Phoebe

I have the best dog in the world.

Yes I know everyone says that about their dogs, but I assure you that mine is the coolest.

She protects my front door and runs to my rescue every time she thinks I need help.

She does not allow other dogs who act aggressive get close to me.  I don’t know if it’s her bark that scares them away or her determination to defend my honor, but she is certainly very convincing.

Her body is all muscle and she is the sturdiest dog I have ever seen.

Her name is Phoebe.  She is a 5 pound Toy Fox Terrier.

You see, when I got her she was just a little puppy and the people who I got her from insisted that she was a Rat Terrier, who was going to be at least 15 pounds.  I always wanted a big or a medium size dog, because when I was growing up my family only had cats, so I wanted a “bigger” pat of my own and preferably a dog, since they are a bit more interactive.

This is my first dog.  She is two years old now and still the same 5 pounds as when she was just a pup.

At first I was a bit disappointed that this was a toy breed and not the dog I expected, but I quickly learned that size in fact does not matter.

In that 5 pounds I have a loyal friend, who not only enjoys watching TV with me, but also enthusiastically cheers when I play video games, not to mention she cuddles just like a cat.

I share my home with her and she has shared with me her heart of a lion and her wisdom of an oracle.

So in honor of my best friend, Phoebe, I pledge to never again judge the book by its cover.

Viva Our Home

I live in the middle class neighborhood in Las Vegas, NV.  Our neighborhood is only 4 years old, yet it looks much older.  There has been numerous and numerous foreclosures and those who are still here are fighting to survive.  People gave up on the curb appeal of their homes and neighborhood in general, that has never been finished by the developer to begin with. 

The rest of Vegas is in the same condition.

Government threatens to cut education and police funding, high rises are standing empty and unfinished and every other property is foreclosed on.

Our city is in big trouble.  It is in trouble because we stopped caring.

Yes, the economy has everything to do with its downfall, but ask yourself how much you personally have done for your community.

Some people are leaving back to the states they came from because of unemployment after living in Las Vegas for over ten years.

It was different once.  About a decade ago our real estate was booming, new schools, parks and libraries were opening, and half of California insisted on moving here.

So what now?  Leave our city and our community when it’s in trouble?

The times are hard, but if we give up and leave, this community doesn’t stand a chance.

Today I answered the call on the ad on the radio asking Las Vegas residents to call our local government and ask them not to cut the education and the police finding of Las Vegas.  So if you hear this same or other ad’s regarding our city, please respond.

I have lived here since 1999 and I am not going anywhere.  This is my home. 

This is your home.

Carpe Diem

This morning I watched on National Geographic what would happen to our world if we ran out of oil.

Then right after that the National Geographic channel ran a program on what would happen to our world if our population doubled in size.

A few nights before that I watched a program on the Apocalypse that we should expect when December 21^st, 2012 comes.

All three programs showed the end of the world as we know it.  Horrifying disasters were shown through very graphic depictions of our cities like Los Angeles, New York, Las Vegas, and Chicago that were crumbling after each new disaster hit the world.

Why are we doing this to ourselves?!

Half of my family and co-workers are already paranoid as it is about 2012, why is media adding more?!

This morning when another one of my co-workers brought up the 2012, I couldn’t help it anymore and yelled, ‘That’s it, people!  I’ve had it with this crap!”

I got up on the top of my desk and began speaking to the crowd of my startled co-workers almost as if I was a revolutionary persuading everyone to join a strike.

“Listen to me!” I said, “Everything is what you make it.”  End of the world or not, tomorrow you can get hit by a bus and none of this would matter.  Your children are neglected because of your long hours at work, your spouses are sick and tired of hearing what a stressful craft you got, so who cares about the end of the World!  Live now!”

They all looked at me puzzled and within only a few seconds they went back to their conversations, including 2012.

I jumped off my desk and set down disappointed on my chair.

After a few minutes our cleaning lady, Maricela, who speaks about 5 words of English and taught me all of the Spanish words I know, came up to my desk to empty my trash can.

When she was done, she winked at me and whispered, “Carpe Diem…”

How Can This Be?!

I just saw online today, that every single year, thousands and thousands of women, children and believe or not, men, fall into the hands of traffickers, in their own countries and abroad and are never seen or heard from again by their families and loved ones.

How can this be?  How can human beings be sold and traded in the 21^st century, in the century of iPods and iPads and 3D TVs?  I don't understand.

I am reaching out to all of you tonight, please educate yourself about this horror. 

Victims are chosen from poor neighborhoods or broken homes and broken families. 

I am in shock.  I have heard of this before, this so called "Modern Day Slavery," but did you know that not millions, but billions of dollars are being made every year at the expense of people who are being basically kidnapped and trafficked around the world.  Young kids, who should be at school or playing outside with their friends are used for hard labor and sold for sex.  Young women and girls forced into prostitution or marriage or used for domestic labor, 7 days a week, at least 15 hours a day with no pay.  And aslo men, they are broken down by poverty and left to die on plantations and factories and sweat shops.

Do not be fooled, my fellow bloggers, by the fact that you may not know anyone personally affected by this crime, or see it on the local news or read about it in our local newspapers, EVERY country in the world, without exception, is affected by human trafficking.  In the U.S., human trafficking has been reported in all 50 states, including Washington D.C., and some U.S. territories.

One Russian writer, by the name Fyedor Dostoyevskiy, once said, "People speak sometimes about the "bestial" cruelty of men, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be as cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel."

I just want to cry...

Glue - A Poem Dedicated to Gay Youth

I wish I had some crazy glue

So I could glue myself to you

So I could have a good excuse

The one this world could not refuse

To be with you and hold your hand

To have the right for me to stand

Next to the one I need and love

Next to the one I put above

Traditions and annoying rules

Made by the narrow-minded fools…

I wish I had some crazy glue

So I could glue myself to you…

Home Alone

I was a having a great day off.  Just a lazy day.

My cell phone rang and it was my friend’s seven-year-old son.

“Hi,” he whispered in the phone.

“Hey buddy, what’s up?”  I replied.

He began softly crying and sniffling.

“I am home alone.  And I am hungry.”

“Home alone?”  I exclaimed.

I rushed to his rescue.

Picked him up and took him to dinner.

He begged me to bring him back home by 9PM, because that’s when his mother calls him to check on him.

I couldn’t let myself leave him there for the rest of the night, especially after I found out that she leaves him like this every other day.

He told me how scared he was every night to be alone in their big house, but he said he understands that they need the money and his mom has to work.

How does a seven-year-old know this or even understand this?!

Every night he is alone I now have him call me and I come over and stay with him right up until his mother gets home. 

I leave about 15 minutes before she gets home.  I sit outside in my car like a stalker and make sure that she actually gets there.

When I can’t, I have my friends help out.

I hate this economy.  And I hate what did to the most vulnerable part of our population, - children…

Target on My Back

I work for a huge corporation.

So huge, it uses the word “Worldwide” and “International” in its many names.

On the outside it is all smiles and happy workers.

We volunteer to save the poor and we also are “green”, just a one happy bunch.

Sadly, when you look inside, it is like a broken mirror.  It is almost surreal how much is hidden behind the closed doors.

Racism, homophobia, nothing but a good ol’ boys club, sexual harassment, bullying, you name it’s all here.

It is covered up so artfully by the higher-up’s, that as a new-hire you would never guess that once you enter their world, you would be hit with all of the bigotry and prejudice that has ever existed at once.

It makes me wonder if all of the corporations are like that.

Every day I wake up, get dressed for work, and wonder what it is that I will be faced with today.

Finally one morning I got my way in.  “They” were sitting around and gossiping about two of our co-workers who are a biracial couple. 

When I walked in, they didn’t get quite, they kept on talking, inviting me to join them.

I gave them a long and silent stare.

This could be the end of my own awkwardness here.  No harm, just a little bit of gossiping.

“No!” my mind screamed.

I looked at them again and said, “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

They froze in silence.

I turned around and walked away, feeling a huge target growing on my back with every step I took.

And it felt damn good!

Chernobyl

This year on April 26th it was a 25th Anniversary of the tragedy that occurred in Pripyat, Ukraine on the nuclear plant called Chernobyl...

Today I want to tell you a short story from my own experience from that time, in order to my respect to the victims of the explosion.

I was seven years old.  It was end of May.

I walk up, got myself dressed, had some milk and run downstairs to play with my friends.

My parents were busy discussing something I couldn't understand or could care less about in the kitchen and did not seem slip away from our tiny one bedroom apartment in Kiev, Ukraine.

I ran down the stairs and outside.

However there was not one kid on the street.

It's May 25th and there was not one kid on the street.  No adults either.  Just a beautiful sunny day… with no people.

Although it seemed strange at that time I was excited to have a sandbox all to myself.

I began building a castle.

It was coming along beautifully.

Within only a few minutes both of my parents ran out to the street where I was playing and dragged me by my arms out of the sandbox.

I began crying and weeping, "What's wrong?"

My parents were silent.

They placed all of my clothing on the bed and quickly began packing them away into my dad's old military backpack.

Something was very wrong.

I could feel.  I was only seven, but I could sense their worry.

The backpack ended up being bigger than me.

But my parents didn't seem to notice that I could barely move it.

We walked downstairs.

A cab pulled up.

We drove to the airport.

Before we even got to the entrance, we were turned down and told to turn around.

A young policewoman leaned over to my mom’s side of the car window, and whispered, “Try the train stations, I am sure they will find space for your little one…”

They exchanged a almost a sisterly look, and my mom ordered the cab to go to the train station.

First train station was in chaos and the cab wasn’t able to get through.

“Let’s try the other one!” my dad yelled.

We drove again for about an hour across the city to reach the last hope my parents had for evacuating me from the city that was slowly filling up with deadly radiation.

A young woman took my hand and walked me through the train full of children to my bed.

I ran to the window to find my parents in the crowd.

“There they are!”

They didn’t seem happier or relieved…

Enjoy the Silence

I found this small broom closet / storage room at my work with an amazing insulation.
When you enter it, silence wraps around you like a cloud and all you can hear is a beating of your heart.
I have discovered it a few weeks ago and visit it every day a week at least for a few minutes.
When was the last time you heard your heart speak to you?!
"Boom- boom, boom-boom."
Then the chaos of my thoughts swirls up to the sealing as if it was a tornado.
"Pay bills!  Pick up Aden from school!  Don't forget to buy milk!"
Except they are not threatening like in the real world.  They feel as if they aren't even mine.

The silence of that room slowly dissolves them into nothing...


I told about the storage room to some of my co-workers...  Some looked at me like I was crazy, others couldn't wait to experience what I have.  One of them is a single mom with three young kids.
After the first time in the room she came out and said, "I always thought that I would never hear silence again..."
So enjoy the silence when you can.  It can be quite profound...

Regret

Last week, my best friend drove under the influence of alcohol and hit a pedestrian…

I knocked on her door about a dozen times.  Finally she unlocked the door and a cloud of cigarette smoke came out from her living room outside…

She hasn’t showered for days, just chain smoked non-stop with a blank look in her eyes.

Guilt is a weird thing.

People are afraid to get their hearts broken or lose their jobs, but nothing is as devastating as regret.

Not hers.

Mine.

I dodged her phone calls for weeks.  I’m busy with school.  I’m busy with work.   She asked for my time a million times, but I didn’t have it.

Her heart was broken.  Her husband of ten years recently left her and got engaged to another woman days after their divorce was final.  I couldn’t take it.  After all I have a life.

Joni Mitchell taught us all that “you don’t know what you got ‘till it’s gone.”  I know now what she meant.

Half of my best friend was sitting on floor covered in the blanket and a cigarette in her mouth. 

It wasn’t the same person I knew and loved.  The last of joy was leaving her body, replaced by reality.

We set in silence for hours holding hands.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!” my mind and my heart were screaming in pain…

I am here…