The Naked Truth

The first time I ever heard of Snapchat it was in a positive light. It was an app to send funny face or pictures to friends and those embarrassingly funny pictures would “self-destruct” within minutes. The most popular are “selfies”. I use Snapchat on a daily basis; I send horribly embarrassing ugly selfies of myself to my friends, and my family not concerned about those ever popping up again. However, I have recently heard about people using Snapchat for sending dirty picture to others; “sexting” since the picture will be erased within a certain amount of seconds.

Ann Brenoff blogged about how “Certainly, it's the perfect tool for sexting: You get to show off your privates and there's no evidence left for extortion later.”

            BUT… Do these pictures really disappear? HOW is it that they just self-destruct into nothing? Are they saved onto a massive hardrive somewhere? “In recent months, at least two security loopholes, which would allow recipients to save Snapchat images or clips for keeps, were discovered and made public” blogged Dominique Mosbergen.

My Guardian Angel

How scary must it be to hear the word cancer? Mr. Murphy was not my blood relative, but as the years went by and as we grew closer, he became my “adopted” grandfather. He was a cancer victim, and this is my story about my journey with Mr. Murphy.

            Like us, the Murphy’s had no family living in town, so they adopted both my brother and me as their grandchildren, and we adopted them as grandparents.

            Every Sunday after church we would go to their house to eat lunch. Mr. Murphy always had a prank to make me laugh. A few years back on my birthday, Mr. Murphy gave me my present that was very nicely wrapped up. As I tear off the wrapper I see a box to a digital camera. I really wanted a digital camera that year. Thrilled, I rushed to open the box expecting to see a brand new camera. When I finally get the box opened I couldn’t believe my eyes. There was no brand new digital camera, however there was a Ziploc bag filled with cow manure. From this, I learned to not be so materialistic.

On May 20, 2007, he was diagnosed with liver cancer. I saw him only once before he closed his eyes for the last time. He was in bed, had lost weight and was very tired, but even then he still had his wit. Mr. Murphy was notorious for dirty jokes. I remember walking into the room where he was to say goodbye but he signals me to leave the room as my mom walks in. To this day I don’t know what he told her, but it sure did make my mom laugh. Even on his deathbed he had people in stitches.

On July 10, 2007 at the age of 81, he took his last breath. Mr. Murphy taught me to respect and appreciate older people, especially my grandparents. When I visit my grandparents I help them shred papers, make atole, accompany them to the post office, or work out math problems. I realize that my time with them is also limited.

 Mr. Murphy left me with an infinite amount of happy memories. He lived such an admirable life and helped instill life-long qualities in me that will shape me into an adult with a sense of humor, who is not materialistic, appreciates nature and respects the elderly. 

La Cultura

What is culture? Culture is what makes me, me. Not only is it the music I listen to, or the clothes I wear but also everything that I was taught, how I was brought up, the people I met along the way, and what my children will learn from me. The unique thing about culture is you can pick and choose as to what you want to define who you are.

I couldn’t agree more with Clifford Geertz beliefs on culture being more of a “search of meaning”, an interpretation.

Culture is not an individual alone, but the society or group of people that molded that individual.

Coming from a Mexican American family, I have culture oozing through my bones. As I grew older I could see that my parents were raised completely different of each other. Yet, they managed to take bits and pieces from how they were brought up as they molded their lives as one in raising a family of their own. I may not carry every bit of it with me, and I may change some, and create some of my own… that’s where I feel it is how I interpret my culture.

However, this is just the view through my eyes.