Atheist Reviews - A Natural History of Love by Diane Ackerman

I just put down A Natural History of Love by Diane Ackerman, and I must say that it did not make my top list of books people must read. The book goes through how different cultures and era's expressed their love, why men like the Indy 500, and women tend to like horses, the love of children, pets, and how love can ruin, or fix lives.

The best part of this book was the history section. It seems to me that the way we express love is a sort of evolution of a memeplex, sort of like religion. In this book it is apparent that ideas about love, such as homosexual love, marriage ceremony, beauty in youth, and infidelity, are not new. The only things that have changed are the cultures. What does seem to be a luxury, according to her book, is romantic love. She cites many times in the civilized world, where women were traded like objects to create social bonds. Many cultures even today marry their women to young (or old men) without the women even knowing about it. The men then have a right (according to certain laws or social constructs) to possess the women, and to force the women to bear his children. While this sounds frightening, it does not seem unthinkable. We as americans have the right to choose who we love (but unfortunately we do not have the right to choose who we marry), and this right is a luxury that has been given to us. Many religions and cultures give that right to the parents, and I can easily see why.

For people unfamiliar with the struggle between parents and their children I would ask you to read these previous posts to my blog:

My Mom's Problem With Taboo
Mom Discriminates Against Atheist
Mom Thinks I Smoke Pot
Mom Steals Shoes and Rips Jeans
Mom Finally Decides To Put My Clothes Where They Go

This is somewhat an issue of control and freedom. Parents in many cultures have controlled their children for so long while the children were young, that when the children grow up it is difficult for them to let go. As a matter of fact, many parents choose to cast their children out of the household for disobedience. This is normal in american culture as well, or else the saying “As long as you live under my house you will obey my rules” will not make any sense.

While this book was very insightful, and the facts contained within it were interesting, there were certain portions which I found overly poetic. The author, as a teacher of english, took great lengths to describe scenes poetically, and sometimes, in my opinion, she overused metaphors to the point where the book was sickening.

Compared to the Orchid Thief, which also gave factual information, this book does not stack up. Some of the best parts of this book is when the author spoke about her own personal experiences. She spoke about attending surgeries to children with cleft mouths and noses, and about her own experiences with love for horses, or about her friend who was interested in seeing a psychiatrist for issues involving love. Sometimes explaining the natural history of a particular set of emotions is better explained when ones personal experiences are used to do the explaining, although I perfectly understand why she felt the need to add other cultures in the book.

When she spoke about other cultures I was a bit disappointed. The cultures she spoked about seemed like “other”. Like their love practices and rituals were not our love practices and rituals. It is true that whenever a girl gets married in the U.S.A., she doesn't shave her hair to be less attractive to men, but the emotion of belonging with someone, or to someone still stands. In truth I see more in connection with the various cultures of the world than I see differences.

And to those who do not have the freedom to choose who they love, because of religion, sexual orientation, culture, or societal norms, I simply say this: The zeitgeist through time has been such that this country as a whole, has become gradually more accepting. Accepting of black people first as non slaves, and then as truly equal (in terms of legality, although I believe racism still exists), accepting of women in politics, the workforce, and as equals in the home, and accepting of multicultural relationships (legally, if not completely socially at this point), all point towards a trend of acceptance, which I hope will continue.

There was a time when women could not vote in this country. When our founding fathers founded this country, the idea of a women voting was preposterous! Now the idea of ending women suffrage will be equally preposterous. I soon see a day where the same will be true of homosexual marriage, atheism, abortion, and even marriage between different religious, and cultures. My mom has often said that my girlfriend, Donna, seems like a nice girl, but she would prefer if I had fallen for Puerto Rican girl. These ideas of preference stem from culture. Donna's culture seems foreign, and while my mother doesn't fear Chinese culture (per se), she is apprehensive of ME changing MY culture (something she need not worry about, since it is too late to save her cultural heritage through me - I proclaim to be a member of the human race long before I proclaimed to be Puerto Rican).

Overall I give this book a 5 out of 10. For it's factual information, and it's acceptance of biology and evolution as a means to explain human behavior. Not many authors would do that.

Also this author openly claims to be religious, and agnostic. This brought upon some confusion for me towards the end of the book. She sees her connection to the natural world as a sort of a religious experience. I think this is a mirage. These connections occur in the neurons of the mind, and while it is wonderful to marvel in the beauty of evolution, and gemstones, and mountains, appreciating nature is and always will be very different from a religious experience. Religion implies that you need faith to believe in something. Faith is belief in the absence of evidence. You marvel at nature because of the overwhelming abundance of evidence of it's beauty. You marvel at how every living organism is the result of millions of years of evolutionary history, and you recognize their patterns as beautiful and valuable! Not simply because they are there but because they exist in our world and at this point in time. Is nature chicken soup for the soul? Yes. But I would run away as soon as I see someone praising God for the wonderful mountain, or tropical bird he has created. Evolution of the landscape, and of species is what created it all. Science not God.

Religious agnosticism is an oxymoron, and I will end with this:

Love is the greatest power of all. It tells me that even though I disagree with most of society on various issues, I can still appreciate all individuals as people of this earth, and as the result of millions of years of selection. We ourselves (as postulated by Diane Ackerman) are museums.

Atheists Mom has a Problem with Taboo

Have any of you ever had a threesome? Like many of you, I have not either. Recently while reading a natural history of love, I came upon the knowledge that fantasies of threesomes are actually normal amongst guys. I had a feeling such thoughts were normal, but I didn’t know for sure. The book actually claimed that there might be some biological reasons why guys dream of threesomes, specifically, straight guys dreaming of threesomes with two woman. The first reason is that sperm is cheap. Women are expected to be with one man, and try their best to hold on to him for the sake of raising kids (because eggs are costly). However, the strategy to increase fitness, for men, would be to have as many matings as possible. Two (or more) matings at once would definitely meet this goal (fantasy?). Another possible reason for these dreams is because they tend to be thought of as taboo, and things that are taboo, such as cheating on your wife, role playing, toy play, and public sex, tends to make such sexual experiences more exciting. This may be why the rate of infidelity to so high.

But why would I be talking about orgies with my mother? It seems like a weird topic to be talking about with someone outside of my age group (and definitely awkward to talk about with the person who gave birth to me). It all started when my sister was getting ready for a night out on the town with her girls.

My sister is 20 years old, and she is very outgoing. She is never single, however, she does break up with her boyfriend(s) often. She, like my mother, are both very emotional people, and they are easy to upset/fluster. They also have a sense of pride in themselves and their culture. Whenever they go somewhere they have to dress to impress, even if they aren’t going anywhere extravagant. In some cultures, once a woman settles down she is expected to purposely tone down her attractiveness to other men. Usually this is done by dressing conservatively or by not being as outgoing. This, unfortunately, is not the culture my sister (or my mother) have adopted. Instead they always dress to impress, to the discomfort of their significant others.

My sister, who I will refer to as Tiffany from now on, was getting dressed to go out with one of her girlfriends. She was getting dressed, doing her hair and figuring out what shoes to wear. She came into the kitchen and asked me if I wanted to have a few drinks and play pool with her and her friends. While I would normally jump at the idea of hanging out with people I have never met before, especially people in my age group, I declined. Currently my relationship with my girlfriend is going fine, and I wouldn’t want to do anything to mess it up (I love you Donna :) ).

After declining, Tiffany started talking about how good she looked, and how she was so hot. In reality, her ego is sometimes bigger than I think it should be. For someone who has not accomplished much, and for someone who has so much acne, it was surprising to hear her praise herself. I don’t know exactly what psychological, or biochemical process is giving her such high self esteem, but whatever it is, I want some. I wish I had as much confidence as her. I know there is a bulge in my belly (years of fast food), and I find myself less attractive or accomplished than many of my peers, so my self esteem is not as high as hers. I do not have low self esteem, just not self-praising sense of arrogance that seems to be common in my family (and possibly in my culture, as Puerto Ricans commonly show in the Puerto Rican parade). I think I am best described as humble (as my mom believes I am).


Tiffany then started looking at her butt, and talking about how big her butt was. This was supposed to be a compliment to herself, and I know many people reading this might not necessarily understand. Many cultures prefer their woman thin; anything that jiggles might be a problem. In Puerto Rican culture there is a certain amount of jiggling that is necessary to be considered attractive. Many people refer to this as junk in the trunk, what I call the J-Lo effect. A woman who is a healthy size with a small waist/big butt, is considered “bien quidada” (well kept/healthy) as opposed to fat. While complimenting herself I thought it appropriate to point out the obvious.

“My butt is bigger than yours” I said to Tiffany, half as a joke.

My mother looked at me quickly. My statement was true. My stomach was not the only place where there has been a noticeable weight gain since I started college. My butt has also grown. I am not particularly proud of this, but I think my girlfriend likes my butt, and my statement was factually true, so I decided to point it out. I am also much taller than my sister, so proportionally there might not be much of a difference, but in absolute size, I believe there is.

“Eww that’s gay” said my mom, not realizing how insulting she is, to both herself and Puerto Rican people. It really grinds my gears when people call comments that have nothing to do with homosexuality, gay. Many people used to do it in high school, and I always used to be called gay and fag, even though I am straight. It is insulting not to me, for being called called gay, but to gay people. I don’t mind being called gay now. I have known many gay people, especially after going to college in Vermont. They (mostly) have an excellent sense of style, and are some of the most intelligent, and helpful people I have ever met. Calling my statement gay also makes no sense. If I had said, “Well I saw some cute guy with an ass bigger than yours”, then I would understand how the statement is gay, but stating a fact about the size of my butt, in relation to my sisters was not gay. In fact, I might even go as far as to consider it science.

Homophobia is not a trait I share with my mom. I am open about my acceptance of gay people. I have no problems with them, and I think they make some of my most loyal friends. I can never invite my mother to meet them though, not because I am ashamed of them, but because I am ashamed of her! This battle with my mother, and my individuality has been long! If you would like to read more about it, feel free to click here, here, here, and here.

I decided not to fight with her about her statement, although I really wanted to. I might have been scarred if I were more sensitive, but even worse was the way someone may have felt if they were gay and in the room. I decided to let it slide to avoid conflict. If you have been actively reading my blog, then you know this isn’t the first time I let something like this pass.

But then I decided to answer my moms statement: “What is wrong with me having a big butt? Donna likes my big butt!”

And them mom said the unthinkable (and un-logical) “Oh, what is Donna gay?”

Well unless I was born a female, and I am unaware of it, no I do not believe that my girlfriend is gay. Either way, I am a male, and males having relationships with females are the norm in society, so I cannot see how my girlfriend, liking her guys with a nice round butt would be gay. If a guy can like a girl with a round butt, why can’t it work the other way around? Of course this logic doesn’t seem to work with my mother. She prefers simple ideas and she hates anything that does not go along with societal norms. 

I find this awkward. One of the greatest facts of life, one of the only reasons people have evolved is because of variation. People have different interests, cultures, races, sexual interests, gender identities, and even different ideas and definitions of family and love. They make the world colorful (sorry for anyone who is offended by this). I like the world to be colorful as opposed to my mother, who prefers things to be black and white. To her the LGBTQ community is to be shunned because she disagrees with it, and because she doesn’t find it normal. I see this type of memeplex (or memeone) all the time, and I can only hope the the dynamic zeitgeist continues it’s trend towards acceptance of pluralism.

This wasn’t always the case. In ancient greek life older men were expected to find younger men to have homosexual relationships with. One of the things they adored, along with philosophy, and strength, was beauty. Not having sex with a young man they found attractive was insulting! Quoting a Natural History of Love by Diane Ackerman:


“In Aristophanes’ The Birds, one older man says to another: “Well, this is a fine state of affairs, you damned desperado! You meet my son just as he comes out of the gymnasium, all fresh from the bath, and you don’t kiss him, you don’t say a word to him, you don’t hug him, you don’t feel his balls! And you’re supposed to be a friend of ours!”

Food for thought, Plato and Socrates also have had homosexual affairs.

But for some reason it has become taboo in traditional Puerto Rican culture, not only to be homosexual but to even talk about it. Like religious ideas, homosexuality cannot be spoken about. Why do I compare it to religious ideas? Well because when I started to question the existence of God my friends told me that it was blasphemy and I shouldn’t. Why? Because it was holy. But why can’t I question things that are holy? Because I just can’t. In other words, it is taboo. Well if religious ideas are too taboo to contemplate, then I consider myself quite a maverick, and quite an atheist.

I quickly thought of the prospect of Donna being gay. All of a sudden, I thought it would not be so bad. Perhaps, if Donna were gay (although I know the probability of her being gay is very close to zero), then just maybe I can fulfill every mans dream. The dream of 2 girls with one guy. I mean Donna is my girlfriend, and I know if she was gay, she might not want to break my heart. However, I would also understand her need to explore her feelings for woman (if she had them). Inviting another woman into the bed with us would be a perfect answer to the problem. I should have kept it as a thought though. I replied to my mother.

“If Donna were gay, that would be great for me!”

She was immediately agitated. She told me how girls having sex with girls is wrong, which I disagree with. If a girl wanted to have sex with another girl, then there is nothing wrong with that, provided of course that both woman were consenting to such activities. In my opinion, the population on this planet is too large for people to be against homosexuality anyway. They are part of the solution to our problem. She went on to explain how it wasn’t natural. I also disagree with this. A recent published review paper actually showed how MOST animals participated in homosexual relationships and behavior, including dolphins (click for link). I always told my friends that we had something to learn from the dolphins. 

She also said that having such a relationship would be something I would regret. I disagree. I think such a memory would be something I would cherish, something to check off the to do list before I die. Possibly something both Donna and I would enjoy, provided my performance was satisfactory for Donna. Of course this is less of a concern when there is someone else helping to please Donna.

However, like I have said before, in this household my mother thinks she is always right, and any arguing with her eventually leads to an argument I could never win, because she is an unreasonable woman. Mom plainly said to me, that if Donna were gay, what would make me think she and her girlfriend would want to have sex with me. Now I do not consider myself to have low self esteem but this is the equivalent of saying not only am I unfit physically to be attractive to two woman at a time, but it also takes away a bit of my manhood. The common taboo dream we all share but so rarely fulfill. 

Can I live in this household when it is so apparent that my mother not only wants to take away my style, and privacy, but also my freedom of thought? For the second time, I cannot help to think of the truth within the slogan- live free or die.

I looked at the various homeless shelters in NYC today. How surprised would they be if my mother brought me to the brink of moving out. A college educated 20-something, who has done research for Harvard, begging for food on the train. Collecting change to play his chances in the NY State lotto. 

Think it is too far fetched to happen? I am actually looking at the ratings of shelters right now. And as the commercial says, “Hey, you never know”.

Defeated by a Mother – Style is Freedom

She has really done it this time. My mother has taken it upon herself to throw out some of my shoes! Most of my shoes in fact! I found a bag on the floor in the living room with most of my shoes in it. Sneakers, boots, and other shoes as well.

Apparently she went into my room to “clean up” (although I think she was looking for Mary Jane again), found my shoes under the bed, and decided they needed to be thrown out. Why? Well to her she said they looked old. Most of those shoes were less than 2 years old and all of them were less than 4 years old, so I don't really know what she is talking about. But what do you think? Do you think they look old?

In my opinion the old excuse is just a way to impede upon my freedom. She is doing it purposely because she doesn't like my style.

Just last summer I purchased a pair of puffy “skater shoes”. I know she doesn't agree with the skater style but I purchased the shoes to walk around Petersham Massachusetts when I was doing research in Tom Swamp. These shoes were special because they were my first pair of skater shoes, and the most comfortable pair of shoes I ever brought. I don't know the exact name of the sneaker (I was never interested in names on clothing), but I think these shoes were still good.

Any normal person will tell you these shoes are perfectly fine. They have no holes in them, they are comfortable, and they still have a few more years of abuse to go through before they can be considered old. Not only that but they cost MONEY. My money. The money I earned last summer. If she was throwing out clothing she had purchased for me, it would be one thing, but she is throwing out clothing I purchased for myself.

And for what? Again I believe it was to take away my freedom. Style is Freedom. My style is not gangster like she wants it to be. So by taking away my style and buying me jeans which are (purposely) too big for me, she replaces my style with hers. She has also brought me sneakers that I would never buy myself in a million years. Older people reading my blog might be saying “Your so ungrateful you have a mother that cares; count your blessings; when I was your age we never got anything new unless our clothes were broken”. To this crowd I say, why fix it if it ain't broken? I like my style. In my lifetime I have met more diverse array of people than my mother has. Not only because I have been to college, but I notice it when I speak to her. I am more accepting of other peoples cultures and religions than my mother is. All my mother knows is NYC. She has been living here for so long that she forgot that there is a life out there. A world that not only has gangsters but business people, artists and musicians. And most of them wear clothes that aren't too big for them. Clothes that fit. And names on clothes aren't important to them. Whatever is affordable and comfortable would work!

NYC is like a prison, and she is trying to institutionalize me. Large jeans, baggy shirts. Gangsta clothing. Why? Well I can blame her religion for one thing. “Honor your mother and your father”. I will honor her when she decides that I have a right to wear clothes I feel comfortable in. Sometimes I wish I would get shot. Especially in my gangster clothes. Then I wouldn't have to wear them, and I wouldn't have to deal with her trying to stress me.

I mean, seriously, what is wrong with these sneakers?

Except for the glare from the lens of my camera the only logical answer is absolutely nothing. She has even taken it upon herself to go one step (excuse the pun) further.

She has taken my jeans that were ripped and CUT THEM INTO SHORTS. Most of the jeans I had are now shorts. Impromptu shorts. Not even real shorts one would buy, but shorts with ragged edges where the cuts are made, which are uncomfortable and itchy, and in some cases above the knee (when I sit down). I hate it here. Jeans with rips in them were my style. On a normal day I would go out with those jeans. I would enjoy the breeze they brought to my leg, and yes I even enjoyed MAKING THE RIPS MYSELF! She has taken away not only my style, but my art.

Has anyone ever seen Cloverfield? In the beginning of the movie the guy has a camera, and he doesn't know how to use it well. He is shopping with his girlfriend, and while walking through the streets of NY, he points his camera down. Guess what, HE HAS RIPS ON HIS JEANS!!! He is a young man (somewhere between 25 and 33), and he gets to choose his own style. To anyone who gets to pick their clothing, and wear it comfortably without their mother cutting their pants, throwing away their shoes, or looking for drugs in your dresser, I ENVY YOU.

Style is freedom. And I choose to live free or die. How am I going to go into a job interview with baggy jeans, brand new (shiny) sneakers, and a shirt with some dumb design, and expect to be taken seriously! A plain shirt, fitted pants, and shoes that show how hard I work, and my long history of walking around the streets of Manhattan are much better attire to tell my story.

Her religion teaches her to be proud. Separate things that are clean from those that are dirty. Light from dark. So even though we are so poor, that her limited ability to pay rent has kept her in the projects for 2 months, I still have to look like a gangster who has 100 dollar sneakers, and jeans meant for Santa. This is her proud mentality. She has 3 credit cards, and while they are not all maxed, I ask her, why doesn't she cut one? Why does she not just pay the most expensive one, and get rid of it to cut down her expenses?

She likes to be poor, and not have money. This is my only conclusion. Her taking away my style, my freedom is more than a statement against me, it is a statement against my future. She was looking to see if I had drugs in my room, but now I understand why. It was not because she wants me to be clean, it is because she wants me to sell the drugs to make money.

When I get a job I am moving out. Somewhere far far away, and I will be happy in my humble home, if I never see her “too proud to let your son be himself” face again.
AMEN.

Ghetto Windowsill Gardener Finds Petunia Seeds

A few weeks ago I showed you pictures of my girlfriends petunias, and my spider plants. As you may have noticed, the petunias were in bloom, and when a plant is in bloom, it usually means that the plant will produce seeds (if it is a self seeding plant). I wasn't sure if petunias fell into this category, until I found proof.

Now, just to remind you of how the petunias look like (pink) here is a picture:

And as you can tell, I am growing the plant on the windowsill, and it seems to be doing well (although I break branches by mistake every once in a while). I water the petunia every other day (as needed), although I forgot to water it for a few days. The plant reacts quickly to drought. I have noticed its leaves drooping, and leaves closer to the base of the plant (older leaves) turning wrinkly and drying out.

I have also been informed by Ernie DeMarie in my previous post, that these plants are prone to being attacked by spider mites! Ever since that information I have been vigilantly looking at the plant closely, to ensure no herbivores graze upon my girlfriends precious petunias.

These petunias are also important because of where we got them. They were obtained during an event at UVM, during our last year at the University. The ALANA student center put on an event and there was a petunia at each table. The people who put on the event told the people who were at the event that if we wanted the plants, we could take them home. Donna (my girlfriend) did. So now I have to take care of it.

While closely examining the plant one day I noticed a small dried seed pod.

I am actually surprised that I did not find this seed pod earlier, being that I was looking so hard, but I did find it, and I decided (after realizing there were seeds in it) to put it in a zip lock bag.

Now before people start shouting like mad in the comments section and start sending me emails about how paper bags were best for storing seeds, I must say, I KNOW. I know paper bags help keep the moisture out, and so if I use them I could have greater seed viability. I know that seeds in plastic bags are more prone to fungal attack. And lastly, I know that small paper bags are better because they are easier to store and write on, than big zip lock bags. The reason I used a ziplock bag is because I have no money for paper bags, and because this is Jonathan's Ghetto Windowsill gardening, I have to improvise whenever possible.

So I took a sharpie to a ziplock bag and threw it in my small fridge. Since that day, looking for petunia seeds on the windowsill has been a common occurrence. I have been storing all the seeds in one bag, however if you have the money I recommend putting the seeds in small paper bags, which are easier to label and store, and will protect your seeds better. I have been getting so many seeds that I actually made a video about it:

So there you have it. Nail clipping off the petunia seed pods, and opening them up to obtain the seeds was fun, now if only I had some way to grow them (and possibly) sell them. I am willing to let small plantlets go for cheap, and if you want a bare root spider plant, I am willing to sell them (I have about 20). Please contact me at jmejia1187@gmail.com

Now, I know I promised you all an update on my big spider plant, but that would just have to wait a bit more. You would never come back to read my blog if I gave you everything you wanted now. So stay tuned, more plant updates coming soon!

An Atheists Dream

So I was lying in bed last night and I had a strange dream which involved UVM, Good Asian Drivers, Nick Negrete (whom I met in college), Julie Kwok (also from college), and Julie Le (someone who I haven't seen from my days in middle school, but who is my friend on facebook).

The dream started off, as such weird dreams often do, with me lying down in my bed. I had taken a nap earlier in the evening because I had a headache, but with the help of The Body Shops' scented oils, I had relaxed enough to fall asleep. When I woke up, it seemed to be very late, but in the distance I could hear the music of Good Asian Drivers, whose CD is coming out soon (and they will soon be performing in NY for the album release part). If I had money, I would buy the CD, available here (click the link).

But back to my dream. I heard the slam poetry of Kit Yan, and I decided I needed to get dressed and go to the show, which apparently was taking place upstairs. I got out of bed, and put some boxers and pants on. Yes, it is true, I sleep naked, but I am usually clothed in my dreams. It seemed real because when I woke up in my dream, I was naked! Anyway, I quickly put on a pair of jeans, and a plain T-shirt. My room was dark, but since I was heading out I didn't bother to put on any of the lights.

I left my room, which did not resemble my room in reality at all. For one thing, the room was big, and I was sleeping on a queen sized mattress (extravagant, I know). When I left I noticed a staircase leading upstairs, and Julie Kwok was there on the stairs heading up. She asked me if I intended on seeing the show. I told her I did, but I had to use the restroom. She disappeared behind the door on the top of the staircase.

I made my way to the restroom, which seemed like the restroom in a dormitory. What I mean to say is, it wasn't MY restroom. It belonged to everyone, and as such, I had to wait, but not long. When I arrived at the door of the restroom, I saw Julie Le, who told me to go with her to the show. I said I would, but that I needed to really pee. She said I needed to go then, since the show already started and she didn't want to miss anything.

Suddenly, Nicholas Negrete came up behind me, and told Julie Le that if I needed to use the restroom, I should just go use it. He then led me to the restroom door, and I entered it.

I woke up from my dream soon after, to the morning light, and my 7 a.m. alarm on my sidekick. It was weird. Why would Nick know Julie (from H.S.)? Why would all of us be in the same place now that I graduated from college? Nick is in California now (I believe), and both Julie's are in NY (I think, but I can be wrong). Good Asian Drivers are touring around the country, and they will come to NY on the 25th of this month. But nothing in this dream makes sense (except for me needing to use the bathroom).

I normally do not have dreams, but when I do, I try to analyze them. Could it be that my biological needs in real life (shelter, safety, and a sound job to obtain my place in a social society), are holding me back from enjoying the concert of life? Could it be that I should call my friends and make plans to hang out (since both Julie's asked me to go to the show)? Could it be that Asian woman (both Julies again) are calling out to me in real life (Donna), but my Latino heritage (Nick is latino) is somehow holding me back from what I really want?

Why did I have the dream in the first place? I think it has something to do with the fragrance oils. I looked up incense on Google and apparently some types of incense have psychotropic effects I didn't know about. Go figure.

If you have any interpretations or insight, do not hesitate to leave a comment below.