which i really do, they’re just so damn pretty that sometimes you don’t want to eat it!! Anyway back to the topic of conversation, hello how have all you’ve been? Well this post is more or less a continuation of the previous subject of lovely chalk and blackboard. If you haven’t seen it check it out here. This little pet project was started by myself and the lovely karla, being in a art environment you would’ve thought people would have more respect but apparently this was not the case as during the last week i had to keep cleaning the board constantly from people who can’t keep their hands to themselves. Therefore we decided that we would just wipe the board completely and remove the quote, however before we started this i decided to play with the board a little bit since we were cleaning it anyway and below is the final outcome of a collaboration between a few different people in the class. Myself (swirls), Karla(cupcake), Allister (flower) and Heather (snowflakes and snowmen.) It’s nothing spectacular a bit overcrowded and inconsistent with the subjects but hey a little fun never hurts right?

Clique na imagem para acessar as fotos.

Karla e Ewerton,
“Seis anos de namoro”…
Um casamento planejado
para viverem juntos eternamente.
Parabéns!

Mary Meneses

In his last post, Mike made it abundantly clear that he owns this blog, although I thought it was mine for several weeks!  He asked me to post a guest blog several days ago with one stipulation:  it is not to be about him!

So what on earth could I possibly talk about?  Other than dealing with Mike’s ongoing health issues (Oops!  I did not follow the stipulation.) the current issue requiring most of my attention is forcing Luke to get college applications done and getting my part finished.  He is only applying to a few schools, so it’s not like it should be that time consuming.  Alas, that is not the case!

As the teacher and guidance counselor, I have quite a few forms to fill out.  To make it worse, the Common Application has a huge homeschool supplement.  They even want to know why we started homeschooling.  What could that possibly have to do with Luke’s preparedness for college?  That was twelve years ago!  The other part that irritates me is that the homeschool supplement asks for all of his courses, grades, and curriculum used.  I included that in the required transcript, so I’m not sure what the point is.

This has been a rather difficult thing for me to do.  How can I write an entirely honest recommendation of my son?  What I have going for me is that we have never been people to offer our children praise unless it is due, think telling kids who just lost a basball game 20-o that they did a good job.  On the other hand, who better than me to make a case for Luke being a good college student?

Luke is also on the test of the month plan.  ACT in October, SAT in November, and SAT Subject Tests in December.  I’m glad I’m not him!  Guess who gets to get up early to drive him in for all these tests?  Anyone out there want to meet me for breakfast on Saturday, sometime after 8?

This is also a very bittersweet thing.  I know that Luke is ready for this.  I think that he is going to love the academic environment of college.  But he wants to be a chemical engineer.  One school told us to expect them to be gone for good once they start college, as they need to do internships.  Right now his top choice is the University of Minnesota, so at least he will only be 4 hours away.

The other thing on my mind is illness.  Everyone is freaking out about H1N1.  We have a family at our church who had very serious cases in the whole family.  So Jared gets a cold and slight fever this weekend.  How do I know if it’s more than a cold?  The H1N1 info on the internet sounded like it could look like a common cold or much worse.  We have 7 people in our family!  We can’t just stay home until no one has a runny nose.  We might never get out!  At the same time, I don’t want to be responsible for giving the flu to someone.  So, I’m reliving my epidemiology days from grad school.  I washed my hands so frequently that I think Mike was seriously concerned that I was becoming obsessive-compulsive!  Elisabeth seems to have inherited this trait from me.

That’s it from the Evans’ house.  We are enjoying our family and relatively good health.  We are trying to make the most of the time before Luke leaves.  God is good!

Eu amo o blog da Karla. Ela sempre tenta fugir do normal combinando muito vintage com peças super atuais. Confesso que ela é a culpada por eu já ter pensado inúmeras vezes em cortar meu cabelo curtinho assim. Nesse look de hoje: vestidinho preto de bolinhas roubado do closet da vovó, colarzão com algumas poucas pérolas e, é claro, o poder personificado, um sapato alto Prada. Pronto, tá rycka. Vai lá amiga, ver um filminho com o boyfriend. Beijo e me liga.

crédito: Karlascloset

When Dreams Become, What Dreams Become

By Karla

I could see a Taco Bell and a Pawn Shop from my parent’s bedroom window. That window and street corner shaped my world view for a very long time. It wasn’t the safest place and playing outside was rarely an option. In those years, that street corner filled me with the desire to run. I created castles and never dreamed that I would ever really see any. I was 14 when we moved into a better neighborhood, and that first night, I begged them to let me take my mattress into my own room. Nothing, in that moment, seemed more important than to sleep in my own space for the first time in my entire life. So there I went dragging my little twin mattress and blanket into my first sanctuary. Even at 28, I have such a clear memory of that night. I can remember the feeling of dropping the mattress next to the window and plopping myself on top of it. It was January in Southern California, so it was cool, but not frigidly cold. I looked out at the sky and smiled when I saw an airplane fly past the window. Airplanes. I could see airplanes from my window. Score. I felt so much joy.

There I sat, for hours and hours, transfixed at the thought of where these people might be going. I made up countless stories that night about the passengers on those planes and what was waiting for them when they landed. Sitting there, dreaming up other people’s realities, I could have never fathomed what would become of my own. I made a list that night. A mental list, I would write down a week later, of all the places I would go. I wanted to drop rose petals off the Eiffel Tower, I wanted to sing on a street corner in France, sit on a beach in Spain drinking chocolate milk, see the Vatican and say an Our Father, visit Greece and think the phrase “It’s all Greek to me!”, eat an apple on an overnight train in a foreign country (I’m not making this up, I thought apples would taste better that way, who knows), see a cheesy pop concert in London, see a real castle, visit some ruins (no ruins in particular, just ruins), listen to someone speak with a real southern accent, and the list went on and on. I had 23 different things I wanted to see, hear, speak, feel, taste, touch, and live. The list felt so grandiose, it made me cry that night. I thought I was dreaming things that were out of my reach but I swore to myself, I would at least get on an airplane one day. I fell asleep somewhere around 2am that night staring at the immensity of a black sky.

Six years later, January of 2000, I am studying abroad in Spain; financial aid, a scholarship, and a couple loans have allowed me the grace of many opportunities abroad. My spring break, which lasts about a month, is spent on a massive backpacking trip. My first destination in that trip is Greece. Though there are many stories I’m sure I will tell about that trip in the future, this is the one that I think should start my semi-regular relationship with you, dear reader.

I was hiking up the trail to see the Acropolis. The crazy and unique part of the trail at this time – though these gorgeous ruins are a huge tourist attraction – was that batches of handmade signs in backyards point you in the right direction. I’m incredibly amused at this point, near laughter at how sweet I think that is. I pause to tie my shoe at some point and look around. Suddenly, I can see all of Athens below me. I look up and for the first time I can actually see the ruins. These temples, that existed thousands of years before my own country, above me. My breath catches in my throat and all I can think is, “my list said I wanted to see ruins.” There with the temple of Zeus above me and a city of people below me, I start to cry. Sob to be exact. The words “I got out, I got out, I got out,” just tumble away from me as my shoulders shake and a weight that I didn’t even know existed, was lifted. I knew, that day, that life would never be what I feared. Even with those many beautiful dreams that had come true before then, it was the first moment my might heart leapt to believe my list would be completed. My world view would no longer be shaped by that street corner alone. That night, in the first room I could call my own, on the first bed that I had slept in alone, I didn’t create dreams – I created plans. Now, I get to share what those plans did to my life, with you.

I don’t know anyone that doesn’t love Carla, this beautiful t-girl gets more gorgeous everytime I see her. She has the the looks of a high fashion model and a cock that would make a horse happy. Watch as she strokes that monster cock until it bursts a huge load of heavy jizz cream.

pics – videos

Summary

• reviewed the pieces each member submitted for the project proposal
• confirmed the locations that we will submit to
• planned for a group field trip on friday

Tasks

Karla

Write up introductory material for the proposal. Something along the lines of who we are and what our intentions are regarding the spaces we are submitting to. Very sort, just a few sentences. Post on the blog and we can all review.

Sierra

Once the introductory material is incorporated, send the members of the group a sample packet (probably via e-mail). Then send out the physical packet.

Time Line Update

1. 10/6 – 10/7 Proposal Packets sent out
2. 10/9 Field Trip to the Seattle Center

Hajjaj, most sikerült meggyőznöm magam, hogy tutira mégsem vágatom le a hajam egy jó ideig. Múlthét végén beleszerettem Karla frizurájába:

…de most Karla honlapján rátaláltam fodrásza oldalára, ahol viszont beleszerettem ebbe:

Úgyhogy sajnálom rövidhaj, neked még várnod kell, helló göndör hajzuhatagom, szabadon engedlek!

ui: holnap megyünk Lujival design hétre, viszek fényképezőgépet és kis photojournalt csinálok, valami közérdekű post-ot.

A word on mosquito bites and family as a way to sum up the Mayan Empire

By Karla

Four days into my trip to my father’s homeland, Guatemala, we go to the most beautiful terrain I have ever seen. A mix between jungle and forest, parrots flying past me, butterfly’s the size of your hand, and the buzzing of insects. At some point we stop in what can only be described as a Lychee forest, huge lychee everywhere in tons of different colors, lots of yellows, reds, red with green spindles, and oranges. There it is – the entire world’s beauty there for me to enjoy.

I get to our family’s home and realize I have been massively bitten by mosquitoes. Now a few bad mosquito bites is a blip on my travel radar. My father, a man who always praised toughening up, looks obscenely worried.

His reaction surprises me. The father that I know and love has always been slightly apathetic. That night, I am up writing in my journal and about to slather on menthol. My father comes in the room and asks me if he can put the menthol on my legs for me. I look at the worry lines creasing his forehead and ease myself back on my uncle’s couch and make room for him to sit as I think “Let him be your dad right now”. For the next 30 minutes my dad sits on the couch and rubs menthol on each of my mosquito bites. He shakes his head as he looks and thoroughly rubs the cool balm into each of the bites. It dawns on me then, 1 am, sitting on the couch of an uncle I’ve only known for days, in a tiny tropical and rural port town in the south east of Guatemala, just how much my dad loves me. It hurts him to see my mosquito bites. Where as I was fully willing to brush them off as inconvenience and take a minimal 5 minutes to care for them, my dad thinks it’s worth 30 minutes of his time to try and make it better.

Now, my father isn’t the most expressive man. He has a gruff exterior and his expression in the states is usually one that verges on scowl. I am quite the emotional and expressive woman, I was a toughy for him to handle. That night, and many other moments on the trip, I was struck by how in our baggage as father and daughter, I had not ever truly understood just how much my dad loves me, even if its hard for him to say it. I am loved. There it is – the entire world’s beauty there for me to enjoy.

My family in Guatemala relates to each other so powerfully. When one family member hurts the whole family does, when one family member has joy the whole family rejoices. My dad, I discovered, was pulled from all this love at a very young age and put in orphanages until coming to the United States, this is where his base was created. Everything he learned about being a dad got packed into the first 8 to 9 years of his life. A nine year old boy soaked in family and all the bruises and trauma that followed created the man who sat at my legs and dedicated 30 minutes every night for 5 nights to provide his daughter with comfort.

I heard so many rich stories in those three weeks. Stories about my revolutionary great-grandmother “La Abuela”, that hid propaganda in tortillas to help Pancho Villa, the Mexican revolutionary. Stories about her exile from her mother country. Stories about the loss of her 13 children and her raising all her grandchildren in their absence. Stories that are full of immense pain and tremendous pride at what each of them had to do to guarantee survival for the rest.

I understand now, perhaps better than at any time in my life, that I am Guatemalan, Mexican, and American. This visit was not a visit to a foreign land but a return to another home. I am fundamentally tied to my culture. To a people whose ruins remain more amazing than any modern day building I have seen. Linked to traditions and values created out of struggle and hope. I am loved by them. I was loved by them before I ever was even born. And they fought for themselves, each other and my future. Now I get the distinct honor of being their historian; making sure that my kids, my students, and my friends know where they come from.

… A volte capita. Venerdi’ e sabato a Milano per il Kyogen con Nomura Mansaku, tesoro vivente nazionale, e Nomura Mansai. Sotto molti punti di vista un’esperienza decisamente interessante che mi ha fatto ulteriormente riflettere su cosa sia l’arte e quali siano le difficolta’ pratiche nel riuscire a realizzarla. Dei due attori non posso che dire che, oltre ad essere grandi professionisti, sono persone molto disponibili e cortesi.
Lunedi’ sera e’ stata invece la volta qui a Torino del Gagaku; in effetti era parecchio tempo che volevo vederlo. Un ringraziamento speciale va quindi ad Alessandro e Minami (loro sanno il perche’).

Presto il 3 ottobre iniziera’ la mostra di emakimono (andate assolutamente a vederla se abitate in zona!) a Mondovi’ e i preparativi per quella di gennaio a Torino proseguono.

Ieri ho finito anche il mio nuovo racconto. Kaedenoha e Karla, le due eroine di Storia romantica di code e di canini e di Miwaku riunite insieme in un racconto fantastico “vacanziero” tra Oriente e Occidente…

Per il resto, il libro sul Giappone e l’Asia antica sta ormai per uscire sia in America che nel paese del Sol Levante. Spero a brevissimo di poterne dare l’annuncio su questo blog. Visto che ci lavoro da ormai piu’ di sette anni si tratta di un volume che mi e’ particolarmente caro. A fine gennaio uscira’ poi un’antologia che ritengo di ottima qualita’ (non perche’ l’ho tradotta io, ma perche’ i racconti – ben diciotto – e gli autori meritano sul serio) con quindici tra gli scrittori giapponesi contemporanei piu’ importanti della letteratura di genere e non solo. Successivamente, la prossima primavera uscira’ ALIA6. Un solo volume questa volta, ma che promette di essere la piu’ internazionale delle antologie di letteratura fantastica mai uscite sul suolo italiano (riunira’ autori di almeno sei nazioni differenti sparse su tutto il globo!). Nel frattempo ci saranno altre varie uscite che credo potranno interessare un po’ di lettori di questo blog… (^^)b

E poi, ehi, sono diventato anche un’illustrazione. Il disegno e’ opera di MoMa KoN.

Teatro da PUC, Porto Alegre, RS

Para comprar uma foto entre em CONTATO

Acesse nosso SITE | FOTOLOG | ORKUT | TWITTER

Pues chavos todos los que estaban esperando estas fotos, y ha vista que la han buscado bastante y por ende han dado con este blog, les dejo  la portada de Karla, ex integrante de JEANS que ahora en su carrera en solitario ha decidido quitarse los Jeans, y los calcetines, y la chaqueta, y la blusa….  así es este mes, KARLA aparece en la portada de la revista H. En anteriores entrevistas, ella misma ha dejado abierta la posibilidad de posar para la versión EXTREMO de esta misma publicación, ¿ustedes quisieran verla asi?

Dá click aquí

On saturday, the Navratri ashtami day, me and my two loves, wifey and Vesta, prepared to ride to our Kuladaivat (Goddess of my family) Ekvira Devi temple at Karla, and roam around Lonavala.

Vesta warming up at 6.00am…

The average speed was around 70-80 kmph, hardly going above 90. Sun rose sometime along the route.

Rear view sunrise, running away from the sun…

We reached Karla at around 7.20am. Got the darshan well, and were ready to go ahead by 8.30am.

Leaving Karla…

We had a quick breakfast at Annapurna hotel, Lonavla. Then by takign the amby valley route we passed through Lonavala lake wall, to Bhushy dam.

Lonavala lake wall:

There wasn’t any waterfall at Bhushy dam, as it depends on the releasing of water from the dam. However the water was very clear, we could see the fishes. Also, the surrounding were beautiful and calming, except maybe the sun who was blazing now and then.

Ahead of the Bhushy dam, we went to Tiger point, about 6 kms from the dam. The road is very good, with flowers on both sides. Riding on it was great fun, with all the hairpin bends and twisty roads. Soon we reached Tiger point. The cagers had parked their cars on the side and went there walking. Being a biker, I took vesta inside, and roamed around on bike only

The beautiful valley

We had planned to go to Valvan dam as well, but after going there, we came to know that it is closed to public, so had to leave from there.

Homebound journey was quite sleep inducing, as the roads are just straight. This was perhaps the first time I rode the bike in sleepy stance, and something that I am certainly not proud of.

Last stop was Shirgaon, where a Saibaba temple same as that of Shirdi is erected. It is also known as Prati Shirdi. I liked it a lot here, even more than Shirdi, as there was hardly any crowd, no restriction on photography, and one could actually just sit and relax. The way Shirdi may have been in the past, the same way it is in Shirgaon today.

Inside the temple

After the khichdi prasad and tea coffee at the temple, it was a fast ride to Pune, and we were back at around 3.00pm.

Journey route was N Main road – Karla – Lonavla – Bhushy dam – Tiger point – Detour to Valvan – Detour to Shirgaon – N main road via swargate. Total running was 200.3 kms.