All posts filed under: Moments

Poetry and thoughts on life

todaynottomorrow

What’s so special about tomorrow, when today’s already here? [video]

Chances are that right now, at this very moment you have something in mind that you want to do; something you want to accomplish in your life. But you’re busy or not ready, or whatever today’s excuse is, and so, you are deciding that tomorrow will be the day, because there are all these tomorrows to choose from in that future you envision in your head. I’m not ready to be in or get out of a  relationship, I’ll do it in some tomorrow. I’m not ready to leave my job, I’ll do it in some tomorrow. I’m not ready to start anew, I’ll do it some tomorrow. I’m not ready to (insert your dream here), I’ll do it some tomorrow. Have you thought about what’s special about tomorrow? Will tomorrow bring magical courage or discipline that, for whatever reason, you don’t possess today? Think about it, since today was yesterday’s tomorrow, why isn’t today special? If you don’t know the answers and/or think that somehow, tomorrow will be different, then I recommend that you …

libby

Dreams of a familiar stranger

When I close my eyes to dream I don’t recognize the woman I see. Her long hair flows softly with the breeze, as she stands barefoot on the beach. Not a bikini-clad, sun goddess but a free-spirited bohemian princess. Her crooked, gap-toothed smile lights up her face as she warmly greets passersby. Not with a simple hello, but a sincere, “How are you today?” Her golden brown eyes reflect the light of the sun, as though the depth of her mind did not exist. Not a reflection of no cares in the world, but freedom from the prison of her thoughts. Her round hips sway as she strolls, as if she’s dancing to a private song. Not quite a salsa, not quite a samba, but a rhythm all her own. She is a familiar stranger that I’d like to know; she is the me, I want to be.

human

Becoming human [guest post]

The fifth in the “Defining Moments: Search for Identity Series.” This one comes to us from writer, Hector Luis Alamo, Jr. Read more of his personal blog, On the Contrary and follow him on Twitter, @HectorLuisAlamo As a mixed-race, mixed-nationality, second-generation Latino American, my identity has been in constant flux for much of my young life.Born in Humboldt Park, and surrounded by my dad’s side of the family, who seemed to end every other word with “-ao,” I was sure I was 100-percent boricua — albeit, a dark one with a lot of indigenous blood coursing through my capillaries. My grandfather Ines, whom everyone called “Papi Two,” was a short, bald old man whose dark skin made him look like a coffee bean wearing a golf cap and a white mustache. My grandmother, Doña Ana, whom everyone naturally called “Mami Two,” was an equally diminutive old white lady with red hair that made her look like a much aged Lucille Ball. Now, here’s where things started to get confusing for me. When I was younger, I thought Papi Two was …

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The dance lesson [guest post]

The fourth in the “Defining Moments: Search for Identity Series.” This one comes to us from educator and writer, Cindy Tovar. Read more of her personal blog, Hispanecdotes and follow her on Facebook and Twitter, @Dagny32 The music is blasting, the lights are dim, and I’m in my element. My eyes search the crowd, looking for someone who can show me a good time. I look for the right signs: a man moving his hips rhythmically, a man whose eyes are searching the crowd with the same urgency as mine, or if I’m really desperate, at least a man who is taller than I am. I find one standing alone across the bar, and move quickly. Wouldn’t want him to find someone else. Not for this song. I smile and stretch out my hand. “Do you want to dance?” I ask, not worried about rejection. I’ve only been turned down once. (That jerk!) But I wasn’t always so bold on the dance floor. Oh, I’d always loved to dance, but I was about eleven years old when I realized that “dancing in …

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The only gay boy in the world [guest post]

The third in the “Defining Moments: Search for Identity Series.” This one comes to us from artist and writer, Xeno Martinez. Read more of his personal blog, SQ Chronicles and follow him on Facebook and Twitter, @XenoMartinez Recently, I engaged in a conversation via the I Love It Supersized Facebook fanpage about when was it that I first realized that I was gay, and confessed that I had always known since I was a little boy.  In all honesty, I was one of those children that sexually experimented at a very young age. It is commonly known that children experiment as a means of understanding their own sexuality, and that those experiences are ones that, regardless of how young the child maybe, they never forget it.  Although it is semi-embarrassing and shameful to admit this, I vividly remember being under the age of 5 years old and hiding behind my grandmother’s bed, in her one bedroom apartment, and performing oral sex on my cousin, who was only a year older than me.  How we both knew what to do is beyond …