Mariposa Pensativa

Being at Peace

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Fri, 25 Jul 2008 15:53:00 +0000

My mind has been constantly thinking about writing something on my blog. I read a particular news article and consider its blogworthiness--often resolving to write about it as soon as I get home. However, my train of thought gets derailed, and I once again leave my blog outdated. As such, I will write about myself.

Recently, I have had some losses in my life. They have been difficult, but I am not destroyed. A year ago, these losses would have devastated me, and I realized that I am much healthier emotionally than I have ever been. It is not all my doing. I have the support group that I lacked before. I have friends. I have acquaintances. I have routine.

So with this post, I will say thank you to the friends who have made me this less fragile woman. I send my love, gratitude, warmth, and extend my support whenever you shall need it.

The Future of Robotics

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Thu, 29 May 2008 16:49:00 +0000

Ever since I picked up my first Isaac Asimov novel, I have been fascinated with robotics and what they could mean to the future of humanity. (Wikipedia.com has a very concise description of the field and its evolution) What always struck me in my pursual of this topic was that robots were always slated to be of service to man. For example, the Robot Institute of America defines a robot as a programmable, multi-functional manipulator designed to move material, parts, tools, or specialized devices, through variable programmed motions, for the performance of a variety of tasks. Like Asimov, I thought they could be so much more -- human.

When I started my education in the computer science field, my ultimate goal was to become an artificial intelligence/robotics engineer. The ethical dilemmas and concerns presented by Asimov in his novels, particularly in his Law of Robotics, heightened the interest and enthusiasm I felt when following the advancement of robotics. My interest was sparked all over again when I read an article about a robot created by Steve Yohanan to study touch and how touch is important in communication. Read the article here. The robot creature looks like an eyeless and mouthless rabbit and seems harmless enough. Depending on how this creature is touched, it can interpret your feelings and generate its own responses to how it is being touched – all recorded in sensors. Yohanan hopes that in the future, robotic pets will be created that then later allow someone else to feel what you were feeling when you were petting it.

“Yohanan imagines that the creature might lead to the development of a robotic pet that could connect couples who don't see each other often. For example, a wife who works different hours than her husband could convey her mood through touch to the creature, and the husband would sense that mood through the robot when he came home.”

The implications of this type of research are profound. While not specifically addressed in the article, when you couple a robot – a piece of technology, that can interpret how it feels through touch and convey its feelings through touch, with a robot that can move, talk, and process data at fast speeds, what you get is a sentient being – a being capable of feelings and emotions and intelligence. Additionally, the type of interpretations being performed by this robot will not be confined to touch much longer. It will develop into vocalizations. This is all beyond a robot emulating a human or performing a pre-coded set of facial expressions/parrot conversations; it is beyond a tool that can answer phones and direct calls—it is almost human, and IT IS EXCITING! (See some really neat human-like robots here.)

The ethicists should be swarming over this development. The self-aware robot is no longer a matter of future possibilities. The ability for intelligence and feelings to merge into one robot is fast approached and nothing will be able to stop it. [A discussion between top robotics engineers, ethicists, and artists about the ethics of robotics is discussed on The Tech Museum of Innovation’s website.]

The question that burns in my mind is whether a robot will be content to be of service to man if it is more intelligent, is self-aware, and capable of forming its own opinions and feelings.

(I have no doubt People for the Ethical Treatment of Robots will be forming during this century.)

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Thu, 08 May 2008 23:25:00 +0000

These photos were from a trip I took to San Francisco in November 2007.

It was a lovely place to be.

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

May I Have This Dance - Entry for April 6, 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Sun, 06 Apr 2008 08:12:00 +0000

we two-step across the floor
in unpracticed synchronicity
traveling into a strange land
arms moving up even stranger torsos
madly wild kisses strewn on the face
of today's love
as we dance to the victory of youth
we care not about bills and mortgages
like our aging parents
or about time-clocks and whistles
urging the tired to their starting marks
or for others
the sagging walk home
we are at the cusp of those things
and the stench of it is close enough
to make us recoil
but not enough to scare us
out of each other's arms

Beginning Again

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 23:35:00 +0000

On blogger again.

Waking Up

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Mon, 17 Mar 2008 02:51:00 +0000

She lay in her bed waiting. Her long hair artfully splayed across the pillow - dark curls ringletting themselves in upturned hands. Each shallow breath seemed a shout in the quiet of the house; each shift of her legs like a siren. Still she waited patiently as the dark bedroom changed shifts and the shadows gave their coveted nooks and crannies to the light. She heard her mother's bedroom door opening and listened as her delicate feet padded to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and lunch for her step father. The low murmurs wafted to the room- carried by the scent of chorizo and eggs.

When the back door closed and her stepfather's car was heard leaving, her heart raced. Her legs and feet quivered in anticipation. Such joy filled her heart. Her mother entered her bedroom and awoke everyone for school. But still the girl did not move. Her brother and little sister groggily went to get their clothes and use the restroom.

Her mother was game today.

"Voy hacer las camas."

Barely containing a giggle, she waited for her mother's next move. Suddenly, the blankets were thrown to the floor, and the sheet was pulled off as well.

With a practiced snap, the sheet was unfurled over the bed. As soft as the cool air that preceded the sheet, the girl imagined that it was her mother's love that was embalming her. The sheet slowly made contact with her body and she finally let her self smile. The blanket quickly followed.

"Ya levántate."

The girl knew she had to get ready for school. She carefully pulled herself out of the bed and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek.

"Gracias, mamá."

Update on this Stranger Called Vanessa - Entry for March 14, 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Fri, 14 Mar 2008 16:00:00 +0000

The New Place and Job
I have been living a completely different life since I moved. The stress level that I felt before the move has all but evaporated. I no longer have the 3-4 hour daily commute, and I get home with plenty of time to help with homework, play with, eat dinner with, and bathe my boys. My furniture has been put in storage. That was a bittersweet moment because I worked so hard to buy it. My commute is actually 12-30 minutes now.

My new employer and colleagues are great! I feel so appreciated here and have a lot to offer their office. They want me to redesign the website, the internal site, and to implement new procedures to streamline their projects. As the Project Coordinator, I set the pace in how projects get processed. It’s an exciting feeling.

Aunt
My aunt has facilitated my new move greatly. She cares for me and for my children as though we were her children. I have never felt so cared for in my life. I fear displeasing her and making her not love me anymore – the reaction of a child. In many ways, she has shown me more consideration and affection than my own mother.

I wish I could do more to make her life easier. She has taken on the task of caring for my sons after they get out of school, and is also the nurse of my grandmother. I try to make sure my boys get out of both their way, but my aunt says they are a break from caring for her mother.

Grandmother
My grandmother has had a problem with her blood pressure for 2 years now and was diagnosed 2 days ago with Stage 3 kidney disease, bordering on Stage 4. Her condition has depressed and demoralized her because she used to be so active. She was part of the Red Hat Society, and they would go to various events, take trips to different parts of the world, and march in parades.
Being around my grandmother has been good despite her illness. She has seen so much in this world and is so accomplished. She was a nurse in WWII, then a nurse in doctors’ offices and hospitals, eventually becoming the head nurse of her hospital. When she was 60-something, she got her Master’s degree in hospital administration. She’s traveled to every continent except Antarctica. It is fascinating to talk with her.

Niece
My younger sister had a baby girl, Milagros (which means miracles) on Monday at 3:00 pm (15:00). She weighed 7lbs, 9oz. My sister is in New York City, so I hope I can take a trip there in the near future to see my new niece. Very exciting stuff.

Sons
My younger boy has begun reading! He has always been a bit behind the other children his age, but he has started taking an interest in reading. I am so very proud of him. I have been giving him spelling tests at home, and twice he has gotten 9/10 correct. WOW! This new school/teacher has given him so much confidence. They believe he can do more than what he was doing before just as I believed it. I just never had the time to show him more. Now I do! We do homework together every night, and he writes, reads, and sight reads many words.

My older son, the one who thinks he is 20 years old, has plunged himself in Neopets, a website where you create virtual pets. I limit his time on this game website because I know of certain individuals who immerse themselves at the detriment to all else. He loves it and I believe it has unlocked his creativity. He wrote a story about a 3-foot butterfly that became the protector of all the butterflies. He battled an eagle, then a whole eagle army. I am so proud of both of them.

Those are all the updates for now.

Keep on Trucking -- Entry for February 12, 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 16:38:00 +0000

As some of you know, I am making another move in my life. I have taken a job in Orange County and will be starting there on February 25th. It was not a decision I made lightly, but one that had to be made so that I could have more time with my sons. Commuting 3-4 hours every day was difficult on them and myself.

I have been making a lot of moves in the last year, but I think that my life is finally getting on the track that I want it to be. There are times that I despair and think that I made the wrong choices; that I would have been happier if I was still in Bakersfield, in my own home, and doing the things I used to before. I would right now be working on the newsletters that had to get out this month, and I would be working on the website. In one hour, I would be going out to lunch with either Ed, Hector, Clare, Nina, or Nancy, and I would be driving home at 5 to pick up my older son from school, and the little one from his babysitter.

But then I think about the past 7 months, and I realize that my life has never been so full. I have seen and done so many things that would have been unimaginable a year ago. I visited the East Coast, I had a boyfriend for a brief while, I saw my first opera, I met two online friends, I have gone to parties and clubs with family, I reconnected and connected with family members that I did not know I had. The list can get more detailed, but the fact is, since I moved to the Los Angeles area, I have felt more alive.

I have also felt like a better mother. My sons and I have gone to the park more and have gotten out of the house and visited with family members. They know that their family net is a large and far-reaching one. I have taught my older son how to play chess, and he can now navigate around the computer and internet like a pro. My younger son has been put into an educational program that has helped him grow and I feel more confident that I can advocate for him.*smiles*

Everyone Needs to Eat -- Entry for January 29, 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Tue, 29 Jan 2008 16:31:00 +0000

My siblings and I grew up in relative poverty. We often moved with our parents to various migrant camps and housing so they could pick whatever vegetable or fruit was ready for harvesting. We lived in places that had outhouses and no indoor plumbing, and others that were miles from the nearest city. It would be easy for me to romanticize this period of my life, but it was not romantic. It was hard. We finally stopped moving when I was in 3rd grade.

Despite our limited means, we rarely knew hunger. My mother is a very resourceful woman. While we were migrants, we had the fields of vegetables to eat,and when we lived in rural places like the northern border of Washington state, my stepfather would hunt for live game. When we settled down in Santa Maria, CA, my mother changed tactics. When we did not have enough money to buy groceries, we would wake up before dawn to search for cans. I can remember those mornings and her starting up the Ford Ranchero so clearly. There is a different feeling to a house before dawn. We would pile into the truck and hit all the major dumpsters in our neighborhood and beyond. To the Lucky's Supermarket (now a discount mall), to the empty lot behind Wimpy's Liquor and across the street from Taco Bell, to the dumpsters near my classmate Theresa V.'s house. Sometimes my mother would stand in the dumpster and throw cans out to us that we would crush and toss in the back of the truck, other times we would all root around in the trash to find them.

My feelings about the enterprise were always mixed and volatile. I hated doing it. I was so afraid that someone I knew would see us and thus plunge my already absimal schoolyard status even lower. I would not only be the stuttering, loner, nerd, but the stuttering, loner, nerd who digs through other peoples' trash. But I was also proud of my mother. We would fill the back of the truck and get $30 to 40 dollars for our efforts -- enough to buy staples like rice, beans, and flour to make tortillas. We always had full dinners.

So when I read this article about the poor in Haiti, I remembered my mother, digging for cans, and growing up poor. There was no comparison. The very poor in Haiti eat a mud cookie made of dirt, salt and vegetable shortening. So many eat these "cookies" 3 times a day. I have never been this poor. My children will never be this poor. I want to help so bad. I wish I could send my food over there to help the girl Charlene in the article. They cannot go and collect cans like we did.

Please visit this The Hunger Site and click on the Big "CLICK TO GIVE" icon, or the link following my blog. Sponsors of the site donate the equivalent of 1 cup of food for each click. Add it to your favorites and when you are bored, sit there clicking for a few minutes. It will help so many people. If you want some alarming statistics on how much food is wasted in North America and Europe, visit stopthehunger.com, with the references included.

Homelessness in America - Entry for January 23, 2008

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 16:23:00 +0000

Homelessness is a social problem that needs to be fixed -- not only to help the homeless individuals and families involved, but to reduce the strain they pose to our cities and charity providers. Although there are several reasons why people become homeless and stay that way, it is up to society to take action and reduce the numbers of homeless people in America and enable people to get rehabilitated so that they do not become homeless again. Currently, a large part of the homeless problem is that people are not aware that there is a homeless problem and so do nothing to help or stop homelessness. They assume that homeless people are homeless because they do not care about getting a job and solving their problems, and many times, this is not the case. Without society being aware of the homeless problem, they will not be able to influence those in politics and in local governments to enact change.

What is Homelessness?
Most people think that homeless people are bums and panhandlers. Wikipedia defines homelessness as a situation in which a person does not have a long term place of ongoing residence, usually in cities or suburbs. Homeless people are demeaned in the media, ridiculed, and often the victims of hate crimes. But the truth of the matter is that homeless people aren’t just bums and panhandlers that sit on park benches or city streets, wear filthy clothing, or living in boxes, they are also people forced to live in their cars, with family members, in tents and makeshift camps, and in shelters.[1] In the United States, it is estimated that 41% of the homeless are single men, 40% are families, 14% are single women, and 5% are youth.

Why Do People Become Homeless?
People become homeless for several reasons. In Helping America’s homeless: Emergency shelter or affordable housing?, most authorities on the subject of homelessness say that poverty is the proximate cause of homelessness, the second are that wages aren’t keeping up with the cost of living. Other problems are the lack of health care and supportive services (mental health/substance abuse); inadequate shelter systems (lack of beds and permanent addresses); prison release and homelessness; veterans and homelessness; youth homelessness; and violence (spousal abuse, physical and sexual abuse at home).

Twenty-two percent of homeless people have mental problems that have not been diagnosed. They should be in institutions, and in fact, many were but were subsequently released because of lack of psychiatric facilities and beds.

Why Do People Stay Homeless?
The reasons people stay homeless are very similar to the reason why they become homeless: when they look for help, it is not there. There are estimated to be 3.5 million homeless people in the United States. With that quantity of people looking for help, most cities do not have enough resources to house the homeless people they have. For those who cannot find shelter and their needs are unmet, they are often criminalized for not finding a place to sleep or sleeping on city streets or public land. In many cities, homelessness is actually a crime.[2]

According to Homeless.org, when homeless people try to find jobs, they have a hard time because they do not have phone numbers and other contact information. Sometimes their work history is lacking, and they might not have references. The children of homeless people often have a hard time staying in school because they do not have a stable living environment, they are hungry, they get sick because they do not get the proper medical treatment, and some children cannot get into school at all because they do not meet residency requirements.

How Can We Fix the Homeless Problem?
Unfortunately, there are no easy solutions but there are preventative measures. A solution would be to raise the national minimum wage and regional minimum wages to help the poor who are on the verge of becoming homeless afford housing. According to the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, there is not a single jurisdiction in the country where a person working full-time earning the prevailing minimum wage can afford a two-bedroom rental apartment. If people cannot support themselves, even with the lowest jobs, then they will not be able to rise out of or prevent homelessness. Another solution is to provide private donor, federal or state subsidized low-income housing, or at least provide a tax incentive for developers to include at least 25% low-income housing in their projects. Most shelters cannot meet the needs of the homeless people, so there has to be a way to allow other public lands to be used to house the homeless on a temporary basis and within a certain time period. But most cities do not want to be the one that allows homeless people to live where they want. In those cities, they can open public halls and fair grounds for the night, with adequate restroom facilities.

In Pasadena, the Pasadena Police Department and the LA Department of Health have partnered to form the Homeless Outreach Psychiatric Evaluation Team. The program created three teams of mental health and law enforcement officials to provide compassionate assistance to persons in need of mental health assessment and services.

Cities around the country have started realizing that you have to understand why someone is homeless before you can change it. Individually, do not ignore what your eyes can see. Homeless people are not invisible. Volunteer to serve them food. Pass out blankets. Change will start when we are aware of the problem and push for action.

References

Burt, Martha R., Laudan Y. Aron, and Edgar Lee. “Helping America’s homeless: Emergency shelter or affordable housing?” Washington, D.C.: The Urban Institute. 2001

Guzicki, Melissa, Manuel Manrique, Carolyn J. Tompsett, Paul A. Toro, and Jigna Zatakia. "Homelessness in the United States: Assessing Changes in Prevalence and Public Opinion, 1993-2001" American Journal of Community Psychology: Springer Netherlands, March 2006, p.47-61.
Homeless.org. http://www.homeless.org/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homelessness

“Homelessness – Causes and Facts,” Chicago Coalition For The Homeless: Chicago, 2006

Hubbird, John. “What Homeless Problem,” Dignity Virtual Village: http://www.outofthedoorways.org/articles/eugene.html, 2002.

“Hate, Violence, and Death on Main Street USA: A Report on Hate Crimes And Violence Against People Experiencing Homelessness, 2005.” National Coalition for the Homeless: http://www.nationalhomeless.org/civilrights/index.html

“A Dream Denied: The Criminalization of Homelessness in U.S. Cities” National Coalition for the Homeless: http://www.nationalhomeless.org/civilrights/index.html

[1] According to a U.S. Conference of Mayors the homeless population is diverse: 20% work; 22% are mentally disabled; 11% are veterans; and 34% are drug or alcohol dependent. (Homeless.org)
[2] The National Coalition for the Homeless’ report, “A Dream Denied: The Criminalization of Homelessness in U.S. Cities,” they cite that this trend includes measures that target homeless persons by making it illegal to perform life-sustaining activities in public. These measures prohibit activities such as sleeping/camping, eating, sitting, and begging in public spaces, usually including criminal penalties for violation of these laws.

New Year's Gift - My Hair - Entry for December 26, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Wed, 26 Dec 2007 20:54:00 +0000

I donated my hair to Locks of Love, an organization that collects donations of hair to make wigs for children who have cancer and other diseases who have lost their hair.

Locks of Love is a public non-profit organization that provides hairpieces to financially disadvantaged children under age 18 suffering from long-term medical hair loss from any diagnosis. We meet a unique need for children by using donated hair to create the highest quality hair prosthetics. Most of the children helped by Locks of Love have lost their hair due to a medical condition called alopecia areata, which has no known cause or cure. The prostheses we provide help to restore their self-esteem and their confidence, enabling them to face the world and their peers.

I have thought about donating my hair for a while now. It had grown so long that I was starting to sit upon it (an annoying thing). In truth, my hair was a major vanity of mine. Strangers (usually women) would come up to me and say how beautiful it was. I liked that. But the need to change it, to cut it, became very strong. I would drive by a hair salon, wanting to go in, but not having the courage to do so. If I was going to cut my hair, I wanted it to have meaning. Perhaps that is a bit presumptuous of me, but I wanted it to matter. Here I had all this hair, and there were children out there who were losing theres. Locks of Love was the perfect solution.

It feels strange to have short hair. I did not want it quite so short, but oh well. It makes my head feel light.

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I have not written in so long. I have so much to say. Perhaps I will have some more blogs by the end of this week.

Self-Realizations - Entry for December 01, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Sat, 01 Dec 2007 21:07:00 +0000

I am needy
I am not high maintenance
I am loving
I am not spiteful
I am empathetic
I am not clingy
I am smart
I am not arrogant
I am high strung
I am not crazy
I am soft-spoken
I am not a push-over
I am shy
I am not quiet
I am sad
I am not depressed
I am giggly
I am not high
I am beautiful
I am not a beauty
I am overweight
I am not a monster
I am angry
I am not violent
I am overwrought
I am not overworked
I am strong
I am not invincible
I am stressed
I am not giving up

I am Vanessa
I am not what you want me to be

Complacency, Idealism, Politics, and Change - Entry for November 25, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 17:58:00 +0000

To the world, Americans are ignorant when it comes to world affairs. I get this impression from conversations with friends from other countries and from news outlets outside this country. World news should not be a ten minute segment that follows talk of another celebrity getting arrested for a DUI. In truth, the news covers pop culture and disaster more than they do social unrest and conflict - abroad and at home. At the core of this disconnect is the American educational system and the political machine. We are not taught in school the current events of other countries, the history behind these events, the country's socioeconomic and political status, and how they impact the global community. At best, we get a cursory instruction on the ancient world, and then if we wish to learn more, we can take courses at the university level.

From where does American complacency and ignorance of the world stem? How can it be changed? The problem with finding out where the this ignorance comes from lies in ignorance itself. People do not question what they think is fine. The old addage (or cliché if you will) applies: "If it's not broke, don't fix it." This ignorance does not only apply to world knowledge but knowledge about the various social and economic problems we have this country. To give an example: AnyCity, USA codifies the removal/arrest of homeless people from public property. The inhabitants of this city stop seeing the homeless people where they once did. What happens then: there is no outrage at their living conditions; there is no sense of shame at seeing them shiver in the cold or begging for food; and the people go about their daily life. If we sweep away the homeless and make them disappear, does this stop homelessness? NO! Analogously, if we do not see what is happening in the world, it does not mean it is not happening and that there will be no impact in our lives. Out of sight should not mean out of mind.

If we are taught about the world when we are children - not in some propogandist nationalistic bent, but in an objective study of how different countries operate and their political, social, linguistic and cultural structures- then we can truly operate as knowledgeable citizens of this country and the world. With this instruction, we will grow up intellectually invested in the world; we will understand outside views of Americans as a people and nation; we will not be so arrogant when we talk about our fledging country because we will understand that many of the countries of this world have been around for millennia; we will learn other languages to be competitive on the global stage; and we will then understand the world's horror at the military campaigns the United States has spearheaded up to this point. More importantly, we will be able to respond to the world's criticisms of our actions with ACTION.

Actions. In the short history of our country, we have been kept in the dark about many of government's actions. In 1966, the Freedom of Information Act was enacted to allow more accecss to government agency information, but I do not think it did anything with regards to transparency - or our country's complete openness about its actions and why they are doing them. We are giving pretty stories about helping our neighbors and liberating countries from oppression, but we are not told the truth as to how we gain from helping. But if Americans do not know how or why they should access this information, they do not do it.

If we do not demand more information, we will not receive it. We are complicit in our country's decisions because of our complacency and ignorance. So this is my idealized solution: knowledge. We need knowledge from the ground up. We need transparency. We need honesty. We need history. We need education. We need to change the very core of our country to ensure its longevity. And once we receive this knowledge and transparency and honesty and history and education, we need to do something about it. We need to demand that our politicians work on what is important to us. We need to vote and keep voting till the majority of this country - the working class man and woman - has their voice heard in a thunderous roar. We are not stupid, America...we are kept in the dark with a blindfold and earplugs. The lights needs to be turned on and the blindfolds lifted. Open those ears to what our world is telling us.

So for a purely selfish reason, I was confronted with the realization that while I have many opinions on what I read about in the news, and I am more informed than most Americans with regards to world events and politics, I have not thought about exactly where I stand in terms of American policy, politics, and the world. The politics of this country are like a choreographed dance, and I haven't the steps. They are mired in money and cronyism.

360 Worlds - Entry for November 19, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 14:11:00 +0000

I started clicking on the 360s on the pages of my friends. People i did not know. Soon, I was in a sphere of chat friends that was foreign. They had testimonials, references to the same events, and it kept going farther and farther away from the chat world that most of us have here. I have 360 friends from 3 places, and some of those friends overlap for a lot of us. I have seen friends I had in Books and Literature many years ago on the pages of the friends I created in Professors Chat in the past year or so. I also have friends from the Classical Music room, and some that I developed through 360 itself.

It is very strange to contemplate the spheres of friends that are going on all over Yahoo and other social networking sites. They exist and are chatting and are messaging each other.

Of course, I knew this was happening. There are so many other rooms in Yahoo chat and groups and so many other Yahoo communities that it would be foolish to think otherwise. But to actually venture into those realms and read their familiarity felt a bit . . . .uncomfortable. So many beautiful words, poetry, people, pictures . . . lives.

Mariposa Pensativa - Entry for November 14, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 17:22:00 +0000

The phrase Mariposa Pensativa itself means Pensive Butterfly. I use the term butterfly not because I like to flit around but because my name, Vanessa, means butterfly in Ancient Greek, and more commonly known as a genus in the butterfly kingdom. The actual etymology of the name is disputed. The website Behind the Name says that the author Jonathan Swift invented the name Vanessa by rearranging the initial syllables of the first name and surname of Esther Vanhomrigh, his close friend. But the name Vanessa could be derived from Phanessa, a feminine form of Orphic Phanes (which, by the by, is also a genus of butterflies), a primeval, golden-winged hermaphroditic god, meaning "appear." Yet some naming sites say that Phanessa is the ancient greek goddess of brotherhood. *shrugs shoulders*

When I was 9, my best friend Marcia gifted me a phone book with my name on the cover and a stamp of my name. The cover of this book said my name meant butterfly and this is what I have always believed. I remember thinking that I loved that it meant butterfly. I felt like one day I would stop being an ugly caterpillar and be a beautiful person one day. Before that day, I always felt awkward having the name Vanessa. It is not exactly a "Mexican" name.

My mother said that she would have named me Helen, but that during her pregnancy there was a Spanish telenovela that had a protagonist by the name Vanessa. I did some research, and the Mexican soap was called "Vanessa" and aired in 1982. The role was played by Lucía Leticia Méndez Pérez.

Mendez continues the streak of success with Vanessa (1982). Suspenseful endings will play a part of the pull audiences have of her stories, Vanessa is no exception to the rule. Not only does she paralyze Mexico with her endings, but the whole world turns to watch her endings. With Vanessa, she becomes the first star to be killed in a nationalized television production. The world would be shocked as the movie transcends borders. She goes on to sing the theme song that will sought after fans, that will never be compiled on her albums. The production team decides not to cut it because it may detract from her fame has pop singer, where some critics may say that it used that track has a pull for cd buyers.

Since then, I have grown to appreciate my name.

I did some digging into the photograph that I have so willingly put into my Yahoo 360. It is José Domingo Noriega's "Ladina disfrazada de mariposa." s.f...."Ladino woman in butterfly costume." n.d. It was most likely taken sometime during the 1890's through the 1930's. It is part of a collection of glass plates of photographs taken by Noriega and other Guatemalan photographers that are being rescued by CIRMA, the Center for Mesoamerican Research, a non-profit foundation founded in 1978 and based in Antigua, Guatemala.

The three photographers - Yas, Noriega, and Zanotti - produced arguably the most extensive photographs on culture and ethnicity in Guatemala in the late 19 th and early 20th centuries. Their images document the evolving nature of interethnic relations in Guatemala, the emerging syncretism and dialogue between native cultures and Western culture, and the broad cultural change provoked by the expansion of the coffee industry as of the late 19th century. At a time when virtually all other photographers focused on the metropolitan elite in the nation's capital, these three revealed the rapidly changing cultures in the interior of the country.

In Guatemala, ladino refers to non-indigenous Guatemalans or mestizos...a mix of Spanish and Native American.

I hope that this new blog lives a lot longer than my last one. I am backing up my posts on multiply.com and in text files. What I miss the most about my aphrodites_shell blog are the comments that everyone wrote.

Thank you for adding this Mariposa Pensativa to your 360s. I hope to learn a lot more about all of you.

*hugs*

In 1995 - Entry for November 14, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Wed, 14 Nov 2007 15:00:00 +0000

I was sitting on the corner, looking across the street ....Nov. 14, 1995

Writing About Writing - Entry for November 12, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Mon, 12 Nov 2007 22:15:00 +0000

As the minutes tick off in a day, there is a constant dialogue in my brain; a narrator and judge that constantly screens my actions and thoughts. The desire to blog about these thoughts surfaces every once in a while, but it sinks down again and the thoughts are forgotten or stored in the rolodex that fits neatly inside my cortices. A major fear is that if I sat down to write, I might not get up for a few days.

While at the San Francisco airport, awaiting my flight home, I began to write about my stay. Within one hour, I had about 3-4 pages of words-- too much for a blog post. Writing was much easier when I had a physical journal. I would write in my journal, draw pictures of things I would see. I was guileless and pretentious enough as a child to think that some future scientist would find my journal and actually gain insight into the world I was living in. The world is too large for that now. So many people are writing down their observations that many of those words will get lost in the oblivion of time. So as it stands, my trip to San Francisco will be remembered in great detail, just not on my 360.

It's okay.

Writing about writing. I seem to do that a lot. *laughs* Perhaps there is enough material in there to write a book one day.

Waters of San Francisco - Entry for November 09, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 18:57:00 +0000

My recent trip to San Francisco was life-changing. I went touristing around the City by the Bay, walked to the Golden Gate Bridge, took a cable car, visited Chinatown and Golden Gate Park, went to the opera, and just marveled at the sights and smells of the City. I was composing a long blog about my experiences, but I feel I must wait a bit because that beautiful bay I walked along was marred when a container ship was damaged in the bay and dumped 58,000 gallons of bunker fuel into its water.

There were so many birds there. So many diving birds, pelicans and seagulls. There was a moment when they all took flight and I captured the moment...the Golden Gate Bridged displayed prominently in the background. Those poor birds will now have to fight to survive, including the sea lions of Pier 39, the fish and other sea life.

I sincerely hope that this ecological disaster is responded to promptly or the Bay that I saw just scant days ago will accessible to those who live by the bay and jog along its paths, and those that visit the bay will not get to see it as I did.

A Few Bad Apples - Entry for November 08, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Thu, 08 Nov 2007 17:45:00 +0000

Being in a chat room exposes one to many people. The majority of chatters congregate in the same room because they share like interests and enjoy the same topics of conversation. I like to believe that most of us go there to relax, share stimulating ideas, share music, talk on voice chat, and yes, to laugh and share the minutiae of one's day.

I am a veteran chatter. I say this because I have been chatting since I was 16. I have made good friends with the people I converse with. These friendships sometimes extend into my day-to-day existence via phone calls, text messages, and the rare meeting. In fact, one of the first posts I ever wrote on Yahoo 360 (with my now dead aphrodites_shell 360 account) focused on the fact that I considered the friends I made in chat to be just as valid as the friendships I held with people I can see every day. In retrospect, I did not have true friends until I started working, so my chat friends were my only friends for a long time.

Yet, there are those who come into a chat room to harass, wreak havoc, and cause discomfort to the chatters. It is a form of entertainment for them. I have never understood this type of person. They are not interested in creating friendships or sharing ideas. Their sole entertainment in a chat room is calling people bad names, interrupting conversations, and spreading lies and rumors. They are equivalent to school-yard bullies.

Yesterday, I got upset in Professors' Chat. For the past few weeks, there is a chatter who delights in calling me silly, stupid, and a bitch. He also makes comments about my divorce, that he feels sorry for my ex-husband who must have left me because I was a bad wife. He started these insults because he felt that I talked too much about my children. I talk about my children because they are a vital part of my life, but it is not all I talk about, and frankly, many chatters mention their children. This chatter does not insult the other parents, so I feel like he is picking me out for this treatment for no reason.

The people that know me well understand that he doesn't know what he is talking about, but for some reason, it galls me. His comments make me upset, defensive, and angry. Yesterday, I was so upset, I resorted to petty retorts about him being a bad husband for spending so much time chatting.

The truth of the matter is, I do care about what my friends think about me. I care that they respect me, and I in turn respect those who are worthy of it. I am a good person. While I am also an imperfect person, I treat people with kindness and will help anyone who needs it and if it is within my power to help. I was a faithful wife and a good wife. I tried very hard to make my marriage work. I am a good mother and adore my children. I try hard to be a good friend. I am not always successful. So when this chatter insults me, there is a fear that someone will believe him.

I realize it is not healthy to get upset over this person. I have ignored him, and will continue to ignore him in the future. I just wish people like him would find something more fulfilling in their life to do than to make others unhappy.

Helping + Knowledge = Satisfaction - Entry for November 06, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 18:40:00 +0000

My aunt mentioned a few days ago that my cousin needed help with her algebra. She is a very bright, thirteen year-old, who normally gets A's in her classes. Algebra has been the only class she has had trouble with. Last night, my aunt arrived around 9pm with my cousin to receive help with her math.

Sitting with my cousin and explaining to her not only to reach the solution but how to apply it to other problems was really satisfying. There were several moments where I could literally see her eyes light up with understanding. This experience brought back memories of being a tutor.

When I was in high school, I was a tutor for a program called AVID. AVID stands for Advancement Via Individual Determination. I was trained in tutoring my peers in mathematics and English. The satisfaction I received from tutoring almost steered me into the teaching/professing field. I had actually wanted to be a teacher throughout elementary school and junior high. It was only my fascination with computers that led me down the computer science track.

The tutoring went well, so my aunt said that she would be bringing my cousin back on a more regular basis. I look forward to it.

SKEDJOOL - Entry for November 05, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Tue, 06 Nov 2007 03:49:00 +0000

The American pronunciation of schedule.

Words - Part II - Entry for November 04, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Sun, 04 Nov 2007 08:12:00 +0000

The Chaos
by G. Nolst Trenité, a.k.a. Charivarius
1870 - 1946

Dearest creature in creation
Studying English pronunciation,

I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse and worse

I will keep you, Susy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy.

Tear in eye your dress you'll tear,
So shall I! Oh, hear my prayer,

Pray, console your loving poet,
Make my coat look new, dear, sew it!

Just compare heart, beard and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word,

Sword and sward, retain and Britain.
(Mind the latter, how it's written).

Made has not the sound of bade,
Say said, pay-paid, laid, but plaid.

Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as vague and ague,

But be careful how you speak,
Say break, steak, but bleak and streak.

Previous, precious, fuchsia, via,
Pipe, snipe, recipe and choir,

Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, shoe, poem, toe.

Hear me say, devoid of trickery:
Daughter, laughter and Terpsichore,

Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles.
Exiles, similes, reviles.

Wholly, holly, signal, signing.
Thames, examining, combining

Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war, and far.

From "desire": desirable--admirable from "admire."
Lumber, plumber, bier, but brier.

Chatham, brougham, renown, but known.
Knowledge, done, but gone and tone,

One, anemone. Balmoral.
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel,

Gertrude, German, wind, and mind.
Scene, Melpomene, mankind,

Tortoise, turquoise, chamois-leather,
Reading, reading, heathen, heather.

This phonetic labyrinth
Gives moss, gross, brook, brooch, ninth, plinth.

Billet does not end like ballet;
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet;

Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.

Banquet is not nearly parquet,
Which is said to rime with "darky."

Viscous, Viscount, load, and broad.
Toward, to forward, to reward.

And your pronunciation's O.K.,
When you say correctly: croquet.

Rounded, wounded, grieve, and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive, and live,

Liberty, library, heave, and heaven,
Rachel, ache, moustache, eleven,

We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed, but vowed.

Mark the difference, moreover,
Between mover, plover, Dover,

Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police, and lice.

Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label,

Petal, penal, and canal,
Wait, surmise, plait, promise, pal.

Suit, suite, ruin, circuit, conduit,
Rime with "shirk it" and "beyond it."

But it is not hard to tell,
Why it's pall, mall, but Pall Mall.

Muscle, muscular, gaol, iron,
Timber, climber, bullion, lion,

Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, and chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor,

Ivy, privy, famous, clamour
And enamour rime with hammer.

Pussy, hussy, and possess,
Desert, but dessert, address.

Golf, wolf, countenance, lieutenants.
Hoist, in lieu of flags, left pennants.

River, rival, tomb, bomb, comb,
Doll and roll and some and home.

Stranger does not rime with anger.
Neither does devour with clangour.

Soul, but foul and gaunt but aunt.
Font, front, won't, want, grand, and grant.

Shoes, goes, does. Now first say: finger.
And then: singer, ginger, linger,

Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, age.

Query does not rime with very,
Nor does fury sound like bury.

Dost, lost, post; and doth, cloth, loth;
Job, Job; blossom, bosom, oath.

Though the difference seems little,
We say actual, but victual.

Seat, sweat; chaste, caste.; Leigh, eight, height;
Put, nut; granite, and unite.

Reefer does not rime with deafer,
Feoffer does, and zephyr, heifer.

Dull, bull, Geoffrey, George, ate, late,
Hint, pint, Senate, but sedate.

Scenic, Arabic, Pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific,

Tour, but our and succour, four,
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.

Sea, idea, guinea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria,

Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean,
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion with battalion.

Sally with ally, yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, key, quay.

Say aver, but ever, fever.
Neither, leisure, skein, receiver.

Never guess--it is not safe:
We say calves, valves, half, but Ralph.

Heron, granary, canary,
Crevice and device, and eyrie,

Face but preface, but efface,
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.

Large, but target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, out, joust, and scour, but scourging,

Ear but earn, and wear and bear
Do not rime with here, but ere.

Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew, Stephen,

Monkey, donkey, clerk, and jerk,
Asp, grasp, wasp, and cork and work.

Pronunciation--think of psyche--!
Is a paling, stout and spikey,

Won't it make you lose your wits,
Writing "groats" and saying "grits"?

It's a dark abyss or tunnel,
Strewn with stones, like rowlock, gunwale,

Islington and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict, and indict!

Don't you think so, reader, rather,
Saying lather, bather, father?

Finally: which rimes with "enough"
Though, through, plough, cough, hough, or tough?

Hiccough has the sound of "cup."
My advice is--give it up!

Words - Part I - Entry for November 04, 2007

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Sun, 04 Nov 2007 08:02:00 +0000

[sitting in my hotel room overlooking the alive Geary & Polk intersection, watching a love-scene on a movie for which I don't know the name]

words have so much power..
the way we pronounce them..
the way our lips move as the syllables fight for existence . . .
the impact they have upon delivery..
words are life

A Flying Cat - Entry for November 13, 2006

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Tue, 14 Nov 2006 00:02:00 +0000

Another amazing video I will not click on is flashing before my eyes as I write this post to my blog.

I had an eventful and tiring day. Totally blushed out a few times at work. [this means that I was embarrased to the point where my cheeks became flushed and red -- oddly enough, I actually felt one of them creeping up my face today]

I am the consummate people pleaser. If I created something new or pretty, I want to show someone.

As Lisa Simpson once said, "Grade me! Look at me...evaluate and rank me! Oh, I'm good, good, good, and oh so smart! Grade me!"

That's how I feel sometimes. I don't do it to be pretentious or make other people look bad. I love being the best at something [everything]. I know that I should not be like that because when I do fail, I take it personally. Then I try even harder till I am stressed and sad. Maybe that is why I stayed in my relationship so long with my ex-husband. I kept trying and trying even when it was killing me inside.

All the while, sometimes I just long for someone to hold me and caress me. My girlfriend *N* used to come up to me at work and play with my hair. If I were a cat, I would have purred. I need stuff like that, and it's not happening. Even my kids don't want to cuddle much. They are so boyish. They would rather be Ninja Turtles and kick at each other *sigh*

But aside from all THAT, I feel rested and wonderful for the most part. My throat still has a resident by the name of Bert the Frog. He doesn't leave. I will have to get some Vick's Throat Spray or something.

All in all, a very boring post.

The Girl Sitting Inside Me - Entry for November 12, 2006

noreply@blogger.com (Mariposa Pensativa) — Sun, 12 Nov 2006 18:15:00 +0000

Everyone perceives me to be this light funny person. There are times when I am talking with a friend or laughing in a chat room and I can't recognize the person I am. I am quick to make laugh, giggle and blush, and in truth, I want to be that way. I love being happy and feeling alive. But inside of me there is a sad girl watching the events and constantly judging me. I wonder if she is who I am suppposed to be, and the laughing, smiling girl is the one I pretend to be.

Sometimes, she is so vivid that I can see her. And this sad girl is always watching. She sees everything that I do. Sometimes, when I imagine her, she is wearing the little party dresses my mother used to make me go to school in. Her knees are tightly pressed together, and her hair is pulled very tightly into a ponytail. She is the girl who never smiles. She is the one who had the horrible child hood, horrible siblings, and the bad stories to tell.

When I am alone with my thoughts, she is who I become. She has written most of my journals. I hope one day the two with melt together. Perhaps it happens with age.