Desk Diaries and More.

 Living your life in a life that is not your own is an interesting feeling. Technically, it is still my life, and it is the life of my Chilean family as well.  I do not own this desk, the mug of tea or the lamp; but in the sense of the word, this is still my desk. Or was still my desk, for I am now moving to a new Chilean house where all of the things that don't belong to me will feel like new presents that certainly temporarily belong to me. Like the Desk Diaries, welcome to a little sliver of my daily routine and the place that I temporarily called my own. 

My desk and room in general were not capable of being messy for two reasons,  I don't have enough stuff to have it laying all over the place and 2 

my closet was so neat and fancy, and it mostly stayed like that

my calendar marking one important thing about the day, then sealing it with a wind rose stamp of traveling approval

goodbye desk by the window, who knows when I will have another spot like this, the answer is never. we take one place at a time and don't forget about it. to forget your own journey is tragedy in itself

the only things one truly needs to survive life in Chile, or anywhere as a matter of fact

what a normal dinner looked like because I always ate alone

there were multiple reasons that I had to move locations and find a new chilean house and family. But regardless, here I am on a new adventure, ready and not so ready to leave and readjust to everything that I once knew here. sometimes even if things aren't happy and positive, at least there is a routine in that, and leaving to new uncharted waters, well, I've always hated to swim. 

So here is my send off to the house on Condell street where I once had a month long stay, full of Maria Jose climbing on me and playing uno, Carlos telling me that girls here dont wear their hair like I do and that the men on the street are going to steal my $5 rubber watch, Claudia always asking me how I am and then walking away before I can say anymore than 'bueno,' Jaime making seafood and pisco sours on the weekends while smoking in the kitchen that I could taste in the food, getting food poisioning/stomach virus, seeing Vicente walk past me everyday and never understand that if we listen to the same music, we must be best friends, Rosita Manchita the orange tabby cat that joins me for morning walks, the man with glasses and dark curly hair that I make eye contact with every time I walk past his gourmet frozen food store, Laranza creating 5 yearold Maria Jose a facebook page and getting her into trouble, waiting for the metro every day, walking past the fresh fruit market man or Bimbo and not buying anything, slowly loosing my clothing in the washing, trying to find something to eat when everyone has already went to bed at 19:30, eating all the fruit in the house, waiting for 45 minuets to use the bathroom when I really have to pee, walking along Diego Portales and finding the beautiful lookouts to the sea. 

So it is with hesitation that I say I am SO EXCITED to move, because there will be some things that I truly miss, a lot. But here is to new changes and the decision has been made so here I go.

"I've been waiting for you..."

adios, 

rachael

Leaving the US: Vlog #1

I'll be making one more before i leave because these are easier to make than a normal blog considering how spaced out and wacked out my mind is right now. happy thursday!

love,
hills

today does not belong to me

I have a tidal-wave of words that are stuck in my brain and tingling in my hand. I cannot write them fast enough. Thoughts about religion and people and moving and staying and leaving and arriving and being and disappearing and politics and right and wrong and left and right and write has been last on that list.

So what does one do when they are tongue-tied twisted? Well, we use the words of another. Or at least I do, this could be a cop out, call me a liar, call me a fake, but if it is with pure intent (see article below) what can go wrong, right?

I am feeling a little bit selfish. Before blogging was cool, this man had a blog. He inspired me to start my own blog (not this one) And as much as he inspired me, I am afraid he will inspire you too, and can two people have the same inspiration. Well, of course they can. But it's human emotion to think you lay claim to something, like taking over native land, or claiming this blog is 'mine' because it was written by a friend of mine's far distant cousin. I have never met this mysterious hIrSch and probably never will.

So here I am, sharing with you my personal writing inspiration, but the action is not pure of heart, it makes me feel better to do something hard, even if I don't want to. Can hIrSch relate?

friday, april 11th 2008

and it's not only the chain because there was a cup too and here's the story of the cup and i was drinking tea with these very kind men and they were all smoking and i was coughing and they had so many questions (and me with no answers) but the bulwark of the language barrier allowed none of them to be asked and that's how it goes and so i just sat there sipping the tea and then this man gets up and he goes into a nearby shop and comes out with the saddest insulated red mug you could ever imagine and he walks right up to me and gives it to me and i have no use for it and don't want it at all because it's just another thing and i hate all these things because life becomes full of things.

we just constantly go out and buy things and the only things i ever want to buy are items of food because this is the only thing i need because with duct tape and some needle and thread you can repair any thing you already have so you don't need more of them and so i just don't like things and curse each and every thing i have and have recently really begun contemplating just getting rid of all these disgusting things i have and just leaving it all behind and going and feeling that freedom of disengagement from things but i don't yet have the nerve so he comes right up to me with that red cup and hands it to me and as i just explained i don't want it and initially i try to kindly refuse it but then i realize, and i say to myself, hirsch, it's not about whether you (i.e. i) want or need this cup it's about the fact that this man wants to give it to you, it's something he wants to do and so just take the thing because by doing so you will make him happy and that is what it's all about.

so i took the cup and lashed it down with a bungee and he was so pleased and that man and that cup taught me something and i cycled off - but the story of the cup continues - because i cycled off and the fact that i didn't need or want this cup had not changed and a couple of clicks down the road i saw this sad little school boy standing on the side of the road perhaps waiting for a bus or perhaps meditating and i pulled over and kicked my kickstand and unlashed the cup being careful with the bungee because a man in norway told me more people go blind from getting whap-bap-schlapped in the eye with the end of a bungee than for any other reason and i walked up to that little boy hoping he was just waiting on a bus and not meditating because if he were meditating he might have been on the brink of samadhi and were i to interrupt that there would be no forgiveness for me (which there might not be any forgiveness for me anyway) and i held out that cup and as soon as i did and he realized what was happening and he saw how shiny and how round and how red that cup was and how that that cup was no longer mine but was now his well that sad little boy was happy and he smiled and he looked around a bit nervously (i, for some reason, make people nervous which is another (of many) contributing factor of my need to be alone) and i smiled and for some reason sort of bowed (because i think he had reached the level of samadhi) 

then i cycled away and then, post facto of course, i realized what i had done was "bad" or at least misrepresented because that kid doesn't fully understand (as you do) the source of that cup, he doesn't understand that i did not give him that cup out of the goodness of my heart but out of my non-need for it and how really i was doing myself a favor rather than doing one for him and so i began to feel awful about the cup because even though it made a sad boy happy the source of that happiness was not purely driven.

(all photos were STOLEN from hIrSch's blog) 

thoughts to think about, 

rach (and hIrSch)

Artist of the Day

 So this band and song came on my Mumford and Sons Pandora station. Very appropriate, considering that they have a very mumford-ish sound.  This particular choice is called Ho Hey by The Lumineers. They are just entering the music world with their new self titled album in stores fairly recently. I find myself listening to this song on repeat lately, which I am totally okay with.

Be The Makers of Music and the Dreamers of Dreams.
Megs

Atempto de un "Vlog"

don't let it go,
rach

Shout out: http://kalobgriffinband.com/   http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Kalob-Griffin-Band/181399394825

Stand Up

Education and politics have been on my mind recently. Well, lets be honest, they are often on my mind. But after settling into the swing of things at PUCV, I have started to pick up on cultural cues that suggest that Chileans (South Americans in general) go about their education differently.

Take for example the student riots going on in Santiago over their demands for a new framework for their education system. There haven't been any new public universities build since the Pinochet revolution and their is little to no support for student grants and loans for the expensive private schools. PUCV participates in their own educational marches in Vina y Valpo. I plan on attending one of these marches soon to gain even more new perspective.

We can think back to my blog post about my dear Culture and Communications profe and how he is inspiring a new outlook on culture for non-natives (I dislike the use of the word foreigners). Our newest homework assignment is to write a poem, based on the Pablo Nerudian description of personal characteristics with out being obvious. Carlos' example:

I have some grey hair.   LAME

And onto my head falls a gentle dusting of snow. NERUDIAN

I am still working on my poem, but also during our class we watched a powerful video that inspired not only me to jot some thoughts down. Mi soon-to-be hermana, la Meghan wrote about it in her blog post. And while you are there, just take a little gander; she has some great things to say. 

This poem was written during class and finished on the bench waiting for the metro station. 

No Importa

No importa que lengua hablas con su boca
Ni importa que cosa trabajas con sus manos
Ni importa que color tienes en su piel
Ni importa el tamaño de su billetero 
Ni importa la ubicación de su casa
Ni importa la ropa que llevas 

La única importancia es su tiempo y que haces cuando nadie te ve.


For all of the non Spanish readers out there, I also fabricated a poem in English as well.

Someday


Someday, the sea will reach out to me, 
Take my hand; offer me a cup of tea. 

Someday, the land will lift me up, 
Pour more wine into a half empty cup. 

Someday, the sky will lend me air, 
Send down white clouds while I sit and stare.

Someday, the mountains will give me a plot, 
Of land to plant some forget-me-nots. 

Someday, the world will take a stand, 
And I will be there, holding her hand


The world has a way of helping us understand others through the arts. I don't know what it feels like to not have the opportunity to go to college. Heck, I am going to two colleges! I don't know what bombs sound like, destroying my city and loved ones. I don't know what it is like not be able to voice and type my opinions with out extreme censorship.

But I do know what it feels like to care. I do know what it's like to get goose bumps during class, when we are talking about educational reform. I do know how frustrated I get when American students who are handed everything on a silver platter, would rather skip class and hold no value in their education.  I do know how it feels to cry over the minor riots in South Africa, the drug cartel violence in Mexico, the explicit monotone voices of news reporter after reporter give a death toll, take a sip of their coffee and move on to the next homicide report.

And just maybe, while not physically acting to remove this violence, these little poems can just bring a small bit of peace back into humanity.

find out what it feels like,
rach

A New Addition

As requested by Rach via skype, my very first Indie Attic blog post. Here we go:

Indie Attic. Version 2.0. The new addition would be...drum role please...me! I'm very new to the whole blogging scene so it will take me a little while to fully get into the swing of how all of this work. Patience, okay? Okay! FIrst off, I am so super excited to be fully moved in and completely organized in my new home that is the Indie Attic. I'm also very excited that Hill is here for a couple of days before she, like the other two indie attic occupants, leaves the country and explores the world that is Scotland. As jealous as I am that she is going to be where I was just last summer, I can't wait for her to experience all the greatness that is Scotland.

As much as I am sad to see Hilly go after getting used to her being here, I can't wait for her return as well as the return of Kelc and Rach. ( approximately 81 days, 12 hours, 21 minutes, and 45 seconds until Rach and Kelc come home and 121 days 12 hours 20 minutes and  52 seconds until Hilly come home) Thank you Google Countdown for being so exact! I am highly looking forward to the excitement and epic reunion of sorts that will occur come next semester when they are back in the States and more importantly, filling up this massive room so I dont have to look at a bunch of empty furniture anymore!

As for me, I will spend much time crafting and decorating, getting ready for the epicness that will be the Indie Attic 2.0. So be prepared for many-a-pinterest crafts and whatever else I stumble across that seems worthy that will be blogged about in the near future.

Dream On.
Megs