I Remember: The day he chose me

When I was in third grade – the second time (I’ve explained a bit here) – I was a bushy haired nerd invisible to boys.

I think this was key on my attitude towards men now;  I had a lot of time to observe from the sidelines and developed a good sense of how boys behaved, their likes and preferences.  Afterwards, when I was in college and muster enough courage to begin talking to guys, I knew how to do it.  I could talk cars, movies, I knew boys really like to see a girl laughing sincerely, having fun, a smart fact every now and then is absolutely necessary.  I was never intimidated by a man, no matter his position or knowledge (and I’ve met some extraordinary men).

But it all it started when I was in third grade.   No boys from my classroom every talked to me, unless they were making fun of my thin legs.  Until Francisco came along.

Francisco was easily the most handsome boy among the three third grade groups.  He had black hair that was always perfectly styled, even after he played basketball.  His face was perfectly contoured, he had beautiful dark eyes and really long eyelashes.  All the girls were crazy about him.  Older girls were included.  Heck, even the teachers would tell him how cute he was.

My best friend was talking about this a few days after he started in the school when I told her I knew Francisco.  We had been in the same school when I was in preschool.  OMG she said, or whatever was equivalent in 1987.  I was so lucky I knew him.  Except he, as every other boy in school, never talked to me.

One day though, while we were waiting for our classroom to be opened something amazing happened.

Francisco was standing on top of the stairs with two other boys and most of the girls in our classroom, including me and my best friend, were sitting in the steps beneath them.  One of the boys asked Francisco “so, which girl do you like?” He said he didn’t know, he liked a few.   (Oh, yes, Francisco was quite the womaniser from an early age.)  “which one do you like most?”

And Francisco stood up and looked down.  I gazed straight into his eyes, which I now think was something bold for a girl who had no communication with boys.  He smirked and pointing at me said “her”.

Everyone started oohing, my best friend pushed me to him while I refused.  I smiled softly at him and returned to my place in the steps.

A few moments later our teacher opened the classroom and everything went back to normal, but for a few moments I remember being the girl that the cutest boy chose.  It taught me that could happen.  Little did I know the story would repeat itself later.


Wednesday Wisdom: I made a bonsai

Have you ever heard someone talking about something you both know in a way that made you wonder if they were talking about the same thing you experienced?

It’s called perspective.  Our brains filter everything we see or know and manipulate it to fit as per our experiences and feelings.

Pretty much how someone manipulates a bonsai to be something it is not, we sometimes form in our heads a much different perception of reality.

I know, because I made my own bonsai.

I wanted to believe I had a good relationship.  I trimmed off all the pain, all the hurtful words.  I made most of it smaller and unimportant and I kept believing I was in a good place.  I could be happy if I just worked harder at it, if I just changed more, if I made everything perfect.

But I couldn’t make anything perfect.  I couldn’t keep bending over backwards and still feel happy. I wasn’t even me anymore.

My relationship was my bonsai.  I made all the suffering much smaller than it really was and I thought it could work that way.

And then one day I stood in front of my bonsai.  I saw it towering over my entire life.  It overshadowed everything that I was, and in front of it I felt small, like I had never felt before.  I felt insignificant and unimportant.

So I stepped away from the shadow of that giant tree that for so long I had tried to make a bonsai and then I started seeing myself again.

I was there, and all of me is much bigger than that tree.

Tuesdays of Texture | Week 43 of 2016

Tuesdays of Texture is a really awesome weekly feature.  You can read about it over here; but the short version is I want to see a bit of your world so link up your post in the comments!

Hereditary texture?  YES.

That flask was my grandfather’s.  It resides inside this bar.  We recently moved a few things around the house (and by a few things I mean we accommodated furniture to suit Little J’s room better – and yes, I’m calling her Little J now because she’s three years old and can not only form her own ideas, but communicate them, in many instances better than most adults I know) and we opened the bar by accident and I spent the usual two hours just stroking every glass and wooden cup in there when I realised this was my next texture.
I suspect it has never held anything because it smells like new.  That’s very much like my grandfather.  In case it doesn’t come off clearly, one side features Don Quijote and the other Sancho Panza.


Last week’s participations were amazing and very much worth a second look, thanks everyone!


Have a great day and remember to share a bit of it with me!

Dancing Mondays: Lin Manuel’s Monologue SNL Edition

By now you should be of the opinion that Lin Manuel Miranda is one of the awesomest humans ever.

He’s cool, he’s brilliant, he exudes positivity, he’s handsome, and he can make a song from any words you throw at him.  So, it shouldn’t be surprising that his monologue when hosting Saturday Night Life was THE BOMB.

Try to watch it without having his hands distract you.  It takes practice, but it can be done.  That is completely normal by the way, I mean, Lin Manuel is very enthusiastic but Puerto Ricans speak with their hands.  Also, DANCING!

You can also watch him doing the Wheel of Freestyle here if you have a couple more minutes to spare before tackling your morning.

So don’t throw away your shot and slay this Monday like the boss you are.

I Remember: Her wet hair

What I remember the most is the back of her uniform being wet from the middle of her back down and her hair dripping on it.

Every free moment we had she ran to the bathroom to wet her hair in the sink.  It started with just running her wet hands through her hair but in a few days she was dipping her head into the open faucet.  It meant that her uniform was wet pretty much all day long.

She would rather walk around as if her head had just left a shower than have her natural curls be dry and free.  She topped the look with red lipstick.  One that she needed to remove before every class because we weren’t allowed red lipstick at our school.

Wet hair, red lipstick and a tough attitude.  That was her thing.

She was tough enough that guys teased her about liking girls – even though she was making the biggest efforts to appear attractive and easy to all of them, often throwing herself at them – and she spat a slew of dirty remarks back at them with such speed and ease that it was clear their words couldn’t make a dent on her.

She took that spitting part pretty seriously too.  In fact, the most famous girl fight in my entire ten years in school (and probably for a couple of years afterwards too) featured her spitting the face of her opponent (another very tough girl who could never see that one coming) and ending up the fight with both girls writhing in the floor pulling their hair.

I have something from each one of my classmates edged on my memories, having been with most of them for ten years.  What I remember the most about this girl was that the way her hair was dripping on her reflected how much she wanted to be accepted.

Enough that she walked around looking like someone hosed her head.

Tuesdays of Texture | Week 42 of 2016

Tuesdays of Texture is a super cool weekly feature.  You can read about it over here; but the short version is I want to see a bit of your world so link up your post in the comments!

A photo posted by @naramilee on

Can you spot them cuties? Look here:

A photo posted by @naramilee on

Surprise texture edition!

And brief one; I’m linking all participations of last week here later on – as Kanye would say “excuse me, I have a family emergency” (who thought it would be possible to one day quote Kanye West without saying something offensive?) – remember you can see them all together in the comments of last week’s post; https://narami.wordpress.com/2016/10/04/tuesdays-of-texture-week-41-of-2016/

Or by scrolling my tweet feed.

Updated to add links (as promised!), check all participations here:

Thanks to everyone who participated! Loved last week’s images.

Have a beautiful day with cuteness, and remember to share a bit of it with me!

Tuesdays of Texture | Week 41 of 2016


Tuesdays of Texture is a really awesome weekly feature.  You can read about it over here; but the short version is I want to see a bit of your world so link up your post in the comments!

Found this rock on the last walk Baby J and I shared before moving out of the Hardcore Country Life.  It’s one of those that left me shock in the beginning when they told me those mountains used to be the ocean, one of those that I can’t get over discovering.

A photo posted by @naramilee on

A photo posted by @naramilee on

Other pics are from the beach.  I had a collection of rock photos in my cell phone for no other reason than I just love to watch those textures.

Don’t miss the fun of watching these amazing participations,  last week it was a record breaking amount of them and they are all awesome!  Thanks to everyone that participated!

#TuesdaysOfTexture from #TheHighline above #ChelseaMarket #newyorkcity #Manhattan

A photo posted by Norman Frampton (@norm2.0) on


Go have a magical Tuesday, and remember to share  a bit of it with me!


Dancing Mondays: Roadhouse Blues Edition

Let’s go classic today.

Yeah. I wrote it once, that one day when a man really loves me he’s going to gift me the entire The Doors collection.

That sound really  soothes this brain of mine.

Kick off a great Monday peeps!  Lots of peace and energy for you. 

Tuesdays of Texture | Week 40 of 2016

Tuesdays of Texture is a really awesome weekly feature.  You can read about it over here; but the short version is I want to see a bit of your world so link up your post in the comments!

texture on river rock




Did I mention that the trek to this river was… a little on the harsh side?  That we had to walk up a road and then enter private farming land (with permission, because everyone knows everyone) and then spiral down a high mountain through a thin path so steep that we had to hold on to bushes and trees to not slip down?


No?  My brain has a badass defensive system.  My mom was commenting on it, I forget the most horrible things some people have said to me, but remember the best and happiest moments with them.  Which is an awesome way to feel lighter and pick yourself up after an emotional down, but is also problematic when you need to stand up for yourself.

Like, the blackout?  in a few weeks I won’t remember how Baby J and I slept drenched in sweat before my father was able to find a power plant that could connect the fans (and the fridge), or how I heated three different pre-made foods before I gave up and made white rice-alone- for Baby J because I’ve gotten her used to fresh homemade food and the downside was that I needed to find such food in an island with no power and no gas stove. (Am buying a portable one as soon as I have a few bucks.)

I actually freaked out and headed to Wendy’s thinking I might find something to eat but then I saw the line getting to the end of the place and decided not to risk a two hour wait line, with a tired Baby J.

But all I will remember later will be how much we played together and how much we enjoyed the little simple things. Although, there was a hashtag on facebook about how we “went back to being people ” because the blackout made us go outside, talk to people, watch the stars; and I’m not taking any of that crap. That blackout was a nightmare for anyone who medically needed power and for everyone with a full fridge or freezer.

Anyway.  It was a thirty minute intense trek going up back from the river.  I stopped three times to catch my breath, both because it was so hard and because my fitness condition is around -192% at this point.

Go hop over this beautiful participations shared last week:


Have a happy day!  And remember to share a bit of it with me!