Introduction... by: MN

Kayla's remark on the new blog entry:

"Hi everyone. I'm going to share with all of you the words of my very own English teacher.He tried to reply to my last blog entry but, D'Hole tried to eat him in the process... So he allowed me to share his writing with you all.... Hope you like"

KFR

INTRODUCTION

It was a boring day. Emily had texted three friends, to see if anyone wanted to go the mall; she had painted her fingernails a color her mother would object to (“it’s not black and it’s not goth,” she would tell her, “it’s Umbrian Night!”); the computer was off limits after her last report card.

Her last report card—that was the trouble. The C in math was taken with composure, the D in science was acknowledged almost with approval, no one noticed physical education….

The F’s in English and History caused a riot.
“I am utterly appalled,” began her father, the Regis Professor of Islamic History at the University of Connecticut, “that any child of MINE….”

…here he looked speculatively at his wife.

“Leave this to me, Herbert” his wife took over. “No television, no internet, no Facebook, no telephone conversations longer than three minutes, no Ipod, no…”
Here she stopped, mentally trying to recall any other diversions that she loathed of the last

century.

She’d been looking for just such a chance, thought Emily. Bitch…

“We’ll be meeting with each one of your teachers,” she carried, getting more and more steamed.

“This is completely unacceptable. At your age I was reading Murder in the Cathedral, not an easy text for a fifteen year old—or anyone at any age, for that matter. And I had completely given up on my High School English teacher—he was a general moron—and had tracked down Connory at Yale. The hours we spent! And look at you! Lazy, ignorant, completely mindless! You probably don’t know even who wrote Murder in the Cathedral!”

Emily was ready.

“Yeah, he was a virgin until age 26, then got hitched. Then the ‘great Bertrand Russell’ (this said in her snottiest voice) started screwing his wife…” These were the two facts she remembered from having done a report on him last year.

“Well I should hope the great Bertand Russell would screw his wife,” commented her father.

“Unless of course you meant that Russell was screwing Eliot’s wife?”

Typical, thought Emily. It was a family fought that logic with complaints about usage of words, fought sense with quibbles over grammar, fought EVERYTHING with objections about syntax, punctuation, pronunciation, and the like.

Emily hated it.

“I could give a FLYING FUCK,’ she screamed, and her mother was on top of her—figuratively, this was the Regis Professor of Islamic History’s home, after all—and screaming back.

“YOU WILL SPEND YOUR WEEKENDS IN THE LIBRARY, WITH YOUR FATHER!”

The professor jerked his head in alarm.

“YOU WILL STUDY, YOU WILL READ, YOU WILL PREPARE A SPECIAL PROJECT IN ENGLISH TO AMELIORATE—IF THAT’S POSSIBLE—YOUR HORRIFYING GRADES! YOUR FATHER WILL DIRECT YOU!”

And here she was—in the library. Not, of course, the Municipal Library, but their home library. That was typical, too. Everyone else had a rec room, or a den, or maybe even a study. “Where do your parents watch TV?” her friends used to ask. And before she started to lie, just at puberty, she had had to tell them. There was no TV in the house, just a very large room with four walls crammed with books. That took the place of TV.

There she was, in the library, with her father, happily reading an 18th century text in Arabic, Farsi, Persian, for all she knew. She was seated across from her father at a large, mahagonny desk, the book her mother had chosen for her in front of her.

“It’s not so bad,” her father said, and smiled sheepishly (he knew who wore the pants in the family, and it wasn’t him…).

“I read it years ago. And it really is an organized way to go about the subject.”

“Dad,” began Emily.

“Just start. We’ll go over it before dinner, so the dragon can’t breathe too much fire.”
He was hard to resist, when he smiled, and set himself to making friends with his daughter. The dragon was their private nickname for her mother, of course. It made a bond between them.
She took up the book, and sneezed. Harvey’s Grammer, 1880, she read, and flipped through the pages. There were, of course, no illustrations.

“As a general rule, a nice place to start a book is at the beginning,” her father suggested, and smiled. And so she had. She opened to the first chapter.

“The English languge,” it began, “is composed of words derived from a rich variety of sources, and comprises an extensive vocabulary which, when wielded carefully by the thoughtful writer or speaker, may be tolerably assured to convey the exact meaning that said author or orator may wish to employ.”

Not a good beginning, thought Emily.

“In order successfully to use this magnificent tongue, however, the diligent student will need to exert himself carefully to study and to understand the English language from its most basic elements, the so-called parts of speech, to its most glorious creations of grammar, syntax, and punctuation, so that after time, and careful application to the accepted rules and standards which educated persons…”

“Glorious creations?” though Emily.

She skimmed thereafter, each sentence becoming longer and heavier, like cigar smoke hanging on old velvet curtains. Her eyes grew heavy, she began to yawn. The words got bigger, and then smaller; the print fuzzier, and then sharp as razor blades. One word—fastidious—caught her attention, and then the print grew larger and larger, until her whole vision was caught in the word. Still it grew, and she could see only the middle of the word—the tid –and then the print rushed forward, the i of fell backward, and she was being pulled into the word, spinning and spinning within it, and then she was falling, falling, and letters were going past her at a dizzying rate, and punctuation marks, too. She thrust her hands out, but it was no use. All air, nothing she could grab onto.

Then she landed.

“The Bitch Dragon (that was her private name for her mother) has made me into Alice and Wonderland,” she though crossly. What would Alice do, she wondered, but then a hand was on her shoulder.

“Not hurt, I hope?” said a beautiful voice above her. She looked and saw…
…paradise. Or rather, an elegant, slim, thirty-ish gentleman wearing a frock coat. His eyes were brown, his skin smooth and cinnamon-colored, his mustache and hair carefully waxed. His smile was both sweet, and sexy, and his look told her that never in his life would he be anything less than good-natured, happy, sweet.

“Who are you,” she began, “I mean, where am I? What’s happened to me? Who are all these people in funny clothes running about?”

“You’re not from here?” he inquired.

“I sure am not,” she said.

“Well, well, a fallen angel, as I call them. It happens, sometimes. You weren’t, by any chance, reading just before you got here?”

“Well, yeah, I was—I mean, sorta. I guess I was like trying….”

“Delightful—that explains it. It doesn’t happen frequently, of course, but it doesn’t matter. You’re here, and we’ll have a wonderful time! Ahh, just for my information, what were you reading when you fell into the book?”

“Is that what I did?” Emily asked.

“It does appear so. You were reading…?”

“Harvey’s Grammar,” said Emily.

“Harvey’s Grammar! HARVEY’S GRAMMAR?? Well, that’s wonderful! And no wonder you fell through the book—a more thoroughly dull affair couldn’t be imagined. Now let’s see, what would I be dressed in—a frock coat, by any chance.”

“Beats me what you’re wearing,” said Emily. “You should know, you put it on….”

He tousled her hair gently.

No,” he said, “I did not. It’s not what I’m wearing, it’s what you’re seeing, you see. I’m not really wearing anything at all. But come along, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got far better things to do. You’ve come on the most wonderful day of all, a capital day, a magnificent day.”
People in Victorian garb continued to rush past them.

“So what’s happening,” said Emily.

“Oh, the best thing in the world! Capital amusement! A grand convention of the United Brotherhood of Parts of Speech! And guess what! They’re voting on a proposal—a proposal to secede; to leave the world of men; to withdraw, as one said, with dignity until you imbecile mortals realize what you’re missing, and beg us back to our proper place again.”

“Not too damn likely,” thought Emily. “But I suppose I should follow the guy. What else is there to do?”

She chose to ignore the fact that, as beautiful as he was, she couldn’t have left him if she tried.

“So maybe you should tell me your name?” she said.

“I’m Amiable,” he said.

“Yeah, I know you’re amiable,” she said.

“Then why did you ask?” he said.

“’cause I wanted to know your name!” said Emily.

“I’m Amiable,” he said.

“Look, stop telling me your amiable—what are you, some kind of broken record? Just tell me your name!”

He laughed then—a hearty, pleasant laugh that made his waxed mustache glisten.

“Dear girl, I’d forgotten. I’m the first word you’ve ever met! Please don’t think badly of me.

My name is Amiable, with a capital A, and I am… “
…he bowed deeply…

“a humble adjective, at your service.”

Feminine Action

I have a kind of fascination and special interest in the well being and health of the female human kind. It must be because I’m a woman, or maybe because I do believe that to be a female is a special attribute or gift. When I was a little girl, my mom taught me how to appreciate the fact that I was a woman. Since then, I’ve learned to honor my femininity and all the good things that being a woman involve. Today, I’m a grown-up lady with a sophisticated point of view of what it means to be a woman in the 21 century.

During the last decades of the twentieth century, women all around the world struggled to achieve success and to ensure womens’ rights, dignity and place in the modern world. At the end, women in the world united and the feminist movement was born. This movement succeeded creating a new beginning for women all around the globe. Of course, not everything that happened can be considered an achievement, but with no doubt I can assure you that women have achieved a lot during the past 5 or 6 decades.

However, this morning I was reading “El Nuevo Día” and I found an article that captured my attention. It was related to sexually transmitted diseases (STD’s) and their increasing occurrence in young women between the ages of 21 and 35 years. The number one STD in USA and in Puerto Rico its Chlamydia, and its occurrence is high in young women. The worst part of this news is that Chlamydia is a silent disease, so you may have it but it will take you months or even years to know that you are infected. As a result, you may lose your fertility or even your life in the process of discovering the condition.

This information makes me sad. It’s hard to believe that women my age are unaware of the dangers and risks of contracting an STD’s when they engage in the practice of unprotected sex. Moreover, it is hard for me to understand that women of my generation feel good about fighting for their rights to have better jobs but are resistant to fighting for their rights to be and stay healthy. It makes no sense that in this new century, women are still afraid to ask their partners to use a condom in order to protect their own bodies from contracting an STD. This seems irrational to me, it makes no sense at all to put ourselves everyday at the risk of dying at a young age.

No third party is worth losing your health or even your life. If someone is in love with you and respects you, he or she would not hesitate to wear a condom when engaging in sexual intercourse with you. Protection should be more important than pride and its Latino version called “machismo.” Wearing a condom is an easy and cheap way to show love and respect for our significant other. This practice should only change or cease when the couple is engaged in a monogamous and faithful relationship.

I know there is not a way to protect ourselves 100%, however, it is our responsibility to engage in safe and healthy sexual practices in order to preserve our lives and the life of our partner. It is part of being an adult to take care of ourselves and to ensure a healthy and long lasting life. There is nothing wrong in avoiding the risk of contracting an STD. Be aware, stay healthy.

Food and Literature; Part One.

Food and Literature Part I
“ A few words on Lunch in Paris and Eat, Love and Pray.”

I’m a food lover. I like to eat, cook, read and watch everything related to cooking and food. For the past 3 years I have been a permanent fan of Food Network and a huge fan of the 30 Minutes Meals hostess Rachael Ray. I like 30 Minutes Meals because, being a full time attorney, I do not have enough time to spend in the kitchen. By the same token, it is not always an easy task to cook only for a single person. However, I enjoy cooking very much and I do it every time I get a chance.

Since I began my English lessons, I took over on an old passion of mine: reading. Reading has been part of my life since I was a little girl. I remember the first book I bought with my own money: Alice in Wonderland. I bought it in a cruise ship converted in a sailing bookstore, it was August 1986. Later in life I decided to purse a career in Law and as many of you may know, reading is most of what law students and attorneys do during their careers. Today, in July 2010, I’m mixing my two main passions: reading and food.

As I have improved in my English lessons I have chosen to read more and more in English and more and more about food. I’m not only reading books focused on the nutritional aspects of food and its preparation, I’m also reading books and novels focused on the healing properties of food and its impact on the human souls and spirit.

During my summer vacation in California, I read Lunch in Paris, written by the American author living in Paris, Mrs. Elizabeth Bard (please refer to her blog http://www.elizabethbard.blogspot.com/.) In her book, Bard is telling her love story with Paris and with her now husband Gwendal, a Frenchman with a doctoral degree in engineering and a big dream of pursing a career in the making of digital movies. I like her story very much because she focuses not only on the well known beauty of the city of Paris, but also on the importance that Parisians gives to food and the art of cooking and eating. Bard even shares her recipes with the reader, and her tips to have a great homemade meal in the table every evening.

This book made me think about the magic surrounding food and its preparation. Every year on Thanksgiving day I share the celebrations in the house of one of my very best friends. (I’m blessed in having a few of them.) And to my delight, most of my very best friends enjoy cooking and food very much. Indeed, some of them have contributed to my knowledge about the topic and in my process of gaining weight (who can resist a piece of Alba’s apple pie with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.) When people gather to eat, they share more than food: they share their many blessing and the love and happiness of being family and friend. Most of my cherished memories are around a dining table.

I think that food is more than nutrition for the body: food is nutrition for the soul. I can’t deny that my passion for food have helped me in my heartbreak healing process. For the past 12 months I have increased my interest in food preparation and entertaining. I even (with the help and cooking expertise of friends) have managed to prepare dinner for more than 6 persons. All of my attempts had been successful and my friends are starting to like my food. However, I can’t deny I have a lot more to learn and a lot more to read and experience about the topic.

I’m reading Eat, Love, Pray, another book written by another Elizabeth, this time Ms. Elizabeth Gilbert. This book uses food and traveling as medicine for the soul, mind and heart. In Eat, Love, Pray, Gilbert tells her story of a year of traveling between Italy, India and Indonesia. After a rough divorce and a complicated affair with another man, Gilbert embarks in the trip of her lifetime. It is all about giving her the time, love and affection she has been looking by having relationships with men. I’m still reading about her adventures in Italy (I believe this is just one third of the book). During her stay in Italy, Rome to be more accurate, she enrolls in a language school to take Italian classes. Gilbert narrates her experience as a language students and how she manage to find herself studying partners.

To do the last, Elizabeth published a personal add requesting an Italian native interested in making a language exchange. The requirement was very simple: this Italian will help her to improve her Italian and in return, she will practice English with her new partner. This exchange really amused me. Sometimes we (and usually when I’m using “we” I’m really thinking I) want to learn how to do something but we stop ourselves to learn what we want because we are too afraid to ask for someone’s help. It is kind of stupid because sometimes we complain about the fact that we do nothing new or that we do not have enough friends, but most of the time we deprive ourselves of this experience of making friend just for fear of sharing our time and knowledge with another human being.

In the next few hours I will begin to read about Elizabeth’s experience in India. I know it will be interesting. Let’s see what she teaches me next. As of today I have learned through her words that love and healing can truly be experience through food. There is not inner pain that cannot be healed by some comfort food.

I will keep you all posted on my reading. Stay tuned for more Food and Literature, I will summarize my experience with Eat, Love, Pray (which I hope I can finish before the movie premiere) and I will begin telling all of you my experience with my new book on food: Kitchen Confidential. Ciao and Bon Appetite.

be Happy; be Merry, be Loved...

I have been working in the same letter for the past four hours and I’m tired. I just ate lunch and feel like having a Baskin Robins ice cream. But to be real, I need to stop eating. I’m having my 31st birthday this next Sunday and I need to start taking care of my body and my soul. I need to start skipping sugar and other human pleasures in order to live longer.

My friend Luis wrote me this morning with a magnificent proposal “let’s go to Australia”. WOW… I said yes immediately. However, in order to do that, we need to work for the next 365 days. Ironic but we still have student loans to pay off. But dreaming, they do not bill for dreaming. For example, yesterday I had a dream with my old boss. In my dream, I was asked by the president of my old company to go back to the business. He made a huge mistake; he asked me “my price”, and of course, my price was higher than 2 years ago.

Where I want to go with this, life is so short to be wasted. Life is too short to be useless. Live your life as is today is your last day in this planet. Just LIVE. Had fun, work hard but play harder. Be happy, be merry, love and be loved. Any minute you spent in problems, with money or taking care of business, is a minute of love you waste in something that is not worth the price.

In the countdown to my 31st birthday, I have just one wish; to live the magic of been loved. I want to live the magic of life. I want to be merry, be happy, love and be loved… See you all next time.

24

Some of my friends, co-workers, and even my assistant, are fans of the FOX series 24. Today, when I was searching for a head note to do my English homework, I found in CNN a brief editor note on the new season premiere. I was tired of reading about Haiti and decided to search for a new in the entertainment section of cnn.com.

I don’t like series. I’m not a good TV fan, neither a good follower. I don’t like this feeling of desperation to know what happens next in a TV show. I prefer to give my free time to letters, words and lyrics. However, I admire these 24 fans for their devotion to a mythical, fictional, and unbelievable character.

The need to believe in fantasy is common in a society like ours, where reality knocks our doors every other day. People need something to devote time to instead of work and responsibilities. People need to have fun, and of course, watching TV is one of the preferred activities for the Puertorican population.

I will love to accomplish in one month what this Jack Bauer does in 24 hours. However, I’m still a real mortal; I have to deal with time, love and tenderness. See you in my next entry.

My friend Roberto

Today I learned, by Facebook of course, that my friend Roberto is going to Haiti. Roberto is a physician and a man of big heart. Since we were kids Roberto always thought about the needy. Later he became a young man and decided to put into actions his thoughts. Strong values of love, life and beauty took him to the Dominican Republic when he was just 16 years old. He, like me and our friend Alba, took the decision to spend a whole summer doing missionary work in our neighbor island. Today, as a doctor, he is on his way to do a noble thing; to be a volunteer in Haiti.

He is a strong man, with a strong and lovely heart. He knows the value of life, he knows the value of people. This is not the first time I write about him. He is an example of faith, hard work and spirit. I’m very proud to be his friend.

Thank you Robert, for you work, your love and your passion. May the Lord keep you safe and healthy. God bless you, and keep doing what you do.

Haiti

I'm concerned with the earthquake outburst in Haiti. This small Caribbean country had been hit by misery, poverty, illness and this week with one of the worst earthquakes ever. My heart is saddened with this tragedy.

This whole situation made me think about the lack of mercy and human values in our beloved Puerto Rico. Our nation is suffering the virus of envy, pride and violence. Most puertoricans only think on their well being, on their own good and forget about giving a hand to the neighbors, to the coworkers, to the needy people on the sidewalks.

My invitation to you today is to make a prayer to our brothers and sisters in Haiti. May the lord be with them in this time of despair.

And to my Puerto Rico, may the lord forbid a tragedy like this to happen in our country. May God help us to conciliate our well being with the well being of our community and our society.