tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17422407716493833612023-11-16T05:53:48.248-05:00sàntomianSyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-33519385802805234042013-04-18T09:52:00.000-04:002013-04-18T09:57:04.042-04:00Answered Prayers<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTl1PVnQI7pcurjZV2Ign2TQgUDOMGWuFDgcMIbsmxa6P-_437yCNYUSw8PjoEpCeBZo70FMNhh6UlOmF1WeHX-nsHoF4pU0kmis0nMoudUNsYoZjQV-0x40wd8LYTxqjTrSY_Mmh5AY/s640/blogger-image--1515164955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTl1PVnQI7pcurjZV2Ign2TQgUDOMGWuFDgcMIbsmxa6P-_437yCNYUSw8PjoEpCeBZo70FMNhh6UlOmF1WeHX-nsHoF4pU0kmis0nMoudUNsYoZjQV-0x40wd8LYTxqjTrSY_Mmh5AY/s1600/blogger-image--1515164955.jpg"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While driving the other day I had to pull over and take in the moment. This is what I saw. <br>
I am surroudned by beauty. In people and places. In the food I eat prepared with love.<br>
It's all such an incredible blessing. Forever thankful and in awe of God's grace.</td></tr>
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I remember hearing a story a few weeks ago. The gist of it was about a man who had a dream where God gave him a grand tour of heaven. It was beautiful to say the least. Unimaginable. They came to this room filled from floor to ceiling with presents of all shapes and sizes.<br>
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The man asked God, "What are all these presents?"<br>
And God answered, "These are all the things I had for you, but you never asked for them."<br>
<a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2013/04/answered-prayers.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-26124819583870290192013-03-09T21:54:00.000-05:002013-03-09T22:48:45.805-05:00Overcoming Selfishness & Learning The Art of Giving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxwAKMaWFhjnbYWYI2kp74pYLKLiCfBqOumiLrhTdngcXLxkzJClyqdx4p3B2AORtg1FhK2wDfdxIlr6cGGlLwLhUz-VP4A9in_tOUQgwij3lSBdyld7o4T8R1PnQYsJPKMfzovU4LQo/s640/blogger-image-1813663172.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxwAKMaWFhjnbYWYI2kp74pYLKLiCfBqOumiLrhTdngcXLxkzJClyqdx4p3B2AORtg1FhK2wDfdxIlr6cGGlLwLhUz-VP4A9in_tOUQgwij3lSBdyld7o4T8R1PnQYsJPKMfzovU4LQo/s320/blogger-image-1813663172.jpg" width="320"></a></div>
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I expect too much. I expect the shirt from the back of the people that claim to love me. As if love were measured by what we gave in material things. There are other ways to measure love. And we must be as eager to give as we are to receive. </div>
<a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2013/03/overcoming-selfishness-learning-art-of.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-36238636756939719532013-03-06T10:16:00.000-05:002013-03-06T10:18:13.946-05:00"With or Without You"<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2013/02/28/arts/28ruta2/28ruta-articleLarge.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/28/books/domenica-rutas-memoir-with-or-without-you.html?pagewanted=1&_r=0&ref=books" target="_blank">source</a></td></tr>
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I was drawn to this picture perusing the Times this morning. And then I read <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/28/books/domenica-rutas-memoir-with-or-without-you.html?pagewanted=1&_r=0&ref=books" target="_blank">the accompanying article</a>. Domenica Ruta is the author of "With or Without You", a recovery memoir that explores her life and relationship with her mother, a drug addict. I'm going to read this book. And I'm going to interview this woman.<br />
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You can buy it <a href="http://www.strandbooks.com/literature-1/with-or-without-you-a-memoir-0812993241/_/searchString/domenica" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-1777384541635953032013-03-06T00:00:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:16:20.836-05:00Regret<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 21px; text-align: center;">“We need to learn to love the flawed imperfect things that we create and to forgive ourselves for creating them. Regret doesn’t remind us that we did badly. It reminds us that we know we can do better.” </span></blockquote>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" mozallowfullscreen="" scrolling="no" src="http://embed.ted.com/talks/kathryn_schulz_don_t_regret_regret.html" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="560"></iframe></span><br>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #202020; font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; line-height: 21px;">I have regrets.</span><br>
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<a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2013/03/regret.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-57187397789967698192013-03-05T00:00:00.000-05:002013-03-06T12:26:20.872-05:00Learning Vicariously (Pt.2)<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8byI76vKZwg" width="560"></iframe><br>
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I came across <a href="http://ajamonet.mvmt.com/" target="_blank">Aja Monet</a> randomly about four years ago at a poetry reading on a Monday night in New York City. She was an undergrad student at Sarah Lawrence at the time.<br>
<br><a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2013/03/learning-vicariously-pt2.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-50245337818051890182013-03-04T08:00:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:30:12.862-05:00Tracee Ellis Ross: Body Talk<br>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JTttnncBxeZakc5rcQRwPNLT7lFXoV2IziCYNus7rC7vyZMz-eKkhfKDDO0gWN_0vu2xWNMQBZ50EB-hj833SVhK1ITcPmhL99bL4BEyDMm5F6Bq4OZGTJ2TJdv45wc_t4xXbHOebaM/s1600/6f1fb9427b7f11e2ad9722000a9e2977_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6JTttnncBxeZakc5rcQRwPNLT7lFXoV2IziCYNus7rC7vyZMz-eKkhfKDDO0gWN_0vu2xWNMQBZ50EB-hj833SVhK1ITcPmhL99bL4BEyDMm5F6Bq4OZGTJ2TJdv45wc_t4xXbHOebaM/s400/6f1fb9427b7f11e2ad9722000a9e2977_7.jpg" width="400"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://instagram.com/p/V9eJPQGRq7/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">source</span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I’ve just devoured part one of a series by Tracee Ellis Ross on her relationship with and perception of her body. She explains that for her, the relationship changes regulary depending on a number of factors. I think, for most women, some semblance of this is true. This is not to say that we don’t love our bodies. Generally speaking, we do. We must. And we are always striving, aiming, for unwavering self love. That said, it is not as easy as it sounds. And, like Tracee, I think it is worthwhile for every woman to explore and dissect their relationship with their body. </span><br>
</div><a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2013/03/tracee-ellis-ross-body-talk.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-81770061025316514422013-03-04T01:05:00.002-05:002013-03-06T09:30:42.057-05:00Let me explain...I'm sure you've noticed I go through these bouts where I blog continuously and then stop for months at a time. There are a few reasons why this happens, but I think the gist of it is that blogging becomes a chore. It goes something like this:<br>
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<a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2013/03/let-me-explain.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-64323893904274645362013-03-04T00:38:00.001-05:002013-03-06T09:31:20.213-05:00If: The Power of Words"Words are things, I'm convinced. You must be careful about the words you use, or the words you allow to be used in your house. In the Old Testament, we're told in Genesis that, 'In the beginning was the word, and the word was God, and the word was with God.' That's in Genesis. Words are things. You must be careful, careful about calling people out of their names, using racial pejoratives and sexual pejoratives and all that ignorance. Don't do that. Some day we'll be able to measure the power of words. I think they are things. They get on the walls. They get in your wallpaper. They get in your rugs, in your upholstery, and your clothes, and finally in to you." Maya Angelou<br>
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I heard Alicia Keys speak about the moment she realized the power of words. Her response, she says, was to banish the word "if" from her vocabulary. And to change the way she spoke.<br>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6eG2U57iJOho16-R1eioS1ce7n1jLu8314kVUv__94IOXrMK4cVYpC89NNg1TCvP_9KmsznqjBgouq9O0CWPdk_QNFGgkmprtxpO6UxL1MLGZfy3TOoc7099wwAcP4tsGFiNkvYyDh8/s1600/if.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_6eG2U57iJOho16-R1eioS1ce7n1jLu8314kVUv__94IOXrMK4cVYpC89NNg1TCvP_9KmsznqjBgouq9O0CWPdk_QNFGgkmprtxpO6UxL1MLGZfy3TOoc7099wwAcP4tsGFiNkvYyDh8/s1600/if.jpg"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=define+if&rlz=1C1TSNP_enUS483US483&aq=f&oq=define+if&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8" target="_blank">source</a><br>
</td></tr></tbody></table><a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2013/03/if-power-of-words.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-574503063032786592012-12-10T19:34:00.000-05:002013-03-06T10:29:25.331-05:00The Problem with Timidity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxAHuMwA7vjA20rQDlVVUv2b8Of9VoIShlKP8G-LHJKGhN2514BNmagFFVPZgMbXThFPKlTuK7RVs9nReYwxONaxrCuombf7YhvOH_SjVd4GdJhNmedlHAVQ6_v4UfdyW7aFEb97EBfc/s640/blogger-image--340023324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXxAHuMwA7vjA20rQDlVVUv2b8Of9VoIShlKP8G-LHJKGhN2514BNmagFFVPZgMbXThFPKlTuK7RVs9nReYwxONaxrCuombf7YhvOH_SjVd4GdJhNmedlHAVQ6_v4UfdyW7aFEb97EBfc/s400/blogger-image--340023324.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-13104267684695254482012-12-05T02:28:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:32:51.675-05:00Mika!<div style="text-align: center;">
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<tr><td><img alt="Mika-SHOT-2_244" src="http://mikasounds.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/Mika-SHOT-2_244.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Photo via <a href="http://mikasounds.com/">mikasounds</a></td></tr>
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I don't ask for much in the way of music. I just want artists to produce great music consistently. Usually an artist I initially love disappoints me by their second or third album and I have to find some new infatuation to fill the musical void. This is not the case with Mika.</div>
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</div><a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2012/12/mika.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-37325848164777209242012-12-03T14:03:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:33:32.630-05:00Sugar Cookie Fail!<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoo-cMoaT7xi98Tz5GbCyXq03dXJ_FLgsL6asDjxu4J_ztD6rYjy_FaleLJtnJiroJxdgv03PDuT38iTfSOnjibfD2qbkgW_83KS52rO2WI63jq_Id56jIXkOaRmBr6hF3SbeatKvd0b4/s640/blogger-image-1623791691.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoo-cMoaT7xi98Tz5GbCyXq03dXJ_FLgsL6asDjxu4J_ztD6rYjy_FaleLJtnJiroJxdgv03PDuT38iTfSOnjibfD2qbkgW_83KS52rO2WI63jq_Id56jIXkOaRmBr6hF3SbeatKvd0b4/s640/blogger-image-1623791691.jpg" width="640"></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recipe adapted via <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/sugar-cookies-recipe/index.html">the Food Network</a></td></tr>
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I am not a cook. But I love to eat. And every once in a while, if I love something enough, I'll try my hand at recreating it myself. The other day my grandmother bought me some sugar cookies that were just to die for. They were gone that day. (Don't judge.)<br>
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Naturally I had to have more. They seemed easy enough to make. A little sugar, a little butter, a little love.<br>
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<a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2012/12/sugar-cookie-fail.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-21535179232654368862012-11-30T00:50:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:33:55.297-05:00On repeat.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Solange via <a href="http://mydamnblog.com/">Mydamnblog</a></td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I'm in love with Solange's new EP, True. If you haven't heard it yet, you should definitely check it out. "Lover's in the Parking Lot" is my absolute favorite track at the moment. You can listen to it <a href="http://soundcloud.com/terrible-records/04-lovers-in-the-parking-lot">here</a>. What say ye?</span></div>
Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-89787054764100664832012-11-29T11:39:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:35:00.075-05:00Learning Vicariously<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="IMG_0179500" src="http://urbanbushbabes.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/IMG_0179500.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nikisha of <a href="http://urbanbushbabes.com/2012/11/30-things-i-learned-on-my-way-to-age-30/">UrbanBushBabes</a></td></tr>
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I stumbled upon <a href="http://urbanbushbabes.com/2012/11/30-things-i-learned-on-my-way-to-age-30/">this</a> last night. Nikisha of Urban Bush Babes shared 30 life lessons she learned on her way to age 30. This is honestly one of the most life changing things you'll ever read. But only if you put it into practice. So I had to share this with you, in addition to noting some of the ones that especially resonated with me (because hey, they <i>all</i> did).<br>
</div><a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2012/11/learning-vicariously.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-69751618514523369572012-11-28T15:42:00.000-05:002012-11-29T08:48:10.646-05:00Ungrateful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-AfUzE1BjnSmnJrZnf8Gl3CKHJQu1lcfffHdl2VW7HicFU5hHM3J0akt2Re10spJklolwNliYP-B416kkMoKUukel7tBE_BOWXLmEzgsHUpJ0LwgWMU-GbGmirDxDf4Bj44jfYwnldNc/s640/blogger-image-1143698983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-AfUzE1BjnSmnJrZnf8Gl3CKHJQu1lcfffHdl2VW7HicFU5hHM3J0akt2Re10spJklolwNliYP-B416kkMoKUukel7tBE_BOWXLmEzgsHUpJ0LwgWMU-GbGmirDxDf4Bj44jfYwnldNc/s400/blogger-image-1143698983.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the view from my balcony</td></tr></tbody></table>You ever have one of those moments where you literally want to smack yourself in the face? Well I had another epiphany. I can be very ungrateful. I forget, all too often, that I am blessed. There is so much to be thankful for. I was perusing my favorite spots online adding things I don't need to my mile long wishlist when I thought, "When was the last time I gave thanks for all the things that I have?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It had been a while. Sometimes I get angry with God, and he has to remind me that I can be such a spoiled brat. "Remember that time when I...?" He says.<br />
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And <i>that time</i> He's referring to, was yesterday. Or this morning when I woke up. Because waking up is a blessing that we don't all get to experience. We mustn't take these things for granted. And instead of focusing on me-me-me and all the things I want, I should be spending my days asking God how I can live today, for him. He's done enough.</div>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-75160469693254567102012-11-27T19:35:00.002-05:002013-03-06T09:38:12.863-05:00What I'm Reading: The Bluest Eye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-gePwvl0Z1Z1glTveQ7HWQ-T0PMdXpNJ2QdkKDVFL5d3rFhn0hGKWLTa8Sk3-dfuS2GR7-YTOCeUn7RngddhP3SVLP3BhaVqg1jHY_03RXy8yRmld1iLtWl0tge4p9mCgBBPx7Lfn5E/s640/blogger-image--103584161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-gePwvl0Z1Z1glTveQ7HWQ-T0PMdXpNJ2QdkKDVFL5d3rFhn0hGKWLTa8Sk3-dfuS2GR7-YTOCeUn7RngddhP3SVLP3BhaVqg1jHY_03RXy8yRmld1iLtWl0tge4p9mCgBBPx7Lfn5E/s640/blogger-image--103584161.jpg" /></a></div>
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"We were sinking under the wisdom, accuracy, and relevance of Maureen's last words. If she was cute--and if anything could be believed, she <i>was--</i>then we were not. And what did that mean? We were lesser. Nicer, brighter, but still lesser. Dolls we could destroy, but we could not destroy the honey voices of parents and aunts, the obedience in the eyes of our peers, the slippery light in the eyes of our teachers when they encountered the Maureen Peals of the world. What was the secret? What did we lack? Why was it important? And so what? Guileless and without vanity, we were still in love with ourselves then. We felt comfortable in our skins, enjoyed the news that our senses released to us, admired our dirt, cultivated our scars, and could not comprehend this unworthiness. Jealousy we understood and thought natural--a desire to have what somebody else had; but envy was a strange, new feeling for us. And all the time we knew that Maureen Peal was not the Enemy and not worthy of such intense hatred. The <i>Thing</i> to fear was the <i>Thing</i> that made<i> her</i> beautiful, and not <i>us.</i>"</div>
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The Bluest Eye is Toni Morrison's debut novel. It tells the story of a little girl who longs for blue eyes, to be beautiful, to be noticed. <a href="http://www.strandbooks.com/fiction/bluest-eye/_/searchString/%20bluest%20eye">Every woman of color should read this.</a></div>
Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-2153293536218866082012-11-26T21:47:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:35:19.082-05:00Natalia<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photo by Felipe Dana/AP
I read this article some time ago in the paper. This image really resonated with me. Why?
1. I realized that this girl, Natalia Gonzales, is 15 years old, and a crack addict.
2. When I discovered this I said a prayer for her—that she would know she is loved.
3. It confirmed that I would like to spend my life helping others like Natalia, although I’m not yet sure how." height="426" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbtojn3Uj51qivxvco1_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="640" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Felipe Dana/AP</td></tr>
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I read <a href="http://bigstory.ap.org/article/brazil-drug-dealers-say-no-crack-rio">this</a> article some time ago in the paper and this image really resonated with me because:<br />
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1. I realized that this girl, Natalia Gonzales is 15 years old and a crack addict.<br />
2. When I discovered this I said a prayer for her, that she would know she is loved.<br />
3. It confirmed that I would like to spend my life helping others like Natalia.Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-21245784199640829852012-11-26T18:11:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:37:24.671-05:00The Definition of Beauty<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Photographer: Maxim Vakhovskiy" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m8nmgmR6tn1rs3g5co1_400.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by <a href="http://maximushka.tumblr.com/">Maxim Vakhovskiy</a></td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As a society I think we are often misled when we talk about beauty. We equate beauty with physical appearance when in reality one has nothing to do with the other. On some level, we are all aware of this. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I've met attractive people with very ugly personalities. And the more I interacted with them, the less attractive they became. Likewise, I've met other people that became more attractive the more I got to know them. In both cases though, nothing about the person physically changed. But my perception of them was completely different.</span></span><br>
</div><a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2012/11/beauty-nsfw.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1742240771649383361.post-68140395270556351182012-11-26T14:54:00.000-05:002013-03-06T09:40:08.417-05:00My Pants Are Too Tight: A Return to Blogging<div style="text-align: center;">
<img alt="Funny Confession Ecard: I wish I was as thin as I actually was, back when I thought I was fat." src="http://static.someecards.com/someecards/usercards/1339373643495_2310624.png"></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I've been having a lot of these moments lately</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;">—</span><span style="text-align: left;">moving back home to the island apparently meant that I'd be eating a ton of local home-cooked food (read: carbs). I mean, I love food. And being away from home for five years meant that I was missing out on all that island cooking I grew up eating. I had to make up for lost time.</span></div>
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I didn't give it too much thought when my jeans didn't fit me anymore. It is after all, an island. It's too hot for jeans. Or clothes actually. But, nonetheless, today I tried on a pair of khakis I received <i>ages</i> <i>ago. </i>Initially when I got them they were too big, but I kept them with the intention that they would make a fun sewing project (once I figured out how to sew).</div>
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Now they don't fit. And I don't mean they're a little snug. I mean I cannot pull the zipper up even if I tried. Because trust me, I tried.</div>
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</div></div><a href="http://santomian.blogspot.com/2012/11/my-pants-are-too-tight-return-to.html#more">Read more »</a>Syhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11044544900600822162noreply@blogger.com3