Feminist

The bf has this young male co-worker that is having issues with the ladies. Well, with one lady because he doesn’t get that she is with someone and completely happy with that someone. He hangs on to the hope that she will someday leave her partner for him. Where he gets this hope is beyond anyone because she shows no sign of being interested.

So, naturally (that is meant with a tone of sarcasm), they decided I should compile a t-chart (because I am a teacher and that’s the standard teacher format) with do’s and don’t when it comes to the laydeeez for this kid.

When the bf told me about this, I’d had a long day of meetings* and was idling on the couch trying to clear my brain. Then, I made sense of what he was asking and I said, “Do your work friends not know about me? Do you even talk about me?”

Deer in the headlights looking bf says, “What do you mean?”

“Do they not know that I’m not your typical woman?”

“That’s why I thought it would be funny. You could give him a feminist take on it.”

“Huh,” I said as I returned to my idling.

It made me wonder later. Are feminist really that different? Am I a true feminist? Because although I agree with a lot of feminist theory, I don’t feel that I know that much about feminism to comfortably use the term and stand my own in an anit-feminist debate and such.

Then I started thinking about the things I would write on this t-chart, and I don’t know that it would be any different than most women. If it is different, it’s because I have my hang ups since I have been fat almost all of my life and that tends to shape how you deal with people of whatever sex you are attracted to.

I never did get around to that t-chart. I don’t know that I will either. I’m much more concerned with spending my free time sleeping and doing things that I enjoy like research, watching Youtube videos, and maybe hammering out a story or another chapter in that damn novel that has been plaguing me.

*True story, we had a meeting about having meetings. That was a doozy. Seriously, like, really, a meeting about having a meeting? All you can do is laugh.

We Must Be the Change We Wish to See in the World...

I saw that quote a couple weeks ago on a cup at the Barnes and Noble café. I’m not much of a quote person. I get too curious about what else it says and if it was taken out of context or what.

But that Gandhi quote really resonated with me.

All around, people keep squawking about change and things are actually changing. You could hear the earth rumbling last year and then it picked up speed at the end of ‘08. At times it seems like they’re coming so hard and fast, they might crush a few of us against the wall.

It’s a little daunting to think of what is to come. Normally, I’m the kind of person that enjoys change, but I don’t know what it is that has me freaking out. Perhaps it’s the uncertainty of it all. The fear of falling face first on the ground. I know all of these things are normal, but I hate feeling them. I want that hopeless optimism to kick in already, and at the same time, I know it probably won’t until I make peace with all of this change.

And really, what I put in is what I will get out of this whole experience enter the Gandhi quote. Overall, I think 2009 will bring more of the good stuff and less of the crap that 2008 spewed out at the end. If anything, The Bush will be out of office; so it really can’t be that bad.

When my butt starts scraping the dirt, the Gandhi quote will be my mantra. 

Dolores and Bernice

Work has pretty much been sucking up any of my free time, which is why I haven’t been around. I’m really behind on my freelance project so I’ll be dedicating my weekend to it. I just sent in my first batch of stuff and I’m a little nervous and excited.

Things are pretty much back to normal around these parts. At times there is a harsh reality check, like when I briefed on a new student I received earlier this week. Her family lost everything during the storm. I was really happy to see the kids taking to her right away.

There are some good and bad things that have happened, but it’s late and I’m tired. I will tell you though, I made the big switch from PC to Mac. It’s the coolest, best thing I’ve done in a while. Dolores, my Mac, makes me so happy. I love having her. Oh, and today, my brain was named Bernice. Peace out.

Don’t forget to vote!!!

Observing

It’s 6ish and I'm at the local Barnes & Noble Café.

It’s the first time I’ve been here all summer. Mostly because I’ve been too lazy to leave the house or because my late nights force me to do the house cleaning when I’d normally be here. Today, I bribed myself with a Chai Latte if I came here to work on my syllabi.

It’s pretty empty. People are probably at home having dinner, fresh from work, which probably felt like a Monday if they were forced to take the day off yesterday.

My usual seat next to the trash can was taken by a kid who had his headphones on and the volume turned up loud enough for me to hear. I sat two tables down. I have a clear view of the potential US Travel shopper as well as the Bargain Books section.

Before I had to turn up my iPod because of the loud father and daughter duo, I overheard the woman one table in front of me say into her phone, “Estoy leyendo. Ahorita te caigo.”

She’s about 200-250 pages into a Sherrilyn Kenyon book. She’s got a young girl with her and they’ve both been in a reading trance for a while. I smile at them behind my Grande Chai because they don’t look like “readers.” Not that I have an idea of what “readers” look like, but I know some people do.

An old man with a cane came a while later with a loaded B&N bag. He sat across from my favorite seat and looked through his bag. After the kid left, he took half his stuff and set it down on my favorite spot. Then he went and got the rest of it. He started looking through his mail and has been diligently reading and tearing up his stack.

For a while, I was busily highlighting through the last couple chapters of Kelly Gallagher’s Deeper Reading in hopes of getting down the elusive “best way for me to teach.” But when I stopped for a breath and look around, I had to take a break and tell you about my surroundings.

With my ear buds plugged in, I feel like I’m watching a movie. Here I am, having my own Regina Spektor concert watching a movie reel of people’s secret moments with books, mail, friends, a cup of coffee, or a cupcake. Perhaps it’s sick that I sit here and glance with curiosity at the couple in the Relationship section hug and laugh as they look through books or the two ladies who look like they just got off work and met for some “girl time” before going home to their families, but these are just the things that make me enjoy life so much.

For all I know, someone is doing just the same thing to me. Wondering what it is I’m typing or listening to and notice how my eyes begin to wander as I look perfect word…

Ode to the Cana

Growing up, my mom was always concerned about her canas. It wasn’t uncommon for my mom to don a large black trash bag around her shoulders to protect her clothes from the jet black, goopy concoction massed in her hair.

The message was clear canas=the enemy.

In my early twenties, when I came across my first enemy, I examined it carefully in my 10X mirror. Was it simply a light colored hair or was it a legit cana?

When I determined that it, in fact, was a cana, I plucked it out. A few weeks later, it came back…with a friend. This time, I doused them in Cherry Jubilee goop.

After a rinse and some air dry time, it was made known that Thing One and Thing Two were resistant to such a thing. Unlike the rest of my hair, they’d only taken a smidgen of the hue. My canas were demure ladies on a date.

Gabi was the first to begin questioning the canas=the enemy theory when she stopped dying her hair. Suddenly, I became ultra aware of them.

I noticed how the less you mess with them, the cooler they look. Men with the salt and pepper look pretty nice. But my most remarkable observation was that many of these academic types I admired were cursed with them. Because they were associated with one of my pedestal dwelling ideas, my point of view shifted and my analogy did as well: canas=intelligence.

Now every new sapling is celebrated in my 10X mirror. I run my fingers across my hair in search of them and stare in wonder as the reflection of light glistens in the reflection of the mirror like a shooting star.

Breakthrough Award

The Breakthrough

In my last post, I talked about the issue of sleep. I’ve had a breakthrough here recently. Yesterday, I actually woke up before my usual 2 PM and I didn’t even have anything to do. Although I did manage to clean up a little, hang up “art,” and run a few errands. This morning I was awake by 8 AM thanks to my alarm and having gone to been before midnight.

The coolest thing about waking up early was being able to watch Sunday Morning, Meet the Press, and This Week. I also had some early morning coffee. There are still several hours left in the day and I feel ahead of the game.

The rest of the day holds more errands and some quality time with the printed and soon to be printed word.

The Award



Not Quite Grown Up, who is starting her first year as a full fledged teacher (and a great one she will be), merited me with an award. An award! I think it’s awesome when people list me on their links.

The coolest thing about this award is the rules:

1. Put the logo on your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who awarded it to you.
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.
4. Add links to these blogs on your blog.
5. Leave a message for your nominee on their blog.

I like the idea of paying it forward. Without further adieu, here are my nominees:

Annette--because whenever the homesickness sets in, I can always visit her site to calm the senses.

Bad Texas—a fellow proud Texan, UH Alumni, and just plain cool.

CAD—she takes awesome pics and is living out her dream.

Cracked Chancla—another woman living out her dream. I hope I get to visit el Tianguis soon.

Cindylu—she inspired me to revamp my blog and raised my awareness to so many issues. Plus, she’s almost a Doctora in an issue I care about deeply.

ElenaMary—inspiring in so many ways. If only we could all be half the activist she is.

El Chavo—his useless kitchen tools crack me up, the HR posts make me drool (even the bad ones because I always imagine my mom’s delicious HR’s), and his pictorial tours of are cool.

Gwen—who provides tales of shopping, Metro rides, and the whirlwind that is publishing.

Because I am a rule follower, I must stop at seven. However, anyone over on my links list is a nominee.

Sleepless Wedding Dress Video

El Insomnio

This summer, more than ever, I’ve been having sleep issues. At the beginning of the summer, I was used to my school schedule. I’d fall asleep around 11 or 12 and wake up around 7 AM.

But the week before the trip to El Paso everything got all screwy. I was staying up late almost every night preparing for my presentation.

Then, when I returned from El Paso, things just got worse. I’d stay up later and later until I wouldn’t fall asleep until the sun was coming up.

Now that I’ve had training to attend, I usually sleep two to four hours. It’s always the same. I go to my bedroom at around 11 PM, watch TV or read, and before I know it, it’s 2 AM. I force myself to go to sleep. Then when I least expect it, I wake up wondering what time it is. I realize its 2 or 4 hours later and can’t go back to sleep.

Because I hate lying there idly, I get out of bed and annoy the cats by turning on the lights and making coffee. Probably not the best thing to do, but it’s one of my favorite things about waking up early, having the time to make coffee and watch the morning news.

The Wedding Dress

Long ago, I planned on getting married at some point. Nothing has been done about it really. For me, both of us being on the lease is enough.

Sure, I used to plan Barbie weddings, but they were not ever my own. Sunday nights, when I watch Bridezillas, I revel in the joy of not being them especially that lunatic in the video below.

My mom, however, has a different view.

When I spoke to her the other day, she was so excited about a wedding dress she saw at the Goodwill store. When her friend asked her why she was so interested in it, she said, “Para la Georgina, la mas chiquita. Ella se quiere casar.”

I was touched by the tone in her voice; it was like a joy with a hint of joy smothered with love. I’ve been thinking about it a lot trying to capture the tone in words. I might hit replay on that conversation* hoping to hear it again.

*I was trying to link the story, but I realized it’s from one of my mom stories that I’m currently collecting. Anyway, my mom often tells you the same stories if you call her frequently. She calls it darle vuelta al cassette.

La Naca

Growing up, I always thought the Cheros (cowboys) at my high school were such chuntaros. My friends and I used to laugh at their chingamelavista lime green boots, painted on Wranglers, and motley-colored cowboy shirts. When they cruised through campus in their supped up pick up trucks blaring Ramon Ayala y Los Tigres del Norte, I would turn up whatever grunge band I had playing on my Walkman.

Since I’ve left home, I’ve become quite a fan of “chero music.” As I told my mom a while back, “me estoy haciendo bien naca.”

I am such a naca now, that I almost jumped out of my seat when I was able to download the newest Intocable cd 2C before midnight.

My Version of Counting Sheep

It is 1:34 AM and I can’t get my happy self to bed. I had fallen asleep earlier, but the sound of a ringing phone woke me and I haven’t been able to go back to bed. I dabbled with some of the various notions flailing around in my brain. Still. I need to go to sleep already.

Fortunately, tomorrow will be a day of meetings and mingling. But I’ll pay for it because I’ll be slow when it comes to doing menial tasks like filing or re-organizing my great piles of junk. I have hope that with the good drink (coffee) and some catchy tunes, I’ll be able to whistle away the afternoon and items on my to-do list.

It’s rather sad that my days of nothingness have come to an end. I’m really going to miss them. I attempted to have an adventure every day, but none of my adventures were too thrilling. The coolest thing was Saturday, when I went to Niko Niko's and the owner took my order. He greeted me with a smile. When I said I would like a falafel sandwich, his facial expression portrayed pride in my choice. He also seemed very happy to be at work. That’s always nice.

This evening I was drawn out of my pj’s when Dealy-O called me up and said, “I miss you. Come meet us.”

That’s one of the nicest things someone can say in my book, so I could not object. I’m such a narcissistic bastard sometimes. We met for coffee/tea/hot chocolate. After my chai latte was prepared, the barrista sang out my order. He had a very nice voice, so nice that I heartily said, “Wow, thank you.”

Insomnia

I really should be asleep, but who can sleep when there’s all of this good music?

It all started on I-tunes when I was looking for Soñador. Then, I mozied on over to YouTube to find some song called “Shoes” that they were playing on the radio to promote some contest. I finally signed up for my own account and decided to add more videos to my favorites.

I typed in “Intocable” and got nothing at first. I typed it in again and I got some videos which lead me to more videos and more videos, and you get the picture. Now I’m uploading some of my favorite cd’s onto the computer as I listen to others I’ve already loaded.

Tomorrow, I will be paying for this. As I trudge around my classroom, in a half daze, wishing my students would just hurry up and finish the darn test, I will swear not to get on YouTube during the week.

Earlier, I typed up a log of my day. (We started TAKS today.) I was going to post it, but it’s lame, so I’ll spare ya’ll. One more song and I’m off to bed.

Foot in Mouth

Yesterday, we had a parent thing. They called it something like "TAKS Training Camp." It was meant to inform parents about how we prepare their kids for TAKS and what they can do to help us prepare their students.

I don't know if I've mentioned Mr. C before. He's our new 6th grade Assistant Principal. He's really cool. He's Mexican American, and he's a little different than the people we've had before, but he's not revolutionary.

When we first met with him, he, of course, did the obligatory speech to introduce himself and yadda yadda. I was taken back when he said our school's name. Most people never say it the way he does because the way he says it is with the Latino accent. He also referred to his daughter as "mi'jita." With that, I felt really comfortable around him and the feeling has only grown since.

So when he gave me the basket with door prizes and tickets, I replied, "Why me? What did I do?"

"I'd give the to Orozco, but he'd steal them. Es una rata." (He was kidding of course. We give Orozco a hard time.)

I was glad to have something to do. I felt useful standing by the door greeting parents and handing out tickets. Being in charge of this also meant I got to draw for prizes. Halfway through the presentation, Mr. C came up and told me to hold off on the door prizes for a bit because we didn't have enough to do one after every presentation. Since he whispered this to me, the coach didn't know we weren't doing a drawing before his presentation.

As coach walked up to the promethean board, he said, "Is there a door prize?"

The only words that came out of my mouth were, "Nope, you are the door prize."

As you can imagine in a room full of women, there was a lot of laughter and a lot of red on my part. Fortunately, he blew it off and continued. My colleagues who were standing around me couldn't stop laughing, and I'm sure I resembled a ripe tomato.

You'd think that'd be enough foot in mouth syndrome, but nope. Not for me, I'd have to shine the light on my a little more.

When our enlightening training was drawing to and end, I sauntered up to the front of the room with what I thought was the final prize, a $25 Wal Mart gift card. I allowed Mr. C to draw the last number, but he was confused. He'd put a card in his pocket thinking it was the one I had.

As I said before, foot in the mouth once a night is not good enough for me. When Mr. C said he had another one, I said, "Well how many did you hide? You got one under your hat?"

Everyone in the library cracked up.

All day today, the A-team (the administration) teased me about my foleys. I don't really mind it. I could have been written up.