NaNoWriMo

I was five when I read my first novel, all by myself. Yes, it was a children's novel, but it was a NOVEL, not a picture book. That was the year that I fell head over heels with reading, and by extension, writing.

And, because I don't have enough to do as it is, I may have just signed up for National Novel Writing Month. Because the idea of writing for fun is appealing, because writing is one of the ways that I can de-stress after a day of dealing with students and wedding plans, because it feels so liberating to think that I can just WRITE about anything without any pressure. So, there. I told the internet. That means I have to do it.

Aaaaand, if you're as much a nerd as I am, go sign up!

Today

To do:
1. Laundry
2. Urban Econ paper, O.M.G!
3. Study guide for Urban Econ exam
4. Clean my room
5. Pick up books from the library
6. Deposit check
7. Walk in the beautiful sunshine

I've done two of the above, numbers five and six, of course. I've started on number one, and am thinking about number seven, but two and three really, really, REALLY need to get done. Today.

Why is it that when I really have to write a paper I fall asleep at my computer, feel an overwhelming need to clean, suddenly remember that I'll need a job in two months and I should start searching, or think of all the people I haven't talked to in a long time that I really want to catch up with?

I'm currently fighting the urge to nap or reorganize my closet and put away winter clothes. Because, seriously? Not as pressing as FAILING OUT OF GRAD SCHOOL BECAUSE I COULDN'T GET MY ACT TOGETHER LONG ENOUGH TO WRITE MY STINKIN' PAPER!

Back to work... I hope.

She's got a point.....

Today I went into the school where I usually volunteer with the fourth graders. They were testing, so I helped out with second grade. I walked around the room as the kids worked on their penmanship and overheard this little bit of genius:

Boy 1: I wish I had a time machine. I'd go back in time.
Boy 2: Back in time?
Boy 1: Yeah, to like a hundred years ago!
Girl: That's dumb. How would you get back? They didn't have electricity a hundred years ago. What would you do with your machine?

I have to admit that I have never ONCE in my life thought about that as I've dreamed of hopping in a time-machine and hanging out in 1920s Chicago speakesies or 1600s Puerto Rico. Girl had a point - it'd be mighty hard to power up a time machine in 1600s Puerto Rico.
The thing that struck me about their conversation, though, besides the obvious hilarity of the exchange, is that they cannot conceive of a world without electricity. Frankly, neither can I. Don't get me wrong, I've spent some time in developing nations where blackouts are a way of life, but that's just part of the experience, it is NOT my day-in-day-out. These kids have never lived in a world without internet and cell phones. I still remember being one of the only kids in school with a computer at home. I remember listening to RECORDS on a Big Bird record player! I remember when cordless phones came out.
Oh, technology. I can't even dream about going back in time anymore because of my complete and utter dependence on you....

Dang, I'm old.

perreo

This morning I was awakened by someone blasting reggaetón from their car as they parked at the greenhouse-type-place next door. My first thought: ¿Reggaetón? In Wayne? If it hadn't been that it happened just minutes before my alarm sounded, I might have run outside to meet my fellow displaced Latinos. You know, before I realized that women who are technically soltera but not sin compromisos should NOT run out to meet landscapers just because we share a language.

As it was, I was a little unhappy that I lost precious moments of sleep.

Why I'm glad I learned to drive in NoVA

I had to drive in to Philly three times this week, which resulted in me spending a hecka lot of time on 476, 76, and 95. Also, I was in VA over the weekend - more time on 95.
All that to say: Philadelphians can't drive. If there's one thing we know in the DMV (that's DC, Maryland, and Virginia, for those of you who don't know), it's traffic. We, of the three hour commute (20 miles, people, 20 miles!), know how to handle traffic. We know how to keep things interesting - a little weaving in and out, a little movement. Also, we know that on the rare occasion that traffic may be moving, you must take advantage of that and MOVE. If the speed limit says 55, but things are moving, go ahead and do 65 - but stay in the slow lane. The fast lane is reserved for people who are actually moving fast - like 80 fast.

People here don't know how good they have it.... It's only a forty minute commute in rush hour! That said, if we had those conditions down in DC, it'd be a twenty minute commute. Philadelphians cannot seem to figure out how to keep things moving! You'll have two lanes of traffic, and there will be two cars, each going 65. O. M. G. People! Stop blocking me in! If you're only going ten miles over the speed limit, move it over to the slow lane.
Stinkin' Philly drivers....

;)

In gear

So I just realized that I plan to be in LA in a week wearing this little number:


Yikes!

I'm planning accordingly.

On the to-do list:

1. stop eating so many stinkin' carbs (oh, those delicious, delicious carbs)
2. focus on my core like craaaazy
3. invest in a little self tanner (yes, I am ridiculous)

Cali, here I come!

Things I would like

1. A week near the beach - under the sun - with the boy I love. (Scheduled to come up SOOOOON!)
2. Adequate sleep tonight. Ha!
3. If my paper for Urban Econ. would WRITE ITSELF!
4. If the article I have to read would read itself aloud to me, because I actually do want to know all about it.
5. A couple hours of free time to write.
6. A couple hours to write things that are less fun, but arguably have more weight on my future. Such as an essay and a letter of introduction.
7. Some time with the fam. Man, I miss those crazy fools.

Confessions

I hate snow. Hate it. Despise it.
I know I'm going to get flak for this and people will be like, "Oh, but it's so pretty." Yeah, yeah. I've heard that. It is. It's pretty when it's falling down, but I want that ish to melt as soon as it hits the ground; it should not accumulate on any surface that I need to walk on.

Everyone tells me about all the fun they had as children playing in the snow, and to be honest, I have one and a half fun memories of that. The half is that first time I played in snow. I was probably four or five and there's a picture of my sister and I bundled up in snow suits wielding a snow shovel and piling the snow in C.'s toy stroller. I was probably excited about it that day. After that, we did not play in the snow by choice. We were totally over it.
The full memory is of an eighth grade winter camp when we went snow tubing and had a big snowball fight. It was fun only because I was with my friends, not because balls of fabricated snow (read: ice) were flying at my head.

So, yeah, spare me the nostalgia, because I have no love for snow. I have plenty of love for 95 degrees and 100% humidity, so I would not say that I have no appreciation for nature or what not. Give me sun and heat and humidity any day and I won't even ask you for AC. Snow is just not my thing.

It snowed here this week and now my driveway is a dangerous skating rink. It snowed, rained, froze. There are deadly layers of ice and icy snow from the bottom of the steps to the cars parked out back, and even more deadly layers leading out to the curb where my recycling bins have been sitting for days because I cannot bring myself to make the trek out there to drag them back to their rightful place because I don't. Want. To die. It's scary, no joke.

I had to scrape that stuff off my car the other morning and it put me in such a bad mood until the sun came out and melted a little bit of it. Nothing depresses me like scraping snow and ice off my car in the morning, except, you know, maybe January.

So to end this rant on a positive note, I get to escape this frozen wasteland in a month. Mmmmm, Los Angeles.... Land of sunshine, beaches, taco trucks, and heat. Can't wait for the fun in Southern Cali with the sweetest boy. Oh yeah, and my sister and brother-in-law. Yay.

Random

I can feel a couple heavy blog topics brewin' right about now, so I wanted to throw in a little something light before I expound on issues of race and ethnicity, grace, and the city of Nineveh (in separate posts, of course), and a couple of poems (if you're lucky).

For today, nothing but randomness:

1. I'm fascinated/obsessed with Ernesto "Che" Guevara and Marilyn Monroe for reasons that are the same but different. They're both people who have come to symbolize something much greater than themselves (revolution, feminine beauty), both people who lost their lives at young ages and under mysterious circumstances, both people with an amazing potential who didn't have the chance to fulfill it.
I read Che's Bolivian Diary as well as The Motorcycle Diaries this past summer, and when I can read for fun again, I plan to read more of his works. The thing is, he's a brilliant writer, even if you can't/don't agree with all of his ideas. I loved The Motorcycle Diaries because it showed him in all his idealism, before he was so radicalized, before he was El Comandante Che Guevara. There's a hopefulness in his writing and an idealism that I can connect with. But by the time the Bolivian Diary rolls around, this has been replaced by stubborn adherence to a failed ideal. That tragedy is what intrigues me.
That's what I see in Marilyn as well. She was this young woman who'd had a rough, rough life, but she kept hoping that she'd make it. And then she did. She never really knew what an impact she had; never really knew her inside out beauty. But she also had this idealism, this optimism, about her that was just luminous. Ultimately, though, it was that stubborn lack of self-confidence and the way she was shamelessly used that led to her demise.
They say Che was executed by the Bolivian army, but they also say he was executed by the CIA. They say that Marilyn committed suicide, but they also say that she was killed by the Mafia. That mystery - and I'll admit to being a bit of a conspiracy theorist where these two are involved - is pretty interesting as well.
Ah, and as a side note, my favorite poem in the world is "Oración por Marilyn Monroe" by Ernesto Cardenal, a liberation theologist from Nicaragua. You can find it here.

2. I have always, always, always, for as long as I can remember, wished that my skin were at least five shades darker. Daggone Spanish and Italian blood! I've always wished that my African and Taíno heritage would be more apparent in this light skin. I can't even tell you the complex I have because of it. My sister is wonderfully dark, and I'm so stinkin' pale. I've had people question my Puerto Rican-ness because of it, which makes me so. Stinkin'. Mad.

3. I always have hummus in the fridge because it is a delicious and convenient source of lean protein. I spread it on sandwiches, stuff it in pitas, eat it with carrot sticks and broccoli, and use it as salad dressing. Good and versatile stuff, hummus.

4. I feel personally offended when Puerto Ricans call themselves "Boriquas" with a "Q". UGH! Spell it right if you want those Puerto Rican points! "BORICUA", with a "C". Thank you.

5. I am obsessed with the concept of grace. It's a big, big thing, and I wonder if we've softened it or skipped over it in modern US Christianity. I'm grateful I spent a few years as a "hot mess", because those years have helped me realize how wonderfully all-encompassing grace really is.

6. As I've gotten older, I realize how little I care about what people say about me. This is a big deal for a Latina where el qué dirán is always just under the surface, especially in the church circuit. So I'm not apologizing for loving hip-hop, engaging in politics, and speaking Spanish in public, among other things. Which is not to say that I'm completely free of this qué dirán thing, just that I can see myself getting there, because I'm only trying to make One Person really, really happy with me.

7. I'm much more attached to my family than most people my age. In that way, I'm so Latina.

8. Corny as it sounds, I really believe that whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. The fact that Kanye sings about it just makes me more able to work his lyrics into conversation. I do love me some Kanye.

9. I miss having a tv so I can watch telenovelas, AI, House, and Bones. Also, I heart Food Network and Top Chef. Sigh. I wish I liked tv less.

10. I love the physical act of writing: the contact with paper, the sound of pencil on the page, the satisfaction of seeing lines of my own handwriting on a page.... Blogging, while fun, doesn't give me the same feeling.

So much for not going too deep....

Y'all...

People always make fun of me for loving country music the way I do. They laugh even more when I say my top three musical genres are (in no particular order) probably hip-hop, salsa, and country.
I don't often have to defend salsa - it's hot, it's danceable, it's distinctly Latin. Same goes for hip-hop - it's hot, it's danceable, it has the potential to be very smart and thought provoking....

I wish I could say the same about country, but people are always hatin' on country. I tell you, it is so underrated.
Here's what I like about it:
1. Story songs. I like songs that make sense, and stories do. They're these little snippets of life set to music, and who doesn't love a story?
2. They still believe in being in love forever. Think of all those great "love" songs from other genres - they're about heartbreak, or unrequited love, or lust. Country has some great songs about the sexiness of everyday love. Of growing old with someone, of celebrating the different stages of life with the same person, of sticking through those hard things and making it. I like that; there's something real about it that's sorely lacking from so many other forms of entertainment where the only part of the relationship that matters is that exciting pursuit and the sweet honeymoon part of it. Country celebrates that and all the mundane aspects of love and relationships.
3. On a related note, they talk about family. As a Latina, family is crazy important to me. Crazy, crazy important. My mom and I have become such good friends now that I'm an adult, I love my sister dearly, and I have always, always been Daddy's li'l girl. When I hear those songs about leaving home for the first time, or about dads and daughters, I get a little choked up. There are so few songs about family in other genres.
4. It's so stinkin' American. Y'all know I'm not that patriotic; I'm not talking Toby Keith post-9/11 talking about boots in anyone's rear. I'm talking about the searching for undiscovered places, the beauty of long afternoons in the country, the love of freedom, faith in God, and the faith that we can get through tough times. Those are the parts of American culture that I really like, and they come through in the lyrics.
5. The music itself. These are real people, playing real instruments - obscure instruments at times. There are fiddles and rhythm guitars and mandolins and drums and guitars.... There's a richness to the music with all those layers of guitars, the subtle harmonies, and a rawness you can't get from the slick studio productions with drum and bass machines. I appreciate that.

I like the twangs, but a lot of modern country is less twangy than it once was, which makes it more palatable for more people - the thing is I wish people'd give it a chance, because they might discover it's so much better than they'd thought.

Impulse

I might have just purchased this bathing suit from Victoria's Secret sale....



I guess I'm looking forward to Spring Break.

Now excuse me while I do a few crunches....

sister

So I switched my email yesterday and sent out one of those obligatory "I have a new email address" mass emails that ended with "Change is good, right?"
To which my sister, that priceless little gem, replied:

"Change is wonderful! like getting married, joining the gym, and eating morningstar sausage patties..."

Whaaaaaaat?! Man, I miss that crazy kid....

The project beckons

but in the meantime:
Lovelovelovelovelove!

Blue toothin'

Because phone convos aren't the only things that distract the average driver.

I heart "Pearls Before Swine"

Random

I wish my eyes worked better than they do. As I write, I'm squinting at the screen and soon I will be squinting at my books, still fighting this headache that has come on because I. Can't. See.

Ugh, my eyes!

Hold up, pass me my glasses....

Study break!

What Your Favorite Color Green Says About You:

Balanced --- Relaxed --- Flexible Compassionate --- Philosophical --- Humble Loyal --- Inventive --- Unique

What Does Your Favorite Color Say About You?

Internet quizzes are never wrong about these things.
Now, back to Urban Politics.... Boo....

P.O.V

This makes me wish I had a tv that got reception: "Critical Condition"

Oh well, hope someone sees it and tells me all about it....
I freakin' love PBS!

My brain is fried

So I was doing a little preliminary research on the topic I want to pursue for my Urban Politics midterm - the role of Latinos in Philadelphia politics - but I'm having a hard time finding some real data. I mean, in a city that was 8.5% Latino almost 9 years ago (we all know that's gone up) I find it hard to believe that there isn't more information about mobilizing the Latino community (about 75% Puerto Rican, so don't give me the "they can't vote" argument!) to take political action. Hmmm... Just makes me think, is all. I think I'll find info, it'll just take a bit of legwork, and it's a topic I'm interested in, so I'll do what I have to do.

In lighter news, I was sitting here, calmly looking for information, when I felt something tickling my arm. I looked down and there was this huge brown spider just crawling along. I don't normally have a problem with spiders, but I do have an issue with them invading my personal space, and my skin is definitely my personal space. I swept it off, and it fell to the floor, and now I'm a little creeped out by this bold little arachnid just crawlin' around. I don't want to swallow it in my sleep....

ramble.

I should be reading because I've been slacking all night: chatting with J. and BK. - the old Mission Year roomies, catching up with my current roommate J., facebook.... We'll just say I've been a little distracted. Plus, I tried a little studying with B., but ended up mostly reading the same paragraphs over and over again, distracted by how comfortable his shoulder is. I did read an article and a half, which is something, right? Ha ha. I'm such a slacker by the end of the week....

Anyway, I'm dealing with a lot of tough issues in my classes, and trying to see how they fit into my experience, or the other way around, I can't tell anymore. I'm trying to bridge that gap between theory and practice, and I'm realizing I'm a bit on the cynical side sometimes. I guess that's what happens when you've spent a little time in the "real world".

I'm also being confronted with a lot of my own selfishness and doubt and basic brokenness. Not that that's a bad thing. It's actually the kind of thing that produces growth, and that's why I'm here and doing this crazy thing. I'm trying to become less like what I "should be" and more like what God wants me to be. Not that I'm always good at that, just that that's the goal. It's funny, because I'm not completely settled, I'm uncomfortable and out of my element, things aren't easy, and God is dealing with me in big and small ways, but I feel this PEACE. Like, when the Bible talks about paz que sobrepasa todo entendimiento (Phil 4:7), this is it - at least in my limited understanding. Like I can just lean back in these arms of love and know that though things are crazy, it's not up to me to worry about it, and that it's all being taken care of.