I'm afraid you guys might be disappointed--this may not look like a mullet, but there is length and shagginess. Let's call it a mini-mullet, or a baby-mullet, or how about a mullet-in-training??

Hot News

I think I'm growing a mullet. It still looks good in the front, but I'm worried about the back.

Must make that appointment for a haircut!

Forget the System, Here's the Solution

In my journey to get healthy (i.e. lose weight), I joined a gym nearby. It was a wee bit expensive for me--just another added cost that seems extravagant as I wait semi-patiently for my paycheck. But, oh, the health benefits. G. says that's what I gotta focus on.

I go to Cardio Dance class, excuse, Cardio Dance "group fitness." The moves don't feel like exercising, which is exactly what I need to get my lazy ass off the sofa. Plus, it's fun. Really.

Do you ever have one of those days where everything is moving along just fine, then suddenly, the whole world turns sour?

My day has become the equivalent of pure lemon juice.

It's barely Thursday??!!

I really should be in bed, but I have my To-Do List to compile. I live my life with lists.

Anyway, I'm gonna tell you a story. Picture it: August 2002. A cramped, dark room with a bunch of chairs crowded around two big tables. Those chairs are filled with graduate students ranging from early 20's to mid 30's, some looking a little frazzled already, others cool as a cucumber, all a wee bit wary of each other. I sit in the corner of the table, partially hidden by another student. This is the second week of my first year of graduate school. And I'm scared.

A grumpy yet brilliant (University of Chicago alum, oo-la-la) prof enters and proceeds to wow the class with sharp analysis of the readings. These readings discussed political philosophy, political history, liberalism--that is, I think they had something to do with one or all of those topics. It's not time that made this memory fuzzy, it's the fact that I didn't understand a damn thing. These readings caused great concern and angst. I proceed to panic inwardly for the entire three hours of the seminar.

I left thinking I might have made a grave mistake.

Luckily, I soon got over feeling like a simpleton and learned to live with the sense that everybody knew more than me because frankly, some of my fellow students did, but a lot of them did not--they just knew how to fake it.

I brought this story up because I am auditing a public history seminar and today was the first day of class. Even though almost three years has passed since I finished grad school, I still felt panic-y and nervous as I scanned the reading list and requirements. But then, those feelings passed and I felt pretty darn comfortable.

Good sign.

Join the Revolution!

Today was my first day as a commuter. Before the move, I could take back streets to get to campus. Now, it's all freeway. Luckily, no traffic or accidents or recklessness (although I did see some lady on a cell phone. I expect to see that pretty frequently) or inclimate weather. Unluckily, my cd player is on the fritz. I drive while NPR's Morning Edition and All Things Considers is on the radio, but lately, those shows just aren't holding my attention anymore. They can be so darn nerdy. Sometimes I'm embarrassed to be listening. I'm also tuning out because of the abundance of depressing news that is reported everyday. From Iraq to immigration to gas prices to Bush--nope not much to feel good about. I know that's the wrong reaction when times are tough, but sometimes you need a break from reality.

This is where the Howard Stern show comes in.

G. and I spent the summer listening to satellite radio--actually, listening to the Howard Stern show on satellite radio. This may come as a surprise, but I love Howard Stern. It's so stupid and juvenile, yet hilariously funny and entertaining at the same time. I was initiated into Howard at an early age (exactly what his critics are afraid of, I'm sure)--junior year of high school to be exact. Then the local radio station took him off and the Howard dry spell set in. We don't get a good signal on the satellite radio here, so I'm hoping to move it into my car and keep listening. That's exactly what I need for the long drive.

Move over nerd radio.

Wow, a full year has passed.

I feel accomplished for keeping up with my blog. I really like having a space all my own to record whatever strikes my fancy. I have met really cool people through their comments on Ness and Filomena and added their blogs to my daily reading list. Thanks to all who read and comment. I really appreciate it!

I revisited my first post to remind myself why I started this blog. Those sentiments still ring true (even though I never got around to posting "fiction tidbits"). I want to try something new--G. called it Speed Blogging (italics denote speediness). I will blog everyday for a maximum of ten minutes, then another five or so to read, check, and comment on other blogs. Entries will be supershort and probably super random. On the otherhand, I think the blog will be more current.

These changes also coincide with the start of the fall semester tomorrow--very busy times with lots of possible stress and freak-outs, so I need to keep the blog outlet open.

Alright, Speed Blogging starts tomorrow! Have a super Monday, kids.

Happy (belated) 1st Anniversary, Ness and Filomena!!

First Attempt: I'm trying to direct G. in how to use the camera.

Second Attempt: Filo is distracted, but I look good (hee, hee). By the way, that calendar you see in the background was a gift, I swear.

The rain is back. We had a few days of clear, hot weather. Yesterday, storms across the city and Southern New Mexico flooded low-lying neighborhoods again and small towns like Hatch, New Mexico (where the green chiles are grown).

I almost got caught on the freeway during one of the worst episodes. I had a meeting at my campus across town at 10, then visited with my mom for a bit. I managed to get home, unload my car, and take Filo for a quick walk before the rain started pouring in the windows (I had just opened them). Filomena was barking and running around as I ran from room-to-room closing windows and mopping up. As soon as I finished with the bathroom window, I notice that we had a leak in the bedroom right over the dresser. A few of G.'s books got wet, the carpet--it was really coming down in a steady stream.

Rain is still in the forecast for the rest of this week and some of next week. Everybody is definitely over it, although a nice side effect is the cool weather.

Bad Vibes

I couldn't sleep last night. So I stayed up reading Strange Piece of Paradise. It's not my usual kind of read--the book covers the author's search for the man who tried to kill her and a friend while camping in 1977. It took the author 15 years to head back to Oregon and investigate the case. Turns out the entire community and the police knew exactly who did the crime, but there was never an arrest. The man went on to beat and torture his wife and girlfriends, sell drugs, and just be a horrible, horrible person until finally serving some jail time for threatening somebody with a gun. The author looked into other cases of violent crimes against women to try to understand criminal behavior. She also looked into how the legal system changed over time to protect victims rights.

It was a creepy book. Not the kind of book to read after moving to a different part of the city and living next to complete strangers. I do live in one of the safest cities in the US, yet still, the possibility that something bad could happen is very much lurking in the background. And I can't overlook the fact that I feel extra scared at times because I am a woman. I hate reading and hearing how that vulnerability is exploited so easily and frequently.

The book got me thinking about my own friend who was murdered some years back. The investigation and trial was heavily publicized. The different townspeople in Strange easily remembered that traumatic event and I think that would be true here too. Something dawned on me after finishing the book--the significance that my friend's murderers were convicted. Justice was served. The system worked. One victory while so many cases go unresolved.

I don't know how to feel yet about that. Strange's author took fifteen years before looking into her own case. It hasn't been that long for me, so maybe I'm still processing the experience. My head hurts tonight, though. Sleep will wash away these bad vibes.

Scenes From a Move

Jesus Christ, we're almost done putting our shit away.

Alright, it's not shit by any means, of course. By this point in our mission to Get Organized, however, anything and everything seems expendable. Two pairs of jeans I hope to fit into again someday? Chuck it. Nice bowls and serving dishes that come out with company? Toss 'em. Kazillion kitchen do-dads? Fuck 'em.

Our wonderful possessions somehow multiplied like rabbits in the three years since we moved back to El Paso. Prior to these past two weeks, I had a devil-may-care attitude about my living space. Moving to another apartment or even out of town seemed like a piece of cake. Just a matter of throwing Filomena and her three beds into the car, pack up some books and my antique chest of drawers and LET'S GO.

How silly of me.

Somehow we've acquired books and pieces of furniture and linens and lamps and extension cords and who-the-hell-knows-what-else. They are all so very necessary, you see. And yet, they all weigh oh-so-much and take a long time to put away.

I didn't start crying until Wednesday. We were in the old apartment, cleaning the kitchen, laundrycloset, vacuuming. I could not understand why it was taking us forever to do these few chores, It was almost as if G. and I were utter slobs who never cleaned anything ever (which we aren't, really we aren't). About four hours in I found myself sitting in the bathroom in utter despair. I shed a few tears (my eyes were already watery with the dust) and quietly bemoaned my fate for a few minutes. And then I dragged myself over to kitchen to clean the sink.

Even then, beneath the self-pity I knew I was overreacting and being ridiculous. That ridiculousness was affirmed later that evening. The local news reported a story about a woman whose home was partially destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. She had moved whatever belongings she could salvage into a storage place in West El Paso. Last week, the waterflow off the mountains and floods washed away the back wall of the storage place and took most of those possessions that managed to survive the hurricane. They are now strewn throughout a ravine. She was planning on moving those items into her new home this week.

So, now I feel like an asshole.

Rain, Rain Go Away

El Paso dried out a bit the past two days. Rain is still in the forecast. Officials are now worred that a dam about a mile away from the border in Juarez is going to break, so 1,500 fled South Side last night in fear that dam might burst.

I feel so bad for El Pasoans and Juarenses who are stuggling to get water and mud out and salvage their belongings. G. and I are extremely lucky that our families live in the relatively dry part of town. It's such a random thing--the Eastside gets flooded in rainstorms too, but this time the Westside and Northeast got the brunt of the damage. I gave information about donations to the Salvation Army to my students yesterday and lectured them on community responsibility. I don't care if I sounded preachy (and coming after a lecture on civil rights and the power of mass action, it probably did); this is a crisis here and now where they can make a difference and see the impact.

We had to change the date of our move. As feared, the occupants of our new apartment couldn't move in time, so the apartment won't be ready till middle of next week. Since we basically lost our moving help, we decided to hire movers. What's funny about this turn of events is that as we notified our families about the change, you could actually hear them trying to stifle their relief at not having to carry our possessions (including the 10+ boxes of books)--the bastards. Ha, I don't blame them. G. and I practically danced with joy.

Summer school is finally over. Jesus Christ, it was a long two months. I think I offer too much extra credit. Oh well.

P.S. The pictures are from my doorway. Filo accessed the scene and basically said, "No way Jose."

Storm 2006

El Paso is in the middle of it's "monsoon" season, usually a welcome relief from 100 plus degree weather. Today, monsoon turned into Storm 2006 (so dubbed by local news channels).

The rain that has been falling since Thursday is overwhelming draining ditches and the Rio Grande. El Paso usually gets 8-10 inches of rain a year; some parts of town got that much just since Thursday.

Everything seemed ok this morning when I left for class. In the middle of my first class, however, a student notified me that EPCC was closing all its' campuses. G. and I are hooked on the news coverage of flooded homes, roads, ditches--there's a lake on I-10!

Filo is extremely unhappy. She refuses to go out in the rain to pee or poop. I don't blame her actually.

Besides Filo's imminent constipation, G. and I haven't suffered much from the rain. We aren't totally scotch-free--we're scheduled to move to our new apartment on Saturday. And that new apartment just so happens to be located next to one of the flooded areas (two of the pictures are near our street). I'm not panicking just yet--highly concerned, a little headachy when I consider the boxes around me, but no panic.

I'll keep you posted.