Monthly Archives: October 2005

Fancy blue

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One of things I miss most about the old blog is the option I had at the end of each entry to write what I was listening to at the time. At first I didn’t really mind no longer having that option because I was moving on and Oso would bug me about having really “white” music taste. I’ve begun to miss it and I’m thinking of adding what I’ve been listening to lately, even if Oso teases me.

So, what have I been listening to lately? Tonight, thanks to Gustavo, I’ve got some new Juan Gabriel MP3′s. Music has always been a big part of my life. Growing up, my sister and I would sing aloud to el Noa Noa and lots of other JuanGa hits at family parties.

In the car, I’ve been listening almost non-stop to Liquits’ 2004-released album, Jardín. A friend sent me the album a few weeks ago and I instantly loved them. They opened up at a Café Tacuba and Maldita Vecindad concert in July 2004. I remember liking them, but also thinking that they were a little weird in their gray jumpsuits. Also, I was only half paying attention in anticipation. Still, they left an impression that was much better than “ow, my hears hurt” and more along the line of “I’ll check ‘em out.”

Jardín was produced by Emmanuel del Real (aka Meme) from Café Tacuba. You can hear the CT influence, but Liquits’ almost non-sensical and fun lyrics come through clear. The songs are fast-paced and fun, heavy on the guitar and the weirdness. They sing a few songs in English and do a lot of “papaparara” type things in between actual words. I’m the kind of person who is more attracted, at least at first, to the actual music rather than the lyrics. That’s probably why it didn’t matter to me that I couldn’t understand most of the lyrics to Fancy Blue (mp3, sung in English) until I checked the liner notes. It just made me happy, and that was something that I welcomed especially as I was feeling the end-of-summer blues and dealing with some personal issues. I couldn’t pick just one track, so you’ll also get the title track, Jardín .

My summer was quite musical, but I didn’t really write about it for some strange reason. I attended a bunch of concerts, all of which I enjoyed. There was music I wasn’t too familiar with (e.g. Hawaiian night at the Hollywood Bowl), but still was glad to listen to. I also got my Café Tacuba fix in early July. One of the things that keeps from getting even more canas is the fact that I see CT a couple times a year. They never get old and always have me happy. I didn’t get any pictures there (damn, HOB no-camera policy), but did get some at the outdoor shows (see flickr).

The Arcade Fire at the Hollywood Bowl June 26 // Hollywood Bowl, with Ralph
David Byrne, featuring the Tosca Strings
The Arcade Fire
Si*Sé
Extra Action Marching Band

July 1 // California Plaza, Downtown LA, with Ralph and Alfred
Ozomatli

July 2 // Anaheim House of Blues, with Hector (my “supplier” when it comes to new rock en español)
Café Tacuba
Kinky
Ely Guerra

July 22 // OC Fairgrounds, with Ralph
Maldita Vecindad
Aterciopelados
Inspector

July 24 // Hollywood Bowl, with Isa
Femi Kuti
Mos Def
Daara J

August 1 // Westside Jewish Community Center, with Ralph
Harry and the Potters (thanks to Pocho Abogado for the heads up about this duo)

August 19 // Greek Theater, with Alfonso
Al Green
The Four Tops
Brenton Wood* (missed because we were late)

September 11 // Hollywood Bowl, with Isa
Keali’i Reichel
Na Leo
Halau Keali’i O Nalani Hula Dancers
Hula Halau O Kamuela ‘Elua

What’s up for the next few months? Well the always lovely Julieta Venegas will have a show in LA on the 25th and Fantasma (introduced to me by César) will be in LA on the 22nd. Let’s see if I can tear myself away from my studies and other not-so-fun stuff for some more great live music.

Abeja y girasol

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pollination is sexy I’ve decided I’m dressing up as a sunflower (or sunflower princess?) for Halloween. I love Halloween and usually dress up. Last year I was Little Red Riding Hood. My mom helped me with my costume and she’ll gladly help again this year.

When I told her about my sunflower idea, I got an interesting reaction. I explained to her that el Venado is going as a “Killa Bee” (with a Wu Tang emblem…), so I thought I’d be the sunflower. After getting over the inital surprise about me dating someone, she said “no más que no te pique.”

On Sunday when I went home we talked about the costume. She bought some fake sunflowers that we’ll use for a crown. We picked up some plain green fabric and some shimmery fabric to make leggings, a shirt, and a skirt made of leaves. She also picked up some cool spiderweb patterned fabric to decorate the bathroom and something for her own costume.

I’m excited about Halloween which is quite normal. Since my mom is very creative and good with the sewing machine, my siblings and I always had great costumes to wear every October 31st. In a couple of weeks, I’ll show off some of the costumes in the past.

For now, you can enjoy my roommate Isa’s photo.

Indigenous People’s Day

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Margarita y the copal Elenamary has a great post on Indigenous People’s Day or Día de la Raza — as many people who resist the colonization of the America’s know “Columbus Day.” She has some links on the day, so I won’t write much except that it was nice to see a tradition continued.

Every year, MEChA, the American Indian Students Association (AISA), and the Pacific Islander Students Association (PISA) get together to celebrate the 513 years of resistance of native peoples across the globe. They get together in Bruin Plaza right by the student union of UCLA. Students walking around on their lunch break, or to and from class stop to check out the speakers, drumming by native drum circle, and danza Azteca.

Danza always attracts the most people primarily because of the trajes and copillis full of pheasant feathers (regalia and headresses). I usually have some frybread while watching the danzantes, but this year I took a lot of pictures and felt pretty bad that now that I have Thursday evening class, I can’t make it to ensayo (practice).

Bruin band geek

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Solid Gold SoundOn Thursday evenings while I try to pay attention to my qualitative methods class, I get a bit nostalgic as I listen to the UCLA marching band practice the upcoming field show, pre-game show, fight songs and pop tunes. Instead of being in class discussing ethnographies and researchers’ subjectivity, I’d much rather be on the IM field playing my trombone with all the other band geeks.

It’s been years since I’ve played my trombone and even longer since I’ve been to a UCLA football game. I quit the band mainly because I no longer had the time and because the football games (which take the most time) were no longer fun because the team was losing and embroiled in the infamous disabled placard scandal of 1999.

See, my first year in the band 1998 UCLA football was ranked number 1 in the nation and undefeated until the very end of the season. The quarterback, Cade McNown, was a prime contender for the the Heisman Trophy and UCLA was enjoying an 8 game win streak over our rivals, USC. It was a great time to be in the band, until the end.

Sunday, December 6, 1998

The reason I feel so utterly depressed is because yesterday the UCLA football team lost to Miami. We were previously unbeaten in 20 straight games and were basically 60 minutes away from a trip to Tempe, Arizona for the Fiesta Bowl [for the national championship game]. But the dream season ended in a nightmare as the Bruin defense fell a part in the 4th quarter giving up a lead of 17 points (I think). There were some questionable (or controversial) calls that I think caused us to lose heart and subsequently lose the game. I know that college football isn’t everything in the world, but it feels like it right now.

I was really upset after that game. Our “consolation prize” — normally a great bowl game — was the Rose Bowl. That game sucked too and it was personally tragic. The next season wasn’t much better and the ones after were all quite mediocre. I lost interest and just prayed that basketball season would be better.

Today, I listened on the radio to the last quarter of the UCLA (20) vs. UC Berkeley (10) game. I don’t have a TV right now and the game was only on cable so I was checking online for scores until I found the game on the radio. The Bruins were down 40-35 with only a few minutes to play in the 4th quarter. But then they scored, and when Cal got the ball again they turned it over when the quarterback, Joe Ayoob, threw an interception with 1:19 to play. The Bruins scored another 2-yard touchdown and sealed the upset 47-41.

It’s been 6 years since I’ve been to the Rose Bowl and seriously excited about UCLA football. Hopefully I can take some time out of my busy schedule and head back to the Rose Bowl to relive old times and sing “Rover” (a song we play after every victory) with the band after another exciting win.

Mrs. Stringfield

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Everything I need to know I learned in kindergarten I found out late last night that my fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Stringfield had passed away over a month ago and no one told me.

I called home today in the middle of the day. My sister, Lori, answered the phone. I asked her if she knew about Mrs. Stringfield, also one of her former teachers, and she admitted that she did.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I asked annoyed as always that my family doesn’t tell me things I would like to know (yet tells me other things I really don’t need to worry about).

“Well, because you’re over there,” she replied listlessly.

I didn’t tell her that I felt rather sad when I got the Google update featuring something about my hometown of Hacienda Heights. I don’t live too far from HH now, but for some reason news about former teachers and other people I grew up with just doesn’t get to me. I guess it slips my mom’s mind or they don’t want to worry me. Still, I think they would have told me about Mrs. Stringfield. They told me when she fell and broke her hip, but that was probably because my mom still worked at the school.

I did very well at Glenelder Elementary School. I never intended to be the teacher’s pet, but somehow I frequently wound up being a favorite. I had all woman teachers and Mrs. Stringfield sticks out because she was not nearly as mean or scary as Ms. Butcher (eek, even her name scared me) nor as austere as Mrs. Miller. She really was a kind woman, but she sticks out more for her longevity. She was the oldest white woman I had ever met at 10 years old. The paper says she passed away at 75 years old which means that she was only about 60 when she was teaching me and my brother. Even then she seemed ancient.

I don’t know if it was Mrs. Stringfield or Mrs. Miller that recommended I be tested for the Gifted and Talented Education (GATE) program. Either way, I know that I would not have been in GATE without Mrs. Stringfield. She was a good teacher and all I gained in that class manifested itself in some way through random bubbles on a Scantron. I scored high on the state assessment tests. In hindsight, I know that the test scores and good grades helped Mrs. Stringfield (or Mrs. Miller?) decide that I was a child whose talents should be nurtured.

I was admitted to GATE. Each Friday morning I would leave my school on a bus with a handful of other kids to go to Dibble School where other students around the Hacienda La Puente Unified School District would gather for enriched courses in things like Shakespeare, art, and investing in stocks. Once I graduated from Glenelder and went on to middle school and high school, GATE students were tracked into honors and advanced placement (AP) courses. These courses prepared me very well to be ready for postsecondary education.

Mrs. Stringfield was instrumental in tracking me and recognizing potential. There were definitely other teachers along the way and even before, but I didn’t even know I was gifted or talented until 4th grade. Although tracking can be very problematic, it essentially worked very well for me.

Thanks, Mrs. Stringfield. May you rest in peace.

Mil palabras: eloteros

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My cousin Rene now has a blog and is uploading pictures to Flickr. I love looking through his photostream and it reminds me that I really need to go see his mom so that she can re-dye my hair (the roots are showing).

Rene is a pretty talented artist, but don’t ask him to explain the meaning behind any of his paintings because he’ll act as if the paintbrushes just moved themselves.

Downsizing

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View of the bedroom I’ve moved out of my room, the same one I’ve been living in since September 2000. Five whole years in the same place means I’ve accumulated a lot of stuff junk. Isa and her friend, Martha, helped me move the desk, dresser and bookshelf. Today, el Venado (pseudonym for the guy) came over after work to help me move my bed. He started telling me how to arrange my room to maximize the little space I have. Being the chillona that I am, I kind of wanted to just cry and complain about the size of this room. I get antsy in small spaces, and this square-shaped room feels so weird and small.

When we (me, Pato, Ome and Vane) first moved into apartment 3, I shared a room with Pato. The master bedroom was huge, slightly smaller than the living room. I never felt cramped sharing a room with Pato. I suppose this was because the room was still the largest I had ever lived in and since I was a kid I had always shared a room.

At home, I shared a room and then a full-sized bed with my younger sister, Lori. When I started the freshman summer program at UCLA six weeks before the actual start of the school year, I lived in a rectangular room with high ceilings and two beds. The same sized room in a “high rise” residence hall would later house three young women. Now, that was small.

My sophomore year, I lived with Ome in a high rise residence hall. The room never felt cramped, but that was probably because we got along really well and Ome kept her mess from overflowing to my side of the room, as did I.

After the move The four-person and three bedroom set up worked for apartment 3 until Vane and I graduated. Vane moved to begin her teacher education program at UC Berkeley and Ome and Pato agreed that we wouldn’t look for another roommate. Instead, I’d stay in the big room and pay about $80 more in rent for the larger room and a parking spot I didn’t have to share. Ome and Pato would switch off every other week with the parking. I thought I might have been paying a little too much more but didn’t really argue because Ome and Pato were still students and I had a full time job. Still, I liked my huge room. I got very used to the space.

Last August, Ome moved out and Isa moved in. Nothing really changed except the apartment atmosphere. That’s a whole other post. The point is that now Pato is gone for good. I’m in her former room (and Vane’s former room) and so far I hate it.

I wasn’t a neat freak. My dresser, desks and bookshelfs were constantly overflowing with whatever crap I took out of my pockets or purse. Still, I kept the walls and hardwood floors in my room pretty nice. If I had the time, I’d have wanted to paint my new room and do more than just mop the floor to make it look as shiny as the one in my room. Then there’s the broken door that has been broken for probably 3 years. It’s off the hinges and incredibly annoying. I wonder why Pato never bugged the apartment manager to fix it. The shutters are closed, but sitting by the window is still too cold for me because cold air still filters in. Finally, I hate where the sockets are placed and there is not enough room to store all my crap.

Eh, but I’m saving $80 a month and I could really use that thanks to my status as a poor grad student. I guess it’s better than sharing a room with two strangers.

Fue sin querer queriendo

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It happened without wanting it to happen. That’s the way it happened. What is it? Everything.

All the drama of the last few months just happened without me even plotting or planning it. I don’t think anyone did.

Fue sin querer queriendo, that when Isa told me Ome, the ex-roomie, was coming to the apartment in a few minutes, I wanted to leave. Isa wouldn’t let me. She said if I was uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have to leave my own apartment. I stayed in my dim room with the blinds drawn ignoring a lovely autumn day while I watched Gilmore Girls season four on DVD. Isa and her boyfriend cleared off the entertainment center to prepare it for Ome to pick up. They didn’t have to remove the television because the most recent ex-roomie, Pato, took it with her (along with the honey) a few days when she moved her things out.

Apartment 3 original inhabitants Isa and her boyfriend removed figurines of Jackie Robinson, Don Quixote y Sancho Panza, and a tall, slender indigenous woman dressed in a pink dress. A frame holding a picture of the original four roomies was tossed aside. In it, Pato, me, Ome and Vane face the camera with varying degrees of cheesy smiles. We’re close, our arms are linked around each other. I remember taking that picture after a my birthday dinner at the Olive Garden in Westwood. A few days later, we all started moving our things into apartment 3. We stayed like that for two years, and then the moves started. First, Vane who left for school in Berkeley and then Ome who returned to live at her parent’s home. Now, the four women in the picture are hardly ever together, and probably won’t be for a long time. The photo and frame was ignored, just as we all push to the back of our minds that the once strong relationships between those four Chicanas has now unraveled and broken through our own action/inaction and lack of communication.

Ome came with her new roommate to pick up the entertainment center she left last year when she moved out. They loaded it into the truck and made small talk with Isa and her boyfriend. I stayed in my room too embarassed, resentful and hurt to leave.

When I walked out into the living room, I found a strange and empty space. The prints of famous paintings and other decorations are gone. There’s a big empty space where Ome’s entertainment center was before. It can be symbolic. Or not.