starvation mortality is currently negligible, up to one-half of the male population would starve if the fasting season in Western Hudson Bay was extended from currently four to about six months."

I'm glad I read this article, because the first step towards change is awareness.

Lost without LOST

Well, my favorite show has come to an end. At least the first journey of watching it, that is. There is no doubt that I'll watch LOST many more times. Even after watching the show's finale, I feel the need to watch it again to make sure I caught everything. Then I'll probably watch the show again from the beginning with the perspective of knowing (but not necessarily fully understanding) how it ends. I'm also sure that someday I'll be re-watching LOST with my own children and reveling in their enjoyment of putting together the puzzle, asking and answering questions, forming their own ideas, laughing at the dialogue, getting swept up in the suspense, and loving it as much as I do. Of course, there's always the chance that they won't even like the show, but then, would they really be my kids? (I jest.)

There are those who got frustrated with LOST and left it behind. I can understand why. Some people want entertainment without having to put a lot of commitment into it. LOST requires time and thought in order to really benefit from it. Other people don't like ambiguity and want every tiny question and confusion wrapped up in a nice little package. Well, my friends, then LOST really isn't the show for you. Still others thought the quality of the show declined after the first season or so. I ask you, were we really watching the same show?

At any rate, what I loved about LOST (besides the characters that you bond with through the glass of the TV screen until it seems you've known them your whole life, the script that was witty and deftly crafted, the incredible acting talent of such a diverse cast, the dry sense of humor throughout the show, the gorgeous camera work and scenery, and the ever memorable musical accompaniments) was what it made me think about. I didn't usually expend mental energy on the details perhaps randomly or purposefully thrown in, because there were so many more powerful messages expressed. It's rare that a show communicates such a huge quantity of meaningful messages while avoiding the urge to be corny or too overtly didactic. This could only be my interpretation on the show, but after watching the finale, I couldn't help notice themes of love, forgiveness, overcoming personal fears and fear of death, focusing on the things that really matter in one's existence, self-sacrifice, a sense of "oneness" with others, and so much more that I ended up scrawling about 6 pages of notes on the wealth of messages communicated by the show, in addition to all the possible endings I could think of.

While LOST is my favorite show, that doesn't mean I can overlook what to me are obvious flaws. The production efforts of the cave in the final episode, for example. A bit cheap, I would say. Examining one of the possible endings, if what happened on the island was actually real, then Desmond really got the shaft because he was unconscious, missed the plane off the island, and didn't even wake up so as to clearly express his desires of what he wanted. Like it or lump it, he got stuck on the island until Hurley and Ben figure out a way to get him back to Penny and his son.

A third grievance: if forgiveness really is one of the strong messages of LOST, why was the Smokemonster/MiB always cast as a "bad" entity? I can understand from a plot perspective--you need to generate conflict, and everyone holding hands and singing "Cumbaya" would not fly. However, it seems to clash with what appears to be one of the principle ideas of the show.

Finally, the ever present, ever stale and unoriginal use of "black and white" symbolism was a bit disappointing. Most people creating entertainment for mainstream society nowadays can't seem to think of alternative ways of viewing that particular dichotomy. Oh well, maybe we'll save that for the next groundbreaking show.

Maybe at some point I'll devote another post to expounding the many themes I have seen emerge in LOST and the different endings I've contemplated. For now, suffice it to say that the best show in the history of television is now over, but like many things, its cultural reverberations, personal impact, and the pleasure it produces will continue to be felt for a long time to come.

Getting Back on the Horse

One thing I've learned about exercise: the less you do it, the harder it is to find motivation and energy to get back into the routine of exercising. Alternatively, the more you do it, the more you want to continue. Obviously, a large factor in this desire to exercise regularly comes from the release of endorphins during moderate to vigorous physical activity. Part of what also makes exercise somewhat "addictive" is the way it makes you feel about yourself. The combination of endorphins, a fit body, a more focused and relaxed mind, alleviated stress, and good health is enough to keep anyone coming back for more.

The hardest part of reaching this exercise euphoria, however, is getting started when there's been a dearth of activity in your daily routine. Speaking from experience, when there has been a lull in my usual patterns of exercise, it takes weeks or sometimes months to get back on the horse, so to speak, and will myself to exercise regularly again. Part of the dread that causes me to drag my feet at times stems from the knowledge of how difficult the first string of workouts will be. Then there's not wanting to see certain pudgy areas bend, fold, and jiggle as they do when you're just starting out again after a lengthy hiatus from regular physical activity. On the other hand, what's amazing about the body is its ability to transform itself. At certain ages and stages in one's life transformations may take more time and energy than at other times, but the fact remains that the human body is capable of major change with some discipline and will power to get it there. Not only that, but I find that my mind is at its sharpest and happiest when I adhere to a consistent (but always enjoyable) exercise regimen.

One of the tricks to a successful workout routine is discovering what type of exercise you enjoy rather than forcing yourself to do an activity you find unpleasant, even if it is for the sake of fitness. If I were confined to only running to stay fit, I'd probably renounce exercise for good, not only because of the shin splints I get but because running is just not for me. Now, give me a good yoga, pilates, dance or aerobics routine, or even an invigorating walk or bike ride, and I'll jump, pose, and pedal the day away. What a lot of trainers say is absolutely true: if your workout isn't fun, you won't do it. So the question you must ask yourself is, what type of exercise makes me feel happy to be alive?

LOL

One of the running Internet jokes that I can't get enough of is the Lolcat phenomenon. According to Wikipedia, the fad originally started in 2005 or 2006 and is based on forum interactions, where people are constantly looking to joke or poke fun, photoshop, and where fast typing and posting inevitably lead to poor grammar, spelling or inarticulate abbreviations (e.g. "teh" and "ur"). Lolcats involve funny pictures of cats with silly captions written with poor grammar and spelling, thus trying to provoke an "lol" ("laugh out loud"). The Lolcats never cease to amuse me--I have the "I made you a cookie" Lolcat as my desktop background at work, and he/she always serves as a great morale booster when the going gets rough. I've included a few Lolcats for your perusal. Enjoy!

Ecuadorians Here, Ecuadorians There, Ecuadorians Everywhere

Today I spent part of the night howling. This was not because there was a full moon, nor because I am a werewolf, nor because all is not well in the noggin. It was because my husband matter-of-factly revealed to me that Lorena Bobbit is Ecuadorian, that he had seen her somewhere in the DC metro area, and then on top of that he began to make the case that Vanilla Ice is half-Ecuadorian as well. Lorena Bobbit was a bit of a shock, I didn't believe that he had seen her around where we live, and Vanilla Ice put me over the edge. Our poor neighbors must have thought that the men in white coats were coming to commit me from all the deranged cackling that must have shot through the paper-thin walls of our apartment complex.

After I was able to compose myself, I did some fact checking. Lorena Bobbit is indeed Ecuadorian, and also happens to live in Virginia. Vanilla Ice does not appear to be Ecuadorian, but his step-father might be. And an additional fun fact is that Christina Aguilera is also half-Ecuadorian.

As if all of this weren't enough, on Wednesday I met my new office mate at the job site where I work sporadically. We got to talking and I asked him if he was from around the DC area. He said yes, but that he was originally born elsewhere. I asked him where. He told me in South America. As if I even needed to ask, I asked anyway: What country in South America? The response: Ecuador. We got a big charge out of our mutual Ecuadorian citizenship, and it was a fitting reminder that for such a small country, you don't have to go very far to encounter its citizens.

Love-Hate Relationship

Our cat, Penny, has a favorite toy: a pink, slightly worn octopus with half the tentacles most octopi have and which seems to be missing any facial characteristics. Nevertheless, Penny has the most intense love/hate relationship with her octopus. I've never seen her bit, scratch, and kick anything like that poor pink creature. It must be the devil incarnate because she goes after it with a vengeance. The octopus is even more enchanting because it contains catnip and makes a rattling sound, and the combination is irresistible to hedonist Penny. If we dangle the octopus in front of her and make it rattle, or if we dangle, rattle, and throw it, she leaps after it like a bat out of hell and proceeds to chomp on it until it's most certainly dead (at least enough to meet Penny's criteria of "dead").

I don't particularly agree with this, but some people say that there is a thin line between love and hate. However, I will make one exception: in Penny's case, where there is loathing, adoration is not far behind. One trick that we were taught to keep her mind active is to hide different toys for a brief period of time and then reintroduce them. It must be like being reunited with money that you forgot was in your pocket and discover a few weeks later. The funniest scene always occurs when the famous pink faceless octopus reappears on the scene without warning. We always hide it in Penny's bed high up on the windowsill. At some point, she ambles across the living room, scrambles up the couch, and starts to get into bed for a catnap, when who should greet her but her archenemy/object of desire! She becomes beside herself with joy, and during the first day or two of rediscovering her toy, she forgets altogether that half the time she tries to rip its tentacles off. She curls up with her beloved octopus and begins to lick it, then falls asleep with it between her paws.

When You Can't Help Falling Asleep on the Job

Certain jobs or tasks can be so mind numbing at times. This doesn't necessarily include busy work, like setting up meetings, emailing, or reading reports that could use a little spicing up. When I say mind numbing, I mean where your eyes either start to cross, roll into the back of your head, or their lids start to cover them without asking your permission. Activities such as entering numbers into a database or simple repetitive tasks that require no real thought conjure extreme feelings of lassitude and desperation. We've all been there at some time or another.

In thinking about jobs, it becomes clearer all the time that there is no "perfect" job. This will not come as a surprise to most people. However, sometimes one carries the misconception around with them that there is an "almost perfect" job out there somewhere. It stands to reason that there are jobs that are better suited to one's personality and talents than others, and one's happiness will probably not fare so well if one were to choose a career that does not create a good match with their abilities and interests. That being said, you can't just live on air. Bills must be paid, and sometimes one must settle for the closest thing to or farthest thing from the "ideal job" one fantasizes about. What's also funny is that even the most ideal job, if one is able to secure such a job, will inevitably bring moments of headache, frustration, and disappointment. The question is, how often does your job evoke such feelings? If the answer is "quite often," perhaps a change of careers is in order. If the answer is "once in awhile," that's probably par for the course. It's true, no job is perfect, but some vocations hit closer to the mark than others depending on what interests you or what makes you feel like you're contributing in an important way to society and the world.

Another career issue that often emerges is the feeling of not really making a mark on the world with one's current work and efforts. It's true, sometimes you can't see the actual fruits of your labor, or your blood sweat and tears seem for nothing. Despite these feelings of futility, one must remember that any form of honest work is useful work. Such work benefits society, one's employer, and certainly oneself in terms of character building, intellect, and breadth of life experience. Novel ideas and more exciting job prospects often stem from unlikely sources and career paths. Furthermore, just because you can't see the direct results of your 40 hours a week doesn't mean there aren't any. What's even more interesting is that there are those who choose to do less stimulating and revolutionary work during the day, but they do what they truly enjoy and are passionate about after hours or on the weekends. Where there's a will to do important things, big or small, there's a way to accomplish them.

Something Worth a Thousand Words + More Words

One of the most satisfying parts of creating this blog and its daily entries is the selection of the accompanying image for each post. Admittedly, this blog is mostly for the purpose of shaking the dust off of these fingers and penning ideas, regardless of whether or not they're invaluable additions to the wide world of writing. Upon embarking on this blogging journey, I never would have expected that part of the exhilaration of blogging would be the partnering of text with visual imagery. At first, I hadn't even considered including pictures or photos with posts. However, after publishing and scoping out my first entry, the blog had this bare, bereft look to it. I immediately took action to rectify the situation and thereafter have thoroughly enjoyed finding just the right image to sit atop the text and make the connection from sight to idea.

Sometimes I like to go back and look through the books I repeatedly pored over as a child. Part of the magic of many children's books is the fact that pictures or photos can be paired with the story without fear of dumbing down the quality of the storytelling. I'm certainly not arguing for adult literature with watercolor art on every opposite page. But it's hard not to feel nostalgic about books with images, and it's hard not to notice that visual stimulation is something the eyes and mind crave, but not just in the form of TV shows and movies.

Although some people might scoff at the idea of including pictures along with a novel created for serious consideration, suggesting that truly wonderful and competent literature can stand on its own two feet (which it usually can), past authors haven't shied away from giving this juxtaposition a try. The very next books on my reading list, "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking Glass" by Lewis Carroll, include what appear to be black and white ink drawings interspersed throughout the story. I have no doubt that those pictures will only add to the reading pleasure I anticipate deriving from Carroll's writing, rather than detract from the experience.

Carefully placed illustrations can enhance the bliss of reading high quality writing, and simultaneously tickle multiple corners of the mind. The only drawback is that the mind is quick to latch onto visual images, and once a picture is introduced, it may be difficult to shed that from the mind's eye and develop one's own mental imagery while reading. Even though I've made the decision to include pictures in this blog, maybe I wouldn't do the same with a novel in order to let readers' minds run free without constraint. Part of the art of combining words and pictures is knowing when and how to do so to maximize the audience's enjoyment of your work.

Even More Little Things

A few "little things" from today:

the rich sweet smell of pipe tobacco from a distance, the purchase of a special birthday gift for the hubby, waking up to a kitty cat snuggled up in bed, a savory veggie burger completely new to the palate, a first joint bank account, a rainy evening with the window open.

Don't Look Behind You! Oh, It's Just Your Past...

For some reason, lately a lot of my "Facebook friends" (and I use the term "friend" here loosely) have been posting advice, quotes, and the like detailing the importance of not looking behind you (presumably referring to your past, not the creepy guy standing behind you) when entering a new relationship. There are merits to this type of advice, as well as huge errors, in my book.

True, past bad experiences of the romantic persuasion can distract someone who's starting afresh with a new beau. Just because Person A was a dud in terms of compatibility doesn't necessarily mean that Person B will be. Paranoia and scars from the past can come back to haunt you in your current relationship and kill even the most promising of fledgling courtships.

Be that as it may, wouldn't it be silly to ignore vital information and experiences acquired through painful past experiences? Sometimes a bit of healthy skepticism or distance can give one the mental and emotional space to calmly analyze one's current romantic situation. Past experiences also provide clues or information that one may recognize more quickly in the present than if one had not experienced a particular pitfall in one's own life.

To summarize, as interpreted by Frankenstein: emotional baggage, baaad. Thoughtful analysis of past experiences leading to heightened awareness and understanding, goood.

Even If the Customer Isn't Always Right, I'm Still Paying Your Salary

Quality customer service is something of value, and clearly something that not all enterprises quite comprehend or execute successfully. A clear example of the "yes's" and "no's" of customer service can be demonstrated through a side-by-side comparison of our local Safeway and Trader Joe's.

Rude Safeway checkout girl never flashes a smile in the dozens of times we've been there. She loudly commands us (note: not asks us) in a monotone voice to hand her the bags we brought with us--here we thought we were such do-gooders, but it turns out we're the consumer equivalent of scum of the earth. Safeway girl orders us to inch our cart even more forward (even though up until a millisecond ago we were still unloading items from it onto the conveyor belt), and then proceeds to noisily bang the cart in useless vengeance as she aligns it with herself and the register. Such lovely auditory accompaniment to our shopping experience. Safeway chick avoids eye contact, is tight-lipped, and a constant reminder that our patronage and presence is the bane of her existence. At least, that's how her actions make us feel. Thus, another person in need of customer service training.

Now I'm not getting paid to say any of this, but our interactions at Trader Joe's today were a breath of fresh air from the unpleasant Safeway routine we had resigned ourselves to executing. At least two workers asked us if we needed help finding anything, probably because we were walking around so aimlessly and wide-eyed like a couple of small towners in the big city. The employee we finally asked to direct us to the rice and beans section was quite affable. The most redeeming part of our whole experience was exactly what we dreaded at Safeway every week: checkout time. A middle-aged man with a bright smile urged us into his aisle--imagine that, invited us to burden him with our soon-to-be purchases, all the while smiling and cracking jokes with the customer ahead of us. Once he got to us, he started commenting on my husband's Boca Juniors jersey, discussing the popularity of "football" in his home country of Haiti, and after overhearing us say something in Spanish, proceeded to converse with us in Spanish (in a very good accent I might add) and share with us that his current dream is to finish taking his Spanish and education courses at the University of Maryland and pursue a career teaching Spanish classes. Talk about a 180 degree turnaround!

I can think of multiple reasons why we've had such disparate experiences at these two grocery stores. Perhaps Safeway girl has a rough life. I think lots of people experiencing some level of job dissatisfaction are not chipper and eager to please. Maybe the wage difference between Safeway and Trader Joe's is enough to be noticed. It could be that there are different training programs implemented, if there's any customer service training at all, and management styles could be completely different. Our Trader Joe's guy might just have a naturally contagious zest for life. The bottom line is, Trader Joe's gained two loyal customers that Safeway basically gave away thanks to a combination of products and customer service. And that's the way the cookie crumbles.

Hello Veggie Burgers

So it's that time of year again--the time of year when one becomes a vegetarian. Frankly, it's not really a time of year. It's more of a process. In previous posts I've touched on tastes in and aversions to food. It seems more clear than ever that at any given time in a person's life, foods were previously loved or hated can produce quite the opposite effect on a person without warning. Lately, I've been slowly but surely developing an aversion to meat again (I saw again because I was briefly a vegetarian for a year before going to Ecuador and surrendering after my will to only eat eggs and cheese could no longer go on).

Perhaps this latest aversion has been brought on by a more specific understanding of the meat industry which subsequently leads to discomfort. However, I knew about those practices when I tried out vegetarianism the first time. There's definitely a physical component of losing the taste for meat, just not enjoying it as I once did. A large part of this loss of enthusiasm for meat is probably also brought on by the newfound availability of tasty and affordable vegetarian options, a la Trader Joes. All I need to do is steal some more recipes from my mom's cookbooks and I'll be on my merry vegetarian way. Stay tuned for how that works out.

Back in Touch

Have you ever drifted apart from someone and then gotten back in touch?

I've had the pleasure of reconnecting with a few people recently, college friends and cousins among them. In the case of one of my college friends, we both felt like we had been remiss about calling, emailing, and so on. We also came to the conclusion that during college, one is often lulled into a false sense of how easy keeping in touch is--a quick call or text, an im conversation, some face time in the res hall, an afternoon or night out with friends, and so on. After college is a different story, and keeping in touch only gets harder with time and increasing activities and obligations. We vowed to feel less guilty about all the keeping in touch we feel we should be doing, and feel content to do what we can. Either way, reconnecting again is rewarding in and of itself.

MYOB!

One thing that's fascinating on an interpersonal and societal level is meddling. We all do it, whether consciously or unconsciously. Thrusting ourselves into "other people's business" can bring helpful or disastrous results. Who even gets to define what qualifies as "other people's business"? Usually, the definition is clarified after it's too late and the damage is done or the successful outcomes have prevailed.

Most often, meddling is not seen as anything negative by the party participating in the meddling. The recipients often do not agree and see it as unwanted. What actually constitutes not minding your own business? Obviously, meddling is completely contextual. It depends on the people involved, personal opinions of propriety, subjective morals, and the specific circumstances of the situation before one can comfortably (and sometimes uncomfortably) make the call about whether to get involved or not.

When parents try to influence your decisions about what vendors to use at your wedding, or what colors schemes match best, is that meddling or just giving a strong opinion? Does it make a difference if they're helping to pay for the wedding or not? If you know painful information about a loved one's romantic relationship that they're not aware of, should you tell them or let them remain oblivious? If you hear strangers carrying on a conversation about where to eat in your neighborhood and they seem unsure, is it acceptable to enter their conversation and mention a few places to them? What I love about these examples (and a host more) is that they are so variable depending on your personality and your personal code of ethics. For example, parents trying to influence my decisions about my own wedding would be meddling if they are really trying to exert their will and won't take no for an answer (luckily for me this is not a real-life example). Recommending a restaurant to a few strangers after apologizing for overhearing their conversation would, in general, be fine for me. And the second case would completely depend on who the loved one is, what the painful information consists of, and what the immediate and long-term consequences would be to him or her, me, and our relationship upon telling that person.

Those are my thoughts, but I guarantee I could find a small army of people who would disagree with me, and that's just fine. What probably makes the most sense is to try and have as much tact and respect for people and their personal decisions as possible--not that I'm saying that's easy if you fundamentally don't agree with what they're doing. However, with that "philosophy" in mind, it will be hard to overstep boundaries or be accused of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.

Can't See the Forest for the Trees

An interesting concept that came up tonight during an intense LOST-related discussion: are you a detail oriented person or a big picture person? Do you have to choose? My instinct is that many people feel at least a slight tug one way or the other. I suppose there could be those who are smack in the middle as well. My father would probably prefer not to label anyone as either one, as one's detail or big picture "orientedness" most likely varies from situation to situation.

Nonetheless, I get the feeling there are many of us who identify or lean toward one inclination or way of thinking than the alternatives. I think there are people who are highly detail oriented and are adept at dealing with all the tiny pieces of the bigger puzzle, but at some point they may get swept away and lost in the details (thus this post's title--also, I just like that expression). On the other hand, there are those who are extremely focused on big pictures and overarching ideas, and they may come face to face with contradictory or outlying details that derail their theories and cause them to reevaluate and reconstruct.

To some extent, and in order to successfully tackle more complex analysis, one must incorporate both details and a larger "take home idea." After all, a big picture without details is bereft of color, meaning, and basis, while a collection of details without a theme tying them together will lack deeper substantive value and may result in a random, somewhat meaningless assortment of facts (note that both extreme cases result in loss of deeper meaning). Thus, more informative and precise analysis requires the ability to hold large and small scale ideas or data in one's head simultaneously. One must also be able to switch back and forth between details and big pictures as is convenient to create a coherent, more profound thought.

Is this a coherent thought? I'm not sure--I may be spending too much time frolicking among the trees as we speak.

What would it be like to be a sleepwalker? How would it feel to experience narcolepsy? Although it's nothing to be taken lightly, sometimes inappropriate thoughts inadvertently pop into my mind, and once in awhile thinking of narcolepsy leads me to ponder the awkwardness that would ensue if one were to have a sudden sleep attack in the middle of sex. I suppose that would only be funny for those who haven't done that or had someone fall asleep on top of them. Sleepwalking, on the other hand, reminds me of the story of an uncle of mine who, during a famous sleepwalking episode when he was a child, proceeded to enter the shoe closet and pee into my grandfather's shoes. I never claimed to have a pure mind, nor to understand the intricacies of sleepwalking and narcolepsy. I'm sure most of the individuals who deal with these conditions don't urinate on other people's belongings or fall asleep naked on top of others during an inopportune moment. However, I can appreciate the potentially awkward situations that could ensue, PC or not. I don't currently know anyone who sleepwalks or suffers from narcolepsy, but I'm going to keep my shoes locked up all the same.

The Call You Don't Always Need to Take

Even though in DC it's illegal to talk on a cell phone while driving unless using a hands-free device, people still manage to evade the law and get those super important calls in while behind the wheel. Multiply that by a hundred when you cross the border into MD or VA where it appears no such law exists. As someone who gets distracted and sidetracked easily at times, I don't even answer my phone or look at texts while driving. What's the point? I'd most likely end up wrapped around a telephone pole, paying for damages to someone's precious vehicle, or squishing some unfortunate pedestrian--all thoughts worthy of reveling in, to be sure. This then prompts the question, what call or text is so urgent that one needs to answer or text back while driving, thus endangering everyone's lives around them, including their own? I've never seen anyone pull over to the side of the road to talk, although it's possible that once in a great while it happens. It's just hard to fathom what groundbreaking news, what pressing emergency, what urgent catastrophe would urge people to be so careless and lower the quality of their driving so significantly. Excuses abound, including, "Well I happen to be multi-talented," or "I've never gotten into an accident in my life." Right, you haven't--yet. But why run that risk? Cars can turn into deadly weapons in the blink of an eye, the turn of a key, or that first step into the street.

Since the golden age of technology, an increasing number of people feel the need to be in instant, and often constant, contact with their family, friends, business associates, and perhaps even strangers. For the benefit of society, it would behoove people to be a bit more patient and relaxed when it comes to their cell phone (and probably in general!). Although it seems like a novel concept at times, the world will not, in fact, end because of a missed call or text. Who woulda thunk it?

Bassa nova, Baby

A conclusion I came to after going to 18th Street Lounge with my husband, my best friend and her boyfriend: Brazilian music is fabulous. (We went on Thursday, when the bar happens to feature live music by a Brazilian band.) Unlike my two cousins who have traveled to or will be traveling soon to Brazil, I have no particular connection with the country. Sure, I'd like to visit, especially since my husband is dying to go see the World Cup in 2014 there. But it's not at the tip top of my list either (Japan, China, Egypt, Armenia, Italy and so on are way ahead on that particular list). That being said, there's something so enjoyable about Brazilian music, be it bassa nova, samba, or whatever else they play. It's easy on the ears, the current mood, and the soul. I always feel transported to a better, happier place listening to Brazilian music. Maybe it's because my parents played so much Stan Getz when I was little so it feels very familiar. Or maybe it's because the music imparts the "joie de vivre" that people who have visited the country say Brazilians themselves embody. Either way, I may not be rooting for them in the World Cup, but I wish them all the best in the music industry for a long time to come.

Retraction

Well, it looks as though a retraction is in order. After reaching the 8th episode of "Munecas de la Mafia," things began to take a turn for the worst. Between all of the characters getting on my nerves, the unrealistic situations and script, and the awful subliminal messages, we decided to call it quits. After some further thought, my husband realized that of the three or more Colombian novelas he's seen, all of them started to nosedive at the halfway point in the series (in this case, way sooner). Undoubtedly the creators saw there was money to be made, generated 60 or more episodes, and ultimately ruined the series. It looks like the only quality novelas are from Brazil, if that. Oh how quickly things can change...

Cinco de Whatta?

Cinco de Mayo strikes me as a funny holiday. People across America seem to get really into the festivities of drinking margaritas, taking shots of tequila, and eating tacos. Now I must ask you, do you know the significance of Cinco de Mayo? Why, it commemorates the independence of Mexico, of course! WRONG. It's a celebration of an unlikely win by the Mexican army over the French in a battle in 1862. Want to know something even funnier? According to some sources it's not even that big of a deal in Mexico. So why do we continue to celebrate it here in the States? I'll hazard a guess at a few factors at play: many Mexican immigrants present in the US enjoy celebrating their culture, Mexico is our neighbor and we are enamored with Mexican food and drinks, and some folks will grab a hold of any excuse to drink booze and party. Hey, no judgment, just sayin'...

I was reminded of how little relevance Cinco de Mayo holds for the rest of Latin America when I asked my husband what he wanted to do for the occasion. He looked at me with a blank expression and asked, "What's that?" Not having ever researched the actual holiday, I fed him the misinformation that it was Mexican Independence Day (the actual reason behind the festivities actually pales in comparison). In response, my husband shrugged, reminded me that he's Ecuadorian, and inquired why he would celebrate a Mexican holiday. I explained the idea of being neighborly and having an excuse to go out, spend money and/or party. He didn't seem phased by my explanation, we didn't do anything out of the ordinary today, and I'm quite alright with that. Next time I go to Chipotle, I'll hold up my burrito in a belated toast to Cinco de Mayo.

The Foods You Love to Hate

If one eats a food with enough frequency within a certain period of time, will one definitely develop an aversion to said food? I remember once when I was little and my mom brought home two family-sized boxes of Honey Nut Cheerios, I was initially thrilled. After a month of being the only household member ingesting the HN Cheerios, I vowed never to allow that particular food item to enter my mouth ever again. That promise has been faithfully upheld to the present day.

What causes aversions to foods? What causes pickiness? My dad hates cilantro, lima beans, and cucumber. My husband loves just about every food. I start to dislike anything I've eaten too often in a short amount of time, and that's not even including the extensive list of foods I won't even touch with a 10-foot pole (I imagine someone like a king's official with a curly gray mustache and goatee opening a yellowed paper scroll of all the foods I either don't like or would prefer not to eat...as he opens the scroll, it rolls past his knees until it hits the ground and proceeds to roll across the floor...). Sometimes it's the food item itself that causes the disgust. Other times it boils down to the food preparation. I can't tell if all of this is related to genuine biological aversions or just plain fussiness. However, I'm certainly not impossible to please and I will never turn up my nose at something you've taken the time to make.

When I was young and I was hungry and pestering my mom for snack ideas, there were plenty of occasions when she would offer options and I would promptly reject them one by one. She always told me that if I was truly hungry, I would eat at least one of the options. She was probably right about that--a starving person technically would probably wholeheartedly devour anything with the remotest semblance of food. I, however, opted for the less popular route of hunger strikes until dinnertime. If you hold out long enough, something more delicious is always bound to cross your plate.

Not All Soap Operas Are Created Equal

When I hear the words "soap opera," the closest synonym that comes to mind is "crap." Just thinking about "As the World Turns," "Days of Our Lives," "All My Children," "General Hospital" and the rest of them is enough to make me cringe. My distaste for soap operas stems from many places, such as the painful performances, brain dead script, plot lines that make no sense and continue on for 50 years...dare I go on?

It used to be when I heard the word "novela" (short for "telenovela"), I got the same kind of jitters. After all, the translation for novela in English is "soap opera." However, even though American soap operas all share an equally bad playing field, Latin American novelas do not. First of all, the story lines don't continue on into eternity and beyond--novelas reach a distinct conclusion. Second, novelas are not just for housewives, as is the stereotype with American soap operas--novelas are made for everyone, young and old, male and female. Third, I have yet to see a humorous soap opera. A good novela always has humor worked into each episode, even if there is plenty of intrigue, suspense, romance and action to balance it out. That being said, it must be reiterated that not all novelas are created equal.

In Ecuador, opinions about different novelas vary, as one would expect since people will always have different tastes in entertainment. For example, there were a few Ecuadorian novelas that I saw clips of that I thought reeked, but some of my husband's relatives were glued to the screens when those particular shows aired, so who am I to judge? The consensus among most young people I talked to in Quito was that the Ecuadorian novelas were not the greatest of all time. On the flip side, they also weren't the worst. Now, I've never done a poll of the population in Mexico, but at least in South America, Mexican novelas have the worst reputation. The Ecuadorian public also doesn't concern itself with Argentine novelas, and those particular shows don't even seem to be broadcast in Ecuador or in its neighboring countries. The consensus was always that the best novelas come out of Brazil and Colombia. Apparently the novela/filming industry is strong in those countries, and there's enough money plus quality actors and writers to make novelas a successful enterprise. For those not in the know, "Ugly Betty" was a originally a very successful Colombian novela, "Betty La Fea."

I have to admit, even though it took awhile for my husband to break down my fairly rock solid aversion to soap operas, I finally took a chance on a Brazilian novela from back in the day called "La Esclava Isaura" and actually enjoyed what I saw of it. Only a few days ago I was talked into taking a chance on a fairly recent Colombian novela, "Las Munecas de la Mafia." Despite the utterly trashy-sounding title, it has not been the tortuous experience I once would have expected. On the contrary, I find myself coming back for more. It's not necessarily addictive the way LOST is, but it doesn't have to be. I'm still watching, ain't I?

Oil Here, Oil There, Oil Everywhere

After reading the initial reports on the recent oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, now all I can bear is a brief glance at the headlines, if that. To say that this latest leakage of oil into the ocean waters is a catastrophe would be an understatement. I can't even bear to think what kind of disastrous effect this will have on the marine life and the entire ecosystem in the Gulf, and that's not even taking into account the livelihoods that are in jeopardy in Louisiana and elsewhere.

Will someone be held accountable for this event? I certainly hope so. But a better question is whether this oil spill could have been avoided. I should think so. Not only is BP responsible for this absolute environmental mess, but I would also ask what you've done to lower your dependence on oil.

While big companies must take the fall for these blows to the environment and by extension to ourselves, what's just as important is for every individual to scrutinize his or her own habits and become aware of how our choices and actions affect the place we call home. For example, why not make more of an effort with recycling? Why not leave the car at home whenever possible? Why not start composting? Why not take care in what animal products you buy and what the practices are of the companies you support? Why not take an interest in the conservation and "green" movement that's sweeping across many countries, but perhaps not quickly enough? Finally, why leave it up to big oil companies to make the decisions about the fate of the planet? We need to wake up and make those decisions ourselves. Ultimately the planet's best interests are our best interests.