Girl Anachronicles

This man was hit over the head and arrested because he attempted to bring food to his son, who is participating in the strike at the local state University.

… what the fuck is WRONG with this island? When did we stop questioning authority and started mistrusting each other so much, that even a parent’s love is something to be submitted to external judgement and punishment.

If it had been my father … I would have jumped the gates and kicked away at the world I would probably be bathed in blood too.

Han pasado ya casi 3 meses desde la última vez que escribí aquí. Está un poquito cafre empezar estas cosas así, pero hay que decirlo, tengo que decirlo, so pena de que se me quede nada adentro.

Algunas personas se ofendieron por mi post acerca de los hombres casados. No, vamos, algunas personas se ofendieron con el timing de mi post… Lo triste es que algunas de esas “algunas personas” eran personas cercanas a mí, y terminé cogiendo agüita a nombre de quien no valía la pena tener que cogerla. Me dejé amedrentar. Dejé que me metieran un miedo estupidísimo de escribir y herir sentimientos y sensibilidades.

Esta pendejá ya no pare máaaaaaaaas....

Tres meses son más que suficiente para dejar caer todo el peso de mi espalda y decir “YA BASTA”. Lo lindo de ese proceso es que ya una vez uno comienza a mandar a uno pa’l carajo, los manda a TODOS… o por lo menos a quienes se lo merecen. Es uno de esos procesos de cambio que antes los mistificaba, ahora simplemente me dejan atónita. Una nunca termina de conocerse, ah?

So … febrero. Hasta febrero 23, mi único trabajo había sido en la cueva de los góticos, el fabuloso, el inigualable, HOT TOPIXXXX!!!! (añada aquí manitos de metal y mucho eyeliner).

Un homenaje a mis queridísimos ex-clientes! Tan originales...

Más de un año metiéndole caña al asunto, haciendo un trabajo que estoy bastante segura que fue bueno, metiéndole “berraco”, como diría mi papá. Está un poco desalentador entonces que después de un año, nada pasa y te encuentras de nuevo en la posición de saltarle encima a las sobras de los horarios de los demás. Un año de meterle duro, y honestamente uno se cansa de fajarse y perder hasta la sanidad y dignidad mental para que no te dé siquiera para comer. Así que me tocó tragarme el orgullo y regresar a las oficinas.

En el 2008 juré – después de zapatearme de trabajar en el último círculo del infierno de informática – que NUNCA MÁS volvería a trabajar en una oficina. Me equivoqué un poco: debí haber dicho que NUNCA MÁS trabajaría en un puesto de informática. Era más accurate. En el 2010, después de un vuelo de regreso a casa más amargo que un tamarindo verde, decidí que era el momento de dejarme de mojonerías y buscarme un trabajo donde por lo menos, si me iban a pagar mierda, iba a ser mierda con la que pudiera contar. Así es que he terminado de regreso en el escritorio, vestida de muñequita semi-corporativa, atendiendo teléfonos y cobrándole a la gente. En verdad, no está tan jodido como estar metida en un cubículo jalándome las greñas porque no entiendo UNA PUÑETA DE SQL!!!! (ay, que lindo ser programador … not…)

Por qué carajos estudié esta mierdaaaaaaaa?!

Por un breve tiempo mantuve ambos trabajos, pero… no entremos en detalles, simplemente dejémoslo como que “me causa mucho estrés tener que estar del tingo al tango entre dos trabajos distintos” y que “me equipararon la suma de las horas en la oficina” … Le he cogido el gusto a revolcar la mierda, pero aún no me encanta que me caiga en la boca.

Así que con un trabajo que paga por lo menos una mesada regular, la llegada de un ingreso adicional a la casa ha sido la gota que colmó la contentura. Tenemos roommate nueva, y como dijera un amigo nuestro el otro día, “andamos de party todo el tiempo”. Aún cuando estamos apesta’os de la vida y odiando a la humanidad, lo increíble es que nos da con hacer eso los tres juntos en la sala. Definitivamente ha resultado ser un acuerdo sumamente especial y favorable para todo el mundo. Now my family is complete. El día que se nos case la nena :’( no sé qué vamos a hacer. Me va a dar empty nest syndrome a los fókin 40 años y sin haber parido, qué cojones.

Mira que estoy tan orgullosa de ella, que hasta a su primer sensor le saqué fotos.

También tengo el asunto de las clases – quiero decir! de la HUELGA – no, no, de las clases … whatever. El punto es que se supone que haya clases, no las hay, y eso me está poniendo los pelos de punta. Apoyo 100% la huelga, pero mi apoyo a ella no tiene nada que ver con el performance anxiety que me ha provocado ESPA4252 con la Prof. Luce López-Baralt. La cúspide – y a la vez liberación – de esa ansiedad hubiese sido una monografía que propuse y fue aceptada: un paralelo entre Don Quijote de la Mancha y The Neverending Story. Alucinante! Y aterrador! Y ahora que la huelga va para los 20 días, ya yo no sé qué va a pasar con la clase, con la profe, con la monografía ni con mi sanidad mental. Estoy que lo churreteo todo pa’l carajo y escribo un ensayo acerca del Gallito Polito. Colgá! El Gallito Polito no tiene nada que ver con Cervantes ni con el Siglo de Oro. De hecho, yo no sé quién es el Gallito Polito.

...jodío cabrón!

Aún así, la huelga también ha tenido su lado amable. Sirvió de catarsis, o por lo menos de punto afianzador para dos proyectos que me parecen “acojonantes” (estos españoles son la changa cuando se trata de describir cosas gufiás).

Está el podcast de En Profundo (unh?), que empezó con unos cuantos, y en el momento más alarmante, ocupó toda una esquina de nuestra barra favorita. Y yo usualmente me pego al corillo, y le llego, y me siento y me acomodo con ellos, y … no digo ni JI. Fucking ansiedad social…

Pero no me pasa lo mismo con el podcast de Kitty Kitty Dinosaur! (rawr rawr miau!), que como somos cuatro anormalitas hablando mierda, me siento en mi elemento… deberían chequearlo, btw, aunque sea simplemente por el ejercicio antropológico.

Aparte de estos dos proyectos, que han sido los más sólidos entre toda la ráfaga de actividad que ha habido recientemente, también intenté llevar a cabo un proyecto en el cual iba a dibujar algo todos los días por el espacio de un año. Mi musa es mi peor enemiga, eso te lo aseguro. La cabrona se fue de vacaciones a mitad de abril y me dejó puyúa.

…pero, como a mí no me gusta quedarme dá’, decidí que si no dibujo, no prob… coso. De nuevo. Y por lo menos esta vez voy con más ánimo. Lo que necesitaba era el descanso y reorganizar mi espacio. MUCH better, ahora que tengo un gaveterito rosa peptobismol con escarcha. Me siento más nena y to….

Y ahora esto… escribir de nuevo. Me hizo falta. Tanta emoción embotellada por dentro no ha sido saludable, y ya que estaba en las de soltarme como gabete (perdón! como “agujeta”), decidí darle un fuckit a toda la mala vibra que había permeado la idea de escribir aquí y finalmente HACERLO!

No quiero prometer que nunca más volverá a pasar, pero sí voy a hacer el intento de usar este espacio más a menudo, aunque sea para mariconerías mías.

Apropiármelo.

Porque sí, porque es MI espacio, y no el de más nadie para que decida qué le parece bien leer aquí y qué le parece mal. Se pueden cagar en sus lindas madrecitas como regalo tardío del Día de Hallmark si no les gusta el asunto, ok?

I think it was precisely ten years ago that I gave up the tradition of making resolutions for the new year. I think I must’ve figured it was a stupid waste of energy. Habits are diamond-hard to break: an overnight party and champagne binge will not change that, neither will a change in the calendar year.

So, New Year’s Eve turned for me into a contemplation of milestones. Like watching a movie recap, I look back on all things achieved and changed during the course of the past year. Serves no purpose but to think.

Most people are convinced that this year marks the end of the decade (poor misguided souls!): a mistaken perception, since decades change over when year number 1 starts – not year zero. So it comes to pass that people start reminiscing, not only about the past year, but also about the past ten years. Most social networks online get filled with small fragments of memories: travels, piercings, graduations, jobs… and then I thought about it too. What was I doing 10 years ago? And it hit me like a stone.

Ten years ago, May 1999 to be precise, I graduated from college with a BA in commercial administration, ready and committed to work for an IT company. I immediately was sent on my first work trip, and immediately proceeded to “fall in love” with the first Costa Rican boy that batted his pretty lashes at me. Going to bed with him was just a matter of a few nights, some alcohol and a smattering of gallant words.

Ten years ago, September 2009, I aborted his baby. I learned a few things: 1 – this career was not the career I wanted, 2 – I had no intention of being a single mother, 3 – not all men who treat you kindly and say pretty words will actually be good men. I also realized that during my college years, I had become what my career required me to become, not who I actually was. I quit my job the day after my abortion. Business suits and pump shoes were put away.

Ten years ago, October 1999, I got my first retail job. I learned that I loved retail. I learned that retail doesn’t earn enough to keep.

Ten years ago, December 1999, I had my best Christmas ever. In spite of the horrid abortion I had just had (and the immediate sense of regret, the tears always at the ready in my eyes), my family proved to be everything I needed. This was the year I learned that I had a home again, even if my parents were divorced, even if my heart was breaking. Family was my fallback pillow. Family was my womb.

At the present, I am currently following the academic path I would have chosen in 1995 if my father hadn’t offered his advice filled with common sense. In the meanwhile, I’m working in retail again, after almost 10 years working on my BA career. I tried time and again to make it right, but the heart knows best: this was not the career I wanted. I knew by 1999. Ten years did not change that.

I miss my family to the point of tears. My father and his wife, who housed me in infinite warmth in 1999, now live in Orlando, FL. I will be visiting them in 2 weeks. My brother, who in 1999 was my partner in crime and advisor, now lives in Chicago, IL. I don’t know when I’ll see him again. My stepbrother and stepsisters all live in different places, some have their own children now… The family is fragmented. The love is still there.

… and ultimately, I chose not to have children. Had I had my way shortly after the abortion, I would have had a “guilt baby”. Destiny chose otherwise then. I’ve come to keep making that choice lately. I’m not sorry for my decisions.

My life has been product of those decisions.

So, 2010 will not magically bring new clarity or abundance into my life. It’s just a milestone. Here’s to hoping I get many more of those. May I lead an interesting life.

(yes, I just cursed myself)

Last post on this blog: May 12th

I think it was about time I put down my virtual red pen, shoved aside the text books for a moment, and sat down to write something of my own.

Summer drained me. A mere few weeks after my last entry, I plunged myself into the world of “being an art teacher”. This world demands your full load of patience, and then some. I think all teacher worlds demand this, mind you, and teachers that love what they do earned my undying admiration.

I was art teacher for a month in a summer camp. The main objective of the camp was for kids to practice their English in a fun way, they said. The art activities didn’t have to be particularly complex or farfetched, they said. What they didn’t say was:

- Kids expect innovation/newness at every single fucking turn. You can’t have them coloring paper with crayons two days in a row, they’ll go crazy!

Watercolors again!?!?!? MAN!!!!

- Art supplies are freakin’ expensive. And this particular school was very skeptical about giving me free rein of their art supplies (which are used specifically for summer camp, since they don’t have art class in the school year curriculum … those paints and glitter and glue bottles have been sitting there for years!)

- Kids can’t really be kids … they can’t run, they can’t jump, they can’t skip. Otherwise, they might fall, and godforbiftheyfallthey’ll SUE US! Jeezus! This was the attitude at te beginning of the day, at the end of it, and oh lordy lord! LUNCH TIME. Lunch.Time.Was.HELL!!!

Can't run, can't walk, can't scream, can't talk...

- I’d be having lunch with the same group assigned to me the hour before lunch. Which meant two full hours with the same group. Which turned out to be the biggest group (20). Of 7 -9 year old BOYS. Who ate in a flash. And couldn’t go anywhere else after they ate their lunch. Guess what they did in those remaining 45 minutes. … I’ll let your imagination do the rest.

Fit this inside a small classroom. Yeah. That.

… so, by the end of June, I was happy to the point of tears that the whole ordeal was over. I remembered summer camp work quite differently. I guess different camps work different ways. Sometimes bigger IS better.

The one thing that kept me going and going and going through all those days of feeling subhuman was the notion that I was flying off to see Dad on that very last day of camp. Ohhhh, it was worth it! Thank you, Eze!

I visited Dad during a Father’s Day weekend: it was a flurry of activity, trying to make all the hours last. I’ll always say I wish I had him nearby, but after seeing him and Martha and Felipe carry on with their lives over there, I realized they’ve pretty much found their groove … even if it’s a poor groove. They’re comfy. And their house smells like wood, and apple-cinnamon, and Christmas, and home I wish it was nearer …

The rest of summer went by way too fast, I think. Most days were spent looking out the window, wondering why my work schedule was so funky that they always put me in during evenings or closing shifts. At least work is still going strong, and I still like it. I think, however, that I could have made better use of my time during summer, I dunno. It was over in a flash.

And now, August-December semester is here (my favorite: it’s plagued with a smattering of holidays, the occasional strike, and unexpected tropical storms and hurricanes). I’m only  taking one class, and thankfully! I thought it would be easier, but gosh, this professor is driving nails down my temper’s blackboard! I have my first test tomorrow, and for the first time in a long while, my nerves are on edge.

During this semester I’ve also gotten timidly involved in the revamping/overhaul/let’s-get-this-shit-running of FrecuenciasAlternas.com … as an editor (hence, the virtual red pen). I’ve kept sewing what I sew, and then some more: I took Grandma’s sewing machine, wiped the dust and cockroach eggs off, and put it to good use. My wardrobe is growing again, thanks to this wonderful machine and the magnanimous generosity of a few friends (Maricarmen, Lynnie, thank you!).

This summer's masterpiece: McCartney & Yellow Submarine

… and now holidays are getting nearer, starting off with my favorite: Halloween … which my colleagues say won’t be my favorite no mo’ because it gets all fucked up in a jiffy at the store. I don’t doubt it: Hot Topic is one of the very few costume outlets in this island. If you can’t find your sexy fireman outfit with us, where can you? No, we don’t have sexy firemen outfits … dude, get a freaking red g-string and a heavy duty hose at Sears, jeezus!

So, catch me ’round the bend. I’m pretty sure I’ll be covered head to toe in repurposings and hemming-ins ^_^

Semester is ending, and the fact that I haven’t posted here regularly has been nagging me like a tiny fly in the back of my mind. Some would say that school is to blame for the lack of blogging, but in my case, I think it may be Twitter.:-/ Microblogging killed regular blogging. Sad.

I have 2 final exams to contend with: I’m not quite ready for either, and being sick (again!) hasn’t helped much. I’ve missed more classes these past few weeks than I did the rest of the semester. Bad move on my part, but I couldn’t help it. However, I’m confident I’ll be able to pull through and pass both courses with good grades.

Another time-consumer has been Fotutos y Cuchufletes: my latest project – I’d say my first organized and money-making project. It’s been slow on the takeoff, but I’ve received great feedback mostly. On Monday, I’ll be taking the merch out for a spin at an artisan’s faire in the Hospital del Maestro in Hato Rey. We’ll see if that can help me gather up enough funds to pay for the car and the marbete this month.

There’s also the arrival of the cat, Gallifrey. Two weeks and a half ago, a kitten crossed my path, quite literally, to results very similar to Caprica’s. He had his eyes entirely covered with secretions due to conjunctivitis and couldn’t see where he was going, so he ended up crawling up a truck’s tire. He could have died, but instead he burst into my life with his toilet-paper-wasting ways. He’s much better now (conjunctivitis is gone, his respiratory tract infection is still being taken care of, and stomach parasites have been erradicated!), and making our lives more … interesting.

So, summer is arriving and it looks promising, to say the least. Possibilities of a summer job have arised, let’s see if they materialize. If they do, I’ll have the strangest job in my life yet, and it will most probably be fun too. No more details until I know for sure.