La Familia A veces es lo Peor

No porque hayan vínculos sanguíneos eso le Otorga el derecho a dichos “familiares ”  a tratar a uno como mierda.  Cuando  no se puede , no se puede. La UNICA Solucion aqui es Distancia de POR VIDA!!!


Hurricane Maria (Sept 20th, 2017)

Puerto Rico will NEVER be the same. What  was to be a nice and relaxing vacation turned into an utter nightmare. The howling winds were horrific, and her fury indescribable. I left with a heavy heart, saw a lot of apathy but also saw ppl helping a lot.  Please if you can visit this site and help if you desire.  Puerto Rico will take years to recover and I hope they do. We don’t Need the Bastard of Dump who only came to make fun of the island and its people.

Still No water in some parts and only 8% have access to power, cell phone communication.  They are many still in limbo because cell phone companies Are Still not working.






She meant this song as a criticism towards the situation on the Island and the Slow Response from Trump and his government. Puerto Rico is NOT asking for handouts, it NEEDS Help!


Ulysses Lord Alfred Tennyson

Haven’t heard this poem since I was in High School. Heard it again while watching an episode of the wonderful PBS show Mercy Street.


It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match’d with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro’ scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honour’d of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
For ever and forever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life! Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.
         This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle,—
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and thro’ soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.
         There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark, broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me—
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads—you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
‘T is not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

La Confianza Y la Fe

No me refiero necesariamente a la pérdida de fe  o confianza religiosa o espiritual. Me refiero mas a la pérdida de fe y confianza en la gente, la humanidad. Tan difícil que es aprender a confiar en alguien y tan fácil que es perder esa confianza en un solo acto. Lo he dicho aquí numerosas veces, NO SOPORTO la Hipocresía. No me gusta la gente que demuestra una cara a cierta gente y con otros se ponen la máscara de Hipocresía. Se  autentico, no seas un corderito con algunos para luego burlarte de ellos y un imbécil Cabrón con otros.  Estoy segura que la gente así, la segunda cara es la verdadera.  A este tipo de gente les huyo como la peste.


Pablo Neruda- Poema 12


Para mi corazón basta tu pecho, 

para tu libertad bastan mis alas.
Desde mi boca llegará hasta el cielo
lo que estaba dormido sobre tu alma.

Es en ti la ilusión de cada día.
Llegas como el rocío a las corolas.
Socavas el horizonte con tu ausencia.
Eternamente en fuga como la ola.

He dicho que cantabas en el viento
como los pinos y como los mástiles.
Como ellos eres alta y taciturna.
Y entristeces de pronto, como un viaje.

Acogedora como un viejo camino.
Te pueblan ecos y voces nostálgicas.
Yo desperté y a veces emigran y huyen
pájaros que dormían en tu alma.