Jul

“I heard a good one on the radio today. ‘I’d rather be governed by the first 50 names in the Massachusetts phonebook than by the elites currently in Washington.”

“I’ll take that one step further and say I’d rather be governed by the first 50 random people I meet on the streets of Tijuana when I arrive there than by Schwarzenegger.”

“Whoa, okay. I thought you were going to say Comic-Con and I was like, ‘Nonononono!’”

Nov

Before you read this blog, please waste three minutes of your life reading this: http://www.cnn.com/2009/LIVING/wayoflife/11/05/o.change.name.after.marriage/index.html

I am concerned that the author of this article is so incensed about 80% of women in America choosing to change their surname after marriage. Does she not have more important or interesting things to harp on about, in the realms of feminism? Haven’t we moved on to more important things, ladies? Perhaps the breaking of glass ceilings? Who would have thought that anyone gave a damn, in 2009, about wasting time worrying about what names we choose to give ourselves. Isn’t that what feminism is about; providing women with the equal opportunity to make choices?

Any one of those famous people she used as examples would be no less talented and no less who they are, had they changed their surnames, they just wouldn’t be a “brand” anymore. That’s right, these women are all brands and their names are marketing tools. Isn’t that counterproductive to the feminist cause? Do you not think there were multiple meetings with agents, public relations representatives, and management firms about each and every one of those marriages and how the name would need to stay the same so that the dollar value could be protected with the familiarity of the name? Those women no longer own their names and those names are not who they are – they are the labels for products or services or talents they provide.

My strongest connection to my former surname was my grandfather and he passed away in 2006. My own family is disjointed and scattered to the winds – so why continue to use a surname with which I no longer feel a bond? I am proud to be my husband’s wife and thus, changed my surname after marriage. I did not do that for my first marriage, because it was not a man or family to which I felt especially connected. Short of selecting a new surname for the both of us, one that was not connected to my former surname or to Muzquiz, I felt much more comfortable becoming a Muzquiz than keeping my former surname. I am not a brand. Changing my name does not erase my past, nor does it negate the talents I have or remove the things I have to offer the world. I am still ME. So, yes, it is about personal identity. I just happen to choose to identify as being proud to be Mrs. Muzquiz.

Faith Salie, before you go parading your idealistic and misguided blathering to the rest of the world about how we should live our lives exactly like you, perhaps you should take a closer look at WHY 80% of us do CHOOSE to take on our husband’s surname. We all have our individual reasons and have made a choice to take on a new name for ourselves.

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title.

Jun

Watching CNN, lately, has been bordering on intense. I’m glued to the television this morning, waiting to hear more news on the “illegal” Iranian protests scheduled for today. I almost wish I lived there, so that I could join and show my support for those who want their right to a voice in how their country is run. The determination of the masses, despite being threatened with violence from police and military presence, is nothing short of admirable and dare I say… heroic.

I remember watching almost this exact same situation unfold, nine years ago, in the Federal Republic of Yugoslav. At the time, I was living in Europe, so it was receiving around-the-clock news coverage. From a beaten-up recliner in my tiny living room, I spent countless hours watching a revolution unfold. It started out as passionate protesting, with large groups making their way through Belgrade toward federal buildings. Eventually, due to police and military involvement, things turned violent. Windows were smashed, cars were set on fire, punches were thrown, everyday objects became projectiles.

One of the key turning points of the afternoon was a police station being breached by the crowds. At that point, the news reporters went from all business to joining their audience as intrigued observers, who could just sit back and watch as a revolution became emboldened enough to oust a corrupt government, who gained position through fraud and oppression. We watched as something, which had been building for years, finally boiled over and spilled into the streets. And we watched as the world changed, during the course of an afternoon.

Due to a nearly 100% media blackout from within Tehran, imposed by the Iranian government, the information is sparse and the media coverage is very much unlike the situation in Belgrade. What little information that IS getting out is purely citizen journalism, thanks to the power of social media and mobile technology. Pictures on Twitter, messages on Facebook, narratives in 130 characters via SMS. Uncensored, unfiltered, and as it happens.

Having been part of the social networking/media movement for more than a decade and having worked in the mobile technology sector – directly related to social networking – it makes me so proud to be part of something so important. Even though I have only played a minuscule role, in the development and usage of social media, it makes my heart do backflips to see the way in which it’s being used. So many people dismissed social networking as kids’ stuff and mindless vanity, but here it is… at the forefront of showcasing a rapidly changing world and providing the sole clear window into a situation which our grandchildren will be reading about in history books.

So, while I may not have that beaten-up recliner in that tiny living room or live video from a country’s capitol as an enormous show of dissent takes place… I am still glued to the television and am able to hear reports from the scene, not just from those observing, but from those who are directly involved and determined to have a voice, no matter what the obstacles or price may be.

I’ll leave you with one of my favorite quotes: “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

May

My grandfather was shot in WWII, fighting Germans in France. He survived and went on to live a very long life, but he lost many friends… fellow soldiers. My biological father was an infantryman in Vietnam. His experiences drove him to alcohol abuse, by the time he returned. In the several years following his return, he slowly drank himself to death, passing away when I was six years old, having never known me.

My husband served in Iraq for a year and a half, both in Mosul and Baghdad. He also saw the loss of several fellow friends & soldiers. One of which is named on a bracelet Pani wears, 24/7. I read that soldier’s story and his legacy.com guestbook, thanks to a new layer available for Google Earth. Reading through the grief that his fiance, stepmother, and Tia all felt – and continue to feel – reminded me that tomorrow is not just a day off of work. Nor is it a reason to get drunk or barbecue with friends. It’s a day of remembrance, for those who have died, so that we can live freely.

While you are all out enjoying this beautiful weekend, please spare a minute or two and be thankful for those who passed away, before their time, and the families who sacrificed their loved ones… so that you could have the right to enjoy the three-day weekend in a manner you see fit.

Jan

Due to the tragic death of one of my parents, I’ve been noticeably absent from this blog. As much as the passing is something I’d like to discuss here, the surviving parent has a hang-up about anything regarding her personal life being written about publicly on the internet. So, I’ll respect her wishes and keep the details to myself for the time being. Maybe after the shock wears off and I’m done being angry at the perpetrator of the boneheaded mistake which led to my stepdad’s passing… oh, who am I kidding? That anger isn’t ever going away and the shock will never wear off. So that’s that.

My husband has officially been deployed and is gone until December 2009. He leaves the country within the next week or two and will be at his final destination at some point in the near future, which will allow him to be online more often and our communication to stop suffering from the constant training and missions that they embark upon, in the run up to their official departure. Needless to say, the adaptation to his not being here is not easy and I’ve been spending a lot of time at my mom’s house. She feels too alone at her home and I feel too alone at mine. The only beings to keep me company here, at home, are the furry idiots – although, they’re more like roommates who don’t contribute to our living expenses.

Future plans include the possibility of enrolling in radio broadcasting classes at the local community college, continuing to learn Italian (Rosetta Stone HOLLAH!), and talking to a local glass blower about learning the craft, so that I can start making plugs and other nifty ear jewelry (Shhh! Don’t tell anyone.)… and of course, continuing with the awesome baking endeavors. There are also plans to frequently visit the San Diego Zoo, photograph a heck of a lot more, go camping, take a few road trips, and hello? ZOMBIEWALK!

Speaking of zombiewalk plans, we have a small secret event happening on January 22nd for undead, aged 21 and over, at a venue in San Diego. Music is involved in this zombie outbreak. If you want details, drop me a line, because it should be pretty awesome.

And yes, I will be updating this blog much more often. I promise.

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