“Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate”

http://blendedfamilychaos.com/2014/03/24/the-wheelchair-princess-michelles-story/

Recently I blogged about taking things for granted. However, my blog focused on identity, and no so much on a physical level. Truth is, there are tons of things that we take for granted, simply because we let life and routine get in the way; we get too consumed by today’s hassle, that we forget to be grateful about the things that matter, which more often than not, are the things that neither money nor connections can buy, however, there are some exceptions..

It is through hardship that we learn people’s true colors, and most of  us will sulk and complain when “the road gets rocky”… But there are special people, whom regardless of what they are going through, can still manage to be kind and smile.. Today, I’d like to dedicate my blog to a special girl (whom I have never met), yet she is someone who’s story touched my heart, and made me be thankful for everything I have, she reminded me that a smile is always the best way to face life’s uncertainties… And for that, sweet girl, I thank you dearly and I will keep you and your family in my prayers.

Michelle is her name, and from what I read about her, she is a kind and sweet angel, with a warm smile on her face… Though her story has some scattered misfortunes, she still smiles… I personally cannot be of much help to this sweet girl, simply because I have no means of helping her (as I am still unemployed)… Alas, we have arrived to one of those exceptions to “money can’t buy happiness”. I urge my readers to click on the link and meet Michelle, know about her story, and hopefully you will be able to help her… Her only wish, is to walk.. I know for one, I have never thanked my legs for moving as I will, allowing me to walk, jump, run, and most importantly to move to the rhythms of songs that speak to me (as a Hispanic girl, dancing brings my cells to life).. I am not urging people to read upon her story simply to collect money, it goes much further than that… I am urging you to read because it is an opportunity to make a dream come true (or in her case, bring it back to her), I am urging you to read because, it will change you, and once again, you will be able to see that life (no matter the ups and downs) is truly beautiful, and though we all have our unique circumstances, we can all agree that after  a long day (of what ever it is we do) we keep breathing, we still have our health, we have our loved ones (even if they have parted the physical world), and so we can keep going (preferably, like Michelle, with a smile on our face), and that is something to be grateful for…

I now relay my good bye to you sweet Michelle, I send all the best energy your way, and may your family be able to give you back that which you have lost, so that your smile will be even brighter once more…

 

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What we take for granted

I often quite ponder, as ponderers tend to do, about seldom things, which is how ideas begin to form. Intricately and intrinsically, depending on each other to develop. Today however, I started thinking about identity. How often do we strive to feel as part of something unique and special, while still maintaining individuality? As a foreigner, most immigrants might be able to relate to this train of thought. We look to fit in, as well as to be recognized as a different entity, with a different origin, something that sets us apart.  We look for that blanket of comfort, behind which the familiarity of things brings us some remainder of that sacred place we came from; regardless of how corrupted, and difficult it was to live there. We yearn for that ease of speaking the native tongue, to which we will never feel (as long as the immigrant wasn’t a child when he/she arrived) a stranger to; the effortlessness of expressing oneself with richness, as oppose to being limited to rethinking and translating before communicating. However, is this something that we looked for back in our home land?

As far as I can remember, as a child back in Ecuador, that was hardly the case.  I have always managed to stand out (and to a certain extent, I still do, I have quite a peculiar taste), among the girls at my old  school I was “the odd one”, I didn’t like to brush my hair (truth be told, I’m still an “after sex hair” kind of girl) I had more guy friends than girl friends (girls seemed too drama-phile for me, and most of the time they are) I was, and still am, afraid of dolls (back then I preferred to play sports and with cars) and of course, I hated dresses, skirts, and any sparkly/girly looking attire.  For the latter one, I can honestly say, I have grown out of the “tomboyish” phase (somewhat at least), I do enjoy wearing skirts and dresses, however ridiculous I may feel, and every now and then, I try to take the time to accessorize (no make up, I think it is false advertisement).  I can remember feeling like the awkward turtle in more than one occasion, at birthday parties and school gatherings, and I didn’t know how to fit in, though I secretly didn’t want to.  Speaking a second language was more of a novelty than a necessity. Spanish, to me, was the only tongue I’d ever speak, I never imagined I’d speak three (and counting)…  Another thing I remember distinctly is the emphasis of pride of each region of the country.  Where being “Quiteño” (from the capital) was usually a big thing, since (as it does in many other countries I am sure) it meant coming from high-society and wealthy families. The feuds between the coast and the city was, and probably still is, colossal and somewhat dangerous. The diversity in dialects is another factor that back in our native country we often emphasized on, and it actually extends to the Spanish language in general…

However, once we find ourselves in this strange “melting pot”, all these puny differences don’t seem to matter. I am no longer a “Quiteña”, I am an “Ecuadorian”. I am no longer “Ecuadorian”, I am “Hispanic”. The community, in my opinion, has expanded so much that it gives you that warm feeling to find someone who speaks your tongue, who shares your customs (even if they do happen to be slightly altered), and similar food… But, why can’t this prideful feeling be pushed toward being human? Will it take a trip to a different world for us to finally rely on one another, and no longer be “Colombian”, “Russian”, “Egyptian”, “Canadian” or “Bengali” but simply “human beings”? When will the color of our skin, the tongue we speak, the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the religion we follow; become humble human traits that make us one, as oppose to racial and ethnic features that bring us apart.?

I need a catal…

I need a catalyst, I am floating around as an undefined molecular structure, where I am no longer a reagent, and yet I have not reached my final product…

It has been a month and two days since my last post. My fingers feel rigid, and unfamiliar with the key board… I keep pushing my hobby away, my excuse? My body happens to be taken over by an evil virus, and sadly it’s not the kind where the side effect is a sexy raspy voice. It’s the one that makes you sound like “Chewbacca” and makes you cough your lungs out, once can dream of developing a six pack after all the coughing.. sigh… Must keep priorities straight, must keep priorities straight, and figure out how to keep living this wonderful, and mysterious, sometimes inconvenient, blissful (and chaotic) life…