blaiseskibicki

[blaiseskibicki]

Jeopardy

to live life?

in the dullness of happiness, forever wondering what's more 

or

Is it in the overindulgence of death, yearning to forever return?

02.01.2017

[blaiseskibicki]

Humans & things I love… gouda's my favorite

Planes

Rain

Humor

Nostalgia

Confidence in opinion and skepticism in knowledge

Hugs

Sarcasm, tolerance, eye contact 

Uncertainty and adrenaline

Thoughts of death and behaviors of life

The Argentinian at the cafe and the German at the coffee shop 

The crossfit junkie that serves drinks and the crossfit junkie that got me home safe

The agape that laid out my towel

The secret friend that wouldn't let a soul know she didn't do it for herself

The coworker that hooked it up for the sake of a smile

The manager that hooked it up for the mere sake of selflessness

The real estate agent that prays for me on days I do not and the one that tells me to dream big

The angel that always reminds me that someone loves me today

The long haired hippie that wasn't so crunchy after all

The blonde activist I went to class for just in an off chance he preached

The big girl that doesn't hug you with her arms but with her voice 

The fimographer who had me at absodiddly dutely and the movie maker that gave me grass and great convo in an image driven metropolis 

The alt emo softee that smiles and tells me he trips to Alabama shakes

The woman that grew her grey hair out and the girl that shaved her golden brown locks

The teacher that proved to me brilliance isn't serendipitous 

The hardass that pushed me to take on challenges 

The kook that was patient with me and the ninja that told me to take my time

The crazy that made me smile and feel sane in uncertain times

The man that taught me to be independent and the woman that taught me it's okay to lean on people

Peter. Both of them. All of them. Love of them. 

Anyone who let me feel minimally worthy. 

Anyone who made me cry.

Anyone who made me laugh.

Anyone who made me me now. 

And everyone I've ever met. Or even looked at. This was a list of people and things I've experienced for the first time today and for the zillionth time since birth. Moments, forgotten and for good, multiply and magnify my admiration and respect for all of the nameless souls who let me love them in any space.

You don't know who you are.

Be bold.

There are too many people to love, often too much fear to acknowledge it all, and surely too little time to tell them all. If you catch me smiling to myself, no doubt you're the reason why.  02.13.2017

[blaiseskibicki]

june 28, 2018

Reading the strangers project 20 before midnight and a sound come waving through in a subdued blare of mrs. jones (its much too soon to let it go now) 

What a beautiful humid and over eighty degree night. Seinfeld playing gently in the forward room, exa hugging my arm wrist hand and fingers, dusza playing hide and seek

[blaiseskibicki]

Sozzled

Taut loops, half moons, fabric gliding whimsically and directionally against glass— smooth as water had water not yet lapped up the right face of itself. Smooth. Threads thirsty to gasp the source less sips of distilled earth from last nights cleansing, it’s most pure expression save ourselves. One not promised and one sporadically offered based upon play dates of ocean waves and shifting skies. He wiped down the slender see through table littered with dust garnished with pollen so they could read the menu. 06.10.2019

[blaiseskibicki]

About New York

I love the musky smell that clouds my apartment building. The steep steps lined with muted and stale green walls. The smell of dinner seeping from underneath each Quiana and crumbling homestead. The blunt humidity that pushes into me as I open the door and shutting it, switching the lock once to the left and once to the right. I love unlocking and locking my door. The shambled arrangement of keys in my hand, only to be discovered upon gently and fastidiously eyeing each shape, feeling each groove to fit seamless, into the correct keyhole. I love my checkered bathroom floors, complete with three Hollywood blinding vanity lights and my moms green accessories- four monogrammed towels, one home vine shower curtain that looks like rain caressing each truss and trindle  in the shower, spiraling down into the metal drain

Listening to poor American candy hip hop reggaeton play as I siphon alcohol soaked ladyfingers and fluffy rich cream coated in cocoa as my Brazilian waitress explains that the black and white 1920s photos sprinkled in between grandly framed mirrors stretching down at an angle towards each wooden dining table are of the owners family. That the two Mexican men behind the glass wall at the bar throw blackened pots and spaceship saucepans on top of blue and sunny amber flames that lick through the charred ten burner stove while two more in the back plate shaved fennel, raw julienne mushrooms, lemon and parmegian and desserts of divine balance while I sip my decaf coffee.  9.17.2017

[blaiseskibicki]

march 9, 2022

another poem.

the words aren’t new

ink doesn’t dry on wet pixels.

these marks transform only what you have 

already thought you’re reading. and 

if you can’t read

then time becomes richer 

by your lack of attention to 

my banal insatiability 

the pain and 

process of

interrupted 

originality 

scripted

[blaiseskibicki]

Lorea & Juan

You would look at her. Or make eye contact rather. And she wouldn’t look away nor really at you for too long. But for the moment a gaze was held and you were sharing each other’s faces but not intimately. She had kind eyes. The kind of countenance that wasn’t afraid to see you but wasn’t asking to get to know you either. And soft freckles in the shape of a feminine masquerade lace that covered your face an inch below your hairline and that flirted with your cheekbones. He, on the other hand, was full of words and sustained intrigue. Self contained, he wanted to know about you so long as it followed his story and he would take your hand to lead you into el balinche, the danger, because he knew it better. He was Honduran and knew people. not so much he knew them well but he was the kind of guy that made a family wherever he went. Introducing me to the sea, the coral, bleached in circles, 4 langostas. And an eel I couldn’t make out beneath the transparent water within the labyrinth of coral alcoves among the dusty current. “Keep up!” He kept shouting although if I got any closer he’d hit me with his flippers. Begging to be followed. He loved showing people his country. He loved getting to know his country more, chatting up Danilo or a fellow snorkeler. It was aggressive and kind. He shared everything he had and when he felt comfortable he laughed at your chess moves as if they were bad, regardless of his expectation to win and regardless if they were really even bad or not. I was so lucky. Within the first three minutes of talking to him in the muggy open air hostel bunk room he shared a piece of coral with me he had retrieved from a dive early on with BICA, who he works for. He shared his weed. Even though I had told him I wouldn’t. He was playful with cats, a bit rough, but not too much. He shared his friends and his network, Jeremy in the balinche, with me. He took care and told me not to go there alone. He wanted company just as much as he relentlessly shared and was willing to share his. Which was overflowing and abundant. She stayed behind. Lorea. What a pretty name. I swam out to him and after ten minutes he gave me his snorkel spout so I could breathe. He pointed to the things he found interesting. A parrot fish, blow fish, 4 lobsters, eel, coral etc and led me delicately above and between the sharp and shallow coral around the bend of half moon bay. I wouldn’t have went so far if it weren’t for him. I wouldn’t have even swam over the turtle grass 10ft out from the white sand. But my first night at the hostel was magical as he took me across the street to stow our belongings instead of leaving them on the beach. And I bought them both beers at danilos street bbq while we sat in acid island silence just looking out and around. Not eager nor curious, just looking gently and comfortably. He loved to dj too and showed me how to work the equalizer on Spotify. Showed me his panorama of songs of which I captures 72% of for myself. He doesn’t like cumbia because it’s demeaning to women. And he’s a reptile and studies demonology. He can do astral projection. And his first comment was on my chronic icarus demon t-shirt that I almost didn’t bring with me.

[blaiseskibicki]

The fact This list Bitter tongue Bitten mind Bite Eat time Thirsty touch Drunk  face Hungry skin Crawl in place Luminous bones Trail lips Drink soul Caress hips Solve hands Sheltered tears Grip toes tender fears Curl kindness Cells spin Wet above Dry within Insulate stars Insult starts Spelling smiles Writing parts Thoughts inside Harden rind Galaxies hide         to mine Like a vacuum

[blaiseskibicki]

bikes.

head dipped back.

throat exposed to  wind that rushes over skin to chill that swims through tubes interconnected under thin layer of skin.

a breeze, continuous, wipes over film of damp face, pushing way through invisible gaps speaking to what mouth begs for. water. air. a slick combination of mysticism and atomic (aromatic?) nutrients that seep and wallow in face of nerdy face.

guess it will be a few spritzes of daydreams in here. that's not to say into, not to say not. but its to say exercise minds eyes and emotions often show in split second slices the places that bleed out of valiance, out of vulnerability. can a thought be cut? can we juice emotion? guess circumstantially, when class bored as such, see how much turns thoughts into stardust and swept back up into mounds of meaning or completeness, indecipherable. a new way to break down and refine architecture of mind.

so anyway.

hair.  tugs on atmosphere as legs pull the summit of corpse, most teeter tottering through gravity and suspension, lifting, levity, resisting pressure, playing tensions. hair follows face a few follicles stimulated and death tickles minds playground as they fall back in unison, touching tender, a complacent caress.

said miss. think not. miss think, but maybe said miss, maybe think plenty. well play into bout of madness what is it precisely miss? view of ridges, folds, stare to heavy in space of transience? volition, funny word, huh?

[blaiseskibicki]

may my home always travel with me

[blaiseskibicki]

aboard an airplane

PHL -> IAD Our bodies resemble the topography of the earth. The multi tonal canvas of networked paths, connected by veins drawn through with freckles. Sometimes we find solace in the leopard prints that perform upon our bodies, but sometimes these prints leave us scarred and tattered, rough and smooth. Like the prints of our skin, the earth screams out its discrepancies..It's waves of different lengths. we scoff at industrial platforms that encroach our boundaries or furrow our brows at the burrows too large, do we not feel the same towards the fields gone wasted ? Or the farms unfurnished? too many houses or too many trees- not scarcely are we brought to our knees. But who are we to turn our eyes and discard ourselves? Are not these patterns reminders of our nature ? La naturaleza, la energia hermosa. The goal we seek should not be to change, but rather to sink into the uncolored names. Instead of categories, of unbalanced fame. Let us let ourselves watch the world. unfold as it may.

[blaiseskibicki]

a few hours in Lima

I just want to let the world know that it's cloudy here in miraflores. It looks like it could pour down buckets at any moment and the sky is a stark grey. But now, in this moment, it doesn't matter. For there is a dog readily chasing after a tennis ball, paragliders floating above like smooth waves of energy, and there is life everywhere. Kids curious, couples kissing, and people laughing. There are so many reasons to reject today, but instead, I rejoice

[blaiseskibicki]

Stop 1: Santiago de Chile

Cass and I met at the bus station Thursday evenin after I made my last preparations for this black hole of a three+ week trip I would be embarking on... To me, nothing was seeming real- even after I bought the flight and bus tickets. I had done research on all 12 destinations I would be visiting, but for some reason all I could picture in my future was a black empty gap of time stretching until my last four sweet days in buenos aires before I would return to the US. Its a weird feeling... And sitting here in my hostel bed now in San Pedro de Atacama, that feeling has barely dwindled down- leaving me eager yet calm for the journey ahead... Ive got a few things on my agenda for sure, but for now Im just letting myself settle into the tide of travel pulling me in all directions, scrambling my thoughts, but carrying me safe to shore ultimately one step closer up the west coast of South America. Take our first destination for example...

We slept most of the way to Santiago. A calm, actually non dreadful 19 hour bus ride. Ive come to strangely enjoy these rides... Sleeping being the main event, but reading, listening to music, staring out of the window, and contemplating life taking up the remainder of my time. I watched the sun set, fortunate as we were since we requested the two most front seats on the bus on the upper deck...felt like we were flying. I looked at thhe colors as thhe sky made its daily descent, dipping into the other half of the world. pastel blue to periwinkle to lavender, a deep purple, a hint of orange, eventually smoothed into harsh neon pinks and reds. Amazing how beautiful and complex it can all be in such a short span of the day.. a sunset.. something I will most definitely never get used to.

We arrived in Santiago around noon the next day on Friday, took a cab to our hostel, then took off for a walk through the center towards the fish market for some lunch. Vendors pulled us in all directions thanks to our super discreet blonde hair that essentially screams to Latin America that we are gringas (white North Americans) and that we are not from here. but we pushed through the haggling and the not so smooth persuasion to look around the market before we decided on one of the 15 market restaurants crammed inside of a square gothic structure no bigger than one square block. Cass and I both shared Machas Parmeseanos which are small scallop looking things with red bulging tails attached sideways then baked and covered with parmesan. They were a little too fishy for me, so after a few I took a rest and decided to wait for my Caudillo Pablo Neruda that was on the way shortly after. The caudillo came steaming in a black stone bowl filled to the top with a variety of seafood in an ungodly broth that reeked of garlic and onions, something I had been mostly deprived of living with bambina. Cass got the ceviche... both were amazing and scarfed in record time, which also came with a record bill. We are both new at this whole chilean thing (not really, I was in valparaiso a few months ago) but anyway I still feel dirty and ashamed that we didnt catch on to the exchange rate that soon turned our lunch bill into a whopping 30 USD each after all was said and done... Welcome to Chile I guess?

We swept our overflowing guilt under the rug and called it instead as a welcome dish to help with that, then headed back for the hostel. On our way, we passed through Plaza de Armas where street artists were showing off literally left and right. The band of boys and the single girl was the group that really caught our eye though... they brought out a boom box and when we saw their baggy clothing, we knew we had some hip hop dancers in the streets, so we patiently waited for them to get started and it was completely worth it... they were amazing.. see facebook video- however the video barely does them justice because just after my phone battery died and cut off the video, they jumped into unison and did even COOLER shit.. not really, but the whole group symmetry was pretty sick.

We napped.. for wayyy too long, but woke up to an amazing hostel dinner offered complimentary by our hostel owners. Apparently it was one of their friends birthday and since they live in the house, they essentially just throw parties and invite the hostel dwellers to join. And we were pretty happy we did so that we could reduce our pile of guilt to something a bit smaller from lunch earlier. It was probably 80 percent them and their friends.. and about four of us, the remaining 20 percent, hostel guests. But there was free wine, coke, water, an AMAZING beef stew with tons of veggies, and good music. The owners of the hostel were SUPER chill and we just hung out with the party outside by the fire until Cass and I tuckered out into our beds after shamefully rejecting their relentless requests for us to join them to a club/bar. But cass and I had a tour we needed to get to the next day...

We woke up around 8:30 so that we would be on time for our 10am tour... eventhough chilean time means the tour guide wouldnt arrive until at least 10:15.. it was chill though, I was just happy we were not late and that we didnt miss anything. It ended up being just us and one other dude with the cute, pixie haired tour guide. she took us through some park, into that fish market again, we crossed the river and walked through a HUGE food market past yelling peruvians and chileans, then caught the subway to the general cemetary which was built the year the first president was elected... the size of 117 football fields. damn. After all of that death, we concluded the tour at a bar with free drinks, Terremotos, called Quita Pena (take away the pain). All in all, an informative, nice tour to show us the other, not as central and popular part of Santiago.. and because we walked back to the hostel most times, Cass and I were able to see the main touristy ish such as the presidential palace and plaza de armas, by ourselves.

Again we returned to the hostel to nap until a new couple came in the room to join us and told us that they were headed to a pub crawl later that night.. So Cass and I walked to a cheap Irish bar nearby and shared a platter of Chorillana, which was bigger and heaver than my whole head. Seriously. Chorillana is native to Valparaiso and consists of french fries, cheese, beef or chicken, and some sauce... huge and satisfying to say the least and we made it back just in time to head to the pubcrawl with our new couple friends. The pub crawl was chill, and good mostly because of the free wine and cheese that we had for the first hour, but dwindled down towards the end mostly because we were in the middle of no where it felt like the only population in the bar was the pub crawl group. eh, whatevskies.. im not much of a bar person, however I DO remember that when some familiar electronic song came on, my blood pressure rised to twice what was normal for a period of 2 minutes as I danced frantically around the bar.. but then turned back to normal, tired blaise self. ha very naiicee

Our last day, we switched hostels because although we had the CHILLESt hostel owners ever, a cold shower is never something I look forward to, and if possible I will avoid it at all costs. So on to Landay Barcelo Hostel, just a shhort walk away (if we didnt get lost and overshoot it by three blocks). There, we were surprised to find warm rooms and even better, HHOT SHOWERS ahhhhh seriously- never taking that for granted ever again ... and sitting here at san pedro about to embark on our tour to bolivia i have a feeling i will be a lot more grateful after these next two nights in the middle of no where. Anyway, after we showered up, we went to the human rights museum that Cass was dying to go to and that I knew in my heart i should go to as well, given I was having trouble comprehending all of the cold war facts and happenings in south america during that time due to our messed up government. So we went, I was bored, didnt understand much, got kinda depressed, then we walked the surrounding neighborhood which brought my spirits up a bit because it has a strong presence of french architecture since at the time, french culture was the model. The French Peluqueria was a store we peeked in that had all of the furniture and layout of an olden time french hair cuttery but with time converted into a cafe which looked fancy shhmancy and hoity toity and the most amazing cafe ambiance anyone could ever wishhh for, but then we remembered were broke, so took a few measly pics that did no justice and continued on our walk which ended at the metro station to take us to Cerro San Cristobal which is a super high hill just at the edge of the center of the city that has the most incredible panoramic views. Cass and I decided to "walk" up it.. unknowing that it really was a freaking hike and that by the top we would have stripped 50% of our clothing and still be sweating through my ugg slippers (great choice..not) but COMPLETELY worth it.. I died. the top was amazing and the view was exceptional given the time of day where the mountains turned a deep purple and the lining behind them was a soft pink and lavender. UGH. we stayed until the lights below us flickered within the city then took the funicular down.. literally marvelous and unbelievable these sights are.. i just really cant wrap my head around this whole nature thing, its too good for me and each moment i love it soon passes to be a faded memory, which only reminds me of the ticking time clock that looms above slowly taking away each moment of beauty and amazement. sad, but leaves me much more appreciative and much more absorbent in moments like those, knowing that moment of beauty is all i will have until the next time, which will never ever be exactly the same.

Oh yea and on our walk to Cerro san cristobal, we walked through the coolest open air concert in a huge park where there were tons of chill people and hippies relaxing having a good time. amazing vibes for sure. And as we descended, we again walked through barrio bellavista which was lined with bars and restaurants packed with the crazies from the concert presumeably.. and we took a seat to have yet another grimey bar meal- still good though.. and later a really expensive strawberry and nutella crepe... UGH i cant wait for bolivia.. i cant handle this chilean peso conversion stuff. too much for my liking. but all in all, santiago was an amazing place with amazing vibes from friendly and kind people. 9am the next morning, we took off for a 24 hour bus ride to San Pedro de Atacama... one of the driest deserts in the world, which leads to the clearest skies.. which is why cass and I plan on sitting outside tonight to look at the sky. in the freezing cold. and I CANT WAIT.

[blaiseskibicki]

what happened?

what happened there? or "¿qué pasó?" en castellano... well i dont know really... i guess the bolts of electricity have been passing just fine, sending shock signals to and from the dormant computer.. but moreover, i mean what has been happening with me. and more specifically, what on earth have i been doing as the precious thing we view as a vortex called time engulfs us and spits us out, either for better or worse.. in my case, im hoping im better, but as i look back life has been fairly normal aca(here) en buenos aires, the smelly, dirty, endlessly questioning city ive been plopped down upon. my days have been spent in cafes most of the time i suppose.. when im not in bed at least. but even here i dont feel a waste of time, for ive made friends in the various cafes i shamelessly spend money at. but money isnt the only thing im doling out... which makes me feel better.

there is Frank from Natural Deli (but i actually just found out he quit when we bumped into each other at the McDonalds on the corner), there´s Alexandra from Felicidad... who has a smile that could light up an entire birthday cake from the glow that emanates from her sparkly, full mouth, and then there is Laura- A woman not too much older than me it appears, who threw her arms around me and her face into my face as she kissed my cheek and introduced herself. Immediately i felt as if I had known this woman for years, like she was my godmother or angel-apprentice of Carolina´s or something. Its just in the way she carries herself. and for his, i find my self slowly weening away from Felicidad and slipping into a routine at Chef Leon, where she works, just for those warm, tight hugs and genuine 17 second back and forth of "hola, como estas, bien y vos, q lindo, q te vayas bien, quieres el mismo?, si gracias, huevos revueltos con queso, cappucino tambien?, no pienso q voy a saltarlo hoy, licuada de frutas rojas posible?, dale, dale gracias, besos, ´sta luego"

....and if you havent the adept skills to read into my continuous castellano pretend dialogue, here´s what you need to know: 1) Laura is a beautiful person and 2) I found the best scrambled eggs and cheese of maybe my whole life at this little joint (even compared to the USA mmmhmmmm). combined=prime way to spend an hour, or 3 or 4 of my day before it even begins.. beginning meaning class, or actually last weekend i changed it up:

I sat, over satisfied as always because somehow the small demon inside my head has convinced me to buy something sweet and most definitely chocolate after my cappucino and eggs.... so i stuff my little panza until i hear the demon rear its voice yet again, except this time instead of saying "do it, buy the chocolate, you wont ever be in this cafe again after you return to the US" it dwindles down to that of a whiney, self hatred kind of tone: "you stupid girl, why do you insist on eating a full meal and then treating yourself to an oreo cheesecake the size of your face. do you see whats happening to your figure? the once flaca chica i was upon arrival has plumped up from your shameless and careless chocolate cravings"... i think it goes something like that.. some days hes a bit more forgiving than others, like this past weekend .. as i was saying.... i sat there for an hour or two or three then took off, with earphones plugged in, towards the bosques of palermo. I got slightly lost on the way, but i didnt care, because i had time. (which by the way is the most absurd invention of the existence of human beings.. i walk around, not knowing where im going really or what im doing and have a damn good time just moving my legs, yet somehow we have managed to conjure up this act of life as "wasting away time".. maybe its really just a united statian thing, but for me this is no waste. Sure i could be off running from street to street to store to store to tour guide to futbol game to planetarium to ceramic class- and sure, by the end of the day i will feel safe and exhausted, pleasantly tired because i can say that i "did something"... but what about the days when my body just glides over the textured ground, through the intoxicating air.. my mind is active..does that count at least? or is my mind really active???... but wait, my whole point is, WHY DOES IT MATTER. I spend the day, Im living a life, and Im having fun.. so why and how has time managed to contort and twist and burn our minds into thinking one form and function is correct? what ever happened to just "being"...) so i wandered and occasionally checked my GPS until i found myself crossing the dirt path towards the two lakes situated in the center of the walking circuit that surrounded the beautiful plane of grass and mulch. It´s crazy for me, and i know its weird that it appears so crazy for me.. but think about it. Here i am, sheltered girl from delaware, and I come to a park.. where people actually go to rollerblade (how fun! too bad i still havent tried it out), people go for walks (this i could manage), people bike (this will happen this week), people feed the geese (ok.. i can do that thanks to meme and waffles and all of her tiny ducklings that sat in beds of daffodils during the spring as we chucked moldy bread towards their beaks).. but really, its a park, and its so evidently a place of community, of community and diversity. the two elements pulling and pushing and twisting the ambient into a seducing mix of city life. simply astonishing. 

I walked around for a while, occacionally poking my earbuds in and out of both, one, or no ears to focus on what i considered most gravitating at the time.. sometimes of which can be just the sound of metal machines whizzing past on the paved road. And for this, for my aimless walk around palermo, i felt better about my chocolate, dulce de leche, and whipped cream cake that was barbarically consumed just hours before. 

i changed it up.. yea. well i guess every day im changing it up arent i? i mean, i go to the same cafe, sleep in the same bed, and go to the same classes. but who said life cant be exhilarating like this?! for starters.. this routine makes things like palermo slap you in the face and say HEY DUDE, THERE IS LIFE OUT THERE AND ITS FREAKING INCREDIBLE AND SO NOT WHAT YOU ARE USED TO.. but at the same time.. im in constant change, even at these cafes or nestled in the neighborhood of belgrano, wandering below the tall skinny trees. My sheets are changed, class discussion is always different, and i get a new hug and a fresh smile each time i go to Chef Leon. I suppose this is why I´m okay. Some feel pressure to always be doing something, and by "some", i am mostly referring to myself. because i feel pressure every damn day that i sleep until 11 in the morning.. but come on people, this is what makes my little weekend excursions so exciting.. so novel and surprising to my sleepy eyes. its a life i cannot decide that i prefer or not.. because i could be a go getter.. you know. wake up, new tour, new store, new activity, new money every day.. OR i could slumber through a few hours and give my mind a break.. one of the best feelings is waking up only to sink into another dream again... to awake myself again for another day. then BAM hit myself with an artisinal market or visit to the park of which i can fully appreciate due to my lack of over the top, jaw dropping excursions that dont occupy my week days. 

so what happened? ha, i love this phrase. its genius.. kinda like the person who repeated it to me.. i´m still unsure of what happened, but i know one thing is for sure.. ive really started thinking about it.

[blaiseskibicki]

scribbling...

i am thankful for today. i am thankful for each second that has passed through my very fleeting life, although many of them may have been floating around me with my head poking safely out of my pink fleece blanket, sound asleep. I am thankful and I am incredibly fortunate  because I feel that my ability to reflect on the experiences I have encountered, and the future that stretches before me, is something many do not stop to appreciate. I am thankful that I can have these moments, these moments to take a step back and look at where I am, overwhelmed by a mist of fascination and complete awe. Such as last sunday for example... 

A fairly normal day I would say, nothing I did was insane or incredibly adrenaline inviting, but I guess that depends on the eyes through whom is watching- for my eyes found bliss, starting with the two older women I encountered on Cabildo Ave. As I was trying to search for the right bus, two older ladies identified my confusion and generously offered their voice of reason and years of wisdom to get me past the mini road block I found on my way to Marco´s house. Within the first ten seconds, they had become aware of my foreign roots.. well wait, they probably knew that when they spotted a girl craning her neck under a bus stop trying to read the route sign.. but anywho, we started talking and one of the women asked where I was from, as if directly pegging me as a united station was too abrupt. We ended up chatting about her son who lives in CT and my reasons for being foreign in such a chaotic city-- "studying" I explained. I left, wishing them a happy mother´s day from the US, but receiving much more than just directions. For my day had truly started and a light was sparked somewhere within me after this short conversation. It is moments like these when I am thankful- for it is life´s way of sending us reminders of the beautiful people that surround us each day.

Even better... I finally, after almost two hours, made it to the train station near Marco´s house to meet up with him, Barbie, and Lucas. As I sat on the pedestrian railing, I overlooked the endless and evitable convergence of the railroad tracks layed out below the pale blue sky and silver, sliver of a moon.  I don´t know if it was for the way the colors faded and slipped into my eyes, or if it was my lingering candle still burning from the gracious encounter on Cabildo, but I sat there waiting, wondering.. how could any human pass by a single day of their lives as if it is something short of magnificent, surreal, unbelievable, and extravagant. For there, just above us looms a star, always peering down upon us. For the sun and the moon, those elements of which we take for granted each day & night, are two beings that we ignore and somehow manage to walk past, careless and ponderless of the existence of our beings. It was a realization I think I will never forget, and once realized, it is life changing. I really can go on for hours here, writing about how these stars, although dictators of our very lives, somehow are lost in our minds and swept under our surface of thought- undermined by trivial things such as breaking a wine glass at dinner or having too many exams for school, However, instead of going through the list of things we count before our own sun and stars, I challenge you for just a moment to step outside. Take in a breath of air and imagine the gravity and greatness of this universe. It is amazing how small everything will seem in comparison and I assure you, if you have the time, your perspective will shift- for there is unknown and magic everywhere.

Continuing... 

I turn my head to see two motorcycles whizz up, one carrying Marco & Barbie, the other carrying Lucas & soon to be me in about one minute. The ride home I couldn´t stop laughing. It wasn´t a comical situation by any means, but I mean COME ON, here I was, in some random region/village/neighborhood of Argentina, seated on the back of a motorcycle on my way to play with Marco´s new kitty, with my three argentinian friends. How could I not love life? How could I feel anything short of thankful.... I want to use the word blessed, but with caution- for right now I am unsure of what is blessing me- but what I have come to so far is energy and the universe. 

These moments.. these very silly, simple moments are what make me thankful, because in these moments I am thankful. I am thankful to have the capacity to grasp and look at what life has handed me.

I am thankful to have the ability to realize I am thankful- and this is the sole reason I can be completely and absolutely infatuated with my life.

[blaiseskibicki]

...because EVERY DAY is my mom's day

I love you because you are me. As I grow, you too grow with me. I feel your blood pass through my veins And I feel your soul blossom within mine each coming day. Life has pulled me in all directions, And I have made my own choices But I am comforted in knowing that you have been with me all along. For your presence is growing stronger as I form a better relationship with myself, my soul. I can feel you there, and I am grateful. Because I can feel your tender soul penetrate mine- and it's magnificent. Because at once, my heart, my mind, and my senses are awakened. I know who you are, for you are my mother and I have listened to our quarrels and cries. But you are stronger when silent- inside of me. With you within me, I find myself and I find my purpose. Because I feel your purpose- to love without bounds. Your endless love and your endless kisses grant me security- security within myself and security that enables me to move forward... To sink my teeth into whatever the universe gives me. So that is what I do, and because of you, I am me. And within me, is you. Thank you, from this moment forward and for all moments passed, I thank you and I love you. You are my everything... And more.

[blaiseskibicki]

I´m not sure...

i´m not sure what it is about the whole second month of study abroad, but it seems that it is the month of slacking... blogging, travel, and otherwise. I am deeply sorry to those who have been checking back and finding not a lousy trail of crumbs to follow or keep your interest, but here goes a new post.. of something we will both be surprised when finished. because i really have no idea what i am writing. 

I guess I can start by saying that I am thankful. I am thankful for today, as with all days, but i find that when expressed with words, I believe myself more and (hopefully) instill a bit of hope in those who read my expressions. Today was a day of mild hurt for reasons i cannot openly identify, although I know in my heart that these feelings usually prove to be true in the end through simple intuition. However, I am working on meditation.. or at least I say that I am.. and I guess that´s a start. Although I feel the way I feel, I find that the most important thing is to ride it out- take every moment for what it is worth. and in every moment today that I can reflect upon, not one thing happened that I should feel sorry for. A quote I found the other day can sum it up perfectly: The soul always knows exactly what to do to heal itself. The challenge is to silence the mind.

It is the mind we all have conflictions with. The mind is what creates illusions from the past and hopes for the future only to unwind in other unexpected forms. This is why I guess I feel a sense of tranquility now. I am working on identifying these feelings I have, rather than accepting or battling with them. 

Moving on... 

I love my one professor. For two reasons.. he´s a character, a truly hilarious and insightful guy.. and he is buddhist.. a man who does not eat meat.. in the country of cows and asados. Which is truly commendable. For these reasons, it only makes sense that his assignments are as liberal as they come. For example, over the holy week he asked us to write two pages about our vacation, or weekend and how we spent it. Being forgetful as I am, I forgot to do it, but rather remembered a day that I would absolutely love to write about- which happens to chart one of the top five days of my life... I politely asked if instead I could turn in an account of this, and as sweet and considerate as he is, he enthusiastically told me i could, and rather if I wanted to turn in the english version from my journal, even better. so that is what I did. I re-wrote about an amazing day in argentina where I ate a feast of meat and sweets, learned a traditional folkloric dance, tested out my archery skills, and drank mate (a hot, tea like beverage traditional to south america) intermittently. Well I bring up this amazing professor of mine because in order to get a higher grade/extra credit points, he told us to turn in one more write up of our choice.. anything really. So I chose the topic of hugging and argentinian people. I miss hugging, in the land of kisses for salutation, I began to feel a void of enclosing my arms around other humans.. so this was my topic of choice.

Also, I went to Iguazu falls the weekend of April 20th.. Which was freaking amazing and such a pleasure to be outdoors amongst the trees and nature. Iguazu falls is one of the seven wonders of the world and the second largest series of waterfalls in the world. I think I need some pictures to justify any of this, but for my lack of internet on my laptop, it is kind of difficult to upload them..one day... it will happen.

So im not sure now.. i am loving buenos aires and all that it has to offer. so much so that i feel no pressure to explore the outside world. I am content here, keeping busy with new friends and experiences. Volleyball and keeping up with my martial arts has been a true pleasure. The other day I went to the park and it was a divine experience while i walked past whizzing roller bladers and bikers making their weekly rounds of exercise pleasure while viewing the sky reflect off of the pond beside me. Life is a beautiful thing, and there will always be moments of doubt, fury, hurt.. but it is those moments of bliss, tranquility, and euphoria that can ultimately center our hearts and minds into the most comfortable state.