(Pre-game introductory ceremonies)
(Aldo and Nicho)
Friday, October 10, 2008
Mexico vs. Honduras
The game between Mexico and Honduras was a fun game held in the historic Estadio Azteca. The same Estadio Azteca where Argentine legend Diego Maradona scored the infamous "Hand of God" goal and where he also ran past and juked like 5 or 6 English players from mid-field to score one of the best goals ever. It was a fun game that saw the Mexican side control most of the game but still found themselves losing 1-0 (one-nil as the Enlglish would say) on a beautiful shot scored off a free kick by the Hondureños. The score remained that way until the mid-second half and than Pavel Pardo saved the day for the Mexican side scoring off a free kick and then off a rebound where he honestly kicked a laser of a shot to put the Mexicans up for good. The Honduran side played tough and almost completed the nearly impossible, which is beat Mexico in Estadio Azteca. A place where they have only lost once in eliminatory games. Overall, it was a lot of fun and here are some pictures and I'll try to load video later. Enjoy!
(Pre-game introductory ceremonies)
(Aldo and Nicho)
(Pre-game introductory ceremonies) (Aldo and Nicho)
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Visiting with Mari.
I am making a special post for meeting with Maricela. I first met Maricela in 2006 when I was studying at UNAM in Mexico City. We took a class together on Labor Migration and she was easily one of the friendliest people I have met not only in my class but also in Mexico. Once you spend a little time with Mari, as I like to call her, then you will realize that she is one of the most joyful people in the world. She finds the joy in the smallest things and it begins to rub off on you. She always is carrying a smile and happiness flows through her. Anyway, Mari only thought it would be right for me to pay a visit to her family after all of these years....and so I did, and I don't regret it. It was fun to hang out with her beautiful family and talk about life, social issues, politics, etc. These are some pictures from when I went to visit and eat dinner at Mari's home, just right outside of the city lines (literally, like a few blocks away begins Mexico City.) Oh yeah, her mom cooks hella bomb food...
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Tierra de mi abuelito
After a sixteen hour truck ride, half of which was spent in the back of the pickup. A slightly painful trip but also again a trip filled with splendid views of a diverse Mexican landscape and an excursion that led me through the mountains and jungle like scenery of Puerto Vallarta to the grandeur of Guadalajara City, on through the countryside full of crops and various tequila plants filled with miles and miles of the maguey plant crop. We passed through Zacatecas where my mom's side of the family is from and later Aguascalientes and finally we arrived to our destination. Venado, San Luis Potosi, la tierra de mi Abuelito.
My time spent in Venado was short because I had to report to Mexico City, however, in that brief period of time it was good to meet other family members for the first time and to see where my Abuelito grew up. I met my grandpa's sisters and brothers. Sweet moments of life and wisdom were shared, like when my Tia Estefana reminded me of sabbath taking. She closed her little makeshift store in one of the rooms of the house that is conveniently on the corner of the street every week out respect for the sabbath. She told me “En el séptimo día, Dios tomó un día de descanso. Por eso, cierro la tiendita…” (On the seventh day, God took a day of rest. That's why I close the store). It reminded me that God still provides for my family even in economic uncertainty.
I had the chance to see, or better, imagine, what life must have been like on the rancho. I had the chance to taste fresh aguamiel which is taken from the maguey plant once it completes a certain age. Without a doubt, it is a Mexican rarity and treat. Family members who lived there still lived a very different lifestyle than one I am accustomed to. Many lived the same way as those who came before them for generations and generations. Of course some things had changed. Even something like a rancho, where the closest neighbor could be half a mile away or more, could not remain virgin from a globalizing world. Chevy and Ford trucks replaced horses or just the use of legs as a method of transportation as well as farming techniques.
One moment that was special for me was visiting the well where my Abuelito and his brothers would retrieve water and the small canal bank which provided the source. I saw my Tio climb the stairs enthusiastically and even my Abue, whose brittle legs don't hold up so well from day to day, made his way determined to relive the memories this space elicited even as it stood now as a relic. I'm not sure what exactly they thought about. The moment was too peaceful to interrupt. I all of sudden became extremely sensitive to the elements around us. Wind breezes soothingly blowing by while the leaves whispered age-old wisdom and the branches crackled rhythmically off-beat. Meanwhile, it was apparent that this moment was special for my Abuelito. “Yo siempre venía aqui mijo. Jugaba aqui. Sacaba el agua para mi mama...” (I always used to come here son. I used to play here. I used to get water for my mom...") I was trying to recall how and when I ever felt something similar to try and identify in this moment. I knew what my abuelito meant. In that magically surreal moment, I began to understand better what this meant for him. It is like those moments where the spaces that one occupies and inhabits begins to develop meaning and significance on its own. Where the space itself is no longer defined by those who use it, but also the other way around. The space begins to define and shape the being and vice versa. The two become inseparable forever burned into one another. This is what this moment meant for him and now interestingly enough...for me.
My time spent in Venado was short because I had to report to Mexico City, however, in that brief period of time it was good to meet other family members for the first time and to see where my Abuelito grew up. I met my grandpa's sisters and brothers. Sweet moments of life and wisdom were shared, like when my Tia Estefana reminded me of sabbath taking. She closed her little makeshift store in one of the rooms of the house that is conveniently on the corner of the street every week out respect for the sabbath. She told me “En el séptimo día, Dios tomó un día de descanso. Por eso, cierro la tiendita…” (On the seventh day, God took a day of rest. That's why I close the store). It reminded me that God still provides for my family even in economic uncertainty.
I had the chance to see, or better, imagine, what life must have been like on the rancho. I had the chance to taste fresh aguamiel which is taken from the maguey plant once it completes a certain age. Without a doubt, it is a Mexican rarity and treat. Family members who lived there still lived a very different lifestyle than one I am accustomed to. Many lived the same way as those who came before them for generations and generations. Of course some things had changed. Even something like a rancho, where the closest neighbor could be half a mile away or more, could not remain virgin from a globalizing world. Chevy and Ford trucks replaced horses or just the use of legs as a method of transportation as well as farming techniques.
One moment that was special for me was visiting the well where my Abuelito and his brothers would retrieve water and the small canal bank which provided the source. I saw my Tio climb the stairs enthusiastically and even my Abue, whose brittle legs don't hold up so well from day to day, made his way determined to relive the memories this space elicited even as it stood now as a relic. I'm not sure what exactly they thought about. The moment was too peaceful to interrupt. I all of sudden became extremely sensitive to the elements around us. Wind breezes soothingly blowing by while the leaves whispered age-old wisdom and the branches crackled rhythmically off-beat. Meanwhile, it was apparent that this moment was special for my Abuelito. “Yo siempre venía aqui mijo. Jugaba aqui. Sacaba el agua para mi mama...” (I always used to come here son. I used to play here. I used to get water for my mom...") I was trying to recall how and when I ever felt something similar to try and identify in this moment. I knew what my abuelito meant. In that magically surreal moment, I began to understand better what this meant for him. It is like those moments where the spaces that one occupies and inhabits begins to develop meaning and significance on its own. Where the space itself is no longer defined by those who use it, but also the other way around. The space begins to define and shape the being and vice versa. The two become inseparable forever burned into one another. This is what this moment meant for him and now interestingly enough...for me.
Monday, September 8, 2008
"Mock" news=real news?
Being here in Mexico, I don't really have a TV (idiot box), but I do have internet that is from the the stone age that loads 5 minute clips on youtube in like an hour. Haha, nah, I'm kidding but it is hella slow though. Anyway, the thought crossed my mind the other day that we live in an unintellectual era starting from your good ol' boy from Texas sittin' in the oval office all the way down to mainstream news sources, and sadly a dumbed down generation of people whose minds have been littered with useless information. I'm no exception either. I constantly feel the temptation to fall into this cycle and sometimes do. There is a socialization process taking place that urges us to be ignorant and detached from the truths of the world around us. I know, I'm starting to sound like Morpheus from the Matrix. Anyway, an example, fellow citizens are dying in a "war" that initiated on the lies of our government, the pretext of the "War on Terror" campaign, and faulty premises, but one wouldn't be able to tell by talking to the everyday American. People are numb to it all. In contrast, the Vietnam War aka the "Vietnam 'Conflict'" in U.S. textbooks because 'war' wasn't declared by congress (but we all know it was a war), sparked the momentum of a civil rights movement that was grand on many scales but...well...did not do enough (more segregated today than the time of Brown v. Board, still police brutalities taking place in ethnic communities, a growing wealth and inequality gap, an unjust justice system that persecutes ethnic minorities more harshly, etc.) It was all short lived with the rise of the "New Right" (damn you Reagan! haha!). Anyway, back to Vietnam. People were moved by the news coming in from testimonies of soldiers, reporters reporting incredibly from the ground. The news actually helped to stir the U.S. public to mobilize and rightfully so. Now...people can barely mobilize themselves to get off a couch and make themselves something to eat. Playing or being dumb is popular and marketable now. How does this happen? It's like we're a degenerate population. I don't mean to sound elitist although I might be doing a good job at it, but I can't help but feel that sometimes the retrogression of hummankind starts with us. I saw a clip of a recent show on "The Daily Show with John Stewart" on youtube and thought it was...well, funny. I thought to myself that it was sad that a program designed to deliver news in comedic fashion could actually be more critical and useful than actual mainstream sources whose "purpose" is to actually provide news. I wish news in general could be half as honest and critical as "The Daily Show". I hope you enjoy, and thanks to John Stewart and Co. for exposing the snakes hypocrites among us!!! Peace!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMiUAcEJY98
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YMiUAcEJY98
Monday, September 1, 2008
Woe to thee Merced!
Sadly, Merced has made big headlines in the NY Times but for unimpressive reasons. I know too many people who have been affected by this including my family. Here is the link:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/24/business/24house.html?pagewanted=1&adxnnlx=1220327998-42Abj1WqJYdhr9MEOMHDvA
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/24/business/24house.html?pagewanted=1&adxnnlx=1220327998-42Abj1WqJYdhr9MEOMHDvA
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Putting a face to the effects of flawed systems
Some of you may have already seen this, but I read this story and I was extremely touched by this man's story. It goes to show that we have some heavily flawed systems in the U.S. and throughout the world. It is a long article and there is a video that can be viewed in the article as well, but I think it's worth the 25 min. to read and watch the video.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/us/03deport.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&th&emc=th&adxnnlx=1218560790-X2NYmp3rSfnFGan2qSV7RQ
Blessings,
SZ
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/03/us/03deport.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&th&emc=th&adxnnlx=1218560790-X2NYmp3rSfnFGan2qSV7RQ
Blessings,
SZ
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Zancudo, Puerto Vallarta and the Zancudos pican!!!
My apologies to you the reader. I don't really know if I have any readers but to those you, if any of you, swing by here, I apologize for being a bad blogger as of late. I attribute the shortage of entries to the scarcity of internet access here in Mexico when I first arrived, an intense month of classes in Mexico City, and preliminary research. However, the lack of entries is deceiving because I have managed to have quite a bit of fun in my time here. On that note, the following entries will be dedicated to just that, the highlights of my trip thus far. The first obviously being my visits to Puerto Vallarta, MX and to San Luis Potosi, MX.
My Grandpa and I left LAX approximately around 6:30am and we made one pit stop in Phoenix, AZ. In no time we found ourselves back on a plane but this time we were heading to our final destination, Puerto Vallarta, MX. We arrived in the early afternoon of July 2nd. The trip was smooth in general minus the fact that my guitar didn't show up in the luggage shoot. Una disculpa (an apology) from the staff workers and we were moving right along. I wonder what I'm going say to my family? This is exciting but admittedly, slightly awkward. I se
e all the people with anxious gazes. Which ones are my family members? Smiles...We were met with wide smiles and eager eyes and an indifferent little one occupied with her chupon (pacifier). There they were, my Tio Cristobal, Tia Petra and my little primas Karla and Daniela. After some abrazotes (hugs) and besitos (kisses), and a few mucho gusto (Good to meet you) greetings for good measure. I'm always so self-conscious about my Spanish when I'm around new people. We make it out to the the truck and cram in and we take off one piece of luggage lighter for Zancudo (Zancudos are pesky little mosquitoes that embark on recon missions in the night time and ambush you agressive attacks and by sun rise, there is not trace of them except for the aftermath which looks like bumps on your arms =) haha), a ranchito where my family resides about 30 minutes east of the coast and away from the tourist areas of Puerto Vallarta.
The view was amazing, although I can't say as much about the ride, which was rather stiff, perhaps to some extent painful. Despite this harsh (literally) truth, the tropical vivid green landscapes that filled the scenery sufficed to take my mind off how my rear-end was feeling or rather what it wasn't as I had began to lose sense of feeling there and other limbs. The pouring of rain that began along the way surprisingly gave the picturesque sights a more serene feel as the roads cleared and while animals has already sought refuge which left the views to stand alone.
The following days I spent hanging out with family, and once we passed all of the formal greetings, I got to know my little cousins better. We played soccer, went out to the mango orchard, saw their church, visited hot springs, went to the beach and I had the opportunity to sing worship songs with them and I got to learn a little more about their lives and what they do. Days were filled with work. Everyday, there was work to do but my family still made time to go to mass. The church was...well, it wasn't really anything physically speaking. It was a concrete slab with half-built brick walls around it and no roof. The altar
was placed in the back and there were some chairs. It wasn't exactly some type of pristine chapel or some "glorified" colonial structure. It was very raw and simple. Slightly disorganized and there wasn't exactly a set entrance or exit but still some order to it all I suppose. You could kind of enter from the wall of choice. However, there was something special about simplicity of it all. One doesn't stand in awe of structural design as much as they do in awe of God. No atmosphere created within the structure to help you imagine God in a set, "stereotypical" way. Just you and...well...God. This was easily one the most special moments for me.
Some of my female cousins worked in the tourist areas doing maintenance work at the hotels, while some of the younger ones bagged at a grocery store which is not uncommon in Mexico to see youth do such work. One of my little cousins told me that money she earns is off the tips. My male cousins mainly worked construction. One of them left his family in the state of Hidalgo for a few months to work and save money and then take it back to his family. He would do this every year for 2-3 months. Their lives were drastically different from the lives that my family members live in the U.S. and in many ways it was hard to see these realities. It was difficult to understand the sacrifices and struggles that they go through and even harder to accept. I did not, nor could I pretend that I could identify with their everyday challenges. I just stood frozen at everything before me, or at least it felt that way. Sadly, perhaps even pretentiously, I felt like I had to love out of obligation at first. My own family, yet like strangers I saw them.
Regardless of whether it was my first time meeting them. How pathetic that I could not see them and love them like my family, but yet I felt so loved by them from the moment that I met them. I replay the irony of this last statement, or perhaps it is not ironic at all. P
erhaps, it is the fact that I am so far removed from what it means to love and what it means to be in community and family. Perhaps, it is the fact that in the "world" I come from, the capitalistic, individualistic society of the U.S. has weakened the fiber of the family structure to the point that no matter how "close" I think my family is, it is still almost a process of resistance and struggle to maintain close relational ties. Or perhaps it's the fact that we're all so far removed from God's love. I myself, have constantly forgot God's love in my life. I had to question many times whether I really believed in God's "love" or is it something I just say because I'm "Christian". Another thought that crossed my my mind which I have always wrestled with is how come I can't just love like Jesus. To love freely. No barriers, to his love. Most people, including myself have all these inhibitions about love. As if love had prerequisites. As if there were formalities to approaching it all. Why can't I just see any one person, stranger, family, friend and feel at liberty about expressing love without questioning? On the contrary, how come it feels awkward to receive love from someone I don't necessarily know? It's almost a foreign concept. It is actually all a little frustrating but I feel this will be a question I will wrestle with more here in Mexico and more importantly, the implications of such a question will reveal much, I think, maybe I hope, about this odd thing called life. However, this is not the space to flesh out such things. Until next time. Peace!
My Grandpa and I left LAX approximately around 6:30am and we made one pit stop in Phoenix, AZ. In no time we found ourselves back on a plane but this time we were heading to our final destination, Puerto Vallarta, MX. We arrived in the early afternoon of July 2nd. The trip was smooth in general minus the fact that my guitar didn't show up in the luggage shoot. Una disculpa (an apology) from the staff workers and we were moving right along. I wonder what I'm going say to my family? This is exciting but admittedly, slightly awkward. I se
e all the people with anxious gazes. Which ones are my family members? Smiles...We were met with wide smiles and eager eyes and an indifferent little one occupied with her chupon (pacifier). There they were, my Tio Cristobal, Tia Petra and my little primas Karla and Daniela. After some abrazotes (hugs) and besitos (kisses), and a few mucho gusto (Good to meet you) greetings for good measure. I'm always so self-conscious about my Spanish when I'm around new people. We make it out to the the truck and cram in and we take off one piece of luggage lighter for Zancudo (Zancudos are pesky little mosquitoes that embark on recon missions in the night time and ambush you agressive attacks and by sun rise, there is not trace of them except for the aftermath which looks like bumps on your arms =) haha), a ranchito where my family resides about 30 minutes east of the coast and away from the tourist areas of Puerto Vallarta.
The view was amazing, although I can't say as much about the ride, which was rather stiff, perhaps to some extent painful. Despite this harsh (literally) truth, the tropical vivid green landscapes that filled the scenery sufficed to take my mind off how my rear-end was feeling or rather what it wasn't as I had began to lose sense of feeling there and other limbs. The pouring of rain that began along the way surprisingly gave the picturesque sights a more serene feel as the roads cleared and while animals has already sought refuge which left the views to stand alone.
The following days I spent hanging out with family, and once we passed all of the formal greetings, I got to know my little cousins better. We played soccer, went out to the mango orchard, saw their church, visited hot springs, went to the beach and I had the opportunity to sing worship songs with them and I got to learn a little more about their lives and what they do. Days were filled with work. Everyday, there was work to do but my family still made time to go to mass. The church was...well, it wasn't really anything physically speaking. It was a concrete slab with half-built brick walls around it and no roof. The altar
was placed in the back and there were some chairs. It wasn't exactly some type of pristine chapel or some "glorified" colonial structure. It was very raw and simple. Slightly disorganized and there wasn't exactly a set entrance or exit but still some order to it all I suppose. You could kind of enter from the wall of choice. However, there was something special about simplicity of it all. One doesn't stand in awe of structural design as much as they do in awe of God. No atmosphere created within the structure to help you imagine God in a set, "stereotypical" way. Just you and...well...God. This was easily one the most special moments for me.
Some of my female cousins worked in the tourist areas doing maintenance work at the hotels, while some of the younger ones bagged at a grocery store which is not uncommon in Mexico to see youth do such work. One of my little cousins told me that money she earns is off the tips. My male cousins mainly worked construction. One of them left his family in the state of Hidalgo for a few months to work and save money and then take it back to his family. He would do this every year for 2-3 months. Their lives were drastically different from the lives that my family members live in the U.S. and in many ways it was hard to see these realities. It was difficult to understand the sacrifices and struggles that they go through and even harder to accept. I did not, nor could I pretend that I could identify with their everyday challenges. I just stood frozen at everything before me, or at least it felt that way. Sadly, perhaps even pretentiously, I felt like I had to love out of obligation at first. My own family, yet like strangers I saw them.
Regardless of whether it was my first time meeting them. How pathetic that I could not see them and love them like my family, but yet I felt so loved by them from the moment that I met them. I replay the irony of this last statement, or perhaps it is not ironic at all. P
erhaps, it is the fact that I am so far removed from what it means to love and what it means to be in community and family. Perhaps, it is the fact that in the "world" I come from, the capitalistic, individualistic society of the U.S. has weakened the fiber of the family structure to the point that no matter how "close" I think my family is, it is still almost a process of resistance and struggle to maintain close relational ties. Or perhaps it's the fact that we're all so far removed from God's love. I myself, have constantly forgot God's love in my life. I had to question many times whether I really believed in God's "love" or is it something I just say because I'm "Christian". Another thought that crossed my my mind which I have always wrestled with is how come I can't just love like Jesus. To love freely. No barriers, to his love. Most people, including myself have all these inhibitions about love. As if love had prerequisites. As if there were formalities to approaching it all. Why can't I just see any one person, stranger, family, friend and feel at liberty about expressing love without questioning? On the contrary, how come it feels awkward to receive love from someone I don't necessarily know? It's almost a foreign concept. It is actually all a little frustrating but I feel this will be a question I will wrestle with more here in Mexico and more importantly, the implications of such a question will reveal much, I think, maybe I hope, about this odd thing called life. However, this is not the space to flesh out such things. Until next time. Peace!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Everyone Must See!
A real treat!
http://www.ibeatyou.com/competition/0775d8/best-movie-trailer-spoof/entry/afde0b/boomdizzle-and-me-stepbrothers-in-santa-monica
Enjoy!
SZ
http://www.ibeatyou.com/competition/0775d8/best-movie-trailer-spoof/entry/afde0b/boomdizzle-and-me-stepbrothers-in-santa-monica
Enjoy!
SZ
Monday, July 28, 2008
"property's not worth killing someone over"
So...a friend of mine sent me this story about a week and a half ago. When I first read it, I was a little disturbed. Amidst the sadness of this story, I also realized that the article did not answer a pretty obvious question. For example, it just mentions that the people who were shot were "suspected" burglars but never states if they actually "stole/robbed/burglarized" anything. When they investigated the scene, did they actually find anything on them? Secondly, out of curiosity, I would like to know what kind of grand jury allows someone to be acquitted for this? I'm not sure death was a punishment for "suspected" petty theft. Lastly, that district attorney seems pretty intent on letting this one slide based on his comments. I hate to bring the race card into this but from knowledge of historical injustices in the legal system that have existed up until this day based along race and class lines, there is a part of me that feels if the shooter were not white and the victims were, there would be a hefty price to pay. Of course, my thoughts are simply based off the article and prior knowledge. I will have to do more research to find out everything that happened. Here is the link.
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-shoot1-2008jul01,0,2089276.story
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-shoot1-2008jul01,0,2089276.story
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Kind of long but worth reading
http://blog.beliefnet.com/godspolitics/2008/07/bandaids-or-cures-by-alexis-va.html
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
40+ years later and still going...why?!?!?
I came upon this article when I was reading the news this morning. It's not very good news, but information we should all know regardless. I hope you'll be encouraged to take action in some way or form.
http://www.mercedsunstar.com/167/story/312487.html
If you would like further information regarding farm laborers and their struggle, you can join the UFW website for official updates and newsletters. Stay informed!
http://www.ufw.org/
My prayers go out to this family and I hope justice will be served.
SZ
http://www.mercedsunstar.com/167/story/312487.html
If you would like further information regarding farm laborers and their struggle, you can join the UFW website for official updates and newsletters. Stay informed!
http://www.ufw.org/
My prayers go out to this family and I hope justice will be served.
SZ
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
What all seniors do during their last finals...
Who says procrastination isn't good? Ok, it's really not when you have stuff to do, but at least you find cool random stuff when you browse on the web. Here are some videos I stumbled upon while desperately trying to avoid responsibility and reflection on the past four plus years.
In sum,
procrastination= not good but still so much more fun then actually studying or writing.
SZ
hillarious commercial
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToQ0c58IT3Y
sweet dance moves and actually a catchy song. (keep your eyes out for the guy pumping his sneakers in the beginning cuz that's straight old school! sick!)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYaZYmTwOxA
In sum,
procrastination= not good but still so much more fun then actually studying or writing.
SZ
hillarious commercial
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ToQ0c58IT3Y
sweet dance moves and actually a catchy song. (keep your eyes out for the guy pumping his sneakers in the beginning cuz that's straight old school! sick!)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYaZYmTwOxA
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
"Where amazing happens"
In an effort to procrastinate further, I've decided to waste five minutes of my time by doing something that puts a smile on my face as I approach finals week. I'm predicting the NBA Finals. The same NBA finals, that I will miss most of because I have finals. Most people have the Lakers winning in 6 or 7. They are better on paper since pulling off the heist of Pau Gasol. Their supporting cast is better relatively speaking and they have the overrated "Zen" master himself, Phil Jackson, who has won all his championships with the inheritance of incredible talent, and they have looked unstoppable in the post-season. I really don't have any good reason to pick Boston, besides the fact that I dislike the Lakers, I like Paul Pierce, AKA "the truth", and according to the NBA's marketing slogan of the finals this year, "This is where amazing happens". So I'm going to go out on a limb and say that something "amazing" is going to happen and that something "amazing" is the Celtics in 7. Yes, I know it, I'm in the minority, but the Celtics are going to pull through. The truth is that the Lakers are the safe bet, but "the truth" will have the last laugh in this year's finals at the expense of his childhood favorite team, the Lakers. Yeah...essentially, I am a Laker hater.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3LFQUCis1o&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oXdbBQ-3Rxs&feature=related
Everyone do themselves a favor and put on some green. Heck, grab some Killian's or Guinness if you like. I'll be thinking green in a week in a half, as in green pastures ahead after the dry long process of turning in my last final. Peace!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y3LFQUCis1o&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oXdbBQ-3Rxs&feature=related
Everyone do themselves a favor and put on some green. Heck, grab some Killian's or Guinness if you like. I'll be thinking green in a week in a half, as in green pastures ahead after the dry long process of turning in my last final. Peace!!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
gah i suck
So yeah...blogs. I'm consistently inconsistent with these. I suppose the rigors of UCSD life and other responsibilities have consumed me. Six months later and about three or four half unfinished posts I find myself here. Well...in four more weeks I will say farewell to UCSD and woo hoo meh-he-ko!!! Perhaps, posts will be more abundant when that time comes. Until then, I trudge through the battle zones of academia. Gahh!!! My face.
SZ
SZ
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
"No thank you, I like killing Muslims..."
Wow! I'm starting to question what the point of having a blog is, if I can't even keep up with it. Truth be told, I'm about three and half months away from my last entry, however, it only seems like a few weeks ago that I wrote it. I'm not sure how to feel about this. Perhaps, I haven't really taken the time to be reflective personally or just in general past few months or so, besides a gigantic update that I sent out to some select friends (hopefully that doesn't seem all exclusive, even though the statement inherently implies that but I can't lie, they're probably the only people that show significant interest in my life, if you're one of those people and reading this, I hope a simple "thanks" will suffice. :) ) It's hard to say how life has been the past few months in a nutshell, so I won't even attempt to do that, but I'll speak on some things that have crossed my mind the past few weeks. Aside from the harsh reality that my final quarter is going to be anything but lax, I'm ready to boldly take on the task of completing this quarter and doing it well. I have a suffocating schedule, but sprinting to the finish line I think is my only option. As long as I don't collapse along the way, I will be dreaming and smiling towards bigger and better things with arms wide open and with a humble heart ready (hopefully) to seek out what the Lord has for me.
The past few weeks have been quite eventful, and the fact that school has started up has really nothing to do with that. I've been pensive about different things. The 40th anniversary of MLK Jr.'s death, seeing some inspiring spoken word poets, thinking about how wack the news is, protesting, and to my delight, I was able to see two of my best friends from college, Miguel and Kevin. It has been quite a bit to consume but still a great week and half into the quarter nonetheless.
This past week I was able to see two great friends from college, Kevin and Miguel. It was brief, and a weekend together isn't really an ideal amount of time to catch up but then again, as I get older, I realize more and more that "ideal" is less and less. In any case, it was great to catch up from where things left off. No awkwardness had developed from the lapse of time passed without much conversation. It felt like stepping into your favorite pair of shoes. It was comfortable and refreshing. We talked, and hung out, played some Rock Band, shared laughs, and it was by far one of the most simple but enjoyable weekends I have had all year.
The 40th anniversary of MLK Jr. assassination was last Friday on April 4th. If you didn't know about it, it's probably because the media didn't care about it enough spend time covering it. In fact, if you were me, I assume you probably still saw the Sean Hannitys, Glen Becks, Bill O'Reilly', Lou Dobbs, (Name of other conservative political pundit). I don't know, anyone can take their pick. These guys were probably running off the mouth about the same stuff, asserting their neo-conservative agenda on the airwaves. Why these guys have shows is beyond me, and why people even listen to their narrow-minded, non-objective material is saddening. I don't even bother. Most of the time I laugh at what they say and then I have to remind myself that I'm contributing to their ratings. Whatever though, my personal boycott would have no lasting effect on their ratings. Seriously, I already know everything these guys are going to say. Glenn Beck is going to talk about Reverend Wright's comments and attack Obama's character. Sean Hannity takes the same route. Dobbs will talk about the need to "protect" our borders and trash immigrants. At least O'Reilly has diversity, but still nonobjective. These guys will probably ride this material until the elections are finished.
Back to MLK, I was fortunate enough to see some clippings of MLK Jr's last speech that he gave. It was by far one of the greatest speeches I've ever heard. He makes Obama look like child's play, and that's not really a dis because Obama is pretty damn good, however Obama looks more rehearsed at times whereas, MLK is raw but still so finely polished. Fire in his eyes, beads of sweat making their odyssey through the pores and finding a home all across his face, the masses who bundled up to see him were brimming with hope and inspiration by the time he was done. He had the uncanny ability to speak about very real issues almost poetically. The passion inside of him left with every word that came off the tip of his tongue. He left it all on the podium and there was no doubt that he was tired every single time as it showed in his body language. It felt like every single time he gave a little of his life in speeches, but not in vain. His words, animate as they were would not cease to die off but rather, just as quickly as they left the heart and then the tongue they met the desperate ears of the masses and gave life to people who's souls were dying, whose hearts were crying, except the world never had never heard their pain before because their yells were met with silence. The crowds usually left invigorated with a new sense of life. This almost sounds Christ-like in it's effect but this is really how I perceived it. In his final speech, it's by far one of the most chilling things to see MLK look up and boldly say that he doesn't fear any man, even amidst death threats that he received constantly. It was almost as if he was looking his potential killer in the eye and telling him he didn't fear him at all because he had already seen the "promiseland". It's all a little too surreal for me and it sends chills through the body while goose bumps begin to form.
Just as chilling is the RFK's announcement (also on youtube) of MLK's death. Upon the delivery of bad news, it seemed as if the whole crowd got punched in the stomach instantaneously. Inhaling something as foul as those words in the air that evening was nothing compared to exhales of hopes lost, dreams shattered, and beliefs in a better future crushed. Truly a gripping moment in history and one that I can only imagine the power of because I wasn't even alive to experience it. However, the thought of it still stings a little and lingers like a pungent stench. In any case, the sad thought of this really isn't what stands out the most to me in RFK's speech. What is most memorable is his message of reconciliation. I'm sure in the moment he said what people wanted to hear least. People just found out that one of the nation's most courageous leader had his life taken away from him through the cowardice act of assassination, and their emotions were probably everywhere, and RFK simply tells them to love. He tells them to be the example of love that they want see in the world. Again, very Christ-like, and very counter-intuitive to the images of violence and war they were seeing or hearing about. I really can't get enough of these two speeches, because they are relevant to our time now just as they were when Christ walked the earth. The messages of love, reconciliation, and compassion are timeless. Perhaps, because they are the only ones that we can't fully comprehend, grasp, or embody ourselves. Something is extremely appealing about these terms and how they are manifested and I'm not talking about the generalized, idealized contexts in which they are presented, but because they are truly revolutionary. They are the hardest revolutions to uptake because they first require the internal revolution. The inside of us, out into the world type of revolution. They require every individual to change how they think, perceive, act, etc. Plus the track record of anyone personifying those characteristics isn't too flattering. MLK, JFK, RFK, Malcolm X, Gandhi, Cesar Chavez, Mother Teresa, Che (debatable), Jesus (not debatable, heh). For the most part, that pattern suggests that to love is to die.
I often dream about this lifestyle. Being a part of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (IV, IVCF) for four years, I remember the tag lines of "Be a world changer" and the emergence and shift in the Fellowship from being mainly evangelistic towards being more holistic in it's approach and making a strong push for social justice. This comprehensive approach was easy to criticize being birthed into a space with a lot of young people who were hungry to see the world change, but didn't know where to begin. A few years later, a few years wiser, and a few pounds heavier, I still dream. Some may consider it akin to a youthful spirit that will fade with time as I step out into the real world and "realize" what I already know. That this lifestyle is not glamorous, not easy, sometimes not fun, dangerous, no guarantees that anything I do will bring praise to God, but I remain firm in my choice to dream. These notions were further affirmed to me as I protested yesterday against homeland security on our campus (I obviously don't like the idea that the UC funds the research of independent contractors to make weapons of mass destruction, that the military especially recruits people on the lower stratum of socioeconomic ladder, and since race and class are inextricably linked that means that people of color are specifically targeted even though lower class whites are make up most of the deaths, this among other things). I don't like the militarization of the border and the building of a wall instead of bridges to ensure that we accommodate the effects of globalization that we don't think twice about imposing on other people. While chanting with a voice that that was dying and passing out flyers, I received a comment from some random cat who was passing by. He responded to my passing out of flyers by saying "No thanks, I like killing Muslims" to which I kindly responded with a forced smile, "have a nice day." This was not the first time that I have heard such comments. Heck, I've been on the end of these types of comments more than once as well. For whatever reason he said it, it made me sad to know that there are people who still feel and think this way. Even if it was said to intentionally aggravate me, it's very mentioning was unacceptable. Not that I expected it, but IV didn't prepare me for action, but this was not due to lack of effort. Plus, nobody I know or have ever heard of has really got "change" down to a science. Many times, the change seems miraculous. One thing is certain though, and that is that the fundamentals of change were rooted in dreams, love, compassion and a heart for reconciliation. For the record, I don't believe that pursuing social justice comes narrowly by means of signs and chants but rather it's just one of many ways. And so I dream...
The past few weeks have been quite eventful, and the fact that school has started up has really nothing to do with that. I've been pensive about different things. The 40th anniversary of MLK Jr.'s death, seeing some inspiring spoken word poets, thinking about how wack the news is, protesting, and to my delight, I was able to see two of my best friends from college, Miguel and Kevin. It has been quite a bit to consume but still a great week and half into the quarter nonetheless.
This past week I was able to see two great friends from college, Kevin and Miguel. It was brief, and a weekend together isn't really an ideal amount of time to catch up but then again, as I get older, I realize more and more that "ideal" is less and less. In any case, it was great to catch up from where things left off. No awkwardness had developed from the lapse of time passed without much conversation. It felt like stepping into your favorite pair of shoes. It was comfortable and refreshing. We talked, and hung out, played some Rock Band, shared laughs, and it was by far one of the most simple but enjoyable weekends I have had all year.
The 40th anniversary of MLK Jr. assassination was last Friday on April 4th. If you didn't know about it, it's probably because the media didn't care about it enough spend time covering it. In fact, if you were me, I assume you probably still saw the Sean Hannitys, Glen Becks, Bill O'Reilly', Lou Dobbs, (Name of other conservative political pundit). I don't know, anyone can take their pick. These guys were probably running off the mouth about the same stuff, asserting their neo-conservative agenda on the airwaves. Why these guys have shows is beyond me, and why people even listen to their narrow-minded, non-objective material is saddening. I don't even bother. Most of the time I laugh at what they say and then I have to remind myself that I'm contributing to their ratings. Whatever though, my personal boycott would have no lasting effect on their ratings. Seriously, I already know everything these guys are going to say. Glenn Beck is going to talk about Reverend Wright's comments and attack Obama's character. Sean Hannity takes the same route. Dobbs will talk about the need to "protect" our borders and trash immigrants. At least O'Reilly has diversity, but still nonobjective. These guys will probably ride this material until the elections are finished.
Back to MLK, I was fortunate enough to see some clippings of MLK Jr's last speech that he gave. It was by far one of the greatest speeches I've ever heard. He makes Obama look like child's play, and that's not really a dis because Obama is pretty damn good, however Obama looks more rehearsed at times whereas, MLK is raw but still so finely polished. Fire in his eyes, beads of sweat making their odyssey through the pores and finding a home all across his face, the masses who bundled up to see him were brimming with hope and inspiration by the time he was done. He had the uncanny ability to speak about very real issues almost poetically. The passion inside of him left with every word that came off the tip of his tongue. He left it all on the podium and there was no doubt that he was tired every single time as it showed in his body language. It felt like every single time he gave a little of his life in speeches, but not in vain. His words, animate as they were would not cease to die off but rather, just as quickly as they left the heart and then the tongue they met the desperate ears of the masses and gave life to people who's souls were dying, whose hearts were crying, except the world never had never heard their pain before because their yells were met with silence. The crowds usually left invigorated with a new sense of life. This almost sounds Christ-like in it's effect but this is really how I perceived it. In his final speech, it's by far one of the most chilling things to see MLK look up and boldly say that he doesn't fear any man, even amidst death threats that he received constantly. It was almost as if he was looking his potential killer in the eye and telling him he didn't fear him at all because he had already seen the "promiseland". It's all a little too surreal for me and it sends chills through the body while goose bumps begin to form.
Just as chilling is the RFK's announcement (also on youtube) of MLK's death. Upon the delivery of bad news, it seemed as if the whole crowd got punched in the stomach instantaneously. Inhaling something as foul as those words in the air that evening was nothing compared to exhales of hopes lost, dreams shattered, and beliefs in a better future crushed. Truly a gripping moment in history and one that I can only imagine the power of because I wasn't even alive to experience it. However, the thought of it still stings a little and lingers like a pungent stench. In any case, the sad thought of this really isn't what stands out the most to me in RFK's speech. What is most memorable is his message of reconciliation. I'm sure in the moment he said what people wanted to hear least. People just found out that one of the nation's most courageous leader had his life taken away from him through the cowardice act of assassination, and their emotions were probably everywhere, and RFK simply tells them to love. He tells them to be the example of love that they want see in the world. Again, very Christ-like, and very counter-intuitive to the images of violence and war they were seeing or hearing about. I really can't get enough of these two speeches, because they are relevant to our time now just as they were when Christ walked the earth. The messages of love, reconciliation, and compassion are timeless. Perhaps, because they are the only ones that we can't fully comprehend, grasp, or embody ourselves. Something is extremely appealing about these terms and how they are manifested and I'm not talking about the generalized, idealized contexts in which they are presented, but because they are truly revolutionary. They are the hardest revolutions to uptake because they first require the internal revolution. The inside of us, out into the world type of revolution. They require every individual to change how they think, perceive, act, etc. Plus the track record of anyone personifying those characteristics isn't too flattering. MLK, JFK, RFK, Malcolm X, Gandhi, Cesar Chavez, Mother Teresa, Che (debatable), Jesus (not debatable, heh). For the most part, that pattern suggests that to love is to die.
I often dream about this lifestyle. Being a part of InterVarsity Christian Fellowship (IV, IVCF) for four years, I remember the tag lines of "Be a world changer" and the emergence and shift in the Fellowship from being mainly evangelistic towards being more holistic in it's approach and making a strong push for social justice. This comprehensive approach was easy to criticize being birthed into a space with a lot of young people who were hungry to see the world change, but didn't know where to begin. A few years later, a few years wiser, and a few pounds heavier, I still dream. Some may consider it akin to a youthful spirit that will fade with time as I step out into the real world and "realize" what I already know. That this lifestyle is not glamorous, not easy, sometimes not fun, dangerous, no guarantees that anything I do will bring praise to God, but I remain firm in my choice to dream. These notions were further affirmed to me as I protested yesterday against homeland security on our campus (I obviously don't like the idea that the UC funds the research of independent contractors to make weapons of mass destruction, that the military especially recruits people on the lower stratum of socioeconomic ladder, and since race and class are inextricably linked that means that people of color are specifically targeted even though lower class whites are make up most of the deaths, this among other things). I don't like the militarization of the border and the building of a wall instead of bridges to ensure that we accommodate the effects of globalization that we don't think twice about imposing on other people. While chanting with a voice that that was dying and passing out flyers, I received a comment from some random cat who was passing by. He responded to my passing out of flyers by saying "No thanks, I like killing Muslims" to which I kindly responded with a forced smile, "have a nice day." This was not the first time that I have heard such comments. Heck, I've been on the end of these types of comments more than once as well. For whatever reason he said it, it made me sad to know that there are people who still feel and think this way. Even if it was said to intentionally aggravate me, it's very mentioning was unacceptable. Not that I expected it, but IV didn't prepare me for action, but this was not due to lack of effort. Plus, nobody I know or have ever heard of has really got "change" down to a science. Many times, the change seems miraculous. One thing is certain though, and that is that the fundamentals of change were rooted in dreams, love, compassion and a heart for reconciliation. For the record, I don't believe that pursuing social justice comes narrowly by means of signs and chants but rather it's just one of many ways. And so I dream...
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