stemming from the start of my last entry is this: the world seems to wait years in between major events. lots of years between world war 1 and 2, am i right?
the point? after two years, the billy returns. ok, i did go back to the usa two weeks ago for a conference, but that does not really count. i saw no one i knew, and hung out with teachers and worked. not a real visit. plus, the people harassed me at the airport about why i had been absent for two years from the usa. what do i do in mexico? teach. why? umm... how long am i staying? 5 days. why so short? i have to go back to work.
and so on.
anyway, i return july 19th and leave the 24th (thurs arrival, tues departure). if you are available and able, come to va and see me. i will regale you with lively tales and treat you to some salsa i am bringingback. watch me struggle in public as i randomly speak spanish to people because it has been two years since i bought anything without speaking spanish. i think it will be amusing. it may be the last time you see me with short hair for a while also, and that, in itself, is a treat. or not.
right. i hope you can make it. if you cannot, i will understand (but secretly curse you- i also have many many stories of witchcraft which i am, literally, afraid to write on this blog for fear that something might happen to me).
two years is a lot, especially if you are a dog (because then it is 14).
03 July 2007
interesting thing about the world in general that the usa does not really share. sporting events, major events, take place every few years. world cup: 4 years in between. copa america: 3 years. america´s cup (sailing): ni (no idea, but it is not every year).
my point is that the rest of the world seems to have more patience than we do in the states. super bowl: every 12 months. every major sporting event has championships every year. ok, mexican soccer has 2 champions a year, but that is off the point.
perhaps this is why when i go to take a shower at 7am and there is no water, no one else seems overly concerned. i roll into work looking dishevelled and rather rough, but then again, it is summer. i really cannot describe to you, have you never experienced it, the feeling of having shampoo in your hair, soap under your arms and no way to rinse it away. just getting your eyes open at that point aint so simple. you must find the towel, and if you are like me and shower immediately after waking, you really are not quite awake yet, so that damn towel could be anywhere and the longer you take to find it the more searing pain you feel as the soap works to clean two objects that were never meant to be cleaned with soap. i am talking about the eyes here people. sensitive.
if you are up for something different, i have an idea for those of you who live with others. roommmates, wife and children (jam dougherty i am looking at you on this one, of course i do no believe you have not sired a youngun´ somewhere along the line), if you are in mexico, mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, grandparent, cousin, etc. all of these would work.
step 1. reconnoiter your property (i count rental property as your own as long as you occupy it). get to know things like the electrical box, plumbing pipes and, while you are at it, learn how to turn the hot water heater on and off. these are good basic things to know. they have nothing to do with our experiment, but consider step 1 the precursor; you cant take calculus without algebra can you? can you? this is a question people.
step 2. now that you are familiar with pipes and such, you probably know that you can shut those pipes and restrict, nay stop, the flow of water coming from said pipes.
step 3. yes, you know where this is going, but continue with the steps. it is about the process. the journey not the destination. the path not the... whatever, you get it.
step 3. (the last step was not really a step) wait until someone gets in the shower and turn off all televisions and radios. wait maybe 3 minutes. if possible, talk to the person in the shower and find out where they are in the cleaning process (shampoo, conditioner-if they use it- soap, shaving, etc.). ideally, you want shampoo in the hair and soap on the body. this may or not be possible, but you know, we all gotta have goals in life.
step 4. find that shutoff valve and close it. slowly. you want to do this slowly because you want the person in the shower to hope the water will come back. if you are really cunning and creative (notice i am not using words like ¨cruel¨ ¨evil¨ ¨ruthless¨ ¨heartless¨ or any of these pejoratives you might be considering) then you will shut off the water only partway, then turn it back on. if you have you turned off all electic appliances (and sent any children outside), you may hear sound wonderful sounds of anger and disbelief coming from the bathroom. this will be the person in the shower coming to terms with the unexpected. do not shy away from this. embrace it as a fruit of your labor.
step 5. once shut off, run, do not walk, to the bathroom (with a camera if possible).
step 6. enter noisily. dont try to hide anything. let the profanity be your guide here. snap your pictures (digital, film and mental) and laugh and laugh and laugh.
step 7. depending on the stage of undress, send me the pictures. or, better yet, start a blog and post them on the internet.
step 8. never tell the other person how to turn the water off. you may have to lie at this point. stand firm. you are morally right on this (say that if necessary and then tell the person, if they dare question how you are ¨morally right¨ that even asking that question of you means they have much to learn. drop them a copy of aristotle´s ¨nichomachean ethics¨ or even ¨crito¨written by plato. they will never read it, so you are totally safe and, of course, morally superior. if they do read it, well, send me an email and we can discuss your options and i will send you some other authors to peruse, namely nietzsche, who will fill you with a sense of superiority no matter what).
feel free to thank me later for this idea. onwards and upwards.
my point is that the rest of the world seems to have more patience than we do in the states. super bowl: every 12 months. every major sporting event has championships every year. ok, mexican soccer has 2 champions a year, but that is off the point.
perhaps this is why when i go to take a shower at 7am and there is no water, no one else seems overly concerned. i roll into work looking dishevelled and rather rough, but then again, it is summer. i really cannot describe to you, have you never experienced it, the feeling of having shampoo in your hair, soap under your arms and no way to rinse it away. just getting your eyes open at that point aint so simple. you must find the towel, and if you are like me and shower immediately after waking, you really are not quite awake yet, so that damn towel could be anywhere and the longer you take to find it the more searing pain you feel as the soap works to clean two objects that were never meant to be cleaned with soap. i am talking about the eyes here people. sensitive.
if you are up for something different, i have an idea for those of you who live with others. roommmates, wife and children (jam dougherty i am looking at you on this one, of course i do no believe you have not sired a youngun´ somewhere along the line), if you are in mexico, mother, father, sister, brother, uncle, aunt, grandparent, cousin, etc. all of these would work.
step 1. reconnoiter your property (i count rental property as your own as long as you occupy it). get to know things like the electrical box, plumbing pipes and, while you are at it, learn how to turn the hot water heater on and off. these are good basic things to know. they have nothing to do with our experiment, but consider step 1 the precursor; you cant take calculus without algebra can you? can you? this is a question people.
step 2. now that you are familiar with pipes and such, you probably know that you can shut those pipes and restrict, nay stop, the flow of water coming from said pipes.
step 3. yes, you know where this is going, but continue with the steps. it is about the process. the journey not the destination. the path not the... whatever, you get it.
step 3. (the last step was not really a step) wait until someone gets in the shower and turn off all televisions and radios. wait maybe 3 minutes. if possible, talk to the person in the shower and find out where they are in the cleaning process (shampoo, conditioner-if they use it- soap, shaving, etc.). ideally, you want shampoo in the hair and soap on the body. this may or not be possible, but you know, we all gotta have goals in life.
step 4. find that shutoff valve and close it. slowly. you want to do this slowly because you want the person in the shower to hope the water will come back. if you are really cunning and creative (notice i am not using words like ¨cruel¨ ¨evil¨ ¨ruthless¨ ¨heartless¨ or any of these pejoratives you might be considering) then you will shut off the water only partway, then turn it back on. if you have you turned off all electic appliances (and sent any children outside), you may hear sound wonderful sounds of anger and disbelief coming from the bathroom. this will be the person in the shower coming to terms with the unexpected. do not shy away from this. embrace it as a fruit of your labor.
step 5. once shut off, run, do not walk, to the bathroom (with a camera if possible).
step 6. enter noisily. dont try to hide anything. let the profanity be your guide here. snap your pictures (digital, film and mental) and laugh and laugh and laugh.
step 7. depending on the stage of undress, send me the pictures. or, better yet, start a blog and post them on the internet.
step 8. never tell the other person how to turn the water off. you may have to lie at this point. stand firm. you are morally right on this (say that if necessary and then tell the person, if they dare question how you are ¨morally right¨ that even asking that question of you means they have much to learn. drop them a copy of aristotle´s ¨nichomachean ethics¨ or even ¨crito¨written by plato. they will never read it, so you are totally safe and, of course, morally superior. if they do read it, well, send me an email and we can discuss your options and i will send you some other authors to peruse, namely nietzsche, who will fill you with a sense of superiority no matter what).
feel free to thank me later for this idea. onwards and upwards.
28 June 2007
21 hours ago i was livid. or, to use an expression i often heard my father and anthony say, i was hot.
first, let´s go back 46 hours. the office secretary came by and gave me a slip of paper. she did so casually, as though there were nothing special about it, and sauntered off to do whatever it is she does. noticing that in my hands was a note from the postal service of mexico, i was pleased because the package my sister amy sent had arrived. finally. then i noticed the date, june 18 (this was june 26th), and that the slip said ¨second notice.¨
i had left for the states on june 18th, so if this was the second notice, the first should have arrived at least 4 days earlier. june 14 saw me at school, teaching, normal routine. where was notice the first?
unable to make it to the post office before it closed (did i mention i was offered a full-time position at my school on this same afternoon?), i put off the trip for the next day. one day. big deal.
my friend gave me a ride to the post office and i arrived 15minutes before closing time. when i left 40 minutes later, i was, to say the least, nonplussed.
as i handed the woman behind the counter my slip, she asked me for my id. she wrote my passport number down on the paper i gave her and shuffled off to find my package.
do you ever think you know when there is going to be a problem? you order food, without onions would be a great example because onions are evil, and yet you know when it arrives that the food will have onions. people might call you paranoid, negative, a pain in the ass, whatever, but you know you are right. and then, when the food arrives, fucked up, you look to the other person to confirm that you were right. but, being right, does not make you happy. if anything, it pisses you off even more. naturally, you seek a vent for this frustration. profanity? depends on the scene. surly attitude toward any and all ¨help¨? definitely.
thus, as the older lady returned and informed more than asked that i had already received the package, i looked to my friend, who, alas, stayed in the car, and then paused before responding.
¨no¨
sometimes it is very pleasing that english and spanish coincide so. it was perhaps, i see it now, my pause that made her hesitate. she opened a red book with lots of lines, pages, signatures, and other scribblings of, probably, the five year olds who run el servicio postal mexicano.
¨look again¨ i said as curtly as possible. she complied and, if it were possible, crawled into the back room. clearly, i was ready to jump the counter, damn the sign informing that the area was for authorized personnel only. i refrained as the man with the uzi, i shit you not he carried an uzi, outside the door somehow calmed me.
i was then informed that my package had indeed been picked up already. i told her as cooly as possibly that my twin did not live in this country and either way, we spelled our first names differently. this confused her just long enough to prove to me she was at least listening.
five minutes later she returned from the overseer´s office (i think he is probably like 7yrs old) and motioned me to enter.
was this a trap? would the uzi man gun me down as i crossed the line into another world, a realm without reason where packages are distributed willnilly on a first come first served basis? no. it was not.
amazingly, i think the overseer was inclined to think that showing me a photocopy of identification of the person who retrieved a package clearly addressed to william davis would assuage my growing hostility. hmm. alberto flores zamora. well, we both have two ¨l´s¨ in our names at some point. looking into the eyes of the head of such an organized and professional outfit, i saw the one thing i knew i could never fight against and win.
indeed, what i saw in his eyes is not something you easily forget, nor is it easily feigned (although i certainly do not rule out he feels this way, or acts like it, daily). i restated the obvious to him hoping his look would change.
¨so you are telling me the mexican postal service gave a package addressed to william davis to alberto flores? what, then, is the purpose of showing you an id? can i have someone else´s package? i will show you my id first.¨
no, sarcasm went right past this one, as i feared it would, because he was, sadly, simple. in his eyes i saw that he did not really understand. he believed in what he had done. to him, he acted like loyal employee and faithful worker. on the package were the words ¨itesm¨. this is where i work. alberto flores told him he worked for itesm. ergo, the package went to the correct person.
flabbergasted and rather deflated, i accepted the situation as it was (you cannot browbeat a child who does not understand what it did was wrong any more than you should whip a horse for wanting the apple in your hand). what, praytell, did the mexi postal servce intend to do? well, first i needed to write explaining i wanted the matter looked into by them.
right.
did i have a pen on me, inquired the cretin. no (of course i did, but i was going to take his and keep it).
sitting at the desk, so kind that he offered me a seat, i thought of how i wanted to word the letter. oh, he told me what i needed to write, but i brushed aside his advice in favor of something more, how shall i put it, more strongly worded.
did i know that this letter would never leave that office? that no matter what i asked for i would not receive? that the mexi postal service ¨team¨ no more interest in me than i have in embroidery? yes. did i feel the need to release some hostility? indeed (a huevo- this is rather vulgar so i dont suggest repeating it the next time your spanish speaking server asks you if you would like another beverage, more salsa or the check).
¨i, william davis, arrived at the mexican postal service on (address) today at 1645 hours to retrieve a package. unfortunately, the workers of the m.p.s. had decided to give my package to alberto flores zamora of (address) without my consent or knowledge. acting for more me is not something i ever wanted the mps, or (and here i wrote the names of the kind staff who had assisted me so far) to do, nor would i ever like them to do so in the future.
negligence (i asked the overseer how to spell this word, to which he looked quite surprised and somewhat taken aback before slowly spelling it for me) by the staff of the m.p.s. is clear in this case; therefore, i request that said staff look for and find alberto flores zamora. then, i want my package delivered, preferably intact, by whom is not important, to me at (school address).
sincerely,
william davis
so ya, that took me about 10 minutes to write (partially because i knew the longer i was there, the longer they had to wait around (they closed at 5)). i watched as the mexi postal service´s chief intelligence officer perused my written request and smiled as he savored my description of the handling of events.
he then told me some bullshit about the how they were going to seriously look into the matter and get something done. as i had already copied down alberto´s home address and full name, i nodded and wished him luck in finding the package. i was assured that it would be found and delivered to me with all the haste within the power of the postal service (my friend sent me a letter when she was in chihuahua- this is part of mexico- 5 weeks ago and i have still not received it).
my anger had mostly subsided but disappointment grew in its stead. apparently, someone from my school had gone to the postal service after the third notice to get my package and deliver it to me. why had alberto waited three days without informing me? was alberto even an employee? was that even his name (i mentioned, i believe, my trip to where fake id´s are made, and the amazing authenticity they seem to possess)? where was the package? would someone else be ankle deep in russel stover coconut nest packages with traces of chocoloate on their cheeks and the stray jelly bean rolling around on the floor waiting for a cat, dog or rat to find it?
in the end, my package was delivered to me today, but not by alberto. i inquired about him through the school´s search page and indeed he is a worker in the package office. when i went to find him he was out tracking down the package of someone else. my package was on its way to my building to be delivered to me.
did the m.p.s. do as promised and come to the school to help find my package? was this why it was actually delivered to me this afternoon? one of the many things i have learned is simply not to question such occurrances. i have my package, unopened it appears and full of all my sister told me about. does anything else really matter? of course it does. but does anyone here care about my own misgivings? of course not.
hence, as i enjoy the chocolately goodness of a coconut nest, i think of alberto flores, wherever he is, and hope he rescues another package before the owner can get there to claim it. spread the joy to all, i say.
first, let´s go back 46 hours. the office secretary came by and gave me a slip of paper. she did so casually, as though there were nothing special about it, and sauntered off to do whatever it is she does. noticing that in my hands was a note from the postal service of mexico, i was pleased because the package my sister amy sent had arrived. finally. then i noticed the date, june 18 (this was june 26th), and that the slip said ¨second notice.¨
i had left for the states on june 18th, so if this was the second notice, the first should have arrived at least 4 days earlier. june 14 saw me at school, teaching, normal routine. where was notice the first?
unable to make it to the post office before it closed (did i mention i was offered a full-time position at my school on this same afternoon?), i put off the trip for the next day. one day. big deal.
my friend gave me a ride to the post office and i arrived 15minutes before closing time. when i left 40 minutes later, i was, to say the least, nonplussed.
as i handed the woman behind the counter my slip, she asked me for my id. she wrote my passport number down on the paper i gave her and shuffled off to find my package.
do you ever think you know when there is going to be a problem? you order food, without onions would be a great example because onions are evil, and yet you know when it arrives that the food will have onions. people might call you paranoid, negative, a pain in the ass, whatever, but you know you are right. and then, when the food arrives, fucked up, you look to the other person to confirm that you were right. but, being right, does not make you happy. if anything, it pisses you off even more. naturally, you seek a vent for this frustration. profanity? depends on the scene. surly attitude toward any and all ¨help¨? definitely.
thus, as the older lady returned and informed more than asked that i had already received the package, i looked to my friend, who, alas, stayed in the car, and then paused before responding.
¨no¨
sometimes it is very pleasing that english and spanish coincide so. it was perhaps, i see it now, my pause that made her hesitate. she opened a red book with lots of lines, pages, signatures, and other scribblings of, probably, the five year olds who run el servicio postal mexicano.
¨look again¨ i said as curtly as possible. she complied and, if it were possible, crawled into the back room. clearly, i was ready to jump the counter, damn the sign informing that the area was for authorized personnel only. i refrained as the man with the uzi, i shit you not he carried an uzi, outside the door somehow calmed me.
i was then informed that my package had indeed been picked up already. i told her as cooly as possibly that my twin did not live in this country and either way, we spelled our first names differently. this confused her just long enough to prove to me she was at least listening.
five minutes later she returned from the overseer´s office (i think he is probably like 7yrs old) and motioned me to enter.
was this a trap? would the uzi man gun me down as i crossed the line into another world, a realm without reason where packages are distributed willnilly on a first come first served basis? no. it was not.
amazingly, i think the overseer was inclined to think that showing me a photocopy of identification of the person who retrieved a package clearly addressed to william davis would assuage my growing hostility. hmm. alberto flores zamora. well, we both have two ¨l´s¨ in our names at some point. looking into the eyes of the head of such an organized and professional outfit, i saw the one thing i knew i could never fight against and win.
indeed, what i saw in his eyes is not something you easily forget, nor is it easily feigned (although i certainly do not rule out he feels this way, or acts like it, daily). i restated the obvious to him hoping his look would change.
¨so you are telling me the mexican postal service gave a package addressed to william davis to alberto flores? what, then, is the purpose of showing you an id? can i have someone else´s package? i will show you my id first.¨
no, sarcasm went right past this one, as i feared it would, because he was, sadly, simple. in his eyes i saw that he did not really understand. he believed in what he had done. to him, he acted like loyal employee and faithful worker. on the package were the words ¨itesm¨. this is where i work. alberto flores told him he worked for itesm. ergo, the package went to the correct person.
flabbergasted and rather deflated, i accepted the situation as it was (you cannot browbeat a child who does not understand what it did was wrong any more than you should whip a horse for wanting the apple in your hand). what, praytell, did the mexi postal servce intend to do? well, first i needed to write explaining i wanted the matter looked into by them.
right.
did i have a pen on me, inquired the cretin. no (of course i did, but i was going to take his and keep it).
sitting at the desk, so kind that he offered me a seat, i thought of how i wanted to word the letter. oh, he told me what i needed to write, but i brushed aside his advice in favor of something more, how shall i put it, more strongly worded.
did i know that this letter would never leave that office? that no matter what i asked for i would not receive? that the mexi postal service ¨team¨ no more interest in me than i have in embroidery? yes. did i feel the need to release some hostility? indeed (a huevo- this is rather vulgar so i dont suggest repeating it the next time your spanish speaking server asks you if you would like another beverage, more salsa or the check).
¨i, william davis, arrived at the mexican postal service on (address) today at 1645 hours to retrieve a package. unfortunately, the workers of the m.p.s. had decided to give my package to alberto flores zamora of (address) without my consent or knowledge. acting for more me is not something i ever wanted the mps, or (and here i wrote the names of the kind staff who had assisted me so far) to do, nor would i ever like them to do so in the future.
negligence (i asked the overseer how to spell this word, to which he looked quite surprised and somewhat taken aback before slowly spelling it for me) by the staff of the m.p.s. is clear in this case; therefore, i request that said staff look for and find alberto flores zamora. then, i want my package delivered, preferably intact, by whom is not important, to me at (school address).
sincerely,
william davis
so ya, that took me about 10 minutes to write (partially because i knew the longer i was there, the longer they had to wait around (they closed at 5)). i watched as the mexi postal service´s chief intelligence officer perused my written request and smiled as he savored my description of the handling of events.
he then told me some bullshit about the how they were going to seriously look into the matter and get something done. as i had already copied down alberto´s home address and full name, i nodded and wished him luck in finding the package. i was assured that it would be found and delivered to me with all the haste within the power of the postal service (my friend sent me a letter when she was in chihuahua- this is part of mexico- 5 weeks ago and i have still not received it).
my anger had mostly subsided but disappointment grew in its stead. apparently, someone from my school had gone to the postal service after the third notice to get my package and deliver it to me. why had alberto waited three days without informing me? was alberto even an employee? was that even his name (i mentioned, i believe, my trip to where fake id´s are made, and the amazing authenticity they seem to possess)? where was the package? would someone else be ankle deep in russel stover coconut nest packages with traces of chocoloate on their cheeks and the stray jelly bean rolling around on the floor waiting for a cat, dog or rat to find it?
in the end, my package was delivered to me today, but not by alberto. i inquired about him through the school´s search page and indeed he is a worker in the package office. when i went to find him he was out tracking down the package of someone else. my package was on its way to my building to be delivered to me.
did the m.p.s. do as promised and come to the school to help find my package? was this why it was actually delivered to me this afternoon? one of the many things i have learned is simply not to question such occurrances. i have my package, unopened it appears and full of all my sister told me about. does anything else really matter? of course it does. but does anyone here care about my own misgivings? of course not.
hence, as i enjoy the chocolately goodness of a coconut nest, i think of alberto flores, wherever he is, and hope he rescues another package before the owner can get there to claim it. spread the joy to all, i say.
21 June 2007
hey guys sorry for not writing sooner. the computers here wont let me log in very easily. i am staying on campus in a dorm with a roomie, who is cool, and am learning a lot. i will try to call you again soon dad, sorry we missed each other sunday. i think you were out or asleep when i called the last time.
all is well and if not sooner, i will write next monday and let you know about all the fun i had. i feel like i am 15 and at summer camp. but this is actually a lot of fun and very educational at the same time.
hope you are all well.
all is well and if not sooner, i will write next monday and let you know about all the fun i had. i feel like i am 15 and at summer camp. but this is actually a lot of fun and very educational at the same time.
hope you are all well.
15 June 2007
happy father´s day doughman! hope you are well and enjoying the summer in virginia.
to all you other father´s, i am looking at you jimza, happy day.
father´s day is fairly important down here, but it does not compare to mother´s day. for example, father´s day is sunday here every year. mother´s day, on the hand, is during the week, usually, and all mother´s who work get the day off. odd, no?
anyway, i leave for the good ole usa on monday morning. after a two year absence, i will be back in the us(sr) for about 5 days. going to las vegas! new mexico. ya, doesn´t quite have the same ring to it all. it is a tiny little town in the mountains of new mexico east of albequerque and santa fe. there is some tiny private university and i will be staying on campus, in a dorm, for the duration of my stay. i am going to talk about literature and teaching and the fun that is the international bac. program. should be pretty cool actually because i can make a lesson plan for an entire year during one week. of course, that is assuming i stay teaching where i am next semester.
as usual, my plans are up in the air a bit. i am not 100% sure where i will be in a few months, which is somewhat disheartening as i was hoping to stay at this school where i am. unfortunately, it looks as though there will be no full time positions for the coming year, and that means i make less money for doing about the same work. boo.
i dont know. i might suck it up and stay anyway. i certainly did not come to mexico only to make money. i am teaching literature classes i might never have a chance to teach in the usa (science fiction/future fiction for example), so there are many benefits to staying. i think i am just miffed that i thought there was going to be an opening and now there is not. oh well. suck it up.
enjoy the father´s day weekend and i will write from new mexico if i can (not sure if ¨talent night¨, i shit you not there is a talent night on the final night, will take up most of free time as i prepare my routine. it sounds like summer camp, westview on the james i hope it is not. could be worse i guess. i get to miss a full 5 days of class. that is cool).
anything interesting going on up there?
to all you other father´s, i am looking at you jimza, happy day.
father´s day is fairly important down here, but it does not compare to mother´s day. for example, father´s day is sunday here every year. mother´s day, on the hand, is during the week, usually, and all mother´s who work get the day off. odd, no?
anyway, i leave for the good ole usa on monday morning. after a two year absence, i will be back in the us(sr) for about 5 days. going to las vegas! new mexico. ya, doesn´t quite have the same ring to it all. it is a tiny little town in the mountains of new mexico east of albequerque and santa fe. there is some tiny private university and i will be staying on campus, in a dorm, for the duration of my stay. i am going to talk about literature and teaching and the fun that is the international bac. program. should be pretty cool actually because i can make a lesson plan for an entire year during one week. of course, that is assuming i stay teaching where i am next semester.
as usual, my plans are up in the air a bit. i am not 100% sure where i will be in a few months, which is somewhat disheartening as i was hoping to stay at this school where i am. unfortunately, it looks as though there will be no full time positions for the coming year, and that means i make less money for doing about the same work. boo.
i dont know. i might suck it up and stay anyway. i certainly did not come to mexico only to make money. i am teaching literature classes i might never have a chance to teach in the usa (science fiction/future fiction for example), so there are many benefits to staying. i think i am just miffed that i thought there was going to be an opening and now there is not. oh well. suck it up.
enjoy the father´s day weekend and i will write from new mexico if i can (not sure if ¨talent night¨, i shit you not there is a talent night on the final night, will take up most of free time as i prepare my routine. it sounds like summer camp, westview on the james i hope it is not. could be worse i guess. i get to miss a full 5 days of class. that is cool).
anything interesting going on up there?
30 May 2007
time flies. hard to believe it has been over a month since i wrote here last.
funny stories, let me think. the problem is that there are many many events i find hilarious, but they have to be pg13 for this blog. if you thought i talked a lot before i left (and i know you all think this), be prepared to listen to stories for days when i return.
so i was at the supermarket yesterday (wal-mart essentially) and was in line with my groceries (raisin bran, juice, milk, habañero peppers, turkey, cheese, apples, avacado- it was a light day because i have been sick and am just getting my taste back). there is a promotion at this store that when you spend 100 pesos (10 bucks) you get a coupon that discounts a future purchase. this month the promotion is towells. ya. not into that.
anyway, a woman and her daugter are in front of me (both wearing large, obnoxious chanel sunglasses that cover their entire faces) and the mother looks me up and down (this is still normal- not only am i dead sexy, but foreign) and then makes her move.
¨do you collect the coupons?¨ she asks.
her daughter´s face goes red and ¨maamaaaaa¨ escapes her lips as she flips through soap opera digest (all names are changed to reflect what you would see in the states) and attempts to put some distance between herself and her mother.
¨why do you always get so embarassed, it is an honest question, and besides, he doesn´t mind. do you, sir?¨ is mamá ´s reply to daughter.
¨of course i do not mind you asking, and sure, the coupons are yours¨
the mother continues conversation with me, explaining her daughter, standing there the whole time, is always shy and embarassed in public when with her. but she, the mother, never understands why. the look on daughter´s face through all of this is priceless- she turns from red to crimson rather quickly and once the line in front dissipates, makes a b-line to the ice cream stand 25 yards away.
just before i pay, she turns to ask me if i am from the states. i smile and respond that yes i am. she says she has always liked gringos, even though so many think negatively of us. very magnanimous of her.
as my items go through, scrutinized by the mother of course, she remarks to the clerk that i should get ¨double points¨ for certain items(clearly she picked me out because she had scanned my basket and knew i would get more coupons based on what i was buying). a brief argument ensues while the clerk says i need to use a certain bank card to get double points. the mother then looks at me, my card (not the one that earns double points) and asks me if i have another.
no shit. she actually tried to get me to pay with another card to get her an extra coupon. well, after that, i expected something more (i paid with my original choice despite the pain it caused her to only earn one coupon instead of two).
she waited for me to collect my bags and noticed, she was on it, that i did not get my parking stub validated. was my car at home? after informing her i did not have a car in mexico (she was rather deflated), she offered me a ride. her daughter, who had returned, was about to explode. and i could tell she wanted me to say no.
so, of course, i accepted the ride.
unfortunately, the daughter was rather young, although mother tried to push her off on me in the car ride, so there will be no dates in the future. i assured her my future coupons were hers and offered my services of private lessons, which may or may not work out.
in the end, an eventful shopping experience. sometimes being foreign is lots of fun. i do not tell the worst stories, the ones where being foreign sucks, for obvious reasons.
i have almost cleared my second sickness in one month (my first was a stomach virus and i ended up halucinating at one point during the fever´s high point, the second was a cold) and hope this fills my quota for at least 4 more months. the stomach illness was vile, so i wont go into details, but it is worth noting that i get sick from eating at restaurants with running water and not stands on the street (i often eat at those places and am fine after). not sure what lesson i should learn from this.
i am excited about my class this summer. i am teaching a science fiction literature class. plus, there are only five students and they are all guys. if i never mentioned this before i must say that teaching only boys is the best situation. true, they can be assholes and little shits, but so can i. in the end, i know what to expect from guys. girls? crying? no way. boys are predictable. i know what they expect and their tricks to get what they want. would i teach at an all boys school? hell yes. teach at an all-girls school? no and never.
anyway, the class should be cool, even though it is two hours long, five days a week. i hope we have interesting conversations (today´s was great- we discussed acceptance, beauty standards ad how they have changed, plastic surgery, etc- we are reading ¨frankenstein¨ so it is all relevant. talking about these things with just guys is very relaxing).
i will do more writing this summer (my recent one entry a month is not exactly a high standard). hope all is well up there and you are having a good start to your summer. the weather here is perfect. 80´s during the day and high 50´s at night with consistent afternoon storms and showers. ok, if you wanted weather, you could check that yourselves.
i am sad to see duke lacrosse lost in the finals on monday. i never liked john´s hopkins. but, i am glad the guys are getting back to normal (to a very small extent) after all that they have gone through in the last year. i hope events like that dont happen more frequently now.
now that the suns and red wings have lost, again, i am done with both the nba and hockey. damn if the braves didnt start well only to choke over the last week. oh well.
in other news i combed my hair for the first time in two years today. strange. i have not had a haircut since december and my hair is finally getting long (relative) again. no camera so the pictures will come when they do, but i thought i would add that. two years. pretty amazing how short hair eliminates the need for hair grooming. or i am just a slob (probably the latter).
let me know if there is anything specific you want to hear about (new abortion law that has the pope seriously pissed off with mexico, teachers not teaching-strikes, etc.).
take it easy y´all
funny stories, let me think. the problem is that there are many many events i find hilarious, but they have to be pg13 for this blog. if you thought i talked a lot before i left (and i know you all think this), be prepared to listen to stories for days when i return.
so i was at the supermarket yesterday (wal-mart essentially) and was in line with my groceries (raisin bran, juice, milk, habañero peppers, turkey, cheese, apples, avacado- it was a light day because i have been sick and am just getting my taste back). there is a promotion at this store that when you spend 100 pesos (10 bucks) you get a coupon that discounts a future purchase. this month the promotion is towells. ya. not into that.
anyway, a woman and her daugter are in front of me (both wearing large, obnoxious chanel sunglasses that cover their entire faces) and the mother looks me up and down (this is still normal- not only am i dead sexy, but foreign) and then makes her move.
¨do you collect the coupons?¨ she asks.
her daughter´s face goes red and ¨maamaaaaa¨ escapes her lips as she flips through soap opera digest (all names are changed to reflect what you would see in the states) and attempts to put some distance between herself and her mother.
¨why do you always get so embarassed, it is an honest question, and besides, he doesn´t mind. do you, sir?¨ is mamá ´s reply to daughter.
¨of course i do not mind you asking, and sure, the coupons are yours¨
the mother continues conversation with me, explaining her daughter, standing there the whole time, is always shy and embarassed in public when with her. but she, the mother, never understands why. the look on daughter´s face through all of this is priceless- she turns from red to crimson rather quickly and once the line in front dissipates, makes a b-line to the ice cream stand 25 yards away.
just before i pay, she turns to ask me if i am from the states. i smile and respond that yes i am. she says she has always liked gringos, even though so many think negatively of us. very magnanimous of her.
as my items go through, scrutinized by the mother of course, she remarks to the clerk that i should get ¨double points¨ for certain items(clearly she picked me out because she had scanned my basket and knew i would get more coupons based on what i was buying). a brief argument ensues while the clerk says i need to use a certain bank card to get double points. the mother then looks at me, my card (not the one that earns double points) and asks me if i have another.
no shit. she actually tried to get me to pay with another card to get her an extra coupon. well, after that, i expected something more (i paid with my original choice despite the pain it caused her to only earn one coupon instead of two).
she waited for me to collect my bags and noticed, she was on it, that i did not get my parking stub validated. was my car at home? after informing her i did not have a car in mexico (she was rather deflated), she offered me a ride. her daughter, who had returned, was about to explode. and i could tell she wanted me to say no.
so, of course, i accepted the ride.
unfortunately, the daughter was rather young, although mother tried to push her off on me in the car ride, so there will be no dates in the future. i assured her my future coupons were hers and offered my services of private lessons, which may or may not work out.
in the end, an eventful shopping experience. sometimes being foreign is lots of fun. i do not tell the worst stories, the ones where being foreign sucks, for obvious reasons.
i have almost cleared my second sickness in one month (my first was a stomach virus and i ended up halucinating at one point during the fever´s high point, the second was a cold) and hope this fills my quota for at least 4 more months. the stomach illness was vile, so i wont go into details, but it is worth noting that i get sick from eating at restaurants with running water and not stands on the street (i often eat at those places and am fine after). not sure what lesson i should learn from this.
i am excited about my class this summer. i am teaching a science fiction literature class. plus, there are only five students and they are all guys. if i never mentioned this before i must say that teaching only boys is the best situation. true, they can be assholes and little shits, but so can i. in the end, i know what to expect from guys. girls? crying? no way. boys are predictable. i know what they expect and their tricks to get what they want. would i teach at an all boys school? hell yes. teach at an all-girls school? no and never.
anyway, the class should be cool, even though it is two hours long, five days a week. i hope we have interesting conversations (today´s was great- we discussed acceptance, beauty standards ad how they have changed, plastic surgery, etc- we are reading ¨frankenstein¨ so it is all relevant. talking about these things with just guys is very relaxing).
i will do more writing this summer (my recent one entry a month is not exactly a high standard). hope all is well up there and you are having a good start to your summer. the weather here is perfect. 80´s during the day and high 50´s at night with consistent afternoon storms and showers. ok, if you wanted weather, you could check that yourselves.
i am sad to see duke lacrosse lost in the finals on monday. i never liked john´s hopkins. but, i am glad the guys are getting back to normal (to a very small extent) after all that they have gone through in the last year. i hope events like that dont happen more frequently now.
now that the suns and red wings have lost, again, i am done with both the nba and hockey. damn if the braves didnt start well only to choke over the last week. oh well.
in other news i combed my hair for the first time in two years today. strange. i have not had a haircut since december and my hair is finally getting long (relative) again. no camera so the pictures will come when they do, but i thought i would add that. two years. pretty amazing how short hair eliminates the need for hair grooming. or i am just a slob (probably the latter).
let me know if there is anything specific you want to hear about (new abortion law that has the pope seriously pissed off with mexico, teachers not teaching-strikes, etc.).
take it easy y´all
17 April 2007
walking to school every morning i pass a taxi stand (this is about the length of one block-just one curb- and at the corner is a little shack where the dispatch, normally a kid, sits and watches a big tv), and every morning i see some strange movie, normally dubbed or subtitled from english. at 6am or so, the tv i see is usually the last thing on my mind, but i always glance at it as i walk on past.
today, as i was coming to school, i saw something i thought i would never see on mexican news. blacksburg, va. virginia tech. massacre.
almost all of my students today asked me where i was from again. had i ever heard of a uni in virginia called virginia tech?
the questions that people often ask, regarding the usa and its proclivity toward violence, begin again. this time, however, i do not feel so separated from the questions; i do not have the same sort of detached perspective i usually do when i answer them. i saw some pictures of the campus today, mainly of police and wounded students. i have not seen the campus in about 4 years, and it was sad to see it the way that i did. i hope that if anyone reading this knew someone on campus that day that they are ok. i guess there is not much else to say.
today, as i was coming to school, i saw something i thought i would never see on mexican news. blacksburg, va. virginia tech. massacre.
almost all of my students today asked me where i was from again. had i ever heard of a uni in virginia called virginia tech?
the questions that people often ask, regarding the usa and its proclivity toward violence, begin again. this time, however, i do not feel so separated from the questions; i do not have the same sort of detached perspective i usually do when i answer them. i saw some pictures of the campus today, mainly of police and wounded students. i have not seen the campus in about 4 years, and it was sad to see it the way that i did. i hope that if anyone reading this knew someone on campus that day that they are ok. i guess there is not much else to say.
16 April 2007
Drawing to a close, this semester will be one that at the very least leaves an aftertaste. Not that I dislike getting up and being at work before the sun rises. Nor that I decry going to work six days a week. Even the fact that I regularly spend 12-16 hours on campus is not enough to really get me in a pissy mood (although many would argue that I am often in this kind of mood, or at least that I am an irritable person - enojon is the word used here, and as you might have guessed, it is stronger than the English near-equivalents I have listed). I have made a promise to myself this semester not to bitch about things that I cannot change. Clearly, I have failed to accomplish this completely, but like all ideas in this vein, thinking about it has been helpful (at the very least I like to tell myself this).
Either way, there are just over two weeks remaining until exams. Amazing how fast it has gone (which is probably a testament to the idea that staying busy makes time seem to pass more quickly). But, it is sad that I have not done much traveling this semester (none, really). On the bright side I have gotten to know the city much better and visited many places and areas that I have never seen before. A friend who I met about two months ago and said my Spanish has improved a lot (I saw her for again on Saturday after not seeing her since February). Unfortunately, I had to stop taking my Spanish class because this semester because there was no time. On the bright side I have been seeing a girl here, so I practice my Spanish with her a lot. Give and take. My writing in Spanish is still quite horrible, syntax, etc. (you could also argue my English is not perfect either), but my conversational abilities have improved greatly. Mainly, it is the same problem I have felt since I arrived: reading books in Spanish is awesome, but no one talks like authors write, so in a sense it is not productive.
I read a quote from mark twain the other day I found very funny. The gist of the quote is: every time you want to write the word ¨very¨, write the word ¨damn¨. That way, when you go back and edit, you will simply remove the word.
Spring is here in the city. But it is much like a flagstaff, az, summer in that the nights are still chilly- this makes me happy because I like to sleep in colder weather rather than the heat. The campus is beautiful: green trees, manicured bushes, walks, flowers, everything. There is a small army of grounds crew here that begin at the crack of dawn and go until near midnight. They are here when I arrive at 6am. Weed eating, leaf blowing, watering, grooming in general. Unnecessary? Of course. But it looks amazing. There are lots of benches and areas to sit in the shade (8400 feet up, the sun is still intense) and the whole campus is wireless internet (along with power outlets everywhere), so you can do work wherever. I must admit this is an island in the middle of a sprawling concrete cacophony. And I definitely appreciate how peaceful and safe it is compared to other parts of the city. Living within walking distance means I don’t have to ride transit during the week, so I feel quite isolated at times. But, it is like having a pool in your backyard: you just have to go out and jump in when you feel tired of the everyday.
Ok, I never had a pool in the backyard.
The earthquake here last week never even woke me up. Everyone in my building, except my coworker and fellow compatriot, went into the courtyard (this is merely a fancy name for a grassy area between my building and the landlady´s house) at 2am. Good Mexicans. In 1986 there was a huge quake in the city that killed thousands of people, so since then, the people have learned their lesson. Of course, they forgot to wake us up, but no matter.
All of my students were shocked that I did not wake up for the quake. I told them I lived in Oaxaca for a year and there are quakes all the time there, so I was somewhat used to them. Ya, I am so cool. I know.
While in my class I checked my email and saw a headline on msn about Blacksburg. My first reaction was happy; I thought tech had done something good for a change. As you well know, the news was not good as I had hoped. I am not sure what to write about it; I think perhaps it is better to say nothing right now. On that note, I think I will go.
Either way, there are just over two weeks remaining until exams. Amazing how fast it has gone (which is probably a testament to the idea that staying busy makes time seem to pass more quickly). But, it is sad that I have not done much traveling this semester (none, really). On the bright side I have gotten to know the city much better and visited many places and areas that I have never seen before. A friend who I met about two months ago and said my Spanish has improved a lot (I saw her for again on Saturday after not seeing her since February). Unfortunately, I had to stop taking my Spanish class because this semester because there was no time. On the bright side I have been seeing a girl here, so I practice my Spanish with her a lot. Give and take. My writing in Spanish is still quite horrible, syntax, etc. (you could also argue my English is not perfect either), but my conversational abilities have improved greatly. Mainly, it is the same problem I have felt since I arrived: reading books in Spanish is awesome, but no one talks like authors write, so in a sense it is not productive.
I read a quote from mark twain the other day I found very funny. The gist of the quote is: every time you want to write the word ¨very¨, write the word ¨damn¨. That way, when you go back and edit, you will simply remove the word.
Spring is here in the city. But it is much like a flagstaff, az, summer in that the nights are still chilly- this makes me happy because I like to sleep in colder weather rather than the heat. The campus is beautiful: green trees, manicured bushes, walks, flowers, everything. There is a small army of grounds crew here that begin at the crack of dawn and go until near midnight. They are here when I arrive at 6am. Weed eating, leaf blowing, watering, grooming in general. Unnecessary? Of course. But it looks amazing. There are lots of benches and areas to sit in the shade (8400 feet up, the sun is still intense) and the whole campus is wireless internet (along with power outlets everywhere), so you can do work wherever. I must admit this is an island in the middle of a sprawling concrete cacophony. And I definitely appreciate how peaceful and safe it is compared to other parts of the city. Living within walking distance means I don’t have to ride transit during the week, so I feel quite isolated at times. But, it is like having a pool in your backyard: you just have to go out and jump in when you feel tired of the everyday.
Ok, I never had a pool in the backyard.
The earthquake here last week never even woke me up. Everyone in my building, except my coworker and fellow compatriot, went into the courtyard (this is merely a fancy name for a grassy area between my building and the landlady´s house) at 2am. Good Mexicans. In 1986 there was a huge quake in the city that killed thousands of people, so since then, the people have learned their lesson. Of course, they forgot to wake us up, but no matter.
All of my students were shocked that I did not wake up for the quake. I told them I lived in Oaxaca for a year and there are quakes all the time there, so I was somewhat used to them. Ya, I am so cool. I know.
While in my class I checked my email and saw a headline on msn about Blacksburg. My first reaction was happy; I thought tech had done something good for a change. As you well know, the news was not good as I had hoped. I am not sure what to write about it; I think perhaps it is better to say nothing right now. On that note, I think I will go.
20 March 2007
zoos. i went to the zoo on sunday (this was a 3 day weekend, no work on monday to honor the president Benito Juarez´s- and c´s also- birthday- yahtzee) with a friend. i got a little sunburned, damn evil sun, but not bad. i also saw elephants and lots of monkeys. i really like monkeys and have decided that one day soon i, too, will own a monkey. sure, i could go to the market here, where they sell everything, and buy an illegal one (and yes, this thought has crossed my mind at least 4 times), but i have chosen against it. my friend who is a vet tells me bad stories about how i would be contributing to the brutal monkey trade, horrible treatment on their journey from the jungle, etc. i basically stopped listening when i heard that i would be asked to leave my apt if her mother, my landlord, found out i had a monkey. sure, the other stuff is concerning, but let´s get down to brass tacks- i, will, will not be homeless just to have a monkey. now if a place opens up that allows monkeys, well, that might be another story.
i am toying with the idea of getting a used motorcycle. ít will occupy my time (working on it) but might also kill me. up in the air on that one.
not up in the air on buying socks tonight. laundry was closed yesterday because of the holiday and i have run dangerously low because i was lazy and did not walk the laundry down the street last week. oh well, i will buy a pair socks to tide me over until i can get my clothes back on thursday.
speaking of laundry, yesterday i cleaned my apt (i know, i am also surprised) and as usual, i mopped myself into a corner. luckily, this is a planned corner, also where the door leading out of the apt is found, and i do this when i mop to make myself leave and let the floor dry. so, i have the plastic bag of laundry (big and clear so that everyone can see my dirty underwear- actually it is what i receive my laundry in when they clean it so i just use to stored the next load) outside on the balcony ready to rock and roll as i make the last sweep and i am off.
i realize i am wearing flip flops, a tshirt and shorts. it is hot, high 80´s, so this should not be a problem. well, yes it is. no one wears shorts here. well, almost no one (me). flip flops, for guys, are also out. t-shirts, a former staple of my attire, are also out. yup. i wear a collared shirt, pants and shoes every day of the year here. sundays included. even going to the grocery store i dress up more than i did when i taught college in the usa.
ok, so i make my way down the four blocks to the laudry place where they wash my clothes, avoiding the stares of the 10am holiday crowd loitering in the streets, trying to blend. right.
as i near the laundry, i notice the metal storm door is closed. dammit. i walked all way, embarassing myself as the rest of the mexicans stare at the gringo, for nothing. well, i was sweating and dirty (i had been cleaning a not-so clean apt) and decided that i needed to giddy-up over to the other laundry place. i walked five more blocks only to find them closed.
thus, my walk of shame included me returning with head low (could not look the people in the eye who i had just seen 5 minutes earlier). i had brought no money, or i definitely would have scored a cab and avoided it all, but i did not plan ahead as i was mopping myself into the corner.
wait, zoos! i forgot about that. i learned that elephants in captivity have developed a bad habit of rocking back and forth which essentially involves them producing a chemical that numbs their brain to the outside world. this only happens in captivity. also, zoo keepers (even the name ¨keeper¨ sounds negative- nothing escapes. they might as well just say wardens) cut the wings of the parrots and other beautiful birds so that they can be ¨free¨ from cages yet incapable of ever flying.
this might be the first time i have ever been to a zoo. this was probably the last time. disturbing to say the least.
i also saw a kind of monkey that is strong, and mean, enough to kill people.
i am toying with the idea of getting a used motorcycle. ít will occupy my time (working on it) but might also kill me. up in the air on that one.
not up in the air on buying socks tonight. laundry was closed yesterday because of the holiday and i have run dangerously low because i was lazy and did not walk the laundry down the street last week. oh well, i will buy a pair socks to tide me over until i can get my clothes back on thursday.
speaking of laundry, yesterday i cleaned my apt (i know, i am also surprised) and as usual, i mopped myself into a corner. luckily, this is a planned corner, also where the door leading out of the apt is found, and i do this when i mop to make myself leave and let the floor dry. so, i have the plastic bag of laundry (big and clear so that everyone can see my dirty underwear- actually it is what i receive my laundry in when they clean it so i just use to stored the next load) outside on the balcony ready to rock and roll as i make the last sweep and i am off.
i realize i am wearing flip flops, a tshirt and shorts. it is hot, high 80´s, so this should not be a problem. well, yes it is. no one wears shorts here. well, almost no one (me). flip flops, for guys, are also out. t-shirts, a former staple of my attire, are also out. yup. i wear a collared shirt, pants and shoes every day of the year here. sundays included. even going to the grocery store i dress up more than i did when i taught college in the usa.
ok, so i make my way down the four blocks to the laudry place where they wash my clothes, avoiding the stares of the 10am holiday crowd loitering in the streets, trying to blend. right.
as i near the laundry, i notice the metal storm door is closed. dammit. i walked all way, embarassing myself as the rest of the mexicans stare at the gringo, for nothing. well, i was sweating and dirty (i had been cleaning a not-so clean apt) and decided that i needed to giddy-up over to the other laundry place. i walked five more blocks only to find them closed.
thus, my walk of shame included me returning with head low (could not look the people in the eye who i had just seen 5 minutes earlier). i had brought no money, or i definitely would have scored a cab and avoided it all, but i did not plan ahead as i was mopping myself into the corner.
wait, zoos! i forgot about that. i learned that elephants in captivity have developed a bad habit of rocking back and forth which essentially involves them producing a chemical that numbs their brain to the outside world. this only happens in captivity. also, zoo keepers (even the name ¨keeper¨ sounds negative- nothing escapes. they might as well just say wardens) cut the wings of the parrots and other beautiful birds so that they can be ¨free¨ from cages yet incapable of ever flying.
this might be the first time i have ever been to a zoo. this was probably the last time. disturbing to say the least.
i also saw a kind of monkey that is strong, and mean, enough to kill people.
13 March 2007
in an effort to improve my spanish (spice up my life), i have been watching an awesome telenovela (soap opera) called destilando amor. distilling love. it revolves around a tequila producing family and one particularly sumptuous sass-machine by the name of gaviota. or mariana, as she has recently had her name changed to fit with the new life/personality she has made up for herself. i liken it to a mexican dallas, with adhd. the novelas here only las about 7 months, and then they expire. they are all this way, which is cool because actors play new characters every year or so. this is also damaging for people who love the shows though (this is pure speculation, i never liked (watched) la fea más bella and anyone who claims this is lying like j.r.).
so if you are asking yourself what the hell i have been doing for the past month, well, here we are. i also shaved the beard. after 3 months it was a sad day. my students freaked out (the kids this semester had never seen me without it- and as there are about 3000 high school kids here, well, you get the point), which was pretty funny. or sad. the girls unanimously proclaimed: you look better. they could not quite understand how in english this means you looked like chewbaca before. meh. i miss it though, especially as it is chilly again here.
i work a lot, which does not really translate to free time for writing the bloggy blog. six days a week at school, often over 12hours a day (not the 6th day) takes its toll after a while. i am thinking of retiring. what? 25 more years? screw that.
as far as mexico goes, things are relatively tranquil. well, i saw on the news some riots in merida where, surprise surprise, one george w. was visiting. i also saw some footage from guatemala that showed how the people showed up by the thousands to welcome w. i am not sure when throwing metal fences at police replaced cheering and waving the stars and stripes, but leave it to the guats to change things up.
3000 pesos later i am clear to live and work in mexico for another year. yippee. it is strange to think that i pay just to be able to live here. damn immigrants. we should all be deported for complaining.
on a side note they opened a new hooters near my house. since my buddy and i have been making our own salsas (past 4 months or so), we have been talking of going to hooters and seeing if their hot wings (they call the hottest ¨muy macho¨) are really hot or if we have progressed beyond them. i think we have not, but my friend thinks we have. as you know i am a gambling man, so 50 centavos (5cents) is on the line here. the only problem, as another friend pointed out, is that the building is essentially made of glass. and located on a busy street corner near a mall and movie theatre where many students hang out. oh well. next time chipper jones comes into town, we are definitely going.
and after writing more about hooters than the general situation in mexico, i leave you. onwards and upwards.
so if you are asking yourself what the hell i have been doing for the past month, well, here we are. i also shaved the beard. after 3 months it was a sad day. my students freaked out (the kids this semester had never seen me without it- and as there are about 3000 high school kids here, well, you get the point), which was pretty funny. or sad. the girls unanimously proclaimed: you look better. they could not quite understand how in english this means you looked like chewbaca before. meh. i miss it though, especially as it is chilly again here.
i work a lot, which does not really translate to free time for writing the bloggy blog. six days a week at school, often over 12hours a day (not the 6th day) takes its toll after a while. i am thinking of retiring. what? 25 more years? screw that.
as far as mexico goes, things are relatively tranquil. well, i saw on the news some riots in merida where, surprise surprise, one george w. was visiting. i also saw some footage from guatemala that showed how the people showed up by the thousands to welcome w. i am not sure when throwing metal fences at police replaced cheering and waving the stars and stripes, but leave it to the guats to change things up.
3000 pesos later i am clear to live and work in mexico for another year. yippee. it is strange to think that i pay just to be able to live here. damn immigrants. we should all be deported for complaining.
on a side note they opened a new hooters near my house. since my buddy and i have been making our own salsas (past 4 months or so), we have been talking of going to hooters and seeing if their hot wings (they call the hottest ¨muy macho¨) are really hot or if we have progressed beyond them. i think we have not, but my friend thinks we have. as you know i am a gambling man, so 50 centavos (5cents) is on the line here. the only problem, as another friend pointed out, is that the building is essentially made of glass. and located on a busy street corner near a mall and movie theatre where many students hang out. oh well. next time chipper jones comes into town, we are definitely going.
and after writing more about hooters than the general situation in mexico, i leave you. onwards and upwards.
14 February 2007
is a virginia jim kind of like a virginia slim? i agree my bearded brother in arms, the true search is for a woman who loves beards. if i may dip from the ¨state¨ stash- ¨well that´s fine for him, but i´m still alone.¨ ¨why don´t you try taking some of your own advice?¨ ok, the last part was definitel more than a stretch, but i felt i needed to finish the cycle.
co-con¨beard¨tadors is rockin. and much like, ¨i´m nice outside¨ will never be too much of a stretch not to make sense. true, it is rather european, but i have always thought that about you ¨virginia¨ jim. euro-jim. how is the married life? canoe on open water? driftin on smooth?
cozumel. beautiful. i have never been there. you should have a killer time. if i buy a jet in the next week i will meet you there and be back home for dinner.
i switched banks yesterday. other than wanting to put a quick and silent to my life 45 minutes into the first transaction, things went smoothly. i am now with a new, better (sure) bank that at the very least is open past 4pm. because you know, 9am-4pm are perfect hours for people who don´t work. and let´s be honest, who with a job would go to a bank? all the time i spent unemployed centered around me hanging at the local bank: nothern arizona credit union, wells fargo in san fran, vt credit union in blacksburg. they were hoppin.
either way, ames, i will be sending you a new card very soon.
co-con¨beard¨tadors is rockin. and much like, ¨i´m nice outside¨ will never be too much of a stretch not to make sense. true, it is rather european, but i have always thought that about you ¨virginia¨ jim. euro-jim. how is the married life? canoe on open water? driftin on smooth?
cozumel. beautiful. i have never been there. you should have a killer time. if i buy a jet in the next week i will meet you there and be back home for dinner.
i switched banks yesterday. other than wanting to put a quick and silent to my life 45 minutes into the first transaction, things went smoothly. i am now with a new, better (sure) bank that at the very least is open past 4pm. because you know, 9am-4pm are perfect hours for people who don´t work. and let´s be honest, who with a job would go to a bank? all the time i spent unemployed centered around me hanging at the local bank: nothern arizona credit union, wells fargo in san fran, vt credit union in blacksburg. they were hoppin.
either way, ames, i will be sending you a new card very soon.
wait wait wait. hokies 81, n carolina 80? va tech swept unc? va tech beat duke? va tech and uva are tied for 3rd in the acc? basketball? another big east team, boston college, is number 1 in the acc?
can it be? the football schools are beating the basketball schools?
happy v-day everybody. my school, being very business-minded, has had booths set up for days selling everything valentine. you can even get married for 20 pesos. you get fake rings, a certificate, photo in black tie, etc. and boys can marry boys, girls can marry girls, hell, you can marry five people at once. polygamy. a little bit o´ utah in mexico. somewhere, mr. smith is smiling.
i might actually do something, buy flowers, for vday this year. maybe i am getting weak in my old age. my students, some of whom are the sellers of balloons, candy, ribbons, hearts of all shapes and sizes, have asked about a love interest. i simply tug on the rather full beard i am sporting and tell them that beards do not attract women. i explain that you do not grow a beard to get a girlfriend. this intrigues some. then, ¨why did you grow a beard william?¨ lazyness is my favorite reply.
the beard is in its final days. after two months it has reached burly and now borders on frightening. in other words, i am stretching the boundaries of professional appearance. again. at least my beard and hair are one color (this is a first) except for the gray in my hair. which, still increases. soon i will be all grey i fear. oh well. then i will dye my hair blue and call it school spirit (our colors are blue and white).
so ya, i will let you know how it goes tonight. considering i go to bed by 1030 and my friend does not return from work until 9, it will be rather short whatever it is. maybe a walk. there are 24hr flower stands everywhere in this town (no joke, 24/7/365), so we may walk down to one and see if she likes any. is this something i should do before i see her? i think my lack of understanding of flowers would preclude me from purchasing them beforehand. advice?
can it be? the football schools are beating the basketball schools?
happy v-day everybody. my school, being very business-minded, has had booths set up for days selling everything valentine. you can even get married for 20 pesos. you get fake rings, a certificate, photo in black tie, etc. and boys can marry boys, girls can marry girls, hell, you can marry five people at once. polygamy. a little bit o´ utah in mexico. somewhere, mr. smith is smiling.
i might actually do something, buy flowers, for vday this year. maybe i am getting weak in my old age. my students, some of whom are the sellers of balloons, candy, ribbons, hearts of all shapes and sizes, have asked about a love interest. i simply tug on the rather full beard i am sporting and tell them that beards do not attract women. i explain that you do not grow a beard to get a girlfriend. this intrigues some. then, ¨why did you grow a beard william?¨ lazyness is my favorite reply.
the beard is in its final days. after two months it has reached burly and now borders on frightening. in other words, i am stretching the boundaries of professional appearance. again. at least my beard and hair are one color (this is a first) except for the gray in my hair. which, still increases. soon i will be all grey i fear. oh well. then i will dye my hair blue and call it school spirit (our colors are blue and white).
so ya, i will let you know how it goes tonight. considering i go to bed by 1030 and my friend does not return from work until 9, it will be rather short whatever it is. maybe a walk. there are 24hr flower stands everywhere in this town (no joke, 24/7/365), so we may walk down to one and see if she likes any. is this something i should do before i see her? i think my lack of understanding of flowers would preclude me from purchasing them beforehand. advice?
12 February 2007
in all its glory, i present to you, la jalisiense. it is a cantina (bars where only men were allowed until about 25 years or so ago) where i have passed a few friday afternoons. my buddy c, far right, white blazer (after labor day?) and seated, is a teacher and writer who has his picture on the wall (just above my head in the photo) along with a blurb about his first published book. but, that is not why we are there. to c´s right (your left), is father m. not a priest. p, another teacher where i work, is next to him. r is next to her and the owner of the cantina(black shirt standing) is flanked by daniel (right) and his son(name escapes me). in front is s, p´s husband. awkwardly leaning to get into a shot i presumed i would not fit into: billy. this was back in november, pre-beard days (which is rather burly right now and will be shorn soon), and during my friend´s dad´s visit. the place is great- guns on the wall (supposedly one was used to kill santa ana, and despite the rust and general decrepitude of the piece, i doubt it.), pictures of mexican and central american military men, famous people from latin america and now my friend c. white dude from houston. natually. we tip well= they love us there.i just finished my own version of hell week. two 16 hour days at work in a row. sweet. well, i have been here for 12 hours today, but, it does not seem so bad. not sure why. i am surviving.
going to more museums on the weekends than i was in the fall, so that is a good thing. one thing mexico city does well is museums. hundreds, probably thousands of them. on everything. i went to the children´s museum a few weeks ago. ya, it was awesome. i was a little big for the playland, but i got to do handicrafts, painted and made a star out of paper i actually recylced myself (i also had fun acting like a child- my friend and i painted each other´s arms when the kindergarten teacher was distracted- who was throwing that paper?). my friend and i had a great time there. we also went to a planetarium a few weeks ago, and the palace of fine arts and monument to the revolution before that as well as four or five others in the past month or two.
well, i am out of here. hope you all have good week.
27 January 2007
one of the pictures was from the bullfights, the other was from the roof of my house when we grilled a few weeks ago. i won´t tell you which is which in the hopes that you mistake my roof top to look like the inside of a colliseum and the inside of the plaza del méxico to look like, well, a ratty rooftop.
i am giving a toefl exam this morning to 75 kids who want to go to the school where i teach. they are all eager, snooty, better dressed than me (this takes very little effort actually consdering my rotation of shirts that i wear to work is an astounding 7. i know. i took mcmahon´s advice and decided to really reach for the stars).
i am giving a toefl exam this morning to 75 kids who want to go to the school where i teach. they are all eager, snooty, better dressed than me (this takes very little effort actually consdering my rotation of shirts that i wear to work is an astounding 7. i know. i took mcmahon´s advice and decided to really reach for the stars).
24 January 2007
23 January 2007
i guess it has been a spell since i wrote. lots going on here, but mainly work. a 5am wake-up call, daily, has been strange but i am adjusting. there are definitely some positives to it, but of course it is not the easiest. especially considering i used to work at 130pm when i lived in san fran. but that was years ago.
five weeks in and the beard is rockin. the cool weather, no longer cold really, makes it nice at night, but the warm sunny days make me want to shave. i will try to post a pic at some point. i think this is the sixth winter in a row that i have grown a beard. not shaving is absolute heaven. i recommend all the boys try it at least once.
classes are great. i teach part of a lit. class at the university here, and although it started out strange, it has become better the last few weeks. the schedule itself is ruthless on mondays, i teach 7 classes, and wednesday and friday (i teach 6), but tues thurs is not too bad. good kids mostly. i cannot complain.
hope you are all well up there. know that i am well, albeit a little tired some days, and enjoying myself. my buddy watt wanapha came down to visit the other weekend and we had a grand time. two visitors in one month after a year hiatus. damn. either way, it was good to see him (we went to tech together and both studied philosophy)after a five year break and to talk with him. he is a great kid and kicking ass in ny as an attorney.
hasta luego cuates
five weeks in and the beard is rockin. the cool weather, no longer cold really, makes it nice at night, but the warm sunny days make me want to shave. i will try to post a pic at some point. i think this is the sixth winter in a row that i have grown a beard. not shaving is absolute heaven. i recommend all the boys try it at least once.
classes are great. i teach part of a lit. class at the university here, and although it started out strange, it has become better the last few weeks. the schedule itself is ruthless on mondays, i teach 7 classes, and wednesday and friday (i teach 6), but tues thurs is not too bad. good kids mostly. i cannot complain.
hope you are all well up there. know that i am well, albeit a little tired some days, and enjoying myself. my buddy watt wanapha came down to visit the other weekend and we had a grand time. two visitors in one month after a year hiatus. damn. either way, it was good to see him (we went to tech together and both studied philosophy)after a five year break and to talk with him. he is a great kid and kicking ass in ny as an attorney.
hasta luego cuates
08 January 2007
so. very. tired.
i arrived this morning around 630ish, meaning i woke up before 6am and arrived when it was still quite dark. so ya, i did take the extra classes. i now teach 7 classes. 5 hours in a row, from 730am to 1230pm. then i get one hour off and go back and teach again from 1330 to 1430. then two hours off and another 40 minutes teaching a university class for my friend. wow. i am worn out. i will definitely make more money this semester, but damn, i am going to work my butt off. oh well, tuesday is a lot better.
i arrived this morning around 630ish, meaning i woke up before 6am and arrived when it was still quite dark. so ya, i did take the extra classes. i now teach 7 classes. 5 hours in a row, from 730am to 1230pm. then i get one hour off and go back and teach again from 1330 to 1430. then two hours off and another 40 minutes teaching a university class for my friend. wow. i am worn out. i will definitely make more money this semester, but damn, i am going to work my butt off. oh well, tuesday is a lot better.
Isn’t it ridiculous that I make decisions based on monetary considerations? If I choose the logic that says take the highest offer, work for more, refuse a piddling amount, why I am here? See you in Saudi Arabia.
What does it mean when I, others, say that I, we, no longer speak the same language? A paradigm shift is a bullshit, 21st century phrase that only signifies if you understand your present paradigm. If not, wander along and leave the thinking to the media which tells you what to eat, wear, say, watch, read, study, love, hate, forget. Remember.
Can you really change in 18 months? What is it that you changed? Did you change it, or did it change you? What does ¨it¨ mean? These are the ramblings of one looking for an answer using a system of signs that, although they permit, do not promote, introspection.
There is a story that Socrates (or Plato, depending on whether or not you even believe Socrates existed) related in one of his early teachings. When writing was first created, the god who created it took the idea to the wisest person he knew. This person, a king, offered numerous objections, rather criticisms. He said that writing would make people forget. If you don’t have to memorize anything, i.e. you can write it down, then what will you remember? Also, the king said it would make fools feel they had knowledge. Anyone can go to a teacher and listen, take notes, then repeat the words written on the page. This, in no sense, signifies understanding, knowledge.
As you might imagine, the god was none too pleased with this reply. He had created the first artificial technology, writing, and wanted what any inventor, and god for that matter, does: praise. Not receiving the appreciation he felt he deserved must have been quite a blow. But, he was a god, and in general, life is pretty good for the gods. Eternal life, wild and outrageous powers, good times.
My argument lacks both novelty and entertainment value. Those two definitely work against me as the old and boring are often brushed aside in favor of something shiny, shimmering, still in the plastic. Retire meant community.
Walking around this city you see the influence of us(a). actually, you must work not to see it, and then, really, you are simply lying to yourself. Progress. Such an innocent word on its surface, especially as a verb, yet the problems arise when you make it a noun. As in, ¨gazing out from her 25th floor apartment balcony, the steel, glass and general progress the city had made were blinding.¨ she cannot see anymore. Probably does not want to, truly. Can you explain to someone without vision what a skyscraper looks like? Can you impart the sound of a jackhammer to someone without hearing? These are artificial creations, to be sure, but substituting these for natural examples makes no real difference. Language, then, fails. The break down occurs, and you either move on to something else and forget, or, repeatedly knock your head against a wall. Which is better? The result is roughly the same.
Is progress really a gift? Everything I see here tells me it is. The people are often eager to remind me of wonderful advances the city/country has made in the last 15 years. I am typing on a laptop by the way. My hypocrisy knows no bounds.
So maybe this lack of understanding is simply a feeling. Poets, authors, bryan adams and the bee.gee´s have been trying to educate us on the finer points of feelings for a long time, yet I think we still have not come to understand them very well. If we did, would we still need these people or simple rewind the tape and listen to it again?
Have I explained it? Does it seem like I really even tried?
I must say relationships down here are interesting. Dating, in general, involves something more than what I was used to. Of course, every ex of mine would probably say my main problem was not really trying. Not investing. Sure. I wont disagree simply because I, apparently, could care less. So what is different down here? Knowing that there is difference between us, more than male/female stuff, simple communication becomes rather interesting. When we all speak the same language, we think we understand. When we don’t, we know that we are missing something. But somehow, you cannot really know what that something is. I would argue it was always a lie to assume we understood each other. The same language ensures that the words will be familiar, not that the meaning, intentions, feelings, implied by those words will be comprehended. I have dated girls that speak excellent English and those that speak none. As you might have guessed, the level of English has nothing to do with it. It is the part where you want to understand the other person that makes one viable and the other a flop. So is that so different from any other relationship?
I use the dating metaphor for a reason. At some point or another, everyone reading this has been on a date of some kind, or been in some kind of loving relationship (gender is not important here). I cannot assume any more than that, but I would imagine there has come a time (unless you happily married/became the permanent partner of the first person you ever dated) when you think that you and the other person do not really speak the same language. The words are there, clearly there are some types of feeling (revulsion, hate, indifference, etc.), but the words you both use no longer (if they ever did and you were simply not delusional-in love) signify the same thing. Then, you may make the analogy that one person is speaking a separate idiom (Spanish, Portuguese, Italian) than your own. Try explaining that to someone not involved and you will often receive a look of sympathy, which probably implies that the person either does not really care or thinks you don’t know what you are talking about. Either way, you come off sounding odd.
Hence, me saying that I do not speak the same language as many people in my own country seems either quite strange or stupid. However, that has no bearing on the fact that I feel as I do.
On a side note, I feel like a teenager again. I met this girl about 4 months ago and have had a lot of interaction with her since, but now somehow I feel different toward her. But then you don’t want to make a move and look like an idiot if she does not feel the same way (our relationship is not one of simple friendship, it is a little more complex than that). So what do you do? Well, if you are a coward, like me, you do nothing different. You make an effort to see the person more, but then you wait. Why? Weakness is all I can imagine. Well, that is not true. of course I can rationalize it any number of ways to make myself feel better, but I wont. In the end, I might just simply enjoy feeling strange around this person.
I built a table today. Pretty exciting. Went to the home depot, bought some 1x4´s, ½ inch plywood for the top (I doubled it up). 42 inch square top, 32 inch legs (I am finally putting into practice my dream of making things my size- I have often thought sinks, toilets, counter tops, etc. were made for people not my size). I am making it like a cantina table (which if you have not been to mexico you probably don’t understand). Each leg is two 1x4´s nailed together at a right angle (this make a small pocket in between them) which opens to the outside, and inside this angle I made two shelves, about 20 inches apart, so that you can put a drink, or two, in the leg- this frees up the surface for cards, computer, books, food, whatever. I am going to make a lip around the top edges that will rise about ¼ inch over the top of the surface- this will make a shallow, I don’t know, pool for lack of a better word. The logic behind this is that if my friends and I play cards you can toss a card across the table and it wont fall on the floor. Basically, I have created something that would be excellent for small children and babies- difficult to knock something off the top onto the floor and it keeps liquids away from the action (like a high-chair probably). I did not have a table before, so now I can type at home, do work here more easily, have people over to eat without having them sit on the floor or eat from their lap in a plastic chair. Mighty domestic of me. I also now have a place to put things when I come home from school, etc. otherwise, everything goes on the floor. Not really hygienic I guess. I suppose it is time for me to start getting it together. It also implies a sense of permanence I was never really ready for before. The less you have the easier it is to leave it. That might say more about my personality than I care to admit, but there it is.
I am going to build bookshelves next. My dad and Anthony can be proud that I finally put to use the skills I learned with them. Working with wood is fun. A hammer, nails and tape measure really go a long way. I also have an artist friend who is going to paint the table for me. Not sure about the design just yet, but I will try to take a picture of it at some point to show you. Somewhere in Richmond jimmy d is proud of me. Or paul, z-moves, sinc. I am certainly not on a par with them, but hey, you have to start somewhere.
What does it mean when I, others, say that I, we, no longer speak the same language? A paradigm shift is a bullshit, 21st century phrase that only signifies if you understand your present paradigm. If not, wander along and leave the thinking to the media which tells you what to eat, wear, say, watch, read, study, love, hate, forget. Remember.
Can you really change in 18 months? What is it that you changed? Did you change it, or did it change you? What does ¨it¨ mean? These are the ramblings of one looking for an answer using a system of signs that, although they permit, do not promote, introspection.
There is a story that Socrates (or Plato, depending on whether or not you even believe Socrates existed) related in one of his early teachings. When writing was first created, the god who created it took the idea to the wisest person he knew. This person, a king, offered numerous objections, rather criticisms. He said that writing would make people forget. If you don’t have to memorize anything, i.e. you can write it down, then what will you remember? Also, the king said it would make fools feel they had knowledge. Anyone can go to a teacher and listen, take notes, then repeat the words written on the page. This, in no sense, signifies understanding, knowledge.
As you might imagine, the god was none too pleased with this reply. He had created the first artificial technology, writing, and wanted what any inventor, and god for that matter, does: praise. Not receiving the appreciation he felt he deserved must have been quite a blow. But, he was a god, and in general, life is pretty good for the gods. Eternal life, wild and outrageous powers, good times.
My argument lacks both novelty and entertainment value. Those two definitely work against me as the old and boring are often brushed aside in favor of something shiny, shimmering, still in the plastic. Retire meant community.
Walking around this city you see the influence of us(a). actually, you must work not to see it, and then, really, you are simply lying to yourself. Progress. Such an innocent word on its surface, especially as a verb, yet the problems arise when you make it a noun. As in, ¨gazing out from her 25th floor apartment balcony, the steel, glass and general progress the city had made were blinding.¨ she cannot see anymore. Probably does not want to, truly. Can you explain to someone without vision what a skyscraper looks like? Can you impart the sound of a jackhammer to someone without hearing? These are artificial creations, to be sure, but substituting these for natural examples makes no real difference. Language, then, fails. The break down occurs, and you either move on to something else and forget, or, repeatedly knock your head against a wall. Which is better? The result is roughly the same.
Is progress really a gift? Everything I see here tells me it is. The people are often eager to remind me of wonderful advances the city/country has made in the last 15 years. I am typing on a laptop by the way. My hypocrisy knows no bounds.
So maybe this lack of understanding is simply a feeling. Poets, authors, bryan adams and the bee.gee´s have been trying to educate us on the finer points of feelings for a long time, yet I think we still have not come to understand them very well. If we did, would we still need these people or simple rewind the tape and listen to it again?
Have I explained it? Does it seem like I really even tried?
I must say relationships down here are interesting. Dating, in general, involves something more than what I was used to. Of course, every ex of mine would probably say my main problem was not really trying. Not investing. Sure. I wont disagree simply because I, apparently, could care less. So what is different down here? Knowing that there is difference between us, more than male/female stuff, simple communication becomes rather interesting. When we all speak the same language, we think we understand. When we don’t, we know that we are missing something. But somehow, you cannot really know what that something is. I would argue it was always a lie to assume we understood each other. The same language ensures that the words will be familiar, not that the meaning, intentions, feelings, implied by those words will be comprehended. I have dated girls that speak excellent English and those that speak none. As you might have guessed, the level of English has nothing to do with it. It is the part where you want to understand the other person that makes one viable and the other a flop. So is that so different from any other relationship?
I use the dating metaphor for a reason. At some point or another, everyone reading this has been on a date of some kind, or been in some kind of loving relationship (gender is not important here). I cannot assume any more than that, but I would imagine there has come a time (unless you happily married/became the permanent partner of the first person you ever dated) when you think that you and the other person do not really speak the same language. The words are there, clearly there are some types of feeling (revulsion, hate, indifference, etc.), but the words you both use no longer (if they ever did and you were simply not delusional-in love) signify the same thing. Then, you may make the analogy that one person is speaking a separate idiom (Spanish, Portuguese, Italian) than your own. Try explaining that to someone not involved and you will often receive a look of sympathy, which probably implies that the person either does not really care or thinks you don’t know what you are talking about. Either way, you come off sounding odd.
Hence, me saying that I do not speak the same language as many people in my own country seems either quite strange or stupid. However, that has no bearing on the fact that I feel as I do.
On a side note, I feel like a teenager again. I met this girl about 4 months ago and have had a lot of interaction with her since, but now somehow I feel different toward her. But then you don’t want to make a move and look like an idiot if she does not feel the same way (our relationship is not one of simple friendship, it is a little more complex than that). So what do you do? Well, if you are a coward, like me, you do nothing different. You make an effort to see the person more, but then you wait. Why? Weakness is all I can imagine. Well, that is not true. of course I can rationalize it any number of ways to make myself feel better, but I wont. In the end, I might just simply enjoy feeling strange around this person.
I built a table today. Pretty exciting. Went to the home depot, bought some 1x4´s, ½ inch plywood for the top (I doubled it up). 42 inch square top, 32 inch legs (I am finally putting into practice my dream of making things my size- I have often thought sinks, toilets, counter tops, etc. were made for people not my size). I am making it like a cantina table (which if you have not been to mexico you probably don’t understand). Each leg is two 1x4´s nailed together at a right angle (this make a small pocket in between them) which opens to the outside, and inside this angle I made two shelves, about 20 inches apart, so that you can put a drink, or two, in the leg- this frees up the surface for cards, computer, books, food, whatever. I am going to make a lip around the top edges that will rise about ¼ inch over the top of the surface- this will make a shallow, I don’t know, pool for lack of a better word. The logic behind this is that if my friends and I play cards you can toss a card across the table and it wont fall on the floor. Basically, I have created something that would be excellent for small children and babies- difficult to knock something off the top onto the floor and it keeps liquids away from the action (like a high-chair probably). I did not have a table before, so now I can type at home, do work here more easily, have people over to eat without having them sit on the floor or eat from their lap in a plastic chair. Mighty domestic of me. I also now have a place to put things when I come home from school, etc. otherwise, everything goes on the floor. Not really hygienic I guess. I suppose it is time for me to start getting it together. It also implies a sense of permanence I was never really ready for before. The less you have the easier it is to leave it. That might say more about my personality than I care to admit, but there it is.
I am going to build bookshelves next. My dad and Anthony can be proud that I finally put to use the skills I learned with them. Working with wood is fun. A hammer, nails and tape measure really go a long way. I also have an artist friend who is going to paint the table for me. Not sure about the design just yet, but I will try to take a picture of it at some point to show you. Somewhere in Richmond jimmy d is proud of me. Or paul, z-moves, sinc. I am certainly not on a par with them, but hey, you have to start somewhere.
05 January 2007
in every situation there are always surprises.
first of all, happy holidays to all. i hope the xmas and new year went quite well. feliz año nuevo y espero que todo fuera bien para todos.
i came in a little early today (there are no classes but i thought i would get here around 8 because starting next week i teach every day at 730am) and had an unexpected visitor.
my schedule for next semester was fairly good: mwf- 730-1030 (3 50minute classes), break, 1330-1430. tu/th- 730-830, 9-1030, break, 1330-1430. i was teaching 5 classes for a total of 19 hours a week. last semester i only taught 5 classes, 15hours a week, and was not too stoked about the money i was making (hence the private lessons). last semester i had a lot of free time. what we do with our free time is often unproductive(professionally) and in this city, requires some sort of money. in other words, i was spending almost as much as i was making each month. not good.
thus, a bump of 4 hours would increase my salary a fair amount, and with the other private lessons i was giving, should have given me plenty of work while silently removing some free time. i was pleased for the most part because i would be giving a literature course and a media, culture & criticism course. smooth sailing.
upon my arrival at 8am or so, i walked into my new office (i now am on the opposite corner of the top floor with an office overlooking the green side of campus- two walls are actually floor to ceiling windows and glass; i also only share the office with one other person- my new supervisor j, who is from canada) and sat down to read for 20 minutes or so. ever since moving offices a few days ago, i have felt great because it seemed as if i were starting over again in some senses.
my surprise came around 9am when my buddy c came into the office. he is a coordinator of a class i thought i would be teaching next semester, but at the last minute i was offered something different. he was definitely supposed to be in a meeting (there is a faculty meeting for those full-time staff), so i thought he was playing hooky and wanted to go get a coffee or something.
he first asked my schedule for next semester, though he knew it (he also lives in the apt under me and we hang out fairly often on the weekends and during the week- we also go to the gym sometimes and we went to coffee shops in the mornings over xmas break to get work done- he is finishing his phd thesis). he then asked me if i wanted more hours.
ok, take a look at my schedule again. i teach 3 consecutive hours (2 diff classes) monday wednesday and friday. 3 hour break until 1330 when i teach another hour. tuesday is not as heavy. do i have space? sure. keep in mind i will also be working once a week or so giving 45 minutes of lecture to a college course (substituting for this same person), and also once a week i will be proctoring a toefl exam (3 hours, usually in the evening or on saturday mornings).
what time are the classes and when? 2 new classes, one new course(writing intensive), from 1030-1230 mwf. in other words, my new schedule would be from 730-1230 mon, wed, fri (3 different classes) and then one hour off and teach again from 1330-1430. 5 consecutive hours. i have never taught that much at once. i have only had 3 different preps (preparing 3 separate classes) once, back in 2000 in the o.c.(virginia that is). 6 more hours of teaching would give me 25 hours a week. not a lot compared to some schools in the usa, but for someone who worked only 15 one month ago, it feels like a lot.
so, what do you think i did? did i take the job? or, did i pass on it because it would overload my schedule, give me no break or preparation time during the day, and generally wear me out?
million dollar question
semester begins on monday. yeehaw
first of all, happy holidays to all. i hope the xmas and new year went quite well. feliz año nuevo y espero que todo fuera bien para todos.
i came in a little early today (there are no classes but i thought i would get here around 8 because starting next week i teach every day at 730am) and had an unexpected visitor.
my schedule for next semester was fairly good: mwf- 730-1030 (3 50minute classes), break, 1330-1430. tu/th- 730-830, 9-1030, break, 1330-1430. i was teaching 5 classes for a total of 19 hours a week. last semester i only taught 5 classes, 15hours a week, and was not too stoked about the money i was making (hence the private lessons). last semester i had a lot of free time. what we do with our free time is often unproductive(professionally) and in this city, requires some sort of money. in other words, i was spending almost as much as i was making each month. not good.
thus, a bump of 4 hours would increase my salary a fair amount, and with the other private lessons i was giving, should have given me plenty of work while silently removing some free time. i was pleased for the most part because i would be giving a literature course and a media, culture & criticism course. smooth sailing.
upon my arrival at 8am or so, i walked into my new office (i now am on the opposite corner of the top floor with an office overlooking the green side of campus- two walls are actually floor to ceiling windows and glass; i also only share the office with one other person- my new supervisor j, who is from canada) and sat down to read for 20 minutes or so. ever since moving offices a few days ago, i have felt great because it seemed as if i were starting over again in some senses.
my surprise came around 9am when my buddy c came into the office. he is a coordinator of a class i thought i would be teaching next semester, but at the last minute i was offered something different. he was definitely supposed to be in a meeting (there is a faculty meeting for those full-time staff), so i thought he was playing hooky and wanted to go get a coffee or something.
he first asked my schedule for next semester, though he knew it (he also lives in the apt under me and we hang out fairly often on the weekends and during the week- we also go to the gym sometimes and we went to coffee shops in the mornings over xmas break to get work done- he is finishing his phd thesis). he then asked me if i wanted more hours.
ok, take a look at my schedule again. i teach 3 consecutive hours (2 diff classes) monday wednesday and friday. 3 hour break until 1330 when i teach another hour. tuesday is not as heavy. do i have space? sure. keep in mind i will also be working once a week or so giving 45 minutes of lecture to a college course (substituting for this same person), and also once a week i will be proctoring a toefl exam (3 hours, usually in the evening or on saturday mornings).
what time are the classes and when? 2 new classes, one new course(writing intensive), from 1030-1230 mwf. in other words, my new schedule would be from 730-1230 mon, wed, fri (3 different classes) and then one hour off and teach again from 1330-1430. 5 consecutive hours. i have never taught that much at once. i have only had 3 different preps (preparing 3 separate classes) once, back in 2000 in the o.c.(virginia that is). 6 more hours of teaching would give me 25 hours a week. not a lot compared to some schools in the usa, but for someone who worked only 15 one month ago, it feels like a lot.
so, what do you think i did? did i take the job? or, did i pass on it because it would overload my schedule, give me no break or preparation time during the day, and generally wear me out?
million dollar question
semester begins on monday. yeehaw
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