UGH! San Antonio is so boring! And I really mean it, too...
Since my last blog, I have watched an entire season of Ugly Betty. This does not bode well for "training myself" for Peru.
On Saturday, one of my best friends from home, Sarah, and I went to La Cantera, where she did a job application for Anthropologie. Oddly enough, I applied to work there two summers ago, but now it makes perfect sense to me that they wouldn't hire me, because the people working there are quite glamorous and I can't really picture myself working there anyhow. Sarah, I think, has a much better shot at it. =) Anyway, I had a lot of fun hanging out with her, especially afterwards, when we went to play tennis at the courts in the park and then danced BF/ played the accordion at my house.
Also, I reserved a bed at my first hostel in Peru. On the upside, it's about a hundred meters from the beach, and it has a ninety-three percent approval rating based on over three hundred responses. On the downside, it's a hostel. At least I'll get to meet people, though.
As today was memorial day, I went to my family's house for some barbecue and cake. Originally planned was a blowout, but as it turns out, it was much smaller, I think due to illnesses and the like. Both my brother and sister was there, and it was nic to see them. Alfred has lost a lot of weight (I almost couldn't believe it when I saw him) and Emily is having boy trouble..?! How do these things happen?
I can't wait for June 10th. It feels so far away, especially when I think about the course of the week. This whole business of having long stretches of boredom, punctuated by occassional moments of fun, is quite draining. Summer's nice, but I'm ready for Yale now. No, that's not right... I'm ready for an adventure. Peru. Honduras or Mexico City? It'll all happen soon enough, or at least I'll keep telling myself so. Till then, though, I'll make do.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Homecoming, Or the Story About Saenz the Witch
There are some clear signs that tell me I am home. The giant size of the drinks. The lack of an internet connection. The huge spaces between buildings. The way the sky looks so big. The way everything is advertised using the word "Aztec" - Aztec Bakery, Aztec Ballroom, Aztec Barbers, and, next door, Aztec Auto Upholstery.
There are also signs that tell me that I've been away. These signs are more subtle. There aren't any new buildings, really, and the buses still squeak and they still haven't fixed the highway. But I can tell that I've been away because surrounding me is everyone else's sense of urgency. They all seem eager to tell me something, probably because they know that I'm only going to be here for a little while. My sister has made sure that I see that she's doing better at her new high school (and I'm glad). My dad wants to show off the yearbook he's been working on at school.
And then there's my grandma, who's perhaps most eager of all to communicate.
Today at lunch, she, my mom and I were eating barbecue. My mom was talking about some book she had just read, I can't even remember what it was, when my grandmother interrupted her.
"So you like mystery stories?" she said.
"Well, not really," my mom said. "It's more like a drama."
My grandma ignored her and told her own story.
Her father had two wives. This was a fact that I had always known, because I knew that my grandmother had her brothers and sisters, and also had some stepbrothers and stepsisters besides. I never knew much about the other woman before. But apparently, that other woman, the first wife, was a witch.
My grandmother has forgotten this witch's first name, but her last name was Saenz. My great-grandfather and this witch lived in the same town, and when the witch decided that she wanted a baby, she put one of her spells in my great-grandfather's drink. The day after she cast her spell, they were married.
Together they had several children. But despite the witch's original desire to be with my great-grandfather, she was not a faithful wife. While he was away, she would sit in front of the house and put spells on the passers by, and they would come into the house with her. My own grandma was rather vague about their activities, but she said that the witch's main interest was in playing these men for their money. She would enchant them, take their cash, and then let them go.
Eventually, word got back to my great-grandfather of what was going on. When he found out that his wife had been casting her spells on random men, he was devastated. At the same time, however, my great-grandmother had just arrived in town, and he immediately thought of her as the woman he would rather be with than the unfaithful witch.
He had legal issues, though. A divorce was not nearly as easy to come by those days as in these. So my great-grandfather sought the legal council of a lawyer. The lawyer recognized her brand of sorcery for what it was. "She's got you under a spell," he supposedly says, "but even worse, she's got you under the law."
But the lawyer had a recommendation. "Get out of here," he said, "to another state, and take that other girl with you. When you come back everything will be alright."
My great-grandfather didn't know where to go, but he figured he would take his advice. So he left his small town in northern Mexico and traveled with the woman that he wanted to be his new wife all the way up to Michigan. They didn't stay long; they just went to look. But when they came back to their hometown, the witch was dead.
"And thank goodness," my own grandmother said.
"Yeah, thank goodness," added my mom, who started on a magical narration of her own.
They went on like this for a while. Of course, both of them had probably heard each other's stories a number of times, but I think that they were telling them for my benefit. It's as if they want to make sure that I know these things before it's too late. After all, my grandma insisted that I keep thinking about the witch, telling me, "someone should really write this down." At least it's here; for now this is the best I can do.
There are also signs that tell me that I've been away. These signs are more subtle. There aren't any new buildings, really, and the buses still squeak and they still haven't fixed the highway. But I can tell that I've been away because surrounding me is everyone else's sense of urgency. They all seem eager to tell me something, probably because they know that I'm only going to be here for a little while. My sister has made sure that I see that she's doing better at her new high school (and I'm glad). My dad wants to show off the yearbook he's been working on at school.
And then there's my grandma, who's perhaps most eager of all to communicate.
Today at lunch, she, my mom and I were eating barbecue. My mom was talking about some book she had just read, I can't even remember what it was, when my grandmother interrupted her.
"So you like mystery stories?" she said.
"Well, not really," my mom said. "It's more like a drama."
My grandma ignored her and told her own story.
Her father had two wives. This was a fact that I had always known, because I knew that my grandmother had her brothers and sisters, and also had some stepbrothers and stepsisters besides. I never knew much about the other woman before. But apparently, that other woman, the first wife, was a witch.
My grandmother has forgotten this witch's first name, but her last name was Saenz. My great-grandfather and this witch lived in the same town, and when the witch decided that she wanted a baby, she put one of her spells in my great-grandfather's drink. The day after she cast her spell, they were married.
Together they had several children. But despite the witch's original desire to be with my great-grandfather, she was not a faithful wife. While he was away, she would sit in front of the house and put spells on the passers by, and they would come into the house with her. My own grandma was rather vague about their activities, but she said that the witch's main interest was in playing these men for their money. She would enchant them, take their cash, and then let them go.
Eventually, word got back to my great-grandfather of what was going on. When he found out that his wife had been casting her spells on random men, he was devastated. At the same time, however, my great-grandmother had just arrived in town, and he immediately thought of her as the woman he would rather be with than the unfaithful witch.
He had legal issues, though. A divorce was not nearly as easy to come by those days as in these. So my great-grandfather sought the legal council of a lawyer. The lawyer recognized her brand of sorcery for what it was. "She's got you under a spell," he supposedly says, "but even worse, she's got you under the law."
But the lawyer had a recommendation. "Get out of here," he said, "to another state, and take that other girl with you. When you come back everything will be alright."
My great-grandfather didn't know where to go, but he figured he would take his advice. So he left his small town in northern Mexico and traveled with the woman that he wanted to be his new wife all the way up to Michigan. They didn't stay long; they just went to look. But when they came back to their hometown, the witch was dead.
"And thank goodness," my own grandmother said.
"Yeah, thank goodness," added my mom, who started on a magical narration of her own.
They went on like this for a while. Of course, both of them had probably heard each other's stories a number of times, but I think that they were telling them for my benefit. It's as if they want to make sure that I know these things before it's too late. After all, my grandma insisted that I keep thinking about the witch, telling me, "someone should really write this down." At least it's here; for now this is the best I can do.
Monday, May 11, 2009
The Pleasures of Planning
Why do I get so much pleasure out of making plans?
At a party, I took a personality quiz in front of all my friends. It told me, curiously enough, that people of my personality type like to make plans even more than they like carrying them out. Everyone who was watching told me, "That sounds just like you!"
Last night, I made a plan that made me happy. My plan was to set my alarm for 8 in the morning. My plan was quite simple. I was going to wake up early to go talk to my professor about my summer plans at 9:15 in his office. I woke up, watched an episode of Ugly Betty on my computer, took a quick shower, and went to my professor's office.
This professor is basically my favorite of any. He teaches a course on Andean archaeology, and even though I'm not particularly good at the subject, I really, really like going to the classes. He's one of those professors who tells really awesome stories; in fact, I feel like the main reason why I like his class is because it's worth it to attend just to get the anecdotes. Usually, his best stories are more about archaeology than they are about ancient cultures, so we hear about how digs go wrong or how the Peruvian government messes stuff up to the detriment of science. These are the kinds of stories that make me think I would like to be an archaeologist, even though I don't think I'd be much good at it.
Anyway, I show up in his office, and of course he tells me a few good stories before we get down to business. First is the story about the super-gay lawyer/poet/archaeologist who owns the world's largest collection of Peruvian masks, the world's largest collection of some kind of vessel (I forget which), and an awfully impressive collection of dresses and costumes. "God," my professor said, "he just loves those costumes." Then there was an anecdote about the guy who was looking for a really old civilization, but was thwarted by his misinterpretation of some projectile points left by construction workers. And there was also a particularly artful story about Pablo Neruda's house in Chile, where he kept a life's collection of knickknacks collected from around the world. Neruda's house is filled with pieces of glass, sailors' wheels, and anchors, and mermaid's hair.
Then we made plans. I'm going to Perú! I got the money for the trip, and I'm going to spend my trip looking at Peruvian art and trying to contextualize some twentieth century literature written with a significant pre-Hispanic element. I basically retrofitted my old project to fit this new country. I'm not sure how well it'll fit, but I'm excited to make it work.
I leave for Perú on the tenth of June and come back to San Antonio on the twenty-first of July. Then, afterward, Emily and I will go on a roadtrip of some sort afterwards.
Making plans. Ecstasy. So much better than watching them fall apart.
But that's not to say that there isn't something to be said for the spontaneous. Today, I had to say some difficult goodbyes, but afterwards, I hung out with my BFs for a while. We ate lunch with the dean of the latino cultural house, and then afterwards, Alejandro sewed Kirsty a dress while she packed, and we listened to music and goofed around a bit. I got called an eeyore. And I helped Kirsty move her boxes to storage.
Silliman storage is SO MUCH BETTER than TD's. Look, I hate to say it, but if you saw there's you'd agree. They have uniform boxes, and they stack them neatly in rows on shelves where they're easy to access. Come on, TD - get with it.
Anyway, after I helped Kirsty move her stuff, I played the song "I love you always forever" on youtube as I said my goodbyes. It added a delicious dramatic effect, and it made it sound really important when I said things like "keep in touch this summer." I couldn't resist all that drama - I just couldn't!
And in fact, when you decide to say your goodbyes, you should play some highly dramatic music in the background, too. Plan on it, even if it's silly. The planning part will only make it that much better.
At a party, I took a personality quiz in front of all my friends. It told me, curiously enough, that people of my personality type like to make plans even more than they like carrying them out. Everyone who was watching told me, "That sounds just like you!"
Last night, I made a plan that made me happy. My plan was to set my alarm for 8 in the morning. My plan was quite simple. I was going to wake up early to go talk to my professor about my summer plans at 9:15 in his office. I woke up, watched an episode of Ugly Betty on my computer, took a quick shower, and went to my professor's office.
This professor is basically my favorite of any. He teaches a course on Andean archaeology, and even though I'm not particularly good at the subject, I really, really like going to the classes. He's one of those professors who tells really awesome stories; in fact, I feel like the main reason why I like his class is because it's worth it to attend just to get the anecdotes. Usually, his best stories are more about archaeology than they are about ancient cultures, so we hear about how digs go wrong or how the Peruvian government messes stuff up to the detriment of science. These are the kinds of stories that make me think I would like to be an archaeologist, even though I don't think I'd be much good at it.
Anyway, I show up in his office, and of course he tells me a few good stories before we get down to business. First is the story about the super-gay lawyer/poet/archaeologist who owns the world's largest collection of Peruvian masks, the world's largest collection of some kind of vessel (I forget which), and an awfully impressive collection of dresses and costumes. "God," my professor said, "he just loves those costumes." Then there was an anecdote about the guy who was looking for a really old civilization, but was thwarted by his misinterpretation of some projectile points left by construction workers. And there was also a particularly artful story about Pablo Neruda's house in Chile, where he kept a life's collection of knickknacks collected from around the world. Neruda's house is filled with pieces of glass, sailors' wheels, and anchors, and mermaid's hair.
Then we made plans. I'm going to Perú! I got the money for the trip, and I'm going to spend my trip looking at Peruvian art and trying to contextualize some twentieth century literature written with a significant pre-Hispanic element. I basically retrofitted my old project to fit this new country. I'm not sure how well it'll fit, but I'm excited to make it work.
I leave for Perú on the tenth of June and come back to San Antonio on the twenty-first of July. Then, afterward, Emily and I will go on a roadtrip of some sort afterwards.
Making plans. Ecstasy. So much better than watching them fall apart.
But that's not to say that there isn't something to be said for the spontaneous. Today, I had to say some difficult goodbyes, but afterwards, I hung out with my BFs for a while. We ate lunch with the dean of the latino cultural house, and then afterwards, Alejandro sewed Kirsty a dress while she packed, and we listened to music and goofed around a bit. I got called an eeyore. And I helped Kirsty move her boxes to storage.
Silliman storage is SO MUCH BETTER than TD's. Look, I hate to say it, but if you saw there's you'd agree. They have uniform boxes, and they stack them neatly in rows on shelves where they're easy to access. Come on, TD - get with it.
Anyway, after I helped Kirsty move her stuff, I played the song "I love you always forever" on youtube as I said my goodbyes. It added a delicious dramatic effect, and it made it sound really important when I said things like "keep in touch this summer." I couldn't resist all that drama - I just couldn't!
And in fact, when you decide to say your goodbyes, you should play some highly dramatic music in the background, too. Plan on it, even if it's silly. The planning part will only make it that much better.
Friday, May 8, 2009
The Last Day
I'm not moving out tomorrow, but everyone else is. Ming leaves in the afternoon, Sasha's going back to Woodbury (is that what it's called?) sometime in the early evening. And then TD will feel empty.
Today was such a good day, though! I woke up at seven to do the works cited page for a paper, and then turned that thing in. It was such a pleasure to see the kids who chose to take the final instead of writing the term paper, because they looked so tense and I wasn't one of them.
Then I went to the library and dropped off about twenty books. Even the guy behind the returns desk, who probably has seen a lot of extreme library abusers, looked impressed.
Next, I went with Sasha to the DUH to make an appointment for the optometrist. The lady behind the desk wanted to give her an appointment in the fall, but Sasha wouldn't take no for an answer. She bullied the lady (or charmed her, maybe) into giving her an afternoon appointment. Messed around with her a bit until at last she acquiesced.
Um... then I ate lunch (Mexican food, or so they say) and went for my first post-Swine flu job interview. As a result of my frantic attempt to apply for every job for college students posted on the world wide web, I was invited to talk with the employees about working at the African Art department of the university art gallery. The two girls who conducted my interview were both really cool; both were under 30, and one had tons of piercings on her face and wore this cool hipster outfit, while the other was more conservative but still entertaining. In the middle of the interview, she asked me a question to the effect of, "have you ever had a conflict with an employee or supervisor of your work?"
I have, in fact, had many such experiences, but none that I wanted to repeat. Shocked, I responded with, "Well, I had this co-worker who was always LYING about me. I don't know why. It was so stupid! She would tell everyone that I didn't come into work, and that I was always late, which would make me really mad because I'm sure it looked bad when it got back to the general manager."
She asked me how I resolved that conflict. I wished, immediately, that I had thought about the outcome of that story before telling it.
"Well...you see," I said, "It wasn't that big a deal. Eventually she just got fired, and then she couldn't bother me anymore."
Not my most illustrious story. But thankfully there are a hundred million more of my apps out there just waiting to be read.
Something more interesting: my sister and I may go for a cross-country road trip this summer. We'll see!
I want to write more, but I have to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow.
Today was such a good day, though! I woke up at seven to do the works cited page for a paper, and then turned that thing in. It was such a pleasure to see the kids who chose to take the final instead of writing the term paper, because they looked so tense and I wasn't one of them.
Then I went to the library and dropped off about twenty books. Even the guy behind the returns desk, who probably has seen a lot of extreme library abusers, looked impressed.
Next, I went with Sasha to the DUH to make an appointment for the optometrist. The lady behind the desk wanted to give her an appointment in the fall, but Sasha wouldn't take no for an answer. She bullied the lady (or charmed her, maybe) into giving her an afternoon appointment. Messed around with her a bit until at last she acquiesced.
Um... then I ate lunch (Mexican food, or so they say) and went for my first post-Swine flu job interview. As a result of my frantic attempt to apply for every job for college students posted on the world wide web, I was invited to talk with the employees about working at the African Art department of the university art gallery. The two girls who conducted my interview were both really cool; both were under 30, and one had tons of piercings on her face and wore this cool hipster outfit, while the other was more conservative but still entertaining. In the middle of the interview, she asked me a question to the effect of, "have you ever had a conflict with an employee or supervisor of your work?"
I have, in fact, had many such experiences, but none that I wanted to repeat. Shocked, I responded with, "Well, I had this co-worker who was always LYING about me. I don't know why. It was so stupid! She would tell everyone that I didn't come into work, and that I was always late, which would make me really mad because I'm sure it looked bad when it got back to the general manager."
She asked me how I resolved that conflict. I wished, immediately, that I had thought about the outcome of that story before telling it.
"Well...you see," I said, "It wasn't that big a deal. Eventually she just got fired, and then she couldn't bother me anymore."
Not my most illustrious story. But thankfully there are a hundred million more of my apps out there just waiting to be read.
Something more interesting: my sister and I may go for a cross-country road trip this summer. We'll see!
I want to write more, but I have to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
THE FIRST ENTRY
My thought, originally, was to write a little bit every day while I was in Mexico. What a novel idea, I know. I wonder how many blogs exist filled with nothing but travel stories. I happen to know that at least one fellowship requires each of its fellows to write a blog about what they do while they're away. Blogs about travel. Anyway, even if it's been done before I still think it's a good idea.
My thought was to write about my two months working at the Museum of Mexican History, and, later, about the month I would spend doing research in and around the valley of Mexico and the state of Veracruz. Then came the swine flu.
The swine flu.
That good-for-nothing H1N1 virus has left me in quite a bind. First, the Tec de Monterrey sent their message saying that they were no longer able to host us. Then I found out that the fund I was going to be using for my research can't endorse trips to Mexico either. Both things, I suppose, make sense. But now what am I supposed to do?
In order to answer this question, I went today to the office of Undergraduate Career Services. They promised all of the disenfranchised Mexico group that they were going to help us find internships for the summer. But when I walked in, the lady was like, "well, there's an opening as a climate change analyst."
A climate change analyst?
A worthy endeavor, no doubt. But until I take any class remotely related to actual science I think I'd better keep looking.
I suppose that's all for now. Until next time, when I decry what my professor recently called "the cult of busy smartness!"
My thought was to write about my two months working at the Museum of Mexican History, and, later, about the month I would spend doing research in and around the valley of Mexico and the state of Veracruz. Then came the swine flu.
The swine flu.
That good-for-nothing H1N1 virus has left me in quite a bind. First, the Tec de Monterrey sent their message saying that they were no longer able to host us. Then I found out that the fund I was going to be using for my research can't endorse trips to Mexico either. Both things, I suppose, make sense. But now what am I supposed to do?
In order to answer this question, I went today to the office of Undergraduate Career Services. They promised all of the disenfranchised Mexico group that they were going to help us find internships for the summer. But when I walked in, the lady was like, "well, there's an opening as a climate change analyst."
A climate change analyst?
A worthy endeavor, no doubt. But until I take any class remotely related to actual science I think I'd better keep looking.
I suppose that's all for now. Until next time, when I decry what my professor recently called "the cult of busy smartness!"
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