My New Year Facebook Greeting

There's quite a handful of people that will be with me tonight at midnight, those whom I hold dear and have blessed me with their presence through the year, my family. Of all reasons to be thankful, this is the main, the foremost. My parents and grandfather are healthy and enjoying all opportunities that God send our way, and so are my sisters, their husbands and children. To them, I'll be able to say "I love you" face to face and it is an indescribable feeling, a chance not to be taken for granted.

I will dedicate this post though, to a number of my facebook peeps that correspond with me through the internets, shortening distances. So, to those I won't be seeing tonite, but to whom I type away every other day... this one's for you, in no particular order whatsoever ;p

The Friends:

• Mariah: May the New Year find you new wheels and give you a broader, bigger stage and may we find an opportunity to further our partnering in crime... I owe you one of those phone calls in which we check that we are not really mad at each other and just corroborate how lazy we both are :p. In the meantime lots of love and blessings.
• Robin: May the New Year bring you that one cape you've been missing... I do believe super heroes come from all walks of life and you do inspire me with your pieces of advise that keep adding spice to life... okay, what the heck, with JC's approval, may the year bring you the chance at a cup of coffee with Ryan Reynolds
• Mayra: I do wish the year will bring me a chance to go see you :) Let me tell you something that I might not have told you before, everytime you hit a "like" on one of my silly status, I feel like it is a bit of a push uphill, and I appreciate it. May the year find blessed and fulfilled and may it pay you back in joy whatever this one took away in tears.
• Eric: You have everything you want as for you the simple things in life are enough and will suffice, may the year grant you absolutely everything you need, because life has a way to provide for those who know how to give to others, if there's anyone deserving, it is you.
• Rafa: may this year find you with love and family and memories you'll cherish.. and ring your way lots of work, since you love what you do!!!
• Vivian: You have your fortress, your Mage and two enchanted princesses... may the year grant you all you need to weave your awesome spells: faith, love in loads, your children's laughter and a double dose of courage, since you wield it so well as to make us all humble with your daily words and actions.
• Yani: A mini cooper, of course, brand new and better than the one you lost!!!!! and health, lots of health and spare time to share with those you love
• Angie: May the year find you with yet more reasons to spread laughter and joy to all of us and keep cooking and posting those wonderful plates of yours!!!! LOL
• Rosa: What ever the year won't bring you, you'll squeeze it out of the sucker anyway!!!! Thank you for being a spark of crazy, sexy and cool. Keep marching to the beat of your own drum, because that is why we love you
• Rosanna: May the year bring you warmth, more than anything, LOL. I've been horrid with phone calls I know, but I do love you, thanks for unexpected visits in the middle of the night and such, that is what crazy friends are for ;)
• Eladio: I'm so glad to see the signature Pastor by your name, may God and this New Year keep granting you the wisdom and compassion to lead and open the gates to all His blessings over you and your family
• Ricky: You get what everyone gets... 12 full moons baby, make the best out of each one and may this New Year find you that she-wolf to go howling mad about, among other things... thanks for keeping the bad guys in check
• David: Mr. D!!!! We are all a work in process and God is really doing his best on applying a wonderful detail into your life, may the New Year find you following the light of that beacon you discovered and may it shine as brightly as the first time you found Him.
• Ismael: May the New Year find you discovering new avenues to convey your talent ans share it with all... success, success!!!!

My family: (I'll kinda cheat on this one since there are some peeps I'll see tonite anyway, but I'll include them since they are also Facebook partners in Crime, LOL)

• My daddy: May the year find you exactly where I plan to leave you tonight at midnight, by my mommy!!!! LOL. I have the blessing of seeing you everyday and believe me is something I do not take for granted, every word you ever told me is a treasure in itself, keep being a rock for all of us. I luv you my daddyyyyyy!!!!!
• Titi: My second mom, with whom I hang about every week as part of my commitment to "El Club de Semi-Viejas" may the New Year find us with places to go and things to do to shake stress and boredom... and lots of points to accrue in JUST DANCE!!!!
• Michelle and Izzy, because as I write I can't keep you separated: Thank you sweet, sweet cousin for putting up with my wacky, upbeat, gory writing and taking it all as if I actually paid you to proof read... may the year find you with a lot of patience 'cause there are more stories coming your way. Izzy, thanks for putting up with me dragging your wife into all things weird, one of these days I'll pay you with a movie we can ALL see LOL
• Lysandra, Leo and Lysanel-though she doesn't have a FB page :p May the year find you keeping that open line with Jesus that works wonders for all of us, sister. To my brother in law, may the year find you sharing those lessons in life that you know how to impart so well, that mix of streetsmarts and compassion that makes you and unique addition to our family, and Ms Chinks, may the new year find you wearing one of your many crowns and filling us all with cheer all year long
• Ken Ken: Fame doesn't wait, so I believe the new year will find you fighting for all you believe in and with the will of God, will come your way. Keep on being our little engine that could, smart undercover ninja, artiste extraordinaire, sports jock and altogether lovely young lady
• Lysania and Eduardo: May the new year bring you further blessing, but I'll talk to you at midnight, since you have no facebook accounts, LOL
• Frankie: Long lost cuz found through FB, may the year find you basking in the sun of beautiful Cali, counting your blessings and imparting those warm slices of luuuuv you keep sending our way, big, big hug.

AND TO ALL BEST WISHES IN 2011!!!! May the year find you remembering the date change, so you won't mess up your checks, letters and other documents, LOL

To the best friend in the whole world, counting down to her birthday

Mariah:

I've known you for almost twenty years now, that's a long, long time. It's only fair to say though that it feels like you have been there through my lifetime. You know me, the real me, better than my sisters, than my parents ever will. Family is funny concept,there are the guys you love because they are blood and there are the ones you let in because they are your blood type.

Each year I wreck my brain trying to find a present that you will enjoy more than anything in the world. It's damn hard, almost impossible and as it turns out, I end up buying something that fits me like a glove. You'll open it and smile and thank me with the kindness of your heart, making a little mental note about my tendency towards the cult of personality.

If you have taken the time to notice how I is so prominent in this letter, then you catch my drift. This is, after all another egotistical missive. A musing of myself to myself praising my greatest accomplishment at a personal level: to score a friend like you.

There are lots of things you have done for me that turned out to be advantageous over the years, more than- I unashamedly admit- I have done for you. I might be self centered and a bit megalomaniac, but I curb myself enough to be grateful.

So, here it goes, Myself and I present the many reasons why you are my best friend and I love you, maybe not more, but as much as I love ME.

• You are the oddest person I know. Take it as a compliment, wear it proudly. It has nothing to do with the way you look or the things you do, but with what you give. You are a beacon my dear, a crazy magnet. The wild, lost child that lives in me, saw you, held tight to your jean straps and never let go. Together we walked out of a Metal Mission Meeting, never looking back. After all, better than killer riffs God loves a twisted, dark sense of humor and we've been laughing at His jokes ever since then.






• You are also the most patient person I've ever known. Back when I was twenty and decided I'd live my life, write the great American novel, have an extravagant affair and die, gloriously spent and filthy rich- or genius Poe poor, depending on the mood-at twenty five, you read all my stories. You read them, even though you secretly wanted to be a Rock Star as far from my prose as possible. You read them and gave me nice pointers that I found best to follow. As you did, you didn't wrinkle your nose or rolled your eyes. It might have crossed your mind to burst my bubble. More than once the stars were perfectly aligned for you to say: "Stop it, you pompous ass, Stoker sits in the Throne with Rice at his right and Brite at his left and this shit ain't worth a pass"- but you never did. Thank you






• There's something that started back then and lingers today, oblivious to time and distance between us. It's scary now, as it was then and still a mystery. As I recall it all began with Louis de Pointe Dulac and his eventual incarnation in Brad Pitt. Ever since, we've shared the same fangirl obsessions. Our current fixations need not to be discussed as whatever rocks your boat will also make waves around mine, except for werewolves.






• You are the most enduring friend I've ever had because you understand that I hate phones and will sacrifice hours on the line for thirty minutes of solid face to face interaction. Whenever I don't call, you know I'm fine and when I do, you know it's also well. When we meet in any given airport for one of our crazy escapades and I hug you really, really tight with complete disregard of breaking bones, it feels that I just saw you yesterday.






• While at it, thank you for Florida, New York, New Orleans, a hazy weekend in Baltimore, a week in Rome and the best day I've had in the Island, trying to figure out whales from rolling waves and figments of overactive imagination at Rincon Beach. Fortuna and Bacchus know where my next drunken revelation will take us. You always say yes with ease and I end up having the best of times.






• All in all you've been with me through thick and thin. Your eyes didn't hurt when I went through my monochromatic period of clothes and accessories back in the early 90's. Your delicate strides put up with my clumsy construction style boots while we made our way through College. Well, you made your way. I frantically ran through Physics and Psychology with long intervals of failure in Math until my weary brain decided to give up and go for Literature. Thanks for the long days of trying to burn into my psyche the numerical interpretation of the phrase ALL SILVER TEA CUPS while I fancied pouring delicious, sweet, steamy concoctions in each one of them.






• You've been there in my comings and goings, my stepping in and falling on my ass off the diet wagon, my many changes of mood, surpassed only by my changes in hair color,my rants, comedic or not, my drama, my thinking I've found Mr. Right and my swearing off looking. It's been almost twenty years of tagging along, running scared, avoiding Karaoke, getting lost in parking lots, being the victims of alien life force, talking nonsense of great meaning, doing snail mail, email, Facebook, talking on the phone a lot less than we should, taking walking tours and museum exploring to new heights, guy, errr, bird watching and a whole bunch of miscellaneous stuff.

Through all and in truth, I don't know exactly how many times I've stopped to say THANK YOU, but since I don't remember I don't think there's been enough. I still have some twenty odd days to get your birthday present. I'm afraid I might not nail it in the head, old habits die hard after all.

Sometimes I look at Kendra who is right here and now the one person I love more than myself. Remember that day I forgot all about your birthday and dragged you through the mall hunting for a Tickle Me Ernie because I was so uber excited about my niece? My very best friend went presentless and elapsed because I had baby fever. I hit myself over the head for it through all the weekend, because of my forgetfulness and your gracious silence about it. Had it been me, I would have gone " Hell-Oh, it's my frigging birthday!!!!!!" I guess my point is she is growing up so fast and starting to differentiate between classmates, acquaintances and true and through friends. I hope, for her sake and for my peace of mind that she finds this one wonderful, uncompromised, crazy friend that will be as good as mine. A friend like you is good enough to be set for life.

Many happy, happy returns, my sister from another mister.

9/11 and those who won't let the collective get some closure

It started a bit reflection, ended a bit Theology Corner, but it always happens to my with this particular day...

I am done with my grief. I am ready to move forward. I said so last year on the first anniversary of the event in which I was able to watch footage of it all without hot tears streaming down. Last year I was able to discuss it with my niece, who was barely 3 years old at back then, for the very first time, because I wanted to do it with a clear sense of history, without chocking or sobbing.







It doesn't mean that I will forget the clothes that I was wearing on that day, or the fact that Lysandra dug her nails deep into my left arm as she screamed "oh my God there's another plane coming" as we watched a live feed. And I'm still grateful to God that the initial word that escaped my mouth after measuring act and consequence was "mercy."







Yes I went through the motions. The cursing, the raging, the wishing the US Military will change the landscape of whatever country was behind it forever... the attempt at understanding a a new war that was to be waged that is tinged with a religious aspect that the Western World does not seem to understand completely, the quiet mourning for people I didn't know, that the world didn't know and yet in an instant, we all had but one degree of separation. I've witnessed as through the years it has all become a note on political landscape, yet another reason to play the blame game every four years. I also saw the heart of a city catch it's beat again, never stopping, unbreakable. I'm just glad that through all this, "mercy" stayed with me.







Which brings me to the latest point of contention and you know this is coming. "Park 51 Project" was going to take center piece on my little musing today, until it's crazy brother "International Burn a Koran Day" reared it's ugly head in my own backyard.







Before anyone starts thinking how the hell can I raise two disparate things to the same level, well I was never good at math, but one thing that I really liked about numbers it that they all had a lowest common denominator. At the heart of the matter of these two separate issues lies a simple truth: just because you are granted to do something, doesn't mean you have to, doesn't make it right.







Lots of people have risen up to criticize president Obama on his declarations about Park 51 Project (that's how it's called although it is AKA Ground Zero Mosque). Obama might not be my cup of tea as many know, but I will grant him the fair chance to go over ALL his words in the matter. I will paraphrase boys and girls since you are smart enough to look up your sources, The President granted the right to build, but also declined to comment on the wisdom behind the decision.







Everyone knows that nothing will stand if the ground is not ready and although NYC rises on a bedrock, the emotional landscape is not ready, not yet, because the collective has not found their peace.







My advise to the people behind Park 51, build it if you must, but build it as a bridge, open it to Jews and Christians and openly condemn those who thirst for violence. In order for all to heal, you can't keep your religion and your intentions veiled from the city (ALL puns intended). If you have to build it there, then do so and preach it hard, for the world to hear:



"Oh man kind , you where created from a single soul, male and female, and made you into nations and tribes, so that you may come to know one and other. Truly the most honored of you in Allah's sight is the greatest of you in piety. Allah is all knowing, All aware." The Quran 49:13



It is time, in the best interest of all, that moderate Islam articulates heavily and vehemently their opposition to the radicalization of their religion. I would have given my right arm to hear the words Mecca condemns you, the Prophet abhors you and Allah will show no mercy in relation to Osama bin Laden back then, or even now. That alone would have won the war on terror. It is the challenge to those behind Park 51, they owe it to us all, to live by their book in it's purest undiluted interpretation. It is not my book, it's yours, it is not my opportunity, it's yours. Use it, and do so well. If you can't live up to what the city expects of you, of what is right to all, you have the right to build, just not there, as easy as that.





MY book says a couple of interesting things too, things that I will gladly share with "Pastor" Terry Jones, here in sunny Florida.





I will go off and I'll do so harder than I could go on crazed Muslims, because it is my Bible, my religion, my responsibility towards fellow men and my Christ on the line here.


Stop the hatred and the thinly disguised bigotry. That is not the path to healing. Stop the vicious rhetoric and the false idea that acts like this will strengthen Christianity and unite people of faith.





Christians are loosing ground in this Country because of people like you, a vocal minority that is selling us all out as grade A lunatics. I am a Christian and I live by a simple act of faith that comprises believing that Jesus is both God and His anointed one, that he came to Earth, lived, died and resurrected and will come back again to judge both living and dead.While that moment comes, as His follower, it is my call to prevent judgement by bringing about His message:


"LOVE one and other, as I have loved you" (John 15:12) It is so simple, yet so direct that the word love appears 554 times through and through... I guess my book is not your book.





Giving into this ridiculous act of mock patriotism and pseudo religious piety will not only endanger troops overseas- (Dear Pastor Terry Jones and your Yosemite Sam mustache, get ready for your Al Qaeda closeup, you'll be their recruiting poster boy, you fruitcake)- it will destroy any good faith between religions. Go ahead and burn your bridges to dialogue, if you want, but don't do it in the name of my God and my Savior, do not tarnish my faith as some other crazies in the Middle East have tarnished theirs.

If you can't speak in love if you can't walk in love, you still have the right to spew your idiocy, but take God out of the equation, place the root of you actions where they truly belong, as easy as that.





For the sake of all lost and those who are still in harms way, let's keep this day, September 11, holy to all, open to all. It is our tragedy, it is our right to rise above it without people raising their own standards in the name of us all. I'm done with my grief and will wait for the time when we all forgive the acts and never forget the lessons of 9/11.

En Español para el mundo o que carajo paso en Puerto Rico ayer

El titulo nada mas les dejara saber que estoy espantada, indignada, con el muy folklorico ojo cuadrado tratando de organizar las piezas del rompecabeza informativo ( inserte su chiste alegorico a la fuerza de cho que aqui) que pude observar ayer.

Advertencia, si mis comentarios iniciales me hacen sonar como Neanderthal PNP corazon del rollo y pity-yankee residente de la Florida, no pierda su fe y siga leyendo, voy a llegar a algun lado.

Voy a cubrir el aspecto de la noticia que nadie ha cubierto. Desde ayer se esta hablando de abusos en contra del cuerpo estudiantil por parte de la Policia de Puerto Rico. Aparentemente el titular que me perdi fue "Policia arremete contra jovenes que pasivamente jugaban Monopolio frente a las escalinatas del Capitolio"... alguien debe sacar a colacion de que esto no fue una protesta de desobediencia civil a lo Martin Luther King. Nadie le solto los perros a gente que pedia o exigia (si porque el que protesta en razon tiene derecho a exigir) hacer escuchar su voz. Hubieron incidentes que dieron paso a la trsite y vergonzosa violencia que se desencadeno un poco mas tarde. No olvidemos que entre las imagenes que se vieron ayer, por lo menos aqui en Florida, se pudo observar:

• Gente removiendo las barreras de seguridad y tirandolas contra la policia... porque las barreras se ven feas y hay que reacomodarlas


• Individuos "bañando" a varios mienbros de la fuerza de choque, porque no hay nada mas refrescante que recibir un buen vaso de agua en la cara con 95 grados de calor... supongo que hay que ser agradecido


• No nos olvidemos de mis favoritas, la boricua bestial que cruzo linea de piquete para darle un cantazo por la espalda a un guardia (si porque valen 10 puntos cada uno y te gana "street cred" en el Departamento de Humanidades) y la que decidio vaciarle su potecito de MACE individual a otro agente de la fuerza. Que ganaste con eso, mi hermana, que el tipo sacara su santo pote industrial y te lo vaciara encima.

En perspectiva, si yo hubiese estado en Puerto Rico, probablemente fuera simpatica con los asuntos de estudiantado, apesar de todo soy de las personas que piensa que la educacion es clave. De igual manera no hubiera recibido ni un cocotazo, porque aun estando ahi , hubiese entendido que el respeto es tambien clave. No hay que tener varios PhD's en serie para entender que si te pones a joder demasiado con el individuo que tiene la macana... traer esta lucha a la calle tratando de fajarse con el policia no es la respuesta. No me piensen cobarde, pero este tipo de "guerras" las gana la estrategia, no el "martirio".

Sacando esto del medio ahora le toca la zurra a la Policia de Puerto Rico y la presente administracion. El cielo se abre, hay un cataclismo, Lynnette Santiago, PNP, pity-yankee por excelencia e hija de policias esta apunto de decir, se pasaron carajo.

Quien me conoce lo sabe, en mi casa mientras vivi en Puerto Rico se veia, respiraba, y de vez en cuando comia policia. No estoy hablando de guardias guillaos, estoy hablando de que mi santo padre paso a los anales de la historia de la Policia de Puerto Rico como Top Notch hijoeputa (love u daddy). Capitan en el area de Ponce no era facil y sin embargo sobrevivio treinta años con una reputacion del carajo y sin nada inmoral o ilegal que manchara su paso por la Fuerza. Cuando se es Policia de esa manera, de carrera, se desarrolla una vocacion que de convierte en un respeto profundo hacia la comunidad que se sirve. Por supuesto que no todo el mundo le caia bien a nivel personal o politico, pero a la hora de coordinar, proteger y servir lo hacia ne beneficio de TODO el pueblo de Puerto Rico, porque eso es lo que sucede cuando un policia se reconoce a si mismo como un representante del gobierno. Trabajas para la Administracion y protejes a los que estan en su contra ideologica de igual manera.

La policia que vi ayer no es la Policia de mi papa, si bien se establecio que hubo causa, la retribucion fue sin lugar a duda brutal, desmedida e innecesaria. Verguenza, verguenza y hasta lagrimas es lo que provoca alguna que otra foto que esta dando vueltas por ahi. Es verdaderamente impactante observar una foto donde un policia tiene a mano su arma de reglamento, afortunadamente no paso a mayores, pero es imperdonable. Un arma no es un metodo de contencion, por el amor de Dios, que hubiera pasado si se hubiese descargado un disparo? Cuando aquellos que estan dispuestos a proteger y servir se convierten en un cuerpo de agresion, no se queje mi amigo si la conducta civil se vuelca en caos.

Cosa que me deja preguntando, donde carajo esta Fortuño en todo esto? Aparentemente el Sr. Rivera-Shatz es el gobernador de este triste 100x35 que alguna vez se conocio como La Isla del Encanto. El mundo esta apunto de acabarse, porque voy a hacer un endoso extraño. Fortuño, es hora de bregar como Obama, si en realidad va a ser "your way or the highway" es tiempo de encarar a tus constituyentes y poner las cartas sobre la mesa. Es obvio, cariño, que no vas a ser re-electo, coño, no lo jodas para los demas. Toma las riendas de tu gobierno y haz algo. Demonstraciones como la de ayer merecen atencion. Louis D. Brandeis, un tipo mas interesante e inteligente que tu y que yo lo dijo ya una vez " Si quieres respeto por la ley, haz la ley respetable"

Adios desde Florida donde ys es suficiente con el bendito derrame de petroleo que llego hasta Sarasota!!!!

Twi-fy... choose your monster

Eclipse is about to be released and I have renewed my Twilight feud, as always. The other day I was having this discussion with a guy at my job, hardcore zombie fan, you know and he had the face to tell me that vampires were nothing but cry-baby bitches. Point being that both vampires and werewolves (specially vampires, since Anne Rice penned Interview) have been lending themselves to this ideals of stoic romanticism that lead to Twilight, etc, etc, etc.



I told him that paper will carry any crap people write on it and he told me that certain monsters has a street cred that could just not be " Twi-fied", whatever that means.







I told him that the tween demographic was so frigging unreasonable that they could buy anything, as long as it followed Stephanie Meyers, rule of thumb: that monsters are not really monsters, but supernatural people with acceptance issues. That all you need to do in order to Twi-fy anything is use certain code words and deprive your monster of one basic characteristic, vampires no longer lust for blood, werewolves no longer thrive on violence and zombies simply wont eat brains. I told him that I could twi-fy a zombie in 200 words or less and here it is, for your displeasure. I didn't even bother giving them another name, Bella and Edward in TWIBIES, two hundred words or less.





The smell of earth lingered in his clothes as he clawed his way out of the grave. His once beautiful hands are now scarred and welted. The hunger pangs and fast, flashing memories are competing for supremacy. Unlike many affected by the virus, Edward has discovered a trace of reason still, and all his thoughts, however brief, are about her. He'll drag himself tonight, as he did so many times before when he was alive, to her window. He'll watch her sleep and fight the need to tear her apart. He will be strong, for her, because one day they'll be together. He tries to utter her name and the guttural sound that emanates from him is both surprising and saddening...





Bella woke up to the smell of mud and formaldehyde, running towards her half opened window. The wind battered the old frames and through the night, she'd hear a sound that was almost a whisper. The rising sun was cruel, playing it's tricks. He stood there, so close, so dream-like. She couldn't know he was nothing more than a lump of rotten flesh. The dead, standing in the sun, look like statues of china white and smell like hyacinth.





There ya go, zombies twi-fied in 200 words using the Meyer's formula, shitty, incomprehensible blabber and something nice to take your mind off the unpleasant sight of the living dead, you gotta love the smell of zombie in the morning!!! Pay up Mike!!!

On Gods and Nostalgia, or why I dont buy into Titans...

It's deja vu all over again in Hollywood land and the remake du jour is Clash of the Titans. It is by no means an unwatchable film, in fact it's quite enjoyable if you are in for an action packed movie. However, if you are a big fan of the Hero's Journey and certain gods of the Greek pantheon, well... it is a grand action packed movie indeed.

Must start by saying I am not a purist. I mean, I loved the original as a child, but even then I found Bubo the owl the ridiculous and without purpose. When this movie was marked for reincarnation, I was flipping with joy. I honestly believed that digital, CGI magic could do justice to the world of myth I loved. I was wrong. This "Clash" is a whole different ball game and it only made me feel a bit of nostalgia for the 1981 version that gave me, if not great special effects, a hero with a heart, gods who shared our imperfections and, although campy at times, a step by step hero's journey.

Both movies are a free interpretation of the myth of Perseus and Andromeda, one so deeply engraved in tales of old that it's main characters were literally exalted into the stars. (Check your constellations, boys and girls, while the nights are still crisp and clear.)

The one thing that I liked about the gods in the original 1981 is that all characters were played straight, as they were designed by the ancients. On this version, maybe in order to achieve a measure of plot "originality" the writers decided to shift the weight of the events from the whim of a number of gods to an evil machination from Hades, of all deities.

As I said, not a purist film wise, but the decision to make Hades the bad guy in this one tore me apart. There is a reason why Hades was not in the first movie and it's simple. Of all gods in the Greek Pantheon, Hades didn't play games. Unlike his brothers, he hardly frolics around chasing skirts. He ruled over the dead, which was quite a handful and showed himself to be the most passive and compassionate of the Olympians. KNOW YOUR GODS, PEOPLE and spare me the discomfort of watching Ralph Fiennes delivering a wonderful performance completely out of place!!!!!! That is only the first of a few pet peeves that kept me going hmmmmmmpppffft... but I'll get to them later.

Three minutes into the film, anyone with the least amount of knowledge of Greek myth knows they writers dug a whole from which it will be difficult come out of. We get to meet Perseus (Sam Worthington fresh out of Avatar, I guess as he has an unexplainable buzz cut in a world in which all men sported long locks) anyhooo, boy Perseus has problems, anger management problems, and daddy issues that do not allow him to see beyond his rage. He is set on an impossible task: to kill the God of the Dead. Knowing it is a given fact that gods are eternal, well... duh.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a hopeless romantic, but romance is meant to be at the core of this myth. To quote the best of cliches, it is understandable that they didn't paint the new TITANS the least shade of pink because it is impossible to love another if you can't love yourself. And Perseus loathes himself, or at least the god part in him. It is impossible to go through a journey of self discovery if you insist on rejecting 50% of your findings, no room for growth. Perseus is a hero I don't care about because he whines and bitches way too much. He is good with the sword though, and that will deliver really cool actions scenes, scenes that would make me go wheeeeeeeeeeeeee if this were any other Greek guy, but he is supposed to be Perseus. Once the motive of the quest is fueled by revenge there is no room for wonder, or fun, or even love. There is peril, a couple of chuckles courtesy of quest companions and sexual tension between Perseus and... I wont tell you anything about the new addition, but it is not Andromeda and she might as well have a big neon sign that reads "Hi, I'm the new and improved Bubo the owl, I'll get in unnecessary trouble and bring info back and forth."

Well, our wound up hero meets the designated monsters:

Calibus, Giant Scorpions, Stygian Witches, Medusa, Calibus again, the Kraken and finally the dreaded mano a mano with Hades. I would go over each one of these encounters one by one, but I rather keep the two that really caught my eye, even as a child. There is not a single person that saw the original TITANS that didn't think Medusa was the coolest monster ever. I loved her, and I loved the witches as well. As a child it was just a fascination that emanated from sheer creepiness, but growing up, I learned to respect the girl power behind the Gorgon and the Grey Ones. You see, there nothing more fearsome than women who know too much or women who wont mind looking at men straight in the eye, and turn them to stone... no wonder these were monsters of old. My greatest disappointment were the witches. They were not women, in fact they seemed clones in process of Pan's Labyrinth's Paleman. Medusa was cool, but not really scary, in fact she looked- and vocalized- like a spoiled rich girl with a bad hair day. Perseus saw nothing, learned nothing, respected nothing as he advanced through the desert and met with DJINN!!!!!

Errrr... either someone was trying to exploit a tie-in with Prince of Persia or someone didn't tell the stupid writers that DJINN are part of Middle Eastern mythology. Now that I think about it, there might be a slight political message behind it, as the djinn hardly spoke but to say "together" as in "let us band together to defeat Hades who is the harbinger of the real terror war" ( I'm not even drinking, I swear) Congratulations Shiek, you are the token friendly Arab....

Must say, I did love the Kraken- who is a Nordic monster by the way, but let's forget about it and rally behind the fact that he is a sea creature son of Hades... I guess Poseidon was shooting blanks. Arrghhh, let me stop the hatin'... the Kraken IS magnificent in design and execution and perhaps the one monster that sorely needed and met the required improvements from the original.

All and all it is a great action film that showcases Worthington's ability to play someone who is half human half something else, yet again and will no doubt solidify his action hero status. But when in a movie, the most memorable and lively character is the God of the Dead, well something's gone amissing.

The quote: Is not really a quote, just that we all got a kick out of watching Liam Neeson, strike a GQ pose and say " Release the Kraken." I've tried it several times running through different accents and nothing yet beats the puertorrican " Meeeeeeeeeeera aqui noy mas que hablal, sueltate al Kraken"

Goodnight boys and girls

Good Friday

Today is one of the most important days in Christendom, second only to Easter Sunday. As I do my daily web round, I'm bombarded by all kinds of religious sentiment, much of it asking to stop and mediate in the matter of Christ's death. After reading five of these writings or so, I came to the conclusion that the writers were confusing the word meditation with mourning.

All of these lectures were aimed to make me feel guilty of sorts, thus proving to be completely ineffective. A true Christian should not be saddened by this day, let alone go back to the never ending "mea culpa" for 24 hours.

See, this is the heart of the matter. There is a man, who is also God. I'm talking in present tense because the basic tenant of my faith is that this man, called Yeshua, came about some 2000 years ago and gave his life for me, and rose from the grave. Upon doing so, he gave everyone who cares for it, the most intense taste of freedom ever given to mankind: the complete assurance of eternal life.

Eternal life will happen sometime, somewhere, in the mean time, this rich, crimson liquid gift of His has a strange side effect. Jesus made us passengers, strangers in a strange land, until we are called home. Some people see this as a challenge and they live their lives grim and in the sour side of Christianity, asking for deliverance of this world and it's absurdities. I am more of a Travel Channel kind of girl. I carry my passport, yes I do, but I will travel.

Stop meditating in sorrow and go out there. We were never meant to grief, not for ever. There's a lot of laugh and laughter in the Gospel, most of all, loads of forgiveness. Go out and explore, meet people you think challenging and try to fit them into God's Plan (after all you didn't design it and in His infinite wisdom He included EVERYONE!!!!), throw in a random act of kindness, enjoy the beauty this place called Earth has to offer live life simple as it was meant to be lived: loving one and other.

To Kendra on her Birthday

If memory serves me right, it was a Wednesday, trapped between the joy of Palm Sunday and the sorrow of Good Friday. I traveled one hour and a half to see you come into this world, and got there in the nick of time. (Well thank your mother as always, with her rushes, no one thought a first timer would deliver so quickly!!!) Anyhoo, I got to the hospital wing as they brought you out. I must say, and I'm not lying, that you were the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. Those brown eyes of yours were open wide, wanting it all, welcoming the world as much as it welcomed you.

You are the only person I ever wrote a poem for. You are made after my own heart and I've certainly got a kick of getting you to recite Poe and Blake at 3 years old. While most people were doing "Twinkle Twinkle," you kept going "Tyger, Tyger"... the point is, I am grateful to God and your mother for whatever hand I've had in your life. I told you once, since I don't have any of my own, TAG KIDDO, YOU ARE IT!!!!

So, to Cookie, the Great Ken Ken, our own Private Rockstar and the Little Monster we all know and love, Happy B-Day. You are officially a teen!!!!

Keep it up, keep working for those dreams, love always and many many blessings,

Lynnette

Something funny happened on my way through Bruce B. Downs

The following, as most of my ramblings is based on a true story, the embellishments are all mine as well, although it is not intended to count as short fiction.

I was going back home after a long day at work. Though I must not make boast of my little vices, I was all over the place, with phone and radio and thoughts for the weekend while trying to keep alert for that space of consciousness that will spare me half a second to react to road peril.

Somewhere between making an overnight deposit and assuring myself via Flixter that Clash of the Titans was not set for this week's release, something made me wind down and slow my steady 65 mph pace.

Thinking back, I shouldn't have been as distracted as I was by what I saw, after all, I live in a place called Land O' Lakes. There's bodies of water everywhere. Bodies of water and patches of wild.Even in a matter of 24 hours when it rains as hard and as long as it did yesterday, a simple puddle will be exalted, you know, cause puddles dream too.

Anyhoo, as I said there was a vast, extension of water that was not there yesterday, right in front of a construction site. There she stood, completely out of place, walking betwen the still waters and discarded timber and trash. She was no more than a girl , eighteen to early twenties perhaps. I cannot say wheter or not she was beautiful because I could not see her face. She was thin and tall and her hair was long and straight and dusty blond. Although I didnt get to see them, I bet her eyes were cold and blue.

I tried to concentrate on her, blocking both the traffic and Michael Hutchence, dead and gone for over ten years who was trying to tell me that we all have wings but some of us just don't know why, and as everything flashed before me: people and song and patch of wild and long haired girl holding to her long sleeve black sweater as to dear life, it crossed my mind that I was not seeing someone, but something.

As a matter of seconds, as she moved the sky went from weak blue to gray, to silver streaked purple, I held my breath with the unmistaken feeling that I was in the presence of something that is bigger than I. It happens like that with me, and I know God forgives me when sometimes I become a little pagan and I sing a little song to the wind and the long, cold, starry nights.

The DJ mentioned not to forget to spring forward tonite, he whined a scripted grievance about loosing an hour of sleep and announced the next song. And I said, thanks, and I'll see you next year, in the meantime, your younger sibling will come, and take your place and bring light and life to us all...

Mad Hatters and other matters

It seems as of late I've been doing nothing but watch movies. Anyhooo... got around to see Alice in Wonderland in 3D. I understand why this movie is either a hit or miss and will divide critics and audiences alike. Haters will conjure their own failed expectations, as far as myself, I left the theater loving a tale that I didn't care for as much as I should have when I was a child.

First time I really, really read a decent bit of Alice in Wonderland I was in college, well in my 20's, trying to get a grip of Literary Nonsense in the 19th Century... I breezed through it as I did through Chomsky and his colorless green ideas, if you catch my drift. The funny thing is that back then, as a twenty something i was able to make connections that I just couldn't figure out as a child, and I came to the realization (back then I thought it was my great stroke of genius) that the original story with it's excessive meanings, formal discourses and hyperboles was not meant to be a children's story. Alas, I was not alone, apparently Tim Burton thought the same...

I don't know if it is because I just had a birthday, but lately I have been thinking about my own childhood and how adulthood and experience distorts memories or creates fears that were not there before. Sometimes things are sacrificed in the altar of maturity, things no one should ever part with: imagination, true bravery, fearlessness and simple faith.

Alice has grown, and as expected, she had dismissed it all as a dream, until one day she falls through a hole again and visits a world she thought forgotten. It is there she learns that she is not the only girl to ever fall through, yet the only one crazy enough to make sense out of madness.

I loved the introductory arc, as she faces friends and fiends from the past and tries to fit them into what is meant to be the frame of mind of a Victorian Era young lady. I loved the sense of self discovery and fear of not fitting in what she though was the world she belong to while slipping deeper and deeper into places she initially reacted against.

The following will make no sense....

For a child who once was fearless, or perhaps in the verge of madness (watch out for the spinster aunt as Burton indicates in his adaptation that Alice could have some genetic disposition to buy real state in Wonderland) the place she visited as a child was full of magic and adventure. As an adult, it is a nightmare from where she constantly asks to wake up until she notices it's time to nut up or shut up... (yes I liked Zombieland as well).

For those who wonder where did the fun go... it is meant to be this way. After all is it a process of discovery and those are never fun filled. After years of automated waking up, heating the tea, going out to make some money at a corporate job, going back home and catching movies in the weekends, Alice finds a caterpillar that tells her "you are not Alice." Of course the woman will insist saying she is, but deep inside she knows she is but a subject with a high table of expectations and a very well traced path before her, and that was one rabbit hole she should have never fallen through. Sorry my dear, but when your boss gives you an order, you just paint the roses red without hesitation, if you know what I mean.

It takes her a lot of pain and agony to break from the design and believe in herself, unfortunately, we are not given the chance to see what Alice will do with her second chance as we are offered but a glimpse of her real world plans. Second chances, after all, like the blue caterpillar said, might come in disguised as painful, scary matamorphoses, but they might as well lead you to another life, and it's a chance worth taking. Would it be much to wish for a sequel? For Alice to return perhaps in her 40's... I believe Ebert proposed it and I an rallying behind him :)

There were just a couple of things that I hated... after all the fireworks and stunts AVATAR had to offer the 3D in Alice was bland in comparison. It is the type of 3D effect that offers depth instead of jumping out of the screen, and it is understandable as Burton relied a lot on the eyes of certain characters, like the Hatter or Chesire Cat.

Stop>>>>> I just remembered. Let's sing an Ode to Johnny Depp, who can be anyone and do anything and not repeat himself. His weirdly dilated pupils indicative of massive brain damage and impressive carrot top could have reduced any other actor to a caricature, but he pulled it through!!!!... Okay, I'll keep the hating now, it's but a little bit, though...

Crispin Glover!!!!! The man's a freak by himself, let him be!!!! I hated that they animated his body with a CGI technique that made him look paper thin (like the card he is meant to represent) but damn, it took so much away, completely distracting and unnecessary.

All in all it was a better experience than anything I've seen this year, including Frigging Avatar, that will probably sweep the Oscars anyway... Sheez is cold in here, gotta go now.

The Quote:

The hatter: Have I gone mad?

Alice: I'm afraid you are completely bonkers, but let me tell you a secret, all the best people are...

The Wolfman 15 bullets or less

My Spanish attempts at writing 'bout movies failed. Maybe is just that I don't feel like writing in Spanish about this one, on fear of disgorging a never ending ramble.

I really, really wanted to love this movie. The fact that I just plain liked it instead of hating it completely furthers more the sense of disappointment.
It's a full moon out on Hollywoodland, gather round your rifles and load them up in silver boys and girls....

The following disclosure ensues. I hate werewolves as much as I love vampires. I guess it all started with THE HOWLING, back in 1982, wrong, movie, wrong time to watch it; and the frail psyche of a nine year old girl was torn forever. Perhaps is because, psychologically, I like my monsters subtle. I rather plot my sweet revenge with words that cut deep than rip your heart to shreds literally. However, it is not the gore that drove me away from the film. The gore is in fact, the expected amount out of a flick about a guy that turn into a beast every 28 days. I was bothered by other type of furry, horrid creatures: plot bunnies.

I had all needed to love this movie: a glorious Gothic setting, a haunting score, Sir Anthony Hopkins and Benicio del Toro... yummy. What went wrong, you might wonder:

• The elements of the original are all there, they even have props straight out of the Universal lot (hellooooooooo cool silver tipped Wolf cane) they have the elements of what is perhaps the best put together mythos in Hollywood history, the wolfsbane, the full moon, the silver, the gypsy curse, the mark of the beast AND THEY DO NOTHING WITH IT. Who ever penned this movie, gave honor to the fanboys and fangirls of Universal Horror by not going into details all of them know, however, they are pandering to an audience whose only affection for the werewolf lore is sporting "Team Jacob T-shirts." If you are going to give me the real Gothic sense of a tortured soul, put some background to it. Do not assume I understand, make me!!!
• One other thing, Benicio del Toro is a juggernaut of an actor. Sir Anthony Hopkins is a force to be reckoned with as well, it is not Emily Blunt's fault at all, that they just chew her up, - all puns intended- she just disappears between the two. I never bought it, the angle on Gwen, and there is no point of a love interest if it's not going to be pivotal. They point to a certain rivalry between father and son that sparks out of this character, and yet I am not convinced enough she was worth it. It all felt too rushed and kind of confusing.
• I loved the score, although I could swear I hear a bit of Bram Stoker's Dracula in there.
• Hugo Weaving was nothing but a plot device and badly placed of all things. I just hated the way things turned out for his character.
• NOT ENOUGH GYPSIES!!!!!!!! I've had my say

I loved the construction of Talbot's character in general, that ability of Del Toro to emote, even through layers of make up. I loved the old school feeling of it, you know, the prosthetics instead of the over the top CGI. I loved they used that haunting rhyme that sounds ancient although it never existed prior to Curt Siodmak "Even a man who is pure at heart and says his prayers by night may become a wolf when the wolf bane blooms and the Autumn moon is bright." That little lines says more about human nature than anything else.

Better than I expected, not as much as I would like it to be. I'll watch it once more out on DVD, and that is all I can promise.

The Little Theology Corner Presents: Of Saints and Charlatans

God loves me and I love Him. Some people just don't get the fact that that statement is bigger than anything you might find weird about me- i.e. God loves me and I love Him even if I've read a vampire book too many or if I freely and creatively use the F word in ways and forms civilized people were never meant to.

But I am not talking about my work in progress. This is a rant derivative of observation of human conduct in general as it affects the perception of a faith I hold dear.

See, there are people that actually believe they carry God in their pocket, that Jesus just put up a show and that the Holy Spirit can be commanded to go on 3,2,1... as is it where some carefully planned 4th of July Firework extravaganza. For those people I couldn't care less, against those people I will rant to the death, I will hunt them down and expose them for what they are because they deserve what is coming to them. In other words, excuse my French, because this is gonna get ugly.

These piss me off dudes not only follow their own weird understanding of the Bible, but use it with the purpose of manipulating and extracting money out of the faith of the weak minded. These bastards live by the good old motto "Misery loves Company" and they sell themselves as men of God as the Skin Oil Salesmen would sell themselves as men of medicine in the once Wild West. They know they are preaching lies and they don't care, it is a game to them. The people who are listening though, believe and in their ignorance they let themselves be dragged by these charlatans into following emotion. " Yessssssssssss, brothers and sisters, come to the 8:00 PM sermon to Power of God Shake you like a Polaroid Picture!!!!! Bring your wallets."

For every poor, miserable soul that converts in these Carnivals of Faith, there are at lest 10 that will abandon church when these charlatan preachers are exposed for what they are: FUCKING LIARS WITH NO CONCEPT OF SCRIPTURE WHATSOEVER.

At this point, it is pretty obvious that I am mad.

Sometimes I think of Jesus in his aspect of Man. I see a guy traveling on foot through one of the most inhospitable terrain on Earth, bringing forth a message. He knows that He has a limited time: 3 years to reach out to the world. It will just not happen, not by itself. So he leaves his disciples saying " You will do greater things than I" (John 14: 1-12) Guess what you morons, let me tell you a few of those greater things that you can do:

• You can spend more time reaching to those in need of the Word of God



• You can, with a random act of kindness, preach more than words can say, you know, there is something about showing God's love in a practical way that appeal to the masses.

Go forth and preach it, to the ends of the world with kindness in your heart and truth in your speech.

Under no circumstance Jesus said "You will do greater MIRACLES than I did." or "go about, boys and girls, boast about turning water into wine and make money off it while you are at it."

This post is dedicated to so called Evangelist Dionny Baez, the preacher of the "new Generation" when God's word is not enough. The man of Signs without Logos. I think about this bastard and how he laughs his way to the bank turning bottled water into wine and parading Bibles glued with " Divine Glitter" and it makes me cringe. If I am pissed, I cannot even imagine how the Lord must feel. While hundreds of idiots follow this guy blindly wherever he goes like Deadheads on an eternal Summer Tour, there are people who are risking life and limb by preaching a simple message of faith in countries where it can cost their lives to do so. As I type this, there are churches around this country, of all walks of Christendom that are receiving the bodies of their dead missionaries, who lived through thick and thin and eventually died along with the people of Haiti.

Don't take this the wrong way. I honestly believe that there is a supernatural element at work within the Church (Mark 16:17-20), heck, I've seen things that look like ripped out of the pages of John Constantine's journal, or Neil Gaiman's Silver City. Scary, beautiful, edifying stuff. The key to it all is that the experience is just part of a process of internalization of the word of God. If after the sermon the only thing you remember is that the preacher turned the water into wine or showed you a glittering page of the bible, there is something wrong, wrong, wrooooooooong with the message and the messenger. If you are in for tricks Criss Angel is the man for you, his illusions will kick Dionny's parlor tricks into Kingdom come, it will blow your mind away.

Everybody knows it, come one repeat after me John 1:1 "In the beginning there was the WORD and the WORD was with God and the WORD WAS GOD." It is not about the emotion of the delivery, but about the content of the message. This guy is playing with ignorant fools and so called seasoned church goers alike because they have lost their way, because this world has become less inclined to faith and more inclined to acts. Prove it, Prove it Lord, they say. I have a word for you. GOD is God and HE owes shit to no one. He doesn't have to prove Himself to Atheists, he doesn't have to prove Himself to church goers. To demand of God a parlor trick each time His name is called upon is to cheapen Him an equate him to your trained poodle who will dance for a treat, or your adoration, in this case.

I guess what I am trying to say, is that I am waiting for the day this charlatan is put to shame, in the mean time, I'm on a Crusade sign up and let's keep this imbecile from further diminishing the Word.

A true story...

Tossing and turning... somewhere something hurts, but it is a dull pain, so I ignore it. I have places to go, things to do, but before I must meet someone at this bar.

At first I don't seem to recall who is it that I am supposed to talk to, but I have the feeling I'll know as soon as I see her, and there she is.

It's been a while and although I stay the same she had changed, a lot, but then it is her nature. Her frame is much like mine, wide, thick boned, but somehow she managed to make it look like she's at least 50 pounds lighter. I roll my eyes and fake a deep sigh... yeah I know. I gotta find out how to loose pounds of my own, but is so easy for her, I'm not even going to bring it up.

Her getup is black on black as expected, the only traces of color come from a shirt with digital clocks fading into a silver landscape. A Dali motif would have sufficed, but she had to make sure it is drained of personality, spark or life.

I smile, a mechanical customer service smile. She dismisses my gesture while finishing a cigarette just to start another. Her hair is blond with a hint of platinum highlights. It looks carefully disheveled. I've been planning to lighten a couple of tones for at least a month now, but something tells me she knows about it and beat me to it. It will never look as good in me, not after she's done it. A perfectly manicured hand with long silver tipped nails hands me a glass. She's been drinking Bushmills. I decline.

"What's up?" - she says, with perfect British accent. And it crosses my mind how come she sounds like this? Perhaps is because it is plain bad ass, or because of recent exposition to one Guy Ritchie film too many.

"You tell me" - I replied, in Spanish and I do so quickly and with the confidence she will understand , she always does, no matter what or how I say it.

" Today's conversation is sponsored by the word mediocrity." She stretches, as to compose herself and I can see an intricate tattoo that was not there before. A Celtic knot. I feel like I have to go someplace, but right now I don't remember exactly where is it I was meant to go.

" Don't get distracted now lassie" she tells me and I am positive she is using the word with the intention to mean bitch instead of as a term of endearment. "You are getting soft, have been standing in the same place for too long. Comfortable in your skin, that's what you say. I say you need to move on or drown."

I hated her for a second, I swear, but I had to let go. I even smiled when I noticed she was wearing an ID sticker with big bold red letters that read HELLO my name is LITTLE MS. JUNG. To fight her is to give myself a headache good enough to carry into my waking moment.

" Quite the sense of humor there you bastard" - I said dryly.

"Right back at ya" was the last thing I heard.

I woke up with a sense of whiskey and cigarettes, annoyed at my shadow and pissed at myself.

PROCRASTINATORS>>> UNITE/ EL MUVI BLOG

Hmmm... it's been a while since I posted anything. As always life gets in the way of all the trivial stuff that should be filling these cyber pages. There ya go, reason #123 on why I will never be a successful writer. Nevertheless I keep typing away for peace of mind's sake and out of sheer boredom... Sometimes, however, people just challenge me to do something worth my while. Today the honor becomes the divine Ms. Michelle, my tireless movie companion and partner in passion for fashion crimes.

Short, sweet and simple, Michelle dared me to try out the vernacular for a while. She challenged me to be constant and true with it. Hell, the girl even gave me a subject. There are several things that I love which I never get tired of: writing,-although I am a pussy of a writer, prone to chronic procrastination- and movies. Michelle asked me to do my movie reviews in Spanish for a while, just for kicks, just to get reacquainted with the language of my birth. You know, to stop using my long list of Anglicisms, like "rulear" and "refusar" etc., etc., etc. No, I'm not a slob "comemierda" that has forgotten the Spanish language, it is just that I am darn lazy about it...

My first try will be DAYBREAKERS, which I would usually welcome with open arms, however I have this things about blood suckers and Spanish, they just don't translate well. There's something about the verb "chupar" that just doesn't cut it, but I'll do it nevertheless, for the next six months all my reviews will be in Spanish... vamos pa' alla en el "muvi blog"