"Verde"

Eres verde como la naturaleza,
como las ramas de un arbol en
en un pais de maravillas.
Me haces envejecer
con tus polvoras magicas
que hacen cantar a los pajaritos
y volar a las adas
y dar libertad a mi monstrosidad--
una desdicha que empudrece el alma
si se queda enjaulada
en la base logica del mazmorra,
donde incomoda al ser del centro,
ese paraiso que tiene la Tierra
(inmejorable entre todos los universos).
Verde, eres vida y eres muerte.
Verde como la gangrena,
la que corre por mis huesos,
y maligna como mi consciencia.
Verde como el musgo,
como la atmosfera
de un planeta extraterreste
en el espacio, en el unico lugar
que da aliento a mi bella fiera.

"Codigo de Conducto"

No te estas comportando como una señorita.
Entras a la hora que se te da la gana.
Te revuelcas en una fosa de vivoras, sin vergüenza,
preñas tu razon con el cancer de tu generación.
Una señorita no se comporta así.

Muchachita, ¿estas ciega?
Escoges un Don Quixote sobre un rey de la selva.
Andas de mal en peor, en vez de caminar gateas.
En plena flor marchitas tu madurez.
¿Que quieres de la vida?

Mujersita, estate tranquila.
Te la pasas arrebatando estambres.
Una señorita como tu
necesita un caballero en armadura brillante,
uno que te finque un castillo
en los acantilados Blancos de Dover,
para ser felices y comer perdices.

capricho de la naturaleza

que te hicieron?
te destrosaron,
te despedasaron la razon.
echarron a pudrir
todo menos tu alma—ese calor
que enfurece tu hombre lobo,
la bestia que aparece
cuando te hierve la calentura
entre las ramas
del huerto donde
florece la cereza.

Auxilio

Me rindo
me rindo.
Desgraciado,
desmadre de hombre,
hiciste un acuerdo
con mi corazon
sin pedirme permiso.
Ya ni me queda
la mascara
porque esta desgracia
apesta tanto que
no se puede ocultar.
Mas bien,
es una bendicion,
porque la razon
es una pobre
infeliz,
que no aya
el donde
ni el porcuando,
ni
razones.
En fin,
mantengo
esa fiera
enserrada,
esa manosa
que sale con
unas vavosadas
que me dejan
enjaulada,
atrapada,
retenida,
desmorada
hasta ser
un alto
frente
a
ti.

Apathy = A Dead Society

Directed to CSUN audience:

In the coffee shop the other day, my friend’s brother shared with me the following quote by Bobby Kennedy, “The future does not belong to those who are content with today, apathetic toward common problems and their fellow man alike, timid and fearful in the face of new ideas and bold projects.” How ironic, I thought, that Steven, my friend’s brother, who is mentally ill, brought this to my attention. I probably thought it ironic because I assumed that mentally ill people are unable to tell right from wrong, and that they can’t make decisions for themselves, therefore they can’t have a rational opinion of society. You know what I mean? My false assumptions aside, in sharing this quote with me, Steven was telling me that Bobby Kennedy was describing a problem with American society: people’s apathy.

Apathy is concurrent with a me first approach to life. We do not worry about our neighbors, heck, we don’t even know who our neighbors. At least, I don’t, let alone his or her problems. And who cares, right? It’s none of our business. This kind of attitude, this lack of concern or interest for others around us characterizes a large portion of our population. I’m sure it stems from the idea that each individual is responsible for their own problems, or better yet, as Curtis White observed, “we pursue our individual, socially isolated right to ‘life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,” even at the expense of others.

But the point I want to make is that all of us have responsibility, social responsibility. Steven, the guy who shared the quote with me, used to be a student at UC Berkeley, with the intention to enter medical school. His mental disorder got the better of him and stopped him from furthering his education. He’s not well, in the sense that his behavior threatens his safety and that of others. He needs help. His family can barely stay afloat. His mother works a minimum wage job, barely able to support herself. She is also like my mother, a person who immigrated to this country, and who depends on her daughter to do most things that require the use of English because she can’t speak it that well. Steven’s sister also struggles like their mother. She works three jobs, sometimes seven days a week. Her rent, bills, credit card and student loans are what has her working more than one job. Both mom and sister, the only caregivers in Steven’s life, are struggling to make ends meet.

Steven needs attention. He needs his family to be there with him when his disease gets the better of him. He needs someone to be there while he goes back and forth from mania to depression. He needs to be looked at the way one would look after a child. His family doesn’t have the time nor money to do that. They can’t intern him anywhere, not even jail. The psychiatrists offer no alternative therapies for his disorder. Sometimes he doesn’t take his meds. His mother and sister can’t monitor him all the time because both work, and they can’t afford paying someone to do it for them. That would be a viable solution, hiring someone to care for him when they’re not around. The problem is there’s no money.

Having more money gets you the help that you need. Money guarantees better services, access to quality healthcare. And this is where the problem lies. More people will do more for money. Shit, even I’ll do more for money. I’ll take on more classes because I’ll get more money, because earning more money means I get to pay off my student loans much faster so I can finally have money to buy myself a house, and fufill my American Dream. But if I take on more classes, at what cost? The degradation in the quality of the education I provide my students? All of us are willing to do more for money because more money means a happier life, right? Surely my friend would be happier if she had hired help for her brother. And surely, hospitals having more money might provide better services for patients. Money is what these hospitals lack, money is what many of us lack. Certainly, all of us know the CSU system lacks money, otherwise I wouldn’t be getting 10% deducted from my wages this semester, and you wouldn’t have be getting a tuition increase this year, and, let’s face it, next year too.

My point with all this is this, at what point do we step in and say, okay, what the fuck is going on here? How can we make things a little better for ourselves?

It ails me to see my friend continuously struggling to help her brother. I want to help. But how can I? Am I helping already? Is being a college teacher doing my part? Is writing a play about blaming social irresponsibility as the cause of death for so many Americans also a part of helping? Is it me questioning whether or not I’m doing enough?

I think Bobby Kennedy would smile right about now.

Looking Back On Now

From one extreme to the other. Hot and cold. Day and Night. No in between. Like a fucking nut that can’t understand the word sanity. There’s no reasoning with her. So much has been lost. How much has been stolen. Unable to regain a voice for those furies. Always looking back, always making sure to do the right thing. While he just keeps on walking, threading joyfully along, not picking up his mess, too self-absorbed to see how his self-indulgence enslaves me. Originally, this was supposed to be about the ying and yang. About this uncontrollable untamable mind. It has to be one or the other. No moderation. Doesn’t exist in her vocabulary. Yet.

All that Is Certain Is that Nothing is Certain

Among the several jobs I have, secretary to a landlord is one of them. I've been working for this "Uncle Scrooge" before I even started college. Me and this guy go way back. I've seen his business grow tenfold, just as much as he's seen me grow too. My work in his rental business involves writing letters to tenants, mortgage companies, the city, the county, the state, etc.; I also schedule repairs on units, run credit/eviction checks on prospective tenants, and do anything that at all that requires internet access. Uncle Scrooge has little patience with computers and the internet and often complains about technology and the need for live customer assistance. Recently, he received several postcards from the Kern County Assessor's office. These cards were notices informing him of the new value of each property he owns in Bakersfield.
For one property alone, the new market value of the property was 326,000 less than what he originally paid. Overnight he lost several hundred thousand dollars and is still paying the mortgage of the original value, not the new market value.

For me this was disheartening, seeing how this guy was the typical American Dream story, an immigrant who worked hard, pulled himself up from his bootstraps and went from rags to riches. He believed, I mean, believes in this system whole heartedly. He says, you win some you lose some. But to me, I see it as ideas, words, and numbers are not fixed. They are determined by a stronger force--in this case, an economic one: the decline in the housing market that resulted from the Wall Street Bailout and the subprime mortgage crisis. Uncle Scrooge is paying the price for it, but he still hold on to his American Dream.

What should the dreams of the younger generations look like? Do we dream that one day we too can have our OWN home without some entity dictating its worth? or is that dream never possible?

Chance

Occasionally I come across a woman sitting under a tree in front of her apartment when I walk my dog. I've only started talking with her because my dog gravitates toward any human being that pays her attention. This morning I learned a little bit about her, that her and her husband work from home and that works out for them because of their daughter. She's about 8 years old and they can't seem to hold her attention for less than a couple of minutes. Not at home, not in the playground, and not even at school. School seems to be the most problematic because the teacher already has her hands full with a class full of students. She says she has ADD, and she refuses to put her on any medication. She loves her too much to take the quick-fix drug route. From the research she's done, she gathered that putting her on meds will fuck her up in the short and long term. So this is why she's always under that tree, with her teary eyes and red nose, praying for help or some sort of relief, because she doesn't know what to do.

What struck me the most was that she said the girl was her stepdaughter. Did she see this coming when she married the girl's father? Probably not, and if she did it didn't matter much because she adored the man. I don't think any of us can accurately foresee the trails and tribulations that lie ahead of us. We go into things, whether they're relationships, projects, businesses, deals, investments, you name it, with some sort of idea that things can go wrong, and never fully understanding what or how to prepare for it. But that's life for you. That's how it works. I think that no matter what you choose, there's always gonna be tests a long the way. So while you might expect everything to be peaches and cream, there's no doubt things at some point will be too uncomfortable, but not impossible, to handle.

I wanna taste her honey

Community Meetings Inviting Angelinos to Share Their Desires for What They Would Like to See in Their New Chief of Police

This is what the title reads of a flier that was passed on to me. The Los Angeles Police Commission is holding a series of forums for Angelin@s to give their two cents on what the qualities they want to see in their new police chief. I was stunned that meetings like these actually take place. Is it the first time the police commission does this? I've been deprived of democracy in many aspects of life that when I see things like these it reminds me that minces of it are scattered around, you just have to find it. Though I know much of the history of the department (e.g. the violence, corruption, racism) through film portrayals, archived pictures, and first-hand accounts, an event such as this one calls for my attention. Perhaps because I'm an optimist, because despite the fact that capital predetermines all types of social order--hence the founding of the LAPD after the Gold Rush--here is a chance to voice my opinion on what I want and don't want to see in the police chief that governs my city. I say this because oftentimes I am one to whine about how bad things are but never do anything about it. And maybe these forums are just a facade because in the end THEY will elect who THEY think is better suited for a job in one of the most diverse cities in the world. And maybe our voices in these forums will be too low because there's only a handful of us in attendance. But the accountability that this meeting brings forth is key. I mean this in terms of having the right to make demands when what was promised is not even close to being met. So in case you are interested in attending, here are the dates, times, and places for the last two forums:

September 9, 2009 6:30
Felicia Mahood Senior Center
11338 Santa Monica Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90025

September 10, 2009 6:30
18255 Victory Boulevard
Reseda, CA 91335

*All meetings will be attended by two Police Commissioners and will be facilitated by Police Commission Executive Director Richard Tefank.

Obama's Life & Mine

Have you ever read a book that you're glad you read because it somehow sheds light into your life? I've felt this way with J.D. Salinger's "The Catcher in the Rye." I read it when I was 16 and I felt like I was Holden Caulfield. I was confused about life and thought everyone except me was a phony. The book comforted me by making me realize these thoughts were normal and that I wasn't alone on this.

This is the way I felt when I read Obama's autobiography "Dreams From My Father", that I wasn't alone in terms of an identity crisis I was going through. Who knew I had one, right? I was confused about myself up until I read this book. This book has helped me understand the what it means to be Mexican-American.

After receiving my MA in English followed by teaching a Chicano Studies class, I realized that I wasn't sure about what direction to go in. It was because of this class that I ended up hanging around with friends who lived in the town by where I grew up. Hanging with these friends in East Los was a breath of fresh air for me. It felt that way because I had not been around these people and these places since I left Highland Park and graduated high school. It was so refreshing to be back. It was a world I was familiar with. I shared common experiences with the individuals I came across, whether it was speaking Spanish, practicing Mexican customs and traditions, and or simply growing up in the streets of LA.

By being exposed to this world I realized that education and the dominant American ideology had sucked me into a vacuum from which I didn't get out of until I read this book. Obama was conflicted about being Black and American. It wasn't until he traced his African-American history as well as his father's African roots that he realized being an African-American is a puzzle that has dictated his life until now. For me, my parents are both from Mexico and I knew about their roots and history, but I knew little about being Mexican-American until I went back to the places I had grown up in and seeing how much I had left behind. This is helping me explain why I feel more complete now than I did before and understand myself better. Which leads me to conclude with that cliche saying, "you don't know where you're going until you know where you've been."

The Hanged Man

According to folk, the hanged man comes down from the tree when he gains illumination. Time stands still while he hangs on the tree. Observing, absorbing, seeing. In tarot, the hanged man represents inversion. A change of perspective. Suspending your thinking for a moment and letting new things in. The need for growth. The process is often uncomfortable. You move from one stage of life into another. Change. Painful but healthy. This card strikes a cord for me. I've been fixated on what's next for me. I finished school, I'm working. What's next? I feel like I've been in limbo. I'm a goal-driven person; for me, idleness equates to self-destruction that is a product of some type of malady for which the only cure is labor. And so, I am suspending my thoughts, looking at the world upside down, turning the hourglass on its other head.

"Calma, calma, que no panda el cunico,"

says El Chapulin Colorado--arguably, the best Mexican superhero ever. The closest phrase I can think of in translation is "don't panic." It's what we hear during a nervous breakdown. Which makes sense cause when you think about it, people panic because they're scarred. It's fear of the unknown. Fear paralyzes. I feel paralyzed at home. Not necessarily paralyzed but helpless to a daily situation that has been ailing me for years. It's between a couple. They are a pair that doesn't match. This is evident to me almost everyday of my life. How can it not, I live with them. I see how one of them makes life a living hell for the other. I can help end this cycle by suggesting a way out. And so my moral dilemma is whether or not to participate. From a psychological standpoint, this is devastating for me because I've seen this couple together all my life. I don't know how life would be for me without the two together. I've never fully cut the umbilical cord. I am afraid of what's going to happen when they split. Roles will be reversed. Which will be mine? (sigh) I'm not sure yet.

relationships+balance=?

It's easy to forget who you are when you're in a relationship. You get so fixated on the other person you forget your daily routine. You forget about doing your laundry, about your job, about your debt, about all those things that make up your life. You get so consumed in the other person. I get scared when I recognize it. Cause I notice that I forget about the world. I'm not sad or mad. The things that had been bothering me before all of a sudden disapear when I'm with that other person. And when I leave that person and enter the other world alone, I enter it peacefully, with a new set of eyes. But at the same time, I enter it preoccupied with the other person. So it's a constant back and forth pull. Which leads me to believe that relationships are hard work, especially for me because I suck at balancing. I always sway too much to one side. I never stay in one spot. I move around alot (my RLS, short attention span, and the fact that I suck at yoga balancing poses is proof). I know that the middle ground is balance. But how do I balance?