Where Vivid Narratives Live

Not Doing It for the Money

This past Saturday, I had the opportunity to speak out against something that has been one of my biggest challenges to educating my students here in Austin, the lethal effects of high-stakes testing. The Citizens United to Amend organized a rally in order to change the legislation that equated money with free speech and declared corporations as people. This action has far-reaching ramifications and the speakers at the rally came from vastly different organizations to encourage the crowd to call on their representatives to do away with this law.

As I approached the State Capitol, I saw a huge crowd of people gathered at the north side, which was the opposite location of where I expected them to be. As I came closer, I saw several banners with assault rifles on them. I walked slowly through the crowd of second amendment enthusiasts to the south side of the Capitol where a dramatically smaller crowd of about 100 people stood.

I felt inspired, listening to the other speakers encouraging us to do all we could to get big money out of politics. I knew that the president of Education Austin was scheduled to speak, but I did not realize that another teacher was also on the line up. I briefly worried that she’d say the things I’d planned to say, but her speech was dedicated to speaking against corporate-funded charter schools and their lobbying groups.

I was the third educator to speak and unlike my predecessors, I didn’t have my speech (pasted below in its entirety) memorized. Instead, I read my one-page, single-spaced speech off my smartphone, which wasn’t too smart an idea, given the fact that I was facing direct sunlight. Nonetheless, I delivered my speech with as much verve as I do my usual spoken word performance. As soon as I was done, the crowd applauded, several people congratulated me and a cute little blonde girl handed me a piece of paper, which I figured was an announcement for an upcoming education rally. I thanked her without reading it and folded it into my pocket for later.

Once “later” came, I remembered the paper, took it out of my pocket and much to my surprise, it was a flyer about the pro gun rally! I don’t know if her parents intentionally wanted their daughter to give a teacher a pro gun flyer or if they had encouraged her to hand them out indiscriminately. Either way, I’m glad she gave me the reminder to complain about the enthusiasm of arming educators.

Of all the crazy ideas that I’ve heard since living in Texas, intentionally putting weapons in the hands of educators is one that hits very close to home. Not only would that increase school shootings, but the increase in liability alone should make this bad idea undoable. Yet, if anyone actually figures out a way to make this bad idea cost-effective, public school will become one of the most dangerous places to send one’s child. The next “logical” step will be programs where future teachers could earn their combined teaching and gun license!

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Over twenty years ago, one of the prevailing mantras that new teachers were told was that one did not go into education for the money. You entered the profession because you cared about kids. Today, we need to make sure that everyone, not just new teachers, hears that message.

With the growing number of corporations getting into the education business, we educators, parents and students need to be vigilant that the quality of education is not sacrificed for the sake of making big business even richer at the cost of our students.

Isn’t ironic that there’s always money to administer standardized tests, hire test coordinators, buy computers for students to take an electronic version of the test, but never enough money to hire more teachers to lower classroom size or even fund an adequate number of science experiments? The only hands-on activity that Texas public school students are absolutely guaranteed to do is bubble an answer document to a standardized test.

That’s because the state of Texas will have spent over a billion dollars from 2000 to 2015 to Pearson Education. With that much money directed to a standardized testing company, it’s no wonder why I’m forced to teach to the test. The truth is, for the most academically vulnerable students, the best strategy to improve their education is to lower the classroom size so that every student receives more one-on-one interaction with the teacher. Academic achievement is not accomplished through an increasing number of money-making high-stakes tests.

When corporations use their money to influence how public schools are run, they effectively silence us, the public. Our tax dollars that are earmarked for education should be used in a manner that best educate our students. As long as we remain silent, corporations will continue lobbying to safeguard their latest cash cow.

Over the past four years that I’ve been a teacher with AISD, I have watched my classroom size grow, the teaching staff shrink and more of my time consumed in preparing for and proctoring standardized tests. I’m forced to merely touch the surface of certain topics with the rationale that students only need to know enough to pass whichever standardized test that’s currently being bought.

The objectives should not be the limit of knowledge, but rather the basis of what students learn. I struggle to give my students more, but I’m confined by time constraints, assessment schedules and very limited resources.

What I can do, however, is speak up. I speak for my students who don’t realize how their education is being shortchanged. I speak up for parents who, whenever I call, they are always willing to do anything in their power to help their child be successful. And I speak for my fellow educators who give 110%, knowing full well that they will not be paid a cent more.

Thinking Creatively, Fearlessly and Wildly

Lately, I’ve been reading books about fostering creativity and this past Tuesday I attended a “meeting” for business women. It turned out to be more of a travelling pep rally for women who want to pursue their dreams. The event started at the yoga studio where I take classes three times a week.

I felt sacrilegious wearing my boots in the actual yoga studio space, but after we watched two champion yogis, who were also instructors, we did some breathing exercises and one posture. Then came the moment I’d been waiting for although I didn’t know it at the time. The inspirational speaker for the evening told us her story of being fired, then leading a small class of ten women through an exercise bootcamp. She had her clients use a piece of equipment during the bootcamp, which she kept bugging the company about making 100% green. She bugged them about this so much that they told her that she should buy the company.

So she did!

With all the power and energy her tiny stature could muster, she encouraged us to follow our dreams, think wildly and never give up. It was something that I knew in theory, but needed a booster.

We travelled to a nearby beauty salon, received more free goodies and I took the opportunity to network, passing out Austin Writers Roulette flyers like crazy to everyone who I spoke with. At our last stop, which was a restaurant, I had my opportunity to speak with the guest of honor in person. She was so warm and attentive that I felt self-conscious about taking up so much of her time, but one thing that she corrected me on was something that had been holding me back for a while.

Although I visualize a packed room for every roulette, there’s always this nagging fear that I’ll never make money from my creative efforts and will be condemned to work for other people, not necessarily enjoying what I’m doing. She pointed out that as long as I thought that way, I’ll remain in my present situation. She told me that I should think of my dream as a huge tree that needs to be planted in a large area rather than in a small pot.

That fuelled me just in time for today’s roulette. I know that I’m more prepared than ever before. We’re at a new location. I don’t need to set up a lot of stuff. I don’t need a team of volunteers. I’ve lowered the overhead. I have a wonderful line up. Everything’s in place. All I have to do is follow through, follow up and adjust my game plan to maximize future success.

After all, I’ve been on this path for seven months now. I know far more than I did seven months ago. By the close of January, I will have spoken publicly on three occasions, which is three times my original spoken presentation goal last year. Just being the organizer of such an event means that I’ve helped bring a creative space once a month that did not previously exist.

Once I figure out how to sustain it and grow it, then I’ll be in the position where I want to be. And it all starts by thinking creatively, wildly and fearlessly.

Different Tribes

It’s been scientifically proven that the idea of race is unscientific. Even when we talk about the “human race,” what we are actually referring to is “species.” (The definition of a species is a population of organisms that can breed and produce fertile offspring.) With the influence of global media, people around the world can share common experiences and exchange ideas. The pursuit of technological advances in all disciplines cause the walls of bigotry, violence, poverty, and despotism to come crumbling down.

Our collective enlightenment motivates us to seek kindred spirits, regardless of nationality, ethnicity, and gender. Instead, what has begun to emerge is a redefinition of “tribe.” Traditionally, tribes have been thought of as closely genetic-related people who share the same customs, yet even within blood-related family members, we witness such a difference of lifestyle, politics and beliefs, the only common denominator is common ancestors. A popular belief is that you choose your friends, but you cannot choose your family. As experience and innumerable examples have shown, just because two people are very genetically similar, does not mean that they are going to get along.

It’s natural for people to gravitate toward like-minded individuals and become friends. For every hobby, political outlook, or passion, there is at least one social group where someone can periodically congregate. The more often the group meets, the more time individuals have an opportunity to participate in group-think. This is the grassroots of tribe formation.

Depending on the tribe, a lot of diversity, in terms of how groups of people used to be categorized and artificially separated, can be reflected among the members. With this phenomenon in mind, I reflect on the many tribes I belong to. I am a member of my family tribe, a tribe of educators, a tribe of writers, a tribe of dancers, a tribe of capoeiristas, a tribe of college-educated people, a tribe of heterosexual women.

Now some may argue, why should I say “a tribe of writers” rather than “a tribe of artists”? Or why should I include the adjective “heterosexual” rather than simply say that I belong to “a tribe of women”? I welcome such questions since, they reflect the very reason why “race” became unscientific concept. Depending upon the criteria, the outcome will be different! I can comfortably belong to the tribe of women as long as there is no criterion of being either married or a mother. Some languages, such as Swahili, reflect this girl/woman bias since the title for a “woman” is “mama” and the word for “girl” reflects having an unbroken hymen.

I like the idea of social tribes because of its flexibility, given the situation. It also shows that people can change tribes in order to reflect who they happen to be at the moment in their lives. Such fluidity would lead us to explore other avenues, knowing that knowledge and experience is not confined to blood relations or geopolitical borders. The proliferation of social tribes encourages a continuous exercise of critical thinking and reading.

As humankind advances, the social tribes will emerge and survive as the result of enlightenment and cooperation.

I’m Rich! I’m Awesome!

The annual Christmas trip back home to visit my family, including nieces and nephews, went as predicted: lots of laughs, stories, trivial bickering, far too much food and far too little exercise. Within seven days, I only managed to gain six pounds and do a half set of bikram yoga twice and something that one of my little nieces called a “cheerleader’s workout,” which consisted of many backbends in a row and different stretches to improve doing the splits.

What I lacked in physical exercise, I made up for in creative productivity. I read a lot of poetry by one of my friends. I earmarked the poems which I felt would work in the upcoming “New Dreams & Visions” roulette on January 13th. Then, over the course of several days, I finally completed the “100 African Americans Everyone Should Know” powerpoint that I’d promised to make for the upcoming African American history event at school. Logically, I should have done this over the summer, but I was so engrossed in putting together The Austin Writers Roulette that I kidded myself that I would work on it in my spare time at school since I was only teaching one prep. Ha!

Since this was my third Christmas since living in Austin, I was determined to continue my tradition of giving Texas-themed gifts. Some received jewelry in the shape of the Lone Star state. Others received iconic symbols, but everyone received a gift that was made by a local Austin artist.

Two wonderful gifts came in the form of visits by friends of the family. My nieces and nephew’s godmother came on Christmas day, bearing gifts and sharing dinner with us. Another fabulous visit came the day before I hopped on another plane to return to Austin. One of my Peace Corps friends came over, bringing her three beautiful and adorable children and one of their friends, who’s referred to as a “cousin.” Toward the end of their visit, the youngest child, a precocious five and a half year old started running through the house, singing at the top of her lungs, “I’m rich! I’m awesome! I got money! Gonna take a shower with my money!” after getting a winfall during a game of Life.

I’m certain when I was that age, I didn’t know the word “awesome,” but I recognize the energy and showmanship of the youngest child, especially the third of three. So, from one youngest child to another, I’m going to shout my joy and blessings all the way into 2013!

Down Home Again

I faced a little more drama than usual on my annual Christmas trip home. First of all, the famous “Mayan End of the World” countdown came to a heads the day before I hopped on a plane. Since the world didn’t come to end, as I knew it wouldn’t, I finished up my Christmas shopping at a very reasonable price.

For some reason, my plane was delayed by two hours. The weather in Austin was a perfectly balmy day, but I think the conditions where the plane was coming from was the problem. Nonetheless, the flight back home was uneventful, given the delay and all the babies on board.

Much to my surprise, Virgina was not as cold as I’d anticipated. Since it’s so dry, the drop in temperature was not as dramatic as it would have been in moisture-rich Austin. So much of my enjoyment of my visit back home has to do with just simple physical comfort. I’ve not had much use for a heavy winter’s jacket since I left Egypt in 2003; so I rely on lots of layers.

One side benefit of traveling is catching up on my reading. Fellow prolific poets have given me their makeshift poetry books to read and they’ve been sitting on my desk at home. Now, I’m slowly making my way through them. There are several writing projects and a powerpoint that I’m also putting together…I will love the day when I can fulfill my full-time artist fantasy.

Saving the best for last, my parents, other sister and nephew have finally arrived and we all went out to dinner. Now we’re going to relish lots of food, conversation and laughing…the real gifts.

New Dreams and Visions

As a quintessential Virgo, I never stop planning ahead. The close of any year usually brings the global introspection of what we want to do for the new year. People make frivolous resolutions to start exercising more, eating healthier, perhaps even looking for a new job, love or something more unconventional.

As for me, one of the goals that I had for 2012 after filing my taxes was becoming a millionaire. Since then, I discovered several different ways not to make a profit. Nonetheless, I feel successful because I started my own event, The Austin Writers Roulette. One of the many things that I learned in the process was how to apply my organizational and analysis skills to a new situation. I fumbled in the beginning with all the details of putting together a show. What I came up with was a terrific line up that needed better promotion and a bigger audience to appreciate the poets and spoken word artists who were gathering together once a month to read their theme-based works.

Promoting in such a happening town such as Austin is a challenge. There’s definitely a huge crowd of people who are interested in poetry and spoken word, but those same people are also interested in many other things as well. I’ve felt in direct competition with other venues that have much bigger PR budgets and more people whose full-time jobs were to promote their venue.

One resolution I made two months before the New Year season of resolution-making was to move the roulette to a more viable location, one that had a stage, lights, chairs, tables, a kick-ass friendly and supportive staff, and an impressive PR campaign. I found all the preceding at Strange Brew.

Once I landed a place in their schedule, Carmencita, my right arm, updated our 2013 flyers to reflect their address and I got 2500 postcard sized flyers printed up and started enthusiastically passing them out. So many people claim to love that coffee shop/cyber cafe and to live “just down the street” from it. I’m no longer naive to believe that just because someone says that they’re going to come to a show, they’ll actually do it, but at least they already know where the place is!

Another change that I’ve already put into action is to contact certain artists with a personal email in addition to the all call for submissions. Now that I’ve gotten to know certain artists and they have performed on the roulette a time or two, I’m slowly building a nucleus of artists whose work is good quality and varied in their approach to the theme.

I’m going to continue going to at other venues at least once a week in order to promote, recruit and possibly participate. Truthfully, I need to attend more than once a week, but in reality, as long as I have a full-time job, going once a week will be as much as I can handle when not on vacation.

In the long term, I’ll carry over my resolution to become a millionaire. I’m quite conscience about how much money I’m spending and plan to save as much as I can. I still maintain that money can buy happiness with the right set of priorities. I plan to be much happier in my life as I transition into being a full-time artist.

No Hotdogging Around

This past week at school has been intense. Not because of the students or, miraculously, the administrators. I’m in the final countdown of the number of classes until my little ghetto brats take their finals. In the upcoming week, I’ve three more days with my A classes and only two more with the Bs. Fortunately, the only good thing that has come from the overemphasis of testing is that my B classes are a day ahead; so they’ll both finish up equally.

Nonetheless, in the last three class meetings leading up to the finals, I’m presenting new information without much moment of pause. I’d slowed down the pacing in the beginning of the semester in order to tutor my students during class time since the vast majority cannot fit tutoring in their teenage angst-ridden schedule or reconcile it as part of their habitual motivations. Now I can no longer afford the luxury of having them to do majority of their work in class, which means (gasp!) they actually have to complete their work outside of class, whether it’s at home or not.

This’ll be an intense time for me as well. One of the major goals that I accomplished by Friday morning was putting the final touches on the semester study guide and getting the guide photocopied to offer to the students. Out of all the students on Friday, only a handful in the last class of the day requested to have their study guide this coming Tuesday. I was impressed at least with the acknowledgement of most of the students that it was better to have their study guides sooner rather than later, especially since I warned them that we probably would not have any time during class to work on it together.

Saturday, my normal routine changed, but I remained just as busy. I started my morning writing, then I took a luxurious hour to work on three paintings. I’d checked out “How to Draw Magic and Fantasy” from the school library, but I only flipped through it since the weather was so beautiful that I could indulge in painting. I do all my sketching for when it’s too cold to go out on the balcony and paint. I then went to the capoeira studio to wait for the guy bringing 30 rental chairs for the last event that I’m hosting in that space.

After arranging the chairs in a circle, which is this month’s theme, I dashed off to pick up my new prescription glasses. I jokingly told the optometrist that I was merely swapping one set of birth control glasses with the next, but truthfully I’d picked out a stylish pair of new specs this time. I dashed from there to the library for a screening of “The Inconvenient Truth about Waiting for Superman.”

About 30 of us turned out for the hourlong film. I appreciated that the audience was small enough to allow for a good discussion, but large enough to have parents, students and educators mixed in. Viewing that movie, I felt more empowered about the work I’m doing in the classroom, given how there’s a national conspiracy against both public schools and veteran teachers. It’s no coincidence that, depending on the class, my student population ranges from 60 to 80+% at risk students. Thanks to the war against teachers two years ago, my class size has exploded, which means even less time can be dedicated per student. Now, the growing trend has been to intimidate veteran teachers into quitting or early retirement, starting with sudden negative evaluations, placing them on “growth plans” and other tactics to discourage veteran teachers who are more likely to call out questionable practices and cost more money.

Following the housing bust of three years ago, education is now poised as the biggest untapped market for hedgefund managers. In addition to the lucrative market represented by standardized testing, taking over public school space and monies in the form of corporation-run charter schools is the new money-making venture.

Essentially, corporations have far more money to lobby the politicians, who will readily throw working-class and poor parents under the bus along with their kids. As a charter school, they can cherry-pick the students who will give them the high scores on standardized tests. If the selected students don’t perform well, then they kick them out of the charter school, retaining the “good” students who increase the overall test scores and concentrating the at risk students in regular public schools. And for all the corporate money and deck stacking, their students overall are not better educated in vast numbers as one would expect, given the fact that virtually none of the corporate-run charters accept students with learning disabilities or English fluency issues.

Part of the reason is that, like a business, corporate-run charters attempt to keep costs low. Inexperienced teachers are cheaper and as soon as they burn out, then the business can just hire the latest batch of inexpensive, energetic, inexperienced teachers to educate the cherry-picking. Disgusting.

The ray of hope at the end of the discussion was the fact that the recently elected school board members are against this latest corporate-run charter and will have the ability to stop the spread of the infection. In addition, there is a survey available that anyone can weigh in on about the newfangled standardized test, STAAR. I cannot wait to share my two cents!

After the meeting, I quickly whipped up my lunch for the week, and got myself together to go shopping with some capoeira friends and then hangout at a sports bar. One of my ulterior motives for being a part of girls’ night out was to survey other women about a certain sexual practice, which we codenamed “eating hotdogs.” As with virtually any sexual conversation, we had a lively discussion, arriving at 10 pros and 28 cons of eating hotdogs. I’m eventually going to type up my findings for a piece which I plan to read at the Austin Writers Roulette in February, which is themed “Cupid’s Naughty Secrets.”

Describing the Essence of Orange

One of the aspects of teaching that keeps me coming back for more is when the students say something so insightful that I ponder the ramifications long after the fact. One such jewel dropped from a student’s mouth when I was circulating around the room, helping my Physics students with their study guide in small groups. Inevitably, there was one group that just wasn’t focusing as well as the others. They had hardly started; so I sat down with them and reviewed the difference between vector quantities and scalar quantities.

Of times, science students get tripped up on vocabulary even if the concept behind the term is easily understandable. So, I repeated the definition of a vector quantity, which has both magnitude and direction. Then the next vocabulary pitfall was “magnitude.” Instead of simply telling them what the word meant, I gave them examples of magnitudes such as their age, shoe size, height, weight. For ten of the longest minutes of my teaching career, I attempted to get one of the four students to say the magic word that was synonymous with “magnitude.” At one point, a student confessed that he felt that I was trying to get them to describe the essence of the color orange. At the time, I thought the comment was so outlandish, I quickly dismissed it. A few minutes later, one brave soul carelessly said, “Numbers?”

I erupted, “Yes, yes, yes! Magnitudes are numbers! So scalar quantities, like your personal statistics, are represented only by a number and vectors such as displacement, acceleration, velocity and force have a number and a direction!”

The classroom was eerily quiet for a few moments, then the students collectively let out a sigh of relief and giggled at my temporary insanity. After class, my student’s magical phrase, “describing the essence of orange,” came back to intrigue me.

I thought I was giving clear, logical hints to lead my students toward the word “number,” but there was no connection to the pattern I wanted them to see. I loved that my student used an analogy about color since how would I describe orange or any other color to someone who had never seen color before?

I could have that person to taste the sweetness of a ripe orange. I could take that person outside during both the sunrise and sunset and let them feel the sun when it was that color, but could I reconcile those three experiences with the ESSENCE of orange? I could take the physics approach and talk about wavelength and how all the other colors are absorbed except the orange wavelength, which reflects into our eyes, making the object appear orange, but is that scientific explanation the essence?

In retrospect, I’m relieved that my job is merely teaching physics.

With Much Gratitude

This was the first time in a couple of years that I wasn’t participating in an annual tango festival over the Thanksgiving holiday. Instead, I celebrated Thanksgiving four times with different groups of people.

The first was a monthly poetry potluck that occurs every third Saturday at a private residence in Dripping Springs. This was only the second time I’d attended and I’d even brought along another poet who had read his powerful piece about a life-altering accident at The Austin Writers Roulette just the previous Sunday. Of course, my favorite part of the evening has consistently been where we all sit around a large round table in the kitchen and enjoy each other’s food and enlightening conversation. What a perfect antidote to all the money-greedy logic that swirls around us on a daily basis.

The second Thanksgiving celebration occured on Monday at the studio where I train capoeira. Instead of having an actual training class, we had a berimbau workshop, where all of us capoeiristas sat in chairs in a circle (roda) and played the different rhythms (tocas) that our teacher led us through. Although I’ve been taking capoeira music classes for nearly a year, I could never distinguish one from the other. Yet, when our teacher wrote out the berimbau tablature on a white board, that made the music more tangible for me. I’m sure my understanding would greatly increase if I actually bought a berimbau and practiced at home. Yet, I don’t need one more instrument to add to my graveyard of untouched musical instruments. I still keep my guitar in its case and my practice drum kit in its box with the promise that “one day” I’ll have time in my busy schedule to take classes again, which will motivate me to start playing again.

After an hour of playing, we capoeiristas slowly drifted away from the berimbau roda and toward the ever-growing food table, especially when our contramestre arrived with all the food he’d ordered, mostly red meats, beans, rice, but there was a curious absence of turkey…not that I am complaining!

Tuesday, my school hosted a pie contest, where the teaching staff and faculty were all invited to bring a sweet or savory pie. Two lucky male teachers were recruited to be the judges, a job both foolishly thought was wonderful in the beginning. Once they got to the tenth pie, they looked ready to vomit. Up until I suggested it, they didn’t even have a bottle of water to help them wash down the samples in between pies. My pie didn’t win, but I enjoyed the brief camaraderie, which was sweet and fleeting like the best-tasting pie on one’s palate.

The fourth and final Thanksgiving occurred on the actual day. A fellow capoeirista who’s mostly been out of the country on a photography assignment breezed back to the States a few months ago and landed at a beautiful house out in “the country.” I’d love to make friends like he has with beautiful homes where I could just crash for a few months at a time while I worked on my art.

At any rate, the dinner guests were mostly capoeirista orphans along with some of the host’s other friends. One humorous trend among our capoeiristas is the fact that so many of them play chess and whenever we get together, an unofficial chess tournament breaks out. They talk far more crap than one normally hears during a capoeira roda! For some reason, I have never remembered to bring my go board, which is a strategically more challenging game than chess, but I think what I like the most about it is that every piece has equal value; it’s the strategy behind the moves that causes one piece to be pivotal to the overall winning of the game or not.

Nonetheless, my mind was focused on bringing wine, a bottle opener, my unique-looking wine glass, homemade cornbread and the corda I’d been working on. The latter was an incomplete project that I’d started during a corda-making workshop three weeks ago. Every capoeirista wears a corda to show their skill level. Although some groups just use a rope, which is dyed as the player advances skill levels, in our group, we braid the cordas. I almost have the skill, but at least I had my own entertainment in the beginning of the evening when the host and contramestre played chess and I had no one else to talk to; so I braided.

I enjoyed the different social groups and mixes of food. It’s wonderful that the focus of Thanksgiving is now celebrated with a coming together of “family” and the food is the star. I’m such a foodie and Thanksgiving is my second favorite holiday, after Halloween, where everyone puts their best dish forward…then feel guilty about how much they’ve eaten afterwards!

I managed to avoid that guilt since I didn’t gain a single pound. I didn’t overeat even though I sampled all the food I cared to eat. I stuck to my bikram yoga routine, which helped process and burn off the food. Plus, I made it to my regular Saturday morning capoeira class during which contramestre nearly trained some of us to the point of vomiting!

In addition to eating and exercising, I avoided the Black Friday shopping frenzy by making my own holiday cards. This is the second time in a row that I’ve done this and I’m so pleased that I’m getting better at my card-making skills. As a matter of fact, I was less motivated to cut up most of the paintings on my walls since I’ve also become a much better painter.

Since I’m still “allergic” to Facebook, this is about the only way that people who I hardly ever communicate with will get any word from me. And boy, what words they are getting from me! I wrote out about half of my greeting cards during a tripy open mic and the rest, I’ll write out on location at a 24-hour internet cafe. When I spoke to my mother this morning about what I intended to do later this afternoon, she confessed, like so many apathetic people who I’ve heard from, that she’s cutting back her Christmas card sending. She’s only going to send to immediate family and those who send her a Christmas card early in the card-sending season.

It’s ironic that she feels this way since she usually attends church. I, on the other hand, hardly ever attend church, but I read the Bible every day and pray every night. I just feel that the only gift I’m going to send some people will be my handmade greeting cards, which is a dying art and also one of many of my creative pursuits. When I reflect on what the purpose of my life is and how I spend my limited days on this planet, I know for sure that I’m not wasting my time using my talents pursuing happiness and sharing my art.

Between Bikram & Malbec

I don’t want to be “that teacher” who complains about the lack of vacation time, but for the fourth year in a row since teaching in Austin, the stretch between Labor Day weekend and Thanksgiving has been the worst time of the year. I’ve never noticed that before. Perhaps teaching outside the States for a collective 11 years, with a combination of American and host country holidays, have helped keep me sane throughout the school year stresses.

Over the past 4 years, I’ve absorbed the local culture and recreated my lifestyle, just like I always do when I move to a new place. Technically, Austin’s not exactly new to me, but every year feels nearly new since I explore another aspect of this wonderful patch of the universe. When I first arrived, I danced salsa at least once a week, trained capoeira 2-3 times a week, wrote every day and drinked a glass of merlot or cabernet with dinner.

Fast forward a few years and now I still train capoeira twice a week, drink malbec with dinner, write every day and I’ve managed to fit three bikram yoga classes into my busy schedule, which includes organizing The Austin Writers Roulette.

Despite my stress-relieving exercise schedule, writing outlet and wine consumption, my subconcious still slips me an occasional reminder that there are unresolved issues I still need to strategize. The most recent reminder came in the form as a familiar dream: I was driving a Landrover through a jungle. The road was bumpy, and adding to the challenge, the thick foliage. Nonetheless, I managed to maneuver well until I came to a sudden clearance, opening into huge, muddy canyon.

Since I was aware that I was dreaming, I allowed the Landrover to leap into the canyon, landing safely along one of the walls and continue rolling down. As exhilarating as the ride was, I woke up and instantly knew the destination: despair.

That word just popped into my mind. All the negotiating through the jungle represented obstacles that I face. The canyon of despair appeared because I felt tired. Not the kind of tired that comes from a few lost nights of sleep in a row, but the accumulative fatigue that sets in over a protracted period of time of working hard and feeling that very little progress is being made.

A bikram yoga class, glass of wine and good night’s sleep later, my new destination was hope. I’ve learned a while back that fatigue dulls my creativity and my best course of action was to rejuvenate myself as quickly as possible. In the middle of the next yoga class, I came up with a brilliant solution for work and a clever idea for the roulette. Two for one!

As this year comes to a close, I’m excited about the upcoming plans I’ve made and the new opportunities as they unfold.