Monday, December 8, 2014

Unfathomable Perfection

It's been a long time for me to learn that there are more important things than being perfect. What is perfection? I'd had such a hard time grasping the concept that I decided to write the blog in my second language to show my imperfections and face my limits in the most obvious way possible. So I can't help but make mistakes. And I can't even see them all. I just know they are there somewhere. They must be. I know they are there and that makes me itchy. Or crazy. Temporarily crazy that is. {Insert my crazy laugh here.}

Like when I wrote 'whole' instead of 'hole'. It took me several rounds to spot that. Quite a difference for you, invisible and non-existent for me. At least for a few days or weeks. Sometimes even months. I just corrected the very first error in the very first entry I wrote a couple of years ago. It seems I invented a new time frame for an old tense.

No matter how much I loath it, I must face each and every mistake I make -- suppose I can actually see them. Is there a more self-torturous act for a perfectionist? What I am aiming to achieve here is to become a former perfectionist.

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Colors of the Rainbow

A plastic bag full of leftover yarn in the colors of the rainbow was left in the park. Bikers and hikers passed by, but no one found it worthy enough to pick it up. The bag was ripped on the side. Balls of yarn rolled in all directions matted with leaves forming an entangled messy heap. Some of the colors I didn't like, but I scooped up the whole thing anyway. It took me a while to separate the bits. I had no plans for the yarn, but later when I showed it to my mom, she came up with an idea. She wanted to make a shawl. She would work on it for months carrying small amounts of yarn in various colors in her pocket anywhere she went. And whenever time permitted, she would knit a small square. She made several dozens of separate squares. Once she was finished with them, she sewed them together. The shawl has been in use ever since and it faded just a little. 

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Graveyard Zombie

It's a bit late for wishing a Happy Halloween, but it's never too late to introduce my favorite  costume of the season: Mark Ballas' zombie from DWTS. Zombies can look quite boring. I've seen the usual soiled clothes badly in need of repair theme a thousand times. Although it's evening wear, Mark's outfit is simple; dreadfully gray checkered pants paired with an equally horrifying gray jacket; white polka dots on a black shirt and a distressed fishnet vest in dirty white that comes with holes the size a small shark can comfortably get through. His hair and makeup isn't that unusual, either. It's a well known fact that zombies are pale. It's either that they spend day and night in graves in front of a computer till they get goggle-eyed or they only get to work the graveyard shift. Mark looks pale as moonlight just like any decent zombie should, but in a delightful way as if he had taken a zombie tan that went partially wrong around his eyes and mouth. His hair, stiff as a broom, is masterfully coiffed. And he IS goggle-eyed. What pulls this outfit together and makes it unique and its wearer dignified is the way Mark brings the character to life as he dances. Take a look.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

How to Say "I Was Here"

I just wanted to enter the front door when suddenly I noticed something laying on the mat. At first sight, it looked like a neatly arranged little heap made of short pieces of knotted strings right at the center of the mat. From closer inspection, however, it looked more like a clear statement, a very personal message, left by the neighbors' highly intelligent cat. There are countless cats roaming the neighborhood, but I knew it was him. He definitely made an attempt to reach the premises and failed. He does not tolerate failure, you see. 

He is extraordinarily stylish wearing a red fur coat all year long. And now, despite our differences and an on-and-off war between us, he even made it being mentioned in my blog.

Sunday, January 12, 2014


I've realized that I am an avid collector of things. I have countless bags, among them a garish blue and a crazy red faux leather suitcase. I LOVE bags. I also collect trinkets and jewelry. It seems that my room has slowly been morphing into something between a specialty store and a mini library.

And I also have belts. A lot of belts.

-- Carol

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

New Hair during Rush Hour

De músico, poeta y loco, todos tenemos un poco
Of musician, poet and madman we all have our measure

I bought one kg of sweet cherry from an old man in the street. I gave it to Adam. I just burst into the shop, dropped the bag on his lap and rushed out right after that.

"Thank you very much," he managed to say and rushed out after me with a broad grin on his face and my hat in his hand. He handed me the hat and rushed right back.

Sunday, November 24, 2013

Pobby and Dingan

"The secret of an opal's color lies not in its substance but in its absences." 
Australian Geographic, 1998

Pobby and Dingan is a story of two invisible friends and a piece of precious stone by Ben Rice. At first glance, I found the book a bit boring. And then something made me keep reading it. When I finished the book, I didn't want the story to end so I went back and read the whole thing all over again.

I've never owned a precious stone, but I played with the idea that the piece of plastic on the thrifted macramé belt was actually brown opal. I thought about how talented Ben Rice must be to write such a story, his very first work that not only won a couple of awards but was also made into a movie.

Later, I made a small inventory of some of my invisible friends: those I haven't heard from for a long time and some friendly folks I've never even met. It made me realize that Pobby and Dingan is one of the most heartwarming stories I've ever read.