Gulu Biryani

A problem that began at the Musee Carnavalet

2010-04-16T23:44:00.000-07:00

I took or found these pictures as inspiration for the aesthetic for my future home. Why is everything simple/minimal/Japanese-inspired/neutral/subdued, when all I want is elaborate, layered, complementary/mismatched-patterns and portraits hanging in from of mirrors?

Also, I love/Lowes does not carry these floor tiles from some place in Paris, which I believe had a golden dome. Why are there no dinner plates that follow this color scheme? Why do people cringe when I seem to think more than one pattern of wall paper + patterned drapes + these tiles would make for a lovely home?

I probably should not have taken this picture of a portrait hanging the Louvre. But the West probably should not have colonized the East.

This painting should not seem out-of-place in any future home of mine.

I hope to recreate this Salon aesthetic, minus all the French dudes.

Did you know I cannot find bedsheets in this beautiful shade of green? Because I cannot.

Did you know the only dinner plates that are embellished just enough to be just a little over-the-top are not microwave safe? Did you know I will not deal with dinner plate that is not microwave safe?

Looking at these photos has led me to conclude:
1) I have to learn to reupholster my own chairs
2) Neema and I will get to go to flea market to find antique furniture.
3) Hanging portraits in front of mirrors has got to be possible in this day and age.

occupational hazards

2010-03-22T20:02:00.000-07:00

1. paper cuts
2. the only cloud in the sky was dark and ominous, from what must have been a distant fire

February on Trial

2010-02-15T19:36:00.000-08:00

In fifth grade, I acted in a play called February on Trial. The month of February was put on trial because the other months, particularly March and January, thought she wasn't doing her part, having so few days and all.

I initially played the part of February, and then was promoted to being the prosecution lawyer. Although I played the part of the play's antagonist/ruined the play with a fit of giggling about halfway through, I'd like to reprise my role.

I hate the month of February! It is gloomy and school is boring. The only thing it does have going for it is that it is short and will be over soon.

Honorable Jury, please sentence February to cheeriness. I'm sure December's Holiday Spirit or June's Endless Sunshine would be great mentors. October's Chilly Energy would make an effective probation officer.

THE END BYE

Reporting Live from McAllen-Miller International Airport!

2009-12-19T06:34:00.001-08:00

Dear Readers (whomever you may be, real or in my imagination),

Hurray for free wireless at the fabulous airport in McAllen, Texas. I have been "straight-chillin'" here, a few miles from the border, watching airport on-goings since 5:30 AM this morning. Around me I see fellow-fliers, some frustrated, some calm; through the big glass windows, I see...not much... thanks, thick fog. One flight out of here has been canceled, but I am still hopeful that I will be flying out in an hour--three hours later than I'd hoped, but moving towards home nonetheless.

This time yesterday, I was learning the rules to middle-school dodgeball. At school, they had a bunch of "stuff" for the kiddies to do--a dance, movies, various sports (including bowling!), snacks for purchase, board games--and, of course, we teachers got to supervise. I initially was responsible for selling at the concession stand, but was offered a trade to dodgeball by one of my co-workers. Figuring that physical activity would be more exciting than preparing hot cheetos with cheese* all day, I agreed.

I spent more time during dodgeball screaming at kids than I have all year. It was chaotic, but fun. I was told, "Miss, you throw like a girl"; broke up what could have bubbled into a fight; and canceled dodgeball after one kid hit another with one of the bright orange cones that cornered off the dodgeball area. I was pleasantly surprised that when I ran into the dodgeball crossfire, yelling "TIME OUT! GIVE ME ALL THE BALLS NOW", the boys stopped and handed me the balls. For most of the day, as I ran in and out of the dodgeball "court" telling boys who were out that they needed to get off the court, the boys on the sidelines would pull me out of the way if I were going to get pegged; it was very sweet of them. I had kind of expected they would try to hit me with the balls most of the day, so it was really nice that they kept an eye out for me instead.

It was fun, but I might grow up and be one of those moms at the PTA that makes the school stop playing dodgeball. From what I saw, it's not much of a sport when 8th graders play it--it's more of a "how hard can I hit the lame kid without getting caught?" game. Well, actually, I'd advocate for kids to play whatever sports, but also require some sort of sportmanship/sportswomanship/sportspersonship? curriculum.

* To those of you who don't live in the Valley, hot cheetos with cheese is, unfortunately, exactly what it sounds like: a bag of spicy hot cheetos, with nacho cheese poured on. It tastes like one would expect: delicious but horrible. The school sells this stuff, in addition to soft drinks, candy, nachos, and other junk, to raise money. Texas schools can only sell/give junk food to kids on certain days (like before breaks), or after lunch. The school makes a ton of money off of it, but I really don't think that my students should be exposed to such unhealthy food just so we can afford field trips (the sales don't generally raise funds for stuff like books). My students definitely don't eat healthy at home, if they eat much at all. Why give them such horribly fattening food? In a country with an obesity epidemic, it makes no sense. We may as well let them roll around in raw chicken.

Now, I am going to start watching Arrested Development, and then move on to Planet Earth. I figure I can have both series finished by the time I get home tonight at 10:30 PM.

Happy Travels!

peppermint

2009-12-13T14:47:00.000-08:00

Dear World,

If you must inundate me with a holiday I don't celebrate, the least you could do is make sure there is peppermint bark available for purchase in the chaos that is the grocery store. I expect better the next time I brave H.E.B.

Love,
Gulu

Dear Readers,

When the World gyps you and you can't buy any peppermint bark, do not despair. The winter/holiday season can still be full of minty goodness! Of course, peppermint is with us all year long: it's in our toothpastes and shampoo; it adds a kick to chicken skewers and samosas; it calms our tummies as tea when we have too much chicken and too many samosas (and even too much toothpaste, yikes).

Why, though, does peppermint make such a not-so-subtle appearance in the wintertime? I made up a completely unfounded answer to this question, which is as follows: Peppermint is an invasive species (fact). It chokes out all the other plants in the neighborhood, and when the harvest season comes, it's all that's usable from our gardens in the winter. We extract its oils, dry its leaves, and call it holiday cheer.

Since we have such a plethora of peppermint, I have some suggestions on the best ways to get a peppermint fix:

1. Starbucks' Peppermint Mocha. Get it hot, unless you live in the Valley. Then, an ice-cold peppermint mocha hits spot on a sunny, 80-degree December day. It's a good trick to convince your body that it is technically winter.

2. Candy canes-we tend to get gifted tons of these. Fact: they are adorable. Fact: they are messy and sticky and annoying and get slobbery when you eat them. Solution: for a holiday Scrabble party, make your guests each a mug of hot chocolate. Unwrap a candy cane for each mug, and put it in each glass as a stirrer. They melt into the hot drink giving it a minty kick, look adorable curling out of the mug, and are a great way to unload all those candy canes!

3. Candy canes can also be smashed up and used to top icecream, brownies, cupcakes--most anything sweet.

4. Let's be honest, sometimes you buy peppermint bark without totally thinking (peppermint bark is exciting). You bring it home, and uh-oh, it's not REAL peppermint bark---it was made with WHITE CHOCOLATE which ISN'T EVEN CHOCOLATE because it has NO COCOA in it. What to do? Brave the obscene return lines at the store? Absolutely not. Break off a few pieces and let it melt into your morning coffee. Deeeeelectable.

I hope your winter and Christmas and New Year and Hanukkah are full of fresh, peppermint breath! Let me know if you have any other uses of my favorite essential oil.

Love,
Gulu

I am thankful...

2009-11-26T11:26:00.000-08:00

1. that I am not a turkey
2. that I am not a Native American during the colonial era or around when everyone was all Manifest Destiny about stuff
3. for my students being awesome, and knowing that saying "I love Harry Potter" is a good way to get extra points during a game
4. that unlike most of those mentioned above, I have a wealth of opportunity, and can, therefore, really truly look forward to a wonderful future
5. for my family and Neema
6. for #5 helping me help #3 avoid the fate similar to that of #1 and #2
7. for my having the sense to say: I'm not minimizing how awful it must have been to have been on the losing side of America's expansion by comparing it to the life of a turkey. I'm just saying either would be pretty awful.

munching meat

2009-11-19T17:07:00.000-08:00

At first, I hesitated a little to write about this. I feel like, for some reason, meat-eating can be a volatile issue. That said, I am writing this as a choosy meat-eater. Even if my words aren't worth a read, I'd say everyone should get the book I am discussing, because I want to know what you think.

After reading about it in reviews in the New Yorker and New York Times, I picked up Eating Animals by Johnathon Safron Foer last night. It's been as tough to read as it has been to put down and I'm not sure that I'll easily digest it either. I would say that it's a book about vegetarianism, but I think that would do it a disservice, not to say there would be anything wrong with a book about vegetarianism. However, I say it's "not about vegetarianism" because it's not about vegetarianism. It's more of an exploration of how and why and if we should eat animals.

I find the book challenging because I eat meat. I have not finished the book, nor have I thought through everything I have read. I do, however, have thoughts.

I only eat halaal meat, which means that the animals I eat are presumably raised and killed according to Islamic ethical guidelines.
Going into the book, I:

1) always had problems with the fact that I couldn't be sure (hence, I used the word 'presumably') that Islamic guidelines are being followed (animals raised nicely and killed nicely... what does nicely even mean?)
and
2) believe Islamic guidelines for ethical eating need to be revisited anyways.

As for number 1, in Kentucky, our imam would go to some person's farm and slaughter the animals we ate by hand. I felt comfortable about that situation. Now, I eat halaal meat from Houston. Who knows how they were killed? Maybe my idea of "nice" is not this butcher's?

For number 2, it is currently "halaal" to eat friend chicken at the specific KFCs that sell "halaal" fried chicken. I say it's "halaal" because really, can KFC, which treats its chickens pretty abysmally, really be halaal? Even if the ones I eat were not treated badly?
The spirit behind Islamic dietary laws is to eat with a conscience, humanely, and ethically. So even if KFC kills a few chickens the "right" way, is it still "right" to eat there? Should we indirectly support what happens to those other chickens?
Similarly, it's "halaal" to eat chocolate made from cocoa beans harvested by children who are effectively enslaved in Cote d'Ivore. Can my eating Nestle really be true to the Quran? It say in that book (Surah 42, Verses 41-42, to be exact) first, that one should struggle against oppression, and that "blame attaches but to those who oppress [other] people and behave outrageously on earth, offending against all right." I think we can all agree that child-slavery is oppression in this day and age. Eating the fruits of their free labor is not really struggling against oppression; rather, it is indulging in its melt-in-your-mouth glory.

My point, though: what is halaal to eat needs to be reconsidered by "the scholars." That said, I don't have to listen to the scholars. I just need to listen to my heart and not my tummy and work harder to think before I eat.

Which brings me back to Eating Animals.
My favorite thing about the book is that it does not proselytize. It just sets out the horrors of factory farming (which I knew, but can afford be reminded) but then also raises questions about... eating animals, even the ones we treat nicely. It doesn't tell me not to eat them. It asks me to think about it.

That said, the information it offers me to digest is pretty much "wow look at horrible things that have to do with meat-eating". I would like someone who eats meat (all kinds of it) to read this book and tell me what they think.

Also, just to clarify, just because vegetarians don't eat meat, it doesn't mean they don't think meat is/can be delicious. That's why we eat fake meat. It's like how you wouldn't kill someone in real life, but you would in a video game. I think...

the awesomest kid

2009-10-24T09:20:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the homecoming dance at my school, which I had the pleasure of chaperoning for 3 hours. Mostly, I amused myself at how well or awful my students dance. They dance to Mexican/Tejano music as easily as they do pop music. The Kumbia Kings caused as much excitement as Justin Timberlake. I was never remotely excited about Indian music; it makes me happy that my students love their own and mainstream American culture together.

Either way, my point in writing is to tell you about the most awesomest kid.

I stood to the back of the cafeteria for most of the dance, leaning up against a half-wall thing because my feet hurt. At some point, I heard a kid talking behind me. I turned, and he was just there alone, hopping around animatedly. I turned back around, pointed out to a co-worker/friend that the kid behind us was talking to himself and we laughed.

A while later, I felt someone tapping my back. It was the kid, and he was asking me to move over a bit and bending over to get something at my feet. I was standing on one of those plasticy strings that holds up balloons. Balloons had been popped and deflated all over the place; so, of course, those strings were littered all over the floor. He reached for the one I was standing on and I asked him what he was doing.

"I'm making the longest rope," he replied.

He had, in his hand, a half-deflated balloon, tied to a string tied to a string tied to a string. He tied the string I was standing on to it, and walked away, half-deflated balloon trailing behind him. I turned around and heard him saying, "Awesome. This is awesome. Awesome..."

I'm not sure that I love teaching because I'm helping fix the achievement gap. But I know I love teaching because I get to work with the most random people ever.

oh, and I forgot to mention

2009-10-21T15:27:00.000-07:00

The story's called Best Friend to Worst Enemy. The tiger's shift from best to worst actually never happens in the story, because I ended the story before then. Oops.

BUT I STILL WON

Young Author

2009-10-21T15:05:00.000-07:00

In third or second grade, I was a proud recipient of the prestigious Young Author's Award, which maybe a zillion other kids also received in the state of Wisconsin. I found the winning piece today, in a box of old stuff. I had an excellent time re-reading what is clearly the first major stepping stone towards what will hopefully be a long, successful career writing.

The story's main character is a lion, Raja, who live in a jungle in Delhi, which I subsequently learned is actually kind of sort of full of humans and not jungle.

Here are some excerpts, a preview of what will maybe someday be published in full in my Collected Works:

One rainy, rainy day Raja heard some thumping coming toward him. He jumped up and growled.

Then the thing that was thumping said "It is okay," in a crying voice, "It is only me, Share (Raja's BFF, a tiger). I have some very bad news, but you have to promise not to ry."

"Me? Cry?," he answered. "I'm a full grown lion."
...
"Our parents, even mine, have died because they got sucked up by quick sand."

The reader then learns the parents were chased into the quicksand by two evil snakes. I remember pretty distinctly knowing the parents needed to die, and being unwilling to give them a more violent ending than quick sand. Either way, that night, Raja hardly ate dinner, "even though it was his favorite food, deer meat."

After Raja's announcement that he is now king of the jungle

... an elephant came to their house and asked for Raja...

"I heard how your parents died.," said the elepahnt, "Do you think you need a guard? Because I can be yours."

Well why," asked Raja, "I'm not trying to be mean or any thing but I just want to know.

That sentence is probably the only one without proper use of quotation marks. When I was in a creative writing class at Tulane, we had to review quotation marks because some of my classmates didn't get how to do dialouge. Major props to my elementary teachers for having covered that so well! (Oh, and the elephant's parents were sucked up by quicksand--because of the snakes--in case you're wondering why he offered to protect the lions.)

Either way, I apparently didn't have time to finish writing the story, because the narrator ends the story with (Yes! There is a narrator! I must have read some Kipling around when I wrote this, because I seemed to have imitated his narrative voice.) this:

Now you will have to figure the rest out yourself because I do not remember the rest.

Awesome. I'm kind of awesome. I really hate sharing my writing with people (like, non-blog writing, of course); but if you come over and ask about my writing, I will let you read the whole thing!!!

scary.

2009-10-16T21:38:00.000-07:00

Once I took a class on the archaeology of gender, and, since then, I have been scared of contracting cribra orbitalia aka porotic hyperostosis. Basically, if you are malnutritioned (is this a verb?), your bones can start to get spongey. And the spongey marrow in your head can start sponging all over the place... including your eye sockets, as shown in the above photograph.

Sometimes, my eyes hurts and I am scared. I worry that the skull sponge marrow is growing into my eyeball and if I touch my eyelids, I will feel it under them. I didn't eat any vegetables today. What if I am malnutritioned? What if bone sponge grows all up in my eye sockets? I'm going to eat a children's chewable vitamin before I go to bed in hopes of preventing such an awful fate.

Can you prevent fate?

Once, I took an online quiz to see if I had adult ADD (or rather, to see if I should bother seeing a doctor about it to be for-real diagnosed). I remember it asked if I ever felt like more than a couple TV channels were on in my head. I said yes then, and still say yes now. But what's good is that each individual channel has a clearer signal these days than ever before.

oh, and just because I go to Starbucks, it doesn't mean I would ever buy one of these things

2009-10-04T15:34:00.001-07:00

2009-10-04T15:24:00.000-07:00

A guide to downtown Denver's hotspots. THIS IS JUST DOWNTOWN DENVER.

That said, today, upon getting to a too-packed Starbucks in Barnes and Noble, I said, "They should just build a free-standing Starbucks over there", pointing to the strip mall (fancy one) behind the Barnes and Noble (the one with the Starbucks). I used to be too principled to go to Starbucks. Now I am too principled to plan a poor lesson because I sat at home and couldn't focus. Starbucks helps me focus because it doesn't have a TV and it does have a bunch of high schoolers from the fancy school district doing their homework. The non-Starbucks coffee is far and gross and full of college kids talking about their opinions way way way too loudly. Hey college kids, I don't care.

OHHHEMMMGGGEEE

2009-09-23T19:29:00.000-07:00

FORGET CANYON DE CHELLY NEEMA AND I HAVE TO GO HERE AFTER GETTING MARRIED:

IT IS NEXT TO THE JURASSIC PARK SECTION OF UNIVERSAL STUDIOS.

YES THIS NEEDS TO BE IN ALL CAPS

recent observations

2009-09-22T17:21:00.000-07:00

1. My new thematic facebook album is on layers (I'm also working on one highlighting the underrated color grey). I took this picture yesterday on my way out of the school parking lot. I loved how you could see my car, the school's concrete, the road's concrete, grass on the side of the road, shrubs/weeds, plowed (harvested?) farmland (brown), unplowed (unharvested?) farmland (green), darker green, trees, sky, powerline. From the car, it all stacked up like a cross-section of off-color tiramisu. In the photo, it's nowhere near as dramatic. I'm just sharing because now all of the green has been plowed (harvested?) away and so this picture cannot be attempted again.
I can't wait until it's not still in the high 90s every day, temperature-wise, and people wear layers and I can have a reason to photograph clothing.

2. Some gems from the Sept. 28, 2009 issue of Time

"We're going to have no paper, no printing plants, no unions. It's going to be great."
-Rupert Murdoch on the future of the newspaper/my future career

"The national parks--and The National Parks--are based on ideas that are classically, if not radically, communitarian. That the free market doesn't always act in the public interest...And that it is right for people--through government--to protect [national parks] from business interests and even from the people themselves... A series on a public TV network that calls a government program America's best idea? Has no one alerted Rush Limbaugh?"
--James Poniewozik, on Ken Burns' The National Parks: America's Best Idea

After presenting both liberal and conservative estimates of the size of a crowd at a recent protest, David Von Drehle writes, "Either way, you may not be inclined to believe what we say about numbers, according to a recent poll that found record-low levels of public trust of the mainstream media." --an article on Glenn Beck

This statement, from an article on the swine flu, totally blew my mind, "We're living through an unprecedented opportunity for civilization--a chance to pre-empt a catastrophic pandemic influenza rather than just react to it."

"Did he do it just to show the big TV that there are still some flesh-and-blood players in this game?"
--Richard Lacayo/Arlington, on whether A.J. Trapasso of the TN Titans purposefully punted a football into the Jumbo-Tron at the new Cowboy's stadim, in

Usually, nothing in Time stands out. I am happy that so much did today.

3. I found an old mix of some acoustic Saves the Day. It sounds like how I want the dinner/sit down and eat portion of my wedding to sound.

I wonder...

2009-09-20T00:09:00.000-07:00

if the half-popped kernels of popcorn are only delicious because they are so rare.

I wish I could figure out how to make only half-popped kernels and find out.

you look just like buddy holly and i'm mary tyler moore

2009-09-16T13:31:00.000-07:00

1) I found all my high school/early college cds. I am happy to report that this discovery supports my firm belief that my teenage self made few poor decisions outside the wardrobe department. I had my head on straight those days.

2) Point #1 above has revolutionized my drive to school with the reintroduction of Weezer's The Blue Album to my cd player. I sing now for the whole 20 minute drive, often with the endearingly sexist* "No One Else" on repeat. I'm sure anyone who sees me rocking out would conclude that I have a couple of loose screws.

3) In class, I am teaching figurative language. I am letting you know so you don't seem to think that my frequent and strategic use of idioms is totally out of the blue. I am trying to use figurative language like T-Pain uses autotune.**

4) Re: class--it's going so so so so so so well. Maybe it's because I'm pumped up by #2 above, but even though I wake up exhausted, I get to school and have tons of energy and a great time with the kids. In their vernacular, it's off the hook.

5) And now, a metaphor--
Driving home from school today, I could feel the sunlight burning through the window onto my arm. To my surprise, it began raining and I could see lightening in the grey distance. I am always perplexed and amused by rain on a sunny day, especially when the drops seem to sizzle like water on hot oil as they hit the blindingly bright pavement. That is my life right now: there is rain, but it is outshone by the sun. Sure I get wet and have to turn on the wipers, but that changes neither the heat on my skin nor my high vitaman D intake.

* This is probably not a reasonable thing.
** I realized almost immediately upon typing these words the potential for my use/overuse of figurative language to be as obnoxious as the radio these days.

(500) Days of Summer

2009-09-12T22:49:00.000-07:00

is a downer. Don't see it unless you want to feel emotions.

2009-09-10T14:25:00.001-07:00

Today I sensed Forever. He is not, as feared, a jump into a black and endless pit; but rather he is reaching, reaching reaching, getting past your own fingertips, into blue steel grey.

I haven't known a place to have such a clear demarcation between cloudy and not cloudy; here, today, it is monster and not monster, the difference.

A little after crossing from Louisiana into Texas, I noticed it was there--the sky again a tangible entity above me. You know in elementary school PE, the day you play with a parachute? You get a chance to run underneath the billowing cloth while your classmates hold it up. And then above you something is breathing and the space is aglow with the red, turquoise light filtering through. You want that moment t
o last forever, before the fabric deflates around you, slowly and then faster and closer.
Driving into Texas, I didn't notice the parachute surging up, but suddenly I am under its blue blue blue. I cannot shake the sensation that it will collapse around me.

Today, the blue made way for grey. It is the shade of grey you feel when you hold thumb to thumb, finger to finger, pushing them together up and down. And it's as if you're rubbing your fingers against a sheet of metal when you do it long enough. It is Forever.

New Style Icon--Bloggling Superficiality

2009-09-06T17:28:00.001-07:00

I went shopping today and happily I am past looking at only "teacher clothes." I'm secure enough about work/kids to go to school not necessarily dressed "like a teacher"; I want lightweight florals to take the role of pencil skirts in my current day-to-day wear. Part of this is because I will soon be moving away from the warmth of Texas and love the idea of having an expansive stockpile of summer dresses to adapt to the winter weather with leggings and boots and scarves and jackets. (Almost bought a faux-leather jacket today, by the way.)

As I looked past teaching clothes and towards winter clothes, I saw a little further towards the possibility of journalist clothes. The Rolodex of TV Journalists flipped through my head and I was disappointed at the prospect of matching pencil skirts and suit jackets with old lady necklaces.

However, the image of a prominent journalist from my
childhood suddenly appeared in my head, and I had my new style icon: April O'Neil from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Basically, I need a belted yellow jumpsuit and a pair of white leather boots as soon as I get out of graduate school and into the work force.
In all seriousness, a yellow windbreaker with the sleeves rolled up and some skinny jeans would be a hell of look for me. ASAP, at that.

Oh, and I need the white boots for sure.

New York Times, Orientalism, are you kidding me?

2009-08-19T17:57:00.001-07:00

I'll be honest, Mr. Kristof, I didn't read all of your article The Women's Crusade, so maybe I don't have the right to criticize it. The thing is, I got so disgusted with its new-fangled orientalism, that I couldn't do more than skim most of the piece. I don't mean this to mean precisely what Edward Said meant by the term Orientalism, but effectively what he meant by it: the West portrays the East as an inferior Other, the Orient embodying all the awful that the Occident is not, creating a "system is not that it is a misrepresentation of some Oriental essence... but that it operates as representations usually do, for a purpose, according to a tendency, in a specific historical, intellectual, and even economic setting" (Said, Orientalism). The "purpose" being another reason for the U.S. and "the West" to continue its paternal push for cultural, political, and economic hegemony. Kristof does, after all, ultimately argue that the U.S. should throw money at women in developing countries to give them a boost, help them become part of the global economy. Remember how Jane Eyre decided not to go to India to help the Hindustanis? Remember how she had her own patriarchy to contend with? Yeah, exactly.

The article opens with the above photo of some dejected-looking Pakistani females. It goes on to explain how the woman was abused by her dead-beat husband until she got a microloan and made a ton of money embroidering. Now she "She exudes self-confidence... doesn’t even pretend to be subordinate to her husband." Then why the photo of her looking so godawfulmiserable? Because a vieled brown woman looking hopeless better serves your purposes? In a similar was as does describing an Indian girl as having "chocolate skin" and the African woman as having a "high forehead and tight cornrows". None of the American women in the really great article on women in the military are described with such painstaking physicality. There are photographs of the two women alongside the article and yet their exotic, swarthy physiques preceed their acheivement and ambitions.

What got me first and gets me most about the article, however, is that in their description of "a large slice of the world" where "girls are uneducated and women marginalized", any chunk of the United States where this occurs is not remotely mentioned. Of course, with me not being a complete idiot, I know that the United States wouldn't be in the scope of an article aiming to promote the spending American foriegn aid dollars on women and girls. That said, as an avid reader of the New York Times, I also know that doesn't often focus on the plight, the oppression, and oft-miserable situation of American women and girls. For example, a sidebar in this article declares that "there are 5 thousand honor killings a year, the majority in the Muslim world." Ignoring the fact that "the Muslim world" is a ridiculous notion (I'm Muslim; Paris has a ton of Muslims; India has a TON of Muslims and isn't remotely a Muslim country; etc); ignoring the fact that non-Muslim women die from honor killings (but it's implied that honor-killings are Muslim); I have yet to see the Nytimes mention that over 1100 women (about three each day, according the the National Organization of Women) in the United States are killed by abusive spouses or boyfriends. Considering that the vague notion of "the Muslim World" has a significantly larger population than the United States, I'd say it's ridiculous to harp on one (and oh, American news loves harping on honor killings, which are regionally and culturally defined) and not much mention the other. And speaking of political and legal systems that work against women (which of course exist sooo much in the Third World), just read this article, When Domestic Violence Laws Don't Work from O Magazine, and you'll see that we have one of them.

All of this is not to say, of course, that a lot of the awful sexist stuff that goes down in Third World countries isn't a bunch of bullshit that we should just let happen. It is just astounding to me how much awful sexist stuff goes down here that we just let happen. Why the constant outrage over honor killings and so little against domestic violence? Why so much focus on educating poor women around the world, and so little on making sure my female students feel empowered enough to make sound sexual decisions and become effective heads-of-household in the future (they're more likely to end up young, high school dropouts, unmarried with children)? For goodness' sake, the books girls eat up in this country, the Twilight series, are about a girl who choses marriage and a violent vampire pregnancy over college. Let's not even bring up the trafficking of women and girls being so epidemic around the world, when Shelbyville, Kentucky had its very own brothel of sex-slaves from Latin America. And we want to help other countries with gender egalitarism and female empowerment?

Again, this is not to say that Kristof or the New York Times are misrepresenting or wrong about the women they seek to help. I have no doubt I am significantly better off with my family in the United States as a woman than I would have been with my family in India. But had I been raised in India, with most any middle or upper class family, I'd be likely be better off, socially, academically, and economically, than if I'd been born into a coal-mining family in Appalachia. But I don't think these things warrant such comparisons because that's a slippery slope to racist, regionalist, classist, untestable generalizations. Well actually I'm already down that slope, but whatever.

Kristof writes, "Traditionally, the status of women was seen as a “soft” issue — worthy but marginal. We initially reflected that view ourselves in our work as journalists. We preferred to focus instead on the “serious” international issues, like trade disputes or arms proliferation." I think it's awesome the women's issues make front-page news. But not when it's only about the horrible conditions brown and black women live in around the world. Not at the expense of the man women lurking in our own attics. Again, it is orientalist that this happens--the portrayal of "Eastern" women as needing our help, as being ruled over by tyrants hasn't changed in centuries. It's an unreasonable and unwarranted focus, but its one that distracts us from our own problems.

I'm losing steam. It just makes me so mad.

"Atticus Finch and the Limits of Southern Liberalism"

2009-08-04T12:35:00.001-07:00

This awesome article from the New Yorker is immensely worth reading. Gender and race in the South? A reference to Charles Dickens? Now these are a few of my favorite things.

Things I have recently observed...

2009-07-27T12:20:00.000-07:00

1. Lightening striking the Sears Tower at night. There was a cracking noise and sparks!
2. Indiana, at times, smells like hotdog water.
3. A removed mountain top.
4. A crow of a rooster waking me up in the morning.
5. The taste of unwashed, Appalachian blackberries, as fresh as a bear would eat.

Omar Souleyman

2009-07-03T18:49:00.000-07:00

The other day I heard Bjork on NPR. She oh-so-whimsically introduced me to Omar Souleyman, a Syrian musician. I could listen to his distinctly Arab take on techno probably forever. I don't know the name of the traditional stringed instrument you usually hear in Arabic music, but Souleyman replaces it with a synth. Further, as you see in this rock and roll video , another man often whispers lyrics in his ears, which are then added to the song.

In Bjork's significantly more endearing words:

When they are really warmed up and going for it at a good-times party, Harbi stands next to him on stage and chain-smokes. Then he will whisper poetry in his ear that he's writing at the moment. Omar will sing it immediately in the microphone and run around the room, exciting people there. I thought it was quite exciting for a poet and an emcee to work together.

The collaboroation, however, doesn't strike me as particularly innovative--I grew up watching qawalli videos with my dad, where they often write-sing poetry as they go. That said, those performers didn't wear leather jackets and aviators with their old school mustaches and dishdashas (they also didn't really wear dishdashas, since qawals aren't Arab). It's also a little like freestyling, except that Souleyman uses someone else's lyrics.

To summarize:
1) expect to hear the song "Leh Jani" on repeat in my precense and at my wedding. I might even try to get everyone to do the dance--it will be a "good-times party".
2) listen to Bjork on NPR's You Must Hear This; even if you don't care for Souleyman's music, her voice is so irresistably sweet and cute.

JT's Blog

2009-06-29T15:27:00.001-07:00

http://www.justintimberlake.com/news/

Justin Timberlake's blog is full of actually interesting things. I'm not saying that because I am in love with Justin Timberlake. Particularly, I thought this was awesome. I've also decided that JT's song "Damn Girl" will play as I walk into my wedding reception. I don't care who it offends, because it'll be soooo accurate in reflecting everyone's thoughts at that very moment. (In case you don't want to hear it, it basically goes like this, "Damn girl, you're so fine" and "I said there something bout the way you do the things you do when you do the things you do its got me Oh! Oh! Oh!")

Wouldn't it be so perfect if he could be there singing it? Perfect for everyone but Neema.

China Patterns

2009-06-23T23:39:00.000-07:00

I keep expecting that x or y about the getting married process will be fun or exciting, but so far everything's just frustrating. It's frustrating because everything about marriage is pretty conventional, which is frustrating because conventional
1) bores Neema,
2) tends to be patriarchal/capitalist,
3) is nonetheless unavoidable,
4) makes both our moms sooooo happy,
5) and is actually appealing, if only #2 didn't bug me so much.

I'm figuring out what needs to go on my registry. I thought picking things out that others will buy for me would be super exciting. Yet, I'm encountering a host of problems.*
I've mostly been focusing on dinnerware, and it's overwhelming.
1. The few things I really like are
a) seasonal or something, and therefore soon-to-be-discontinued
b) made to be used in the outdoors, and therefore plastic
c) for kids, not married adults

Puelba Dinnerware, Pottery Barn

Outdoor Dinn e rw a re, Pottery Barn

Ceram ic Animal Pl ate, Pottery Barn Kids

2. Honestly, I would just register for animal plates; but not only are they technically for kids, they are on sale. This means they're gone in a month or so. And I'm getting married next year. And no one in my family would buy kids' plates for me anyways. And they're $23 each. Why are plates so expensive? In class we would talk about how women of color often face multiple oppressions--an example being that of an African-American woman having to turn to a often-racist/brutal police force to report domestic abuse and risk sending another member of her community to jail. I'm oversimplifying it, nonetheless there is a parallel in my mind between the compacted oppressions many face in the real world and the compacted oppressions I face in the china-choosing world. This juxtaposition in my mind is a gross injustice against real injustice, but I can't help it.

3. I also really, really love this Medallion set from Target, which also is not likely to be around next year. I would have to register for a few sets of it (since I looooove having people over for dinner), and would likely have to get some plain white serving platters, bowls, etc. to go with it. I don't want to think about it much, though, again, because of the good chance I won't be able to register for it. It breaks my heart that it's so affordable/lovely/much like the unaffordable/lovely Hermes Balcons Du Guadalquivir collection:

A five-piece place setting (for one person) is $430. It astounds me that some people in this world can be starving and others can eat off of $125 dinner plates. That said, the 16-piece Target set at $50, I'm sure, is unaffordable and exorbitant for many. Further, given the option between my longtime if-I-had-the-money-and-the-conscience purchase, the Hermes Kelly Bag and the Balcons Du Guadalquivir, I don't know that I could choose.

4. Mostly only traditional (read: boring) china sets at places like Macy's and Williams-Sonoma don't tend to be only seasonal. I'm worried I'll have to settle and eat off of plain, white plates forever.

If so, I prefer some texture:
Pillyvuyt Basketweave Dinnerware, Williams-Sonoma

5. I'm not sure if these will/have been discontinued, but if not, what do you think of
Laurel Canyon by Kate Spade? I mostly like it because of the animal print involved. But will I like it when I get tired of animal prints? Will I get tired of animal prints? Would a boy like these plates? To eat off of forever? Do I have to use these forever?

6. Can you believe that I still haven't covered like a ton of other stuff I need to register for? Linens and whatever.

7. I seriously just spend an hour writing about china patterns on my blog. Ideally, I would just have spent an hour at the flea market with Neema and picked one of each different plates/mugs/tea sets or whatever and eat off/entertain with that stuff. Pottery Barns makes me feel like that's impossible/ugly/not reasonable.

8. If I go all-white, could I get pieces from different collections to make it less boring?

9. Whatever I choose, I will probably break within a couple of days of receiving it. I am clumsy.

*Did I use 'host' correctly in this sentence?"

humidity

2009-06-18T22:39:00.000-07:00

Oftentimes, the air, here in my home state of Kentucky, makes the sky different. While a Texan sky is a canopy, a summer Kentucky sky is a wet, warm blanket. The moisture creates a sort of dulling, obscuring mist that settles around everything. The sky no longer seems majestic, a strong still blue hovering above me; rather, it's a moist weight tucked in around reality. Although there is some comfort in being wrapped up, the heat is quickly stifling.

And mostly my mom does not run the air conditioning. I get very sweaty.

mangni

2009-06-14T22:06:00.000-07:00

I had an Indian engagement party, mangni, on Saturday, making Neema and me officially official, or something. I took off my engagement ring before everyone came and Neema put it back on me when everyone was there. The Iranian part was when candy pieces were thrown at me without warning. They hurt a little but they also tasted delicious. I put a "traditional" Indian hat on Neema. Most of my huge family was there, laughing. It was lovely having the people who grew up in the same home, ate from the same hands, and slept on the same floors as I did, there with me.*

*I can't really decide how to puncuate or more clearly write this sentence. Suggestions?

Exclamation Points

2009-06-06T21:19:00.001-07:00

Clearly, I overuse them when blogging from the car.

I am so techie!!!

2009-06-06T15:25:00.000-07:00

I am blogging on the road!!! Daddy's driving and I am for once reaping the benefits of overpriced Cricket wireless.

I get carsick when I read, so let's so how this goes.

My life moves in circles. At this moment, I'm in H-Town, Houston, Texas, exactly where I was a year ago. We were planning on just driving right through, when I realized that we were passing through Sharpstown, where I taught summer school last year! And I remembered: Hillcroft Street, Houston's Indian area, was one exit away. Needless to say, Daddy and I had a fabulous halaal Indian dinner and are now happily digesting on our way back to Kentucky.

Daddy just said, "See how good it is to know something about a place."
We are listening to Hindi songs on Masala Radio 1480.

Oh, I guess I should mention I'm going back to Kentucky for the summer. Rarely am I so contented to move away from a place. I mean that not because I hate the Valley, but because I am glad for the break from school and actually very excited about being refreshed for the next school year.

This time next week: my engagement party!!!

Now, to keep from throwing up, I'm going to stop writing.

border patrol

2009-05-25T20:08:00.000-07:00

I went out taking pictures today.

A Border Patrol agent stopped to make sure I wasn't doing anything "illegal."

I realized that each one of my shots was obstructed at some point by a Border Patrol car. I think that would make a fabulous collection of photos---beautiful border landscapes with SUVs hurdling through them in a cloud of dust. However, I think it might count as "illegal."

2009-05-24T01:59:00.000-07:00

It's nearly 4AM and I still am somehow not tired.

1. I decided that since I'm going to be a journalist, I need to understand online media. I made a tumblr. I can't decide if I should learn to twitter.

2. It's THUNDERSTORMING.

3. #2 is worth the tired I will feel later.

4. Is this new blog format hard to read?

cooking

2009-05-23T22:27:00.000-07:00

My friend uploaded this photo of me in my element onto facebook earlier today. I saw it
and two thoughts immediately came to mind:

A) I so completely love that t-shirt.
B) I am doing what I love doing best--cooking.

Then, I thought:
C) I am doing what I love doing best--cooking for people.

Most days, after school, I:
1) Put crunchy taco shells into the oven to crunch up even more.
2) Cook a black bean veggie burger in a pan.
3) Mash up an avocado with plain yogurt and HEB's Ranchero salsa.*
4) I put 2 and 3 into 1 and top it off with HEB Mexican
shredded cheese mix.
and
5) Eat it.

Some weeks, I this happens five times.

I LOVE CRUNCY TACOS. I honestly cannot think of words that emphasize how
much this is true.

However, I love cooking. I don't consider steps 1-5 above to be cooking. I
consider it 'assembling', kind of like what Rachel Ray does. There is, of course,
nothing wrong with assembling; it is its own thing, as highlighted by the following
analogy:

assembling : cooking : : DJing** : songwriting/composing

The dilineation between the two approaches to meal preparation (All cooking is
meal preparation. Not all meal preparation is cooking. It might be assembling, or
even chopping) having been made, I return to thought C, above, "I am doing what
I love doing best--cooking for people."
I would NEVER assemble a meal for guests. I rarely cook for myself. I have time to
cook after school; considering that I find it relaxing, one would expect that I would
cook after a day of insanity. I just, well, I don't. I don't cook for myself. I know what
X + Y will taste like together, whether I've tried it or not. It's like DJing (And this is
where the analogy falls apart, so don't try to extend it to this point. The metaphor
works, though.)--I don't do it so that I can hear the songs together. I do it so
someone else can. I don't care if you like the taste or the transition. I offer the
juxtaposition of flavors and sounds because that is why we have flavors and
sounds--so that we can share them.

It is truly the most lonesome thing, to cook without someone else to feed.

A person can only have so many one person dance parties. Sooner or later, you pull
out some old school Bright Eyes. And you listen one day, and the next, and the next.

But if you ask for a mix cd, I will offer you clear, often unexpected, progression
from one song to the next. I will brown the onions to soft perfection, add spices
until it smells right, and listen for when the simmering slows into a rolling boil.

*When I leave Texas, I will miss this most.
**By DJ, I don't mean turntablist, who I believe, to continue with my metaphor,
adapt others' recipes to their own. In that sense, I'd say I'm more a turntablist
than a songwriter in the kitchen. In terms of music, though, I'm a DJ.***
***Does this make sense anywhere outside my own brain?

2009-05-20T20:08:00.000-07:00

1. I don't 'get' Twitter. Not at all. I'm not sure I care to figure it out.
2. I miss my long hair a whole whole whole whole whole whole whole whole whole lot. I realized I keep cutting it short because I hate hate hate medium hair.
3. I like the way tumblr looks but hate how it's spelled, so I will stick to blogspot, even though it's visually displeasing.
4. Remember when getting my hair cut meant finding a pair of scissors and cutting off pieces I didn't like?
5. Just look at me with long, long hair (ignore that I look kind of gross).
6. Soon, I'm going to write about how I miss feeling young, like I do in the picture.
7. I miss England.

Somali Pirates

2009-05-17T00:35:00.000-07:00

I was blog-browsing and came across this poem that really well encapsulates my thoughts on the pirate situation.

http://amirsulaiman.blogspot.com/2009/04/of-criminals-and-crime.html#comments

I have a hard time condemning/passing judgment on people in terrible situations for doing terrible things. I'm in a really amazing, blessed position in the world, and yet my consumption of "stuff" results in global hurt: pollution, sweatshop labor, and things like helping pay for the destruction of Iraq and Afghanistan. And I do these things because they are convenient, etc. I wouldn't be able to look the people I inadvertently oppress in the face--I guess since I don't really have to, I let it not matter. It also would be very simple for me to say that pirates should find legal "alternatives", but as I've not really bothered challenging the legality of so much I do, who am I to really say a thing? I still will say something.

In terms of cowardice, I have those pirates beat. I'm afraid I'm the real criminal, to have so much and concede so little.

The Flamingo Cafe

2009-05-15T21:09:00.000-07:00

Today, during my after school nap, I received a few texts and phone calls. In my nap-induced dream delirium, I texted and called my friends back. I woke up, disappointed about Wayne not making it to the movies and waiting for Jake to return from the Flamingo Cafe in Progreso, Mexico.
The thing is, I know no Wayne and there is no Flamingo Cafe... yet!!!

When I grow up and by some twist of fate decide to open a restaurant, it is going to be called The Flamingo Cafe. The sign will be neon. The structure will be an open-air tiki hut. True to my Indian roots, I will serve hot tea and spicy snacks through scorching summers. I might also have hot soups and ciabatta bread pizzas. The only cold beverages will be mango lassi, Kool-Aid, cantaloupe granitas, and, during Ramadan, falooda. There might be a fountain that customers can roll their pants up and dip their feet into. The chairs upon which they sit will be of the plastic lawn sort.
There will be a small, cozy inside section to the tiki hut, with books and books and books and books to take outside and read on the hammocks. Wi-fi will, of course, be provided free-of-charge. If somehow I can get a dolphin, there will be a dolphin.

dust

2009-05-12T14:53:00.000-07:00

I have identified three aspects of the Rio Grande Valley as Particular Impositions. They are: the sun; the wind; and the dust.

Between the first two, there is no relief. There is heat, interrupted--though these interruptions grow less intense as the nights grow shorter--by the wind, which then rattles my eardrums. They both force my eyes shut and find ways into my home, overwhelming the AC or music with which I seek to drown both out.

The dust, akin to heat and wind only insomuch as they exasperate one another, must be considered as a monster in its own right. It is not incessant. But when it is, it overwhelms. It obstructs; it chokes; it scratches. I see it clouding at my feet with every misstep and behind cars with any swerve. It is so grainy on overheated skin and so everywhere after unexpected gusts of wind.

And even though the dust is not always, when I imagine the Valley, it settles itself onto everything.

I miss New Orleans

2009-05-06T20:17:00.000-07:00

and Who Cakes in New Orleans, or rather, Kenner

2009-05-05T19:27:00.000-07:00

Lately I have been considering and discussing writing a blog post on God billboards, but I can't seem to get around to actually doing it.

As I write this, I'm switching back and forth between my blog tab, a tab with a New York Times piece on concentration, a tab with a New York Times article on genius, and facebook. The first article explains that I can't actually be reading/writing all this at once and am losing productivity in the process; the second tells me that if I were to just focus on writing, I might become a great writer; and facebook is so much fun that I'll never get around to developing "a deliberate, strenuous and boring practice routine" and stick to it and become a genius.

What gets me is this:
1) In order to reach one's full potential, one must be able to concentrate.
2) In order to concentrate, one must be able to tune out other stimuli.
3) I can't tune out facebook. How are my students supposed to tune out hunger, abuse, violence, drug- and alcohol-addicted parents, poverty, and just being teenagers?

I always, always tell my kids that they CAN develop their brains into anything. They can be smart enough to do anything, to become anything. They are not inherently anything--anyone can shape themselves into anything.
I do believe that whole-heartedly. I COULD tune out facebook, and they could tune out reality.

I also know, that my genius kids, all else tuned out, will have to work 7 million times harder to be on par with their wealthier counterparts. They've already lost years of practice and learning that others have on them. And it kills me how much potential and intellect is lost--cures for cancer and hilarious comedy shows and historical perspective--because so few of them believe that the 7 million times harder work will actually pay off. Because so few of them even know what that--genius, discovery, innovation--looks like. And, of course, my students are NOT stupid, even the most difficult of them, they've just focused on all the more immediately stimulating things.

I don't know really what more to say. It's just heartbreaking. As a teacher, it's basically my point to refocus them. But to this effect, and to their overwhelmed brains and bodies, I'm kind of beside the point. What I teach is often no where near the point. And for many of my little kiddies, there is no point.

2009-04-15T20:53:00.000-07:00

It is really one of the most wonderful feelings to recognize oneself in another's writing. I don't mean finding which characters were inspired by you in friends' stories; but rather, realizing that your emotions can, and have, been put into words. Sometimes I don't even know that I'm feeling something until I see that it is capable of being felt.

I'm getting married soonish. I never took marriage or love or gross stuff like that seriously before. It seemed irrational and oppressive. But now,

Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,

absentminded. Someone sober

will worry about things going badly.

Let the lover be.

From Essential Rumi

by Coleman Barks

I wish I had a dreamy photograph that I could insert here.

You know,

2009-02-20T14:54:00.001-08:00

it amazes me that I can

1) look into a place
2) take pictures of that place
3) yell hello and have a yelled conversation with the people in that place
4) hear the same birds and river noises as those people
5) fish the same water as those people
6) probably be hit by a well-launched water balloon from those people

but I can't
1) walk a couple hundred feet to shake hands and picnic with those people without violating international laws.

Note to Self: Look into legality of cross-border water fight.

Last Saturday

2009-02-17T20:07:00.001-08:00

I spent the late afternoon at Anzaldua Park and Dam, on the Rio Grande, taking photos and reading. People from both sides went into the river to fish. At most, the water was chest-deep; I guess because of the dam. The water gushing through it filled the air with a gentle roaring. The sound and the sun made me sleepy. The book kept me awake.
I believe the park will end up on the Mexico side of the border wall, even though it's in the United States. One of these days, I'll want to lie down again on the sticker-filled grass, and I'll need a passport.
I could walk across the river. What would they do, deport me?

Why are the pictures so small and blurry?

Aqui.

2009-01-27T14:24:00.000-08:00

South Texas is the only place I've lived that gives me a sense of the roundness of the Earth. The sky is not an endless expanse; if I look far enough past the dryness, I can detect a curvature in the land. Above it, the crystalline blue ceases to be a canopy, but rather becomes a blinding white wall I might, at any moment, roll in to.

And there's little here in this misnomer of a Valley to keep me from doing so. It lacks the opposites-attract pull of my family. It lacks the heaviness of buildings erected on the winning side of history. It lacks the cradle of live oaks clearly demarcating the roads and paths. Here, I depend on my own sense of balance and stability to keep from tumbling into the place where blueness fades into nothing.

I gave my copy of this book away.

2009-01-18T09:57:00.000-08:00

This novel, by Jane Bowles, is one of the most immediately weird books I've ever read. It's striking: the characters weren't memorable because they remind me of someone I know; rather, they're memorable because I'll never meet anyone like them. Within the first few pages, one of the 'serious ladies,' as of yet just a girl, undresses one of her friends, puts her in a burlap sack, covers her in mud, and insists that she go into a stream to "purify herself." Miss Goering, as the central lady is called, plays versions of this game--called "I forgive you of all your sins"--throughout the novel, with "an active inner voice that curtailed her observation of whatever went around outside her."
In the book's final pages, having finished another such a game with a series of spurned, obsessed, and comical lovers, she asks herself, in a lost moment of insight, "is it possible that a part of me hidden from my sight is piling sin upon sin?" It's a terrifying moment--in it, I asked myself the same. Maybe I have no idea. I can't even answer this question. If, perhaps, something is hidden from myself, I wouldn't even know. Not even right now, as I consider it.
The novel, described by Millicent Dillon, Bowles' biographer, is "a series of repetitions, variations on a theme." It offers me yet another character with a fate to fear: the other "serious lady", Mrs Copperfield. She's not Miss Goering's diametrically opposed foil, but rather an alter-ego, a reverberation. Where the pattern of Miss Goering's behavior follows the scene of a young girl forcing another into the water; Mrs Copperfield will not approach the ocean until taken by the hand. She is "interested only in a bearable life" and guards her happiness "life a wolf." Like Miss Goering, Mrs Copperfield is oblivious to her repetitive behavior. She ignores the path of destruction she leaves behind as easily as Miss Goering fails to notice herself burning the path before her.
And I wonder--would I even know if the world around me were in shambles? Maybe someone would tell me. The other characters in Two Serious Ladies, however, only serve to highlight the tendencies of the two women. They are simply too absurd to mean much in their own right. Peggy Gladys, for example, is a rich, eloquent seventeen year old half-Irish, half-Javanese Panamanian girl who chases after Mrs Copperfield. Her 'point' is not so much that Mrs Copperfield is irresistible, or that there was a plethora of women with unexpected backgrounds around Panama at the time; instead, she illustrates Mrs Copperfield's tastes. Peggy is too young, too dependent for her. Mrs Copperfield avoids the beautiful young girl because she needs someone to lead her into the water. There's something pathetic about the drunk child waiting, sitting on a barstool as Mrs Copperfield runs off to find Pacifica. At the same time, the sheer ridiculousness of an rich, well-spoken, beautiful, Irish-Javanese-Panamanian girl chasing after a middle-aged woman, an “old hen”, who is chasing after an old hen Spanish whore, is just silly. Similarly, Miss Goering's two housemates Arnold and Miss Gamelon, move in with her after only just meeting her. The characters are ludacris--Arnold unexpectedly nicknames Miss Gamelon "Bubbles" in the middle of the text--

Blah, I've been working on this for days and can't figure out where to go with this. I should probably write it without such an awful academic tone.
Either way, read the book. Give me your copy when you finish.

Being Healthy

2009-01-12T18:33:00.000-08:00

I'm taking a multi-vitamin now; it's called "Kid Vits." I chew 2 a day and I'm not sure that I feel any healthier.

I've also been making an effort to get Vitamin D. So, yesterday I walked forever at the World Birding Center that's a few miles from my house. "Birding" sounds to me like something that wouldn't be good for the birds, but really it's just looking for/at birds. Apparently, it's very popular. Of course, I didn't go for the birds, nor did I really see many. It was warm and sunny and January is the place to be.

I have pictures but lack the internet connection to load them.

The Two Best Poems

2009-01-06T20:35:00.000-08:00

In The Arc Of Your Mallet
by Jalāl ad-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī

Don't go anywhere without me.
Let nothing happen in the sky apart from me,
or on the ground, in this world or that world,
without my being in its happening.
Vision, see nothing I don't see.
Language, say nothing.
The way the night knows itself with the moon,
be that with me. Be the rose
nearest to the thorn that I am.

I want to feel myself in you when you taste food,
in the arc of your mallet when you work,
when you visit friends, when you go
up on the roof by yourself at night.

There's nothing worse than to walk out along the street
without you. I don't know where I'm going.
You're the road, and the knower of roads,
more than maps, more than love.

(translated by Coleman Barks)

A Valediction Forbidding Mourning
by John Donne

As virtuous men pass mildly away,
And whisper to their souls to go,
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
"Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."

So let us melt, and make no noise,
No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys
To tell the laity our love.

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
Men reckon what it did, and meant ;
But trepidation of the spheres,
Though greater far, is innocent.

Dull sublunary lovers' love
—Whose soul is sense—cannot admit
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove
The thing which elemented it.

But we by a love so much refined,
That ourselves know not what it is,
Inter-assurèd of the mind,
Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.

Our two souls therefore, which are one,
Though I must go, endure not yet
A breach, but an expansion,
Like gold to aery thinness beat.

If they be two, they are two so
As stiff twin compasses are two ;
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show
To move, but doth, if th' other do.

And though it in the centre sit,
Yet, when the other far doth roam,
It leans, and hearkens after it,
And grows erect, as that comes home.

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,
And makes me end where I begun.

Oh, and this poem is so good, too:

Poem
by Frank O'Hara

Lana Turner has collapsed!
I was trotting along and suddenly
it started raining and snowing
and you said it was hailing
but hailing hits you on the head
hard so it was really snowing and
raining and I was in such a hurry
to meet you but the traffic
was acting exactly like the sky
and suddenly I see a headline
LANA TURNER HAS COLLAPSED!
there is no snow in Hollywood
there is no rain in California
I have been to lots of parties
and acted perfectly disgraceful
but I never actually collapsed
oh Lana Turner we love you get up

I should be Lana Turner; but instead, I'm Rumi without Shams Tabrizi. Actually, I think I'm Shams.

Michelle Frizzle, Chancellor of D.C. Magic School Buses

2009-01-05T20:04:00.001-08:00

I whined to Neema yesterday that all I ever wanted to do anymore was shop. He said that I should start spending time writing again because it is something fulfilling to me.
Instead I'm blogging. I'm not sure if that's much of a cure. Over winter break, I facebook stalked lots of people and the most fabulous of the bunch blogged. Lots of them blogged about shopping. Once I had a Teach for America blog. I wrote about teacher clothes.

I'm a English/Language Arts teacher in a small town on the U.S.-Mexico border. I am torn between wanting to look like Ms. Frizzle from The Magic School Bus

and this description of Michelle Rhee, from a Time Magazine article:

She emerged from her chauffeured black SUV with two BlackBerrys and a cell phone and began walking--fast--toward the front door of the first school. She wore a black pencil skirt, a delicate cream blouse and strappy high heels. When we got inside, she walked into the first classroom she could find and stood to the side, frowning like a specter. When a teacher stopped lecturing to greet her, she motioned for the teacher to continue. Rhee smiled only when students smiled at her first.

I think I look somewhere in-between. I can't wear cream; I am too messy. I can't have a pet lizard; I am too irresponsible. I can't drive a school bus and I can't afford a chauffeur. I drive my own black SUV. High heels make my feet hurt and I have yet to find the perfect purple flats.

I crave shopping and write about clothes because I'm not sure I like teaching. I AM sure that I love biryani. Since I don't know how to make it, here's a recipe for cookies*:

Oh, great, I can't find my recipe for cookies. They're really good cookies, perfect with a cup of Earl Grey tea.

* I am not/refuse to be a "foodie."