so i was writing this to brian, and i figured i might as well share it with whomever might be reading this as well. i am thinking about trying to publish some of these blogs as non-fiction pieces at some point in the future. now when i say thinking, i really mean fantasizing because i have not actually done anything about it. i sit in my room at night sometimes and imagine the praise, ¨no, thank YOU. i am so glad you have decided against commiting suicide because you realize that there are other anglos with lives worse than yours.¨ ¨no, please, genius is such a limiting term. i prefer to be thought of as your average incredibly handsome, intellectual, talented, wildly-entertaining person. but i will accept that large roll of cash i see in your right hand.¨

ya, that is about it so far. well, not for the fantasies, those keep going, but i will spare you more at this point. clearly i need to do a lot of revising, but i have not felt the urge to do that yet. maybe in a month or so when i have more perspective and can add some lies to the tales. i mean, when they say ¨non-fiction,¨ is someone actually going to write to my boss and ask her if she is as inept as i make her out to be? (clearly the answer is yes, she is, but this is more of a general hypothetical question). and if someone does write her, can i be there when she opens the letter?

so i started reading my history of oaxaca book this weekend. the govt gives free books to kids in schools around here, which is pretty sweet. i was rocking last night just chugging through the pages (lots of pictures) when i came upon the caption that read, essentially, ¨when beníto was around your age, 8 years old, he lived with his grandfather.¨ so the kids who gave me the book are in high school. i am thinking i am a rock star because i am reading high school books. no. i am reading a third grade book. i am at a third grade reading level. that´s right. 8 year olds, dude.

i still like the book. the pictures are awesome. the crayon coloring really should have given away the age level, but i think i just did not want to believe. kind of like the other day when i found out i was eating an iguana. sure, i heard the woman yelling, ¨güerito, hay iguana, chorizo, cabeza, pescado...¨ (yes, those of you translating at home, she said she also had head). ok, and i realized that iguana is an exact cognate, but it was one of those times i did not want to believe. like the idea that the easter bunny is just imaginary and is not going to know my address in mexico so will not bring me treats like pink and yellow peeps in a basket decorated with fake grass that is easy to choke on and should be labeled because really it looks like candy, i mean everything else in the damn basket is candy, why isn´t it candy, who is the vile-humored creator of fake grass and why couldn´t they have made it edible?!

so the picture book i am reading is great. i am not excited about getting to the part where it talks about the usa annexing over half of the entire country of mexico (ok, i cheated and read ahead; the teacher wasn´t looking and i really wanted to know what happened later) and then occupying the istmo for years while we tried to force the government to dig a canal so we could use it to transport goods even more cheaply from one coast to another.

next week: fourth grade! this will be more a general history of mexico and contains more pictures, but one of the lessons was to cut pictures out and make a poster, so really there are less pictures and thus less writing (think about that for a second and it makes sense. two sides to a page, writing on one, pic on the other, ok. so i guess you dont have to think about it). which is fine with me because that will just bring me closer to grade five. so close to junior high i can taste it. like iguana. mmm. iguana.

i feel like billy madison. two weeks per grade? slacker.