tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77341808902472194862011-12-23T18:12:15.701-05:00An insider's tale of coming to America.Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.comBlogger1021100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-43627022771537759552011-11-27T20:57:00.002-05:002011-11-27T21:02:01.974-05:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-89424054018844737802011-06-23T17:10:00.002-04:002011-06-23T17:19:36.684-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-39433862352243620102011-04-22T17:54:00.001-04:002011-04-22T17:57:05.659-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-66823704140064125242011-04-14T10:23:00.005-04:002011-04-14T15:50:05.039-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-51743919803340243302011-04-13T10:29:00.000-04:002011-04-13T10:34:21.471-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-85685325035056589322011-04-06T15:57:00.001-04:002011-04-06T16:01:20.131-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-44498756247961126542011-04-05T14:19:00.002-04:002011-04-05T14:25:11.644-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-30168148171356721942011-03-30T11:44:00.005-04:002011-03-30T11:54:45.028-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-14931669961102773792011-03-25T14:30:00.001-04:002011-03-25T14:43:34.958-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-54946198001494894262011-03-22T12:26:00.003-04:002011-03-22T12:28:41.609-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-74385549327552960892011-03-15T16:04:00.002-04:002011-03-15T16:07:16.292-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-11737995000939910562011-03-14T10:18:00.001-04:002011-03-14T10:50:11.725-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-78546812953094774522010-12-30T23:35:00.004-05:002010-12-30T23:38:37.832-05:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-79956440329593307172010-11-01T23:55:00.003-04:002010-11-02T10:46:34.226-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-10684482943179753792010-06-22T10:31:00.002-04:002010-06-22T10:36:35.517-04:00

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Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-2905678424349057672010-05-21T15:42:00.001-04:002010-05-21T15:43:42.488-04:00

It never ceases to amaze me just how incredibly inappropriate Hispanic people are, sometimes I forget or simply don’t notice because I am so used to it, but there is nothing like having dinner with a bunch of Colombians, Venezuelans, Chileans and Mexicans for the combination to be too much for all our dirty tendencies. DH and I were enjoying a delicious night of BBQ and Karaoke, or maybe I should

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-57141407315702503402010-05-20T15:15:00.003-04:002010-05-20T15:23:03.832-04:00

I knew it would eventually make it here to Florida but I was silly enough to hope it would take longer or maybe wouldn’t make it here at all. Intolerance, ignorance and dislike though are like a pestilence and like any fetid disease it spreads faster than wildfire. I was watching Jeopardy! last night cheering on Vijay to make it for the final Tournament of Champions when during a commercial the

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-78857225432348518152010-04-29T12:32:00.002-04:002010-04-29T14:52:24.945-04:00

Ok, so I am exaggerating and being inflammatory and biased. That’s the beauty of blogs; I don’t have to curve my opinions because it is MY blog. (It’s my party and I cry if I want to). It’s a shame really what is happening in Arizona; I had it in my head to visit every state in this country since I can’t travel outside yet and I thought since the U.S. is so big, varied and beautiful there is

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-41176927437675198862010-04-13T15:13:00.006-04:002010-04-14T10:02:32.296-04:00

I was reading in Yahoo! News today about a man called Albert Snyder. Mr. Snyder lost his son Matthew Snyder when he died on a Humvee accident in Iraq almost four years ago. Matt was 20 years old. During his son's funeral the ever lovely Westboro Baptist Church showed up to protest against gays, and Jews and pretty much everybody else on God’s green earth with signs that read “God Hates America”

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-76736252868471062632010-04-07T11:33:00.002-04:002010-04-07T11:35:20.805-04:00

Dear Husband and I went to Saint Augustine from Wednesday until Easter Sunday to celebrate our one year anniversary; we made it there at midnight on Wednesday and passed out at the hotel soon after putting our clothes away and showering. The weather was perfect, a balmy 72 to 73 degrees with a chilly breeze and not a cloud in the sky; it was almost as if the city had made itself pretty just for

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-3169998027192245842010-03-26T10:12:00.002-04:002010-03-26T10:17:43.770-04:00

Since I was bitching that I was blocked, woe is me, what am I to do and all that bullshit, I decided to write about one of the most amazing men I have ever met and kill two birds with one stone, if he doesn’t inspire me, nothing will and that way I bring attention to my little circle of readers to ALS. I will be forever humbled by my former boss; he is currently suffering from ALS (Amyotrophic

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-37743342446208799372010-03-25T10:46:00.003-04:002010-03-25T10:59:57.182-04:00

That phrase always sounded too conceited to apply to me. I don’t consider myself a writer even though that’s how Dear Husband describes my profession, as if I made money of it or something. I cannot stop categorizing it, when he brings it up I usually answer to people’s questioning glances with a self conscious shrug or explain that I am a “frustrated writer” or a “wannabe writer” or “would like

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-5366579004198601242010-03-03T12:28:00.002-05:002010-03-03T12:33:11.845-05:00

Maybe Canada will want me. That’s all I could think about when the whole Canada vs. U.S.A hockey band wagon started. Suddenly everyone in Facebook was talking about kicking Canadian ass and most of them didn’t even know how to call the disk they hit with the sticks (I learned it’s called a puck). As a U.S.A “resident” (I use the term loosely since the U.S.A doesn’t really want me here and I am

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-60004832684149705312010-02-19T10:03:00.001-05:002010-02-19T10:05:41.013-05:00

So yesterday we woke up at five am to be able to be in Miami at 9. I don’t live four hours away from Miami but the traffic as soon as you hit the city is so damn slow that last time we went we sat in the highway for an hour and got to my lawyer’s office so late we had to wait until he had another opening and I almost peed my pants in the car stuck in traffic. We showed up to my lawyer’s office

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-28521629002134882772010-02-13T22:35:00.002-05:002010-02-13T22:37:50.055-05:00

I wish I had coined the phrase since it seems to describe my very existence. I am, it seems, trapped by a sucking, drowning, black-hole of responsibility. There are, I know, people who seem free of such a crippling emotion, because that is what responsibility is, an emotion. A feeling in the pit of your stomach, in the center of your heart that makes one do things we don’t want to do, but we do

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-12777056292952161702010-02-01T16:27:00.004-05:002010-02-01T17:53:05.958-05:00

Dear Husband developed, since we married, a severe case of ‘don’t-know-how’. He forgot how to cook, how to do laundry, how to put laundry away, etc. Even though at times (all the time) I find that insanely provoking and it makes me want to cause bodily harm, all it takes is a girl’s night out for me to be thankful. Thankful that DH is patient, supportive, sweet, communicative and willing to put

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-21266685697103710012010-01-27T10:21:00.009-05:002010-01-27T15:48:56.340-05:00

The unlucky residents of the community I live in have united against my husband and I. Retirement is indeed boring business and the bluehairs in my community haven’t been able to get used to the fact that the community can no longer keep their houses from foreclosure without renting. They lose not one opportunity to remind us, or Dear Husband since he is the one they talk to, that they made an

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-79748709680010173032010-01-21T10:19:00.001-05:002010-01-21T10:21:51.589-05:00

There are, I am sorry to say, plenty of things in life I wish I had no knowledge of. Things I wish I remained in the dark about. Things that I wish I could unlearn, things I wish I didn’t know. The list is eclectic and all encompassing from what goes in a “morcilla” sausage (pig’s blood and rice) to the fact that a high percentage of middle school age children have already had oral sex. How to

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-26734652373946148322010-01-19T22:38:00.004-05:002010-01-19T22:49:04.772-05:00

After three years together and almost one year of wedded bliss, Dear Husband thought he had seen it all, the parties, the talking too loud, the drama, the dancing and the weird food (morcilla, cow’s stomach, tongue, etc). Little did he know that there was still more to come. To be honest I thought also there were no more cultural differences to be introduced to him, no more shocking family

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-48264300862484985612010-01-18T14:12:00.004-05:002010-01-19T10:03:17.880-05:00

I once took one of those silly facebook quizes and found out my nationality was meant to be German. Apparently my personality it’s at odds with my nationality, race or whatever you may call it. I thought the quiz was stupid since I didn’t feel I had any of the stereotypical traits that German people are supposed to have. Organization, punctuality, coldness, reserve, nerves of steel and an

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-13934281302877282742010-01-13T17:01:00.003-05:002010-01-13T17:04:44.132-05:00

This Sunday, January 10, 2010 Dear Husband and I were freezing out in record breaking cold for Florida in the dog park with Zoey. It was misty, sunny, bitter cold and damp and we laughed seeing her run not knowing the day that lay ahead of us. My mom’s cousin was staying with her for the holidays and was getting ready to go to mass. He had spent Christmas and New Year’s with us and had fun with

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-24656603593020437532010-01-08T10:00:00.005-05:002010-01-08T10:07:16.693-05:00

My cousin was yesterday despairing in her blog about our generation’s lack of gentlemen. She didn’t mean men, but gentlemen. Those who didn’t text to ask you out but left a calling cards at your home with the butler. Those who had to call you by your last name because calling you by your first was taking a liberty. Those who would get up, no matter how many times it needed to be done, every

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-1790938416059311522010-01-04T12:19:00.003-05:002010-01-04T13:06:20.339-05:00

Well everybody here’s a new year before us, what to do with the time that has been given? I am determined to stay true to my resolutions and so far this four days have been meatless, none of God’s creatures have died to feed me (aside from the salmon on my rainbow rolls) but I did spend them in bed reading instead of being more active. Tomorrow after work I should be meeting BT for some very,

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-83425374773360851252010-01-02T23:35:00.002-05:002010-01-02T23:40:20.971-05:00

I just came home from an exhausting weekend with the family and I mean exhausting because having too much fun takes its toll. We (Dear Husband, sister, mom, uncle, and pets) drove up to Tampa to hang out with the family we have there. The same family who lovingly open their home to me when I was spoiled brat 8 years ago used to asking for everything and doing nothing on my own.We spent two

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-36129289211651046802009-12-28T17:33:00.004-05:002009-12-28T18:00:38.542-05:00

I can safely say that in the twenty seven years of my life I have never, even once stuck to my New Year’s resolutions. At least not the whole lot of them. One year I did stick to one of them and lost a lot of weight and ended up 109 pounds of bony chin and clavicles (so unattractive) and another year I did finally learn how to drive (yeah I was 25 when I finally did it but the point is I got it

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-60620107267772699352009-12-27T11:02:00.003-05:002009-12-27T11:43:23.334-05:00

Oh what a night. We, Dear Husband, sister and I, after a delicious (and expensive) dinner at an amazing restaurant called Leila’s went home to watch Julie and Julia. What a better way to end an amazing night but to enjoy the always breathtaking Meryl Streep. Now I do not know about cooking, and as much as I hate to admit I don’t know much about blogging but I couldn’t help but relate to Julie

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-2013763143780464742009-12-25T14:59:00.001-05:002009-12-25T15:01:25.383-05:00

Oh the many things to be thankful for, family, friends, music, food, alcohol, alka-seltzer and extra strength Tylenol. I woke up this morning and I am 27 years old today, almost 30 and lucky that I am alive, healthy and surrounded by the many people in my life that love me and enrich my existence. I usually hate my birthdays, it makes me uncomfortable cutting the cake with people looking at me

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-16359959731260166082009-12-21T11:51:00.003-05:002009-12-21T14:48:47.652-05:00

As I prepared myself to read the sad news of Brittany Murphy’s death, I saw in Yahoo! News that Venezuela’s abductor president was saying that Angels Fall (Salto Angel) the tallest waterfall in the world was no longer going to be called Angels Falls since there was no way for U.S. Pilot Jimmy Angel to “discover” them since that would imply no one was living in the area at the time (1937). In

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-74359837084655726122009-12-16T15:06:00.003-05:002009-12-16T15:08:25.618-05:00

I have a confession to make. I am a sucker for romance novels. It might come as a surprise to those who do not know me, and have never been in my house, or been overwhelmed by my ever filling bookcase, but I am. I think is a funny, inexplicable trait in me because I am in general an untrusting, glib, and sarcastic no-bullshit kind of girl, but there is something about true romance that makes my

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-48245321753155280342009-12-09T23:36:00.003-05:002009-12-09T23:39:12.141-05:00

I have realized just now that I have never said the words “Te Amo” to anybody. I read them in corny, translated to Spanish, Harlequin books, heard Antonio Banderas huskily and sexily said them to irresistible women on TV, but never, not even once have I said those words to any living creature before. And for the first time since…ever, I have noticed it. What it’s in a name, Shakespeare would

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-19927967823597744102009-12-08T12:46:00.002-05:002009-12-08T12:49:15.117-05:00

According to Sarah Dowdey of www.howstuffworks.com “A smell can bring on a flood of memories, influence people's moods and even affect their work performance. Because the olfactory bulb is part of the brain's limbic system, an area so closely associated with memory and feeling it's sometimes called the "emotional brain," smell can call up memories and powerful responses almost instantaneously.

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-35653612188145665292009-12-07T15:59:00.004-05:002009-12-07T17:11:27.313-05:00

At lunch today we were all discussing our memories of prom night. Some were dumped by their boyfriends, others (like me) had the guy they liked showing up with their ex girlfriend, and another had their graduation so long ago she had to waltz with her father as a tradition. When you work with someone from Argentina, Puerto Rico, Bulgaria and New York, recounting war stories from high school can

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-15395426397390663342009-12-02T18:59:00.003-05:002009-12-02T19:08:29.502-05:00

So Tiger is spreading the love even though he has a wife of six years and two children. When a beautiful woman like Erin cannot keep her husband satisfied it makes one wonder. Who can? If success, fame, fortune, health and love cannot keep you happy then what can? Tiger is THE numero uno golf player in the world. He is at the height of his career, he has a beautiful family, he has everything

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-57732047995649582842009-11-30T14:48:00.005-05:002009-11-30T17:13:06.889-05:00

I apologize to those of you who kindly take the time to read my blog for the long days of not posting. I was hit with a thing I call writer's block (and other folks just call sheer lazyness) and couldn't find a thing to say. If you have nothing interesting to say better stay quiet right?. I didn't want to bore you guys with blathering nonesense just for the sake of posting something. Anywho, Oh

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-31043540464040617062009-11-19T16:30:00.005-05:002009-11-20T12:01:39.886-05:00

I was reading today about Kate Moss’ comment that was taken completely out of context but that sparked a lot of controversy (you people just loooooove the word “outrage” and “controversy” way too much) and made the people fighting the “beauty is bones” view have a mini stroke of rage. Apparently Moss was asked what motto she lived by and her answer was: “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-32215316067299701302009-11-18T12:10:00.003-05:002009-11-18T12:24:45.665-05:00

Yesterday I read in the news that Transparency International published its annual Corruption Perception Index which ranks 180 countries according to the “perceived” levels of corruption. While the sentence “perceived corruption” makes it sound less factual and more conjectural I am sure it is a fairly accurate list. Venezuela was ranked 162 on the list, just 18 spots from the last, only 9 above

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-75369702171551685772009-11-16T14:24:00.002-05:002009-11-16T14:27:26.824-05:00

I need to stop reading the news because all they do is put me in a bad mood at the stupidity of some people. Some people (I am hoping is just “some”) are apparently outraged over President Obama bowing to the Emperor of Japan (some dude named Akihito). I was reading the reactions and everyone seems to think the same, that it was some sort of humiliating move that makes the United States seemed

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-81819136976221129272009-11-11T10:50:00.001-05:002009-11-11T10:52:17.399-05:00

I have to admit that this is the first year this day holds any meaning for me. Not because before I was indifferent to its meaning, or because I didn’t care or wasn’t thankful, but because a Veteran I knew passed away this morning. He was sweet, kind, funny, spunky, witty, stubborn, smart and had so many things to say. He lived to be 92 and I feel it was just yesterday we celebrated his 88th

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-91848096458717371482009-11-10T12:22:00.003-05:002009-11-10T12:32:15.997-05:00

I don’t think most people here realize just how amazing it is to be able to enjoy watching the seasons change. Most people here take for granted the breathtaking coloring of the leaves, the white pristine snow that cover their cars, bloomy spring that comes and greets you when you’ve had enough of white and gray and blistering summer when you are yearning for the beach. They rather concentrate

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-28564953302615394702009-11-09T15:14:00.006-05:002009-11-10T10:25:25.664-05:00

Yesterday I woke up at noon and spent my afternoon lying on the couch watching TV. I ran across the movie Milk and was about to change it because of my previously discussed feelings of anger toward Sean Penn but… I can’t stand the man but it cannot be denied he is an amazing actor, the motherf*cker had the nerve to make me forget it was him and before I knew it I was riding along with Harvey on

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-83921157917182332762009-11-06T12:12:00.006-05:002009-11-06T12:21:59.431-05:00

My body aches, I have crammed this week two 40-minutres sessions of cardio on the treadmill, yoga, abs and arms workouts and even my lashes are weeping. People here are obsessed with fitness which is funny specially when one considers the fact that America is one of the heaviest (I don’t like the word fat) countries in the world. Like I have pointed out before this

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-83757004355136983612009-11-04T12:01:00.007-05:002009-11-04T13:50:22.693-05:00

I was reading the news the other day and ran into the case of the Justice of Peace in Louisiana who resigned his post after refusing to marry an interracial couple. When Dear Husband told me about it he wasn’t really incensed but he was a little put out by it since we are an interracial couple ourselves and I just couldn’t muster enough caring to give a damn. I will be honest and say that maybe

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-36961635966244054372009-11-03T16:23:00.004-05:002009-11-04T14:12:40.458-05:00

One only has to turn the TV on to see all those faces full of hope, talent and sheer determination. From singing hopefuls with beautiful voices to limber stretchy dancers who twirl on a stage hoping for a chance to shine. The U.S. truly is the land of dreams. Not because here they magically happen but because here you can dream about being whatever the hell you want without having to worry about

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-43827541177210092472009-10-30T13:06:00.001-04:002009-10-30T13:16:49.034-04:00

Now that I am happily married to my own blue eyed gringo, I am always stricken by the differences between us and our respective families. Marriage is hard business indeed, (all that seating on pee because they won’t put the sit up, hearing them go the bathroom, or worse yet when you are warned not to go in right after they leave it…it’s hard work indeed. Since my cousins, my sister and I are

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-6066547192724804082009-10-29T16:40:00.002-04:002009-10-29T16:42:59.365-04:00

I had an amazing conversation with some of the women I know today. After a few minutes of talking about marriage, relationships and how hard it is to keep the spark alive after decades, we got to talk about cheating. Some said it was, regardless of who does the cheating, definitely something that both people are at fault for, one half because it does the cheating and the other half because it

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-42708815269486633432009-10-28T16:33:00.003-04:002009-10-28T16:45:27.200-04:00

I know I am probably going to step on a lot of toes writing this post but here I go. My cousin, who is an even bigger flaming liberal than I am (and that’s saying something) has this blog war going on with another girl who shall remain nameless. Apparently the girl who is a devout Christian goes hunting and was excited about killing Bamby’s mom last week or so. My cousin is a devout liberal

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-78698611808723841452009-10-27T11:45:00.004-04:002009-10-28T12:58:09.974-04:00

Dear Husband is turning almost 30 today! Happy B-day to the man who rocks my world, wakes me up with coffee (after I scream COFFEE PLEASE! from the bathroom), the man who walks our dog and lets me sleep, who is sweet even when I am being a total bitch and who this morning talked to my cat Max called him “Sossy” and told him he would have to wait to drink from the sink because he was using it.

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-83305730174649973422009-10-23T11:16:00.003-04:002009-10-23T11:30:17.888-04:00

My mom has a sweet heart. She was an awesome mom growing up with a ready ear and an open mind, strict rules and a damn heavy hand. That woman could whoop your ass faster than George Clooney can fuck a waitress. She didn’t mess around either. She gave you a warning if you sassed her, told you to cool off but if you hadn’t shut the hell up by warning number three she would smack you with a wooden

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-1277518458248815142009-10-22T11:13:00.004-04:002009-10-22T11:46:42.944-04:00

I am equally annoyed by racism as I am for the minorities who choose to use the race card and use racism at the drop of a hat over nothing and be like the kid that cried wolf and got eaten for being a dumbass. Every single time that I have gotten accused of racism I really want to get violent. I am not a racist, I do not have a bigot bone in my body, something I do not take credit for but thank

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-29065463215291590232009-10-21T10:21:00.006-04:002009-10-21T10:33:04.023-04:00

I love Jeopardy!, I was introduced to it by Dear Husband when we started dating and was amazed by how smart he was knowing all the Geography, Sports, History and Trivia questions (I kicked his ass on Literature, Mythology and Arts). Every time the Stupid Question, Stupid Answers category comes up (I’ve seen it at least 5 to 10 times in the last two years) I get pissed off, because the questions

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-3967648266533196222009-10-20T11:27:00.003-04:002009-10-20T15:52:08.986-04:00

Just after we finished moving Dear husband sent me a picture of the half toe nail he lost while helping someone else move some furniture around. The funny thing is he moved all of our furniture two weeks ago without any incident and then while helping one of my mom’s friend he got injured (he learned that lesson of wearing sandals while moving beds). I couldn’t help but immediately think that we

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-54389459049830247082009-10-19T14:15:00.003-04:002009-10-20T15:54:18.646-04:00

When I flip channels and see shows like “Toddlers and Tiaras”, “John and Kate plus 8”, “The Duggars and their 100 children whose names start on J” and stuff like that, I get the shivers. I do, I swear, every hair in my body stands on end and I get all goose-bumpy because the Catholic in me cannot help but remember what happened to Sodom and Gomorra after its corrupted society deteriorated to the

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-27426981345320465402009-10-15T11:32:00.004-04:002009-10-15T12:16:37.607-04:00

The Webster Dictionary defines change as: “To make a different in some particular or to replace with another” Why is this relevant? I have no effing clue, I just felt like I was writing an essay and isn’t that how they all start? When I signed up to blog about Climate Change for Blog Action Day 2009 http://www.blogactionday.org/ to join in worldwide efforts toward awareness I had no idea writing

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-28334821906027378542009-10-14T11:26:00.006-04:002009-10-14T17:50:55.521-04:00

It took me almost four years to pay a $5,000 credit card debt that I racked up after buying myself a pretty bedroom set, a living room set and a 10-day trip to New York City and Boston. Every time I saw that looming $2,900 and $2,000 on two separate credit cards I got short breathed and panicky. How the hell was I going to pay $5,000 with a $10.00/hr job (that I loved) and with rent, cell phone,

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-30921506199224236782009-10-14T10:09:00.003-04:002009-10-14T17:53:02.006-04:00

Thank you, to all those truckers that honked for my ass back in the day. Thank you to the construction worker who whistled and called me “mami! Estas sabrosa” (mami you are yummy). Thank you to all those men who whispered sweet, disgusting nothings in my ear while I walked to the subway station back home. Nobody knows what they have until they lose it and oh how true that is because in eight

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-48937011886629325782009-10-13T17:08:00.004-04:002009-10-14T17:54:41.801-04:00

I’ve always thought it was awesome when non-Hispanic people tell me of their assumptions or perceptions of us Latinos. I’ve always thought that even when sometimes they are not flattering or accurate assumptions and perception it was interesting to see what they thought and to view ourselves from their point of view. Dear husband for example doesn’t understand why we (my family) are so

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-52780622663255376742009-10-09T16:37:00.003-04:002009-10-14T17:56:48.552-04:00

I don’t know who to credit with the idea of house warming parties, bachelorette parties, baby showers, bridal showers and all other celebrations that require a poor schmock to bring a present to someone who is getting more presents in a few days anyway (brides you know who you are!), or buying a baby swing for someone who is going to sit you down and make you guess the poop without offering some

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-73636563782493457762009-10-08T12:16:00.009-04:002009-10-09T10:09:49.112-04:00

I had a dream last night that Dear Husband was taking me to the airport because I was finally going to visit home (yay!) and on the way there we realized my passport had expired - a recurring dream that I always wake up from feeling frustrated and sad :'( - and my suitcases for some reason went flying off the car onto I-95. Dear Husband then proceeded to jump out to go get them and then had to

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-64945654940189794132009-10-07T13:58:00.003-04:002009-10-07T14:11:26.817-04:00

As a blogger who writes about the differences between this country, its people, its costumes and the ones I left behind I am always presented with the problem of what to call its citizens. I am sure a U.S. Citizen wouldn’t have a problem calling himself North American but as a Colombian/Venezuelan from South America I understand that the description is not completely accurate since North

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-91080518172438823602009-10-06T17:24:00.003-04:002009-10-07T11:46:18.254-04:00

Talking about hugging irrevocably reminds me of the time I was hanging out with my cousins at their Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints (back when they were members of the religion and I had nothing else to do) and they gave us a class on how to “properly” hug. If a girl and a guy hugged side to side (shoulder to shoulder) it was acceptable as well and front to front as long as

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-49061169628761029002009-10-06T16:23:00.002-04:002009-10-06T16:28:53.381-04:00

I’m starting to believe that part of me has become too accustomed to this country. I am so happy here that at some point in my life I stopped wanting to go back home, except to visit (every time I say this out loud I feel like such a traitor) I am forgetting some words in Spanish and I shake hands when I get introduced to people without pulling them forward to land them a kiss. I was so used to

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-82883633070292614442009-10-06T14:07:00.003-04:002009-10-06T14:11:10.274-04:00

In a totally unrelated post, I just wanted to share with you guys the shaming fact that I am being booty called every night by a dark creature with dark hair and green eyes. He is mean, rude, sexy and sleek. He slaps me around the face to wake me up and I let him. I like him; I can’t help it because I love him. Every night around two in the morning he struts his stuff inside my room, up my bed

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-42321769804397491642009-10-02T15:54:00.001-04:002009-10-02T16:21:09.576-04:00

Among the many family members I am proud and happy to have, there are a selected few who are lucky enough to have solved all their immigration paperwork. For the records I would like to clarify that although I am an immigrant I have never been illegally in this country the name of the blog just sounds cooler with the word illegal in it but in support of my fellow immigrants that struggle I

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-7042352472204409422009-09-30T11:58:00.005-04:002009-09-30T12:19:47.069-04:00

I was thinking a few days ago of the umbilical cord that my mom kept after my birth (don’t ask me why) and proceeded to show to me when I was 6 years old. I remember it so clearly! (Believe me I wish I didn’t) It was a small shriveled piece of brown meat that looked like cat poop and had me running to the bathroom to throw up my corn flakes. I know I just complained about my mother who smacked

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-13767192295848118082009-09-29T16:17:00.008-04:002009-09-29T17:23:33.168-04:00

There are few things that piss me off more than celebrities that feel the need to tell the world of their political views….Okay I am lying, the fact is usually celebrities and I are of one mind when it comes to politics since I am a flaming liberal (as my dear husband calls me) and they are too. But one thing about celebrities that does piss me off is when they go off to talk about another

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-63353065030176409382009-09-25T13:23:00.004-04:002009-09-25T13:38:05.596-04:00

I always thought it was weird in the movies when the teenage son or daughter left home when they are eighteen to embark on their collegiate adventures of underage drinking, getting laid, partying until five in the morning to run to class hangover and for the first time being the sole maker of the your own decisions. It seemed amazing to me that the parents actually LET their children go to

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-41935456018416363042009-09-24T14:17:00.002-04:002009-09-24T18:14:16.282-04:00

I have for the first time since my arrival found something in common with the average American woman. My experience with American women is very limited, I admit. I am (I truly am I swear) allergic to drama, I hate scenes, and crying, jealous ranting and catty gossip (regular gossip I like just fine) and women in general (regardless of their nationality) are a dramatic and watery bunch, so my

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-1200074053249321532009-09-23T17:15:00.003-04:002009-09-23T17:24:59.388-04:00

There are, I firmly believe, three types of Hispanic immigrants in this country: The ones that come to the U.S. and turned out to behave more like gringos than the ones descendants of the Mayflower. They surround themselves exclusively of American friends or any other foreigner as long as is not Hispanic. They forget how to dance merengue and they all dance like Justin Timberlake, listen only

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-31540221702104478792009-09-23T16:48:00.003-04:002009-09-23T17:11:41.058-04:00

I am convinced I came to the U.S. at the worst possible time in someone’s life. As a young adult who is leaving the teens and who had no time whatsoever to misbehave before that. I found myself at twenty-four with a complete lack of knowledge on anything worth knowing and with no experiences whatsoever under my belt. I had come to the U.S. and had been thrown into the hectic day to day life and

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-22782196284362667652009-09-18T16:19:00.006-04:002009-09-18T16:25:25.502-04:00

Oh how I would like to say that all it took was to see a grown man reduced to tears over a football game for me to give up, but I was feeling more magnanimous than I thought because I saw a lot more of Frodo than I care to admit. There was something about his blatant adoration and the fact that I felt like I could unleash my inner bitch on him without repercussions that made him attractive to me

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-36554198635859567922009-09-18T11:18:00.003-04:002009-09-18T13:46:36.808-04:00

There are, in this beautiful language I love, so many expression that confuse me and remind me I have ways to go and so much to learn and there are also many cultural differences between us that after eight years living here still keep popping up. Here are a few examples: “How about them apples?” Always a sure way to make me feel out of place. What about the apples? What is going on with the

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-81398983584794352742009-09-15T15:51:00.006-04:002009-10-09T12:26:11.322-04:00

I don’t think I will ever run out of things to talk about regarding my exile in America. I have, as anthropologists say “gone native”, I believe my accent is almost gone (unless you ask me to say the word focus, or rural and then I’m screwed). One of the new things I had to experience as I got used to living in this country was dating. I, like any good Latina girl was used to having boyfriends.

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-81632480882633748612009-09-14T16:05:00.007-04:002009-09-16T12:19:45.217-04:00

I'm missing home so much it has turned into this physical pain that takes my breath away. I feel like a part of me is missing, there is a void in me that nothing but home will fill. I feel it in my chest growing like a living thing, feeding of my memories, taking over, and at times getting numbed by the other feelings in me, but always, always, coming back to haunt me. I get my "home fix

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-13144668058361690102009-09-14T15:32:00.006-04:002010-05-05T17:38:50.985-04:00

It’s amazing how time flies when you have to go to work each day. Before I knew it I had a routine, friends, people I recognized and recognized me when I went to the supermarket. I had a life. I was someone once again. Some part of me felt like a traitor. I was supposed to grieve forever the theft of my country! I was supposed to feel forever the burning pain of being ripped apart from my only

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-15602702954985793012009-09-14T15:09:00.002-04:002009-09-16T12:07:07.637-04:00

My break finally came when I was at the end of my rope. I had been at McDonald’s for a year and half and gone from crew member to trainer to manager because I figured more responsibilities would make the job more interesting (the hell?). I remember the moment I walked toward my job interview, driven by my then boyfriend (who was also a manager at McDonald’s) and in I walked to the office

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-64149441668876976142009-09-14T14:50:00.004-04:002009-09-15T15:50:48.569-04:00

Behind all the pain and sweat and fly-swallowing and the almost terroristic hatred I developed for that place; I despite all odds feel in love. Fell for the people that I met there. With the Spanish crew that worked harder than me and complained less. With the many people I met there that were always there for me and so willing to help. I befriended the crazy gringa who told me her life story

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-33621475738564035612009-09-14T14:32:00.003-04:002009-09-14T14:41:17.139-04:00

By the time my first week was over I hated the U.S., I hated McD’s, I hated their customers who wanted to be treated as if they were in a five star restaurant instead of a fast food joint. I got accused of being racist at countless times when I told customers I couldn’t give them 10 packs of sweet and sour sauce when all they bought was one bag of French fries. I was called racist when I let an

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-70204870134484645002009-09-14T10:26:00.003-04:002010-05-05T17:26:52.688-04:00

I woke up the first morning of my new job terrified of taking that first baby step toward economic independence. The jitters were smoothed away by my mom’s obvious pride, her insistence of taking a picture in that horribly unflattering uniform and my uncle’s unconditional support and wisdom who told me: “Just spit in their hamburger if they get racist”. Bless his heart. I walked into Mickey D’

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-1215117510058344792009-09-11T17:59:00.005-04:002010-05-05T17:23:31.286-04:00

We became the ultimate Hispanic cliché and started cleaning houses. When the opportunity knocked I thought nothing of it. I was already planning and wistfully thinking of the hair products I would buy for the brillo pad currently residing atop my head. I giggled when thinking of makeup I would not get from Publix or CVS, I could smell the strawberries and champagne lotion I would get from

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-68772096319163799602009-09-11T17:53:00.003-04:002010-05-05T17:14:03.850-04:00

That first year of my new life, as corny as it sounds, was a journey to self-discovery. I found out more about myself in those strenuous 12 months than I had in my whole previous life. I found out I could cook and quite well! I learned it all from watching my mom all my life, because it was a household chore she never gave up even when we had a maid. I became the designated chef for the family

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-18708957160619165472009-09-11T17:48:00.002-04:002009-09-11T17:53:23.969-04:00

After the epiphany I had in my aunt’s van I located my month-lost backbone and bitch-slapped myself with it. “Put yourself together!” I said to myself. Shame on you for wallowing for an entire month, so selfish, so self indulgent! I pushed away the annoyance I felt at my aunt and uncle for having moved to Miami of all places, how selfish of them! If they had moved to Italy or Spain, England, I

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-7986327746050850632009-09-11T17:36:00.006-04:002009-09-11T23:19:30.747-04:00

A month had gone by since my arrival to Miami, every day of which I spent in bed, sleeping or staring at the wall, ignoring my family, showering only when my head itched and eating only when I couldn’t put it off any longer. Food tasted so different it was hard to swallow. The only thing that tasted the same was bread and butter so it became the staple of my diet. I gained 8 pounds that month

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-75991465230015775022009-09-11T17:30:00.005-04:002010-05-05T16:57:07.008-04:00

I didn’t utter a word during the four hours of travel. I waved goodbye to my home from the plane, the city shrinking before my eyes, thinking stubbornly that I was going to be back, that I would walk those streets again a month from now. We finally landed in Miami Airport (which in and on itself deserves a chapter in my story) not very welcoming with its thousand people walking around, bumping

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-56526293508354814982009-09-11T17:26:00.002-04:002009-09-11T17:30:24.216-04:00

What to do? What to do?! God, to say I panicked is a giant understatement. I ranted, I pleaded, I was rational, then hysterical, I tried talking, I tried yelling, but the fact was that with or without my cooperation my then tiny ass was going to be on that plane come April the 28. I guess I could’ve said no, I could’ve done whatever I wanted! I was 18 years old and by law old enough to make my

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-20577253451075382582008-09-15T12:11:00.003-04:002009-09-11T17:20:09.106-04:00

It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a weak mind is easily swayed and I mine was. I thought I should at least consider the possibility of moving to the U.S, after all any place was better place to live than my country at the moment. So I decided to stop acting childish and I did some research, I went online, and at the risk of insulting this beautiful nation I'll admit that if before I

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-77633489348548664452008-09-10T10:12:00.005-04:002009-09-11T17:15:54.114-04:00

Most North Americans think we immigrants are all dying to get here. They don't seem to understand that for me, coming here was never a possibility, never a thought that crossed my mind. Leaving home was not something I had considered before and only Chavez and the beautiful promise of Spain (and Paris a train away) would make me consider leaving home. If my sister hadn't been to Spain I doubt

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-46201772606466873402008-08-18T15:50:00.003-04:002009-09-11T17:12:15.286-04:00

After a short coup attempt, Chavez was back in power. It was the most short-lived pleasure of my life so far. How deliriously happy we were! “We don't have to leave after all” Was the main thought going through my mind. Mere 24 hours after he was smiling to the cameras again addressing the nation reassuring his followers he was back and nothing would get in the way of this revolution. No matter

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-43092250965603588992008-07-16T16:28:00.003-04:002009-09-11T17:08:30.648-04:00

I don’t think I can make justice to the moments. There’s no way to describe how we felt, trapped in the house for a whole week. I’ve read tales of war, of death and murders. I am Colombian is hard to be one without being related to someone that can tell a drunken chilly story about someone’s death by the hands of the guerrillas. Could’ve been worse? Yes, much worse! Was it anything compared to

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-25613891382061967752008-07-16T16:22:00.006-04:002009-09-11T17:03:31.870-04:00

On April 9, 2002 the leader of the Confederation of Venezuelan Workers called for a two-day strike against the government. Hundreds of thousands of members of the opposition took the streets in protest. Caracas, the capital, and the country were for that whole month unlivable. What was supposed to be a peaceful demonstration turned into a mini war. Nothing, however, could stop the opposition;

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7734180890247219486.post-25706113858724644212008-06-24T14:08:00.003-04:002009-09-11T16:43:29.498-04:00

No country but a country that has suffered the indescribable pain of civil war can understand what it means to be divided. To have the citizens of a nation go against each other seems unnatural, yet somehow history keeps repeating itself, and while it has happened and possibly will happen again, and again, and again in countries around the world, it had been years since deep beliefs had father

Mel82http://www.blogger.com/profile/03624408337551385676noreply@blogger.com2