The Things They Carried

An array of neccessities I always "hump" with me:

• 5 Spearmint Gum
• Walllet (money, ID, etc) 
• Pads
• Perfume (pictured is Moonlight Path by Bath and Bodyworks) 
• Chapstick 
• Eyedrops
• Also my Iphone which I used to take the picture above

One of my neccesities is chaptick. I can never remember using chapstick when I lived as a little kid here in Panama, but when I moved to Edmonton, chapstick became my lips' bestfriend during that harsh, dry winter. My lips would crack and I was tempted to bite the dead skin, it was just HORRIBLE! The only thing that made it better was of course chapstick! The thing is that chapstick is not only a neccessity in dry weather anymore; Even in Panama's humid climate, I have to apply it to keep my lips from burning. It it probably a habit that I will never grow out of... actually, my lips are burning as a write this blog entry. BTW... I find the best chapstick is Nivea; its so buttery and moisturizing!

The second item I cannot live without also has to do with change in climate. Since I moved back to Panama about a year ago I started suffering again from dryness, but this time in my eyes. I have speculated that it is the air conditioning that creates the burning sensation, which may also very well be irritating not only my eyes but also my lips. Anyways... I NEED to always have eyedrops with me. I put them on usually in the morning and before going to sleep, but there is also some times when I get these awful spazms in my eyes and the only thing that will make it better is the eyes drops. Currently I use NicoTears, they're nothing special, just artificial tears. But, they're the only ones that seem to do the trick.

The third item I always carry with me isn't in my purse but it is actually a piece of jewelry. This piece is like a safety blanket to me, it evolves over time as well. Before July, it was actually a bracelet of a guardian angel that my aunt had given to me when I was about four or five years old. Unfortunetly, it broke. I managed to save the beads and the charm and plan to put it in a new necklace. But for now, I wear a San Don Bosco pin. A few weeks ago my mother and I went to San Don Bosco's cathedral here in Panama and I reminded her about how my guardian angel had broken and asked her I could get something to look over me. My whole family has great faith in this saint; she bought me the pin and ever since I wear it on my shirt everyday. I have no doubt that my guardian angels and San Don Bosco look over me even if I forget  to wear my holy pieces of jewelry, but I like to keep them close anyways.

The Vietnam War

I am very embarrassed to say that I knew barely anything about the Vietnam War. The little I knew about this horrible era I owed to my brother; I watched him play Call of Duty: Black Ops during the summer of 2010. Before Literature class of October 22, 2012 the only two facts I was completely sure were correct were that the war was fought in Vietnam (though I didn't know were this country was located,) and that the US military was involved. I also speculated (WWW) that it was of great magnitude due to all the attention that this horrific event has recieved; here and there I also heard that it was during the presidency of John F. Kennedy. To be honest, seeing the "K" section in my chart makes me realize how ignorant and callow (WWW)  I really am.


What would I like to know? Lets see... Well first, who other than Vietnam and the United States were involved? What were the causes and effects? What was the outcome? Was its result in general good or just straight up tragedy? Basically, what was the Vietnam War?  Due to Ms. Colorado's lovely powerpoint presentation in class though I was provided with excellent information about the War. The one fact that I found completely disgusting was that this was a "living-room war;" please tell me if I am wrong, but I am just picturing a family watching savages blow each others' heads off. Ugh. I found it really interesting that soldiers were drafted and that many were poor and recieved a scholarship for fulfilling such duty. The most shockig statistic was that 304 000 victims were killed and 750 000 were disabled--Those were only the ones affected physically, but imagine those whose mental health suffered and experieced the loss of a loved one.

I find this topic to be very fascinating, it still left me wondering about some factors. Was there a specific person trying to spread communism? If so, who stopped it and who were the heroes of Vietnam? How did the US recover from such loss and why did it give up so instantly? I guess some of my unanswered questions will be responded to in The Things They Carried , but for the most part it is up to me to further research the Vietnam War.

Free Verse Poem: "Life" by Charlotte Bronte

LIFE, believe, is not a dream
So dark as sages say;
Oft a little morning rain
Foretells a pleasant day.
Sometimes there are clouds of gloom,
But these are transient all;
If the shower will make the roses bloom,
O why lament its fall ?

Rapidly, merrily,
Life's sunny hours flit by,
Gratefully, cheerily,
Enjoy them as they fly !

What though Death at times steps in
And calls our Best away ?
What though sorrow seems to win,
O'er hope, a heavy sway ?
Yet hope again elastic springs,
Unconquered, though she fell;
Still buoyant are her golden wings,
Still strong to bear us well.
Manfully, fearlessly,
The day of trial bear,
For gloriously, victoriously,
Can courage quell despair ! 

Nursery Pink - Benjamin Moore - 2076-70

The nursery pink lay with sheen on her lips

matching the flush on the apples of her cheeks.

Her eyes were contoured

with smoky shades of cloudy carbons, mauves.

Her golden, luscious locks

twirled into loose ringlets

framing her high cheekbones,

complementing her structured nose.

With every step she took

rhythmic click-clacks pervaded the runway.

She blew kisses,

her mouth a flirtatious pout.

Long, voluminous lashes

decorated her eyes like curtains.

Protecting her vision from the spotlight

Lighting her coquette costume.

As she posed for the audience

she lay her hand across her chest.

Her fingers trembled

from the frigid impact.

When she arrived home she hurried

to the bathroom,

used about 20 wet-wipes

to clean about 20 pounds off her face.

The skin at the base of her lashes ached

when she ripped the fake extensions.

She swept the nursery pink off her lips,

though her mouth still remained stained.

The bronzer on the sides of her face faded,

her high cheekbones were no more.

Her nose drooped slightly to the left,

her skin revealed itself to be a blanket

of scars.

As she showered

she placed her manicured hands

upon her chest.

Her fingers trembled

from the frigid impact.

She witnessed the developing of icicles

on her fingers.

Tears streamed down her eyes

falling upon her chest.

The second the water droplets hit

her chest,

they transformed to ice.

She examined the reflection in the mirror,

comparing with the reflection

six hours ago. 

But still her chest

remained frigid.

No amount of makeup

can mask an ugly heart. 

Click here for more color collective poems. 

I Am From...

I am from snow shovels,  

from Kirkland Road Salt and Columbia Coats.

I am from the chestnut and Disney inspired bonus room.

(Spacious, cozy,

it´s aura felt homely.)

I am from the White Spruce,

the Lodgepole Pine

whose rootstock was shelter

to the beloved deer.

I am from extreme Christmas decorating and chubby cheeks,

From Melissa and Pancho and Panchito.

I am from the projecting, thunderous voices

and the spoiling of Duqui.

I am from Talk louder! and Speak less!

I am from guardian angels

who look over my shoulder

and St. Thomas More Parish.  

I am from Panama and Canada,

lasagna and chicken pot pie.

From my mother´s fear of winter driving

due to black ice,

the deck in the backyard daddy and my big brother built.

In the corner of my closet is a plastic box,

with diaries of original songs

written in Melrose Crescent.

In #1814 family portraits lie

in the interior of the walls,

I am from those images—

Lying in the core of my heart

for eternity.

  

Momentous Dreamin'

Description:
Dreams are born and kept within one´s heart. They are visions that inspire every one of our moves, they inspire even a poet´s deepest stanzas and lines.


Synopsis:
Illustrations impacted by the magic of fantasizing.


Dreams by Langston Hughes 

Song Of A Dream by Sarojini Naidu 

Beautiful Dream by Clara Marcelle Farrar Greene

The Slave´s Dream by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe 

A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe

Dream Variations by Langston Hughes

The Sandman by Margaret Thomson Janvier

Zinnerman, Justice Shall Be Made

For generations, the all-American citizen has been portrayed as a white man with Christian values, being ultra conservative. Residents of Arab, Latino and Black cultures are expected to be criminals; nevertheless, whites are seen as the ultimate peacekeepers. In the States it is an era where an African-American is leading the country—An era where supposedly all racism is forgotten. But yet, violence as serious as murder has occurred due to manifest destiny of those who believe that a true American is only to be Caucasian.

On March 26 in Sanford, Florida, seventeen-year-old Trayvon Martin was returning from his convenient store with a bag of Skittles and a bottle of iced tea. Neighborhood watchman George Zimmerman, shot the teen in what he says was self-defense. But really it was just racial thinking that led the madman to believe that a black boy with a hoodie is a potential threat to safety. Zimmerman has previously been in trouble for violent acts: He was arrested for shoving a policeman when his friend was arrested for serving alcohol to underage drinkers. Also, his unidentified ex-fiancé reportedly had a violent relationship with him; consequently, filing protective injunctions against one another. Although, there is no evidence of the crime and therefor Zimmerman has not been punished for the murder of Martin.

Zimmerman must pay for his actions, killing another human being is worth being thrown into jail for life—It doesn´t matter the color of the victim´s skin, but justice should be made in their remembrance. Even though there isn´t any evidence to proof the madman is guilty, there isn´t any proof he is innocent either. But honestly, a man who has been involved with violence numerous times like he has is not trustworthy. People can be treated very unfairly due to others´ believes, for example, in To Kill A Mockingbird, Scout is insulted by her aunt just because she doesn´t have the same interests as other girls her age have. Most likely, Zimmerman is prejudiced about Blacks just like Scout´s aunt was about girls, he probably was sure that all of them were like the criminals he heard about in the news. So he judges every African-American as cruel, violent and guile: a criminal. Not having knowledge about a case leads one to think nonsense, to commit injustice just like Zimmerman did; One acts this way because the information one is acting upon is an unreliable lie. As a community it is our job to be aware and be educated about the different cultures and ethnicity of people, so we don´t become prejudice. Just the knowledge of one person can pervade through a whole nation and protect the innocent; therefore, injustice will not be committed due to rubbish judging.    

Zimmerman really is a coward, he felt the need to protect himself from a teenager because of a concept he doesn´t understand. Zimmerman does not understand that the Unites States is full of wonderful Blacks; however, he feels they are dangerous instead. Zimmerman really feared something that wasn´t true, he feared a crime that Martin would have never committed—He expected Martin, just because of the dark color of his skin and the hooded sweat shirt he had on, to threaten his safety. You see when people have this overall idea of a topic, it might not apply to everything involved with that topic, but yet their actions are all still based on the same idea and therefore are the same towards everything related to that subject. For example, referring back to To Kill A Mockingbird, the whole town believes Boo Radley is a dangerous beast that everyone needs to be aware of. But really, the man has resulted to suffering due to an abusive father—Yet Scout and Jem take precaution of Boo and taunt the man because they believe the town´s rumors. They fear this whole myth that they clearly do not understand, because it does not exist. Zimmerman feared what he believes African-Americans are, so he shot one in order to feel safe.   

Bottom line is that Zimmerman was influenced to commit this crime due to all the racism and prejudice he holds in his heart. To him, a white boy with blue eyes wearing a tucked in shirt and Hush Puppies would have been completely different: a harmless, well-behaved teenager. Even if Zimmerman didn´t murder Martin based on his racists beliefs, he still took someone else´s life—If he has the guts to end a kid´s life, he should have the courage to accept his fault and end the rest of his days behind the bars.