So I'm Thinkin' About Forgiveness

Even though Jorge was the baby boy of the family, I always had a sense that there was something off between Dad and Jorge.

I remember when I was about four or five the police was called at two in the morning because in a drunken rage, Dad had taken the mattress Jorge was sleeping on and had flipped it with Jorge still on it.

The Safety Dance

The summer my mom botched her pacemaker battery replacement surgery I stayed in El Paso for six weeks. That's the longest I have ever stayed there since moving away for college in 2002. 

Messing with Mota #1

If you know me, then you know that I love to laugh. If I'm not finding a reason to laugh, then there is something truly wrong with me. The love of laughing, as you might guess, is a result of Jorge's influence on me. 

Three Tales

I've spent the last 24 hours grading essays. Each time I read a particulary bad one, I have been inspired to write a better version with my own experiences. I don't know if I will use them in class. But I thought I would share here, for you Jennifer.

Los Mojaditos: A Portrait

I love this photograph because it is probably the only one with all of my siblings. On the left in the white undershirt and jeans is my brother Filly. Next to him in the white jeans is Silvia, the oldest of our sisters. Next to her is Richy, the oldest of our brothers. On the bottom from left to right are Jorge, me, and Gabi.

I can’t remember if this photograph was taken at our house on Rita street or the previous house. All I know is that we’d been in the country a couple of years and we were all still illegal.

Thinking back at how things were, I wonder how we did it. How did my mom do it to feed all of us, clothe us, and keep a roof over our head. I didn’t know how hard it was for my oldest sister who had been forced to move when she had already started her own life in Juarez. I didn’t know how bad school was for Gabi and Jorge.

There are a few memories in there of fights between my parents and the fear of perhaps my mom not coming home one day because she’s been deported. However, for the most part, I was a really happy kid. I had some books, a record player, a Tatiana LP recording of Osito Panda, a Cri-Cri LP, and playing outside with our neighbors or my siblings was the best thing ever, especially if we took a trip to the park. 

Petite Rocollections of Jorge

We’re in the toy section at Winn’s next to the Diary Queen on Alameda Ave. Jorge is 13 and I’d just turned 5.

“¿Cúal quieres?”

I look at my options. Rainbow Bright is cool, but Lurky is just so cool. He’s brown and furry and would probably make an awesome pillow. After some thought, I decide on Lurky.

I watch him shell out the $17 for it and feel somewhat embarrassed that he would spend so much money on me, but at the same time so special.

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.

Memories

Today, amidst the cleaning and napping and errand running I visited two memories.

The first happened when I was sitting on the floor at the foot of my bed staring at the various tubes of lotions that ended up in my bedroom. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed because there still seemed to be so much to do and I couldn’t figure out how I was going to carry that many products back into the bathroom and then I’d have to rearrange the contents of the cabinet to make them fit, but before that I would need to change the litter because surely I wouldn’t be able to stand the smell and I might as well sweep and mop the floor before I clean the litter. So I sat there and took a trip to the district championship soccer game last spring. Who knows what got me thinking about it. But I started thinking how telling it was that the student who invited made sure to come up into the stands to say hello and thank me for coming. I also got to wondering if he’d invited any other teachers. The old coach who took a position mid-semester was there, as was the head coach, and the program coordinator that funds soccer (soccer is considered a club and not a sport at our campus).

It made me feel really good to go and see some of my current and former students kick some SoHo butt. I also enjoyed listening to the parents cheer on their kids. Everyone was supporting “los rojos.” Some parents brought gallons of juice and coolers for the little kids. One of my former students was out there trying his best while his mom gave birth to his baby sister down the street. His dad and little brothers were there supporting him. Those are the things that I truly miss. Last year I had so many duties that although they help kids, don’t allow me to be in the midst of all the action interacting with the kids. I hope I can change that this year.

The other memory trip came as I was driving to run an errand. Again, who knows what triggered it, but I got to thinking about my graduation party. Thinking back, I feel guilty that I wasn’t around to help much. My sister, her bff, and my mom did all of the work from cooking to setting up tables and decorating. It was really cool. There was mole, frijoles refritos, Caro’s famous empanadas, garbanzo and onion salad (one of my favorites), and perhaps some kind of wine punch. There was a cake made by my old supervisor at APP. I’m sure there were other things, but that’s all I remember these days. It was cool because despite it being crazy times, lots of people came and we all just had a good time. When I was thinking about this earlier, I was captivated by the idea that these three women had done this for me, like my ada madrinas. I guess in a way they all kind of are. It’s the kind of thing that happens in movies and sometimes we say, “wouldn’t it be cool if I had….” Sometimes completely missing that we actually already have that.

Bendita tu luz

As she looked for another puzzle piece that fit, the light was in that dangerous zone of melancholy that Sunday night. “I didn’t tell you that the agency we were with closed.”

I felt my stomach drop with overwhelming sadness and impotence. “That’s terrible,” was all I could say. What else does one say at the sound of devastating news? I’m sorry? 

Wednesday afternoon, I was sitting at my desk at school hammering out another word parts quiz for the kids when my phone rang. I can’t recall the exact greeting, but what I do remember is her voice on the other end saying, “I have a baby.”

“What?”

“I have a baby. The agency called me today. They have a baby girl for me.”

I remember thinking is this really for real? There were tears and congratulations and more tears. 

It’s not every day that people’s dreams come true. 

Dramatic Irony

There is a person in my family that is really, really sick. She’s been sick for a while and most of us know, but there is one person that hasn’t been told, my mom. I know it’s wrong to hide such a big thing from her, but this person has decided that they would rather she not know since my mom’s health is pretty fragile as well.

So many misunderstandings have occurred because of this secret--things that if it were out in the open wouldn’t be much of a big deal. But there is nothing I can do. It is up to that person to come clean.

In the meantime, I continue talking with my mom and feeling like I’m watching a Shakespeare play with the dramatic irony unfolding right before me.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

A couple months ago when I mentioned my niece being shipped out to war, it didn’t happen because she rolled her ankle and had to have surgery and a brace, etc.

Today she’s finally on her way. I say finally because that’s what she makes it sound like. She told me the other day that she wanted to leave already so that she could get back to see her little brothers.

Strange how she had to leave Easter weekend out of all the weekends. We’ve talked a bit on Yahoo when she wakes up and signs in on her phone. I need to find a St. George candle.

There are so many things I want to tell her, but I’m also trying to remain positive about the whole situation. I just hope she knows, knows how much I love her and hope she's safe and think about her.

Flight 2701 to Houston Hobby 3:05 PM

I’m on my way back to Houston after a short holiday visit to El Paso. I have the most beautiful view of the Franklins from my gate. The clouds are rolling over the rumpled earth beneath them. Rolling toward the east, perhaps to meet me in the sadness that settles in every time I have to leave.

It was a great visit. I got to see all of the people that I love and miss. This visit, more than any other, cemented the idea that I have outgrown this place. I love it so much, and I wish that some day, I could come back to live here, but it’s not where I can make my home. The way that people treat one another would probably drive me crazy. I hate how some people think that they are above others.

I wish so much for my mom and brother to move to the Houston area. Things wouldn’t be peachy at first, but it would be so nice to have family around. Sometimes it is so lonely there. So many times there are things that happen that I wish I could have them around to vent or to share joy with. Perhaps someday.

In the meantime, all we have are cloudy skies and teary eyes. 

Live and Direct from El Chuco

Sitting at Barnes and Noble in El Paso having some coffee. Amazingly, the headache that I'd been nursing all day has gone away. Perhaps I am addicted to the caffeine now. What a sad state my life has become.

My rental car is complete awesomeness. It's a Toyota Matrix that uses up hardly any gas and can play my iPod. 

I am enjoying time with the family. Haven't had many thoughts of work which should make many peeps happy although they requested NO thoughts of work. I suppose it's like my caffeine addiction, gotta take it slow. 

When we leave here, I think we're going to go see the Christmas lights in the neighborhood over by Eastwood High. Haven't been there in a while. I hope the decline of the economy hasn't sucked out the Christmas spirit. 

Hi Ate Us

My updates are going to be scarce around here. I have a ton of start of year stuff to prepare. The cool thing is that if I do a good job now, next year, I won’t feel like I’m running on a 15 mph treadmill at my 3 mph rate.

I’m enjoying my side gig. It’s been very enlightening. I don’t know how much I can share, but I will tell you that it’s got to do with education.

I’m really enjoying my students this year. More than half are the kids I had at the start of last year. Today, we had another one of those “buzz” moments. I took them to the library for the first time, and when we came back, they had ten minutes of silent reading time. Even my rowdiest class was quiet and reading the entire time. In one class, I had some whiners, saying “I HATE to READ! I’m not going to read!” at the library. Once the librarian or I got a good book in their hands, they were upset when I made them stop. I felt bad, but I really needed to show them a video to prepare them for one on tomorrow’s assignments.

Aside from work, not much else has gone on. I watched a couple of movies last weekend. Martian Child was pretty cool. I really enjoyed it. I also saw Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead that was sort of twisted and sad. Lastly, I saw a good chunk of Beautiful it had that cute little girl from Paulie and the Pepsi commercials. It was a good chick flick.

My mama flies in tomorrow. I’m so giddy. She’s finally going to meet the bf’s parents. It should be fun.

Hope I can update sooner than later!

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.

Inevitable

Since my last entry, a few things have occurred. For example, I turned one year older. My new profile picture was taken during my birthday celebration. It was a fun evening with delicious food.

I also started a three week period of nothingness. There are no staff developments. The only work I have is to keep the house clean and whatever else I decide to do.

I also made the epic journey home and back. The goal of the visit was to help my mom settle into her new apartment. Mid-March, my mom had a stroke. It was a really hard blow. It made me look at the people around me with two living, healthy parents and wonder why I mine had to be sick. It made me very angry.

Fortunately, my mom was able to overcome the effects of her stroke. Although at times she forgets or says the wrong word, she’s doing well. Her CT scan found that her brain had not bled. And now that she’s on her own again, her zest for life is back.

Still, on the drive home, I couldn’t help but think about the inevitable. One day, I will be driving back toward Houston and there won’t be a mom waiting to hear if I’ve made it to Ft. Stockton or San Antonio yet. I know that the empty feeling I had when I found out about her stroke will be ten times worse. I will probably go around saying “Aye Amá,” like my own mom did when hers passed away. Eventually, I will get used to it, but what seems so difficult now, is that I don’t know how I will.

For now, I know that I need to enjoy her as much as I can and do as much I can to make her as happy as possible.

Shifting Focus, Old Friends, La Doctora

Shifting Focus

This Saturday is the last Saturday I have to work. I am so excited! It’s been fun though. Usually, before the TAKS test, we have what we call “extended day.” This is when kids stay later or come in on Saturdays to work on skills they need to pass TAKS. Usually, it’s by invite for the kids who struggle in class. Teachers try to do fun lessons; there are snacks, prizes, and some gym time. This year however, we had the crazy idea to do this for the kids taking the EOC (End of Course Exam given to Pre AP students a week after TAKS). We’ve had a really good time reading one of Robert Karimi’s poems. Saturday, they will create a blog with a literary analysis on Karimi’s poem and an MLK Speech. Should be cool. I’ll also be glad to have my Saturday mornings back next week.

I’ve shifted my focus back to students and in turn, it’s made me so much happier. I fake the good mood when I’m tired or lazy, and it rubs off on the kids, they behave, and make me want to be there. Kids are asking me if I will move up to 8th grade so they can have me one more year. There is a position open, and it would be interesting (what effects would this have on their learning?) and cool (to be with one group of kids for three years, very Freedom Writer-ish). However, I think for my sanity I will need to remain in 7th grade, for now.

Today, a student I don’t know (although this happens a lot, kids say hi, come into my room for tutoring, etc. and I don’t even know who they are) came to ask me for some advice about voicing her opinion. She was upset that students are being asked to remove Peta2 stickers from their binders. She had written a letter. It needs some work, but she makes some very good points. I gave her some suggestions and told her to go for it. I think it’s really cool and the peeps I’ve shared the story with think its cool, too.

Old Friends

If any of you have read any of the stories I wrote for Windows, you will know about Gabriel.

Gabriel was my best friend growing up. A few years after high school, we lost touch. About two weeks ago, when I checked my phone after school, I had three missed calls and a voice mail from my mom.

In the voice mail, my mom starts off stating some numbers, she says them again and then says, “Ese es el numero del Gabriel.” Too bad I’m old and it was the end of the day because I almost started jumping up in down, actually, not too bad because I could have further ruined the foundation of our old building. ;)

Since then, we’ve talked, e-mailed, and texted. It’s been the coolest thing in the world. I can’t even explain how happy it has made me to be in touch with him again.

La Doctora

I got a text earlier today from my sis letting me know that our sister-friend got her Ph.D. I suppose she defended her dissertation today. How awesome is that?

Felicidades Caro!

El Año Nuevo in Retrospect

This morning, I woke up with a longing for a New Year’s Eve day morning with my mom. Although New Year didn’t really involve as much magic and make believe as Christmas, my mom still had some traditions/superstitions she wouldn’t let go of like the 12 grapes with 12 wishes at midnight. Some she got from the morning shows she likes to watch. We would always comment on the new rituals. Which ones we could and would like to do, but never did.

One year, when my mom was working for Mrs. Raney doing the live-in thing, my mom and I completed the following in the first couple minutes of the New Year:

Ate 12 grapes making a wish with each
Toasted with some rancid Champagne
Swept the entrance to get rid of bad/old vibes
Retrieved pennies from the potted plant with our right hand and threw them into the house

I don’t think any of this really did anything, but it was fun. After running around like maniacs, we laughed perhaps at how ridiculous it all was. Still, it was so much fun, and those couple minutes always replay in slow motion when I think of celebrating el año nuevo.

Blue Christmas

I don’t know if my mom loved to or felt like she had to create this sense of magic for me at Christmas time. She wasn’t like some parents now who refuse to allow their children to believe in Santa. My mom let me write letters to him, asked me what I wanted so she could tell him, and insisted that on Christmas Eve, Santa come to visit. The only difference is that I was allowed to interact with Santa.

Somewhere, sometime, someone had acquired a Santa suit, and I think it was Filly, my middle brother, who would always wear it. I don’t know if the suit had come with or without the beard, but it ended up missing the Christmas when I was five. So they ended up making do with a remnant piece of blue faux fur that had been used in the doll house my mom and brothers had made me for me.

I don’t know if it was the beard or that Santa was so tall and lanky and had eyes just like my brother, but that was the Christmas I knew, for sure, that there really was no Santa. Still, I pretended to believe because it was tradition. Being that at five, I already had a niece, I knew I couldn’t ruin this for her.

During my dark years*, I would dress up as Santa and go around delivering gifts for my nephews and my brother’s friends’ children. It was so much fun to see the look on their faces when they saw me. It made the itching below the beard and hat worth it.

So if it was out of obligation, love, or just tradition, my mom’s work churned out so much more than happy memories. If I were to ever have kids of my own, I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same con blue beard y todo.

Feliz navidad!

Three Snapshots of My Mom

My mom sits across from me at the Chinese restaurant in a cramped booth. She puts a cube or wobbly cherry red Jello into her mouth. She tries to push it through the gaps where her teeth used to be, but the Jello is too slick. It slides out the side of her mouth and onto the table. We laugh and laugh.

***

We’re home alone. My mom decides we’re going to bake a chicken. She rinses it off in the sink and rubs salt and pepper on it. “Here, hold the oven bag,” she says.

I stand there, holding the bag just like she asked. She drops the chicken into the bag and it falls through the bag onto the linoleum floor. We laugh and laugh, neither of us can stop. I imitate the chicken several times as if a chicken carcass could have fallen and landed any other way. It is forever our little inside joke.

***

Mrs. Raney comes in yelling at us about something we don’t understand. We sit there and listen to her. Then my mom and I just look at each other. For some reason, a song pops into my head and I start, “Y los muchachos del barrio la llamaban loca!”

Before long, we are both singing together. Mrs. Raney responds with the same crazy look we gave her and walks away.

Gabi: A Character Study

My sister smells of perfectly brewed fresh coffee and brand new books. She sounds like Arjona, Intocable, y El Trí. She looks like a mosaic with her lightning-struck hair, swimmer’s legs, mocha Frappuccino-colored skin, and chocolate chip mole. To me, she represents gall, strength, intelligence, and compassion.