may day

yesterday at 3PM, my friend, cristina, and i made our way, walking, from campus to the capitol.

the rally had already begun. activists, poets, activist-poets, spiritual leaders delivering their messages to the crowd that was slowly beginning to assemble at the south side of the capitol. and the people beginning to chant, sí se puede, sí se puede, sí se puede...

cristina and i ran into a good friend and joined him on the lawn for shade and rest before the march was to begin. mothers pushing strollers with babies flanked us on two sides. i noticed another small gathering of children, sitting, eating cookies and playing with mini-american flags just in front of me. the UT socialists, a mostly white, tatooed group of young people, gathered with signs to another side.

at 4PM, the march down congress avenue began. standing up, i realized that the crowd had grown enormous, and i began to feel a little claustrophobic. (generally, i make it a rule to avoid crowds, but i knew that i needed to be here). cristina assured me that once we got to the street, there would be more space.

and there was more space. space for this sea of people in white. brown people in white shirts. teenagers. couples. mothers. fathers. toddlers. infants. spanish-speaking people. english-speaking people. students. professionals. laborers. mexicans. all of us. mexicans marching slowly under the sun. past the businesses on downtown congress. past the spectators on either side.

it was a strange feeling to be watched. i found myself waving at people in office buildings. waving to people on the streets. i found myself happy and proud to be carried along in this crowd and chanting:

el pueblo! unido!
jamas sera vencido!

el pueblo! callado!
jamas sera escuchado!

no somos uno!
no somos diez!
somos un chingo!
cuentanos bien!

una gente inumerable enfrente de mi, detras de mi. caminando a lo largo de las calles como olas pacificas.

a woman several feet in front of me carried a sign with a quote from emiliano zapata:

prefiero morir de pie
que vivir de rodillas.

and even though i'd heard that quote before, that afternoon it resonated more profoundly than it had before.

it occurred to me that "viviendo de pie" was what this march, what this movement is all about.

we debate which civil rights should be afforded immigrants. the right to public education. the right to receive federal financial aid to help pay for college tuition. the right to be issued a driver's license.

that was not what drove this march (although there were definitely signs demanding--legalizacion!).

i think that this movement is about human rights. the right to dignity. the right to receive respect. for all the hard work that immigrants do in this country.

hemos vivido de rodillas. we have done the work that nobody wants to do. we have picked fruit and vegetables in the fields, we have washed dishes, we have cleaned bathrooms. we have done all of this in exchange for low wages. we have not complained. because we have wanted better lives, better opportunities for our families. here. in the land of opportunity.

but now we are tired. de estar callados. de ser invisibles.

we deserve respect. we deserve dignity. the most basic of human rights.

and by marching peacefully through the streets on a hot afternoon in texas, we are finally demanding what we deserve.

@>-->>---

choques de cultura

friday night, a new friend invited me to join him at a nearby country club for dinner.

i am not a regular at any country club, but felt that i knew--more or less--what to expect:
a fancy, softly lit dining room.
waiters dressed in white button down shirts.
fancy food at fancy prices.
more white people than not.

the restaurant at the country club basically met my expectations. i felt a bit overwhelmed by the luxuriousness of it all; i'm not accustomed to being served in that way. and my date and i were the only mexicans--and perhaps the youngest couple--in the room. even the waitstaff was mostly white!

once my nervousness subsided, i started to enjoy the atmosphere. a house band played for the dining patrons. i think that the best way to describe their music would be country-ish. that kind of twang, but they played non-country songs, including covers of fleetwood mac and elvis costello. it was fun for me to watch all these older couples spin and twirl on the dance floor. they seemed to lack any kind of self-consciousness, just danced and enjoyed themselves as if among friends.

then there was this very surreal moment.

the band started to play a country version of bob marley's "i shot the sheriff." and everybody was dancing. all of these white-haired white couples, men in their jackets and ties, women in their little black dresses shuffling back and forth, swaying their hips shaking. to bob marley. to "i shot the sheriff."

irony????

i looked at my date wide-eyed. we shared a laugh. and i thought, well, he and i are crossing a cultural/class barrier having dinner at this country club. these kinds of choques de cultura happen all the time. sometimes i guess they're just more funny than others!

@>-->>---

the culture question

it's been dawning on me lately that the semester is almost over. that i was down to my last few lectures. that i would only have a few more class periods to talk about mexican american culture.

it was easy to begin. i gave them historical context for the "culture" that we would be examining. i've thrown in some expressive culture--art and poetry. given them a school ethnography. we've read a novel for its ethnographic content. all of these things that i hope have pointed to a mexican american cultural trajectory.

but now it's the end. today was my last lecture (friday is the test; next week they will present projects). and i felt like i needed to say something profound.

the point of the class is _______________________.
contemporary mexican culture is ______________________.

i realize that i have no idea how to fill in either of those blanks.

my last couple of lectures, i have floundered. i have not known what to say.

culture is a mess. mexican american culture is a mess. we're too diverse to pin down. we are of different immigrant generations, different socioeconomic backgrounds, from different regions. some of us are spanish-dominant; some are english-dominant. though most of us continue to lean to the political left, some of us have jumped to the right (ugh).

but somehow we are all mexican american. and we have a culture, ever-evolving.

what can i do but confess that i don't know the answers? but then to tell them that not knowing the answers is the point. it is the reason why i research. and the reason i write. it is the reason i assign them research. the reason i make them write.

because i think we can slowly fill in the gaps. we investigate what is happening in our schools. we critically observe what occurs in our neighborhoods and churches, our organziations. we can provide small understandings of culture that eventually amount to something bigger. and maybe that understanding and knowledge can be transformative.

a teacher can only hope.

@>-->>---

una noche de musica tejana

shortly before the show was to begin, the lobby filled with mexican americans of that generation. the generation that came of age in the 1960s and 1970s. the ones who were the heart and hands of the chicano/a movement. they were old friends reuniting, talking and laughing. men dressed in their chicano duds; women still sexy in their cocktail dresses. i was feeling slightly underdressed in my spring skirt and tank top.

at the entrance, a table petioning for support of tejano music. two men selling bumper stickers that read, "don't mess with tejano music."

though i wanted to stay in the lobby to watch the chicanada, my girlfriends were curious about our seats. because the tickets were slightly above our student (or semi-student) budgets, we opted for the cheapest arrangements (still twenty dollars a pop!) and were informed that we would be sitting on the sixth floor. the sixth floor, we learned, was the nose bleed section. we were in row W. the fourth row from the highest row of the ampitheater.

nevertheless, the concert hall was small enough, leaving us a perfectly respectable view of the stage.

the show started at 8PM on the dot with opening remarks from the organizers of the event and the master of ceremonies.

then grammy award winner tejano star sunny ozuna strode onto the stage in a long and elegant zoot suit. accompanied by the mexican revolution, sunny held the crowd in the palm of his hand. his music spunky and upbeat, his joking in between songs... i blushed and let out a yell when he sang, "soy chiquito, pero picoso... soy chiquito, pero sabroso!" members of the audience moving in their seats, sorely missing a dance floor.

after sunny's performance, senator gonzalo barrientos, a major proponent of tejano music, took the stage. he spoke to the audience about how thirty five years ago, student activists--many of whom were present that night--worked tirelessly for chicano/a civil right and for the establishment of a center for mexican american studies. tejano music was the music of their movement.

he invited sunny ozuna, little joe, and ruben ramos on to the stage and presented each of them with texas flags that had flown over the state capitol building. he unfolded each flag and draped them over the shoulders of the three musicians. the crowd roared while the three musicians disappeared, smiling and waving, into the wings of the stage, texas flags adorning their backs.

after this display of texas nationalism, little joe y la familia took the stage by storm. little joe, who wore a dark suit and white tennis shoes (?), began his set with a traditional rendering of the song, "america the beautiful," which he dedicated to all the men and women serving the U.S. in the military overseas as well as all of the veteranos.

the audience yelled for their favorite songs, and, little joe belted them out in a strong and beautiful voice. my favorite was his tejano version of the famous josé alfredo jimenez song, ella. in addition to the typical tejano numbers, little joe also devoted a good portion of his time to some jazz numbers, including an unexpected cover of frank sinatra's "my way."

for the final act of the evening ruben ramos, el gato negro, and the mexican revolution graced the stage. their sound a big band tejano fusion of norten~a, country, tropical, and popular music. and el gato negro dancing and singing into the audience, its members extending hands to touch his hand or a piece of his white suit even as he deftly continued to move his feet and shake his hips to the rhythms of the band.

and there were tributes and there were encores and big music for hours. and even from the cheap seats we could see the glint of the movement.

@>-->>---

new season

the past few days have held texas summer.

the highs have hovered near the hundred degree mark. but more than that, the air, thick and muggy, makes simple acts--like walking--more slow and deliberate. a thin layer of sweat graces my skin even before 10AM as i walk from the bus stop to my office. forgetting my sun glasses during an afternoon drive leaves me squinting in the white light, cranking my air conditioner up another notch, yearning for an an afternoon nap in a cool, shaded place.

and this is just the beginning.

i know that i've become a texan because i find myself constantly talking to people about the weather. the other day i was walking in to our apartment and my roommate was walking out. "it's HOT outside," i greeted her. "i know," she said.

i walked into my favorite coffeeshop yesterday afternoon and tell the barista, "i was going to order coffee..."

"but it's HOT outside," she finishes my sentence for me.

i enter rooms and comment on the weather. "not as bad today as it was yesterday!" and "nice breeze outside."

as if the weather were another character in our lives. tempermental during this time of year.

last night, coming back from an evening swim, i was driving north on the expressway that hugs the green hill country to the west of austin. dark hills and heavy clouds were suddenly and strikingly revealed by periodic flashes of lightning in the distance. once i arrived home, the lightning storm yielded to a rainstorm, a dramatic rush of water beating outside my windows. it ended almost as suddenly as it began, leaving everything quiet and clean in its wake.

the relentless heat and these summer storms offer a kind of high drama that makes texas, texas.

@>-->>---

easter blessings

i bought an easter dress.
olga knit me an easter shrug.
the only thing missing was an easter basket, an easter egg hunt, confetti eggs.

not true. what was missing was my family. my parents and my brother all convened in watsonville to spend easter weekend with my sister and her new husband in their new house.

here in austin, my roommate and i made our way to the morning easter service at our lady of guadalupe. there was an amazing energy in the sanctuary that day. sun streaming through the stained glass windows, musicians and choir members warming up, families squeezing into pews, the small roar of easter morning conversations.

lent was over. and somehow, it really did feel like a celebration.

after mass, olga and i made a quick coffee/pastry pit stop and then headed home to cook. we had invited some of our close friends to our apartment for easter brunch. olga made veggie/sausage frittata; i made waffles with fresh strawberries. along with the side dishes, we had champagne and orange juice for mimosas.

after everyone had their fill, we watched two wallace and gromit adventure short films. i'm not much for cartoons or animation, but these were great--very funny and smart! we all really enjoyed them.

dutiful academics that we all are, we spent the afternoon studying at a local coffeeshop. ok. mostly i just read blogs.
then olga took me to freebirds, where finally, after forty days, i was able to partake of a steak burrito. red meat! i missed you!

we winded down the evening watching some like it hot over our steak burritos.

talked to my family in california during the evening.
realized how lucky i am to have family in both places.

@>-->>---

making history

every semester, with each new batch of students, i am reminded of the historical erasure that occurs within our school systems when it comes to mexicans in american history.

my students are shocked to learn about segregation and discrimination in the southwest. moreover, they are surprised to learn about the movement that happened in texas. a movement occurred in their hometowns. a movement in which some of their parents, aunts, and uncles participated.

this semester we talked about the history of mexican american activism. the crystal city walkout the emergence of la raza unida, the activism, the incredible stances that chicano/as took against discrimination and racism all inspire my students.

we have all been inspired recently by the demonstrations across the country to protest H.R. 4437.

about a week and a half ago, i received an email informing me that students at UT Austin would be organizing a walkout and protest on April 10th, to stand in solidarity on the national day of action for immigrant justice. the walkout was scheduled to take place that monday at 11AM, the exact day and time my class would be meeting.

the same day i received the email, my students asked me if i knew about the walkout. i told them i did, and it provided a good opportunity for us to talk about the proposed legislation as well as all of the anti-immigrant sentiment that seemed to have taken hold of the nation lately. after a long discussion, i told them that i'd be walking out that day, as well. we could just say that we would be "holding class" at the rally.

as a teacher, obviously i cannot and should not force my politics upon them. i told them that i would not be taking roll that day; there would be no punishment for *not* showing up to the protest. maybe, as the teacher, i should have tried to remain more impartial, but after our lengthy discussion about the issue, i felt like protesting was the right thing to do. how could we not?

so today about two thirds of my students showed up to class, and when the bell rang, we walked out together. many of them had made signs. at the rally, many were waving american flags. i could sense that they were nervous and excited. one girl told me that her mother had told her to "be careful. remember kent state!"

she said, "i didn't even know what kent state was!"

these students had no memories of the civil rights movement, the chicano/a movement, the anti-war movement (protesting vietnam). and many had not--prior to my class--been taught about the history of chicano/a civil rights. but they were here today in austin. a new generation of students taking a stance against injustice. and i knew that they would remember this moment, this history that they were making--a personal, political history that no one would be able take away from them.

+++

for more perspectives, pictures, and reflections on today's demonstration in austin, see olga, bill , and cesar.

@>-->>---

incredible hulk(ette)

saturday morning at 8AM. i have driven to the southern most part of austin. headed toward the hill country. noted the green rolling hills and the wildflowers now in spring abundance.

yawning, i pull my borrowed bike out of my car and re-attach the wheel, head over to the group of women with whom i am training.

still in a sleepy haze, i am in a mild state of denial when i hear her say that we will warm up for ten minutes and then ride the velloway (about three miles) once, get off of our bikes and run a mile, then ride around the velloway again, and finish with another mile run.

i feel myself slowly become more awake and aware as i pedal through the cool morning breeze. the velloway bike path has its share of difficult hills, for which i adjust my gears accordingly. after riding for about twenty five minutes, i abandon my bike with the trainer and start to run.

running after biking, not so fun. my legs feel as if they are recoiling. i run the slowest mile of my life, pick my bike up, pull on my bike helmet, and start to ride again. the second time around the velloway neither more easy nor more difficult than the first. when i meet the trainer again, i hang back and drink water, stretch my legs. i pretend not to know that i have to run another mile before my morning training is finished.

then the woman next to me asks me, "are we supposed to run again?"

"i dunno," i say, feigning ignorance.

she proceeds to ask the trainer, who responds, "yes!"

i take another swig of my water, strip off my sweatshirt, and begin to run. i am breathless and sweaty and tired. forcing myself forward under the sun. i speculate that it will take me forEVER to finish this run.

but then something happens. about halfway through the path, a surge of energy. my strides lengthen. i can feel the muscles in my legs propel me forward. feeling a little bit like the incredible hulk(ette), i want to run faster. i see the end of the trail and begin to sprint. i finish strong.

saturday marked the end of my third week of training for the danskin triathlon in austin this june. it feels a little impossible right now. and exhausting. and overwhelming. but i guess that's what training is for! wish me luck.

@>-->>---

shuffle me this

my lovely roommate tagged me this meme.

Instructions: Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and press play. Use the song title as the answer to the question. NO CHEATING.

How does the world see you?
"Round and Round," Bob Schneider

Will I have a happy life?
"Rowing Song," Patty Griffin

What do my friends really think of me?
"El Gusto," Los Lobos

What do people secretly think of me?
"La Paga," Juanes

How can I be happy?
"Cancun y Yo," Paulina Rubio

What should I do with my life?
"Luto," Aterciopelados

Will I ever have children?
"Shimmer," Shawn Mullins

What is some good advice for me?
"Open Off My Love," Jennifer Lopez

How will I be remembered?
"Shake It Off," Mariah Carey

What is my signature dancing song?
"Ahi Le Va," Juanes

What do I think my current theme song is?
"La Pared," Shakira

What does everyone else think my current theme song is?
"El Canoero," Los Super Seven

What song will play at my funeral?
"Dia Especial," Shakira

What type of men/women do you like?
"La Guacamaya," Los Lobos

What is my day going to be like?
"With Or Without You," U2

I'm tagging dcnats and cincy, and laura!!!

@>-->>---

mediendo la vida

monday in austin was grey, rainy, and dreary.

and maybe things were just feeling dreary because we had received news that the wife of one of our professors in mexican american studies had finally lost her battle with cancer.
my roommate and a couple of other good friends decided to make the trip to corpus christi for the rosary monday night and the funeral service on tuesday morning.

though it was an incredibly emotional and sad couple of days, i'm glad that we were able to be there for our professor. his wife was obviously an amazing woman; people who knew her from corpus turned out in droves for the services and sang her the sweetest of praises. so her death seemed like an especially poignant loss. for everyone.

back in austin last night, a few of us were gathered with our professor for drinks, a soft end to an intensely emotional couple of days.

one of the graduate students there remarked that, as difficult and as tragic as the situation seemed, the positive aspect was that we could see the strength of our community in that moment. it was heartwarming, actually, to see all the people who had driven from austin to corpus--many leaving town at five in the morning to make the ten o'clock mass. graduate students, administrative staff, and professors all came together to cushion his loss with whatever love and affection we could offer.

i couldn't help but recall that just a few weeks earlier many of the same people were gathered for the wedding of another professor. it was an intimate and sweet ceremony in san antonio, replete with the rituals of happily ever after.

and that's just how life goes, right? with joy and sorrow in almost equal measure. but the positive aspect through it all is the strength of our community that assures us that we won't experience any of it alone. and there's comfort in that.

@>-->>---

in the back of the bus

friday afternoon

the sun has finally broken through a grey and drizzly week in austin.
the number twenty one capital metro bus, particularly crowded.
no seats in front.
i make my way to the back of the bus, take out my ipod, and prepare to spend the ride listening to the emancipation of mimi.

as i am untangling my headphones, a black man seated behind me remarks loudly to no one in particular, "austin is too crowded! it's got too many people for a little town."

a white man sitting diagonal from him responds, equally loudly, "it's because of all the college students!"

"and all the illegal aliens!" the first man adds. i am so startled that i can't help but turn my head abruptly toward him. i turn back just as quickly. having just hit "play" on my ipod, i decide to "pause" so that i can eavesdrop on the rest on the conversation.

"oh you think it's bad here," says the second man. "don't go to houston. it's like little mexico there! you can go three miles and only see hispanics."

"you know they work here, but they don't spend their money here. they send it all back to mexico!"

"i heard that last year they sent back X billion dollars!"

the conversation proceeds. the two men talk about how the president is only fighting this war in iraq because the iraqis tried to assassinate george bush senior. feeling "sorry" for those boys over there. because they never even had a chance to get married. have sex! have families. feeling "sorry" for the NEXT president because THIS president has driven us a trillion dollars more deeply into debt. hating the republican party. how it's never done no good for nobody.

i thought it was funny. these two men on the bus complaining about too many mexicans in texas. crowding their cities, changing them into "little mexico," not contributing enough to the economy. i guess i wouldn't have expected that conversation from self-proclaimed democrats, who are also anti-war and anti-bush.

at a certain point, i wanted to turn around and tell them that there are mexicans fighting in iraq, too. that some are "illegal aliens," fighting for their new country. i want to defend mexican contributions to this country. because i think that these men probably have some of the same struggles as working class mexican immigrants.

but despite my ability to translate language and culture, i don't say anything. just ride through. get off at my stop.

@>-->>---

new york new york, part 3

friday

at the recommendation of our hostess, we started the day with breakfast at a colombian bakery. the food was great, as was the coffee. and the ambience, well, one of the patrons made it so special that my roommate and i decided to write a joint blog post about him. and his little dog, too. it was quite the spectacle!

with our bellies full, we headed to the empire state building, where we were going to meet a good friend of mine who moved from texas back to new york four years ago. as we approached the empire state building, olga instructed me to "look up!" and i had a moment right out of An Affair to Remember or Sleepless in Seattle. it was disorienting to look up so high and then to focus back on the street we needed to cross.

we met my friend, EJ, were herded through various lines--security, tickets, elevator--and ascended the eighty plus floors to the observation deck. the city is positively serene 1200 feet from the ground. we could only hear the faintest strains of traffic, but mostly the whistle of wind and tourists (like us) chattering about how beautiful! how small everything is!

after our descent back to street level, we perused a bead store (olga is very crafty) and grabbed a quick bite to eat. then, because i am a big nerd, i insisted that we stop at the new york public library--a stately building with statues of lions perched in front--to poke around.


from there, we walked to grand central station, which is more beautiful than i imagined a train/subway station to be! high ceilings, columns, large chandeliers, it was incredible. and there were all kinds of shops! it was very mall-esque.

heading down to the subway, we heard strains of dance music and noticed that there were breakdancers who'd just finished performing. we decided to linger to see if they would start up again. they did, and they were amazing. the moves, the personalities, the incredible upper body strength... toward the end of the show, one of the guys came around with a can for donations. i threw in a couple of dollars, and he says to me, "see my boy over there?" motioning to one of the breakdancers, a white guy wearing a beanie. "he's single."

my friends teased me about it briefly, but at the end of the show, the original guy came back to me and--again--said, "my boy is single. single and available." i was embarrassed and scurried quickly away. but it might be cool to go out with a breakdancer, right?

anyway, we hopped on the subway and headed toward our next stop, the site where the world trade center had been. olga and her new york friends had all remarked how different the manhattan skyline was without the twin towers. that something was clearly missing. i didn't have that frame of reference because i'd never lived in new york, not long enough to be accustomed to a skyline. but that place--the ruins of it--really give a sense of the enormity of the loss. though the official memorial has yet to be constructed, the site already *feels* like a memorial, solemn and sad. we walked around a bit, looking at the pictures, reading the placards, remembering.

from there we walked into century 21, an emormous discount store. felt better as i emerged with a brand new purse. is it superficial of me to feel that shopping really *is* therapeutic???

we ended the afternoon at a small cafe in SoHo, warming our fingers with hot coffee and appeasing our sweet teeth with chocolate croissants.

that evening, we had dinner and drinks at frank's, an italian restaurant in the east village, where the three of us met up with our hostess and another one of olga's friends. it was the perfect place for dinner. good wine, food, ambience, and, most importantly good friends.

we said our good-byes outside of the restaurant and took the train from grand central station back to queens. olga's friend insisted that we take the local train. it was our last night, and she wanted me to see the manhattan skyline one more time. so that, even as i returned to austin, i could carry the picture in my mind.

@>-->>---

new york new york, part 2

wednesday!

always forward-looking and prepared, my roommate sent for tickets to The View, months before our new york trip. we received tickets for wednesday's show, which would feature larry hagman and barbara eden for an I Dream of Jeanie reunion.

we dragged ourselves out of bed early and decided to forego our morning bagels and coffee to be in line at the ABC studio at 9:30AM. we were not, however, the earliest birds to arrive. the earliest birds got the best seats, in front of the talkshow and other personalities. we were in the back, but still had an excellent view of barbara walters!!!

that woman has interviewed everyone from J*Lo to Fidel Castro. and we were sitting in the same room as she was! i felt as if i had narrowed the degrees of separation between me and greatness. it was very exciting. :)

after the view, we were famished and in desperate need of coffee, so we hit cafe europa for lunch, and spent the rest of the afternoon walking it off. at central park we noticed the first blossoms of spring on the trees, strolled along fifth avenue and gazed into store windows where i'll never be able to afford anything.

on park avenue we walked by a store i could have sworn was a cosmetics store, its window displays of highly made up women and decor in various shades of pink. but as we walked by, i peeked inside and saw what looked to be a pastry case. that's weird, i thought. pastries in a cosmetics shop?

olga and i decided to investigate and, to our surprise, found that the cosmetics store was actually a french chocolate shop with a very cute, very pink cafe adjacent to the chocolatier. at the cafe, we ordered coffee--their hundred year old blend/recipe at $5 a pop--and shared a pastry. (i actually sent my coffee back because i thought it tasted sour. if i was going to spend five dollars on one cup of joe, i needed it to be toe-curling good! i re-ordered, this time a cappucino that was perfect, except that it cost six dollars!).

i noticed the sun setting only by the softening light, the hues of pink and orange against skyscraping buildings. we ended our afternoon walking by rockefeller center and then through times square before heading back to brooklyn to collect our things.

that night we stayed with one of olga's friends, who lives in queens. met her for dinner at an indian restaurant in jackson heights called jackson diner. we walked in and were welcomed by heat and spice emanating from the kitchen. our waiter, a tall dark and handsome recent arrival from nepal, graciously took our order and made recommendations for us. i asked about the lamb vindaloo.

"is it hot?"

"yes ma'am," he said, "it's hot." paused for a heartbeat before adding, "it's hot like you."

i recovered from my momentary shock at his statement and said, "i'll take it." made a mental note to give him a healthy tip.

hot like vindaloo? no wonder i like indian food so much.
@>-->>---

new york new york, part 1

touched down in austin on friday afternoon feeling as if i was going to need a vacation to recuperate from my vacation. since monday and friday were travel days, we only had three days to cover the city.

tuesday

we began the day with REAL new york bagels in brooklyn, then hopped a subway to wall street. snapped a pic with the wall street bull (?) and headed to the statue of liberty. we found ourselves in a seemingly interminable line, surrounded by--very loud--fourth graders who were apparently there for a class trip.

i admit that we crowded the fourth graders. we needed to get away from them. we managed to straggle on to a ferry before the kiddies could catch up.

a couple of hours later, we'd learned some interesting tidbits about lady liberty and U.S. immigration from our stops on liberty and ellis island.

cold and hungry, olga led us to greenwich village. though our initial thought was to find a restaurant, we got caught up in the neighborhood, the shops, NYU buildings... i smiled into the cold thinking that this was exactly how i imagined new york to be. olga took my arm and i said, "what?" she says, "i'm excited for you to see this next thing."


we turned a corner and were facing washington square park. and saw the famous arch! (otherwise known as the place where sally left harry after their road trip from the university of chicago to new york).

i loved washington square park. it reminded me of the large plazas in mexico--open spaces where people congregate to sit, eat, read, people watch, whatever. just to be in community with each other. i told olga that the only comparable thing we have in california is the mall.

they were actually shooting a movie while we were there. we hung out for a while before our hunger got the best of us. we discovered a quaint italian place called la lanterna di vittorio where we had a lovely lunch. and coffee, of course.

from the village, we walked to SoHo, where we perused shops, including a well-known yarn store called "purl." olga was in seventh heaven. i was gratified by the cheeriness of the store, but more grateful for the brief reprieve from the cold. i convinced her to duck into another cafe for tea so that we could warm up before heading out again.

we saw a pre- st. patrick's day show that evening at paddy reilly's. an irish band that called themselves the prodigals. they were very upbeat and fun, and they served irish candies and cookies as part of their show. what more could we ask for? ;)

after the show we enjoyed dinner at Rice, a fusion restaurant in brooklyn heights. olga's friend took pains to drive of us along the water's edge so that i could snap pictures across the hudson of the manhattan skyline at night. the pictures didn't turn out, so you'll have to trust me when i tell you that the view was breathtaking.

spring breaking

my graduation gift to myself this year--a trip to new york! i'm tagging along withmy roommate, who used to live there.

as an anthropologist, you know i appreciate the "native" perspective. ;)

hopefully i'll have fun tales to tell upon my return.

hasta luego!

@>-->>---

chicana starstruck

as part of the association of writers and writing programs conference this weekend, i was able to attend a reading by one of my favorite chicana authors, helena maria viramontes.

she had her dark hair cropped short and wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt and jeans. she spoke into the microphone quietly at first, but seemed to gain momentum as she delved into her reading. she writes fiction, but her prose is often so beautiful that it might as well be poetry.

i discovered her book under the feet of jesus when i was an undergraduate. the book, which details the life journeys and work of a mexican farm worker family, is incredibly lush, deliberate, and beautifully written. i fell in love with it.

so when i found out that she would be reading in austin this weekend, i had to go.

after she finished at the microphone, most of the crowd dispersed, some helping themselves to drinks from the cash bar, others engaged in loud conversations over the funk band who had begun to play after helena's reading.

i spied helena across the room, talking to some students, and decided to introduce myself.

i walked boldly across the room determined to have a meaningful conversation with her.

she turned to me with a pleasant, albeit curious look on her face.

i began awkwardly, "hi! i just. had to meet you. i'm. jennifer __________."

we shake hands.

"your book. i read. under the feet of jesus. when i was an undergrad. and i. i mean. it's just. beautiful!"

i think that she felt sorry for me because she leaned forward and hugged me. "thank you!"

then she asked, "are you a student?"

"yes! i mean, no! i just. graduated. with a ph.d. in anthropology. and i got a job! at the university of _____________."

"congratulations! i have a good friend who works there."

helena suggests that i invite her to give a reading at my new university.

"i will!" i say, before realizing that i will be the lowest being on the professor totem pole when i get to my new university. am i even allowed to invite authors to come read?

anyway, we talked--helena and i--for a little bit. i even managed to spit out a complete sentence once or twice. she was so friendly and down to earth. at the end of our conversation, she gave me her card in case i wanted to contact her. and then she hugged me again good-bye. :)

and i was completely starstruck.

@>-->>---

jenn's journey

thank you all for the congratulations and well-wishes. it's only fitting that after sharing all of my disappointments, i also share my good news.

i've been hesitant to write because i don't know that anything else can top the great news i reported in my last post.

part of me wants to let the high note linger.

my roommate joked, "that's it. the journey's over."

she's right. this part of the journey *is* over.

it's strange when you achieve something you've worked toward for so long.
when i finished my dissertation, there was all this initial celebration. dinners, parties, pin~atas, etc. and i needed to celebrate because that project--from its inception as an idea to field work to writing--was three and a half years in the making.
but then it was done and over. and everyone got sober, and i soberly realized that finishing my dissertation was not enough; i also needed a job.

this has been my third year on the job market. i have received DOZENS of job and rejection letters over the past three years. but now. i have stumbled across my holy grail.
and there has been plenty of celebration--drinks, dinners, drinks (did i already mention that?), mariachis. and i still catch myself grinning into the sky from time to time, like the cheshire cat.

but i'm starting to feel the tiniest bit of anxiety. wondering what the next part of the journey will bring.
@>-->>---

a lenten miracle

i planned to spend tuesday morning with a friend at one of our favorite coffeeshops.

when i arrive i notice that i have missed a call and have a new voicemail message.
it is from the same area code as the university in california where i interviewed a couple of weeks ago.

i listen to the message. it is from the department chair. he asks me to call him back at home.

my mind is racing. why is he calling me from home?

i thought this: the chair was very kind to me during my interview. he is probably calling me, privately, to explain to me, gently, why they haven't chosen me for the position.

but then i think aloud, they can't reject me until the other woman signs her contract. and she couldn't have signed so quickly... or could she?

my friend tells me, "just call him back!"

so i do. he makes polite small talk with me. "how are you? how have you been doing?"

fine fine. i tell him that i have just come back from my sister's wedding.

"oh so you were just in california!"

"yes."

awkward pause.

"well, i'm sorry that it's taken me this long to get back to you," he says. "but i wanted to ask you if you're still interested in the position?'

"yes."

"ok. well, the faculty was very impressed by you."

"ok." (i didn't really know what to say to that. thank you?)

"so i'm going to go ahead and talk to the dean, and i'll call you back in a day or two."

"ok..."

"so i'll call you back in a couple of days to see what kind of offer we can make you."

"are you making me an offer?" i ask, tentatively.

"i have to talk to the dean," he says, quickly. "unofficially yes. but i'll call you back. in a couple of days. bye."

"bye."

a little stunned, i want to be happy, because i think that i've just been offered the job. but not really.

nevertheless, i sprint across the parking lot (i'd been talking on the phone outside) and into the coffeeshop and give my friend an enormous hug.

"i think i got the job!!!!" i say. "kind of."

i recount the conversation to her, and we decide that it would be best not to say anything to anyone until i have been given "official" news. i don't want to raise my family's hopes and then have them be disappointed.

so i wait. one day. two days. on the third day, the chair calls again. we have a remarkably similar conversation.

hello how are you? how have you been? are you still interested in the position?

then, after an eternity of talking around the subject, i ask, "just to clarify. have you chosen ME for the position?"

"yes!" he says. "we would like YOU to fill this position."

forgive the pop culture comparison, but have you all seen the movie legally blonde? during the first part of the movie, everyone ridicules reese for being blonde, not smart enough to be at harvard, etc. finally, she decides to apply herself, to prove everyone wrong. and there are these coveted legal internships. the professor is only going to choose four people. the students gather around the list of names that have been posted. the first three choices were expected.

then one of the students says, "that only leaves one for--"

and reese interjects, wide-eyed, surprised, and wildly happy, "ME!!!!"

it's an amazing moment in the film. her reaction, incredibly raw.

but that is exactly how i felt on friday when he told me they had selected me.

ME!!!

y'all. i'm going back to cali!!!

@>-->>---

un favor

i got this idea from cindylu.

i'm curious to know how my blog readers would describe me. even if you are not a regular commenter, please consider contributing to my johari window. it only takes a second!

thank you!

@>-->>---

lenten role modeling

it snuck up on me again this year.

but today is ash wednesday.

i let my students out of class five minutes early and cancelled my office hours so that i could make mass at noon.

one of my students approached me as i was erasing the blackboard and asked if i was going to the university catholic center. i tell her, yes, and she says, "i'll go with you."

we walk across campus together, me in my black pumps, she in her sneakers. it doesn't occur to me to be uncomfortable while we are walking. not even when we enter the sanctuary and bless ourselves with holy water. it's when we take our seats and kneel to pray that i begin to feel awkward.

this is not a separation of church and state issue for me. it's just that my practices of faith are generally very private.

i go to church every sunday by myself; my family is all in california. i've become accustomed to praying with no one watching. singing amidst people who don't really know who i am. and i've come to appreciate my religious privacy. it helps me to focus on the Mass, on my prayers.

but this afternoon, i felt extremely self-conscious praying and singing alongside my student.

i have to think, though, that this is the reason it's important for me to be a university professor. i want my students to see me teaching their university classes and to think that we are similar. we are mexican american. we are women. we are catholic. and we are professors.

so i swallowed my discomfort and participated in the Ash Wednesday celebration alongside my student.
and afterward i accepted her invitation to accompany her for a lenten lunch. ;)

@>-->>---

a comedy of errors

my sister got married saturday. and not without a little bit of drama.

i woke up that morning feeling sentimental. my sister was asleep on the bed next to me, and i thought, this is the last time that i'm going to share this room with her. my reverie was quickly broken when she sat up on the bed, wide awake and began pacing the house. i sleepily followed her.

within fifteen minutes she was on the phone with the florist and having me help her haul boxes of wedding favors into her car. and then, once at the country club, up the stairs, into the reception area.

she bullies the reception site manager into re-arranging the tables, turns to me, and tells me to sketch the table layout.

my drawing skills are less than desirable, so she ends up doing it herself.

we go home, and she is trying to finalize the seating chart. she looks up at me in frustration and says, "sister, will you do this for me?"

"yeah. go." she had hair and makeup appointments after all.

trying to seat two hundred people in tables of eight, keeping in mind families, friends, and familiarities, is not as easy as it seems. but i managed. and hoped that i wouldn't alienate anyone. my dad and brother helped me alphabetize the place cards (all two hundred of which i had written by hand the night before), and then my dad took the seating arrangements to the reception site while i jumped into the shower.

the bride came back home in a frenzy, just moments before her other bridesmaids started to arrive.

i helped her into her enormous dress, and she emerged, through the layers of tule and sparkle, absolutely stunning. as if she had just stepped out of a bridal magazine.

the other bridesmaids oooh and ahhh minutes before the limo driver is scheduled to arrive. he doesn't. my sister grows increasingly agitated as we make frantic phone calls to the limo company.

the limo is supposed to pick us up, drop us off at the church, then go retrieve the groom and groomsmen, who are to serve as ushers. so if we are late, the ushers will also be late.

the limo driver finally calls. he is lost. my sister gives him directions and hangs up. we see a long white gleaming car driving slowly up the street, and try to flag him down, but he turns down the wrong street. there are four bridesmaids in the middle of the street waving, a bride on the sidewalk on the verge, and a lost limo driver.

he calls again and makes it to the house. drops us off at the church and then asks how to get to the hotel where the groom is staying. (we had given him all the pickup information prior to the wedding day, by the way). i think my sister is going to kill him, and so i tell him to call the hotel for directions.

the photographers, dressed head to toe in black suits, meet us at the church, snap some shots, and then ask us about the flowers.

there are no flowers in the church. and bouquets? do you have bouquets?

we call my mom and ask her to call the florist!!!

my sister turns to me and says, "i should be freaking out now, right? the limo driver is probably lost. there are no flowers, so the photographer doesn't want to take any pictures."

"it's ok. you're still getting married."

this seems to cheer her a bit.

the florist, our cousin, mercifully arrives bearing bouquets and boutonnieres. the photographer snaps a few pictures, and then it is time for the ceremony.

my sister, my dad, and i wait at the back of the church as the other bridesmaids walk down the aisle arm in arm with their groomsmen. soon it is my turn to walk down the aisle. she tells me to walk slowly.

when i turn around at the altar, i see the flower girl--our cousin's three-year old daughter--SPRINTING up the aisle behind me. she'd been fine at the rehearsal, but was now apparently thrown off by the hundred or so people standing in the pews. i take her hand and hold it while my sister and father walk down the aisle, arm in arm.

when my sister arrives at the aisle, she has tears in her eyes, and i think about how she was determined not to ruin her makeup. my dad puts her hand in jerry's and goes to sit by my mom. we all turn and face the priest.

the mass goes smoothly until the reading from the new testament. the priest announces, "the new testament will be read by the bride's aunt."

one moment passes. then another. then, all of a sudden, i hear my dad call my name in a loud whisper, "jennifer! jennifer!"

i turn back toward the congregation.

"she not here!" he whispers loudly.

without missing a beat, i walk up to the lectern and read from the saint paul's letter to the ephesians. in english it was fine. but then i had to read it in spanish. and biblical spanish, well... not so easy. i stumbled through all the "vosotros vais" and "os," and returned to stand next to my sister at the altar.

i thought that would be the last bit of drama until i realized that the arras that i was supposed to present to the groom (so that he could present them to my sister). right before the presentation of the lazo, i turn around in my pew to ask my mom about the arras. but she asks me about the lazo.

"you have it!" i tell her.

she is rummaging through her purse. it is moments before the two families are to present their respective lazos. she pulls a small bag out of her purse and then pulls the lazo out. she has tied it together at various points so that it would not tangle. now she is nudging my dad to help her untie the lazo! i glance back and see that the arras have fallen onto the floor, so i retrieve them when she and my dad go to the altar to place their newly-unbound lazo around my sister's and jerry's shoulders.

the rest of the mass is perfect. the groom kisses the bride. the bridal party walks down the aisle all smiles. a million pictures are snapped.

mariachis entertain guests at the reception before the bridal party makes its entrance. the reception ballroom is beautiful with its plush chairs and tables clad in white linens. white roses and white orchids and candles adorn the tables. waiters and waitresses in white shirts and black bowties round the room with wine and food.

our aunts and uncles, cousins, family friends all smiling and talking, my sister, the bride, and her new husband make their rounds around the room, meeting and greeting and thanking everyone for being there. the sun sets in brilliant swirls of pink outside the large windows on the west side of the ballroom. as the evening wears on, guests meander on to the patio to catch a glance of the city lights below.

inside there are toasts and cake, ice cream, a photo montage, first dances with father and daughter, mother and son. and then dancing. dancing until shoes come off and the guests have worn themselves out.

at the end of the evening, my parents and i along with my brother and my sister's best friend await the limousine that will whisk away the bride and groom.

we are tired. the day has been long. and it has not been perfect. but it's been happy, and, according to my sister, happily ever after.
@>-->>---

sense of place

the following is an excerpt from luis alberto urrea's in search of snow:

Bobo was as happy as Mike had ever seen him... He envied Bobo his eager stare, the way he looked in every direction, obviously loving each rock, tree, glint of broken glass on the tracks. Mike didn't know what to call it. If Lily had been there, he'd have asked her, and she'd have said, Sense of place. Something fancy like that. Mike had it: it was Home.

i read that passage en route from houston to bakersfield. a couple of hours later, i found myself looking down at the glow of lights of a night-time bakersfield as my plane prepared to touch down at meadow's field.

my mom and sister were waiting to meet me, and in no time at all we were on our way home. even in the dark i know my part of town by heart. from the airport, we drive toward silhouettes of palm trees dotting the panorama bluffs. minutes later, our view from above is orange lights of oil refineries that never sleep. bakersfield junior college to our right. the gentle wind of panorama drive through a residential area leading to our house.

and i found myself feeling like bobo, loving the palm trees and the oil refineries. the houses on panorama drive i know so well (though i don't know who lives in them!). the college i never attended. i let my gaze drink it all in because it gives me that "sense of place" during this very uncertain/unstable time of life. i am strangely soothed by these ordinary sights because bakersfield is my touchstone. and no matter where i've been or where i'll go, it will always be. home.

@>-->>---

the surreal life, cont.

interview day. university in california.

it began with a pleasant breakfast with the chair of the department.
an hour later, another professor.
then shuttled to meet with students, who i love.

everyone i meet very polite. i am on show. they are on show.

at 11AM the day begins to speed downhill. and fast.
a meeting with senior professors. one question i am unable to answer. another. and then another.
i try to speak about issues about which i am only peripherally knowledgeable.

half hour later, i am defeated. jarred at my lack of preparation. feeling like more of an idiot than i've felt in a very long time.

lunch with more professors reveals tensions in the department.
i feel caught in the cross fire.
still jarred from my interview, feeling overwhelmed by what i am learning about departmental politics, i am taken to a room to prepare for my talk.

during the half hour prep before my talk, my friend, the women's studies professor, peeks her head into the room to ask how i am doing.

i have been averaging four hours of sleep a night. i am stressed. i am unsettled. utterly overwhelmed.
it is 12:40, twenty minutes before my job talk.
her face, kind and expectant.

i start to CRY.
but i can't indulge my tears. i have SEVEN more hours of interviews and meetings.

i grab napkins to clean my running mascara and do my best to pull it together.

my talk goes relatively well, but i don't feel that it matters.
questions.
more meetings.
a ride back to my hotel and a beer with a professor.
dinner with two more professors.

8PM and i thank the last two professors for accompanying me to dinner. taking the hint, they ask for the check.
i ride up the elevator to my hotel room, strip off the suit, and fall onto the bed.
exhausted, disappointed.

that was my one shot. and i tanked.

@>-->>---

the surreal life

at the vegas airport on valentine's day. en route to california.

the stewardess has made us applaud a couple with matching "bride" and "groom" t-shirts who are heading to some elvis chapel to live happily ever after, beginning today.

i am grumpy and nervous and stressed. and i hate to fly.

i am greeted by the smell of cinnamon and butter emanating from cinabon and the sounds of clanging music and bells rising from the slot machines clustered around the airport waiting areas.

no sooner have i begun to walk toward my gate than do i cross paths with a porn star.

for the record, i do not watch porn. (i'm a good catholic girl!). but i recognize him from the vh1 show, the surreal life. he appears just as he does on screen. short, pudgy, and unkempt with his long-ish black hair, green eyes and faded PETA t-shirt. nevertheless, i am a little bit thrilled to be crossing paths with celebrity. i think to ask him for his autograph, but then think better of it. will i really want to show off my porn star autograph? probably not.

instead, i opt to call my roommate to share my star sighting. i leave a rambling message on her voicemail. "you know who i'm talking about. that guy! i think his name is jeremy something. jeremy irons?" five minutes afterward, it hits me, and i text message her--ron jeremy!

my layover will last nearly two hours, so i decide to play the slot machines. after winning two dollars, i decide to quit while i'm ahead and head to starbucks to spend my winnings on a cup of coffee.


valentine's day in southern california

it is a perfect california day. sun shining through a sky, pristinely blue. a brisk wind blowing through the fronds of thin palm trees. i am waiting curbside at the airport when a black luxury car approaches with the name of my hotel stenciled on the side. i am embarrassed to hand my suitcase with its busted zipper to the driver.

i talk nervously to the driver as we weave through the afternoon traffic. we talk about everything from austin, to my job interview, to his family, my family, music, his girlfriend, our careers. i am overwhelmed when we arrive at the hotel, an enormous spanish style complex, its old stones illuminated by soft lights as the sun sets, its palm trees strung with white lights. my driver unloads my bags and wishes me luck.

the driver has told me that the hotel complex--the rooms and the three restaurants it houses inside--is nearly booked tonight because of valentine's day. as i wheel my suitcase into the lobby, i see that he is right. there are couples dressed to the nines in the hotel lobby and in restaurant waiting areas. women carrying long-stemmed roses. i check in and traverse long hallways to my room. i notice "privacy please" signs hanging from nearly all of the doorknobs along the way.

a friend, who is a professor of women's studies at the university where i will be interviewing, picks me up and takes me to her house to have dinner with her family. i marvel at how her ten-year old daughter has grown tall and cut her hair short. they introduce me to the newest addition to their family, a baby girl who is hardly a baby any more! (my friend was just a month pregnant the last time we saw each other). we enjoy a dinner that my friend's mother has prepared, white rice with a kind of japanese beef curry.

back at the hotel, i make last minute preparations for my interview. review the history of the department, faculty profiles, rewrite the introduction to my job talk.

the chair of the department calls to make sure i've arrived safely, to inform me that he'll be picking me up for breakfast the next morning at 8AM. he will try not to be late.

to be continued...

@>-->>---

happy valentine's day

i discovered this poem during this past year and thought it beautiful. i hope that you all enjoy it, too.

i carry your heart with me
by e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

+++
for all of you poetry aficionados, my roommate posted another great love poem on her blog a few days ago. click here for a take on love by sandra cisneros.

@>-->>---

random thoughts before my big day

rewriting this post. when i wrote it last night, i was too bleary-eyed and distracted to be very coherent.

in preparation for the job talk, i have:

* taken my suit to the cleaners. only one suit, but many tops and accessories.
* cancelled my class on wednesday. (my students were very sad.)
* researched the history of the department where i'll be interviewing.
* printed out the faculty profiles of everyone with whom i'll be meeting tomorrow.
* made sure that all of the overheads for my job talk were in order. (i know; i'm old school. i need to learn how to use powerpoint. i just feel like there is so much that can go wrong with something as high-tech as power point. the overheads are v. simple).
* done laundry. well, actually, i'm at the laundromat right now. :)

before i leave for the airport (in three hours), i have to:

* pack!

sometime between the plane ride and my first meeting tomorrow at 8AM, i have to:

* write a new introduction to my talk.
* write in my journal. i need to get my thoughts straightened out before all the madness ensues.
* sleep. this is important. i was sick for my first job talk last year, couldn't sleep at all. woke up feeling horrible, which i could hide. what i couldn't hide were my bloodshot eyes. maybe the reason i didn't get that job was because they thought i was a druggie? now i make sure to pack visene among my toiletries.

today is a day of preparation.

because tomorrow i will be en friega. every moment of my day, from eight in the morning to approximately eight at night is accounted for. breakfast, mid-morning meetings, lunch, job talk, mid-afternoon meetings, dinner. i'm scheduled to meet with about ten people wednesday.

i wonder how charming i'll manage to be with person #10...

usually, some members of the search committee take the candidate to dinner the evening before the big day, but i have no dinner scheduled. i thought that odd until i realized what today is.

i guess none of the members of the search committee want to have dinner with the job candidate on valentine's day.

go figure. ;)

@>-->>---

las vivas de vivo's

thursday afternoon of the rejection email, my roommate, olga, comes in to find me on the phone, crying to my dad. when i get off the phone, i start my sobbing to her.

earlier in the afternoon, before the email, we agreed that we would spend the late afternoon working at a coffeeshop with another one of our girlfriends.
i'm clearly in no shape to be writing my article this afternoon.

"do you want to go get a drink?" she asks me.

"but it's only four in the afternoon."

"it's after noon!" she says.

"ok." (she was twisting my arm after all.)

olga calls for reinforcements. she rounds up two of our girlfriends and we agree to meet for drinks at vivo's, a bright restaurant/bar near our house.

"first drink's on me," olga says.

i am still puffy-eyed and sniffling when we get to vivo's. cristina and laura are already at the bar, looking sympathetic as i sit and start to whine. how hard i'd worked on that application. how much i wanted this postdoc. how upset i'd be if i knew anyone else had gotten it. i am sad and selfish and angry.

three shots of tequila and one shared plate of appetizers later, i'm feeling significantly better. we are sharing gossip, poking fun of professors, commiserating about grad school workloads, job possibilities, attempting to uncover the mysteries of the male mind.

olga suggests clementine's for a sobering cup of coffee. we sit on red couches in front of large rectangular windows, and watch the last light of the day fade. olga and laura talk about knitting projects; cristina and i talk about boys. actually, i talk; cristina gives me advice.

i look at these girls, and i love them so much for dropping everything to help nurse me back to happiness. they all have work; they are all stressed; but they are all here with me.

it's true. i have still been rejected by my postdoc. i still have no idea where i'll be or how i'll be paying my bills come july. but i realize that the afternoon has somehow become sweet.

@>-->>---

wanting

yesterday, i was talking to a couple of my friends about the problem of wanting something too much.

you never get that one thing you really want.

there was the dream job i blogged about a few weeks ago. there's not a job i wanted more in the world than that one. and i did not get called for an interview.

there are a few boys with whom i've had flirtacious exchanges over the fast few weeks. the one i'm not that excited about, very consistent about calling. the one that i like best, the one that i want, hasn't called in a week. of course.

and now this. i have applied for this particular postdoctoral fellowship THREE TIMES. it is my dream postdoc. a two year stint at a university of california school. if you get this postdoc, you are practically guaranteed a job in one of the UC schools afterward. i just got my THIRD rejection from them today. the same, we-had-many-qualified-applicants-but-have-limited-funding variety of letter. it's like someone breaking up with you: it's not you; you're great. it's us; we can't afford you!

i worked so hard on the application. revised and re-revised the essays. had secured the mentorship of an anthropologist at one of the UC schools whom i really respect and like. but it was all for nothing.

i have to admit that i'm a little bit devastated. i really wanted this fellowship. and i thought i had a chance. i hoped.

i don't know if it's the universe trying to teach me to be more zen-like in my attitude toward professional achievement. that it's not about getting what i want, but learning to want what i get (yes, i'm stealing that from a sheryl crow song).

so here is my pessimistic lesson of the day: want not, be disappointed not.

@>-->>---

friday afternoon faux pas

i call my dad friday afternoon to touch base. he answers, but says that he can't hear me. bad connection in the office. he'll go outside and call me right back.

within thirty seconds, my phone rings and i answer, "hey."

silence.

"dad?"

more silence.

thinking our connection still bad, i continue, "dad? can you hear me?" then louder, "DAD? DAD!"

all of a sudden, a male voice.

"may i please speak with jennifer ________?"

"this is she," i say, slowly, hoping that it is a telemarketer, but knowing that it is not.

"this is dr. ____________ from the department of chicano studies at (a university in california)."

i feel my stomach sink.

"oh. i'm sorry. i was talking to my dad and we got. cut off. i thought you were. him. calling back."

"that's ok," dr. X says, generously, though i feel extremely foolish.

he then asks me if i am still interested in the assistant professor position at his school, wants to know if i've already accepted a position somewhere else.

"no, i'm definitely still interested."

he tells me that i am not guaranteed the job, but that he will be in touch soon about an interview.

"thank you," i tell him.

"thank you, dear," he says.

little wonder that he didn't say, "thank you, m'ija."

i'm so mortified. here i am trying to pass myself off as a PROFESSOR and he catches me yelling for my dad.

*sigh*

@>-->>---

mexico meanderings

my roommate, olga , and i made a break for it last weekend, headed down to south texas. spent saturday morning at the beach, the afternoon in matamoros.

we thought we would be brave and drive instead of walk over the border. i had never driven in mexico before and was, admittedly a little nervous. but it was fine. we paid our toll at the bridge and cruised right into town. followed the signs that pointed toward el centro and found un estacionamiento. once downtown, we wanted to spend our time walking through the grid of one way streets.

we were immediately drawn to the plaza in the middle of town, where people were setting up rows of white plastic chairs and a stage with with balloon figures, bending in the wind. wandered around park benches, tried not to stare at the couples who were were spending their mid-afternoon cuddling, and marveled over the tiles that adorned the quiosco in the middle of the park.

though our stomachs were grumbling, i asked olga if we could take a detour into the church, a pink stoned building, with a simple facade. we walked inside the dimly-lit sanctuary and blessed ourselves in front of a white statue depicting the virgin mary cradling jesus in her arms after his death. walked along the aisles, noting the gold plated decor around the altar, and took our seats in a pew facing a statue of juan diego.

neither of us had ever seen a statue of juan diego before. he was brown-skinned, with an image of la virgen de guadalupe on his tilma and a cascade of bright roses tumbling down from the image. olga thought his features more spanish than indigenous.

emerging from the dark church everything too bright outside, despite the overcast sky.

having foregone lunch, we were on a mission to find tacos. i am a taco snob. i have yet to find a place in the US where they make good tacos. they seem simple, and yet there are endless ways to not cook them well.

well. olga and i stumbled upon riko taquito in el centro and each ordered one taco de carne asada and one taco al pastor. washed them down with toronja soda in long-necked green bottles. and let me tell you, it was like happiness on a plate.

with our bellies full, we wandered among the throngs of saturday afternoon shoppers. at one point olga turns to me and says, "do you know what i love about mexico?" a million little things, i think. being able to blend in with people--not too short, not too brown. the rhythm of the afternoon. the tacos! the balloon vendors. the melody of language.

"what?" i ask her.

"the shoe stores!" she declares.

i laugh aloud and agree. there are rows and rows of adorable and affordable shoes at any given zapateria.

we ended our afternoon at a cafe, where we sat outside on a lovely patio. we treated ourselves to two cafe americanos and one shared flan while listening to american music humming through the speakers. "globalization," olga tells me, and i want to cover my ears (to avoid her comment, not the music).

we head back in the late afternoon, and miraculously find our way back to the border. no maps. just instinct. i was feeling very cavalier on the way back to the US, thinking that the border patrol would simply wave us back into the states. our border patrol agent, however, had other ideas. he asks the usual questions about our nativity and why we were in matamoros. "just for fun!" i say, flippantly.

then asks to see our IDs and runs them through the system. i'm dying to know what comes up on the screen when he runs my ID (crazy marxist academic?). he asks for us to open the trunk. i'm certain that he is impressed by my yoga mat and hand weights before he closes it and lets us pass. olga theorizes that we were victims of racial profiling (would they have stopped two blond women crossing back over?). i say it's because we're so cute! he clearly wanted us to hang out with him for a while. ;)

border troubles aside, there's nothing like an adventure with a good friend.

+++
for another perspective on this trip (and some cute pics), check out olga's blog.

@>-->>---

a light at the end of the tunnel

today one of my students was wearing a t-shirt that read:

i'm fine. my grandma rubbed me with an egg.

somebody's grandma needs to rub me with an egg.

i've been invited for a campus visit/job talk at a university in california. in two weeks! it's not on the beach or anything glamorous, but it is a good school. and it's just a few hours from home.

they have most likely invited three or four candidates for campus visits. we will all meet the same people--professors in the department, the dean of the college, maybe some affiliated faculty. some universities will invite students to meet the job candidates. we will probably have one formal interview and one job talk. the job talk will be a 45 minute lecture on our research followed by a relatively intense question and answer period.

all other interactions during the campus visit will apparently be casual. we will be treated to dinner at a nice restaurant. we will drink wine. we will have lunch and coffee dates with university folks who need or want to meet us. and during these casual meals, between bites of a chocolate cake dessert, someone will ask the candidate about the impact of his/her research on the field of history or anthropology or whatever. and the candidate will chew slowly and answer as best as s/he can. the candidate knows that s/he is never safe from a job-interview-type of question. so s/he is prepared.

those of us who have been invited for campus visit probably have the same qualifications. assuming that the job talk is not a bomb, at the point of an invitation for a campus visit, candidates are judged on whether or not they will be a good fit for the department. being good-humored and easy-going are helpful traits in these situations.

basically i'm going to have to charm this university into hiring me. ;)

so start lighting your velitas, saying your prayers, or whatever it is you do. if you have a grandma who does the egg thing, let me know.

@>-->>---

my hero(ine)

i just stole this quiz from my blogger friend, cincysundevil. below are the results of the superhero whose qualities i embody most. ;)

Your results:
You are Wonder Woman

Wonder Woman 80% The Flash 75% Superman 60% Robin 57% Spider-Man 55% Hulk 45% Green Lantern 45% Supergirl 35% Catwoman 30% Iron Man 30% Batman 20%

You are a beautiful princess with great strength of character.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Test


y'all know that wonder woman--lynda carter--was latina, right? half mexican/half english. and we were just talking about latina feminists!

@>-->>---

selena and a feminist dilemma

we seem to live in a post-feminist movement.

whenever i ask my undergraduates what they think about feminism, they are hesitant to respond. after some prodding, they confess that feminists have a bad reputation. as man-haters. after some discussion, they will usually concede that feminists fight for women's equal rights.

perhaps three of every class of thirty would call themselves "feminists."

but then we talk about selena.

"how many of you guys have seen the movie, selena?"

they all raise their hands and the tone of the class changes. they all have something to say. how they love the movie. how they love selena.

"would you call selena a feminist?" i ask them.

unequivocal "yes."

"why?"

because she broke through an industry where there were only men. because she did what she wanted to do, the way she wanted to do it, even if she had to cross her dad. she was strong. independent. she even had her own fashion line!

"and you all admire selena... you think she's a feminist, but you wouldn't call *yourselves* feminists?"

they sense that i've tricked them by bringing a tejana feminist into our discussion.

she's different. yes, she demonstrated strong and independent characteristics. she was incredibly driven in terms of her career. she broke through gender barriers in her field of music. she broke gender barriers within her family by going against her father's will in terms of what she would wear on stage and who she would marry.

nevertheless, the movie portrays selena as down to earth, from a working class background, and incredibly family-oriented. she fell in love and married young. at least according to the movie, she had expressed the desire for a family of her own shortly before she was killed.

my students *relate* to selena because she was family-oriented and seemingly down to earth, just like they are. but they *love* selena because she was a feminist. her strength independence, and ambition impress and inspire my students, a generation of young women, who were perhaps only ten or eleven years old when selena was killed.

and even though my students won't admit it, their ardent selena admiration makes them feminists, too.

@>-->>---

blog tag

my roommate blog tagged me with this one.

4 jobs you have had in your life

salesgirl for the Limited (i'm still recovering)
hasher (that's what they call students who worked in the dorm kitchens at Stanford)
junior high Spanish teacher
lecturer at the University of Texas

4 movies you could watch over and over

When Harry Met Sally
Selena
Amelie
Some Kind of Wonderful

4 places you have lived

Bakersfield, CA
Mountain View, CA
La Feria, Texas in the Rio Grande Valley
Santa Barbara, CA


4 TV shows you love to watch

Gilmore Girls
Sex and the City (still)
Rachael Ray's 30 Minute Meals
Grey's Anatomy

4 places you have been on vacation

Costa Rica
Mexico
Italy
Spain

4 websites you visit daily

bloglines
Yahoo Mail
Gmail
google

4 of your favorite foods

Freebird steak burritos
my mom's lasagna
Quack's salty oat cookies
fresh garlic naan

4 places you would rather be right now

California
a clean beach anywhere
the Rio Grande Valley
...but I'm happy in Austin!

@>->>---

the first day of school

i am nervous. i choose my clothes carefully. black slacks. silk shirt. uncomfortable black pumps. red lipstick.

i rush to campus to re-copy my syllabus. i've forgotten to include exam dates on the first copy.
i examine my class roster and try to gauge--by my students' class, major, gender, ethnicity--what kind of class dynamic i'll have.

walking into the classroom, i take a quick look around. many young, pleasant faces. most of them mexican american.

a couple of years ago, in one of the first classes i taught at UT, a young white woman told me that she was "surprised" on the first day of class to see a hispanic woman walk to the front of the classroom. "but the class is called 'la chicana,'" i objected. she told me that she expected that a white woman would teach it.

today i wonder if my students are surprised to see me--a chicana--approach the front of the room and begin to hand out syllabi.

the bell rings. i find myself talking too much, explaining the syllabus in more detail than necessary. i tell them that though i seem like a nice person, i am a merciless grader. they look at me with skepticism.

when i am finished fielding their questions about the course, i ask them to introduce themselves. they are from all over texas, mostly the rio grande valley and san antonio. their majors range from mexican american studies to engineering. they are freshman and seniors. many are taking the class to learn more about their culture.

it's the first day of class, and all of these students are perfect to me. i have yet to learn who will skip class, who will never read the articles for class, who will become disinterested. at this moment, they are all bright and full of potential. and so am i.

@>-->>---

on unions and the UFW

the following is my response to a debate generated by the UFW scandal as reported in the los angeles time. i thought i might as well post it on my own blog.
@>-->>---

+++

I find it problematic to say that, generally, unions, despite initial gains, do not improve the overall labor standards of workers. There is an entire body of literature within labor history that would refute that point.

I would not say that unions are inherently good and necessary. Rather, I think it important to look at different historical moments to examine and understand how unions have been useful and when they have failed. I think that history reveals various cycles of effectiveness, depending on variables such as the economy, the political environment, etc.

With regard to the UFW, it seems counterintuitive to read that Cesar Chavez, a Mexican American hero, would take an anti-immigration stance. In terms of labor organizing, however, it makes perfect sense. Farm worker unions needed leverage against a powerful agricultural industry. In the late 1930s, for example, farm worker unions were gaining strength and momentum to lobby for greater farm worker rights (higher wages, better working conditions, etc). Union efforts were undermined by the bracero program, which was introduced as an answer to the labor shortage caused by WWII in the 1940s. All of a sudden, farmers had a legal and ready supply of farm labor willing to work for less than what native-born workers were demanding. Farm workers lost their leverage; they were no longer scant in number, but could easily be replaced if they did not work for the low wages being offered them.

(I could go on about the bracero program and how many farmers did not live up to their end of the bargain in providing adequate wages, clean and affordable housing, etc, but that's another post...)

Under Cesar Chavez's leadership, it was in the UFW's best interest to have a stable work force, who knew the history of the farm labor struggle, and believed that they had the right to demand more humane working conditions. They had to be wiling to assert their rights as U.S. workers even though conditions in U.S. fields were superior to the conditions they faced in Mexico. Much of this is still the case with regard to farm labor organizing.

You cite a conservative economist who asserts that in order to improve worker productivity, they must learn English and develop particular (professional?) skills. That makes perfect sense. We have to keep in mind, though, that many farm workers are performing physically taxing labor just trying to make ends meet. Many are hesitant to go to job trainings because of their immigrant status. Many don't have transportation (as evidenced by the yearly reports of farm worker deaths as they pack themselves into the back of someone's truck on their way to work).

For many farm workers, belonging to a union is their way of standing up for themselves, and, hopefully, of bettering their work conditions.

All of this said, I do think it's a shame when unions are revealed to be corrupt.

If this post has made me sound like an unabashed union supporter, allow me to clarify that I am not. I simply object to rampant generalizations that posit unions as inherently bad and business as inherently good. It's important to recognize the various shades of grey between these two extreme categorizations. I also believe that it important to be critical of BOTH sides when necessary and to recognize that they each have moments of corruption and integrity

UFW

interesting debate about UFW corruption going on at gustavo's site.

i just posted a rant/response.

i absolutely believe it important to be able to be critical of our political institutions, but this one guy's comment put me over the edge. there's corruption in the UFW so let's dismiss all their past accomplishments on behalf of farmworkers? it just doesn't seem right.

@>-->>---

feeling sorry for myself

i got an email from a good friend the other day. he has an upcoming job interview at a university in california and wanted to ask for my advice.

as i read the email, i felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. i also applied for this position. the fact that the department contacted him for an interview means that they *didn't* contact me.

my friend, l, described this feeling best: you are truly happy for the person's good fortune but also feel like you might choke on your own jealousy. it was one of those moments.

this university is in california, just a two and a half hour drive from bakersfield. it is one of the most beautiful campuses in california, on the beach. it is a research university with an extremely vibrant and active chicano/a student community. and the faculty in the department is amazing. it is, in short, my dream job.

honestly, i would prefer that my good friend get this job over any one else. my dream might as well belong to someone i like, right?

@>-->>---

blinking

my parents threw me a party yesterday. while i did plenty of celebrating while in austin, i had yet to celebrate with my extended family. the majority of my aunts and uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, etc. are in bakersfield, so the family celebration needed to be here.

my dad comes from a family of nine children; my mother from a family of eight. as you can imagine, i have numerous first cousins. my dad's side of the family had a stronger showing yesterday, which was really nice. with everyone getting older, it seems rare that we are all in one place any more. many of my cousins are now married with families of their own, and moving to bigger houses in different parts of town.

it doesn't seem that long ago that we would see each other all the time. we would see some of our cousins during sunday visits to our grandparents house, but the bigger showings were for birthdays, christmas, thanksgiving, easter, mother's day, and other celebrations. there were tons of us, and we would be running around every sqare inch of my grandparents' house and yard.

they lived a green house on fargo street, on a lot where an abandoned and dilapidated wood-framed house also sat. we marveled when our parents told us that when they were young, all nine of the kids plus our grandparents lived in that tiny wood-framed house. was that true? i hated to step foot in that house; i felt like the floor would collapse under me. and the mice. the boys told me that there were mice.

i remember two metal poles in the backyard to suspend laundry lines. one of those poles was SAFE for a game of tag or hide and go seek. i could hold on to one of those poles and spin around and around until i was dizzy and my hand smelled like metal.

and the outhouse. it looked like a tall wooden crate, painted the same color as the house. it was pitch black on the inside with a dark hole that led to the center of the earth for all i knew. we would dare each other to step in and close the door while one of us would count.

on one side of the house, a tall tree from which we sting pin~atas for birthday parties. the big kids swinging hard, and the brave ones crawling quickly on the grass to snatch fallen candies even while someone was still wielding a baseball bat.

we used to be those sweaty, rambunctious, teasing, daring kids.

but now we are the grownups. we are the ladies in the kitchen making food; the grownups in the living talking about work; the ones scolding children for running in the house! getting too close to the pool! not eating everything on their plates! being mean to their sister!

it's funny. how in the blink of an eye, you can find yourself on the other side.

@>-->>---

sweet victory

my dad sent me this picture from the dallas morning news. never thought i would see it in california!
@>-->>---

haciendome tejana

my family has divided loyalties.

my mother was born in south texas; i was born and raised in california.

a little over six years ago i moved to texas for graduate school, and i'll be honest: i hated it. i hated the texas flags every where; i hated that eight out of every ten business establishments contained the word "texas" or its derivative, "tex" in it; the big trucks; their crazy drivers; the bumper stickers (e.g., God Bless Texas; I wasn't born in Texas, but I got here as soon as I could; Remember the Alamo). the endless texas emblems.

as far as i was concerned, texans suffered a strange kind of nationalism. sure, they were american. but first and foremost, they were TEXANS.

my mother was insulted by my disdain. as far as she was concerned, because she was a tejana, i was half. i told her no. i was from california. she persisted. i came from her and she had lived and breathed texas for years of her life. i had la tierra tejana in my blood. like it or not. ugh.

then something happened. i can't say exactly when or how. but i started to kind of like the texas flags here and there. the badass big trucks. and i had to admit that the barbecue in texas was the best i'd ever had. i started to enjoy certain texas emblems. they're unique, and they give me a sense of place.

and even though texas is, by and large, a red state, austin a liberal bubble. and i'm happy there.

so. even though i am in california for the holidays, i was rooting for my longhorns during this evening's rose bowl. though they were the underdog, they played their lonestar hearts out. and now we--the texans--are national champs. :)

@>-->>---

wild winter weather

any weather followers out there, know that california has been pummelled by storms lately. the valley has also received its share of rain. some valley bloggers don't appreciate it; i love it.

in bakersfield, it has been raining and raining and raining. when the clouds finally cleared early this afternoon, an stunning view of the mountains emerged. this is a picture of the mountains to the east of bakersfield.


the southernmost mountains--the ones that separate us from greater los angeles--loom larger and more green, especially under grey clouds and strains of winter sunlight. it's breathtaking. kind of makes me wish it would rain every day.

@>-->>---