"Change has come to America"

Barack Obama, a 47-year-old first-term senator from Illinois, made history Tuesday night by winning election as the first African-American president of the United States.

Link: Barack Obama elected 44th president

Sins of our fathers

When ancient humans sinned, they were punished with environmental disasters, diseases. When modern humans sin, the consequences aren't as great. On the flipside, when the ancients won God's favor they were overwhelmed with riches.

The difference indicates to me that ancient humans were closer to the earth and to themselves, and the intensity of the consequences for their sins reflects the intensity with which they lived.

Does this mean that we live no more intensely? Probably, but I think its more of an indicator that our relationship with God has changed over our evolution.

José Gonzalez - Teardrop

Guinness

El olor de los libreros, escritorios y libros en el Long Hall de Trinity College me transportó al magnifico escritorio y pequeña biblioteca de mi abuelo Papay. Sobre ese escritorio exploré las historias de la revolución de 1910 observado por un par de Atlantes de Tula en miniatura. Dibujé, aprendí sobre los animales, e hice tarea donde antes, en su despacho, Papay preparaba casos y defendía a los trabajadores morelenses. Mi Papay no pudo visitar Europa, por lo que para mi fue aun más especial ver el Libro de Kells.

El Libro de Kells está elaborado con un nivel de detalle sublime. A primera vista parece que algunas páginas están manchadas, pero al estudiarlas se revelan figuras y diseños sutiles. Es como cuando uno se acerca a un bosque y lentamente aprecia a los árboles y arbustos individuales. Me acordé mucho de los estilógrafos que usaba mi mejor amigo Raúl para darle detalle a sus dibujos.

The Machine -- An inquiry into values -- Self-discovery #42

Although I'm young, graduated from one of the most progressive universities, live in one of the most liberal states (except for gay marriage), I've decided to remain conservative in my value system. The values that appeal to me most are those of my parents and their parents.

I shun racism, of course, and discrimination in any form. But I find nothing wrong with virtues such as courageousness, persistence, honesty, compassion, selflessness, prudence, self-reliance and responsibility that seem to have been lost in the flicker and din of Fox News, text messages, MySpace and Hollywood.

I'm not a Luddite by any means. After all, I'm writing this on FaceBook, and tomorrow I'll watch Food Inc.,. I'm far from yelling at you kids to get off of my lawn. (There's also something wrong about us shunning the wisdom of our elders and dismissing them as cantankerous.) But somewhere along our human development, I think it was after The Bomb, we were very rudely interrupted by The Machine. Most of us, myself included, fell by the wayside because The Machine made it harder for us to focus on our shortcomings as people.

We came to know the machine as a source of Power.

The Machine it bright and colorful, but it doesn't burn like the sun. It is shiny like a mirror. It makes sense. The Machine was created in our Image.

I stared at The Machine in awe for a long time until I snapped out of it and realized I was really just looking at myself. I then noticed a large crowd around The Machine. Some people entered it, never to be seen again. Wonderful music and fantastic images came from the machine, rendering women, men and children its slaves. The Machine and its crowd grew and grew. Some in the crowd wielded awesome power. Others were crazy with delirium after having drank the The Machine's blood. It was a terrible sight to behold.

I shook my head. I didn't like what The Machine had done to me. I didn't like the fact that I had been part of that crowd. That The Machine didn't satisfy me told me I needed something else. I needed to be as I was before The Machine's arrival.

As I walked away from the din, I noticed a few others doing the same. The lucky few, I thought to myself. Then I heard a hum. I decided not to look back. (Omniscient narrator's note: The Machine was actually spinning). I looked up and saw a beautiful world that had been mutilated by The Machine and its crowd.

The sun is beginning to rise.

For Sunny

plenty

  of energy

spent

     mostly

in

    fingers

and

    feet, she

 moves

    gingerly

 in 

  perpetual

       music,

spinning

     through

 the

    advance

 and

    retreat

  of

happy

   ambiguity,

     smiling

  mostly

     at parties

          but

            partly

  in secret

                -by Allan Andre

                    6.11.09

                    Berkeley, CA