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. 

The Trendsetter

The end of 6^th grade saw the demise of what had been normal life for me. By the time the start of 7^th grade rolled around, I had a dad who didn’t drink and took my mom and I out to dinner a few time a week, a sister in college, a brother in the army, and another brother with a stable, well-paying job. It was weird. I, instead of being happy about this, hit a funk. In fact, had I talked about this with a medical professional, they may have diagnosed me with depression.

Deceit

I’m not sure where I read about a new book about lying. Perhaps it was in the Oprah magazine that I browsed through at Barnes and Noble earlier. Anyway, it pointed out some stats like white lies aren’t really all that good and a large percentage, like 80%, of people tell lies. As I cut through the parking lot to the easiest exit, it got me thinking about all the things I have lied about in particular the things that I’ve lied to myself about.

I lie to myself a lot. Mostly to “fake it ‘till I make it.” On those days where everything goes wrong and I’m convinced my day is going to be horrible because the steamer ran out of water or my alarm clock didn’t go off, I often rationalize that those things will not dictate my day and plaster a smile across my face at the first sign of students and colleagues.

That’s not a lie you may say, but to me, it is. See, this is how I got myself to like reading. I have always read, ever since I was a little kid. My oldest sister used to buy me books from some mail service. I remember I had this huge book with all these funky looking drawings. The book was designed to teach me my colors, numbers, the alphabet, etc. I’m sure you know the kind. I loved looking at it and wanted so bad to know what it said. I had other titles, too and Gabi always brought home books for me from the library. Despite us being immigrants and poor, our house was not a poor print home. My mom always tried to instill in us a love of reading.

My mom always recalls me sitting in my rocking chair next to my record player looking at books and listening to music. I loved having books around and looking at the pictures and being read to.

When I finally learned to read, I was motivated by programs like Book It or by praise from my teachers, but honestly, I didn’t like reading so much.

I would have to read passages over and over sometimes because I didn’t understand the words and/or would go off on a mental fieldtrip. Still, I continued to read.

It’s funny that for someone who didn’t love reading, I actually read a lot. Perhaps my lack of friends helped. In seventh grade, I would spend my lunchtime in the library perusing the shelves. Or maybe the summer that we moved to my sisters and there was nothing to do and I learned to stay up all night glued to a book because I became enthralled by the lives of the characters. During high school, I often avoided going home and hung out in the library instead.

When people asked what I liked to do, naturally, I said read because it was something I did often whether or not I was successful. I faked it until I made it because now, I really do like to read. I’ve spent much of my free time this summer with my nose in a book or listening to one on my iPod as I clean or attempt to fall asleep. So maybe lying to myself this instance wasn’t such a bad thing.

Of Mishaps, Accidents, and Change

I have not had very good days lately. Yesterday, I was sent home from work because my craziness got me all antsy and sickly. Today, in an attempt to clean the apartment for the impending Super Bowl festivities tomorrow, I managed to do the following:

1.       Spill an entire bottle of perfume on the bathroom floor
2. Break the bucket used to hold the mopping solution
3. Proceed to get water all over the carpet and bathroom floor
4. Break off the top of the bath towel chest dropping everything that was on top of it on the wet bathroom floor
5. Slip on water and almost fall

I still have to wash dishes (I did manage to break a glass while doing dishes), get a haircut, and get my mail from the post office*. So much room for more accidents.

THEN, there was the botched project at work. I totally ruined this event we were planning because I was dilly dallying around. I really hope I can find a new work home for next year. I’m so done being a headless chicken. People say it’s me because I do like to work and be useful and make people happy, but I have had jobs that I’ve done all of the above and still had time to come home and cook dinner and exercise and spend time with people I love. I try to rationalize all the work that I do by saying, “It’s for the kids.” Because when you think about it, it does come down to being about the kids, but I can’t save the world. I have this mentality that believes that even if I don’t teach all those kids, I can touch their lives by educating their teachers. But I can’t because some of their teachers are headstrong or have better ideas or just don’t care, and I don’t have the power to change that. Maybe I will finally get the picture.

*There was a furnace explosion near the office at our complex. The explosion burned down two apartments, our mail center, and the office. Had I mentioned this before?

No New Year's Resolution Here

So it’s a New Year. 2009. I will be 29 later this year. I will have completed my fourth year teaching and start on my fifth. I’ll be eight years into a relationship. I will be one year away from thirty.

Someone asked me what my New Year’s resolution is this year and when I said, “Nothing.” They were shocked. They could not believe that I wasn’t setting a resolution.

When I was taking a writing class a couple semesters ago, our teacher said that he was always interested in writing a story that took place on New Year’s Day. He tried to explain why, but I had one of my J.D. moments where I get lost in thought. I knew exactly what he was talking about. How people think that this year will be the answer to all of their prayers. This year will be the year that they decide to change their lives for the better by not smoking or eating or spending so much time at work or spending less time in front of the TV and more time at the gym.

So many people write against New Year’s resolutions. Then there are those that set their lives to them. I fall in between, I guess. If I really think about it, I have fresh starts so many times a year. There is the end of the school year, my birthday, the start of a new school year, the start of a new semester, and then all of those moments during the year that I decide I should change things or the universe thinks I should.

I’m avoiding the resolutions this year, not because there aren’t things that I want to change in my life, but rather because when they come about, I don’t want to have to wait until January 1^st to do it. In the past, when I’ve made life-altering changes, the date had nothing to do with it. I want to get away from this idea that it must be done at a certain time. 

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.

Ode to My Thermos

Chavela is tall and thick como una luchadora sanota. Her body glistens in the sun, but never reflects any facts. The cup attached to her top by screwing it on is big enough to hold the contents of a regular coffee cup, but you would never know that just by looking at it. I fill her up every morning to help endure our long day of incessant whining and last minute meetings. Every evening, when we get home, I take her out of my bag and rinse her out, leaving her insides to dry in preparation for the next day.

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!

Conversations before Spring Break

Why going to the movies with me is annoying...

I can't take the suspense.

We went to see Eragon today and I couldn't contain myself. Halfway through the movie I said, "I hate this! I'm going home!"

I didn't get up and leave, but I did fidget throughout the rest of the movie. I pulled on my hair and cursed at myself for not having read the book.

If they decide to make a movie out of Eldest, I'm definitely reading the book.