October 2007


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“When anger rises, think of the consequences.”
–Confucius (551 BC - 479 BC)

“Anger makes dull men witty, but it keeps them poor.”
–Elizabeth I (1533 - 1603), in Francis Bacon, Apophthegms, 1625

Anger…ahhhhh…hrrrrr…I am angry today. Angry at someone, but specifically mad at myself. Angry because I believe that one makes choices and one is ultimately responsible for the consequences. This belief is truly honorable but at the same time it leaves you with only one person to blame, and that is yourself.

I live in a free country, and I ultimately make my own choices. Why sometimes do I get into situations that later I might regret? I do not know. I think to a degree everyone does that. Sometimes I cannot see the future, only the today, and maybe that is why I do it.

The problem with anger is that it does not let you think rationally. It clouds the reality of the situation. It truly makes you react and not think. I have been accused of over thinking but when I am mad I don’t think. I just react. In this tunnel of self discovery that I have been riding for the past few months I have been striving to become a better person. This once I will not let my anger take over. I am breathing. Counting to 10. And meditating on possible solutions to my problem. Hopefully, at the end I grow some more and I learn a thing or two in the process. For now, it’s hard. I just want to scream in rage. But I know better now…than that…

“The principle of life is that life responds by corresponding; your life becomes the thing you have decided it shall be.”

–Raymond Charles Barker

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I am currently obsessed with this song by Timbaland of his new album Shock Value. Below you will find the lyrics…

Apologize

I’m holding on your rope,
Got me ten feet off the ground
And I’m hearing what you say but I just can’t make a sound
You tell me that you need me
Then you go and cut me down, but wait
You tell me that you’re sorry
Didn’t think I’d turn around, and say…

that it’s too late to apologize, it’s too late
I said it’s too late to apologize, it’s too late I’d take another chance, take a fall
Take a shot for you
And I need you like a heart needs a beat
But it’s nothing new - yeah

I loved you with the fire red-
Now it’s turning blue, and you say…
“Sorry” like the angel heaven let me think was you
But I’m afraid…

It’s too late to apologize, it’s too late
I said it’s too late to apologize, it’s too late whoaa ohhh…

It’s too late to apologize, it’s too late
I said it’s too late to apologize, it’s too late
I said it’s too late to apologize, yeah-
I said it’s too late to apologize, yeah-
I’m holding on your rope, got me ten feet… off the ground…

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Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong

Singapore Airlines flew the first commercial A380 flight today. If you take five minutes today and go to any news site, you see an article about it. I am not sure if it is a coincidence or just one of those funny occurrences of life but this past week I have been thinking a lot about my dad. My dad was a pilot his whole life. So pretty much from the time I was conceived I have been in and out of planes. I just think that if he could have flown on the A380 he would have loved it.

My dad died 2 years 8 months and 28 days ago. So many things happened at that time that I didn’t get to grieve properly. So this past year I have been able to start my grieving process. My relationship with him was unique in many ways. He was 51 years older than I was, so as you can imagine there were a few generational gaps we had to cope with. And there were many times that him and I did not see eye to eye. But beyond all of the arguments and my rebel teenage years, he taught me so much. He taught me about life and passion, and about goals. About how to be a better person everyday. About how one can make a difference, even if it is a small difference. About how to enjoy life. About cars and planes and how fun they could be. About speed and just recklessness and how they are acceptable from time to time. He forced me to have my first glass of wine when I was 4 years old. He also forced me to have my first scotch when I was 6 years old. He wanted me to grow up knowing, he did not want to deprive me of anything. So many times I did not understand his reactions or his actions, but now that I am getting a little wiser and older I have begun to understand.

He taught me about Jazz. Hmmmm…he introduced me to the Duke, Count Basie, Louis Armstrong, John Coltrane, Oscar Peterson, Miles Davis, Arturo Sandoval, Dizzy Guillespie among others. For hours all we would hear in my house will be Jazz. He taught me to appreciate and to love complicated melodies that will fill your soul. I remember I would sometimes get some of his CDs and play them and then he would join me. We would listen to Duke for hours. He will just listen and appreciate while I danced my way away. I wish I could take him to a concert now. I wish I could show him how much I appreciate his teachings.

I once read an article about Gwyneth Paltrow and she mentioned how important it was to go to Paris for the very first time with the one man who would always love you the most. Your father. I am happy that my dad took me to the city of love for the first time. It was such a special trip and Paris will never be the same without him there.

I just miss him. Today is rainy here in Rhode Island. The sky is overcast. And as I look outside my window, I know he is out there watching over me. Papi te extraño de verdad que si…I wish you were here still for me…

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I know I haven’t posted anything in a few days, but I have been a little busy…I am brainstorming…so hopefully that counts for something…

In the meantime I would leave you with this…

“Judge of a man by his questions rather than by his answers.”
–Voltaire (1694 - 177 8)

Lately I have been having a lot of questions…so by Voltaire’s standards I’m doing pretty well…which makes me feel a little bit better…in addition…

“The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.”
–Albert Einstein (1879 - 1955)

So…what are your questions???

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Hoy empieza la gira de Soda Stereo en Buenos Aires…

que envidia papa…a todos los lectores que quieran escribir sus anecdotas con Soda…dejeme saber…

a Soda…te quiero…y te voy a ver en Los Angeles!!!

Today I spotted this article in the New York Times about a language that comes from one of the Coastal Regions in Colombia. What I love about my country is that it is extremely diverse in terms of topology, climates, colors, food and even languages…so below I included the article…enjoy!!!!

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A dance troupe performed at an annual drum festival in San Basilio de Palenque, Colombia. The villagers speak what is thought to be the only Spanish-based Creole language in Latin America.

San Basilio de Palenque Journal
A Language, Not Quite Spanish, With African Echoes

SAN BASILIO DE PALENQUE, Colombia — The residents of this village, founded centuries ago by runaway slaves in the jungle of northern Colombia, eke out their survival from plots of manioc. Pigs wander through dirt roads. The occasional soldier on patrol peeks into houses made of straw, mud and cow dung.

On the surface it resembles any other impoverished Colombian village. But when adults here speak with one another, their language draws inspiration from as far away as the Congo River Basin in Africa. This peculiar speech has astonished linguists since they began studying it several decades ago.

The language is known up and down Colombia’s Caribbean coast as Palenquero and here simply as “lengua” — tongue. Theories about its origins vary, but one thing is certain: it survived for centuries in this small community, which is now struggling to keep it from perishing.

Today, fewer than half of the community’s 3,000 residents actively speak Palenquero, though many children and young adults can understand it and pronounce some phrases.

“Palenge a senda tielan ngombe ri nduse i betuaya,” Sebastián Salgado, 37, a teacher at the public school here, said before a classroom of teenage students on a recent Tuesday morning. (The sentence roughly translates as, “Palenque is the land of cattle, sweets and basic staples.”)

Palenquero is thought to be the only Spanish-based Creole language in Latin America. But its grammar is so different that Spanish speakers can understand almost nothing of it. Its closest relative may be Papiamento, spoken on the Caribbean islands of Aruba, Bonaire and Curaçao, which draws largely from Portuguese, Spanish and Dutch, linguists say. It is spoken only in this village and a handful of neighborhoods in cities where workers have migrated.

The survival of Palenquero points to the extraordinary resilience of San Basilio de Palenque, part of whose very name — Palenque — is the Spanish word for a fortified village of runaway slaves. Different from dozens of other palenques that were vanquished, this community has successfully fended off threats to its existence to this day.
Colonial references to its origins are scarce, but historians say that San Basilio de Palenque was probably settled sometime after revolts led by Benkos Biohó, a 17th-century African resistance leader who organized guerrilla attacks on the nearby port of Cartagena with fighters armed with stolen blunderbusses.

And while English-, French- and Dutch-based Creole languages are found in the Caribbean, the survival of one in the interior of Colombia has led some scholars to theorize that Palenquero may be the last remnant of a Spanish-based lingua franca once used widely by slaves throughout Latin America.

Palenquero was strongly influenced by the Kikongo language of Congo and Angola, and by Portuguese, the language of traders who brought African slaves to Cartagena in the 17th century. Kikongo-derived words like ngombe (cattle) and ngubá (peanut) remain in use here today.

Advocates for keeping Palenquero alive face an uphill struggle. The isolation that once shielded the language from the outside world has come to an end. Once three days by mule to the coast, the journey to Cartagena now takes two hours by bus on a bumpy dirt road.

Electricity arrived in the 1970s as a government gift in recognition of Antonio Cervantes, better known as Kid Pambelé, a Colombian world boxing titleholder who was born here. With electricity came radio and television. The schoolhouse, named in honor of Biohó, has an Internet connection now.

But Palenqueros, as the community’s residents call themselves, say the biggest threat to their language’s survival comes from direct contact with outsiders. Many here have had to venture to nearby banana plantations or cities for work, and then found themselves ostracized because of the way they spoke.

“We were subject to scorn because of our tongue,” said Concepción Hernández Navarro, 72, who survives by farming yams, peanuts and corn.
Only two of Ms. Hernández’s eight children live here; five are in Cartagena and one moved as far away as Caracas, drawn by Venezuela’s oil boom. “We have always been poor here,” she said in an interview in front of her modest house, “but our poverty has grown worse.”

If there is one blessing to this impoverishment, it may be that Colombia’s long internal war has largely been fought over spoils in other places, allowing teachers here to toil uninterrupted at reviving Palenquero since classes were introduced in the late 1980s.

Undaunted by the prospect of Palenquero’s disappearing after centuries of use, Rutsely Simarra Obeso, a linguist who was born here and lives in Cartagena, is compiling a lexicon. Others are assembling a dictionary of Palenquero to be used in the school.

The defenders of Palenquero view their struggle as a continuation of other battles. “Our ancestors survived capture in Africa, the passage by ship to Cartagena and were strong enough to escape and live on their own for centuries,” said Mr. Salgado, the schoolteacher.

“We are the strongest of the strongest,” he continued. “No matter what happens, our language will live on within us.”

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This post is not intended to offend any specific social class or race. It is intended to explain why the misconceptions of the different social classes or races cause problems.

I watched the movie Crash today for the first time. I am glad I watched it today. After living in Los Angeles, I understand it a lot better. I remember when I was living in LA and getting into numerous arguments with the ex-boyfriend about this. He simply did not get it. He lives in Santa Monica and pretty much didn’t get out of the Santa Monica-West wood-West LA area. If you stick to the nice areas, Los Angeles is heaven. But if you go to Inglewood, East LA, Korea Town or Compton it might be a different story.

The funny thing about LA is that you truly can find everything and anything there. It is a melting pot of races, social classes, climates—just everything. The richest of the rich and poorest of the poor live there. It is a crazy place.

When I got to Los Angeles, I felt a little bit out of place. I couldn’t quite find myself there. I felt a little lost. I didn’t know where I belonged. People were not as aggressive as in the East Coast about their work, but people were way more intense about their origin. It sort of went beyond me. Miami is a lot of things but pretty much is well mixed. LA has a lot of everything, but it is very segregated. The Mexicans with the Mexicans, the blacks with the blacks, the whites on the hills with the whites, the Persians with the Persians. Even the prostitutes have a place…usually along Hollywood Boulevard. I honestly have to say I chose to live in Hermosa Beach because it was predominantly white. I was scared. I was scared of getting caught in the cross fire of a city I didn’t know. Plus, I was alone. So I chose to live in the whitest neighborhood that I could find that was still sort of close to my work.

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My view from my house in Hermosa Beach, CA

Now, about my work. It was in the great city of Carson. Hmmm…it’s not totally ghetto, but let’s just say it is not the richest area either. In my work, I had to deal with a lot of different personalities. Mexicans, Salvadorians, Blacks, Whites, Persians and everything in between that. It was eye opening. The thing that caught my attention was how everyone was so caught up in defending their origin or their social status. When I was watching Crash, it reminded me of all that. How intertwined everyone really lived, yet everyone was segregated into their own areas. The only people that dared to cross the border were the bums in Santa Monica.

But in all of this identifying “la raza”, don’t people forget to be people? I mean does it really matter where you come from that much that you need to go ahead and fight with your fellow man about a difference in skin color? In the grand scheme of life does it really matter?

I will be the first to admit. I find it extremely offensive to be called a “Mexican” (I am Colombian). Not because I hate Mexicans, not at all. I actually really like them and I have some great friends from Mexico. It is because of the negative connation the word has. In my mind, it sort of equates to toilet cleaner. And not because I placed Mexicans in that category, it is because that is what I have heard other races say about Mexicans. Did you know that the third richest man in the world is Mexican? Carlos Slim Helu is self made and is a communications genius. His net worth is estimated to be $49 billion. Only Bill Gates and Warren Buffet are ahead of him. So what about them Mexicans???

I will never forget, once I was in a flight to Salt Lake City and the man sitting next to me thought I was a toilet cleaner. When I told him I was a Chemical Engineering major from Georgia Tech he almost had a coronary. He couldn’t believe it. He was shocked beyond belief!!!

The point is that categorizing a whole entire race on the basis of a perceived conception is wrong. Not all Colombians are drug dealers. Not all Arabs are terrorists (and by the way a Parsi is not an Arab). Like not all white people are judgmental Anglo Saxons that think of everyone else as less of them. So, why hate? Why spend time hating a person you do not know because they are different? Don’t people have something better to do with their time?

In a way I feel the great city of angels is full of little devils trying to make it more like hell than heaven. But I have faith in the great city. I have faith that tomorrow will be a better day. And that at least one person will hate less. Be a little more compassionate. Because all differences and hate aside, it is truly a heavenly place.

(Note: Don Cheadle asked his “latina (Puerto Rican/Salvadorian not Mexican) girlfriend why all “Latin=Mexicans” park their cars in the front lawn? Well, a simple explanation is that we all like to hang out together (family matters in Latin America) and in our houses in Latin America we have huge garages where we could fit many cars. Since houses here in the US don’t have this amenity, we try to be POLITE and not block the entire street so we park on our front lawns)

(Another aside: The movie ended with a song by Stereophonics (they are from Wales) called “Maybe Tomorrow”…I love this song…below are the lyrics..)

“Maybe Tomorrow”

I’ve been down and
I’m wondering why
These little black clouds
Keep walking around
With me
With me

It wastes time
And I’d rather be high
Think I’ll walk me outside
And buy a rainbow smile
But be free
They’re all free

So maybe tomorrow
I’ll find my way home
So maybe tomorrow
I’ll find my way home

I look around at a beautiful life
Been the upperside of down
Been the inside of out
But we breathe
We breathe

I wanna breeze and an open mind
I wanna swim in the ocean
Wanna take my time for me
All me

So maybe tomorrow
I’ll find my way home
So maybe tomorrow
I’ll find my way home

So maybe tomorrow
I’ll find my way home
So maybe tomorrow
I’ll find my way home

So maybe tomorrow
I’ll find my way home
So maybe tomorrow
I’ll find my way home

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(Picture courtesy of the Economist)

On the cover of the Economist this week there is an interesting article regarding the widening gap between social classes (more precisely between industrialized and peasant China). The article goes on to argue about what will happen to these peasants that are being left behind and the current trends and possible outcomes in the future. But truly, this is not a new thing. This article has been written many times, not specifically about China, about every country really. All countries are facing this dilemma. Even here in the United States we see how the gap is widening.

So, what to do??? I think is has to do with responsibility. Stop the get-quick-rich mentality. In this day is all about instant gratification. I get mad because I go to the gym and in one hour I can’t get rid of all the fat. Come on!!! Sometimes is worth waiting for something. Sometimes thinking about the future, or a few months down the road is worth the investment.

In this case, you have to think about the future in years. Because what we do today WILL have an effect 20 years from now. Has anyone wondered about how colleges in this country are getting astronomically expensive? Has anyone stop to think what effect will this have on the lower and middle classes??? Well, I can tell you that more kids will not go to college because simply they cannot afford it. It’s hard to get college loans for 70-80k and then get paid 30k a year after you graduate. So what effects will this have??? A widening gap.

As I am reading the China article on the Economist, on the side bar there is an advertisement by Peterson Global Associates that states the following “the world is open for business. It’s up to you to manage it.” Hmmmm…interesting. I think beyond instant gratification, developing economies, high ROI, and above normal GDPs, all societies should stop for a second and think about their grandchildren. See what their world will be like. Use the tools that we have handy today to make a better tomorrow. Invest in the young population, whether they are peasants or sons of magistrates they are all worth investing in. Think that if you invest in this human capital, your country will benefit from it. Who cares if it is China or the US or Russia, at the end borders are beginning to fade. The more we educate the world, the fewer problems between East vs. West we will have. In today’s day it doesn’t matter where you come from because ultimately we are all humans. We just need to work together. And ultimately, this will render a higher ROI than ever imagined.

I know…sometimes I am an idealist…if you are interested in the article…read below…

The party congress in China

China, beware
Oct 11th 2007
From The Economist print edition

The country’s rulers care too much for their own welfare, and too little about the rural peasants

BASKING in its 2008 Olympic glow, no longer shy at counting itself among the world’s greats and blessed with a still booming economy, China looks the coming power. And so it is, up to a point. Yet as the Communist Party’s bigwigs assemble behind closed doors in Beijing for their five-yearly congress, it is China’s frailties, not its strengths, that preoccupy them.

Not for the first time, Hu Jintao, the party’s boss and China’s president, rightly picks out two big problems: the widening gap between China’s mostly urban rich and its mostly rural poor, and the party’s lack of “internal democracy”—comrade-speak for accountability and the courage to question and debate. In other words, neither China’s Communist Party nor its village dwellers are keeping up as the rest of China changes fast. None of the 1.3 billion ordinary Chinese gets a vote in the party’s secretive conclaves. But among more than 700m left-behind peasants, frustrations are building.

As in any fast-developing economy, for all its successes China’s breakneck growth masks a multitude of problems, from rampant corruption and devastating pollution to a frail banking system and the lack of independent courts to uphold the rule of law. Meanwhile, three decades of “get rich quick” advice from party central have left the country divided between a richer coast and still impoverished interior, between upwardly mobile city dwellers and stagnating rural communities. These days, the income disparity between China’s richest few and poorest many (peasants, migrant workers, pensioners) would make many a modern capitalist blush.

From communism to carpet-baggers

Mr Hu has tried to accommodate some demands for change. Most recently, a law was passed that for the first time enshrines private property rights—a huge ideological leap for a party with its origins a long march back in Mao’s communes. But like much else in China, these new rights will benefit mostly city-dwellers; a growing urban middle class will now be able to buy and sell their homes or businesses. In the countryside, where peasants are able only to lease their land, not own it (and not even use it as collateral for loans), the new law will do nothing to rectify the landgrabs orchestrated by venal local officials, who turf people off the land so as to do lucrative deals with carpet-bagging developers.
In this and other ways, the reforms that Deng Xiaoping first launched in China’s countryside 30 years ago have now left its peasants in the ditch. But village dwellers have not only seen their city compatriots get richer quicker; increasingly, their own concerns have also been neglected.

Since 1989, when disgruntled workers joined student democracy protesters and it all ended in bloodshed on Beijing’s Tiananmen Square, a ruling party fearful of any further challenge to its power has paid better heed to the grievances of China’s urban masses. Urbanites have won greater freedom to spend their rising incomes as they wish, while much ballyhooed experiments in greater village democracy have gone nowhere. With access to the internet and mobile phones, China’s middle classes can organise themselves to oppose, say, the siting of an unwanted chemicals factory and thus draw government attention. Despite many thousands of village protests each year against corrupt officials, poor medical services and bad schools, China’s peasants—more dispersed, less organised and therefore more easily ignored or suppressed—can usually do little but seethe.

Mr Hu bemoans China’s widening inequalities, but has so far done little to bridge them. In fact there is much that could improve the peasants’ lot. Growth at any cost has led to a tax system that unduly favours the wealthy regions that generate their income through industry. Central government could adjust that. It could help further by shouldering a much bigger share of the costs of basic health care and education in the rural areas. Of the five tiers of government, a couple could be stripped away and not be missed. Indeed, thinning the ranks of idle cadres with their fingers in the coffers would ease the financial burden on China’s hard-pressed villagers.

Shooting for trouble

Are such reforms too extensive and costly for a still developing country such as China? No longer. Four years ago, China put its first man in space (only the third country to do so, after Russia and America), at what true cost the government will not say. Now it is aiming for the moon, at a cost of many more billions: its first (unmanned) moon-shot is expected to take place soon. Like the Olympics, China’s space programme is an expensive publicity stunt, designed to encourage nationalist fervour in a population—and a party—long since bored with the maxims of Marx, Lenin and Mao.

Another way in which Mr Hu and his comrades could help the peasants would be to divert some of the double-digit annual increases in defence spending to help the estimated 40% of China’s villages that have no access to running water. The trouble is that China’s military build-up has become the measure of the party’s commitment to another nationalist cause that it has stoked in an effort to bolster its tattered credentials: the eventual recovery, by persuasive hook or military crook, of the island of Taiwan, which China claims as its own.

So far the combination of this appeal to nationalism and the pursuit of economic growth at almost any price has helped the party maintain its grip. But just as China’s periodic shrill threats to Taiwan threaten the stability of the wider region, so the plight and growing anger of China’s peasantry are a harbinger of potential trouble ahead at home.

It is trouble that China’s Communist Party is increasingly ill-prepared to deal with. For all Mr Hu’s rhetoric about greater internal democracy, the party is too fearful for its own survival to open itself up to a genuine clash of ideas. Although a few brave voices have called for that, there has been no open debate in the run-up to the congress about how to address any of China’s pressing rural problems. To add to their burdens, China’s peasants are saddled with a ruling party that is too worried about its own survival to spend more than a little lip-service on theirs.

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One of the racers down the track

Well, on Saturday Red Bull sponsored a Soap Box Race in Providence, RI.

For all the ones that do not know what a Soap Box Race is—well, in a nutshell, it is a bunch of lunatics who design their own soap box car (decorated and manufactured from scratch) perform a skit before the race and then go down a hill and try not to crash into the hay at the finish line. For a better explanation go to the website.

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It was entertaining. Several of the teams had some interesting ideas. We obviously saw a Red Sox soap box, a RI chicken and some others. There was tons of food, people, kids, doggies and what else but Red Bull. It was a fun time.

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The track

So, if a soap box derby goes by your town, I would recommend you gather a few of your friends and a great sense of humor. Get there early and pick a spot and enjoy…well…utter stupidity at its greatest!!!

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