Tackling a Rainy Day

"Tropical Storm Debby spawns fatal tornado in Florida, drenches coast" - CNN


Needless to say, many of us Floridians have had a rainy day. After a couple of conversations with friends and family in different parts of the state, I came to the realization that a rainy day equates to a lazy, dull, or lethargic day. Although I usually blame rain for making me sleepy, today I decided to overcome this drowsiness brought on by Mother Nature. Without further ado, here are some ideas of things to do to keep you active during a downpour:


1. Embrace the rain. Just because it's raining you shouldn't lock yourself up. Today I had lunch with a fraternity brother and a friend at a Lebanese restaurant. The rain actually cooled the area off a bit, so it was pleasant not to be sweating after leaving your car for once. After lunch, we visited the only mall in this city, and then we toured west Gainesville for a bit. The movies are also an alternative.


2. Don't nap - clean. It's easy to get sleepy on a rainy day, but use that time to clean something. My mom always says, "if you're bored it's because you're not doing something that you should be doing." And like always, she's right. After spending two weekends at home in Brandon and another two in Miami, my room accumulated enough chores for me to take care of. For example, dust. Dust is everywhere, and I have yet to understand why it exists.

My dresser after being dusted.

My dresser on a regular day.

3. Exercise. There are so many things you can do in the comfort of your home like jumping jacks, wall-sits, push-ups, sit-ups, etc. I'm not a fan of all of that because it requires a lot of dedication and time..and I'm not usually willing to do all of that on a daily basis, but I'm determined to shed the pounds I've gained in the last year. After feeling the burn, cool down by jogging.

4. Jog in the rain. I've been wanting to do this for a while, and I finally had the opportunity. You should  prepare accordingly, like wear light clothing, put your phone in a Ziploc® bag, etc. After jogging, hang your clothes to dry and place a towel under them to collect excess water. Take your shoes apart so that they don't begin to smell.

5. Fix your clothes. By "fix" I mean wash, fold, iron, put away, and/or arrange your clothes. Luckily today I just had to arrange my clothes to separate the things I care for more from the ones I can live without if my place burned down. Tomorrow, since it'll be raining again, I plan on ironing some of my shirts to get them back in my closet...finally.

6. Practice the languages you know. I'm big on languages. My first one is Spanish, followed by Italian that my mom tried teaching us from a young age and that I regained in college, then English, then French. I feel comfortable in all those four. I speak Hindi/Urdu and Arabic mediocrely, so I don't consider that I speak those fluently, just to get by. I understand Portuguese almost fluently, but speak it mediocrely as well. I can read Russian, but don't know what I'm telling you. So the last two I almost never bring up in conversation for obvious reasons.

Reading Le Petit Prince and typing what I could into Arabic.

After watching T.V. for an hour, I called it a day. It may not seem to be the most exciting list of activities, but these are things that I enjoy doing for the most part, and they definitely kept me busy on this gloomy day.

Until next time!

If Scars Had Words

Every day, at some random point, I spot a scar that is placed on the left side of my right thumb. It's about an inch long. Nothing too too fancy. No one really knows I have it until they stare at my hand like creepers. But despite how insignificant this little scar may seem, it reminds me of where I come from on a daily basis.

My scarred thumb next to my little friend's 9month old thumb.

I am truly blessed - not lucky nor unaware of the struggles I've encountered on this short journey of 21 years called life. As I type on my laptop, I think about my exact location on Earth and within the space of time. Today I am sitting in my apartment in, what I call, the armpit of the state of Florida (a.k.a Gainesville), in the U.S., in the Northern hemisphere, west of the Prime Meridian. But I have come a very long way...physically. Twenty-one years ago I was in a crib, in my parent's house, in the Southern hemisphere, in a little paradise of a country called Ecuador.

Now, I'm sure there are enough blog entries out there about immigrants and their unique stories to last a lifetime, but this one is worth looking over. I feel that getting a sense of who I am from the get-go is important.


I was born into a privileged family in Guayaquil, Ecuador. My father's side of the family descended from English businessmen/merchants/nobles....quite frankly I hear better things about my family from Ecuadorian strangers than from my actual relatives. It's a fact that the Gilberts have been influential doctors, athletes, politicians, entrepreneurs, etc. so it's no wonder that a fortune existed at one point. My mom's side of the family arrived to South America about 4 generations ago from Oviedo, Spain. The Lara y Granda family split to Venezuela and Ecuador upon arriving to the not-so-new world. My maternal grandmother then married my grandfather, a member of the Paredes family. 

That's me in the middle - waving at the age of 2wks.

By the time I was born in 1991, my parents and sister Gisella moved into a house within a neighborhood set aside for the sailors/marines and their families. We were able to live there because a portion, or perhaps all, of the neighborhood was owned by my mother's uncle. The house had one level and was very spacious from what my childhood mind remembers. We had a woman to wash our clothes, a cook, a gardener, a nanny, and a handy-man who walked my sister and me to our "jardín", or pre-school, but none of them lived with us. Our huge backyard was my domain. By the time I was 3, if I was missing, anyone could find me playing with geese and ducks, singing hymns to them, or running through the mango and guava trees. Because I was an explorer at such a young age I thought I could do ANYTHING. Which is why one fine day, I cut my finger.


My parents took out an old T.V. to be thrown out later in the week. It didn't work for some reason, but I thought I could fix it because at that age I thought wiggling the antenna would fix anything on a T.V. So I found a piece of scrap metal and tried forcing it onto the antenna to make it longer and fix whatever was wrong with it. Applying all my force to join the metals, the scrap piece slipped downward, sliding and slicing my thumb. I associated blood with dead animals since I had seen many brought to the kitchen to be cooked, so I freaked out. Our gardener saw me bleeding and came running for me, but by that point I left a little trail of blood across the front patio and ran through the living and dining rooms until the trail ended at my mom's lap. She took care of my battle wound, but the scar remained.


Every time my scar comes into sight I remember the trail of blood that I left behind on the patio..and then my mind wonders to memories of pristine happiness, of anniversaries, birthdays, new year eves, "carnavales", etc. So much happened on that patio, and I refuse to forget that feeling of bliss and uninhibited happiness that I felt from all those experiences.


These memories are the energy reserves I need in order to continue when the present leaves me hanging.

My second birthday with my parents.