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  • occasionalsonder

    @occasionalsonder

    Living Vicariously Through Brown Eyes

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  • occasionalsonder
    26.03.2020 - 9 monts ago
    It’s Just a Crappy Movie at this Point.
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    After 2016, I stopped planning or even anticipating any big decisions in my life. I only looked forward to certainties, holidays and such. As far as I was aware, if I made it to the next birthday, that would be good enough for me.

    After 2019, I stopped being surprised at any big catastrophe.  I lived on a day to day basis. As far as I was aware, if I got out of bed every day that would be good enough for me.

    Today is the 25th of March, 2020. The third month of the year and so much chaos has tumbled the world 180º. But as far as I am concerned, here eating cereal in my PJs at 4pm, I could not give a shit. I don’t mean to say this in an arrogant or dismissive tone. It’s just that I have constant anxiety and I’ve always been a pessimistic person. Put two and two together you don’t exactly get Ms. Universal Sunshine. When trouble emerges, I no longer panic. I have grown accustomed to the practicality of this bleak world. I am aware that it is a terrible way to view and live but I can’t seem to turn this part of my brain off. There is a constant loop that replays, “People have their own agenda. Nobody is looking out for you. If you die tomorrow who will know.” And the truth of our situation has made this more obtrusive… I have become generally okay with it.

    Nothing seemed to fit anymore. This being said, don’t misinterpret my callousness, I still do my part, stay inside, keep up with the news, speak up when needed. I simply have become numb to the overwhelming information. This whole staying in is nothing new to me. In fact, it seems that last summer was a test run for this precise situation. I went 5 months without seeing anyone, no money, no exhilaration, and my skin going paler as I eluded from the sun. This, for me, is just round two. I mean at least this time I am not the only one confined to a small space, unable to work. The bonus part? I am no longer in constant physical pain, that too became a numbing sensation.

    Honestly, I prefer my own company to a group of “buddies”.** I’ve grown tired of fake small talk with tourist I see once a week. At least with myself, I don’t have to lie. I don’t have to control my feelings or facial expressions. I can shout, cackle, sob, all within a 20-second window and be comfortable with the bizarreness of it all. The isolation has become acceptable. 

    I suppose the only thing I easily miss is concerts. I miss the excitement. The anticipation of seeing the band members come onstage. The genuine act of living in the moment. For those 120 minutes, a whole crowd becomes one. The tingle of euphoria washes over all of us at once. No shame, no difference, no worry. Just a state of authenticity. Only then am I really content in being apart of this existence.

    Madness or not, time waits for no one. It keeps going. We all just have to live with the decisions we make, our output and little bits of pleasure we find in the days we are given. Whatever the rest of the year holds, it’ll be an interesting experience, to say the least. As for now, stay inside and wash your hands.

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    **imagine Charlie’s Angels-Cameron Diaz pronouncing this, that was my exact tone lol

    #numb #self deprecating humor #cant sleep#sleep deprived#help me#newpost#new post #new writers corner #new writing blog #new writers on tumblr #new writer boost #new blog#newblog#latinathoughts #food for thought #no tears left to cry #dark humor#3am thoughts#midnight#midnight thinking#anxiety#anxiety thoughts
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  • occasionalsonder
    26.03.2020 - 9 monts ago
    A Balance to All
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    10.23.2019

    One fact remains: there is always an equilibrium in our universe. The good with the bad. The happy and the sad. It’s been a consistent struggle to deal with my emotions since I discovered the reason why I feel as intensely as I do. These past few days have been so great. The sun illuminating the bright colors, giving me a reason to finally get out of bed. I find myself looking forward to doing more. I organize my room, even pick up a pencil again. Everything appeared to fall right into place once more. But, I realized, and anticipate, really really good days always attract really really bad ones. Sometimes I find myself looking for it. I go out of my way to see something that will rip my chest apart, having my tears salt my wounds. It seems in those moments I am not only crying for what I’ve seen but also letting myself feel all the nasty I’ve been pushing down. The good days always seem to give a hand to the sadness, letting it breeze its way through a sliver in my window. I shove the thoughts farther back in my mind letting it rot away until one day the dying parts are stinking up the place, forcing me to clean up the mess. 

    In those moments I have to scrape all the mold off the walls until I am bleeding, feeling all the suppressed pain. I feel the burden so deep in my chest there’s nothing more to do but scream, burning my vocal cords in the process. I am crying for the devastations of last week, yesterday, and the yet future. I wait for the emotional vomit to wash over me until I wipe away my tears, pretending it never happened. It only lasts a few minutes but I am left exhausted as if I lasted years. I repair my walls, brick after boring brick, before doing it all over again. 

    I have constant waves of anxiety. I have to bury my feet deep in the sand, getting a firm grip while I let it pass. Then sometimes I feel my foot slip and I am tumbling so fast I can’t stick my head above water. The waves are crushing me further and further. It’s grabbed my leg and won’t let go. Each wave slapping my harder and more determined to take me into the vast emptiness. At times I am ready to let go, giving it permission to drown me in the void, to exhausted to fight and hoping someone else will pull me out instead.  

    Then by some miracle, I am given a small chance to lift my head and take in the air. As if it’s my last, I inhale deeply enough that I know if I’m taken over again I will be okay. I hold onto that breath and it gives me the strength to swim again. I find my place on the ground and dig even further, anchoring myself before the wave decides to take me again. 

    In those moments of bliss, I feel accomplished. I see my life fifteen even twenty years away in the never-ending horizon. I am prepared to tackle the world within a stubborn society. I become like the trunk of a tree, steady and unhinged. I am willing to push through the next wave that will send me spiraling because I know what to expect during the lows. Then it always comes back with euphoric highs. The waves come stronger still but my roots will always find a place in the ground. So I let myself cry, scream, and scratch at the hole in my chest for a few minutes. I let myself feel those waves no matter how unbearable and forthcoming as they are. At the end of each succumbed period, I know the sun will shine and I will be happy once more. 

    #numb #self deprecating humor #cant sleep#sleep deprived#help me#newpost#new blog#newblog#latinathoughts #food for thought #no tears left to cry #spilled tears#dark humor#3am thoughts #3 am feelings #anxiety#flames#waves
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  • occasionalsonder
    23.01.2020 - 11 monts ago

    lxstmyhed :

    **USE HEADPHONES FOR BETTER EXPERIENCE**

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  • occasionalsonder
    23.01.2020 - 11 monts ago

    lxstmyhed :

    **USE HEADPHONES FOR BETTER EXPERIENCE**

    Request here. (OR see description if ur on mobile)

    See all my other audio edits here! (OR see description if ur on mobile)

    ***DISCLAIMER***: Nothing but the edit is mine.

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  • occasionalsonder
    occasionalsonder
    15.11.2019 - 1 year ago
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  • occasionalsonder
    14.11.2019 - 1 year ago

    Hello God, Are You There? It’s Me Karla.

    Well okay. Good. I understand now why I don’t publicize my 3 a.m thoughts anymore. They’re not even coherent sentences… They are babbles and a bunch of shitty whining. At least this way I can rant about anything without having to pay someone to listen.

    I can’t comprehend the need to detain everything inside. Ball it up and cram it to the deepest parts of my mind. It just waits for the perfect moment, ready to be set on fire and create a big hole in the middle of my chest. Once it’s lit, there is nothing to stop it. I just sit and wait for it to take its toll. I attempt to prepare for the damage but still each time the wave of despair collides against me without warning. 

    I wish I can find the words to explain how I feel the way I do. I wish I can express that sadness and loathing, anger and deception can show up unannounced like a really bad debt collector. Make a surprise visit and feel the need to take my last cup of coffee. Who the fuck even allowed these bastards to move in? The weight of the unwelcomed guest forces me to not move for days. The thing is that there never are consistent signs of when I’ll become this other me. I sleep for 36 hours straight or I don’t sleep for a week. I eat everything in my line of sight or I eat nothing at all. I become so angry I shut down and if a single word is directed at me I run for the nearest exit before they can see the pain in my eyes. 

    The thing is that I am really trying here… I gather up as much nerve as possible to muster what I feel but the moment I form the words I catch myself before I can vomit any of it out. I don’t know if it’s because I’m scared to be seen as weak or because I hate myself so much I can’t find the will to even care.  I hide my pain in dark humor until someone catches on and I have to make up an elaborated lie of how perfectly fine I am. 

    Worst of it all, I can’t exactly put my finger on the reason behind why the wave of emotions are so intense I become paralyzed. The tears stream down my face burning a path along my skin. Every time I try to explain, my eyes take their own action and open up a faucet letting them fall out all at once. These hits come so frequently I push everyone away without a second thought, trying to prevent any more collateral damage. I have killed enough people in my twenty-two years, I am just tired of having to pick up the pieces from the destruction I have caused. When will I be okay? At this point, I’ll settle for the sweet simplistic numbness.

    #numb #self deprecating humor #cant sleep#sleep deprived#help me#newpost#new blog#newblog#latinathoughts #food for thought #no tears left to cry #spilled tears#dark humor#3am thoughts #3 am feelings #anxiety
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  • occasionalsonder
    14.11.2019 - 1 year ago

    2 Then 3

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    It’s two am when I feel the most clear-headed. It’s the time where I desire, plan, and execute the most. It is the time I feel the most comfort and the most disappointment. I long for endless car rides down the highway listening to my 80s playlist just one more time. It’s the time I take my anger and sadness and just let it intensify for a few minutes before feeling my courage devour any insecurity. I can see the brightest of futures and endless possibility of a happier me… all this INTENSIFIED WANT for more in life…

    Then three a.m. hits.

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  • occasionalsonder
    02.04.2019 - 1 year ago
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  • studyindisasterology:

August 23, 2014
Human Canvas Project
Starry Night// Vincent Van Gogh
    occasionalsonder
    28.03.2019 - 1 year ago

    studyindisasterology :

    August 23, 2014

    Human Canvas Project

    Starry Night// Vincent Van Gogh

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  • studyindisasterology:

Solar System// 
12/29/14
New Project that I was inspired to do with some help from great friends
    occasionalsonder
    28.03.2019 - 1 year ago

    studyindisasterology :

    Solar System// 

    12/29/14

    New Project that I was inspired to do with some help from great friends

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  • studyindisasterology:

September 29. 2014 
Human Canvas Project 
    occasionalsonder
    28.03.2019 - 1 year ago

    studyindisasterology :

    September 29. 2014 

    Human Canvas Project 

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  • studyindisasterology:

October 1, 2014
Human Canvas Project
    occasionalsonder
    28.03.2019 - 1 year ago

    studyindisasterology :

    October 1, 2014
    Human Canvas Project

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  • The best art work I ever made (I think).  #art #artists on tumblr #artist#artwork#art work#artworld#art world #black and white #fall 201#senior#print#prints#printmaking#print making#series#story#elephant#print media
    occasionalsonder
    28.03.2019 - 1 year ago

    The best art work I ever made (I think). 

    #art #artists on tumblr #artist#artwork#art work#artworld#art world #black and white #fall 201#senior#print#prints#printmaking#print making#series#story#elephant#print media
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  • occasionalsonder
    27.03.2019 - 1 year ago

    A Small Checkpoint

    It was an unexpected moment when I captured this image. This was taken on my way to work and although the wind was relentless I stopped for a minute to literally soak in my surroundings. The sun rejuvenated my pores and I could feel the will to live returning one ray at a time. I recollect back to three years ago, cased in a grey blue cubicle spending one-third of my day in complete numbness. I couldn’t figure at the time why I was so miserable. The job ideally was the best thing to have happened to a 19 year old school drop out (history on this part of my life will come at a later time). I had a routine, hour lunch, vacation, and PTO hours. I mean I didn’t even know what half my benefits did. But non of those things would bring me satisfaction when it prevented the sun from kissing my face. Each day a little more of myself would recede into the corners of my mind and I kept running into a wall that I didn’t even realized I was building. A cage that had my dreams, passion, need to grow. I missed that hunger. Honestly after eight months of this, a fear began to multiply, believing I would be stuck in a path that was chosen without my consent and I didn’t know how to get out of it. Leaving was the best decision. It led to many different businesses and new faces. I was able to go back to school, which I discovered learning brought me comfort. 2016 was without a doubt the worst year of my life, but three years later I wouldn’t change a single choice I’ve made. It led to where I am today, a place I deemed unreachable. A place that led to this very aged framework. This building literally holds millions of dollars worth of art. Art that I get to observe and cherish every time I step onto its squeaky wooden floors. A corner of the city where knowledge never ceases. I have quit four jobs since this dark era and for once the thought of leaving this piece of architecture behind is not only unimaginable but unbearable. I feel more than satisfaction or  joy here, I feel blessed. 

    #new blog#newblog#occasionalsonder#latinathoughts#latinaguidetotheworld#aesthetic#art#building#newpost
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  • occasionalsonder
    25.03.2019 - 1 year ago
    All American Authenticity

    *edit: post made fall 2015*

    Visiting an “ethnic” food market or restaurant happens very frequently in my life, almost as if it were part of my daily routine. In a Hispanic household such as mine, we try to maintain as much of our culture as possible even from 500 miles away.  These places give a sense of home and warm hospitality that help the memory of the mother country to remain. The minor details could make anyone feel welcome, from the moment one steps through the doors; the various flavors fill the air with such a pure taste. Though there will always be differences in ingredients, many restaurant owners allow for their customers to feel the “true authenticity” of the Hispanic culture.  

    With the insight I have learned and discussed this week, Marie Sarita Gaytan’s “From Sombreros to Sincronizadas” article has opened up my mind thinking about what is the real definition of authenticity and what is considered not. I decided to visit La Tolteca, the usual place I’ve grown up loving to devour. Before analyzing what Gaytan had researched, I always believed this place was pure Mexican food. Compared to all the fast food restaurants, such as Taco Bell or Chipotle, this diner would pass as one hundred percent authentic. The colors, decoration, and the fresh food made this restaurant seem realistic to the customs used across the border. It embraced everything I’ve believed the Hispanic culture contained. I decided to step again at this once familiar place with a brand new set of eyes, to take what’ve I read and see for myself what authenticity means.

    While being seated I took a look around the room to observe whether the decorations made a big impact on the ethnic feel. Gaytan proclaimed that, ”’Symbols such as sombreros, zarapes, and piñatas, presented a limited version of Mexican identity, one that neglected to consider the “huge history of great art” produced and appreciated by Mexican people,”(323). I understood that no amount of colors, tapestries, or furniture would make the place feel traditional until the presence was filled with soul of true Mexican intention. Although an over exaggeration of décor won’t legitimize the restaurant, it does play a big role for the customers. It was pleasant to see that La Tolteca did acquire some adornment of the Mexican tradition without over bearing the customers of false stereotypes. This decision by the owner made the restaurant feel authentic by its appeal.

    I’ve also realized that part of the appearance of a true authentic diner involves the services. Greeted and complimented by Spanish speaking waiters allow the soul of the place to be enhanced. It permits for customers to fully experience the authenticity. I’ve compared restaurants I’ve previously dined in and I agree with the aspect that having services in Spanish allow me to go back into my roots. It allows me to connect with the ambience in a different cultural level than what I would experience if I had gone to IHOP. Gaytan states that, “customers described the ambiance of a restaurant in terms of people and not decor. Frequently commenting on the presence or absence of “Hispanic” or “Mexican” employees, the ability to interact with Spanish-speaking employees was a central means by which many assessed their experiences”(321). Many friends I’ve asked all praised the fact that Spanish is being interacted among each other, expanding a relationship of our culture between everyone.

    The food served is the greatest way to indicate whether the restaurant is fully authentic or not. The menu is the heart of the kitchen and the flavors of the food enhance the soul of the culture. I believe the greatest of dishes are those that come to the table still sizzling from the stove. The owner of Los Cabos explained in the interview that, “when I think about Mexican food I think about what kind of food you find at Mexican kitchens at home, not so much at a restaurant,”(322). I believe a genuine Mexican restaurant allows me to feel joy when seeing the food because it reminds me of the way my mother would bring the dishes to the table. The restaurant gives a warm embrace to its customers through the smell. The wait is worth it because the chief cooks each plate with flare and passion that is influenced by the ethnicity. The food connects body, soul, and mind with everyone in a common sense of home.

    Obviously this deliciousness of food is not exclusive to only Spanish speaking people, but it’s appearance and ambience is harsher judge because it is being compared to something else. As I looked around the entire room I noticed that most people who were at the tables, bars, waiting to be served were American. This observation isn’t much of a surprising aspect to consider knowing that to these restaurants are in the middle of a suburban environment. Even with differences in race I noticed that everyone seemed to enjoy the presence. The importance of these restaurants is not to have a barrier on who can eat the food but a sense of communion. One restaurant owner Gaytan interview stated, “‘the restaurant is full of warmth, of something that is common, that is family … If you and I are eating here, then we’re family’”(Gaytan 320). The purpose of this Hispanic ethnicity is to spread expression and passion of the culture through food, allowing everyone to experience what we so long to have from home.

    Growing up all my life in America I assume I am in part to blame for not knowing the true definition of authenticity. While asking my family who have visited our land they all replied that yes this food is good, but the taste is not the same as what they’ve previously experienced. I’ve come to understand that the concept of authenticity relies on a personal idea of what “authentic” means. This also goes along with the fact that as generations grow the difference in opinion and taste comes to play. What I’ve believed to be all-natural flavors my mother states that the dishes here will never reach the same traditional taste because of the ingredients that are obtained on US soil. This is one opinion that surely will change throughout society as new generations experience these foods. I believe as food culture expands and changes, authentic characteristics change making the argument of ethnicity to be opinionated by who is asking.

    #latinaguidetotheworld#latinathoughts#authencity#new blog#newblog#kmvaldez #food for thought #food#latin experience
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  • studyindisasterology:
Solar System// 
12/29/14
I took this picture and it came out pretty decent;
photoshop creds; simpleaurelie #latinaguidetotheworld#latinathoughts#new blog#old post#fall/winter 2015#solar system#fall 2014#body painting
    occasionalsonder
    23.03.2019 - 1 year ago

    studyindisasterology :

    Solar System// 

    12/29/14

    I took this picture and it came out pretty decent;

    photoshop creds; simpleaurelie

    #latinaguidetotheworld#latinathoughts#new blog#old post#fall/winter 2015#solar system#fall 2014#body painting
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  • occasionalsonder
    23.03.2019 - 1 year ago
    Como Agua Para Chocolate

    *edit: an old blog post I made for a UNI class back in 2015, definitely would love more people to read* 

    The only English Like Water for Chocolate contains is the name, but the good thing about food is that it is a language of its own. This film, filed with magical realism, was released in 1992 based on the popular novel that was first published in 1989 by Laura Esquivel. It became one of the highest grossing Spanish language film released in the United States during that time. From beginning to end the entire movie takes place in the kitchen, which becomes the highlight of the plot. It attracts the audience with warmth and color to make them feel as if they were in the same ambience as the protagonist.

    This story takes place in the United States-Mexico border in 1910, narrating the life of Tita de la Garza. The story is narrated in third person omniscient by Tita’s great grandniece whose name remains unknown.  She sets the scene explaining the significance and annoyance of crying while chopping onions, stating that she inherits her Aunt’s sensitivity. The narrator explains the beginning of Tita’s life in which Mama Elena, Tita’s mother, gives birth to her in the middle of the kitchen. Tita comes out a crying baby, foreshadowing her fate. Being that she was the youngest of the three sisters, Tita could not have the fortune of marriage for the Mexican tradition states she must to take care of her mother until death.

    Tita befriends a housemaid who teaches her all sorts of dishes. She grows up working in the kitchen loving it immensely, gaining control and talent to prepare the most delicious of foods. She serves the entire family and caters important events that are held in the ranch. At the age of 15 Tita meets a boy, Pedro, whom she falls in love with at first sight. As the years go on their secret love grows to the point where Pedro alongside his father asks Tita’s mother for her hand in marriage. Without consideration Mama Elena denies the offer but makes a compromise by giving up her eldest daughter Rosaura to wed. Pedro accepts this negotiation by explaining that he would marry only to be closer to Tita. Tita doesn’t see this as a solution and becomes heartbroken.

    Tita is overwhelmed with pain because she must prepare the wedding cake causing her to cry. Tears spill over onto the batter, which give the guest an unsettling stomachache, the first of many times where Tita’s emotion pass over to whoever eats her food. By the end of the day Tita is distraught not only for the loss of her love but also because the housemaid had also died.

    A year passes and Tita’s longing for Pedro grows immensely and because she is unable to touch him she infuses her emotions into the meal she prepares. This passion transfers onto her middle sister Gertrudis where she impulsively leaves the household and escapes with a revolutionary soldier. Rosaura gives birth to a baby boy whom Tita is the only one who can feed and nourish its needs. This brings Pedro closer to Tita, giving each other craving looks from across the room. Mama Elena sees through Tita’s innocence barking at her to stay far away from Pedro before she ruins the family name.

    At a gathering Tita meets a young American doctor named John Brown. He is intrigued by her kindness and beauty asking her if she’d ever marry. She denies saying that that is not an option for her. During a storm Tita and Pedro run into each other, finally stealing kisses in the middle of the night. Mama Elena suspects her whereabouts and ships Rosaura and Pedro far into Texas. Months pass while Tita still takes abuse from her mother’s harsh words leading to a day where there is news that the baby boy has died from malnutrition. This is the final straw for Tita where she then retires to an attic for days and becomes crazy in grief. Doctor Brown is called upon to take care of her with his son, months passing and her well-being not changing. At last with a visit from a house friend and a well-cooked traditional meal her strength was regain. During this time John fell in love with Tita eventually asking for her hand. Tita agreed knowing that she would never return to the ranch.

    As fate would have it, Mama Elena dies during an ambush making Tita return for her funeral where she reunites with Pedro and Rosaura once again. With all the grief Rosaura gives premature birth to a girl, but with all the blood loss she may never have a baby again. John must go for a few days leaving Tita to stay at the ranch. Pedro become jealous of her love for another and seduces her, taking away Tita’s virtue. For days ahead Tita feels guilty allowing her to interact with her dead mother, claiming that she is a shameful whore. Tita mistakes her anxious mind with a pregnancy, telling Pedro of a false hope and planning to run away. One night Mama Elena appears to disturb the peace making Tita fill with rage screaming at her mother that she has always hated her. With these words Mama Elena leaves but not without setting Pedro on fire. Pedro calls out for Tita and Rosaura become resentful. John returns and Tita is filled with fault and sadness, expressing what happened while he was away. He stated that he did not care what she’s done, all that matters is whether she wanted to continue on with the marriage, the choice was hers.

    The ending scene leads with an ambiguous tone, not allowing the audience to know of her decision immediately. There are all kinds of preparations for a wedding to take place. John is seen sitting at a table in a suit, but Tita is dancing happily with Pedro. It is 22 years later and Pedro’s daughter, Esperanza, is being married to John’s son. As Esperanza leaves with her husband Pedro and Tita run off into the now empty ranch. As they enter Tita sees her old housemaid setting up candles for the both of them. Tita and Pedro are free to consummate their love but in doing so Pedro dies in her arms. Filled with confusion and distraught she sets the house on fire. The narrator explains that all that was left was Tita’s cookbook. She states that Tita’s life would never die throughout generations because of her love of food.

    This story evokes that in the Spanish culture food is the best way to express feelings that cannot be said. Throughout the entire story the richness of flavors, colors, and knowledge brings all types of people together. In Spanish the quote “La vida sería mucho más agradable si uno pudiera llevarse a donde quiera que fuera, los sabores y olores de la casa maternal,” states that life would be sweeter if only the same richness of flavor from home could be taken anywhere. This expresses the desire and need of family that many traditions follow. Food is used as a way to remedy a broken heart or bring together a household.

    Tita states frequently that food only tastes as good as how much love is put into the technique. It determines how well the dish will be accepted by everyone. Many times, throughout the movie, Tita pours love, anger, sadness, and joy into her dishes and each time the people would feel all her emotions. I believe the meaning of food is the expression of oneself because the result will only be as pleasurable as the passion poured into making something great.

    #como agua para chocolate #water for chocolate #blog post#new blog#newblog#latinathoughts#latinaguidetotheworld #food for though #uni#class2015#summary#so what
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  • occasionalsonder
    23.03.2019 - 1 year ago

    Blog Starter *yay*

    To be completely honest, which I intend to be 98% of the time, I have no idea what the hell I am doing. Freshmen year of high school I discovered this platform but up until this day I haven’t utilized this site to its fullest except for the re-blog button. I’ve always assumed other people’s content was enough, certainly reposted their ideas instead of my own, but never believed I would finally publish an opinion for all to see. I definitely don’t expect this to blow up or to become a huge hit, but I have come to realize that my thoughts are too big for 240 characters and too broad to center around one theme, so if I can just lay it all out hopefully someone somewhere ends up stumbling onto this page. I came on here to give my two cents about anything and everything. I by no means have any expertise about the world, but I do have a massive interested in the complexity of it all. Life is too messy and complicated to go through it alone. There are 7 billion people who experience their day differently, and if I can relate to you as you can to me then I have made my difference one word at a time. 

    #adventures#new blog#latinaguidetotheworld#latinathoughts
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