Send Off

The sun is up I’m so happy I could scream
And there’s no where else in the world I’d rather be
Here with you it’s perfect
It’s all I ever wanted
I almost cannot believe that it’s for real
So pinch me quick
-The Cure, Mint Car

Although many memories are associated with The Cure, today, I want to remember the summer of ‘02. The time for my imminent departure was near. My time was split between Lucy or Armie.

Lucy and I would spend hot nights packed into Speaking Rock slinging back bottles of Bud and shots with the guys who had bets going on how many girls’ pants they could get into. I don’t know if Lucy was aware of this since she always accepted their drinks, dances, and walk to her car.

Nights with Armie were always more fun. She wasn’t out to find a man. All she wanted to do was drink. Because of this, we would often change scenes and go to The Comic Strip or some dark bar to shoot some pool.

It was great send off.

Sent Home

I was sent home Friday because my blood pressure was high.

I wasn’t going to talk about this here because I didn’t want people in my family to find out. At first, my reasoning was because I didn’t want them to worry about me. But the truth is that I am extremely embarrassed.

I am embarrassed that I have let myself go this far physically, mentally, and emotionally. Talking to my writing buddy today really made me take stock of what my life has become.

Teaching was never my life goal. I fell into it. It was meant to be a retention pond before going on, but it’s becoming a retention pond with no outlet. Don’t get me wrong, I love working with kids and certain kids really make me feel fortunate and happy to do my job, but something tells me it’s not meant to be my “life work.”

My writing buddy also told me that I’m failing my artistic side. And really, I can’t argue with her. Looking at this blog, I can also see the effects of my current situation and I can even track I got where I am. Sometimes, I don’t even want to blog because I know it’s going to be about work. Every other conversation that I have somehow involves work, and I’m sick of it.

As much as I’d like to give my current life the one finger salute, I know I can’t. That's not what grown ups do. Instead, there are small things that I can do to increase my quality of life. The first of which is not brining home so much work. Instead of filling up my spare time with more work so that I end up like a vegetable at the end of the day, work stays at school, and 30 minutes of writing will take it’s place. Even if I’m not exactly writing, but reading an essay on the craft, editing something, or re-reading things I feel good about.

I have also scheduled into my week three days for exercise. I know I should probably do more, but for now, I will work with that. As I learn to take things off my plate, I will be able to increase real life activities.

When I see how the quality of my life either increases or decreases, I will be more inclined to do more for myself.

Our Ass Has Hit the Floor

I know that as a woman and feminist, I should have voted for Hillary. But there is that part of feminist ideology that talks about helping all people, not just some. I also know that Hillary has a lot of experience. However, when I’ve been down in the slumps after watching Sicko (which thouroughly depressed me for a while), a long day of work battling a system that doesn’t work, reading lists of the deceased in the Iraq war, the only candidate that has been able to inspire hope in me again has been Obama.

Sometimes, it’s okay for the inexperienced to try their hand at something new. As my 9th Grade World History teacher used to say, “Once your ass hits the floor, you can’t go anywhere else but up.”

Civil Duty

Today I missed out on a day of “OMG I’m like a 7th grader so everything comes with a side of extra drama” because I had jury duty.

This is the first time I ever really have to show up to jury duty. In the past, I was able to get out of it because I was in college and I used to help out at the foster care my mom used to run. But now, I have no excuse. It seems sort of ironic though that the state pulls me out of work and has to pay someone else to do my work because I have to serve on a jury.

Anyway, as luck would have it, I was in the first group of people that were called out. There was a lot of standing around and waiting until we were finally released. As hard as I tried to create the sense of adventure, I couldn’t. First, I was annoyed by the lack of organization. My inner teacher was mentally organizing everything with, in my mind, fool-proof procedures. Then, there were the people who don’t know to stay to the right of the stairs. Then the greasy haired guy who tried to make small talk and the old man who wouldn’t take off his damn boots and when he finally did, put them after my coat so they ended up on top of it when they were run through the metal detector. The last straw though had to be the guy that was trying to pick up juror #2, a late 20’s petite Latina. It wouldn’t have bothered me had they not ended up around me the whole time or had I not over heard him ask her if her purse was truly a Prada and not a knock off like a Prado.

I did appreciate that the bailiff wasn’t a total jerk and that the judge was very conscious of our time. Needless to say, I didn’t get selected for the jury. We were all let go because they were able to work it out before the got around to picking jurors.

So tomorrow, it’s back to work. We have TAKS parent night tomorrow. It sucks because I found out tonight that I have to wear my sausage arm, lame staff shirt and it's the same night Obama will be speaking at the Toyota center downtown Houston. Just my luck. I’m not looking forward to spending the entire day at work tomorrow. Even though I live quite close to work, I never see the point in coming home. Well, really, I know that if I come home, I will have a real hard time going back to work.

I’m off to spend some quality time with my current obsession—Persepolis.

Another Great One Passes on

Going to Austin with Gabi and Caro is always one of my favorite things. The company of course is great, but the city has this vibe to it. One of the last times we were there, I had the privilege of meeting raúl salinas.

Today, raúl salinas has passed on, but he has left behind a legacy that, through our work, should keep on for years.

OK Gambling

“Come a little closer baby, I feel like laying you down…”

Smoke infests the air. It’s hard to breathe. Wedged between fiber glass and aging thighs.

From the back, I hear a twangy voice say, “That guy is hawt!”

Another cigarette is lit. A Milwaukee’s Best is popped open.

“I’m gonna win big tonight baby,” says the twangy voice.

Despite the smoke, the air is thick with anticipation of what could be. Will I win big tonight?

Another Low

How sad is it that I’ve already started a countdown for the end of school?

This year has been rough to say the least. As much as I want to be the person that can, I’m not. And it’s not because I suck, but because I don’t delegate much. I’ve gotten a lot better about it, but I still don’t do it enough. I feel like I have to do it all.

All of these extra things I’ve taken on or have been handed have really taken away time from my students, and for this, I feel really bad. I know that it could be worse, but I also know that I could be better. And while I’m rocking out with some awesome lessons that don’t involve worksheets and are challenging, etc., I don’t have the time to spend with the kids. I’ve been out of class at least twice this month and will be out two more times doing extra stuff. Meetings after school and the never ending research, filing, etc, keep me from attending games, competitions, concerts. This is what I’m missing the most.

This past weekend, some of my students competed in The Future City Competition. They built a model of a city that was eco-friendly. Even though I helped out with their abstract, I missed out because I was meeting with my colleagues about a grant to some traveling this summer. Although they didn’t place, they did receive an award for Most Eco-friendly city. Really, they didn’t place because there couldn’t be two teams in the top whatever from the same school (another group placed 3rd).

I hardly get to see the girl’s group. We have yet to meet this semester. After school tutorials are a dream. Making time to meet with students is really difficult. I have to schedule it way in advance. If you look at my agenda, it’s sort of a joke.

And personal life? Hah! That’s a joke! My loved ones hardly get to hear from me on the phone much less see me in person.

I know this is a career choice that I made, and I love aspects of the job. There are days I come home with my head in the clouds because I had a good day with that kid who doesn’t get it, or a kid said/wrote something amazing, but lately, those days have been few a far between.

I just wish I could go back to my roots. Go back to being what I was at the beginning of the year. I’ve seen too much of the ugly side of education. This side makes me negative and bitchy. It makes me long for summer, but the saddest thing is that it makes me wish I didn’t do what I do.

I Kiss You on the Brain in the Shadow of the Train

I spent the evening in a quaint little coffee shop in Deer Park where everyone knows everyone’s name…seriously, the do. If they don’t, they know someone who does. That’s strange to me. People think that’s how El Paso is. Many have been shocked by the size of it.

Anyway, I was at this coffee shop because my friend’s band was playing. It was pretty cool. Their chai lattes are amazingly good. They’re better than very friendly college student barrista’s at the old peep’s Starbucks.

As I was sitting there listening to them jam out, I was sort of wishing I had my notebook. When I’m around creative people, their vibe rubs off on me. However, now that I’ve sat for a while playing Super Collapse 3 (I rock at the puzzle section, I unlocked more than half!), the muse packed up and took off. I hate how she feels like she can do as she wishes. I need to learn better muse skills.

What’s up with this weather? It’s actually been cold around here, like cold enough to turn on the heater. Insane.

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.”

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.

Gabriel

I was going through boxes of crap today trying to clean out the closet, not because I need the space but because I really don’t need all that stuff. I’m really trying to purge my life of feelings, things, ideas that I don’t need. This particular task had been on my to-do list since last summer.

It was kind of cool to run into old journals, cards, college essays, letters, and pictures. While going through the box of photos, I ran across one of my best friend Gabriel and I at my sister’s wedding. Seeing our faces frozen still on a day that was so happy and blessed stopped me in my tracks.

Gabi was the first in our immediate family to have a real wedding. All of my other siblings had run off to City Hall to get married. I’ve always thought it was cool that she had sent me an invitation, not included me on my mom’s. Of course, I was given the option of a plus one. As soon as I got it, I knew there was only one person who could fulfill that plus one: Gabriel.

I can’t remember if he attended the mass or I picked him up before the dance and reception. What I do remember is him saying, “I’m going to dance with all of the women in your family before the night is over.”

And that he did. He danced the night away with my mom, sisters, aunts, and nieces. He even got me to dance with my dad.

Seeing that photograph also made me realize how much I really miss him. I’ve tried so hard to find him, but my searches have resulted in zilch. We didn’t have a falling out or anything, we just lost touch.

Sometimes I wonder how different life would have been if we’d stayed in touch because he’s been the one person I can honestly say was my BFF. There was nothing I couldn’t tell him, he always knew how to make me feel better, and he accepted me for me.

For a while, I didn’t think about him. My mom would sometimes ask, “Oye como estara el Gabriel? Dios lo bendiga.” It was then that the memories would rush back. Writing the story about him put some of the memories at ease. It’s weird because I hadn’t felt like this in a long time. I know that I may never see him again, but damn how I wish I would.

The First of Many Victories

When I came out as an Obama supporter, many people told me I was nuts. Frankly, as much as my feminist self would like to vote for a woman, I just can’t. Hillary and I don’t agree.

Obama to me is someone who can seriously help us out. I’ll shut up now and let Mo Rocca’s words do my talking because they say it better.

Here's the thing: Hillary's the person who helps you pack boxes and organize all your shit when you're moving. No one is more dependable. Obama, on the other hand, is the guy who finds you a new place to live.

Adios Navidad

I hate this time of year. All of the Christmas lights are coming down, stores are dead, and the good cheer is gone. It could potentially be a very depressing point in time. Fortunately, the depression hasn’t set in. I’m hoping it doesn’t. I have three more days before I return to work.

Speaking of returning to work, I’m sort of scared of going back. There are many tasks to be completed this spring semester and I fear that I’m going to lose some of my me time. The couple weeks before school let out, I was working 12-hour days pretty much every day. I did tell my students that I was done accepting late assignments. At least their homeroom and unbook reports. They are given deadlines for these assignments in advance. Plus, they are given time in class to complete the assignments.

I really thought that this year was going to be way better than the last two. It seems like there’s always a monkey wrench to be dealt with. There is always more that needs to be done. Or a new task that needs to be fulfilled. And it’s not such a big deal if my writing didn’t have to take the back seat to all this. Perhaps someday I will figure out how to balance life, work, and writing.

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.

New Year

I’ve never been big on New Year’s Resolutions. They seem like another thing that if I don’t get done I will beat myself up over.

Last year, I made two: work on my writing and be a better teacher. I think I did both. Sure I haven’t had anything published on my own yet, but I’ve been working on it. In fact, I have a lot of new material that I’m working on editing and work shopping. At the start of the school year, I was an awesome teacher, and I know a lot of people believe that my jump from 6th to 7th grade is something that a great teacher does. I think I pull my load and I don’t think I’ll ever really be content because there is always more that I can do in regard to my work.

Since the cana count has been increasing, in lieu of resolutions, I’m making one of those “things to do before I croak list.”

1. Ride a horse
2. Visit the Grand Canyon
3. Spend a day on the beach on the Pacific West Coast and East Coast
4. Go to as many museums as possible in NYC
5. Take a month-long vacation in Mexico
6. Go deep sea fishing
7. Pet a snake
8. Set foot on the eastern hemisphere
9. Publish a book
10.Write a story about Gabi
11.Have the office of my dreams
12.Learn to drive a motorcycle
13.Sit in the audience of a television show
14.Create a soundtrack for my life
15.Donate to a substantial amount to a charity

That’s all I can think of right now. I think this will work better for two reasons. The first is that I love making to do lists and crossing things off. There’s nothing like being able to roll your pen over a task and at the end of the day being able to condense or throw away the whole darn thing because there’s nothing left. The other reason I think this will work is because I have longer to complete this list. Sure, I could croak at any moment, but somehow, I think I’m doing this life thing for a long time.

Enjoy the last leg of ‘07 and the birth of ‘08.

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.

Reading

Today was one of those really long days. I didn’t have an off period because I covered a class for a colleague so that she could observe her mentee and there was a meeting during my other conference period. I ate lunch quickly, so that I could get caught up with some other things during that time.

Right after school, I had a mentor meeting. We did get this really cool gift pack of some photo albums, a journal, and a box for pics and a light dinner.

After that, I went to a local intermediate school for a reading. There weren’t a lot of people there because there was a basketball game, but the audience was quite attentive. There was this one kid there who was really cool. He was taking pics for the year book, and he seemed to be really into the whole thing.

I heard once that Cisneros said at a conference that readings drained her, but for me, they do the exact opposite. It’s so invigorating to talk to people and sign their books afterward. That’s my favorite part of the whole ordeal.

Feeling Listless: Review 2007: Home - "Investigating the difference between is and isn't."

Feeling Listless: Review 2007: Home - "Investigating the difference between is and isn't."

Awesome piece by Annette.