My mom
[somewhere around the belly button aches. For a long time now, actually.]
My mom has the best SEO rankings you will ever see. I love how I'm not even kidding! Statistically, she probably has better tracking than many of the companies by which I get paid anywhere from $15 to $25 dollars an hour - or more! to communally end up doing worse than her.
"Take a look" and "give it a try!":
Lines I avoid as I write ads; I don't want to be anywhere near that offensive.
A client can tell when someone doesn't know what a person is talking about.
- I sometimes filter those people
is what I wish I could say, but...who am I to pass judgment?
Who will work - who will not?
Education:
Seriously?
My country rages in social media fire over gender-neutral bathrooms this and politics that.
My country is on Facebook fire or Instagram hatred over an issue people are finally starting to realize is more than common in their day-to-day lives, as it should have been for quite a while now.
You know what my mom and my country have in common?
Aside from her birth place, language, customs, and idioms? From which I draw the same, as one would call home or another a citizen.
My mom and my country are both genuine. True to their colors.
One is flagged, the other one is, also; there are governments in between us here; those internal and those external to this whole border issue. I should not probably be saying this here. My writings (the ONE file in particular) have disappeared in the most sense-full of ways sometimes, by cyber-miracle.
How do I know I will not be shot or plagiarized for speaking up against a country, at any time, anywhere in this world that we live now? Whether that means one flag or another.
I will walk out on a 4th of July tomorrow, hopefully surrounded by loving family and college graduates in the heart of Boston. Launching a canoe in the Charles is to my context like holding a farol as you cross the streets of San José on a 15 de setiembre.
The sound comes on and a notification removes all focus. Like a child who swims on a lake, I get distracted with the fish that swim in my everyday surroundings. My mom, however, shows her colors in the way she creates her literature. Her playfulness, when guided and her spirit not underestimated, brings out the most beautiful of fine-haired laughter. Her cutting-knife, however, is the beautiful pain she is destined to instill in the hearts of people as a means to foster change, and growth, in this world.
I am the daughter (though I wondered yesterday how to call myself a bit less feminine offspring, or how to call myself if neither "mom" nor "dad" ring true to me) of a woman who writes from her full center, regardless of obstacles and circumstances. My genes have a memory of her, sitting down on that chair, going at it as her partner goes golfing. Of writing while the other one looks away at the Ocean while she crafts stories no one would ever believe could be coming out of that ball pen. Like Woolf, she writes to distill and then savor completely.
I do not think editors will lack capturing that. I think copy ad writers like myself need to find better ways of being even more engaging, so that, like one of my clients says, we can be more authentic; to which I add: becoming more real than just real-life patriotism, with the fireworks close to midnight bringing people on screens together on grass, ironically enough.
[The thought finally hits me that I call myself daughter all the time. Vibrations of femininity: accepted.] - old notes to a new revision. [internal scoff in a way]
My mom has the best SEO rankings you will ever see. I love how I'm not even kidding! Statistically, she probably has better tracking than many of the companies by which I get paid anywhere from $15 to $25 dollars an hour - or more! to communally end up doing worse than her.
 |
| Una foto de nadis que no sé ni de dónde saqué. Algo en su textura me llama la atención |
Lines I avoid as I write ads; I don't want to be anywhere near that offensive.
A client can tell when someone doesn't know what a person is talking about.
- I sometimes filter those people
is what I wish I could say, but...who am I to pass judgment?
Who will work - who will not?
Education:
Seriously?
My country rages in social media fire over gender-neutral bathrooms this and politics that.
My country is on Facebook fire or Instagram hatred over an issue people are finally starting to realize is more than common in their day-to-day lives, as it should have been for quite a while now.
You know what my mom and my country have in common?
Aside from her birth place, language, customs, and idioms? From which I draw the same, as one would call home or another a citizen.
My mom and my country are both genuine. True to their colors.
One is flagged, the other one is, also; there are governments in between us here; those internal and those external to this whole border issue. I should not probably be saying this here. My writings (the ONE file in particular) have disappeared in the most sense-full of ways sometimes, by cyber-miracle.
How do I know I will not be shot or plagiarized for speaking up against a country, at any time, anywhere in this world that we live now? Whether that means one flag or another.
Just a random video I shot in NYC
Giving public dance a try
I will walk out on a 4th of July tomorrow, hopefully surrounded by loving family and college graduates in the heart of Boston. Launching a canoe in the Charles is to my context like holding a farol as you cross the streets of San José on a 15 de setiembre.
 |
| 4th of july is now come and gone... |
I am the daughter (though I wondered yesterday how to call myself a bit less feminine offspring, or how to call myself if neither "mom" nor "dad" ring true to me) of a woman who writes from her full center, regardless of obstacles and circumstances. My genes have a memory of her, sitting down on that chair, going at it as her partner goes golfing. Of writing while the other one looks away at the Ocean while she crafts stories no one would ever believe could be coming out of that ball pen. Like Woolf, she writes to distill and then savor completely.
I do not think editors will lack capturing that. I think copy ad writers like myself need to find better ways of being even more engaging, so that, like one of my clients says, we can be more authentic; to which I add: becoming more real than just real-life patriotism, with the fireworks close to midnight bringing people on screens together on grass, ironically enough.
[The thought finally hits me that I call myself daughter all the time. Vibrations of femininity: accepted.] - old notes to a new revision. [internal scoff in a way]
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