Mil palabras: Bruins everywhere

Posted on November 30, 2005 by cindylu

Powell (College) Libary, UCLA

No matter the outcome of Saturday’s big game between UCLA (9-1) and USC (11-0), I’ll be satistifed.

There will be no kicking and screaming or a desire to inflict pain on anyone who wears the colors red and gold. I may still cringe everytime I hear that poor excuse for a fight song and hiss at the mere mention of the letters U and S and C in succession.

I also might randomly break into the Eight Clap or songs like “We are the Mighty Bruins,” “Hail to the Hills of Westwood” or “Rover.”

Even though I’m hoping la Tía Macaria will make her ánimas work in favor of a UCLA’s first victory since 1999 (she never heeded any of my requests for miraculous wins in baseball, I don’t think she was a fan), I’m also undeniably realistic and a bit of a pessimist. ‘SC has a 33-game win streak and is ranked 1 in the nation. We’re ranked 12. Still good, but the odds are against us.

Still, at the end of this season I may not have bragging rights for best football team in LA, but I sure will have memories of some exciting fourth quarters.

Go Bruins!

Fertile cousins and jealousy

Posted on November 28, 2005 by cindylu

I call their generation, los bisnietos. By now my cousins on both my maternal and paternal sides have their own families. The first, Marieica, was born when I was about 5 years old. The youngest, Andrea and Jocelyn, are 4 and 2 months old. From my count — which is probably off by one — I have 27 nieces and nephews, and surely there are more on the way. I have about three dozen cousins who are old enough to have kids (or already have a few). I’m one of those, but I feel like I’ve fallen behind.

I love playing with those kids, my nieces and nephews. I get them at the good times. They’re happy, not too whiny, they don’t poop and spit up on me. It’s good. But then my cousins — their mom and dad — take them away to their homes in some far off corner of Southern California. I begin to miss the bebes and know that I won’t see the child until he’s gone up another size to 18 months or the next mandatory family event comes up, whichever comes first.

I return to my empty, messy apartment and find my books, laptop and stuffed monkey. I ignore the discomfort of pregnancy and sleep deprivation of early motherhood and keep wishing for my very own itty bitty baby.

I suppose this is all selfish. It’s like when my cousins had the newest video game console or a 10-speed bike, except now I don’t want their flashy toys. I want to have the same living, breathing, shitting brown babies they have. I want older aunts and uncles to coo over my little one and try to figure out if she looks more like me or her daddy.

“N’ombre, she’s got Cindy’s big lips,” says my tía Martha.

My madrina Chilo shakes her head, “sí, pero, mira, que prieta está la niña. Tiene el color de su papá, no está tan blanca como Cindy.”

Possibly the best part would just be the way babies attack your senses. I love their smell (well, when it doesn’t involve shit), soft sighs as they sleep and the way they wrap all five of their chubby fingers around my right index finger. I can even handle all the noise they make.

Damn fertile cousins and their super-cute offspring.

Reunion on CP time

Posted on November 27, 2005 by cindylu

I walked into Bilal’s restaurant ten minutes after six expecting to find a dozen old friends reunited for dinner. Instead, I found only Rose and Arshad, the usual people I meet for dinner and none of the others who had responded to the e-vite. I should have known everyone would be late since we were notorious for running on CP (colored peoples’) time.

Rose and Ghaith, now a law student at NYU, organized the dinner to reunite former “mother org” and CPO student leaders. We all attended UCLA around the same time and were involved in various student groups. Despite coming from different ethnic and religious backgrounds, we still worked together on various campaigns. The height of our coalition work came during my third year, 2000-2001, when we organized to repeal SP-1 and SP-2, two policies that eliminated affirmative action at University of California campuses. After countless meetings, a few protests and even a turnaround road trip to San Francisco, we got to know each other pretty well.

Kei was the fourth one to arrive. Her normally neat black hair looked messy due to the high winds. She apologized for being late, but she was still “early” when it came to CP time. Yousef and his younger brother, Muhammad, walked in a few minutes later. I hadn’t seen Yousef since he left to Iraq in July. Afterwards, Ghaith and Mahmood came in. I used to work with Ghaith in the Community Programs Office. Rose mentioned something about needing a tan, but how is he supposed to get one in late autumn NYC? The two Iraqis (Ghaith and Yousef) and Mahmood immediately began discussing Iraq and Yousef’s experience working in the prime minister’s office. Nahui joined us next and agreed with Ghaith that even though the weather in LA was a bit cooler and a whole lot windier than usual, it was better than the weather in Michigan or New York. Bernice, a current UCLA student who had just returned from studying abroad in South Africa, was the last to arrive before we started having dinner. As we ate, Elisa arrived in time to still enjoy some good Pakistani food. Chris, Bryant and Tad were too late.

There were a lot of questions, like “what’s new?” and “how’s school/work?” The evening was good, except for when Kei asked me if I had spoken to Ome lately. Something inside me flip flopped. It was the first time someone with no idea about the situation brought up her name. I think Kei got the sense that she shouldn’t ask any other questions. “But weren’t you two roommates?” She let it drop after I shook my head and simply said no. I looked away quickly to Arshad so that Kei would not notice me blinking back tears. Arshad and Rose are the only ones who know why such a question would affect me like that.

It was a good reunion, but there were way too many people missing. Ome was one of them.

Mil palabras: Que laureles tan verdes

Posted on November 23, 2005 by cindylu

Rosaysela en el sorgo (Rancho los Laureles, Guanajuato)

I bought my ticket to go to Zacatecas and Guanajuato in December. This time, I won’t be going alone. I’m flying out of Tijuana with Papá Chepe and Mamá Toni and going with them to their house in Jeréz, Zacatecas. My parents, and tía Martha’s family will drive in right before Christmas. My parents and I will split our time between Salamanca and Jeréz where we’ll party it up for Christmas, New Years, a wedding and a couple of quinceañeras.

I can’t wait to be back at el Rancho los Laureles where a half-dozen of my uncles and their families live in a huge house with an equal number of add-ons. Rosaysela is one of a four kids I had a great time playing games with. I hope she remembers me.

Way too much California

Posted on November 22, 2005 by cindylu

I made two trips to Berkeley in the last week. Early Thursday morning, around 12:30 am, I left on a bus to Berkeley headed for the UC Regents meeting. My position as EVP of the GSA requires being pretty involved in university affairs and policy changes that affect students. The position is actually great for me considering I’m interested in this stuff academically.

I was the only graduate student on the bus, but that was okay. I like the undergrads, they’re all full of energy and remind me a lot of myself. They can make 24-hour turnaround trips to Berkeley and back to LA without blinking an eye. I’ve made a handful of trips like that myself, but that was when I was young (heh).

The organization I work with as the EVP, the UC Student Association, has been organizing for quite sometime regarding the issue of fee increases for all students at the UC as well as trying to get increased financial aid. The UC Regents — most appointed by the Governor, and a few ex-officio who serve by virtue of an elected position — are generally targeted for students for doing things like passing Standing Policy (SP) 1 & 2 in 1995 which eliminated the use of race, ethnicity and gender in admissions, contracting and hiring. Lately, though, all students are pretty fed up with the last 5 years of fee hikes. The last three years, which coincide with a budget crisis in California, have been the worst. Higher education is getting increasingly expensive in California (as it is elsewhere in the nation, as well). Tuition has increased 72% for undergraduates, 84% for graduate students, and 69%-131% for professional students, the lowest for nursing and highest for law and business schools.

At the same time the fees are skyrocketing, financial aid has been cut and there are other cuts to federal financial aid.

Anyway, the rally and march to Clark Kerr Campus (part of UC Berkeley where the Regents were meeting), went well but it was a day late. The Regents, had already voted to increase fees (bad) and financial aid (good) on Wednesday. That wasn’t necessarily the result of bad planning on our part, since the Regents traditionally vote on the budget on the second day of their meeting. Oh well.

I went home Thursday afternoon still a little confused about what happened at the Regents meeting and what the next steps would be from there, but that was cleared up on Saturday and Sunday at the UCSA board meeting. I flew up Friday evening… all that travelling takes it’s toll.

Over the weekend I spent 13 hours in a meeting split over two days, hoped that the Fresno State Bulldogs would actually beat SUC (not a typo), went out to a fun bar in Oakland with Vane and two other friends from LA, drove our PT Cruiser rental car with the top down, shopped at Rasputin’s, ate some of a nutella and strawberry crepe from Crepes A-Go-Go, got two know my staff better (Linh and Monte), took a morning walk by the Berkeley Marina, and had my second Thanksgiving dinner with my friend Victor and his friends.

I wouldn’t mind trips to Berkeley if the trip wasn’t so long. There’s just way too much California between LA and the Bay.

Why two guys who grew up in the suburbs shouldn’t live in East LA

Posted on November 18, 2005 by cindylu

A few nights ago, el Venado IM’ed me frantically claiming he had heard a loud pop downstairs in his apartment. It wasn’t just a pop, but something that sounded like a gunshot, and it was nearby. I first I dismissed it. After all, el Venado and his roommates live in East LA and gunshots are regularly heard there. However, then things got more serious and I kept getting worried since el Venado would only give me updates in intervals of several minutes. I didn’t know if he was alive or had been shot by some cholos trying to break in and steal his PlayStation. En serio. But then, things turned from scary and intense to downright silly.

El Venado’s roomate, el Pocho (pictured to the left), has recounted the story below. He sent it out to a group of mutual friends. I can imagine the literal “LOL’s” as they read this in their offices at work. I have the IM conversation saved too. It’s quite hilarious as well. I wrote a short piece at blogging.la, but it it’s not nearly as entertaining as el Pocho or la Guera’s (the third roommate) account.

The Naco Who Cried Wolf (based on a true story)
by el Pocho

It was late last night [Tuesday evening], or early this morning (12:30am) and I was deep asleep, when my slumber was suddenly interrupted by a loud knocking on my bedroom door. The voice behind the door was muffled, and after a few attempts I understood what was being communicated to me. It was el Venado, and he whispered nervously “Pocho, you have to get up!!!! Someone is breaking into our apartment!!!!” There is no better way of getting my ass out of bed from a deep sleep than the threat of being shot at or stabbed, so I quickly ran to the door and opened it, where I found el Venado standing.

El Venado was visibly scared, so I asked him what he heard. He told me that he heard something that sounded like someone broke the sliding door downstairs. After a few minutes, I reluctantly went downstairs with el Venado to check out the situation (honestly, I would rather close my eyes and pray the Ave Maria ten times and make it go away). We were going downstairs to get a knife from the kitchen, when from our living room we heard a loud popping sound that seemed to come from our back patio. We did the only thing we could do in this situation… we ran as fast as we could upstairs, turned off the lights, and locked our doors. El Venado implored, “Call the police. My cell phone is downstairs.” Being the paranoid fuck that I am, that is exactly what I did.

Since I told the police that I thought I heard gunshots downstairs (well, that is what el Venado supposedly heard), they were in front of our apartment in less than 5 minutes!!! We barely had time to wake la Guera up and let her know what was happening. I received the phone call that the police were downstairs and to meet them down there. I opened the door and ran as fast as I could to the pigs for help (and I hate to admit this). There were like 10 of them with their guns drawn with that little red light that shows where they are aiming. They went to our back patio and the hills in the back to check out the situation, and in the process waking up all our neighbors and causing a scene. After scoping the place, they left when they did not find a single threat, with our neighbors puzzled at the ruckus that woke them up.

El Venado and I came back to the apartment, feeling somewhat relieved. Then, when we were about to go back to sleep and turn off the lights, we heard a loud popping sound again. With a sense of confidence, el Venado surveyed the back patio from behind the shutters. After not finding anything, he decided to get a drink from the fridge. And what does he happen to find inside the fridge?

The frozen 2 liter bottle of Diet Rite that he put in the refrigerator before he went to sleep, shattered, having exploded into different pieces. It was like a bomb went off in our fridge. El Venado started cracking up knowing that he had found the culprit and he turn to me and said “Case Closed!!!!” I felt like kicking his ass for having woken me up and scaring the shit out of me, as well as waking up la Guera and half our block, having guns drawn practically on us, etc…

I have never felt like such a stoner (from the paranoia that I suffered as a result of a Diet Rite) despite being sober.

What a Naco!!!!

Lesson to be learned? Soda is bad for you.

Mil palabras: otoño

Posted on November 16, 2005 by cindylu

Proof that there are seasons in Southern California

October 23, 2004, at my favorite spot on campus (the secluded bridge between the Fowler Museum and Anderson Business School).

My friend from Chicago, Will, hates it when I complain about the cold in my apartment. Of course, to him my definition of cold is laughable because I live in LA, the land with two seasons. According to Will, LA only has “summer and summer lite.” When the high in mid-November is 78 degrees, I’d agree with him. However, I have to say we do see changes from season to season.

Is the long weekend over already?

Posted on November 14, 2005 by cindylu

Long weekends are nice, they make me really look forward to the holidays and Christmas break. I spent a lot of time with el Venado, which was nice because during the school/work week we barely get to see each other despite the fact that he works on campus. Plus, the next couple of weeks either he or I will be out of town and I’ll barely get to see him.

I went hiking with several friends on Friday. Considering the kind of week I’ve been having, I probably should have stayed away from trails along 30 foot drops, cold rivers, and wilderness. As you know, I didn’t die and I came down from the mountain in one piece. The best part about being up in the San Gabriel Mountains was just being out of LA and not having to deal with traffic. Oh yeah, seeing a tarantula up close was also pretty cool.

Post hike, I thought el Venado and I could go to the Tamale Festival nearby, but instead we (me, el Venado, rooomie J and future roomie L) took advantage of happy hour. Okay, what is the singular form of tamales? I always thought it was tamal and I still insist on that, but why would a whole festival spell the singular form of tamales incorrectly? Using tamale to refer to a single tamal really, really, really, bugs me.

Saturday el Venado and I went to see his co-worker, Jerry, perform with a Filipino folk dance group, Kayamanan Ng Lahi. I’ve seen a lot of Filipino folk dance and it’s always very impressive and beautiful. Of course the best part of the show was not seeing Filipinos in bahags or being in awe of a different kind of pole dance, Pattong. Instead it was just great to see a good friend do his thing and really live his culture.

Finally, I think all the turkey I ate yesterday in a pre-Thanksgiving dinner is still making me sleepy. El Venado came to the dinner at my parent’s house in Hacienda Heights, which was nice and weird at the same time. See, I’ve only brought home one guy before. It’s not that my parents are really strict or I’m ashamed to have a guy I’m seeing around them. Instead, I’ve just tried to keep certains aspects of my life somewhat hidden from them. El Venado played with VR, my puppy. VR seemed to like el Venado much more than the crazy little boys who were running around. If el Venado gets VR’s approval, that’s good enough for me.

P.S. I’m so glad el Venado has cable, or else I’d be missing out on the new Boondocks cartoon series on Adult Swim.

Perdí mi ojo de venado

Posted on November 10, 2005 by cindylu

I’ve narrowly escaped death a handful of times recently. Okay, not death, but injury for sure.

The incidents (in chronological order):

Codazo
While I was hanging out with el Venado, he accidentally elbowed my lower lip. Ouch.

La cucaracha
My roommate, Isa, tried to go all Heathers on me and set 3 bug bombs to fumigate our 3 bedroom apartment while I was sleeping. I know she doesn’t hate me, but didn’t she think that if my car was in the parking lot, my door was closed and my keys were on the kitchen table, I was probably still sleeping in my bed? I was pissed, but we’re cool now that I’m not dead and haven’t grown antennae and wings.

I got good brakes
I think November is my car accident month (see 2004 and 2002). In the last two days, I’ve narrowly escaped two car accidents. Both were not my fault. Stupid LA drivers.

The burrito incident
Yesterday morning, I was walking from the parking lot to Kerckhoff, where I have my student government office. Unknowingly, I stepped on something squisy with my right foot. As my foot slid forward, I struggled to keep from falling and dropping my shoulder bag (which held my laptop, cell phone and camera). I caught my balance, checked to see who had caught my slip and then looked down at the culprit. What was it? Half a bean burrito. I thought I was sliding on a banana peel because that’s what happens in the cartoons and it seems a lot more plausible than slipping on half a bean burrito.

Who the hell slips on a burrito? Me.

Slippery when wet
Today, I almost slipped on my way to class. The cause this time? Wet floors. I slipped despite trying to walk carefully. Someone must be watching out for me ‘causse normally I would have fallen flat on my ass.

Someone please send me an ojo de venado. I’m beginning to think I’m the victim of brujería and I need a limpia or something.

Mil palabras: bamboo wisdom

Posted on November 9, 2005 by cindylu

I visited the UCLA School of Dentistry today. As you would expect the experience was a bit harrowing, and I didn’t even have any work done. When it comes to South Campus I’m automatically lost. I asked a cute dental student how to get to the Student Affairs office and he walked me down the stairs. If there was a Trivial Pursuit about UCLA and we had to identify buildings on a map, I’d so lose when it came to the Health Sciences building and all of South Campus. It’s a good thing I didn’t show Oso that part of campus, or I would have lost my credibility as a tour guide. I found a good friend and former staff member from MEChA Calmecac, M, working as an information officer in the officer. She gave me two manila envelopes full of testimonials from dental students talking about how the astronomical fee hikes have personally affected them.

I left the school, following the directions M gave me which would have led me back to my usual part of campus. Instead of returning to Kerkchoff, I headed over to the Mildred E. Mathias Botanical Garden. Despite being at UCLA over 7 years, I’ve never actually been to the garden, but today I made it before closing time and wandered around for a bit. Since it was a pretty gloomy day, there were only a few people there. Once I was further into the garden, the only indicator I had that I was still at UCLA and in LA was the hum of traffic on the eastern end of the garden and the sight of a high rise Health Sciences building.

I took a seat on one of the many benches and started going through the two envelopes and 81 testimonials. I chose the bench because it was surrounded by a bunch of bamboo with all sorts of carving. There were figures in an Asian language, hearts with initials like “RD + PK, 1999,” and random words.

I found the message above most inspirational.

Lotería Chicana

Monthly Archives: November 2005