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Showing posts from January, 2012

Things I miss in a man

A warm hug A surprise A Smile A look A passionate kiss An unexpected call Several unexpected calls Making me laugh so hard because he jumps in bed at night time A day without worrying about the world outside A sign that he is interested in being with me A sight of him being delighted by my cooking or impressed by my sense of style A man bringing me roses Things I don't miss at all Coldness Lies Fights A man checking out other women A man not really getting me A man yelling at me A man trying to control me A man misleading me A man saying things he doesn't mean

Key West

My father's visit is coming to an end and yesterday I took him to the Keys and Key West. I got up at 5:15am and we got home at 11:14pm. I don't think I will ever drive to Key West and back on the same day again. The night before I had made gnocchis from scratch again (yes, I am addicted to potato pillows) and went to bed very late. Today I am at work at a different branch and I am fighting to be awake. There are very few people in the library. Tonight we have a small dinner party we have to go to in Coral Springs. But I digress. We had a great time in Key West. We visited the History Museum (the name escapes me now). We walked by the Hemingway House and we tried to visit the lighthouse but it was closed by the time we got there. We also went to the 90 Miles-From-Cuba landmark from which I took 4 pictures of my dad. He didn't smile in any of them. Ugh. I also bought a dress from Bali that I love. I could have bought at least four pairs of earrings I liked and another more ro

Just got home

After a few glasses of wine and a lot of fun. When people are nice, it's easier to be happy. And if they happen to have a sweet lab named Amber around, it's all good.

My Fourth Lesson With Luna

She explored the idea of making mistakes while dancing. Using that energy to make something beautiful out of it. She was insisting on more precision, on being more daring, louder on my dancing. Speaking a language that the guy who is dancing with me will understand and appreciate.

Tears

We were in bed and I was trying very hard to hide my tears. I was seeing my life in snapshots. You were asking me questions and trying to understand me. I was embarassed to be sad. All and all, you are a respectable man. But there's this awckwardness between you and me and I haven't been able to shake that feeling out of me. All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way. Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy.

When you have loved too much

Cuando se ha querido mucho Tango 1945 Música: Federico Leone Letra: Enrique Dizeo Cigarrillo y mate, mate y cigarrillo, y la noche oscura castigándome. Y mi pensamiento en tu pensamiento, así estoy las horas recordándote. Cigarrillo y mate, mate y cigarrillo, y una pena grande, por lo que sufrí y por lo que sufro, cuando me pregunto dónde están tus besos, que será de mí. No entiendo cómo puede estar viviendo, será porque te estoy viendo mucho más cerca que nunca, a pesar de que no estás. Si vieras cuánto sufre mi alma entera al no tener quien me quiera en la vida nadie más. Cigarrillo y mate, mate y cigarrillo, y un hombre angustiado, sin saber qué hacer. Si seguir luchando o seguir tus pasos, porque tengo ganas de volverte a ver.

Faith

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From Postsecret.

What have you looked like?

Your blue eyes, Nina.

The Three Sides Of The Coin

Person A ignores person B most of the time. Then one day, person A asks for a "favor". Person B is entitled to think among other possible options... Option 1: He needs me, he is kind of using me. (This would be a more negative interpretation). Option 2: Oh, he wants to do it so well that I am the only one who is capable of helping him. (More positive interpretation). Option 3: Person B doesn't analyze the event. (More neutral approach). Taking any of this makes you a negative, positive, or neutral person?

Bernini

The Language of Love and Passion.

Gnocchi

I bought a food mill last night and made the most delicious homemade gnocchi for dinner. They came out just perfect. From a family tradition of making homemade gnocchi and always being uncertain about how they would come out, I learned yesterday from doing research on the internet the right technique to make the perfect potato pillow. It all starts with the way you cook the potatoes. It worked so well that the gnocchi was not only easy to make, but a lot of fun. I could have made a better sauce to go with it, I was so excited about the gnocchi that I forgot I should make a thicker sauce. It wasn't bad, but it could have been much better. Anyway, the gnocchi tasted like potatoes, not flour and the texture was not too hard or too soft. I used two big baking potatoes, two egg yolks, salt, and one third of a cup of flour. In less than two hours, I had a batch of gnocchi to feed four-not-so-hungry people. No wine, though. Wine seems to be giving me migraines. But my dad and I had a good

Fly Me To The Moon

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By David Lee

Dinner with my father

I wanted to treat my dad to a nice dinner after he spent the week with my brother so I took him to Hollywood and asked him to pick a restaurant. He didn't feel like eating so we ended up just having coffee, empanadas, and dessert.We were silent for some time. When I was little I remember there was this Milan Kundera book that was very famous and had been made into a movie.The movie was popular as well. So, last night I had one of those Kundera moments. I saw this group of people get a table. They were all cool and different. Very white, some of them blond, and the guys reminded me of someone. Someone from the movie, someone from real life. They had strong bones and very nice eyes. They smoked these fancy dark cigarettes and had a nonchalant attitude. They were very Russian. And I was (hate to admit it) taken back to a place I don't want to be anymore. I was also curious about them. I saw one of the women holding her husband, who ordered wine and coffee. He only had eyes for her

Thinking about

Technique in dancing tango. How important is it? How crucial? How visible? How helpful?

Lorena Ermocida

Naranjo En Flor Interpreted by Lorena Ermocida and Osvaldo Zotto

Virginia Pandolfi

Sin Sabor interpreted by Virginia Pandolfi and Fabian Peralta

Virginia Pandolfi and Lorena Ermocida

They are the women that I have contacted to have tango privates with in Buenos Aires. Lorena hasn't e-mailed me back yet. I might also take classes with Georgina Vargas and Oscar Mandagaran. It is now or never. Lorena represents precision; Virginia musicality.

Evil Customer - She Takes The Cake

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Blame it on my carmex Believe it or not, I have had this customer for six-years who has hated me since the day she met me. A couple of weeks ago she came in to complain to upper management about me. Obviously. I clearly remember when she walked in on December 24th, in the early morning. I had been sick then. I had my Carmex on my left hand. She came to the desk. She was nasty to me. Next thing I know, the regional manager had been notified I apply makeup at the reference desk. I was applying Carmex. A clear lipbalm that costs $1.50 at the drugstore. She must hate me more than I have thought.

We had the three poisons

anger came from me you were all delusion we met in a bridge called craving

Embracing

Learning to embrace is one of the most challenging aspects of learning tango.

La Piel Que Habito

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The Skin I Live In By Pedro Almodovar

Tango Math

Tango and Life are very complicated sometimes.

State of Things

Customers come to me asking me to do them "favors". I had a migraine for three days. Edwin is still limping. I went to a milonga last night and danced not even one complete tanda. The class was nice, though. I am teaching a private Portuguese class tonight. It's my second one this week. Off tomorrow. Taking my third private with Luna Palacios. I need to go grocery shopping. Somehow real life is happening. I found a book called More Plato, Less Prozac. It advocates that philosophy can actually help people deal with their personal issues. I want to write about tango again and about this new person. Not that inspired. Not sure why. I have been craving a good dinner with a good glass of wine and some nice music. Good company wouldn't be a bad idea at all. I need to see if I can set my wireless tv up. I want to watch Shame. Working on Saturdays sucks. Only working on Sundays is worse. Infamia is my new favorite tango song. I watched a documentary on Ada Fal

Motherhood

My main problem is that I don't see beauty in being a mother. I see it as a burden.

From the book I am reading

"We should distinguish pleasure from happiness. Happiness is understood here to refer to a deep sense of fulfillment, accompanied by a sense of peace and a host of positive qualities such as altruism. Pleasure depends upon the place, the circumstances, and the object of its enjoyment. One can get pleasure at certain times and not at others. It is bound to change. Something that is pleasure at one point might soon give rise to indifference, then to displeasure and suffering. Pleasure exhausts itself in the enjoying, just like a candle that burns down and disappears." In: Destructive Emotions, p.85.

Comme Il Faut

I am adding two new pairs to my CIF collection.

2011 almost 2012

The light is coming through. I see big windows that face East. The sun is out. I listen to music as if I could reassure myself that this loneliness is peaceful. The movie showed me Paris: a multifaceted Paris. I see the black and white picture standing against the wall. More than ever I find within me a type of sadness that has always accompanied me.  Somehow to sing at the top of my lungs these sad songs from our past comforts me. It's not that I am unhappy. There's a brand new year ahead of us. We have hope. But there's this unsettling silence that whispers in my head. And I frown. Maybe life is just like Paris, the movie. The continuum slices of lives that are related. I drove by La Estancia Argentina last night. I remembered how we said hello to each other from afar. It was an uncomfortable hello. At the time we were two strangers. Today, we are lovers. I am exiling myself in the possibility of finding you. You never read my writing. You don't know the serious me.