Don’t want no flowers when I’m dead

Don’t want no flowers when I’m dead.

Trying the “Press this” button for the first time. Let’s see how it goes.

This month is the 29th anniversary of my mother’s death. She was 34 when she died, a life lost to domestic violence.

I always gave her flowers on Mother’s day and on her birthday. I should have given her flowers every day. But then again, when you’re that young sometimes you don’t think.


My first Canadian party

I’m going through difficult times and I haven’t been in the mood for writing so I thought I’d share with you some of my favourite posts. This one I wrote a while back, in the old Blogger days

Summer Solstice Musings

So, here I am… In Canada. The dream of my life!

Now comes the adjusting and the learning. Some situations are quite funny actually. Like the time when I was invited to my first Canadian party.

I get invited to this party -I had been living here for about a month or two.

Naturally, I am very excited. I show up fashionably late. You see, in Colombia people are always late -particularly for parties. You tell them the party starts at 10 pm, they show up at 11:30. You tell them it starts at 9 pm, they show up at 10:30. You tell them it starts at 8 pm, they think you are joking. Parties down there really don’t “start” till past 11 pm and they go way up till 5 am or later.

Continuing with the story. I show up fashionably late. The house is already full of people…

View original post 177 more words

Helping Teen Moms: Giving teen moms the tools to change their lives

It’s so refreshing to read something good about Colombia. And not because good people or good acts are rare. On the contrary. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t true.

But there’s so much poverty and so much injustice.

I was happy to read this


By Kathleen Toner, CNN

Cartagena, Colombia (CNN) — When a 12-day-old boy died in her arms, Catalina Escobar was devastated.

She was working as a volunteer in the maternity clinic at one of the largest hospitals in Cartagena, Colombia. At that time — October 2000 — such incidents weren’t that unusual; on average, at least one infant a day died at the overcrowded and underfunded facility. But when Escobar learned that the baby’s teenage mother had not been able to raise the money for treatment that would’ve saved his life, she was crushed.

“His mother [needed] $30 that I had in my pocket. I will never forget that,” she said. “It was a preventable death.”

Less than a week later, Escobar endured another, more personal loss: her second son, 16-month-old Juan Felipe, died in a tragic accident when he fell from the balcony of her home. She was overwhelmed by…

View original post 1,149 more words


THIS makes me VERY angry!!!

Guys (and some gals too), why is it that you always choose to be blind at Rape Culture?

This has to stop!

Here is Letter #322. It and the other letter are below the jump because it’s fucking creepy in there.

Edited to Add: It’s frankly depressing that this post has struck a chord with so many people, but I’m grateful and honored to be able to help the letter writers and to have given voice to what so many people were feeling. Unfortunately the demands of moderating this discussion have become overwhelming this week, so as of Monday, August 13th comments are locked. We’ll pick up this discussion some other time. Thank you for all of your insightful contributions and for making this one of the best commentspaces on the Web.</EDIT>

View original post 5,174 more words