Surrender my One-Woman House

Oak Tree

2010-08-25T21:07:00.003-04:00

My thoughts turn to something I read once, something the Zen Buddhists believe. They say that an oak tree is brought into creation by two forces at the same time. Obviously there is the acorn from which it all begins, the seed which holds all the promise and potential, which grows into the tree. Everybody can see that. But only a few can recognize that there is another force operating here as well--the future tree itself, which wants so badly to exist that it pulls the acorn into being, drawing the seedling forth with longing out of the void, guiding the evolution from nothingness to maturity. In this respect, say the Zens, it is the oak tree that creates the very acorn from which it was born.

I think about the woman I have become lately, about the life that I am now living, and about how much I always wanted to be this person and live this life, liberated from the farce of pretending to be anyone other than myself. I think of everything I endured before getting here and wonder if it was me--I mean, this happy and balanced me, who is now dozing on the deck of this small Indonesian fishing boat--who pulled the other, younger, more confused and more struggling me forward during all those hard years. The younger me was the acorn full of potential, but it was the older me, the already-existent oak, who was saying the whole time: "Yes-grow! Change! Evolve! Come and meet me here, where I already exist in wholeness and maturity! I need you to grow into me!" And maybe it was this present and fully actualized me who was hovering four years ago over that young married sobbing girl on the bathroom floor, and maybe it was this me who whispered lovingly into that desperate girl's ear, "Go back to bed, Liz..." Knowing already that everything would be OK, that everything would eventually bring us together here. Right here, right to this moment. Where I was always waiting in peace and contentment, always waiting for her to arrive and join me.

Eat, Pray, Love
Elizabeth Gilbert

Intensive Intermediate Spanish

2010-08-17T12:25:00.004-04:00

This was an intensive intermediate level Spanish course which packed an entire year of Spanish into 5 weeks. We met Monday-Friday from 9am-12pm. It was difficult but truly I can say I learned a lot. I hope next summer I can spend my May, June, July, and August in a Spanish speaking country. In this way I will be able to practice speaking the language.

Querido México,

2010-08-15T18:28:00.006-04:00

Podrías preparar la comida para consumir.

Podrías preparar la comida para que alguien te ame.

Y tu podrías preparar la comida para los Dioses.

Entonces, la acción será lo mismo. Físicamente.

Pero adentro lo será diferente.

Fatima's Mussels

2010-08-08T18:07:00.010-04:00

I live in Amherst, Massachusetts and sometimes that drives me absolutely insane. It's about 2.5 hours too close to where I grew up, the winters are cold and isolating, and there are too many people living the Trustafarian lifestyle.

With that said, there are equally quite a few things about this town that I like so much. For starters, I love my apartment. It was once an old farmhouse which was later converted into a 3 unit apartment building. My walls and doors and floors are all crooked and the wood is splintered and unfinished but it gives the place character. I have beautiful windows with lots of sunshine and the best little kitchen. I am also allowed to have my little dog here!

I think I could make the best of a summer anywhere and really its not a difficult thing to do here. There are really beautiful rivers and places to hike or ride your bike. Today I went for a long bike ride with my camera to try to shoot what life looks like where I live. I passed some farmland, an ice cream shop, flowers, a river, hills, and an old rusty bridge. I came home and made some mussels using a recipe my friend Fatima taught the last time I visited her, back when she lived in Arizona.

Octopus

2010-07-31T22:54:00.006-04:00

I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.

-Walt Whitman

Artichoke

2010-07-29T21:49:00.000-04:00

Farmers' Market

2010-07-25T16:24:00.004-04:00

Saturday at the Amherst Farmers' Market I bought some sour dough bread, a giant heirloom tomato, some serrano chiles, garlic, zucchini, cheese, olives, and fresh cut flowers. After I rode my bike to the cinema to watch Angelina Jolie kick ass in Salt, checked out the travel books on Brazil at Barnes & Nobel, and then came home to prepare a delicious meal. Good day Saturday.

Flowerhorn

2010-07-18T23:29:00.006-04:00

Red Sox

2010-07-18T22:44:00.006-04:00

My brother, Liz, and James went to see the Boston Red Sox play the Texas Rangers Saturday night. With my brother's military discount we were able to buy $10 tickets on the first base line. I hadn't been to a game since Red Sox played the Yankees in old Yankee Stadium back in 2004 and I was quickly reminded how incredible it feels to see a live sporting event--the over priced food, the red jerseys, Sweet Caroline playing to drunk dudes all riled up on cold beer in the stands.

That's baseball, and it's my game. Y' know, you take your worries to the game, and you leave 'em there. You yell like crazy for your guys. It's good for your lungs, gives you a lift, and nobody calls the cops. Pretty girls, lots of 'em. Humphrey Bogart

Red Sox won with bases-loaded and a sacrificial fly made by Kevin Youkilis in the 11th inning winning 3-2.

Italia 2010

2010-07-05T17:53:00.004-04:00

Toto Che Visse Due Volte

2010-07-05T17:39:00.008-04:00

I ended my days teaching tired and sore footed. On occasion, in the afternoons, I would often wander around central Rome but mostly I came back to my flat, ate some dinner, and de-stress. Teaching 12 and 13 years olds is hard work and anyone who does so has my full respect. You are energy personified.

What brought me to Italy began with me wanting to get some traveling in at the least possible cost to me. I applied for some jobs teaching English overseas. What I looked for mostly were jobs that would pay for my plane ticket as well as room and board. I found a job in China and this one in Italy that met these requisites.

After talking to many people and weighing the prose and cons I decided Italy. I hadn’t been to Europe since New Years 2000 and the idea of facing some personal demons, getting paid to be in another country, and eating Italian food on home soil appealed to me.

So I left June 6th for Nice, France which was the closest location to where my job training would be held in Sanremo, Italy. Took the train in to the beach side hotel I’d be staying at for the week where 180 other English teachers and I learned songs, games, and dances to teach the children at Italian English camp.

To be completely honest, the training was hell. At 31 I was one of the oldest people there and could immediately feel the difference between myself and everyone else. I also had to spend the week living in a room with 3 other girls. They were nice enough but I am at an age and temperament where I need my personal space and downtime and that was hard to find in such conditions.

The camp, Lingue Senza Frontiere, is designed for Italian students in elementary and middle school to learn English in an immersion setting. Performance games and activities are used over chalkboard teaching as a means to encourage students in speaking the language. As a result, at the end of the camp students put on a performance for the public that forces them to utilize spoken English.

At the end of the training in Sanremo we were broken up into small groups of 1 to 7 teachers and assigned to individual camps throughout Italy. Camps were held mainly north of Rome and teachers were hosted in families or flats provided by the school.

I was assigned to work in a suburb of Rome called Pablo Neruda just north of Vatican City along with three other Canadian teachers—Libby, Hazel, and Jason. Libby, Hazel, and I shared a flat together provided by an Italian woman named Emma who was more than generous with taking us out, providing us with mealsand directions, or any other things we might need.

The flat was a gorgeous two bedrooms, 1 bathroom apartment with a living room, kitchen, and enormous balcony that overlooked a busy city street. I would often cook a meal and sit outside to catch the cool night air and listen to World Cup fans cheer on their favorite team.

Luna Rossa

2010-07-05T17:22:00.012-04:00

On my first Friday night in Rome I went out with Hazel and Libby, Jason, and our host families. We walked the historic piazzas of Rome and had some gelato. I had Nutella and dark chocolate. Bellisimo!

Saturday I took some much needed alone time to visit the Vatican and walk around the museum. I saw the Sistine Chapel (which, before this trip, I always thought was called the 16th Chapel). It is enormous. Impressive. I was always under the assumption that it was one little ceiling in a church but the thing consists of rooms and rooms of paintings and mosaics.

In all the Vatican is pretty well kept, clean, luscious green grasses and shrubs, especially in comparison to the rest of Rome.

In the evening Emma took me out with her husband and son for a tour of Rome. We visited the Coliseum, St. Peters Basilica where the pope addresses congregates, and finally ended the night with an incredible seafood dinner. When Italians eat, they go all out. We had about 15 different antipastos, two types of spaghetti, wine, desert and expresso. Incredible.

Sunday I went to see some ancient Roman bath ruins. It was a really interesting sight to see as these structures must have been enormous when they were operational. I’ve spent a lot of time in bathhouses in the Russian neighborhoods in Brooklyn and they would take up the space of one room in these enormous ancient monstrosities.

Cinema Paradiso

2010-07-05T17:07:00.013-04:00

Mornings we would take the train a few stops over to the school we were teaching at and begin our day setting up the craziness that would soon unfurl once the students would arrive.

Most of my two weeks teaching English were spent working on Lo Spettacolo—the final performance intended for parent audience members to see and hear their children speaking English in some type of dance, art, acting hybrid. With an "Around the World" theme, my group and I came up with the concept of space aliens landing on planet Earth after a space ship malfunction. Each of the English classes would take a part of the world and space aliens would visit each site to gain machine parts for their journey home. In the process they would also learn about various cultural aspects of that particular place. Being a former New Yorker, I decided my class of Bgirls and Bboys would represent 5-borough hip-hop culture. Kids performed spoken word poems, graffiti, and break dancing.

It was something we worked very hard on and something I really loved doing. We practiced many hours each day to the point where the kids had their lines and dance moves down. I think with more time it could be a really tight performance.

The best thing about teaching comes in small moments of light that appear as inspiration in a student. One kid named Jacamo, a small nebbish little kid with braces and glasses, was sort of goofy and quiet most days. When asked to learn some break steps however he took hold of the project like a mission and learned some impressive Top Rocking, Freezing, Air Kicks, and Power moves. He seemed to really enjoy learning and participating in NYC Hip-Hop culture and I see a future Bboy in him yet.

La Dulce Vita

2010-07-05T17:01:00.005-04:00

Some of the families of the students at camp prepared a huge meal for Jason, Libby, Hazel, and I on our last night together. The setting couldn’t have been more perfect atop a garden terrace overlooking the Roman skyline.

We arrived to Emma’s home at around 7:00 p.m. Immediately we were served a sparkling chilled white wine along with olives and proscuitto. After some conversation we sat down for what would be one of many courses to follow. We began with grilled bruschetta, followed by a cold tuna pasta salad and then a hot red tomato paccheri pasta. A green riddichio leaf salad was served with small cuts of almond, pear, and Parmesan cheese, topped with a lemon olive oil dressing. The main course consisted of a meat and cheese plate and fresh baked breads. During the course about 3 bottles of red and white wine were served from various parts of Italy including a local Roman wine. Desert began with a chilled lemon sorbetta, followed by homemade tiramisu and a desert wine. After three hours of dining, the meal concluded with expresso and our host families presented us each with gifts. It was the finest meal I’ve yet to experience in my life. Ambiance, food, drink, and company were all perfect. I can only hope my future brings more nights of food like this!

After camp let out I left straight away for Florence, a beautiful Tuscan city about 2 hours north of Rome. It felt great to be traveling on my own again, something I haven’t done in quite some time.

Come te nessuno mai

2010-07-05T16:55:00.007-04:00

Casino Royale (2006) is the 21st film in the British James Bond series, directed by Martin Campbell, staring Daniel Craig as MI6 agent James Bond. The film is set at the beginning of James Bond's career as Agent 007, just as he is earning his license to kill. Bond falls for Vesper Lynd, the federal agent assigned to assist him in foiling a high-stakes poker tournament run by an organized crime syndicate.

I can vividly recall a part of my life when I continuously watched Casino Royal on a regular basis. I think it is probably one of the best Bond films made and this is primarily credited to Craig’s performance. He is flesh and heart in a way other 007 actors have sidestepped for cool mechanical gadgets and cool mechanical acting. We see Craig sweat, feel pain, experience loss from betrayal.

The film has its most heartbreaking moments in Venice, when Bond soon learns that his poker winnings were never deposited into the government’s account. Realizing that the woman he has fallen for has stolen the money, he follows the double agent Vesper into an old dilapidated Venetian building where she meets members of the organization set to retrieve the cash.

Bond shoots the building’s main structure to gain access to the money, but as he does so, the foundation starts to slowly collapse into the Grand Canal. After killing the henchmen, Bond finds Vesper imprisoned in an elevator shaft. Apologizing to him tearfully, she locks herself inside the lift and is pulled under by the rising waters. Bond dives in and pulls Vesper's body onto the roof of the collapsed building but he is too late to resuscitate her.

M tells Bond that Vesper had a French-Algerian boyfriend who was kidnapped and held for ransom by the organization holding the poker tournament. She was to deliver the federal money to the crime organization for her boyfriend’s freedom.

In the final action sequence, Vesper dies and Bond is left heartbroken and betrayed. The film's story arc continues in the 22nd James Bond film, Quantum of Solace, where 007 is no longer the cool confident agent of former films but a sad, cold blooded killer unswayed by love, passion, or empathy.

I’ve been living in my own Quantum of Solace this past year for reasons I will not completely divulge here. Some of it had to do with leaving Mexico, part of it had to do with what I will from now on refer to as The Great Break Up of 2009, other aspects of my retrieval had to do with starting a doctoral program, enduring New England winters, etc. I’ve really had no interest in anything other than work this past year wanting, like Bond, to completely cut myself off from feeling anything emotional or human.

Maybe it’s Italy, maybe it’s adventure, or maybe it’s part nostalgia of an old bohemian lifestyle I once knew, but I’ve been feeling an old passion for travel in Italy I used to know quite well.

Like all great passion endorsing moments, I met a young Italian man. His name is Phillipe and he is sexy in a sort of early 90s long hair, plays guitar in a band but will not sing because he’d rather concentrate on playing the music sort of way. I will leave out the details and just say that while it is nice to be in love, it is sometimes just as nice to feel desired.

Florence feels like a city to be in passion or love or desire in. With that in my soul, I bought an Italian red leather jacket. It makes me feel kick ass and sexy like The Bride in Kill Bill.

Luce Dei Miei Occhi

2010-07-05T16:47:00.007-04:00

I arrived to Venice somewhat heavy hearted after saying goodbye to Phillipe but knew I would regret not seeing more of Italy while I had the chance to if I had just stayed on in Florence.

Venice is a pretty complicated place to navigate. The streets and canals all lock into each other like a giant maze. I spent two hours looking for the street I thought my overpriced hotel was on. I finally found the street to realize my hotel was in a completely different city next to Venice with the same street name. Luckily a nice pizza man drew me a map and pointed me in the way of the bus station, a 30 minute walk away in the hot midday sun.

It is just as beautiful as one would imagine but it is also quite frustrating. The streets are labyrinths of canals and buildings, streets that go nowhere, piazzas where you need to back track to move forward. Heading to San Marco Basilica I had to follow all of these signs through this tangled web of concrete and water and I still got lost (and ask anyone who has traveled with me, I have a gifted sense of direction). I did find they have these cool water taxis that take you through the canals rather than meandering your way through the streets but even with these, all I wanted to do was relax somewhere with my feet up.

Venice is romantic but it is one of those cities designed for tourism so much so that it is almost impossible to separate real life from it. I wish I could have known it minus the hordes of people who come to visit it. Though Rome was a bit gritty, I could appreciate Roman daily life that much more because it seemed more authentic. I rode to work each morning with the city dwellers on the subway, shopped with them at the super market, ate with them at their homes. It felt like I were really living rather than merely passing through.

Così Ridevamo

2010-07-05T16:38:00.008-04:00

The best part of Italy of course was the food (and the hot 24-year-old musician I met in Florence). I tried my best to eat a variety of things but in the end I think pizza won a piece of my heart. Though I did thoroughly enjoy the traditional hot flat bread brick oven pizzas found throughout the country, I really loved pizza Roman style—sold in squares and sliced to size preference, topped with a variety of topping like provolone, zucchini, sun dried tomato, with or without cheese. I also found I have a liking for anchovies. I especially loved one particular dish that uses the orange flower from a squash plant, stuffed with a cheese and anchovy mixture and coated with egg and flour, deep-fried.

I was on the look for a traditional seafood dish and so when in Florence I saw Tripe Florentine on the menu I for some reason jumped to the conclusion this was the Italian word for trout fish. Needless to say it was NOT trout but rather a plate of cow’s stomach lining submerged in a stew of tomatoes and other Italian spices. I could not, under any circumstances, bring myself to eat what many consider a great delicacy in Italy. I had to send it back. The cameriera was generous enough to let me exchange my plate of digestive organ for a much more enjoyable dish of penne pasta and salmon in a tomato cream sauce.

Later in Venice I had a great polenta dish served with butter salted cod, a specialty of the city and quite enjoyable.

Bruschetta is delicious in Italy and pronounced with a hard ske sound like brusketta. I and most people I know have always said brushetta with a shh sound. In imitation I cooked a lot of bruschetta for dinner in the flat each night along with pesto pasta and chocolate cake.

Of course gelato, gratina or Sicilian ice, and other pastries and breads were delicious. My favorite flavored gelato had to be the Nutella, which, after promising myself to try others, always remained a scoop of safety somewhere in my copita. On one particular afternoon in Venice I found myself to the point of dehydration and was introduced to gratina, a sugary lemon ice drink served with spoon and straw, so refreshing I had to have another that night before bed. I also had the great pleasure of sharing half a sweet Sicilian stuffed ricotta cannoli with a cute tall Canadian man beneath a red umbrella in a rainstorm, maybe the best way to enjoy rich bakery food.

Tornando a Casa

2010-07-05T16:30:00.008-04:00

My last day in Italy involved taking various trains from Venice to Nice, France. I started off in Venice, then went on to Milan, followed by the bordertown of Ventimiglia and the famous Monte Carlo casino of Monaco. From here, the transfer point on to Nice got a bit strange.

At the train station I asked an attractive man the directions to get to the Nice train station; without hesitation the guy closened up to me and was oddly friendly from the get go. He told me he is from Tunisia but works construction in France; his family lives all over France, Tunisia and Italy. He sat with me on the trains, wanted to carry my bags, know all about me. At this point I am a little nervous. Though he is attractive, something about him screams hustler and I’ve been warned more times than many to watch my belongings in Nice.

He asked if I wanted to go out that night, for my phone number, to come back to France in the future, all within a train ride of a few hours. We arrived in Nice and he insisted on helping me find a hotel room. I couldn’t seem to shake him and to be honest, there was something charming about him.

He tells me that he will talk to the patron of the hotel in French to get me a good deal on a room; he says that he will pretend that I am his girlfriend and I am leaving town in an emergency. I don’t understand why this bit of information is necessary and so I tell him that I can speak to the proprietor no problem.

The first hotel he that he took me to I talked to the owner and was quoted a ridiculous price. I decided to try another place and let this guy tell his story about me being his out of town girlfriend. Maybe he knows how to negotiate a price better than I do. The next place we go to is absolutely disgusting! Nasty. This guy tells this story about me being his girlfriend and (this was in French but I could understand) "WE" needed the room for "une nuit de passion"!

WHAT? I told him he had to leave and that I wasn’t spending the night with him. He said "ok, lets go out tonight then." Without wanting to argue I said fine. He left me in the urine smelling hotel so that he could go take a shower at his home and said that he would return in a few hours. Once it was clear however I checked out of that nasty place and got as far as I could from this man who I can only presume mistook me for a prostitute.

I went a ways down the street to a much nicer hotel. Though advertised for 300 Euro per night the clerk let me have the room for 70. It was just what you would imagine a hotel in France to look like, something a Victoria Secret model might sleep in. Even at a discounted 70 Euro the place was out of my budget, but it was my last night in Europe and the place that I was left in was a nightmare—the pee stained toilet had no paper; the sink was on a separate floor in a hallway with no electricity; there were bunk beds for 6 people in the room I was assigned to; the hallway smelled like chow mien noodles; there was an Olympic games bed spread from the year 2000 that the clerk grabbed out of his apartment when I arrived.

This was my last night; I am a little sad but I am also happy to return to my normal life. The man who mistook me for a hooker did say something to make me happy. He said that Americans always look happy and smile a lot and in general I believe this is very true. At the end of a long journey, and moments like this, I do appreciate my loud mouth, Wal-Mart shopping, steak eating, big car driving, super sizing, elbows on the dinner table countrymen!

Orange Chip Scones

2010-06-05T21:38:00.005-04:00

I am nervous about my trip to Italy. Excited and nervous. As I was just telling my friend Amy on the telephone, I once had the cojones to travel to places like Dominican Republic, Mexico, Czech Republic without a bit knowledge of the language or culture, without a job, plan, or contact.

Tomorrow I leave for Italy. I will meet up with 4 women in JFK and together we will be flying into Nice, France and then traveling by train to Sanremo, Italy. Here we will endure a week long training course along with 170 other English teachers. There after we will be placed in a language school somewhere north of Rome where we will be teaching children the English language through drama, dance, and music workshops.

Where I once believed the success of travel could be measured by the number of sexy men I'd meet, beaches I'd watch the sun go down, boats I'd travel swamps through, I now conclude that if I do nothing else but eat big plates of pasta and hunks of local cheese I will consider this trip a good one.

I made some scones tonight to divert my nervous anticipation. In the same conversation with Amy we got to talking about the difference between baking and cooking. With cooking one can be more improvisational but with baking certain steps need to be followed for a successful outcome. I think this is why when I am nervous I bake. I get my mind focused. I do not let it wander off to thoughts of if my suitcase is packed, if I should bring a big tube or a little tube of toothpaste, if I have enough money, clothes, time to get from points A to B to C.

I am going to kick back with a warm scone and a glass of iced water and watch some Glee. I have a distance to go tomorrow.

Veronica Mars: It's Amazing how Fleeting Perfection can be

2010-06-05T19:14:00.011-04:00

I've just finished watching Seasons 1, 2, and 3 of Veronica Mars, a television show which, in accord with Salon's I Like to Watch writer Heather Havrilesky, stands to fill the void we avid Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans have felt since the show going off the air back in the early 2000s.

Veronica Mars takes place in Neptune, California, somewhere near San Diego and the Mexico/US boarder, where wealth and power play carelessly with crime, murder, thievery, rape, suicide, kidnapping, and philandering. Veronica, her private investigator dad, her friends Wallace, Mac, Logan, Weevil and others, serve to balance the forces of privilege by solving the clandestine cases that present themselves, each episode or series of episodes, each season.

Great story writing aside, what makes Veronica Mars a fantastic show is Veronica herself. Since Buffy I have yet to get to know a television character with as much charisma, wit, intelligence, beauty, and compassion as Kristen Bell's portrayal of Veronica. She is my hero. I want to run away to Southern California, solve crime, surf, run with the misfits, wise-crack sarcastic retorts and not give a damn. Check these classic Veronica lines:

You are the last good person here at Neptune High. I believe cartoon birds braided your hair this morning.

Wow. A snack and an ego stroke. I wish I was a baller.

98 out of 100 people at that party would walk over my corpse for free gum.

I look like Manilla Whore Barbie.

J. Geils was right. Love stinks. You can dress it up in sequins and shoulder pads, but one way or another, you're just gonna end up alone at the spring dance strapped in uncomfortable underwear.

It's amazing how fleeting perfection can be.

So, my grandma Reynolds was always saying 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.' I wish she was still alive, because I'd really like to ask her what she suggests for when life gives you Chlamydia.

Nobody likes a blonde in a hamster ball.

I guess 'dress to impress' meant to dress like your favorite Pussycat Doll.

If you are like me, you can sit for nights on end with a series pack of TV DVDs and not stop watching until the final episode's end. I've done this with such series as Freaks and Geeks, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the Wonder Years, Glee, Sex and the City, 30 Rock, True Blood, etc, and now Veronica Mars. Because so much time becomes invested in these DVD marathons, I find that by the show's end, I am left with a feeling of longing, a sadness for characters and story lines I once knew.

I want to know what Veronica will make of her summer internship with the FBI, if Wallace will become a mechanical engineer, if Logan will finally get the girl, if Mr. Mars will be appointed sheriff of Neptune, if Weevil will ever be able to get himself away from bigotry's path of destruction.

Unfortunately, the series was canceled some years past and, as it stands now, writer Rob Thomas' hopes of turning Veronica Mars into a film have gone a wash. All I have are the fleeting memories I've made, held in posterity on hulu.com.

Sleeping Puppy and Homemade Chocolate Cake

2010-06-02T22:57:00.001-04:00

The Sixth International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry

2010-05-31T13:33:00.024-04:00

Day 1

Today I set out for The Sixth International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry in Urbana-Champaign, Illinois. My morning began at 6am when my mother drove me to the airport. Traveling from Boston to Chicago, I then had to spend a good 3 plus hours in the bus station waiting for my ride to Champaign. Here I thought I’d grab a deep-dish pie to inaugurate my arrival to Chi-town. Little did I know that what I was downing as a mid afternoon snack, a Pizza Uno single serve deep dish, was once voted the most unhealthiest pizza in the United States.

I felt sluggish and bloated after too much sodium so spent the bus station afternoon tucked away in a corner watching Veronica Mars on my laptop. What did we do before wireless Internet?

My bus took off at around 4 p.m. and all of these memories came pouring in of taking buses in Mexico—choosing my favorite seat to the right of the bus driver so that I could see out the front window; being too cold from the air conditioner; watching various types of scenery pass by and by.

Back in the Midwest, what had felt like hours upon hours of farmland and franchise, I arrived to The University of Illinois.

I checked into my on-campus housing which, disappointingly, had no wireless connection in the room! There went my hopes of watching Glee this week.

The University of Illinois impressed me. It’s a huge college town with tons of stores, shops, but also a lot of interesting culture and a feel of community.

The theme of this years program was entitled Qualitative Inquiry for a Global Community in Crisis where, founder of the event Norman Denzin states, attendees would have the opportunity to share experiences, problems and hopes concerning their conduct of critical qualitative inquiry in this time of global uncertainty. For the next few days I got to hear presenters discuss various methods, projects, and research related to topics of poverty, academic freedom, researcher safety, indigenous human rights, human rights violations, torture, political violence, and justice as healing.

I am excited and hope to get some ideas for my own dissertation which, I am hoping by next year, I will have a clearer idea on what I will focus on.

Day 2

Today’s sessions were dedicated to works exclusively presented in Spanish, Portuguese, and Turkish. I got to hear students, professors, and researchers from countries such as Chile, Argentina, Spain, Mexico, Venezuela, and also Brazil. Themes ranged from qualitative research with diabetes patients, to autoethnographic research of natural disasters in Chile, to participatory action research with indigenous Colombians.

In all it was a very interesting day and I got to practice Spanish with many of the people in attendance. In particular, I enjoyed a Spanish speaking lunch with a Ph.D. student named Laura, and her boyfriend Oscar, from Galecia, Spain. I felt an overwhelming sense of pride when a Colombian man told me that I speak Spanish with a Mexican accent!

Days 3 and 4

These past two days at the conference were so inspiring. Yesterday I attended a workshop with Norman Denzin on Performance Ethnography. We broke up into groups to perform moments of tension where race, class, and gender have intersected in socially situated moments in our lives. We were to particularly concentrate on experience, post 911, in an airport. I worked with a group of women—two from Chile and one from Ecuador. Their experiences involved suspicious interactions between themselves and airport security- questions regarding their traveling, their professions, the validity of their research, and their intentions in the United States. It went so far as the guard having to call the Chilean embassy to see if qualitative research really existed in their country. My own story was much different. I performed a scene that took place in Oaxaca immigration office and how easy it was for me to live and work in Mexico without questions. How this is so contradictory to the immigrant experiences that take place here in the United States.

I was also in the audience of some great panel presentations on such topics as race, fathers, abuse, death, memory, protest, and urbanization.

I had the great opportunity to have some good conversations over beers with my new friends from Spain and my colleagues Hari, Ellen, Tim, and Dawn from UMASS as well.

Day 5

To sum up my time at the congress, I have been moved. I saw some powerful, funny, humbling, serious, intelligent, sweet, inspiring work by professors and students so ethereal they seem like movie stars, yet so human I could share a slice of watermelon at a Midwest style cookout with them.

My favorite moments—

A panel on fathers and sons
Ron Pelias
Meeting Bryant Keith Alexander
Dancing to Zydeco music
Cynthia Dillard
Beers with Laura and Oscar
Writing my FM3 experience in Denzin’s workshop
A panel on writing and relationships
Coffee and banana bread breakfasts at the Union café

I am excited to return to this congress again next year where I will definitely present a paper. I have a full year to work on it so I hope I can come up with something good.

Now I return to Chicago on a three-hour bus and continue on plane back to Boston. Long day awaits. Feeling I know more. Feeling I know nothing. Feeling pretty good about that.

Shape Up

2010-05-18T20:37:00.006-04:00

Today I took my pup to Riverside's exclusive Poodle Palace to get his first haircut. He walked in a shaggy mess and out a type of Boxer, Pug, seal/lion cub hybrid. Here are some photos of Lemon with his esthetician just before and just after the shape up.

The Night before Summer

2010-05-14T23:21:00.006-04:00

I feel that tonight is the last night of finishing out the first year of my doctoral program. I have finished all the papers, projects, and presentations; I went to all the end of the year parties and events for my department; I just logged my final bibliographic annotation to Foucault's The History of Sexuality: An Introduction, my last self-assigned reading for the school year. I am ready for this summer.

Tomorrow I head back to Rhode Island to begin summer vacation. I hope not to jinx myself but I feel this will be a much improved upon summer than last year. To be honest, I spent about 95% of last July and August...and ok September, October, November, and December, hurting over the end of a long relationship.

I'm not all better...but I'm getting there.

I will be heading to Chicago at the end of this month to attend The Sixth International Congress of Qualitative Inquiry at The University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. There are hundreds of intelligent, dynamic, thought-provoking people presenting their work, which I hope will be inspiring for my own studies. I am also partaking in a Performance Ethnography workshop led by Norman Denzin, a man I have only heard and read the best things about.

I will return from the congress and soon after leave for Sanremo, Italy for the entire month of June. I will be teaching English workshops here, as well as living with a host Italian family. My nights and weekends are free to travel. As for right now my only real must see in Italy is Venice, with the possibility of Rome as well. Anything else that comes up, as long as it involves Italian food, espresso, gellato, outdoor cafes and wine, I am good to go.

When I return from Italy I will head back to Amherst to begin what is called an Intensive Intermediate Spanish course offered at my university. Although I did acquire a bit of Spanish living in Mexico, I have never been formally instructed in the language. I think knowing all the formalities of Spanish will be really beneficial for my dissertation.

My brother and his wife will also be visiting in July; riding my bike; my very good friend Fatima will be moving back to NYC; cookouts; I get to meet my friend Kerri's baby boy; watching Veronica Mars and Glee; Amy is getting a new apartment; my puppy is getting his first haircut; the beach; I am looking forward to all of these things as well.

As I said, this night marks a special night of completion for me. When I started this doctoral program I was an absolute wreck. I feel pretty grounded these days and that speaks more than words on a page can say. I am congratulating myself for a school year well done and for making it through a tough one at that.

I am going to end this blog entry by quoting the great musical artist Will Smith, "give me a soft subtle mix and if ain't broke then don't try to fix it and think of the summers of the past adjust the base and let the alpine blast pop in my CD and let me run a rhyme and put your car on cruise and lay back cause this is summertime.

Pasta Experiment 2: Un tazón de tomates y jalapeños

2010-05-14T19:45:00.007-04:00

I am fortunate that although I no longer reside in Mexico, I can still enjoy many of the same dishes there due to the availability of ingredients here in the USA. This is particularly true of chiles. I've found that even in western Massachusetts I can still get dry and fresh chiles de arbol, chipotle, serano y jalapeño.

I am a particular fan of jalapeños and am able to find a reason for eating them at nearly every meal. There are many great towns and villages in Mexico named for this chile, my favorite being Xalapa de Veracruz (pronounced Jalapa as in jalapeño). It is a great university town with cool air, great food, mountains, and Olmec ruins close by.

This dish I prepared tonight in made of pureed tomatoes, sauteed onion and garlic, olive oil, salt, and elbow macaroni. The essential ingredient that makes this bowl of ordinary pasta complete are jalapeños escabeche or pickled jalapeño.

Pasta Experiment 1

2010-05-04T20:02:00.005-04:00

School is unofficially out for the summer and, not used to the freedom, I find myself doing odd things like reading books outdoors for pleasure and dressing my dog up like ALF (see 277). I have also begun a new experimentation phase with cooking.

Today I made an amazing Greek influenced pasta dish. It had a lot of sauteed garlic, shrimp, and artichoke heart, some tomato, a splash of lemon, some oregano, salt, and fresh parsley. Mixed in some angel hair and topped off with crumbled feta cheese.

Really good. Really easy to make.

“Twenty years ago if you were going to be a cook, it was because you didn't make it in the army. It was the last stop before you were on the street.”

Mario Batali

227

2010-05-03T21:26:00.002-04:00

Monday afternoons Lemon and I often reenact old TV shows of the 80s and 90s. Today was 227. He insisted he play Pearl because he likes to keep an eye out on strangers who pass the apartment and, I am finding, he likes to keep well caught up on the Amherst neighborhood gossip. I started out playing Sandra but found the high heel shoes and pitch voice difficult to carry past two episodes. I switched to the Marla Gibbs character Mary Jenkins about halfway through our rehearsal. She was a much more sensible woman.

Here are pictures of Lemon and I acting out the episode when the 227 tenants all go to Atlantic City for a Luther Vandross concert for Pearl's birthday. Instead of a birthday cake I put a little wax candle in a dog biscuit.

Omelette

2010-05-03T20:41:00.005-04:00

Julie Child believed that you don't have to cook fancy or complicated masterpieces - just good food from fresh ingredients. Taking inspiration from these words, tonight I prepared and excellent 3 egg omelette of sauteed onion and garlic, fresh Italian parsley, and a blend of parmigiana and mozzarella cheeses. It was flavorful, simple, and so filling.

Moonlight

2010-04-25T12:35:00.007-04:00

Here is a poem I wrote in the Narragansett language:

ntauhaunanatinnehòmmin sowwaníu wequáshim

yo mesh nowékeshemcuttineapúmmishen

wetapwâuwwas uppansìnea

ewo npepeyup

cowaûtunumun wauontamesumun

aquie mishommoke

i cannot search for moonlight in the southland-

i have gone thus far and it only passes by.

"sit and talk with us,"

i ask the moon.

he is innocent and

i have been here long.

"i want to understand you,"

i tell him.

but he is wise,

and will not name the dead.

Las flores a fin de abril

2010-04-19T18:07:00.006-04:00

Sanremo, Italy

2010-04-18T19:16:00.005-04:00

The trouble with eating Italian food is that five or six days later you're hungry again. George Miller

This summer I am going to spend the month of June in Sanremo, Italy. During the weekdays I will be teaching an English language workshop to Italian students, while hopefully spending the nights and weekends exploring the Meditereanean city. It's a pretty good, short term job that will enable me to do several things that I love to do-travel, eat, work with languages, teach, explore, and cook.

I will be staying in the home of an Italian host family. Here, I hope to learn a few Italian home cooked recipes to bring back to the USA with me (research for my Big Yellow Taxi restaurant menu).

Tonight I made baked stuffed ricotta and parsley manicotti. It was delicious! And since it's also always fun to photograph melted cheese, I thought I'd put up some pictures.

Bad Yearbook Photos

2010-04-18T19:13:00.005-04:00

Notes on True Blood

2010-04-17T18:01:00.008-04:00

I'm really getting into Season 1 of HBO's television drama True Blood. It's a type of hybrid vampire fiction based off the remnants of various vampire legends of popular culture. These vampires are VERY sexual (well, so are the humans) ala Anne Rice; they can not enter homes uninvited, stand the sunlight, silver or stakes through the heart in Buffy the Vampire Slayer fashion. Like the Twilight series, there seems to be a mysterious dog that could potentially be the mortal enemy of vamps (though I am not far enough in the series to make what's what of this emerging story line).

Susan Sontag in Notes on Camp writes, "I am strongly drawn to Camp, and almost as strongly offended by it." I feel the same with True Blood. It's intertextul genius aside, the thing that makes True Blood unique, in my opinion, is its over the top self-conscious and unapologetic smuttiness, which is totally repulsive and yet enticing at the same time.

"Camp is art that proposes itself seriously, but cannot be taken altogether seriously because it is too much," and I am reminded of Jason Stackhouse's pasty white body banging away at the backside of another female conquest. Are we to take every Stackhouse (and if you think that name is camp, what about his sister Sookie!?) scene where he wakes up with another set of bouncing breasts as good ole' boy humor, or is there something serious in HBO's attempts to portray all the humans' dirty little past times? I am inclined to believe the later.

In my heart of hearts I am convinced that True Blood truly believes it is making an important political statement about human rights, race, sexual freedoms. "Camp is the attempt to do something extraordinary."

Sontag writes, "among the great creative sensibilities is Camp: the sensibility of failed seriousness, of the theatricalization of experience. Camp refuses both the harmonies of traditional seriousness, and the risks of fully identifying with extreme states of feeling." From the commitment phobic Southern accents of the young actors, to its hillbilly representations of Louisiana natives, its dappling in voodoo mysticism, to its ludicrous B-movie sex scenes, to the old fashion Dandy-boy character Bill, to it's weird Chris Isaac-sounding music set to a Nine Inch Nail's-like opening credits, everything about this show seriously fails at its attempts at serious vampire drama.

With its dilapidated set designs, gran's pecan pie (or the fact that she's called gran), an overly saturated film grain, HBO's inflated attempts to ride the shirt tails of post-Katrina New Orleans, Stephanie Myer and Harry Potter, and maybe even Sex and the City (only with vampires), is laughable, obvious, and brilliant.

As Sontag concludes, "The ultimate Camp statement: it's good because it's awful . . ." is exactly why I can not drag myself from True Blood this weekend.

Ensopado de Bacalhau

2010-04-14T21:09:00.014-04:00

Bahia's dishes are famous for their rich blend of African flavors: palm oil or dendê, coconut milk, ginger, chiles of various grades of hotness, and other flavors found throughout Brasil.

This dish I prepared tonight was FANTASTIC! It's a cod fish stewed in a tomato, onion, cilantro, lemon, red and green chiles, and coconut milk. Dendê provides a unique taste to this plate but unfortunately it is difficult to find in the United States. Peanut oil can easily be substituted.

Definitely pair this with a cold Latin American beer, a blue sea, and a warm day.

getting out of this bohemia

2010-04-07T22:52:00.005-04:00

          antennas as coat hanger
       as foil ball
         as put your foot on this crate and wait
       wait ‘til the picture stills
    when the mice haven’t done their dishes
          and you’re eating punk rock lasagna
        left over
         bags of wine
      in washed out jelly jars
          and all the art in the icebox has spoiled
                                  you know it’s time leave

борщ чудовий

2010-03-29T19:55:00.004-04:00

Ukrainian Borscht is one of the most complicated soups I have ever made but it always tastes great on a cold rainy day. When I first moved to Amherst I was seeing an acupuncturist who suggested I eat earthy root vegetables to improve my circulation. He also said that this would help me to grow some roots in my new town.

Definitely a cold weather earthy soup, Borscht is made with a beet, cabbage, dill base with a sweet and sour taste made from combining a bit of vinegar with sugar. The best way to eat it is by breaking off a chunk of hard crusted bread, dipping it in some sour creme, and then soaking up the liquid and vegetables until it turns your fingertips bright red with broth.

The first time I had ever eaten Borscht was with my friend Fatima at the Russian bathhouse in Sheepshead Bay where we drank tea with cherries, soaked in the hot saunas all day, and talked about places we'd always wanted to go.

Big Yellow Taxi

2010-03-26T22:19:00.009-04:00

I once had an idea to open a theme restaurant called Big Yellow Taxi. Inspired by the Joni Mitchel song of the same name, the main idea behind BYT was that the menu would only consist of old New York City favorites-hot dogs, bagels, pizza, knishes, habichuelas, etc. This in and of itself may not seem that appetizing, healthy, or nutritious. What was going to be the real kicker, what was going to bring mobs of tourists in through the doors, was the dining experience.

I imagined somehow acquiring about 10-20 old yellow New York City cabs and converting them into dining cars. These would be parked inside the restaurant where visitors would literally open the door to sit down to their table. I imagined each car would have a working radio for selected listening pleasure, food would be ordered through the CB radio rigged to the kitchen, and waitresses could be called to attention by the honk of a horn.

Unfortunately the high cost of such a project, and my 3 years of waitressing experience at Newport Creamery while I was in high school, never got this project off the ground.

I recently made a great cranberry nut bread, and tonight for dinner a homemade pizza with a rosemary crust. I think if I were to open a restaurant today its theme would be something like Food that's pretty good to eat at home but not exciting enough to be served anywhere else.

Dagobah System

2010-03-20T20:47:00.019-04:00

There it is R2. Dagobah...I'm not picking up any cities or technology. Massive life form readings, though. There's something alive down there.

Today I finished spring vacation. I spent the last week relaxing at my parents' house and a few in between hanging out with my friend Amy in Boston. Now I am back in Amherst, getting ready to write some final papers for classes which will most likely consume the days, nights, and weeks ahead. By now I've gotten used to certain times of the semester being a bit more of a headache than others.

You will go to the Dagobah System. There you will learn from Yoda, the Jedi Master who instructed me.

My little puppito does not adjust so well to the changes in schedule. He likes to play. A LOT. If I so much as sneeze he will take this as an invitation to play, and will begin to search the apartment frantically for any light weight projectile object for me to toss around for his amusement.

Dagobah: an outer rim planet in the Dagobah System. A remote world of swamps and forests, it served as refuge for Master Jedi Yoda during his exile, but otherwise has no notable intelligent life form.

I've gotten pretty good at reading a book with one hand while mechanically throwing a chew toy with the other. On days when I am especially agile, I can even drink a cup of hot coffee at the same time.

Mudhole?! Slimy?! My home this is!

Well, back to my pal's mood disorder. Whenever we return to Amherst from a trip to my parents' house, my little Lemon falls into a deep funk. After having spent the week conspiring with my mother's two Japaneses Chins, being fed bits of steak and hamburger from my father's dinner plate, running around a fenced backyard, and hanging out with the local mutts on my block, it's hard for my dog to adjust back to the solitude of grad school life.

Yes, I'm sure it's perfectly safe for droids.

I see him searching around my apartment and backyard for a trail scent of path that will lead him back to his other life. But we are too far from home now.

That's right R2, we're going to the Dagobah System. I have a promise to keep...to an old friend.

Jennifer Lee & Her Boyfriends

2010-03-18T20:40:00.025-04:00

That Funke is some kind of something. Boy, this Funke is all anybody's ever talking about. So sick and tired of hearing about how brilliant that Funke is. Overrated.

This week I spent chilling in Providence and Boston. Had a nice time with my best friend Amy. Walked around in the spring time weather. Enjoyed my first ice coffee of the season. Bought a cute dress, a cross between Breathless and 500 Days of Summer. Watched a lot of green. Ate too much food.

I love Amy because she always introduces me to quirky things happening in the world. Left to my own devices I'd still be rocking rock band t-shirts from 2003 and wondering why people aren't replying to my Myspace postings. She is my connection to what's new and funny in the world. Here's a sampling of her pop cultural generosity this past week-comedian Rajiv Satyal, Lupe Fiasco, the visceral experience of an R. Kelly concert, The Sandman Chronicles, chocolate covered lasagna, Arrested Development, scarves, flats, hats, and vintage clothes stores.

To Conclude,

Nathan from Will & Grace + Seally Booth from Bones + Spike from Buffy + Michael Bluth from Arrested Development = Perfect TV Boyfriend Hybrid

Salsa de Huevo

2010-03-09T21:41:00.002-05:00

This is a great plate I learned to cook in Mexico. Typical of Oaxaca, it's a tomato, onion, garlic, and jalapeno based sauce served over an omelet. Covered in cheese and accompanied with a hunk of bread or some corn tortillas, it's an excellent and easy to prepare traditional Mexican dish.

Apples

2010-03-08T21:03:00.009-05:00

New England is very beautiful in October. When I first moved to Amherst I was just too overwhelmed with life adjustments to really appreciate it. My friend Sam, a PhD student in Microbiology who I met in a dance class at UMASS, took these pictures of us apple picking last fall. Besides jars and jars and jars of apple butter and pans of apple crisp, in looking at them I am reminded of what it was that I couldn't quite see.

Oscars 2010

2010-03-07T19:32:00.005-05:00

I have been looking forward to the Oscars since about January. Usually I try to see as many of the films up for nomination as possible before the event, and for the past few years I have been pretty successful at this. This is mainly due to the excellent import of pirated DVDs that were available to purchase in Mexico. Let me set this scene for you-

If walking down nearly any street in Tuxtepec, Oaxaca one will come across a variety of established and not so established establishments offering new and old pirated films for 20 pesos each (this is roughly the equivalent to $2.00 American). Usually blaring some type of Latin based sound under a tarped wire and mesh booth, equip with TV and DVD player to ensure good quality, men and women would use their best techniques of persuasion to make a sale on anything from Hollywood classics to the latest Tarentino to Xbox games to old Mexican Rancheros.

Every weekend I would make my way to the downtown to buy a stack of pirated DVDs. In Tuxtepec, where my mother tongue was hardly ever spoken, these movies felt like home to me. They reminded me of what was left behind, of where I was headed, of how things were changing.

Last year I caught all of the Oscar nominated films before the ceremonies thanks to the bootleg vendors. I got to see Revolutionary Road, The Wrestler, Milk, The Dark Knight, WALL-E, etc., all while they were still in the cinema.

This year I haven't been so fortunate. Of the films up for awards this year I've seen-Avatar, The Blind Side, Crazy Heart, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The Hurt Locker, Inglorious Basterds, Julie & Julia, A Serious Man, Star Trek, Transformers, and Up.

Of these, I am rooting for Crazy Heart, Fantastic Mr. Fox, and Inglorious Basterds. If it comes down to Avatar or The Hurt Locker for best film of the year I vote The Hurt Locker. I thought Avatar a better film overall but my politics are getting in the way. I would much prefer a female director to win best picture than James Cameron.

It is close to 8:00 now so I am going to turn on my TV to catch some of the Red Carpet interviews preshow.

Sugar Shack

2010-03-06T14:34:00.012-05:00

CAL-C-TOSE

2010-03-05T21:32:00.006-05:00

Today I received a surprise package that contained 4 canisters of Cal-C-Tose, my favorite chocolate milk powdered beverage drink sold exclusively in Mexican grocery stores. My brother managed to find a few cases down in Florida and shipped them up to me here in Amherst, where good chocolate milk is scarce. I think this is part bribe to get me to visit him in Hawaii next Christmas (where he and his wife are moving to in August). Let's just say that with this Cal-C-Tose transaction, he has slipped the ring on my finger and I've accepted. I am going to Hawaii next Christmas.

Faux Phở

2010-03-05T21:22:00.003-05:00

There's not a whole lot of Ox Tail to be found in Western Massachusetts so I had to settle on making a big bowl of Phở-like noodles. Doused in Tuong Ot Toi and it's almost just as good as the real thing. Almost.

"I hid myself in food."

2010-02-27T22:19:00.016-05:00

For the past couple of years I have been cooking. This interest can mainly be credited to Oaxaca. I was introduced to so many new types of food and drink during my time there-nopales, chipotles, poblanos, quesillo, tejate, horchata, jamaica, mole-it was impossible not to experiment with all of the fresh ingredients available for the kitchen.

I owe a bit of gratitude to Gordon Ramsey as well. I developed quite a celebrity crush on him during endless Saturday marathons of Kitchen Nightmares on BBC. Some things I learned from him-fresh and local produce are best, start with dishes that are small and simple, it's ok to cuss, and finally, "wake up, move your ass, or piss off home."

Since moving to Amherst I find cooking one of the few activities I can become so completely immersed in that I do not think about all of the school work that I have to do, or of concerns in my personal life, or if Lemon is peeing on the floor somewhere. When I am in the kitchen I am in complete concentration on whatever it is I am preparing.

I am posting some photos of some foods that I've cooked recently. Chiles rellenos, a stuffed poblano pepper roasted and filled with cheeses; a lemon herb cod fish in a white wine sauce; roasted poblano chiles in a cumin creme base; and a red Thai coconut curry with fried salted tofu.

Woodchuck

2010-02-25T19:29:00.007-05:00

Today in my Contemporary Issues of Native American Indians class I got to listen to poet, writer, illustrator, and storyteller Robert Peters, a Mashpee Wampanoag, read from his children's book Da Goodie Monsta.

During the talk he spoke of how oral tradition and storytelling has been an important component in keeping the history of his people alive. He said that a Wampanoag elder once told him that everything speaks-the rocks, the wind, even "when the fire is burning you can hear voices in the wood."

Peters talked of the spirit world, "that the key is not that you have to believe in spirits, it's to realize when you happen to be in the presence of one." He said that "there are things that happen in your life that you gotta wait a long time to understand why they happened."

He told us that once at a naming ceremony he and his buddy were being given Wampanoag names. His friend got Standing Colt.

"Ahh, I thought. What a cool name."

Once they got to him, his uncle told him, "woodchucks can do a lot of things. You are Woodchuck."

The young Peters was disappointed with his name. He wanted a name like his friend's, Standing Colt. He didn't realize until many years later, how the woodchuck would come to define his life.

He one day came to look up woodchuck in an encyclopedia to find out more about his namesake. He learned that the animal burrows underground and can go into hibernation for months at a time. But that woodchucks are also builders of homes, they are excellent swimmers and climbers, and they can predict the seasons.

For 24 years Peters worked underground for the Boston transit. Working for the transit, he always felt like he had been buried underground, like he had been lost in tunnels hibernating. He said it was then that he knew a change of season in his life was upon him. He needed to retire. He needed to begin building his art career and to use it to fight for the rights of Wampanoag people.

"My uncle knew something back then. It was as if the spirits had spoken to him my name and told him the path my future would take."

Fake Spring

2010-02-22T18:00:00.009-05:00

Sun Dried Tomato and Basil Penne

2010-02-22T17:22:00.007-05:00

Sauce

1 jar of sun dried tomatoes packed in olive oil

A bunch of fresh basil

2-3 cloves of garlic

salt

Mix these ingredients together in a strong blender or vegetable chopper

Penne

Cook Penne pasta in salted, boiled water for 8 minutes. Drain pasta but reserve one cup of the cooking water.

When the pasta is drained, mix in the sun dried tomato mixture. Pour in some of the salt water reserve. Finally, stir in about a cup of freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

Zen and the Art of Dog Manetenance

2010-02-20T19:00:00.012-05:00

As typical for my Saturdays, I had a lot of work to do: 1) work on project proposal, 2) work on autobiographical writing history, 3) read Intro-38, 4) log data, 5) write annotations to bibliographic references, 6) read 123-195, 7) read Preface-26, 8) read 1-44, 9) read 309-312, 10) read 114-160, 11) read articles on Inuit Media, 12) watch Atanarjuat, 13) work on Embodied Literacies idea, 14) email professor.

As much as I had to do, it was too beautiful to get most of this stuff done today. The temperature reached a scorching 42 degrees by the Amherst Coffee time & temperature marquee; it almost felt like Spring.

Me and Lemon went for a long run in the park.

After, covered with thawing snow and mud all along his paws and underbelly, it was necessary for me to give him a bath.

I always thought the responsibilities of owning a dog would be akin to a spiritual practice. Daily walks in the red dawn glow of morning, tossing a ball around the yard while he'd bring it back eager for another go, sauteing chick livers for special treats, snuggles on the couch while watching a DVD on the tele.

These things in and of themselves do involve a sort of monk like patience, but I have yet to feel the revelations of being awoken each morning at 6:00 am for Bud to release his bladder. Tossing the ball around the yard usually turns into a no holds barred tug-o-war. Chicken livers come back out nastier than when they went in. Snuggles on the couch conclude with Dog's adolescent humping.

Giving Lemon a bath is a chore fit for the humbling of Gods. He hates water, unless of course it comes in the form of chewable frozen snow drifts. To wash the mud off of him requires strength, forethought, trickery, and bribery I never imagined needing in the tempering of an 8 pound animal. Like a break from Shaw Shank, he will climb, scratch, attempt jumps of great heights, and literally try to dig himself out through the water drain.

Once finished he will run around the house drying himself on everything and everyone in sight. This includes couches, pillows, pant legs, patches of sunlight shining through the windows, curtains, even old muddy snow boots.

Despite the intricacies involved, when all is said and done, Dog is looking as fresh as a Spring day. I want to share some photos now because it is hard to keep him looking this good for long.

Chinese Red Bean Buns

2010-02-19T18:48:00.006-05:00

Bread:

2 and 1/4 cup of flour
2 tbs of sugar
1/4 tsp of salt
1/2 and 1/4 tsp of yeast
2 tbs of dry milk powder
1/2 of a beaten egg
1/2 cup of water
1 tbs of butter

Mix these ingredients together and let the dough rise for about 2 hours

Red Bean Paste:

1/2 bag of red or black beans
White Sugar
Water

Let the beans soak in hot water for several hours. Cook until soft. Once the beans are soft, drain from the water and mash them together with sugar and a little water until it forms a sweet paste.

Directions:

Once the dough has risen, cut it into 8 equal pieces and round them into flat circles like little pizzas. Fill the center of each with a teaspoon of bean paste and shape these into smooth balls. Let these sit for 15 minutes in order for the dough to continue rising.

Next, flatten each ball and use scissors to cut 4-5 slits along the edges to create a flower petal effect. Let this sit for 10 minutes to continue rising.

While the buns are rising, preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Put buns onto a buttered baking sheet. Brush the tops of each one with a bit of beaten egg and sprinkle with sesame seeds.

Bake for 15 minutes

Surrender my One-Woman House

2010-02-19T10:13:00.008-05:00

I was living in Oaxaca, Mexico for three years prior to being in a doctoral program in Amherst, Massachusetts. In these cold months, when the white snow and gray sky do not have a vibrant color in them, I must remind myself of the warm southern sun, spicy foods, deep blue sea, and animal life that would go to pass a day with me in my former country.

I get lost in the nostalgia of details.

I decided to keep this blog as a way of remembering, years from now, what this transition from Mexico to the United States was like for me. Some days this space may be posts of recipes and some photos of foods I like, learned or are learning to cook. Other times it may be a rant about how frustratingly time consuming it is to try to earn a doctorate. Other writings may be my thoughts of places I travel, people I know, things I love or find confusion in.

I hope that when I have earned my doctorate, I can look back at this blog and remember the moments and feelings I had endured during my time here.

The title for this blog, Surrender my One-Woman House, comes from a line in a Sandra Cisneros poem. I decided to use this title as an invitation to friends and readers to become part of my own personal space of thoughts and feelings and to hopefully start a dialogue between where I am and where ever many others are.

Thanks for reading.