Hours of Entertainment!

"No Grandpa! Don't throw that away! It's an antique! And even if it isn't it's probably recyclable!"

Impressive— how long baking cocoa can last in a metal container. More impressive is all the things you can do with the empty tin:

1. It makes for an excellent percussion instrument.

2. You can store stuff in it.

3. It smells DELICIOUS!

4. It rolls! (though somewhat lopsidedly)

(and 1001 more!)

Why, oh why, Mr. Hershey, did you switch to plastic?

Love is...

I've been watching my elder cousin sitting beside his girlfriend. He's perusing the laptop. She's thumbing through a book. No words are exchanged. Hardly even a touch, except for side-to-side, because of their close proximity.

This is foreign to me. I can stay up chatting until the early hours, but I cannot understand this. Is this a lack of communication? Or is there this a silent understanding and connection, that supersedes speech. 

"When Kino had finished, Juana came back to the fire and ate her breakfast. They had spoken once, but there is not need for speech if it is only a habit anyway. Kino sighed with satisfaction—and that was conversation." --John Steinbeck, The Pearl  (Chapter 1)

I've Been Dreaming of a True Love's Kiss...

It was an accident, I swear! I sat down in the theatre with my other twenty family members sprawled across the row and then some, and asked what we were watching. "Enchanted! Disney's new amazing classic-ish hit!" 

So I watched the film. And I watched the people around me (because sometimes that's more fun, you know). And, surprise of all surprises, I enjoyed it! Disney pulled off a meaningful, moderately musical, rather laughable complete parody of itself. Yes, in truth, it was very good, especially with the whole family watching alongside. 

It's classic: the perfect fairy-tale princess-to-be in the perfect fairy-tale world finds herself by some twist of fate in modern-day New York City.

I never took the time to think about how ridiculous one of the Disney princesses would look in the real world. The epitome of naiveté, completely out of it, the most clueless and sweet thing, far too bubbly for her own good. But what's really interesting is the contrast between her ideals of true love and the reality in the US. When she hears about a couple getting a divorce, she just breaks down and weeps hysterically (in both senses of the word). She is aghast at the fact that people go on dates before they get married. It really got me thinking about our culture.

So the lass and beau wander through central park, the man describing his love life, and the lady suggests that he sings to his ladyfriend (being another person), then demonstrates said technique. Suddenly a group of buskers—Caribbean-style percussionists and a singer—join in with her. Then a street guitarist! Then a mariachi band! And eventually, what started as a solo evolves into an orchestra of hundreds, all singing the same song, dancing through central park as one ludicrous flesh!

Ah, if only life were a musical, and we could all join together in massive song and dance at any given moment!

Tangerines

Ahh... California.

What joy to step outside and pick whatever assortment of citrus—
navels, lemons, tangerines, grapefruit, etc.—and eat them on the spot.
I must have eaten at least two dozen already. Indeed, there is such an
abundance that one could host a group citrus fight right there in the
backyard, with no thoughts of wastefulness on the conscience. And each
juicy fruit an individual, teeming with sunshine and delight, just
waiting for a mouthful of teeth to gouge it's bitter skin.

I walk into the kitchen and what do I see? A small box full of very
store-bought tangerines. With a tangerine tree not ten yards and a
wall from where I am standing!

I guess it just goes to show that we learn to be indifferent to what
we are familiar with.

Oh, the people you meet!

So I meet the man in the airport bathroom with a gig bag on his back. He's sporting Havianas (Brasilian Flip-Flops) and is bummed about forgetting to detune his guitar (not good for flying/ the pressure snaps the strings). We joke about the beauty and value of foreign guitars and women. He's chill. Perhaps 22 with a light Damien Rice beard. He invites me into the bar for a chat over a beer, but I politely decline. I sort of regret not accepting, not so much for the beer, but for the chat. I may be a minor, and my flight was leaving in half an hour, and my family was waiting for me to get back from the bathroom, but it's really quite an experience to meet new people.

Speaking of which, on the flight I sat next to a pair of elderly-ish women (I'd guess 60-80), who may have been sisters or mother & daughter. They were fun little ladies, perusing People magazine and making fun of all the teen celebrities. The elder sported a spirally santa hat which she claimed was the exact same one that Jim Carrey wore in How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and lamented the fact that no one else on the plane wore one. "No Christmas spirit nowadays!" to which the other replied, "Oh, you're just full of bullshit." All with very good nature, of course. By the end of the flight we were very loudly singing Christmas carols together (one passenger asked if we would take requests!).

Every person has such beauty in them! May we all find it, no matter how deeply we must look.

And yet, I remember none of their names....

Hey, I wonder if this thing will work!

You should see a wizard of stupendous power, summoning all evil from the world to be annihilated.

The best memories ever...