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Double tap to zoom out7 Terms to Define Spanish Slang And Their Meanings
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I am an early riser so I am usually up by six am. This means that after a few hours of output, whether it be drawing or writing or web design I start to feel sleepy. So By eleven ish I am ready for a beautiful nap. It is funny how these naps affect me. They almost always feel wonderful and I used to resist them. After all I am not supposed to be "lazy". Napping is for lazy people. I am supposed to do more and more. Make use of the whole day and squeeze in twenty-five hours if I can. But lately I have been in the habit of listening to the things my body and my soul tell me. And it often tells me that it's time for a nap.
Well anyway; today I took a beautiful nap and I had a dream that I was at a big family reunion and we were on this old cobble stone street with a long long bench that we could all sit on. The reunion was in a far away place and everybody in the family was there. People were making their way to the bench to have a seat. I was sitting with my sisters and we were laughing and having a wonderful time. We were all happy. There were people there that I didn't recognize but they were family.
When we were all seated in one single row down this long cobble stone street an older woman announced that she was going to give out slices of cake that was made from a very old family recipe. When she got to me I saw that half the cake was gone and I worried that family members at the end of the bench wouldn't get any but she told me not to worry. I took a slice and put it in my mouth. It was delicious and sweet and while tasting this I woke up.
I woke up with a glow. It was such a beautiful dream. An old city, cobblestone streets, a beautiful slice of cake, and the whole family.
I went into my art room and sat at the computer but it didn't feel right so I picked up my guitar and started playing a made up melody. It was sounding pretty good but a feeling hit me. There had been a song tucked away in the back of my head for a very long time. It was a song that I, and believe me when I say this, a song that I hadn't played in twenty years, and I hadn't thought about in ten years, and hadn't heard on the radio for five years. But it came back to me. I carefully felt my way through the fingering and it clicked. I played the whole first refrain of the song.
How did my left hand remember what notes to hit? How did my right hand know which strings to pluck? How did my ear recollect exactly how it should sound?
This makes me think about the nature of mind and body. They say that every seven years you have a new body. Even the bones have been replaced by new cells and all the old cells are gone. So it has been about three bodies ago that I learned how to play this song and I haven't played it since. What is this force that allowed me to remember? What is this sustenance that continues even though the cells die? This reminds me of that Dylan Thomas poem: "The Force that Through the Green Fuse Shoots the Flower"
What is this force within me that continues on even though all of the matter is replaced? And will it continue on even after all the matter in me turns to dust?
I have recorded the first refrain of the song I remembered and if you would like to hear it you can click on the link above now.
I know they learned a lesson to refrain from touting their operation.
I ask that, in the meantime, you refrain from attacking any Immortal traveling the road to the castle.
Dean was hoping his wife would refrain from expressing her concerns about the woman, but no such luck.
A few minutes later the soft refrain of a violin drifted into the kitchen.
A simple refrain of a childish song or the monotonous chaunt of the ploughman touched a hidden chord and thrilled her to tears.
After the birth of his first child, Augusta, in 1737, Frederick was ordered by the king to quit St James' Palace, and the foreign ambassadors were requested to refrain from visiting him.
On the one hand, conservative scholars insist upon the close material relation between the constituent sources; critical scholars, on the other hand, while recognizing much that is relatively untrustworthy, refrain from departing from the general outlines of the canonical history more than is absolutely necessary.
It is alleged, further, that at this time certain Jews who could not refrain from intermarriage with ' Reference may be made to H.
The aim is not self-destruction, but self-preservation; and yet the ethics of Manichaeism appears in point of fact as thoroughly ascetic. The Manichaean had, above all, to refrain from sensual enjoyment, shutting himself up against it by three seals - the signaculum oris, manus and sinus.
It seems therefore consonant alike with prudence and reverence to refrain from attempting to combine afresh into a single picture the materials derivable from the various documents, and to endeavour instead to describe the main contents of the sources from which our knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ as an historical personage is ultimately drawn, and to observe the picture of Him which each writer in turn has offered to us.
In accordance with universal ideas of the reality of the " name," there are tribes who will refrain from mentioning the serpent.
Before our coda, allow us to sing one last refrain .
He will refrain from all interference.
He will refrain from planting.
It is important to refrain from action, on the basis of any such information.
The people, giving judgment, could scarce refrain from violence, and signified their verdict by their acclamations.
You must refrain from action.
You must refrain from all interference.
She drew her wool down through the canvas and, scarcely able to refrain from laughing, stooped as if trying to make out the pattern.
She could not refrain from weeping at these words.
On the way home, Prince Andrew could not refrain from asking Kutuzov, who was sitting silently beside him, what he thought of tomorrow's battle.
Though he did not want to remind the Rostovs of Bolkonski, Pierre could not refrain from making them happy by the news of their son's having received a decoration, so he sent that printed army order and Nicholas' letter to the Rostovs, keeping the appeal, the bulletin, and the other orders to take with him when he went to dinner.
To Princess Mary it was strange that now, at a moment when such sorrow was filling her soul, there could be rich people and poor, and the rich could refrain from helping the poor.
She knew her remarks sounded unnatural, but could not refrain from asking some more questions.
Time has gone by which I could not detain, the arm I then lifted is no longer the same as the arm I now refrain from lifting, nor is the air in which I lifted it the same that now surrounds me.
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1. In English my name means hope. In Spanish it means too many letters. It means sadness, it means waiting.
This quotation, from the section “My Name,” occurs before Esperanza says her name for the first time. Esperanza’s characterization of her name shows how she channels her dissatisfaction with her given name into creativity and word play. What Esperanza says here about the word esperanza is neither intuitive nor true. In Spanish, esperanza means “hope.” The word does not have a dictionary definition in English. When Esperanza says her name means “waiting,” she has taken the Spanish verb esperar. which means “to wait or expect,” and superimposed it on the noun hope. Similarly, sadness may come from the opposite of esperanza. desesperarse. or “despair. ” Later in the chapter Esperanza says she would like to give herself a new name, but she has already given her old name new meaning, using a similar-looking word with a different definition. By refusing to accept the word’s conventional definitions, Esperanza shows that she possesses a writer’s gift for interpretation and storytelling.
On a more literal level, the words Esperanza has chosen to associate with the Spanish meaning of her name are very negative. She has taken a positive word, hope. and given it three negative descriptions. The first, “too many letters,” is a description of the word as it is written. As an American schoolgirl, Esperanza is frustrated by the physical difficulty of her name, which sets her apart from others. Even her siblings, Nenny. Carlos, and Kiki, have simpler, less foreign-sounding names. The next two negative descriptions are associations she has with herself. As her current self with her current name, Esperanza’s life is full of sadness and waiting. Esperanza says her inner self is described by the name “Zeze the X.” Zeze the X is the version of Esperanza who does not belong in the barrio.
2. Until then I am a red balloon, a balloon tied to an anchor.
Esperanza describes herself as a red balloon in “Boys and Girls” before she has made any friends in her new neighborhood. Until she has a best friend with whom she can share her secrets and who will understand her jokes, she believes she will be this red balloon. The image of the balloon suggests that she feels she is floating in anticipation of something and that she feels isolated. The color red suggests that she stands out in the neighborhood. Esperanza finds friends, Lucy and Rachel, soon after this section, but the feeling of being a balloon persists. She is still floating because she feels she does not fit in on Mango Street, and she is still isolated because she does not share her deepest secrets with her friends. In “Laughter” we learn that Esperanza’s sister Nenny, not her new friends, laughs at her jokes without her having to explain them.
Esperanza has chosen to think of herself as something floating, and in this way she is similar to some of the other children on Mango Street. Both Meme Ortiz and Angel Vargas fall from great heights in early vignettes. Meme breaks both his arms, while Angel dies. Both children are trying to fly in order to escape their lives on Mango Street. In this quote Esperanza describes herself as floating, but also as tethered to the earth. When she finally abandons her tether, she would like to fly away instead of falling, as the others have. She will either have to find a way to return to the ground without hurting herself, or to fly away without falling. By the end of The House on Mango Street. Esperanza discovers she is not unique in her neighborhood, but does, in fact, belong there. Only at that point can Esperanza let go of this particular metaphor and realize that she cannot float away from her community for good. She must leave it gradually and eventually return.
3. She looked out the window her whole life, the way so many women sit their sadness on an elbow. I wonder if she made the best with what she got or was she sorry because she couldn’t be all the things she wanted to be. Esperanza. I have inherited her name, but I don’t want to inherit her place by the window.
Esperanza says this of her great-grandmother and namesake, Esperanza. Her great-grandmother is the first of many women in The House on Mango Street who spend their lives looking out the window and longing for escape. Esperanza resolves not to end up like her great-grandmother even before she meets the other trapped women on Mango Street. These modern women, including Mamacita, Rafaela, Minerva (whose window is broken), and Sally (who has to look at the floor instead of out the window) give Esperanza an even more vivid picture of what it is like to be trapped, hardening her resolve not to be like the first Esperanza.
By repeatedly connecting the window image to the trapped women on Mango Street, Cisneros depicts a row of third-floor apartments as jail cells. Some of the women are stuck in these cells because of their husbands, but Esperanza implies that some of them could do more to change their situations. Esperanza wonders if her great-grandmother made the best of her situation, or if instead she turned her anger at her husband inward, and therefore hurt herself more than her husband could have. Esperanza asks this question only once, and she does not apply it to any of the other women she meets. Her capacity for both empathy and pity grows as she understands their particular stories better than the story of her great-grandmother, whom she never met.
4. Sally, you lied, you lied. He wouldn’t let me go. He said I love you, I love you, Spanish girl.
Esperanza says this in “Red Clowns,” after a group of boys has sexually assaulted her at a carnival. She repeats the accusation that her friend lied, blaming Sally for the assault instead of the boys who have hurt and traumatized her. Esperanza blames Sally for not returning after she goes off with an older boy, but the accusation goes deeper than that. Esperanza is angry that girls perpetuate the myth that sex goes hand in hand with love. “I love you, Spanish girl” is a taunting, violent refrain that has no place in the picture of sex that popular culture presents to young girls. Esperanza understands that popular media may never change, but at the very least the women who have more experience, like Sally, should debunk the myth so reality would not be such a surprise to girls like Esperanza.
Esperanza’s accusation here is the culmination of a theme that is implicit in much of The House on Mango Street. men will not change, so women need to help each other. In “The Monkey Garden,” the section before “Red Clowns,” Esperanza sees Tito’s mother as complicit in Sally’s exploitation, since she refuses to see that her son is doing something wrong. Esperanza reacts by crying alone in a corner of the Monkey Garden. In “Red Clowns,” Esperanza’s pain is more acute. She screams out her accusation. Her experience with the disloyal Sally leads to Esperanza’s resolution to come back to help the other women on Mango Street once she leaves. She does not want to leave the women behind in a dangerous place the way Sally left her.
5. No, this isn’t my house I say and shake my head as if shaking could undo the year I’ve lived here. I don’t belong. I don’t ever want to come from here.
This is Esperanza’s reply to Alicia in “Alicia & I Talking on Edna’s Steps” after Alicia insists that Esperanza does have a house, and that it is right there on Mango Street. This exchange occurs near the end of the novel, when Esperanza is realizing she does indeed belong on Mango Street. Instead of insisting that she does not belong, here she says she doesn’t want to belong, which suggests that Esperanza understands that she actually does. She has realized that she is not intrinsically different from the other women in her neighborhood. She has met other women in the neighborhood who write, women who share her desire to escape, women who are interested in boys, and women, like Alicia, who desire education. Her previous feelings of superiority and difference were only childish ways of obscuring the truth: Mango Street is part of Esperanza. No matter how far she goes, she will never truly escape it.
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