I KNOW its lame...
Winter poem
The snow has two different shades
There’s pure white,
But believe me that fades,
And then there’s the city grey.
Downtown the shoppers flock
A constant flow
Taking up the whole block
No ones in a hurry, just taking in the snow.
The wind beats my face
Sharp and bold
Hold onto something and brace
Yourself for the cold
The lights complete the downtown streets
And walking with someone you love makes the night a treat
A nice warm drink makes this night complete.
The Chicago Winter may be harsh,
But the ones you love make it all worth while.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Freakin' Globalization...
Kids in Africa are wearing Michael Jordan jerseys. People around the world identify with Nike, Pumas, the NBA, Lil’ Wayne, Hannah Montana, and of course the most famous girl in the world, Barbie. Is this wrong? Slowly is every culture diminishing? How different can cultures be when kids in China look shockingly similar to little Timmy down the block? The world’s colors are slowly mixing and becoming one ugly color…
Different cultures are so deep and interesting yet they continue to fade. Is it possible for the world to function if everyone looks, talks, listens and does everything exactly the same as every other person across the globe? People and groups usually have a need to accuse a party for something anything really. Now who will these people accuse if the person you’re blaming is a replica of you? Does that mean… this is a good thing?
What if we lived in a world where no one accused anyone else of anything? If we are all the same due to globalization… can we live in peace?
Nope, I doubt it. No one’s perfect. No single group is the ideal group of people. Everyone has issues. So now all that is continuing to happen, in my eyes, is chaos. I’m not saying that everyone has to be stuck in their thick cultural past, but I do think every group should have their own modern culture.
WHO HAS THE ANSWERS TO ALL THESE QUESTIONS?
Let’s not be one big color of mush.
Different cultures are so deep and interesting yet they continue to fade. Is it possible for the world to function if everyone looks, talks, listens and does everything exactly the same as every other person across the globe? People and groups usually have a need to accuse a party for something anything really. Now who will these people accuse if the person you’re blaming is a replica of you? Does that mean… this is a good thing?
What if we lived in a world where no one accused anyone else of anything? If we are all the same due to globalization… can we live in peace?
Nope, I doubt it. No one’s perfect. No single group is the ideal group of people. Everyone has issues. So now all that is continuing to happen, in my eyes, is chaos. I’m not saying that everyone has to be stuck in their thick cultural past, but I do think every group should have their own modern culture.
WHO HAS THE ANSWERS TO ALL THESE QUESTIONS?
Let’s not be one big color of mush.
Monday, December 6, 2010
Sportsssssssssss!
The sport I connect most with is baseball. Baseball not only holds a place in my life but it will always hold a place in my heart as well.
I’ve grown up around baseball. My dad played baseball all his life, so naturally I was exposed to baseball at a very young age.
My dad played baseball in the parking lot at St. Casmir, the fields at Kelly High School, and in Joliet for the Joliet Jackhammers. Then tragedy killed his dreams of going pro when he tore his Achilles. It was too hard to recover so quickly, so he had to hang up his cleats and get a steady job to support what would be his future family. My dad still had that quench to play ball and he then signed up to play with the Benito Juarez Mexican Baseball league. Sundays equals park, that’s just how it is in my mind. There’s never any question about it. Nothing stops my dad from playing. He played the day of his wedding, the day of my older brothers’ baptism, the day after I was born, and the day my older brother moved away. However, he was there nonetheless for all those special events in our lives. He shaved in the car on the day of his wedding, when he showed up late for the ceremony my mother asked him why at the alter and his response was “Babe, Championship game.” Eventually everyone got used to this. My parents always joke that this was the source of their split, and we always joke that the divorce rate in the league is 85%. Pitrowski Park is my second home. I grew up there and I’ll spend most summer Sundays there until my Dad decides to quit. Which will be never, which means I can’t escape baseball. Even if I tried.
:]
I’ve grown up around baseball. My dad played baseball all his life, so naturally I was exposed to baseball at a very young age.
My dad played baseball in the parking lot at St. Casmir, the fields at Kelly High School, and in Joliet for the Joliet Jackhammers. Then tragedy killed his dreams of going pro when he tore his Achilles. It was too hard to recover so quickly, so he had to hang up his cleats and get a steady job to support what would be his future family. My dad still had that quench to play ball and he then signed up to play with the Benito Juarez Mexican Baseball league. Sundays equals park, that’s just how it is in my mind. There’s never any question about it. Nothing stops my dad from playing. He played the day of his wedding, the day of my older brothers’ baptism, the day after I was born, and the day my older brother moved away. However, he was there nonetheless for all those special events in our lives. He shaved in the car on the day of his wedding, when he showed up late for the ceremony my mother asked him why at the alter and his response was “Babe, Championship game.” Eventually everyone got used to this. My parents always joke that this was the source of their split, and we always joke that the divorce rate in the league is 85%. Pitrowski Park is my second home. I grew up there and I’ll spend most summer Sundays there until my Dad decides to quit. Which will be never, which means I can’t escape baseball. Even if I tried.
:]
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