01.18.05 - 2:01 p.m.

I am still at my grandmother's. The guilt got to me and I'm staying an extra day. My aunt is pointing out that the train I'm taking back to my dad's house passes through the town where that boy from college works. Also a surprise is that Irv actually called me! I didn't want to pay for the cell phone charges though (it was roaming and I am honestly broke) and so I flaked and said I'd call him back, but his # didn't come up on my phone. There are sometimes when I get all excited about the boys and other times where I just can't be bothered. It all seems to take too much effort right now. There are people out there I can booty call, but even they do not appeal to me. This is an indicator that I'm not in it at this moment because usually I am the first person in line for potential booty.

I do like sex. I'm lucky that I'm not one of those women who have been messed with and hurt...I've been having orgasms (or 'climaxing', as grandma says) since I was little. I've had a variety of lovers (which is not really to brag, but more to say that I know the diversity of things one can feel and do) and right now I just don't want to worry about my body hair or getting someone else off. I am in Receiver mode. Not even. I guess not thinking much about sex at your grandmas house is appropriate. 'Nuff said.

Yesterday was MLKJr. day. I didn't do much to celebrate. I read a book. Talked in a loud voice to my grandma so she wouldn't say "What?" every second and worked out. I did watch the requisite "I Have a Dream" speech on T.V. It is moving, no doubt. When I was teaching this time of year I'd do my big unit on slavery and rebelling against opression. I'd throw in capoeira (which the kids would inevitably remember for the rest of the year and try to do cartwheels at random). Last year it lead into a big lesson based around the kid's book called Esperanza Rising about Mexican migrant farm workers in California in the 20's and 30's. Unfairness is a chord that resonates strongly with children. I love when they get outraged about something as real as that and then it's amazing to help them channel their energy. It's one thing I really miss about teaching.

Being in the suburbs right now and trying to love my aunt through her mega consumer life is really hard. My great grandmother was a big unionist/anarchist turned communist. My dad and mom met at some socialist gathering and I like to think I try to live my life the best way I can and sort through my own racist/classist bullshit as honestly as possible. So I like to think I come from this strong family chain of people who are trying to live life fairly. But my aunt is married to some international investement banker and my cousins, while sweet, are just fully wrapped up in Seven jeans and eye shadow. When I told my aunt I didn't want to go to Starbuck's she kind of laughed at me. When I explained to my cousins what the deal was (they mark up coffee and the growers don't ever see that price,and can't live off what they do see; that starbuck's is anti-union and is part of a service industry that doesn't create sustainable jobs for people who aren't being taken care of by their parents) they mostly understood. But then my aunt kept saying "But OUR Starbucks is okay! The guy who owns it is so nice! Gives jobs to the wealthy white college students home on vacation!" And I just felt so deflated. It may seem that I shouldn't be bothered, but her life is such excess and self involved. My cousin wants to be a personal shopper married to a plastic surgeon when she grows up. That's just fucking disgusting. But I still love her because she's family.

They wanted me to talk to their Ecuadorean housekeeper in Spanish to tell her that my grandpa had died (she cried, muy sweet) and could she come on Friday to do the bathrooms? Sigh. They were also surprised to know that she was illegal and that her children lived back in Ecuador and she was sending money home to them. (The story of casi every man in El Frijol and so many of my student's families last year.) How can the fact that people don't make enough money in their own country come here illegally surprise people?
Bigger sigh.

Now I'm sad again. Life still isn't fair. And if I'm not teaching kids I have a hard time seeing my part in making the world any more so. I tell myself that taking rich kids to El Frijol to teach and live in rural villages will be a multicultural/ global friendship exchange for both parties. Is that enough? Me thinks no. But I'm getting depressed. Sorry MLK Jr.

At least the radio stations in this city are the bomb diggy.

Adios, y voy a dejarte con este chestnut de Cecelia Cruz "My English isn't so good looking."

Paletissima

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