it involves music and literature.
and at first I was a little annoyed. Then I read one of the comments:
pic is really so funny
Emphasis mine. (I always wanted to say that).
After I had forgiven the transgression, I realized that I license the work under Creative Commons. So, please carry on, then! And to Viral, hats off to you, sir, for your keen appreciation of sophisticated humor. I re-post:
An interview with Maria Popova, who’s job is “helping people become interested in things they didn’t know they were interested in, until they are.”
SHE is the mastermind of the one of the faster growing literary empires on the Internet, yet she is virtually unknown. She is the champion of old-fashioned ideas, yet she is only 28 years old. She is a fierce defender of books, yet she insists she will never write one herself.
At precisely 9:30 on a chilly Saturday morning, Maria Popova slips out of her apartment in Brooklyn, scurries down a few stairs and enters a small basement gym. A former recreational bodybuilder from Bulgaria, Ms. Popova is the unlikely founder of the exploding online emporium of ideas known as Brain Pickings.
Her exhaustively assembled grab bag of scientific curiosities, forgotten photographs, snippets of old love letters and mash notes to creativity — imagine the high-mindedness of a TED talk mixed with the pop sensibility of P. T. Barnum — spans a blog (500,000 visitors a month), a newsletter (150,000 subscribers) and a Twitter feed (263,000 followers).
(Bill Wilson, AA’s co-founder was born November 26, 1895 . I’m reposting this in his memory. Forever grateful, friend!)
That’s what I say most Sundays. I say it in a church basement, as my turn comes up to identify myself to the group of alcoholics gathered there to “share our experience, strength and hope” with one another.
It’s an act of trust and of humility. But more than anything, though, is an act of self-acceptance.
When my father died at the age of forty seven in a car accident in 1979, the impact of that tragedy affected me more than I understood, or was able to accept, at the time. It happened while on a return trip to Cuba, a decade after we had gone into exile. Suddenly a joyful event turned dark, it’s devastating shadow following me back to the States where I would only deal with it in the only way I found worked: I self-medicated, using drugs and alcohol, for the next few years to ease the pain and also to cope with a life that suddenly had stopped making sense.
There are many men and women that lose a loved one in an equally arbitrary and horrific way. Some in even worse conditions. Most of these folks learn to live with the pain and can carry on with their lives without resorting to the method I used. I reacted that way simply because I am an alcoholic, and as my late sponsor used to say “alcoholics drink.” I had used alcohol before to numb the pain, to celebrate an occasion — sometimes a very trivial one — or to cope with uncomfortable situations. I was mostly unaware that this was going on. But I certainly developed a relationship with booze from an early (and awkward) age that served and protected me. Continue reading
From one of my favorite bloggers…sorry, but I don’t know her name. Please read and visit her place!
My amazing friend Kyra is re-launching!
Here’s a picture of my sister and me under the bright lights of a Broadway marquee:
That’s pretty much what I’ve been doing the last couple of years. Though not always under the theatrical lights. Or even outside. Or with my sister. Sometimes I’ve been floundering with glasses askew entirely on my own. Or with friends. Or my husband, Dave. Or our son, the previously nicknamed Fluffy, from here on, referred to as Tito. (It’s about time, right? How much longer would I insist on calling a human person, a tween-aged boy, FLUFFY?)
I’ve also been reading and eating and bathing, sleeping and laughing and crying, cooking and screaming and drawing, driving and talking and sitting, playing a bit of music, and watching a lot of TV. Jon Stewart, Colbert, a bunch of movies, TV. There’s so much good TV now. Have you been watching, for example, Lena Dunham…
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Cubiyanqui is 3 years-old today.
This little speck in the blogging universe has been my home for over a thousand days. During that period, my enthusiasm for this enterprise has not diminished, even if occasionally — like the last couple of months — the available time that I’ve had to dedicate to it, has. When I started the blog, I was unemployed. There was plenty of free time left over for posting after all those resumes were mailed out. Today, a job I’m very thankful for takes a lot of my energy and focus. As it should be. I’d much rather be an occasional blogger, than a frequent one facing foreclosure.
From the window that faces the Hudson, on this home saved by grace, I have a sliver of an opening to the New York City skyline. As I write this, the fireworks have just begun. Luckily, one of the Macy’s barges is sitting on the river, directly in front of us. My five and a-half year old son is more excited about the spectacle than I remember him on years past. I loose count of the “Wows” after the first few minutes. Behind the exploding shells — and in direct competition with them — sits a day-old new moon, a majestic red that will soon fade in the haze.
I never picked Independence Day as the day to start the blog. It was a coincidence, but I appreciate the symbolism. I value the liberty to write about or post anything here. Freedom of expression is a big turn on. It is what so many people come in search of, when they come to America. The idea that you can be who you are and say what you mean, whether from a street corner or a humble blog.
I love this country!