Because Real Life is Better
Waking up to the pink tones of sunset! Taking some selfcare and a coffee, then back to bed.
Having a loved one join me for brunch! The rest of the day will most likely be wonderful after such a start. Perfection Isa’s not something I want.
I crave adventures memories health and abundance. These things often come from mistakes, oppsies and what is unplanned for.
🖤🖤🖤🖤
I’m a bit intense!
Not much more to say about this. Texting is not my preferred form of communication. People often misinterpret me.
I’m intense in person and worse in text . Love to my ALL CAPS PEOPLE!
This question immediately brings up gender inequality, memories, and the pursuit of happiness, for I am a woman who lives life by her own rules. I have always lived boldly I have always lived fiercely, but being female & a minority, I often have been treated as if this equates to lousy behavior. My boldness has been considered rude instead of a strength.
What is golden and admirable for one gender has been seen and socialized as rude for women minorities and other (they them) boldness is seen as too much and Over the top behavior. We should raise little girls to live a bold existence to have not only a passion for expression and this includes being able to say no without an explanation that is the confidence that is what we expect and respects about each other when I say no, but I also have to be apologetic, or embarrassed which I will not be! My no, it’s clear one word a bold no I live life boldly I pursue my dreams. Sometimes I get lost in this pursuit in a forest of Creative confusion. Still, amongst all of these choices, I have fought for the freedom to be a sassy, bold, wild woman. I have immigrated to countries where I am respected for my independence and expected to marry and bear children!
If you want to catch me on stage being bold, come to Sunday Slips open mic. Every Sunday no matter what! Or my solo show Allein!
Gratitude gratitude gratitude gratitude this is a daily practice I’ve been doing for a long time. Usually, I wait till the end of the night, and I write in my tiny little notebook the things that I’m grateful for in the day. There’s always repeat things, and they are days that have surprises
There’s a list of people I’m grateful for during this pandemic. These people have become even more critical to my mental health and physical well-being. My best friend Winton Kelly Stevenson is a person I cannot imagine my life without! My creative partner Marta Marquez woman has shared adventures with me since our early 20s, and now we are reliving that in Berlin in our 40s! My family checks in on me and brings me a sense of grounding. Even though they are far away, love is always felt. There are many more people I want to be grateful for, but this list is different.
Today, in particular, I am grateful that I was inspired to leave the house and visit a friend. It’s sometimes challenging to exit my apartment, my little sanctuary, a place that I am also grateful for. During the winter months, it’s easy to stay indoors for a more extended period. And now, with so many restrictions in place home is certainly where the heart is.
My cat!!!! Massive Geoforschung this little soulful companion
The transportation system in Germany and how well it is compared to NYC MIAMI OR MEDELLIN
Healthcare in Germany 🇩🇪 wow!!! I have health insurance and I love it!
I can keep going, but I’m going to stop now because I have to focus on other things that need to be done today, and I am grateful for the challenge of writing in my blog every day. Thank you for the daily prompts
Living in Europe for the past eight years, the most common assumption is my nationality. I’ve always been recognizably Latina. When I lived in New York City, people often thought I was Puerto Rican. But here they think I’m from Spain, France, Italy. The guesses go on and on and on and very seldom does someone assume that I am a Latina and, to be clear Colombian.
But what exactly is nationality? I can understand why I might look European to some. In the past eight years, I did not know that my skin could be as fair as I had not been in the sunshine or even at the beach. My skin tone varies so much depending on my proximity to the satellite. Well, I grew up in Miami and Medellin. my skin was caramelized and kissed by sunshine. My hair was curly and long, and my smile and attitude radiated Latina sassiness.
Throughout the years, I have come to believe nationalities are a construct and that in the end, we should all be fighting together for a better world and more quality of life for all. Stop Making assumptions about where people come from and start treating everyone the same rights; live a healthy life to access healthcare, food, education housing. One of the main reasons why I live in Europe where I live in Germany, to be precise. Berlin.This city has offered me a better life a better simple standard quality of life. And even though often people assume they know where I’m from, I feel welcomed most of the time. I am only exotic to you if you have a colonizer mentality. It’s not a compliment to call me exotic it is a strange and triggering word.
This is such a loaded question. I have so many insecurities in my writings, but most of these insecurities lead to significant challenges and the ability to grow and become a comedian. As a comedian, I had to take pen to paper repeatedly, develop my bets clean them up streamline the words. I’ve excepted the challenge, but that does not mean that I always enjoy it.
As a young child, what I most enjoyed was my beautiful handwriting. I went to a Catholic school, and the nuns made sure that we knew how to write in a very legible font how to make the letters the same size in the curves of a script, almost sensual. Very naughty undertones! I have taken on this blogging challenge to better my writings and enjoy my creative path more. At 44, in the middle of a pandemic, getting lost emotionally is easy, but this small and fantastic daily blog brings joy to a simple pleasure such as writing once again.
I don’t think anyone’s asked me this in a long time. Usually, I’m the one making other people laugh. I’ve been working as a standup comedian for the past 15 years all I guess I’ve honestly been working for the past ten years, and the first five were learning the craft becoming better. I’m still becoming better. In my opinion, I’m not even as close to my growth spurt as the people I admire in this career path. I laugh a lot at comedy shows when I see the greats.
That is just my life path. Laughter has made me understand tragedy and personal pain. But the moments where I laugh to the point where I might cry. The moments where I have to hold my stomach and fall to the ground because I’m laughing so hard, the moments when I almost Peed myself because I cannot control my laughter have almost always been with a close friend or one of my sisters. Where the silliness takes over the absurd unites us. We’re time seems to stop because the giggles are so strong that one cannot even breathe. These are usually moments about ridicule about mistakes about survival moments that no longer exist.
The last time I laughed like this was on Christmas dinner my friend Martini and I made eye contact and our cunty truth often brought us to tears of joy.
I am so grateful for all these moments. Sometimes we forget exactly what we were laughing about, but the memory of that connection of that deep, profound universal laughter of that healing sensation that is joy. I always welcome this time and time again.
This post prompt came 24 hours after my grandmother turned 100 years old! Reminiscing about her life as an immigrant as a woman, A mother, a daughter, a grandmother, a cousin, a hard-working income provider, a single parent all of these memories she has and not often shares with us. Still, with age, she’s become softer. She’s become kinder to herself and others. It has me thinking a lot about how much she has inspired my life as an artist, traveler, and woman who speaks her mind.
When I was growing up, my grandmother was very strict, and she said things that were cruel with laughter included. I remember one time my sisters and I were getting ready to go out, and she walked into the bathroom singing a song that said, the children of my daughters will my grandchildren be, but the children of my sons in doubt will remain. This was such a strange moment because my sisters and I looked identical to my dad. He looks just like her. When I look at her face, I see my reflection. When I see pictures of her in her youth, I see myself my beauty, my big lips, and round eyes, my smile, my hair texture, my body type…
I remember a powerful woman who lived alone and would take no shit from anyone. I remember a powerful woman who had found sanctuary in the Catholic Church to relieve herself of her shame. A shame that was imposed by society upon women who are independent women who left their cheating lying husbands women who wanted more for their children and themselves. I can only imagine the trauma she must’ve gone through in such a strange error when women were nothing without a man. When I visited my grandmother and her daughter three years ago, maybe for now, with the pandemic, I can’t tell its Time goes. They often remind me that I am nothing without a man. I respond, then what are you if you’re to widows? I don’t see a man inside, but I see two strong women.
My grandmother, the last one of her siblings, be alive! A woman who made me beautiful dresses when I was a child to set me aside from the rest to stand out to know fashion and style and the power of wardrobe! A woman who began hugging her children in her 80s. A woman near-death is smiling and laughing and telling us all stories about how difficult her life was. A woman that I see healing before making the next transition in life. She inspires me because she kept herself true she kept evolving although these changes were small, they have been significant. I am so grateful to be Leonor Jaramillo’s granddaughter!
I wish I could play multiple instruments. I often wish that I could sit somewhere and be a one-man-band. I see people with live stations. In particular, I see the very talented artist Winton Kelly Stevenson inspiring me with music. But I haven’t found a rhythm within this tiny box of petals, a rhythm with my hands and my voice of rhythm that is different than all the rhythms I’ve understood in dance. I can create flow with my body; I can create movement with my feet with my limbs.
So I have begun to practice Bass approximately once a week, which is not enough, not often enough. But I love that deep sound vibrating into my heart and slapping the base with my fingers and understanding the connection. I’m starting to see that with an instrument, one dances, one connection and the instrument dances back. I have a sexy bass she was a gift she has my name on her!
So today, I will take this opportunity and the inspiration that this blog challenge has created in me as I fulfill my first #Bloganuary entry! I will play and dance my fingers across the neck of the bass. I will keep learning until I know how to do that, which I wish I could do!
I wish I could play multiple instruments. I often wish that I could sit somewhere and be a one-man-band. I see people with live stations. In particular, I see the very talented artist Winton Kelly Stevenson inspiring me with music. But I haven’t found a rhythm within this tiny box of petals, a rhythm with my hands and my voice of rhythm that is different than all the rhythms I’ve understood in dance. I can create flow with my body; I can create movement with my feet with my limbs.
So I have begun to practice Bass approximately once a week, which is not enough, not often enough. But I love that deep sound vibrating into my heart and slapping the base with my fingers and understanding the connection. I’m starting to see that with an instrument, one dances, one connection and the instrument dances back. I have a sexy bass she was a gift she has my name on her!
So today, I will take this opportunity and the inspiration that this blog challenge has created in me as I fulfill my first #Bloganuary entry! I will play and dance my fingers across the neck of the bass. I will keep learning until I know how to do that, which I wish I could do!
Freudian Slip Club