Words Tickle Me

It's words like cake, snack, and pea protein that giggles my insides. Cake sounds like a dense and moist word. Like, if there weren't a silent e, then it would be cak, and that sounds weird. What is cak? Cake is so smooth, like spreading frosting on cake. It's comforting. With adjectives, like "sponge" cake makes me want to bake a huge one and jump on it. Or, use it like a sponge to see how absorbant it really is. Yum, I'd like a piece of moist chocolate cake. So many flavors, so many names, can't I just have one piece of cake?! Please!

Now, snack is definetely the opposite of cake. Snack sounds quick and stops abruptly. It's much easier to scream SNACK because snack raises your voice. It's like climbing a hill. "I need a snack." It's short, simple, sweet, and salty. Pretzels, baby carrots, and fruit gummies all make a snack. Because everyone needs a short, quick way to satisfy our (mental) hunger pains.

Now, why pea protein? Well, peas have been used for tens of years for professional bullying purposes. Such as, "pea brain". Peas are not a very superior vegetable. But, to the nutritionally unaware, peas may be smarter than your brains. It's packed with protein, which build your mitochondria with fuel to make more cells. In the long run, eating your peas gives you healthy cells, including your brain cells. When sold in protein alone, such as in powder form, you would think it wouldn't compete with the other protein buffs, such as soy protein and whey protein. You think pea protein wouldn't stand a chance. Well, bird brains, by which have lots of protein because they eat lots of nuts, pea protein gives you as much energy as your super soy because peas are not heavily genetically modified and processed. You wouldn't think peas would compare, well tough, it does. Great for vegans who need extra protein when working out. Try pea protein! And, if someone calls you a pea brain, remember to say thanks for the complement because you've got the power.

Tune in next time for another Words Tickle Me by Tatiana Vargas-Caba

Books are Fun

Winter 1996: There was an event at my church. While the adults were in the service room, us kids were on the other side being watched by caring mothers who chose to watch over us roudy children. My sister and I being very gullible seven-year olds, we were asked by the older kids what we do for fun. We pulled out books we borrowed from the library and said our dad told us to bring books so we wouldn't get bored. They told us to put it away because it was stupid. We sadly listened.

When my sister worked at Pac Sun, there were these very young girls walking in with very heavy makeup on. She asked how old they were and they said, "Thirteen, no wait, twelve."

Kids these days think reading is boring and following "adult" like figures are way awesome. Okay, what's wrong with reading? It wasn't until now at my young adult age where I saw reading is so cool and I want to write a book but don't know where to start. My father just finished a book after writing it for thirty years. BEAR: Flight to Liberty.

These days, there are so many books and thousans of topics, how can it be easy to choose what you want to read? Stories, how to's, non-fiction, facts, information, gosh there's so much more. It's like when someone asks you what are your interests and your mind goes blank. And, there are books for teens that talk about real life instead of what stupid thing your favorite celebrity did. I've read the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and the other three books following.

Lately, I've been reading those Harlequin novels. I know, it's a dirty book. I haven't picked one up in a month. Lost interest, I guess. It was always the same topic: A common woman gets encountered with a foreign man who's a prince and they've been captured for some reason and couldn't be released. So, during that time, they fall in love and once the spell was broken, they get married and have children. The end. Yay.

Kids are being sucked into begging their parents to buy them Wii, Twinkies, and the latest gadget available at your local Toys R Us, only because they bring happiness to your child's eyes. If you tell them we're taking a family trip to Barnes and Noble, they'll cry and scream and hide in their video game hut. When I was ten, going to Barnes and Noble was a picnic.

So why not head over to your local libray or bookstore? Books are an entertainment for your mind. You get to dream how the characters you want them to look like instead of watching a movie like Dark Knight and say the character for his girlfriend was too old. The more you read, the more you know. Documentaries can totally inform you, but you can't carry it with you. Grab a good book and read it outside in the warm sun. A slight of encouragement doesn't hurt.

I can't write anymore. I need to grab a book.

Love is Life

For those who know me, I recently graduated from beauty school and am a NY licensed esthetician. An esthetician is someone who performs facials, waxing, body treatments, and sometimes makeup. They occupy jobs at spas. Well, I became one so I can get a much better job than working at a store, such as Mandee. Please, don't remind me. I honestly think for all you Mandee shoppers that they are doing illegal stuff, such as a New York State law broken: If working during a five hour period, you may have breaks ten minutes in each hour or have a full thirty minutes for your term. At Mandee, every seven hours you get thirty minutes... and that's it. I shouldn't complain because at Pretty Girl, you only get thirty minutes lunch for your work period and if the new shipment comes, you just lost your lunch and have to get up and organize the clothes. That really sucks. Slavery. It's upsetting how these people have no love for others. Love is the only thing that makes your life better.

I have a hard time loving people. Like the people from middle school and high school who have dumped a heaping dose of racism on my shoulders, to the people from Word of Life how they would screw with my mind about God, sex, and living life, and finally to my time at beauty school when there were days I wanted to quit because of extreme favoritism, constant blames, and feeling like I wouldn't succeed in life. I felt like crap.

Like, how can people do that? Where is the love? Why do people make a big deal about attitudes? Why must I be forbidden from sex? These questions pop up in my mind so many times. I have a really hard time letting go from my bad times. I talk a lot about how I felt hurt by my teacher or constant story time to my boyfriend about what happened to me at Word of Life. And honestly, everytime I talk about that, I don't have love. I have hate. I want to hurt them. I want to eat them for dinner. I want to say they don't deserve to live. But, being the way I am, I don't. It's fear mixed with compassion. I'm afraid to hurt them because after I whack them, I would feel like a monster. A hatred monster. A continuous carry on of hatred.

Love is what gets me by through life. God's love, my mother's love, my sister's deep hidden love, my family's love, my boyfriend's love, all for me. I do love them, but honestly, if I don't love other people, then I don't love my loved ones, and myself. God tells me to love my enemies. Without love, people wouldn't survive. I know I wouldn't.

I don't get it, how can you love and hate someone at the same time? It's a horrible feeling. I want to love, love, love. I need to stop asking questions. I need solutions. I need to love others more. That would be my choice of path. I love you, whoever you are. Maybe we'll never meet, but I want to let you know that I love you and God takes you to a good walk. Yes, maybe that would make my life easier.

Stereotypes

I am a fruit. An exotic nut that can only be found in the Carribean. To an American's mind, Carribean is a getaway to another world of tropical paradise. I am of Dominican descent and I do love where my ancestors are from. I am a Dominican York, someone who is of Dominican descent, but was born in New York.

Despite of my background, I dream of escaping from trains and icky smelling petroleum that this city spews and venture through basically, paradise. I do believe tropical countries are paradise. The beaches have such white sand that gleams like a diamond and water that is so clear, stress doesn't exist. Something a day spa can't fix for a whole day.

Though I love where I'm from, it seems as though people in this country don't appreciate it. Dominicans have a stereotype of having a certain attitude and having dark skin. I am quite the opposite. I have very light skin and said I behave like a white girl. I've been confused for Jewish, Italian, White American, Puerto Rican, South American, Japanese, and Middle Eastern. I don't know where these people come up with these things, but I guess they refuse to believe I'm Dominican just by the way I am.

I can be shy or I can be a monkey. I decide on my mood and surroundings. I am a very random person. My skin color is light, and the African American and other Hispanics that went to middle and high school with me will totally agree with you, but the people in Upstate New York would disgress, because they would convince themselves first and then me that I am darker than them. Let's get this straight: WHO CARES?!?!?! God made me this way, so why can't we love what God has done? Don't you love God? If you love your friend and she made you a lovely bracelet, wouldn't you love it? It hurts when your own Dominicans refuse to believe your heritage all because you don't hail the stereotype.

The media has taken Hispanics as these people with weird accents, tan skin, and common names, like Juan and Maria. Well, my name is Tatiana, it's Russian, but, I'm not Russian, I'm Dominican, but my father speaks Russian like we speak English, but, he's still Dominican. But, but, but, silly word keeps coming into my way and making others believe that I'm making this stuff up. Would you like to stop by my house for a day? I'll make you a cup of tea. Maybe you'll see if you believe me. The media refuses to believe my side of the story because they're making crap loads of money off of this stereotype. They show us as dirty dancing people, and not that movie Dirty Dancing, the other side of dirty dancing. Where I break it down and drop it like it's hot. And that I'm a slut and have unprotected sex and end up pregnant. My high school has a day care, and the babies are the students, not the teachers.

This past Mother's Day, I was walking around the cards section to look for a lovely card to my dear Mamí. I had to get it in Spanish because she wouldn't understand it in English. Obviously. Mostly, the Spanish cards had all this Catholic crap as if every Hispanic mother believes Mary will get her to heaven. Only one card just talked about God without Catholic stuff and it was the one I got for her. She loved it. Hello, not all Hispanics are Catholic. I don't go to mass. I don't need to. I am saved through the blood of Jesus Christ and therefore, I can read the true Holy Bible and don't need a superior other than God to translate it for me.

All this rounds out to the fact that why doesn't everyone just love each other? Not caring about color, race, or anything that can separate. Though I went through racism and prejudice, I don't hate any culture. I love everyone. Love is the only thing that can take the hate away. Jesus loves everyone. God loves everyone. Let's all love. All we need is love. Take it away, Beatles...

Reality

Haven't you ever heard how the Bronx is so bad and your friends that live in the East Village who are actually from nowhere town USA suddenly move to the fake NYC to attend NYU paid by their rich parents, say that they can never enter the Bronx and they don't do "borough" based on what they've heard? Well, how ignorant of them to know that once upon a time, living in the East Village was for the poor and the Bronx was for the very wealthy. A major street in the Bronx, The Grand Boulevard and Concourse, or officially known as Grand Concourse, has the most majestic buildings in all boroughs. I'm sorry, but Brooklyn is the ugliest borough, no matter what the money eating hipsters say. Living on the Grand Concourse was like living in Park Avenue today. If you've walked there, don't you notice the fantastic details on the buildings only the rich could afford? Don't you notice in the East Village, SoHo, and TriBeCa, how all the buildings look the same, except for the newly constructed ones based on gentrification?

Yes, Upper East and West Sides have always been for the rich. Washington Heights was also for the rich, and so was Inwood. When you cross the George Washington Bridge coming in to New York, haven't you noticed the buildings that occupy Washington Heights are more beautiful than your squished building Downtown? Basically, the rich have always taken opposite sides to stay as far away from the poor as possible. Just like how the rich went from being the most pale faced mummies, to the darkest burnt corpses by frying their skin from tanning. It was said that since the poor was always outside working, they developed darker skin. The rich was always inside because they were too rich to work and because of that, they developed pale skin. But, when the Industrial Revolution came about and the poor were locked into giant dark factories, their skin turned very pale and the sign of richness was doomed. After Coco Chanel came back from a Mediterranian getaway, the tan became a craze based on sexiness and value of wealth. You were rich enough to relax outside on a beach and soak in some sun, while your dad's company hired a vast majority at a sweatshop. One small change can revolutionize the social class.

My life has always been opposite. I never understood it. Like, when a family member of mine doesn't want to take a picture with us, our aunt would blame my sister and I (we are twins). They call us odiosa, which I don't have a translation in English but it isn't a nice word to call someone. Or whenever I think about the worst of something, the outcome is excellent. If someone tells me to think the best of something, the result is bad. But, if I think it's going to be incredibly boring or it will be a bad time, the end is the best day. It might be Murphy's Law soaked into my soul.

My name is Tatiana and I'm from the Bronx. I love the history of New York City, especially the Bronx and Downtown Manhattan. I frequently write about everything and anything I want. I have notebooks filled with pages of my fresh mind. I read and read and read. I love to read. I love theater, ballet, filmmaking, and anything related to the arts. I is a selfish word. It brags about me, which doesn't want me to talk about you. You makes me feel equal. This is a little introduction about myself based on reality. Call it journaling, blogging, it's just writing to me. This is how I view my world. How about yours?