My grandfather used to recite this poem to me when I was little. He used to say “Marianita” instead of “Margarita” when he remembered my name. He passed away this weekend. I will never forget you. 

Margarita, está linda la mar, 
y el viento 
lleva esencia sutil de azahar; 
yo siento 
en el alma una alondra cantar; 
tu acento. 
Margarita, te voy a contar 
un cuento. 

“Éste era un rey que tenía 
un palacio de diamantes, 
una tienda hecha del día 
y un rebaño de elefantes. 

Un quiosco de malaquita, 
un gran manto de tisú, 
y una gentil princesita, tan bonita, 
Margarita, tal bonita como tú. 
Una tarde la princesa 
vio una estrella aparecer; 
la princesa era traviesa 
y la quiso ir a coger. 

La quería para hacerla 
decorar un prendedor, 
con un verso y una perla, 
una pluma y una flor. 

A princesas primorosas 
se parecen mucho a ti 
cortan lirios, cortan rosas, 
cortan astros. Son así. 

Pues se fue la niña bella, 
bajo el cielo y sobre El mar, 
a cortar la blanca estrella 
que la hacía suspirar 

Y siguió camino arriba, 
por la luna y más allá, 
mas lo malo es que ella iba 
sin permisio del papá. 

Cuando estuvo ya de vuelta 
de los parques del Señor, 
se miraba toda envuelta 
en un dulce resplandor. 

Y el rey dijo: “Qué te has hecho? 
Te he buscado y no te hallé; 
y que tienes en el pecho, 
que encendido se te ve?” 

La princesa no mentía. 
Y asi, dijo la verdad: 
“Fui a cortar la estrella mía 
a la azul inmensidad”. 


Y el rey clama: “No te he dicho 
que el azul no hay que tocar? 
Qué locura! Qué capricho! 
El Señor se va a enojar”. 

Y dice ella: “No hubo intento; 
yo me fui no sé por qué. 
Por las olas y en el viento 
fui a la estrella y la corté”.

Y el papa dice enojado: 
“Un castigo has de tener: 
vuelve al cielo, y lo robado 
vas ahora a devolver”. 

La princesa se entristece 
por su dulce flor de luz, 
cuando entonces aparece 
sonriendo el buen Jesús. 

Y asi dice: “En mis campiñas 
esa rosa le ofrecí; 
son mis flores de las niñas 
que al sonar piensan en mí”. 

Viste el rey ropas brillantes, 
y luego hace desfilar 
cuatrocientos elefantes 
a la orilla de la mar. 

La princesa está bella, 
pues ya tiene el prendedor 
en que lucen, con la estrella, 
verso, perla, pluma y flor. 

Margarita, esta lindá la mar, 
y el viento 
lleva esencia sutil de azahar: 
tu aliento. 

Y que lejos de mí vas a estar, 
guarda, niña, un gentil pensamiento 
al que un día te quiso contar 
un cuento. 

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

And I say it’s alright

I’m so excited for new opportunities and changes in my life. I feel like things are falling into place and I couldn’t be more thrilled. 

Two interviews next week. Wish me luck :)

Operation Christmas !

Hay amores que se vuelven resistentes a los daños

Como el vino que mejora con los años

Así crece lo que siento yo por ti

I can’t believe I hadn’t heard this before. Shakira is a great poet, even Gabriel Garcia Marquez said so himself. This song was made for the movie adaptation of his novel Love in a Time of Cholera, which I’m downloading as we speak. 

I want this in my future house!  A secret library <3 

(Source: wontyoustepintomyhumbleabode)

This guy is awesome!  Mark Fiore is the first Pulitzer prize winner for animated political cartoons published online. I’ve spent all morning looking at his different cartoons on Youtube. 

If for a moment God were to forget that I am a rag doll and granted me a piece of life, I probably wouldn’t say everything that I think; rather, I would think about everything that I say.

I would value things, not for their worth but for what they mean. I would sleep less, dream more, understanding that for each minute we close our eyes, we lose sixty seconds of light.

I would walk when others hold back, I would wake when others sleep, I would listen when others talk.

And how I would enjoy a good chocolate ice cream!

If God were to give me a piece of life, I would dress simply, throw myself face first into the sun, baring not only my body but also my soul.

My God, if I had a heart, I would write my hate on ice, and wait for the sun to show. Over the stars I would paint with a Van Gogh dream a Benedetti poem, and a Serrat song would be the serenade I’d offer to the moon.

I would water roses with my tears, to feel the pain of their thorns and the red kiss of their petals… My God, if I had a piece of life… I wouldn’t let a single day pass without telling the people I love that I love them.

I would convince each woman and each man that they are my favorites, and I would live in love with love.

I would show men how very wrong they are to think that they cease to be in love when they grow old, not knowing that they grow old when they cease to be in love!

To a child I shall give wings, but I shall let him learn to fly on his own. I would teach the old that death does not come with old age, but with forgetting.

So much have I learned from you, oh men … I have learned that everyone wants to live at the top of the mountain, without knowing that real happiness is in how it is scaled.

I have learned that when a newborn child first squeezes his father’s finger in his tiny fist, he has him trapped forever.

I have learned that a man has the right to look down on another only when he has to help the other get to his feet.

From you I have learned so many things, but in truth they won’t be of much use, for when I keep them within this suitcase, unhappily shall I be dying.

Check out this link to a blog that is just too funny 

On a lighter note, it is officially Christmas season. I can’t wait for it to snow :) 

Our ability to look at forms and perceive them differently based on our individual experiences and beliefs best expresses the real beauty of humanity, however this transcendent freedom of thought can also be one of our most destructive features. I just finished reading an article on a naturalized Somali-American who plotted an attack to take place at the lighting of a Christmas tree in downtown Oregon. He was part of a sting operation where FBI agents faked to be his accomplices. Osman Mohamud is only 19 years old,  he attended high school and college in Oregon, dreaming of a jihad attack since he was 15 years old. In several meetings with undercover agents he expressed admiration for the 911 attacks, which he referred to as “awesome.”  What strikes me most is reflecting on my own response to the 911 attacks; How can anyone think that human suffering is in any shape or form awesome? It is mind-boggling and it honestly scares me that such radicalism exists within our borders among young people of our generation. Growing up in a society where violence and radicalism is the norm, young people might not know any better because it is the only thing they have ever been exposed to. However, in today’s society where young people have so much access to resources…  I could have gone to high school with this kid, we could have taken the same classes, learned the same things, watched the same TV programs.. Just as I was inspired by the writings of Human Rights theorists, he was inspired by the complete opposite. 

How to feed the world - Denis van Waerebeke

International Economics in a nutshell. I wish I would have seen this last semester.  

(Source: x3)