Sunday, March 16, 2008

(AUF WIEDERSEHEN PART IV)YOUCANCHECKOUTANYTIMEYOULIKE,BUTYOUCANNEVERLEAVE

(all photos: 2008: los feliz/hollywood, ca.)

(the drive up to griffith observatory. we'd had great weather all day, despite reports of a 40% chance of rain . . . and though it didn't rain on us at the observatory, it did get very, very cold at the end . . . brrrrrrr!)


(the upside is that all that cold and wind kept the smog away. yay!)


(umm, what are those puffy things? are they marshmallows? mmm, i love marshmallows; sweet little pillows of sugary goodness. but i digress: this is a very unusual sight in el lay . . .)


(the famous hollywood sign . . . enjoy it, people, 'cuz it might not be there for much longer if real estate developers have their way.)


(tweedle with a blurry hollywood sign in the background.)


(she's little, gigi, but she's also mighty! a little fuzzy in the right corner, but the wind had picked up and was whipping my hair about every which way.)


(tweedle loooooooooooves james dean and all 3 of his movies . . . i guess quality and not quantity is what counts. really, this bust was the main reason we came up to the observatory!)


(no, those aren't pigeons; it's g-mom and gigi!)


(tweedle in the far left corner . . . random tourist messing up my shot . . . mr. gigi, gigi, g-mom, twaddle.)


(the one patch of blue sky. going, going, goooooone!)


(the observatory in it's entirety.)


(entrance to the observatory. there wasn't much to see inside, though, because a) we didn't have tickets to any of the shows and b) the telescope was closed due to the "inclement" weather. i say inclement in quotes because those of you in parts of the world that actually get inclement weather probably find my use of the word in this situation rather amusing, i'm sure.)


(the cupola inside the observatory's foyer.)


(what's gigi lookin' at?)


(oh! ah . . .)


(auf wiedersehen, frau tweedle und herr twaddle! we'll miss you! see you in two years!)

ANDTHEBATTLE'SJUSTBEGUN.THERE'SMANYLOST,BUTTELLMEWHOHASWON


(the dalai lama held a press conference, today, sunday, in dharamsala, india, to discuss the recent tibetan protests in lhasa and subsequent injuries and deaths resulting from the chinese government crackdown.)


i am not an intelligent woman.

and no, this isn't a case of self-deprecation or my masochistic nature talking, either.

i am not an intelligent woman.

so, will someone please be kind enough to explain to me just exactly WHY we're having the olympics in china?

i don't get it. i mean, the chinese government is one of the most violent and oppressive regimes the world has ever known. right? or am i confusing them with my native costa rica. you know, they both start with "c".

china's communist government stands against EVERYTHING that the olympics are supposed to represent, so why they fuck are we even there? why were they even allowed to throw their name into the hat?

for the last god-only-knows how long, the chinese have had the dubious distinction of being one of the top 10 human rights violators on america's report on human rights. this year, they were taken off the list despite the fact that their record remains "poor", which is legalese for still really fucking atrocious.

and THIS is who we want hosting the olympics?

wow.

as i was listening to NPR this past week, i heard some morons talking about how china was "not as bad" as some other countries; that the former soviet union, for example, hosted the olympics once too . . .

are you shitting me? "not as bad" . . . "the ussr did it too" . . . where did they find their arguments? hmm? "convenient arguments weekly"?

i feel like i am in the fucking twilight zone.

when did it become ok to sell our souls for so little? at least dr. faustus got power and knowledge for his. but what did we get in exchange? cheaper toys? lead poisoning?

this is the same type of shit that went down with saudi arabia just late last year, when they were going to execute a woman who'd been raped and the international community said nothing . . . though everyone did stir up quite a ruckus when that one british teacher in sudan was going to receive 40 lashings for allowing her kids to name a teddy "muhammad".

and why say nothing about saudi arabia?

oil.

i'd really hate to speculate as to the real reason that america dropped china from this year's top 10 list . . .

we cannot have our proverbial cake and eat it too, people. how can we chastise some countries for egregious human rights violations and then, in essence, condone others . . . nay, REWARD them?!?!

on friday, his holiness, the dalai lama issued this statement:

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I am deeply concerned over the situation that has been developing in Tibet following peaceful protests in many parts of Tibet, including Lhasa, in recent days. These protests are a manifestation of the deep-rooted resentment of the Tibetan people under the present governance.

As I have always said, unity and stability under brute force is at best a temporary solution. It is unrealistic to expect unity and stability under such a rule and would therefore not be conducive to finding a peaceful and lasting solution.

I therefore appeal to the Chinese leadership to stop using force and address the long-simmering resentment of the Tibetan people through dialogue with the Tibetan people. I also urge my fellow Tibetans not to resort to violence."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

according to the new york times, protesters were not as peaceful as the dalai lama's statement might suggest, but not everyone has the patience of an enlightened being like the dalai lama.

i don't, at all, agree with violent protest. but, what are we to expect from years and years and years of oppression? what did the chinese government think was going to happen?

the situation in tibet is akin to a pressure cooker and the violence seen this past week is a way of releasing some of the tension there. alas, i'm afraid that the lid has yet to come off . . .

i, for one, will not be tuning in to this year's olympic games.

IKISSTHECOLD,WHITEENVELOPE.IPRESSMYLIPSAGAINSTHERNAME


nothing puts a bigger pep in my step than having my college sports teams win something, except when those wins come AGAINST U$C!!! after getting our collective asses handed to us during the last, i don't know, decade, in football, this little victory really tastes great.

LET'S GO BRUINS!!!

for certain we'll be one of the four #1 seeds in the field of 64 . . . mmm, good times . . .

"3/15/2008, Darren Collison scored 28 points and No. 3 UCLA survived its fourth close call in a week, beating 11th-ranked Stanford 67-64 Saturday to win the Pac-10 tournament title. The Bruins (31-3) used a 22-8 run in the second half to earn their 10th victory in a row and add the title to their third consecutive regular-season crown."

"3/14/2008, Freshman Kevin Love scored 11 points in a 15-2 run to open the second half that propelled No. 3 UCLA to a 57-54 victory over Southern California in the Pac-10 tournament semifinals Friday night. Love had 19 points and 10 rebounds for his 20th double-double in the first postseason meeting between crosstown rivals who've played 225 other times. They split in the regular season. The Bruins (30-3) won their ninth in a row and advanced to Saturday's championship game, where they will play either second-seeded Stanford or third-seeded Washington State."

now, come on, join me in this here eight clap! you know you want to . . .

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fight, fight, fight!

Friday, March 14, 2008

ARUBA,JAMAICA,OOHIWANNATAKEYA. . .


(2008: whittier, ca. tweedle, twaddle, and gigi. tweedle and twaddle are visiting from norden, germany, for three weeks with 15 german students, as part of a student exchange. we've gotten to be great friends in the last month . . . they're wonderful. i even have an invitation to stay in germany with them next year! yay! unfortunately, however, they're leaving this weekend. so, tomorrow morning, saturday, we're off on one final tour of el lay, with special last minute pit stops at the huntington botanical gardens in pasadena and the griffith observatory near hollywood. woo hoo!)


(2008: whittier, ca.)


(2008: whittier, ca. so, as you can see, i volunteered to do a project with the exchange students--a feature/photo news magazine--which was a lot of fun . . . and hard work. there were over 800 photos to sort through and photoshop. plus, there were both english and german stories to edit . . . they were very sweet to thank the news staff and me.)


(2008: whittier, ca. cute, huh?)


(2008: whittier, ca. gerberas, my favorite daisies!)


(2008: whittier, ca.)

FOOLSRUSHINWHEREANGELSFEARTOTREAD


(2008: whittier, ca. the three stooges.)


(2008: whittier, ca.)


(2008: whittier, ca.)


(2008: whittier, ca.)


(2008: whittier, ca. the disk monster.)

never ask kids to do something. especially my kids.

since we'd finished the first leg of next month's newspaper, the kids asked me if they could clean my windows. i said, "sure."

this is what i got . . .

thank god i have freshmen the rest of the day and not seniors . . . i don't think i could take seniors all day.

and the ones who weren't busy window washing, were busy turning my disk box into a monster.

watch out world, here come the future generations of tomorrow!

Thursday, March 13, 2008

SOMEDAY,WHENI'MAWFULLYALONEANDTHEWORLDISCOLD,IWILLFEELAGLOWJUSTHINKINGOFYOU


(2008: whittier, ca.)


(2008: whittier, ca. in the background, one of my kids on staff, the school's resident cartoonist. he's an amazing artist . . . word. someday, i will post a photo of the poster he made for me to recruit kids for next year's news staff; it's off the chain.)


(2008: whittier, ca.)


(2008: whittier, ca.)

i took these pictures, today, in my fifth period. i've had this daisy on my desk since monday, when one of my freshmen, knowing that i love daisies, brought it to me during fourth period. as a gag, we filled up this itty-bitty trophy on my desk with water and used it as a vase (pronounced "vaaaahhhrse").

anyhow, the little thing has lasted all week! can you believe it? so, i decided this afternoon that it deserved a photo. and as i was snapping the shot, my editor-in-chief for next year looked at me and said, "ms. b., what are you going to title that shot?" i thought about it, then as i was about to answer with something totally lame, she volunteered, "the intersection of human and natural achievement."

wow. you know? i mean, yeah, wow.

this is why i love kids. this is why i LOVE my job. shit like that is what makes the pay bearable.

Sunday, March 9, 2008

YOU'VEGOTTEETHFORBITINGANDYOU'VEBOREAHOLEINME








old news, but new to me since i've been in my self-imposed exile: bush vetoed the proposed ban on waterboarding, amongst other forms of torture, including beatings, electrocution, burning, the use of dogs to threaten or realize physical harm, stripping, and forced sexual acts.

wow.

i mean, really, do we actually need a ban on these deplorable, reprehensible, immoral methods of interrogation? how is it possible that we've been able to show our collective face in the international arena for this long, demanding that other nations conduct themselves morally, humanely, according to the laws set forth in the geneva conventions, while we engage in methods of interrogation that would make even the most fervent spanish inquisitors blush?

so, let me get this straight . . . our argument is: if they can, then so can we?

i say again, wow.

fine. great. while we're at it, let's also bring back witch trials. i mean, why not?

we cannot hope to bring our so-called freedom and democracy to the world, unless we bring also our integrity.

bush's actions say to the world we are incapable of being a true leader, for no leader may hope to guide with a broken moral compass.

if we use the terrorist's methods, then are we not also terrorists?

if have not our honesty, our moral fortitude, then we have nothing.

Saturday, March 8, 2008

ICANNOTPROMISEANYOFTHETHINGSIWANTTO,BUTICOULDNOTWANTTHISANYFRAGMENTMORETHANIDO


(2008: la habra, ca.)

still crazy busy.

been at school since early this morning and just got home.

i am hermitting myself.

and yeah, i know, "hermitting" is not a word. but it is now.

i hope to resume my regular blog programming later this month once i whittle down some of my insane work load.

not that the teeming millions are hanging on my every word, or anything, like they are on uncle cecil's . . . i am no "auntie lana" . . . but i do feel slightly guilty when i don't make time to write here.

in any event, y'all, stay above the fray.

(god, i'm such a little whinger, huh?)

IFYOUWALKWITHJESUS,HE'SGONNASAVEYOURSOUL.YOUGOTTAKEEPTHEDEVILWAYDOWNINTHEHOLE


hot from the bear's mouth:

"3/8/2008, Josh Shipp hit a rainbow jumper from behind the backboard with 1.5 seconds remaining to help No. 3 UCLA rally from an 11-point deficit and beat California 81-80 on Saturday. The Bruins' school-record 28th regular-season victory was in jeopardy until the very end. They trailed by four points with 31 seconds remaining, then freshman Kevin Love hit a 3-pointer off an inbounds pass from Darren Collison to make it 80-79."

so, apparently SOME of my prayers to whomever or whatever is "up there" are getting heard, which is great. see below . . . BUT, what about my other prayers, huh? like, my prayer to win the lottery . . . my prayer to wake up with ridiculously sculpted abs . . . to say nothing of my pleas for world peace . . .

guess my students aren't the only ones with selective hearing, eh?

anyway, GO BRUINS!!!

BRING ON THE EIGHT CLAP!!!

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fight, fight, fight!

Thursday, March 6, 2008

LETMEFINISHWATCHINGYOUCHANGELIKEASUNSET


(1991: san jose, costa rica. left to right: my three cousins on my mom's side and me.)


(1991: san jose, costa rica. left to right: my aunt (also on my mom's side) and my three cousins, again.)

gosh, this past month has been a total trip down memory lane. first, i got copies of my nephew's bar mitzvah photos and now, just this morning, i got an email from my cousin who said she found the two photos above.

i was so ecstatic when i received these because, as i was telling her, i have NO pictures from my quinceanera (latin version of a debutante ball--sans the obscene amounts of cash). what a delightful surprise . . .

Sunday, March 2, 2008

SHEWOREARASPBERRYBERET


i haven't been posting as much lately because i've been SWAMPED. here's a short laundry list: wrapping up school work at LMU . . . redesigning the school paper . . . moving classrooms . . . applying for sophomore course lead . . . dealing with personal drama . . . blah, blah, blah.

but i do want to take a moment to formally congratulate my dear friend, jz, on finishing his book!!! OMG! it's been about ten years in the making and now it's done!

MAZEL TOV, DARLING!

i'll be the annoying latina wearing the "i love jz (not the rapper)" t-shirts at all of your book signings . . .

congratulations!!!

THEFREAKSCOMEOUTATNIGHT


READ THIS:

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FULLERTON, CA: Two people were stabbed at a Fullerton movie house during the screening of a horror film on Sunday night. Police are still searching for the suspect.

The victims, who reportedly did not know each other, were sitting in separate areas of the same theater when they were attacked around 7:30 p.m. at the AMC Theater on Lemon St., Fullerton police Sgt. Eric Halverson said.

The stabbings took place approximately 45 minutes into the showing of "The Signal," an R-rated suspense/horror film. The suspect, who was described as a white male, fled out of one of the back doors, he said.

"The suspect is still outstanding," Fullerton police Sgt. Jason Schoen said early Tuesday.

The assailant was described as a heavy set white man in his late to mid 20s, 5 feet 10 inches tall, with black hair.

Investigators reviewed surveillance tape from the theater but the video was of poor quality, Schoen said.

One of the victims was hospitalized with a stab wound to the arm, which also punctured one of his lungs, but he was expected to survive, Schoen said.

The other victim suffered a non-life threatening stab wound to the arm, he added.

The victims did not know each other or the attacker, he said.

Police believe the attacker may be the same individual who had been kicked out of the theater that same day--an intoxicated man who was very disruptive during a movie, Schoen said.

"We believe he (the assailant) is the same subject that had been removed from the theater earlier that day," Schoen said. "We're not positive but there are similarities in the descriptions of the subjects."

Anyone with information on the attacks was asked to call the Fullerton Police Department at (714) 738-6800.

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OMG! when i read this, i really wanted NOT to laugh. but how can you not?

i mean, as a scary movie watcher (see post before last), this actually IS scary. and, i mean, it's not intentionally funny, but can you fucking imagine what the dialogue was like in that theater?

"he's got a knife! help! help! help!"

"dude, not funny. just watch the movie!"

"ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! he's stabbing me!"

"come on, shut up! you're NOT amusing!"

sweet lord, this is why i'm going to grow up and become a hermit.

wait, what? i'm already a hermit? (no comments, vic, or our engagement is off and you'll still have to put out!)

on a more sober note, i really am happy that no one was seriously hurt and i hope all of the victims make a speedy recovery.

Thursday, February 28, 2008

IAMWALKINGTHROUGHROMEWITHMYHEARTONASTRING


i don't know if it's just the frame of mind i've been in lately or what, but . . .

i was watching tv and an olive garden commercial came on . . . a couple sits at a table, dinner a deux. the waitress arrives and asks them if they're there on a special occasion, going so far as to list possible situations.

"are you here celebrating an anniversary? a birthday? a promotion?"

now, why don't people ever approach ME and ask me stupid fucking questions like that, huh?

are you joking?

AN ANNIVERSARY?!?!

now, i hate to sound like an elitist bitch, but olive garden is hardly where one goes to celebrate life's major milestones.

it's not like it's urasawa, cut, melisse, matsuhisa, or saddle peak lodge!

it's olive garden.

i go there to celebrate a good manicure, a recent car wash, or picking up my dry cleaning . . .

shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit (courtesy clay davis from "the wire").

Sunday, February 24, 2008

IWISHTHATIHADJESSIE'SGIRL


i like scary movies. a lot.

and when i say “scary” films, i mean scary films, not horror movies.

i can’t stand horror flicks. tits, guts, more tits, more guts. no, thanks.

i’m talking about movies that tap into the supernatural, like “the exorcist”, “the omen”, “rosemary’s baby”, and more recently, "stigmata" and “the exorcism of emily rose” . . .

why? well, because it appeals to the catholic in me (the recovering catholic, that is) and, too, in my family we have a long tradition of scaring the buhjesus out of each other.

i was thinking about this last night as i tried to watch what turned out to be a very disappointing scary movie called “an american haunting”. it was laughable. as a matter of fact, i mostly laughed. the scene, for example, where the young heroine gets slapped in the face by a poltergeist is downright hilarious.

looking back, maybe best buy mistakenly put it under “horror” when, in fact, they meant to put it under “comedy” . . .

but i digress.

so much of who i am today is directly related to my childhood experiences. i think this is true for most people . . .

see, when i was a kid, nothing brought my three older brothers more profound, unadulterated bliss than seeing me cry hysterically at the end of one of their complex, meticulously planned, drawn-out scare schemes.

the worst plot, or rather, the best, however, was actually the impromptu work of the youngest of the three, my brother moe.

i was eight and moe was eighteen. moe, had unluckily plucked the short straw and been left to babysit me on a friday night in the middle of what was, at the time, the largest manhunt in california history.

the man for whom authorities were frantically searching was richard ramirez, also known as, “the night stalker”.

in 1985, richard ramirez, was (is. he’s still awaiting execution in san quentin) the worst serial killer america had seen since maybe “the son of sam”, david berkowitz. according to a bio of ramirez on wiki, ramirez killed as many as 15 people throughout california, victimizing as many as 25-30 in both california and other states in the southwest. he was caught on august 31, 1985, one day after the police released his photograph to local media, when he made the mistake of trying to steal a latino man’s car.

i mean, fucking hello? everyone knows you don’t fuck with a latino man’s car.

shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit (you people MUST watch "the wire". like, NOW!).

especially a latino man in the middle of working on his car during a weekend . . .

apparently, ramirez got knocked-dafuck-out when the latino man and his neighbor took a steel pipe to his head.

for weeks prior to his arrest, my family and i had been glued to the television, terrified by a map of where the night stalker had struck. i remember my father going around to every window and every door each night and methodically checking and rechecking each one to make certain everything was securely locked. my mother, a fervent catholic latina, would follow behind him, blessing the house with holy water, rosary in hand, chanting hail marys and our fathers, and making the sign of the cross in front of every opening. even my brothers took precautionary measures, namely, tucking loaded .45s under their pillows . . .

about a week before moe had been forced to watch me, ramirez had been spotted in burbank, just ten minutes away from our house.

that friday night, august 30th, one day before ramirez would be taken in to custody, moe spontaneously hatched his own sadistic plot.

it was close to bedtime and having showered, moe ordered me to put on pjs and brush my teeth while he went to the corner liquor store to buy himself a gatorade. as he walked out the door, moe claims to have muttered to me something about locking the door behind him.

i, busy singing “like a virgin” into my toothbrush, didn’t hear him.

to be fair, this wasn’t the first time i’d left the door to our house unlocked. i did it all the time. and it wasn’t just the house i’d forget to key, but also the front gate . . . hell, all gates . . . cars, peanut butter jars, mayonnaise containers, you name it. generally speaking, i was and still am really bad about locking things up.

and moe had apparently had enough . . .

teeth sparkling and fresh, i went to my bedroom, pulled out my rainbow brite pjs and skipped back down the hallway to the bathroom. closing the door, i began putting on my nightgown.

i was in the middle of “touched for the very first time . . .” when i heard the front door slam open.

“moe?” i called.

no response.

it must be moe, i thought . . .

“like a virgin, feels so good inside . . .” i sang, now having picked up my hairbrush.

as i made what i believed to be my best virginal face into the mirror, i caught the flicker of the brass door knob turning. fortunately, however, this door i HAD locked.

“mooooooeeeeeee, is that you?” i said again.

nothing.

then, i heard footsteps shuffling outside the bathroom door. floor boards creaking, i saw a large shadow in the door’s frame.

i crouched down on the tile, cheek on the cool surface, and peered beneath the door. there, i made out, in the dimly lit corridor, a pair of large, male sneakers.

backing away from the door, i called once more, “moe? is that you? it’s not funny. tell me if it’s you! i’m going to tell papi that you’re scaring me . . .”

i scooted myself back against the wall opposite the door, terrified.

the knob began turning once more.

slowly, then harder, more vigorously, then, finally, outright violently . . .

one rapid, rabid turn after another.

BANG, BANG, BANG!

i became paralyzed, certain it was the night stalker coming to rape and murder me.

the door shook with such force that i was sure it would come clean off its hinges.

“stop it, stop it, stop it!” i tried screaming, my voiced drowned out by panic and fright.

the vicious shaking continued . . .

i stood up, determined not to become ramirez’s next victim, and opened the small bathroom window, pushing out the screen. climbing on the sink, i leveraged myself onto the window’s frame and tried to squeeze out the impossibly diminutive aperture.

fuck you, shakira! damn these latin hips!

i managed to push myself only halfway out the window, when i heard the door give way and felt two hands seize a leg. i kicked furiously with my free leg and tried to hold onto the outside of the house with my small, eight-year-old arms.

sobbing, i was unable to yell for help. i was being dragged in and there was nothing i could do.

my nails scrapped against the stucco . . .

then, i heard a familiar laugh. “it’s me, you moron!” the voice cried in between breathless chortles.

“it’s me, moe!”

i continued to kick, too scared to process what had just been said.

“IT’S ME, MOE!” the voice kept shouting.

“oh, you muthafucking, sick, twisted piece of shit,” i would have said had i had then the extensively profane vocabulary i possess now. instead, i melted into a puddle of tears.

i was beside myself.

moe was beside himself, too, falling down on the ground next to me in a fit of diabolical laughter.

(he told me, years later, that his abs hurt for about a week after the prank.)

i made the silent cry. you know what i’m talking about: when you’re crying so hard that you haven’t any breath and all you can do is open your mouth, voice mute, face in full wretched glower.

then i blacked out.

when i came to, moe apologized profusely, smirk now gone from his face. i’d like to think that he was genuinely sorry, but i think he was just hoping i wouldn’t tell our dad what he’d done. but there wasn’t any need to confess to my father because when he and my mom came home several hours later, and as was customary my dad came in to kiss me good night, i was still breathlessly sniffling and snorting in my sleep.

there was no hiding . . .

in addition to a serious beat down, i think moe was also grounded for something like a month.

thankfully, no real permanent damage was done to me (much).

what’s more, the following night, richard ramirez was off the streets.

now thirty, with larry, curly, and moe all in their forties, married, and moved away, i long for those days . . . sitting here, staring at my extensive collection of scary movies, i realize it’s not so much the scare i seek by watching these films, but rather a time when the only thing scarier than the night stalker or ghosts or the devil, himself, or my brothers pretending to be any one of those, was the thought of growing up and losing the closeness we shared living together as kids, as family, under one roof.

Saturday, February 16, 2008

BETTERISONEDAY


when i first decided to teach, i knew i wanted to teach high school (ages 14-18). with my personality, there wasn't any way that i could work with elementary (ages 5-11) or junior high (ages 12-13) kids.

i tried, though, to work with the little rugrats, but i just couldn't take it. perhaps i'm just not "motherly" enough, gooey enough, patient enough . . .

one tyke would walk in with a particularly dour face after forcibly being corralled back into the classroom after recess or lunch and so, trying to be the good teacher, i'd ask what was wrong.

shoulder shrug.

no, really, kid, what's the matter? are you, ok?

floor stare, another shoulder shrug, followed by "nuthin'" or "i dunno".

sweet jesu!

high school students, on the other hand, i hardly EVER have to prod for information. usually, they'll voluntarily spill their guts about every little detail about their lives. for the most part, it's great. sometimes i get too much information. and i always warn them not to tell me things that they don't want to get back to child protective services (i'm a mandatory reporter).

the great thing, barring the cases where i've had to report child abuse, is that my students and i have this ongoing communication. we talk about almost everything . . . not only academics (i LOVE discussing and explicating literature!), but also life, as a whole.

well, yesterday, one of my students, a senior, (we'll call him john) came into my class looking as though the universe itself was resting on his shoulders . . .

i was still eating my lunch . . . "hey! what's up, john? what's shakin'? whaddya know?"

peeking in the door, "umm, you mind if i sit in here and do some reading? it's really loud outside."

chewing on a tomato on rye sandwich, easy mayo, "sure, no problem. whatcha' reading?"

serious face, "'crime and punishment'."

swallowing said tomato on rye, "oh, some light reading."

still serious, looking down at book, "yeah, that's it, ms. b."

going in for another bite, "ouch! no laugh, john? no pity smirk, even?"

john, not even slightly amused. silence . . .

now, likewise serious, "you ok?"

hesitation, "yeah, i'm ok." long pause, "well, i just have a lot on my mind."

curious, "about what? dostoevsky?"

quietly, shyly, soberly, "well, i'm just thinking about life."

trying to break the obvious tension, "'just', eh, john? yeah, well, babe, dostoevsky will do that to ya."

unsmiling, "no, not him. not the book. i mean LIFE. like religion, god, spirituality."

nervous, a bit panicked, but not letting on, "oh. wow."

daunted look, "yeah, i know."

poker face. calmly, humorously, "wow. uh, ok. let me finish my peach and recharge my synapses, then we'll see what we can do."

not very convinced, "ok, ms. b."

bell rings. fifth period about to begin, news staff rips through the door, walking in like a herd of pamplona bulls.

"oh my god! ms. b., did you read that article on the saudi woman who might be executed for witchcraft? it's total insanity over there!"

"yes, i did read about her. why don't all of you put up everything that you want to talk about on the board and start hashing out the next issue. i'm going to get some water for a second."

i wink at john, nod towards the door. he gets up, follows me.

outside my classroom, "so, talk to me. what's up?"

"did my girlfriend last year ever talk to you about our problem?"

"she and i talked about a lot of things, john. anything in particular?"

"well, yeah."

"what?"

"you know i'm an atheist, right?"

"i figured you had some questions . . ."

"it's just that jane (not her real name) is christian."

"uh huh . . ."

"and i feel confused about religion. i don't think there is a god. if jane and i get married and have kids, what will we teach them?

"you'll teach them what's right."

"yes, but what is correct and what is the best way?"

"what is correct is the best way. and actually, if we're being perfectly honest, there is no 'best way', i don't think."

confused, "what do you mean?"

unsure. a little perplexed myself, "if what is correct, john, is treating yourself, everyone around you, and the environment well . . . being honest, courageous, patient, merciful, forgiving . . . if all of that is correct, then it is also, very probably, the best way. one of them, at any rate. i don't think that they are mutually exclusive."

"jane thinks that organized religion is the best thing for kids. that they need structure so that someday, when we're not around, they may be guided by those principles, that church, or temple, or whatever. that though being all those things you say is correct, it is not the best way because it is a) unpopular to have no belief in a god and b) there is a great benefit to be had from having the fellowship of a church."

"that may be. i don't know."

"what do you think?"

"i think it's more unpopular to be cruel and be a part of an organized religion than to be good and not be a part of a religious institution."

smile . . .

"well, if you're asking me my opinion, then i think that everything i just said about caring for yourself and others and the world, honesty, courage, etc., that those things comprise a structure and a fellowship too. i was raised catholic. i'm not catholic anymore, though . . . my dad is dead and my mom is a world away. when i need moral guidance i look back at my mother's and my father's examples, which aren't necessarily about organized religion. i ask myself, were they honest? were they kind? were they generous? were they patient? were they forgiving? yes. ok, well, then there's my example. were they that way as a result of being christian? perhaps. you are those things without having had any religious influence from your parents. that's something to think about. i also get such guidance from reading . . . from christian texts, but also jewish, also buddhist, also scientific . . . you don't necessarily have to have organized religion in order to read about, understand, or even practice the teachings that stem from them. what's more, good fellowship doesn't solely flow from churches, synagogues, and temples. i find that good fellowship with good people can be had almost anywhere. you can surround yourself with good people, if you yourself are good and discerning."

breath, continuing, "furthermore, john, let's say you do give your children organized religion, there is no telling what they will do."

crying . . .

"john, darling, first, stop worrying. you can continue to meditate on this, but worrying is useless. as the dalai lama teaches, if there is a problem and it has a solution, then do not worry for it will be solved. if there is a problem and it has no solution, then do not worry, for there is nothing to do. secondly, if it were me, i would talk with jane and find out why she believes what she believes. is it just conformity or does she perceive some real, greater benefit from organized religion."

"what if she says that she just has faith in jesus and that that's why she wants our kids to be christian."

"faith can be beautiful, john! faith can be a gift. if she says that, john, then that may very well be a great and wonderful thing. listen, it's not like she's placing faith in some sort of religion or cult that believes in hurting others or that is contrary to your own beliefs in honesty, caring, generosity, and all that. she's not asking to raise your kids in some satanic cult, right?"

"yeah."

"ok, well, then if you both believe in everything we've talked about--caring about people and all the rest--then why should you begrudge her her desire to be a part of christianity? there is nothing to be lost from having faith in that and potentially, much, much, much to be gained. later on, when your kids get older, you can sit down and discuss your views together. that would be ok, no?"

pause.

"though, a warning, john . . . it won't be easy for the two of you. you will have to stay on top of communicating and compromising. will she resent you not going to church? will you resent her going to it? what will you say when the children inevitably ask why you don't attend services with them? there are many potential problems. you will have to consider them, work through them together, make compromises . . . the rose-colored glasses will definitely have to come off."

we both sigh.

"ms. b., do you think i'm going to go to hell?"

"gosh, no! i don't, john, i really don't. if there's such a thing, babe, you won't ever be in it."

more deep sighs.

"i don't know if any of this that i am telling you is right or not, john, they're all just my personal beliefs. and maybe they'll change, maybe they won't, but right now, i think that if i treat myself and others right, love them, care for them, am honest, am kind, am generous, and so on . . . then i don't think that any self-respecting god, if there is one, would shun me from paradise on this alone. and if so, it's no god i want to believe in anyway. but that's me. you have to think about this, talk with jane, and ultimately decide for yourself. go talk with her church's elders, go talk with other people, other religious leaders, your parents, other teachers . . . ask more questions, many more, read more, much more . . ."

bell rings . . .

Friday, February 15, 2008

PUTONMYBLUESUEDESHOESANDIBOARDEDTHEPLANE

my nephew recently had his bar mitzvah (mazel tov!) and he had an adorable video montage . . . since i can't post a copy, here are some of the pictures from it, as well as a couple that i temporarily stole from my brother's archives so that i could put on here.

good times . . .


(1994: north hollywood, ca. no, that's not a peanut, that's my nephew and that's me.)


(1996: van nuys, ca. varsity cheerleading shot. when my student's saw this photo, the consensus was that i was a "chola" in high school . . . ha!)


(1996: kapa'a, kaua'i, hi. on vacation after my high school graduation. i look like a boy with short hair . . . and my nephew, well, he doesn't look very happy either.)


(circa 1997: puntarenas, punta leona, costa rica. my brother, moe, there in the back (that's his noggin) and my nephew, body boarding at the beach in front of my mom's house on costa rica's central pacific ocean. and if that look on my nephew's face doesn't scream "utter bliss!", then i don't know what does! this is my favorite picture ever.)


(circa 1997: arenal (volcano), costa rica. nephew at hotel tabacon's thermal pools. isn't he delicious? look at those curls! and that face!)


(not sure when this was. not too far back. in laughlin, nevada, with my girlfriends . . .)


(not sure about the date on this one, either, but a bit, is my guess.)

Thursday, February 14, 2008

WATERLOOSUNSETSFINE


"For Laura"

All the black spaces
falling lines
and frailties,
as real in your eyes
as the veins inside.

You know them, you hold them,
they are safe in your hands
because you, too,
do not hold glass to the light
to see its imperfections.

You know in your eyes,
in the spaces between pictures,
most gardens are tended
by disappointed men.

Leaves show their colours
in their frailty, in veins
and in life so often
long and listless,
grey and best forgotten.

You and I, in your eyes,
we will leave no mark
on the glass,
we will not wonder
from where the song came.

EAJ

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

IONCEUSEDTOCHASEAFFECTIONWITHDRAWN,BUTNOWIJUSTSITBACKANDYAWN


i'm at lmu right now. and yeah, it's about as exciting as it sounds. class (a course on special education law) starts at 7pm. so, am killing a bit of time.

now, i hate to be a total whinger, buuuuuuuuuuuuuut i am so tired. i really don't want to be here. however, at $3K a pop, i figure that i should probably show up, even if i am not actually "here".

i was at work saturday (allllllll day), sunday(allllllll day), AND monday (allllllll day, even though it was a holiday). it's been a long string of work days with no play in between and i don't fare well without at least a little play time.

(yes, welcome to the pity party. let me take your coat. there are hors d'œuvres on the table . . . help yourself.)

i had to move classrooms (pictures coming forthwith) this weekend . . . and then there was the chernobyl-style meltdown i had last night when i lost the ENTIRE file for this month's newspaper. yeah.

i need a drink. several, in fact. stiff. very stiff.

anyhow, i've got two posts now that i'm itching to put up, but haven't had the time. one's on my newly favorite documentary (it's with the dalai lama) and the second is on my outing (if you can call it that) to see "smuckers on ice" at the honda center (no, that's not a joke) with my shiny, new friend, whom we're going to call "snow white". why "snow white", you ask? because it's my blog and i'll nickname people whatever i want. that's why!

where's that drink . . .

Monday, February 11, 2008

WHOA,BLACKBETTY!BAM-A-LAM


i love people.

last week i was assigned to be a mentor for a student teacher from a local college and one of the very first questions she asked me was, "why do you love teaching?" actually, the very first question was, "DO YOU like teaching?"

frankly, i wasn't sure how to answer.

i mean, my gut answer, the immediate reply that came to mind, and also the truest, which i gave to her, was, "i LOVE teaching!"

but what did that MEAN? why? WHY do i love teaching?

to be clear, i DO love teaching. i just never really delineated the reasons (for myself or for others) with any real precision . . .

the rumor is that anyone who teaches does so because they can't do anything else with their life or simply wants a flexible schedule. well, where i am concerned, allow me to dispel both of those suppositions. perhaps they are true of some teachers, just not THIS one.

for the record, mama didn't raise no fool. i graduated from ucla with a BA in english literature. i had a 3.867 GPA in the major and would have had latin honors (summa cum laude), except that, due to some bureaucratic ineptitude on ucla's part, my application was rejected.

what is more, anyone who actually believes that teachers work a 40 hour week for 9 months and that's it is the real fool. i easily put in something closer to 70 hours or more every week and teach summer school. this is in addition to graduate education classes and certification . . .

as i think about it, i teach for many, many, many reasons. too numerous to name them all, but there are some worth mentioning/explaining:

i love learning.

i think that part of the reason i teach is that i have so much that i want to share . . . the reality is, though, that i learn more, i am sure, from my kids, than they learn from me. word.

my students never cease to amaze me with how much they already know. they are wondrous, those gangly, awkward teenagers.

i love reading.

it's true. i'm a self-professed book whore. what better profession for me than one in which i GET PAID to read? woo hoo! fact is, i should probably pay them!

wait.

let's not get carried away . . .

where was i? oh, yes, reading. i love it. i always have. this is, maybe, something innate, though it's more likely that it was cultivated in me by my wonderful mother, who may have lacked money for nice clothes or a proper car, but never for books. we were poor, to be sure, growing up, but no one would have ever guessed it from looking at our library.

i love writing.

omg, is there anything better? and not that i'm deluded or anything . . . i know i'm not a good writer, not by any stretch of the imagination, but i love it anyway. it's the whole creative process that turns me on. i have a portfolio (i use the term loosely) of poetry and other writings, as well as art . . .

(it's dawning on me that i talk about reading and writing in somewhat sexual terms . . . hmmm. remind me to discuss that later in it's own little post.)

i have "peter pan syndrome". if you can't tell that i'm just a giant kid, then you can't read very well and should probably . . . actually, definitely . . . have your eyes checked.

hurry. go now!

i don't take anything too seriously. least of all me.

and yeah, ok, fine, the schedule IS nice.

but the bottom line? people. i love people.

i am a people person. this is a career that affords me the privilege . . . the honor . . . of being a part of so many people's lives. wow. what a tremendous gift and responsibiity. i am both humbled and awed by the trust that parents put in their children's teachers, in me . . .

i love that i get to work with these remarkable creatures, human beings . . . and that sometimes i get to help, get to show them something new, get to learn something for the first time WITH them, get to listen, get to inspire, get to laugh, get to discuss, get to cry, get to create, get to challenge . . .

there are days, i won't lie, that i think i don't get paid enough, that i get upset that others don't value the work that i and others like me do . . . but they are few and far between . . . easily swept away by a kid who, as he runs out of my class, says, "that story was cool, ms. b. i learned a lot about . . ."

people. yeah. i love them.

Friday, February 8, 2008

SOMEPEOPLECALLMETHEGANGSTEROFLOVE


straight off the bruin presses:

"2/7/08, Collison Leads Second Half Resurgence, Bruins Top Cougars: Darren Collison scored all of his 18 points in the decisive second half and freshman Kevin Love added 16 points and nine rebounds to lead No. 5 UCLA to a rugged 67-59 victory over reeling No. 17 Washington State on Thursday night."

apparently, i'm wrong.

apparently, there IS a god.

a basketball god . . . but still . . .

gotta give up the eight-clap:

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

u

c

lllllllllllllllllllllllll

aaaaaaay

u

c

l

a

fight, fight, fight!

Thursday, February 7, 2008

WEMADEAPROMISEWESWOREWE'DALWAYSREMEMBER. . .NORETREAT,NOSURRENDER


webmd is a joke.

i used their "symptom checker" and this is what it said:

(NOT making this up)

a) i might have the flu
b) i might have a sinus infection
c) i might have leukemia

so, basically, what i am hearing is, "well, ms. b., it might be nothing, OR it might be DEATH!"

excellent resource.

fuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

i'm so frustrated. going on something like 3 weeks of head/chest cold. i have about 3 days of antibiotics left and don't feel even remotely better . . .

sheesh!

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

YEAH,YOUSHOOKME.YEAH,YOUSHOOKMEALLNIGHTLONG


so, i've been asked, "why obama?"

here's the short version:

i was initially for clinton, though truth be told, there really isn't much of a difference between clinton and obama in terms of policy. yeah, i know, shocker! at first, however, clinton seemed to have a little more interest in fighting poverty and economic equality (two things, which i firmly believe are nearly always at the heart of almost every conflict) than obama. i thought she seemed more genuine, at least in that respect.

and yes, i get that clinton . . . and obama, and every other candidate . . . they're all part of the same dog and pony show . . .

but in the last several months, i think obama has really struck a chord in the american people. as people have been saying, he has ignited a lust to dream, awakened in us a desire to believe. or if you prefer, he's given us that old JFK feeling. (so i hear, since JFK was before my time!)

we're past the sex and race issues, i think. all that talk that if obama wins it'll be because he's black and that if clinton wins it'll be because she's a woman is total bollocks. the fact that the race is between them is actually the best evidence that all such jibber-jabber is moot.

and there are differences, however slight . . .

as for the theory that a black president won't survive, that's just the kkk's wet dream and wholly unworthy of firing our synapses. so, let's just fuggedaboudit.

for me, obamamania is alive and well. the man's got that je ne sais quoi, that bit of magic that makes me think he'll be a much more formidable opponent for mccain, than clinton. he just might, people, have the ability that clinton lacks, to create an unstoppable wave.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008

SHE'SOHIGHABOVEME,SHE'SSOLOVELY


goat's milk=good cheese.

goat's milk=bad body lotion.

now, listen, I KNOW that i'm not in any sort of position to be judging others, but . . . i just got back from the voting station and there was this lady in line whose personal scent very nearly made me vomit.

seriously.

i could tell that it wasn't BO, though, that it was something else. it had to be something that she'd put on. so, i asked. I HAD TO.

"umm, m'am, may i ask, what is that you're wearing?"

and then she said, "goat's milk body lotion."

and then i waited for her to toss her head back and laugh and say "just kidding".

and i waited.

and i waited . . .

she WASN'T kidding.

"oh, it's lovely," i lied.

"thank you. i know it sounds a little unorthodox, but it makes my skin super silky," she offered, perhaps sensing my insincerity and disgust.

i didn't reply, but rather nodded and made what i am sure was an unpleasant, unforgiving face that said, "i've heard that elephant feces does the same thing, but you don't see ME running to sephora to pick some up, lady."

"unorthodox"? goat's milk body lotion? are you for real?

s&m, my friends, is unorthodox.

goat's milk body lotion is just plain gross.

and yeah, i know . . . i'm mean and i'm going to hell.

but hey, at least i don't smell like expired dairy.

INTHEVALLEYOFTHETHUNDERINGHEARTS


it's super tuesday.

when i told my kids that in second period today, one of them (you know exactly WHICH one, too, because you were probably the same kid when you were in high school) said, "super because i'm here, right, ms. banana?"

yeah, kid, right.

still not 100% yet, but nevertheless i'm off to vote in the primary!

can you figure out for whom i'm voting?

Sunday, February 3, 2008

LITTLEPINKHOUSESFORYOUANDME


apparently i am somewhere between gandhi, the dalai lama, and nelson mandela . . .

funny, if you realized that i grew up in a household that worshipped ronald reagan and gave one of its sons to the military.

maybe my brothers weren't kidding . . . maybe i WAS adopted.

if you want to find out where YOU stand politically, check out: http://www.politicalcompass.org

IJUSTWONDERWHATYOUDOTHEREINBACKOFYOURPINKCADILLAC


whoever said "it never rains in southern california" was a disgusting liar.

but that's ok.

i love rain.

i love water.

i love inclement weather.

it appeals to my inner melancholy.

feeling slightly better this morning, though i fear my brain won't be back for several more days (yeah, yeah, no comments from the peanut gallery, thank you, who right now are questioning whether my brain was ever really "here" to begin with). i have something i desperately want to write about, but it'll have to wait just a bit longer . . .

Friday, February 1, 2008

JUSTDOYOURBESTANDDON'T. . .DON'TWORRY


i am an incubus of viral plague at the moment, which is why i haven't really been posting. (ha! like this matters to anyone!)

i'd been fighting off the flu for two weeks, when finally i started feeling better for a few days last week . . . and then, BAM! i got slammed with a sinus infection.

i saw my doctor yesterday. (good god, he's hot. and i looked like crap. nice. talk about adding insult to injury!)

i'm on meds now. if my posts sound weirder than usual, blame it on the drugs.

to self: coco, coco, coco . . . (see previous post.)