Freight Train Runnin' thru the Middle of My Head

Thankful
I'm so very thankful to be back in North Carolina after a hellish drive to and from Chickamauga, GA. I'm not happy not to be there anymore. I'm just super happy not to be in a car. Jason is great company, and the mix CD that he put together was chock full of singable stuff, but 10 hours in a car is no fun, particularly when you spend an hour and a half of that time going 0-5 miles an hour. And stopping. And starting. And stopping.

I'm thankful for Jason's family. They make me laugh the kind of sucking-in-too-much air laughter that starts sounding like hiccups just before the tears start streaming down your cheeks. I'm thankful for Rummy, a game that my dad taught me and that has come in quite handy for adult family gatherings. I stink at it, because I don't "put enough 'tention to it," as I was reminded over the weekend, but it's a fun excuse to sit around a table with people that make you laugh. I also got to play a bit of Clue, which I liked much more than I expected to, even though my logic abilities are nothing to be proud of.

And oh, the food. A good ol' fashioned pig out. I won't go into any detail, because I'm a bit ashamed of all the food I ingested over the course of the weekend (not just on Thanksgiving day). But I can tell you is this: if you haven't had Jason's mom's mashed potatoes, you have no idea what you're missing.

Tired? Or Lazy?
I think I get sick at the right moments sometimes...the moments when you are so tired you just want to sleep and do nothing else. And being sick provides the perfect excuse. Today I got to stay in bed until 9, a rare treat for me, since I'm usually up at 6 to get ready for my 8:00 class. I didn't have much of a choice, seeing as how a nasty sinus headache kept my head glued to the pillow until the sun got so bright through the blinds that I just couldn't take it anymore.

I need to shower, but right now I just don't feel like it. Is that being tired? Or lazy? Jason thinks showers cure everything. Anytime I'm feeling at all bad, or have insomnia, or a headache, or a toothache, or any ailment, he says "jump in the shower!" Me, I'm not so convinced. My friend Tim says that Big Mac's cure everything. I just don't know if I could stomach one. I haven't had a Big Mac since I was in high school, I don't think. Yuck.

I need some help from Santa's elves
I'm getting a bit nervous about the forthcoming holiday season, because it means that we have to buy gifts for (I'm not kidding here) 9 kids, none of which are our own. From 2-13 years old and everything in between. It's sort of fun being the cool aunt and uncle, but it puts a lot of pressure on for gifts. I'm too busy to put as much effort into it as usual, though. Usually I really go all out looking for the perfect gift, keeping every kid's individual personality and interests in mind. I've already gotten an Ello set for my niece Kelsi (don't fear...she doesn't read the blog so the surprise won't be spoiled!). A Lego's set for my smallest cousin, Adam. That's it so far. A long, long way to go. I'm looking for walkie talkies, the cool old fashioned kind, for brothers Alby (5) and Nicholas (7).

Still sick but functioning (sort of)
Washington Heights was very, very good. A bit sad, though. No deep thoughts on it at the moment...head too stuffy to think well. But, I liked it. Sorry that's all you get (for now at least).

Night before last, in a Nyquil haze, I ran smack into our dresser and gave myself some lovely bruises. Last night, I got to bed safely and pretty much stayed there, although the damn cats kept waking me up. Jason was working, and they don't like it when one of us is asleep and the other awake. It throws off their whole universe somehow.

Can it please just be Wednesday already?

My head weighs 200 lbs
My students have gotten me sick (again). Stuffy head, stuffy nose, coughing. General dizziness and tiredness. So today I am being forced to rest, like it or not. I'm going to try and check off a few of the easier things on my to-do list, but after that, it's resting time. I have to get better before we drive to Chickamauga, GA for Thanksgiving to hang out with Jason's family.

Last night, contuining my current Dominican thing, I rented Raising Victor Vargas and Washington Heights. Raising (the first feature film directed by Peter Sollett) was very interesting...a look at sexuality, religion, conflicts between family and friends, and generally just growing up Latino/a in the Lower East Side. A bit like All the Real Girls in that it was more a character study than a traditional film with a concrete plot and such. I annoy myself when I can't watch movies for fun anymore, but I was thinking that it would be a great addition to a class I'm designing for the future on the construction of masculinity in Latin American and Latino/a lit and culture. Haven't watched Washington Heights yet. That's for later today.

I want to read
I'm reading this really amazing novel, which I'm completely engrossed in and want to do nothing but finish: Solo cenizas hallarás (bolero), which translates to There Will Only Be Ashes, by the Dominican Pedro Verges.

Meanwhile, I'm writing a final exam. And damn me, I'm such a perfectionist when it comes to writing exams. I hate shoddy exams. I hate exams that look like they were thrown together and/or have no pedagogical foundation. Or are too easy. Or too hard. Gah. Exams! I wish we could just throw them out the window and learn for fun. I should start my own university! But then what would I do with clip art?

Oh, and this: I'm as much for order and precision as the next person. Well, ok...as the fourth or fifth person. But anyway...this guy that bagged my groceries at the HT today took the cake. There was a bag just for paper products. A bag just for dairy products. A bag with "bathroom" stuff in it (but not paper products). A bag that had chips in it. A bag for cans. You get the picture. I had about 20 bags to carry in, when it should've taken only 5 or 6. Gah! Bags! I should start my own grocery store.

Should I write my own novel in Spanish? Oh, no...wait. I like the one I'm reading.

Stain removal
Look up how to remove any stain, on any material. My stain? Olive oil on rayon. Yuck. I'm stain prone, though, so I'm not surprised. I ruin lots of clothes.

Making syllabi
Have you ever written a syllabus? Well, if not, let me tell you...it's both exciting and scary. Daunting, I might dare say. Yes, daunting. Think about it: you're telling a group of people that these books are good. So good, you want other people to read them. So good, you want them to not only read them but to have something intelligent to say and maybe even write about them. Of all the novels ever written from, say, the Caribbean, you've picked these 6 (or 7 or 8 or whatever) to represent that whole region (or time period, or theme, or author, or what have you). Scary, scary responsibility. Cool, though, yes. I mean, I can make the choices. What if I hate Mr. X, so-called canonical author that everyone else feels obligated to read? I leave him off. What if I think this new writer is pretty darn cool and has something new and exciting to say? I can put her on there. But still...daunting. I can think of no better word for this.

Still, tomorrow we write poetry in my Intro to Hispanic Lit class, and that will be a fun day. Something to look forward to. I'm always amazed at some of the gems of true brillance I get from students, after 40 minutes of cruising the Museo del Prado website and finding a painting that inspires them. I love this day of the class!

Alex Rivera
Saw filmmaker/visual artist Alex Rivera speak again tonight. Saw him last year at Duke and became absolutely fascinated by his enthusiasm and his interesting and multi-layered take on immigration, biculturalism, identity and technology. When he speaks about his art, he rocks back and forth with such energy, his hands flying and his eyes sparkling. He speaks from his heart, but also his head, and with such a passion that it's hard not to get swept up in what he's saying. His films are touching, funny, serious, contemplative, challenging, a mix of emotions. Again, hard not to get wrapped up in them. Check out www.alexrivera.com if you want to take a look for yourself. I'm a big fan. I'm going to try and convince the Institute for Latin American Studies to buy some of his films. They'd be great in a class about Latino/a identity and/or culture. If you click on "Videos" you can actually watch some of them. Ones I've seen and can vouch for: Papapá, Love on the Line, Día de la Independencia, Why Cybraceros?

This has happened to me at least four times
Day off from class. I walk into the library, wearing the all important uniform for spending 6-8 hours there doing some hard core researching and cruising the stacks: sweatshirt, jeans, sneakers.

I go to the circulation desk with a large stack of books, hand the very young-looking person behind the desk my ID. S/he scans it.

S/he looks at me. Looks back at screen. Looks at me.

"You're a professor here?" (alternatives: "Are you a faculty member?" and "I thought you were a TA.")

I just grin and say, "yes, I am. Now please use the cool little stamp that gives me books until May. Thank you."

"If I'd heard 'Thunder Road' in some girl's bedroom in 1975, decided that it was okay, and had never seen the girl or listened to the song much again, then hearing it now would probably bring back the smell of her underarm deodorant. But that isn't what happened; what happened was that I heard 'Thunder Road' and loved it, and I've listened to it at (alarmingly) frequent intervals ever since" (Nick Hornby, Songbook).

Hornby has this interesting theory that we love some songs not because they remind us of a moment in time, not because they are linked to memories, as is often thought. Instead, he thinks that one of the reasons we become deeply attached to certain songs is that they somehow capture our identities, they represent us, remind us of us. Or maybe they represent who we want to be. What songs speak to you? Or for you?

I guess Hornby's theory doesn't really explain my personal obsession with Thunder Road. I, too, remember the first time I heard it. I listened to it over and over and over and over again for about a week. And I wrote down the lyrics, studied them, read them like poetry. I don't identify with the narrator of that song, "pulling out of here to win," wind whipping through my hair with the top pulled back. But, maybe I identify with Mary? Looking out from a safe spot on the porch, feeling not so young anymore? Maybe I see a bit of my hometown in that song, the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets?

One thing I've realized is that sometimes I like what I can only describe as working class music. This, I think, explains my love of Springsteen, Mellencamp, Ryan Adams, Johnny Cash, and some others. I wrote a poem last night about my dad, listening to Johnny Cash, a voice that makes me shiver and my soul feel hollow. I remembered, in a sudden flash that brought on a tremendous sadness, that my dad loves Johnny Cash. He used to sing his songs in a really exaggerated vibrato, stretching with his hands to reach the lowest notes. I laughed then, or ignored him, but now I think it was kind of beautiful, especially his rendition of "I Walk the Line."

My mom? She is a Patsy Cline fan. But that's a story for another post.

Incorporating technology into the classroom
When I think about how I incorporate technology into the classroom, I mostly don't think about it. I mean, I just do it. It comes so naturally to me at this point. Sure, some of it is Powerpoint galore, but I think there is a certain simplicity and beauty in Powerpoint. I like how I can put a painting up on the screen with some of its Baroque features typed onto it. I also like how I can link directly to a website, or to a song that illustrates some point I'm making. I know that a lot of the more technically inclined people in the world probably scoff at my Powerpoint, but it does the job I need it to do. Favorite technology moments this semester:

* Dolores Prida, Cuban-American playwright, is known for her use of music (particularly boleros). So, when we read "Coser y cantar," I found one of the actual Cuban songs that the characters play/sing and played it for my students. It so perfectly illustrated some of the themes of the play: nostalgia, exile, identity, "camp." And the students all commented on how helpful it was to hear it, not just read it. Teaching for multiple intelligences is a good thing!

* Showing themes in Renaissance literature with Renaissance paintings. And a clip of Dead Poets' Society (the carpe diem scene).

* Using actual photos from Costa Rica to practice nature words and talk about Ecotourism. First vocabulary recall, then creative conversation as students planned trips.

* A Day of the Dead collage of images and information that led students toward thinking about the differing concepts of and attitudes toward death here and in Mexico. Seeing the laughing, joking, dressed up skeletons and skulls seemed to get that point across very easily.

* A fantastic digital piece that a student group put together: a 21st century, Tarantino-meets-Ed Burns take on a medieval tale with a ridiculous moral.

* A discussion forum that has seen good days and bad, but that has sparked some interesting conversation about things that we didn't have time to talk about in class: the socioeconomic class of our authors, recurring stereotypes in the lit we've read, personal definitions of poetry, and how the lit we're reading relates to things going on in their lives.

It is funny to me to think that 10 years ago I was afraid of computers. I thought that if I touched one, it might explode. Or that if I hit the wrong button, I would break it. Now I don't know where I'd be without them.

I'm in my faculty study!
That's right, y'all. I'm in the faculty study. I'm about to dig into some postmodern theory. I have my bottle of water, my laptop, my books, my ever-important yellow legal knee pad (narrow ruled), various writing utensils. It is deathly quiet. I can hear the ringing in my ears. My neighbor, whose tiny monastery-like window I can see through my tiny monastery-like window, has his/her light on, too. So I'm not alone. I like his/her carrel from what I can see because it is totally filled with books. They are lined up on the windowsill and look rather beautiful with their assorted colors. I can't see what they're about, though. I only have 8 books in here right now, but more will be coming today.

I wrote a lot of my most interesting thoughts in my dissertation carrel two years ago, and I'm hoping this one will be as productive. But the view is not as good. Here, I see another window and bricks. There, I saw the hills beyond campus and rooftops. At least I could see what the weather was like. One really memorable day I watched it snow for hours, a beautiful blanket slowly covering campus. I watched the traffic creep by. I watched people slipping and sliding past, looking up at the sky, wearing colorful hats and gloves.

Now that I think about it, maybe it's better that this carrel doesn't have a view.

Sunday nights
Here's something strange about me: I basically don't sleep on Sunday nights. A combination of sleeping too late on Saturday and Sunday and worrying too much about the week ahead. The horrible effect of this is that I have to get up at 6:00 a.m. anyway, so I end the day completely and totally wiped out. Monday nights are virtually useless. I stare into space and get lost in the TV, too tired to do anything that takes effort. I went to a lecture today by a scholar that I really admire, but I was so sleepy I almost nodded off twice and couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. Shameful. At least next semester my first class is at 10:00 instead of 8:00. Whew.

All the Real Girls
Just saw All the Real Girls, directed and written by a former North Carolina School for the Arts student, David Gordon Green. The lead actor, Paul Schneider, was also a student there. I'm too tired to reflect on the film in a way that would do it justice, but I can say this: the images in it are still with me, 24 hours later. It is a gorgeous piece of art. Filmed near Asheville, North Carolina, it is a feast for the eyes. Not all of it is the gorgeous mountains, fall colors, and sleepy little towns iconic of that part of NC, though. Juxtaposed with these images are abandoned and rusted out cars, dilapidated factories in ruins, dogs with their back legs smashed, and other such pictures that were still sort of beautiful, in a very raw way. The characters in this movie were so real, so believable, like people I might have gone to school with, or neighbors, or cousins.

Also seen: the new Matrix. Eh. Ok. Not wholly satisfying, but cool to look at.

The week that wouldn't end and a totally cool website for literary geeks
Yeah, it's been one of those. No major catastrophes, no tragedies, no big screw ups. Just one of those weeks that goes and goes and goes like an endless toothache. You poke at it, because you can't figure out what else to do. You take an aspirin, you try not to think about it. But it's there, nagging and taunting you like a 5-year-old bully.

One of those weeks made up of those days when you drop things (3 times in a row), when you lose things (that you just had a second ago), when the emails and phone calls pile up, when everybody needs a little piece of you. One of those weeks when everything you say comes out wrong, when nothing you do seems quite right.

Good news: tomorrow is Friday. Bad news: tomorrow is Friday and that means it's one more day in this endless week.

Last night, in a fury of a brainstorm that never quite produced any thunder or lightning, I thought of a cool idea for teaching rhetorical figures and tropes. Look up some lyrics to 80's songs and get the students to pick them out of there. Show them that this isn't just stuff from the 16th century. Anybody got any nominations? As an example of personification, how about "Love Bites" (Def Leppard??)? For apostrophe (is that how you say it in English), how about one of the millions of songs to women, like "Beth"? What about "Sussudio" for alliteration?? Got any other suggestions?? Email me. My students would probably love it.

[UPDATE: HOLY CRAP!!! I just now googled for "rhetorical figures" and saw that this idea has sort of been done already, but not with music: check out this amazing site: a cool tool for lit teachers and just a neat novelty site for geeks and literary types!]

Here's how to count syllables
I have two favorite kinds of poetry:
1) the kind that makes your head spin with its acrobatic imagery. I like reading a poem and saying, "Wow that was beautiful. What was that about?" and then having to read it again. And maybe again. Liking it without knowing quite why. Reading it and saying, "Yeah." With a deep sigh. I get it. I don't understand it, maybe, but I get it. I like poems that make me want to write a poem. Or to wish I had written that very same poem.

2) the kind that dares to be radical enough to be about something totally inane. The more quotidian the words and subject, the better, because I like it when poetry crosses with the everyday and breaks down the hierarchies between so-called high culture and low. Neruda's "Odas elementales," for example. Parra's Antipoetry. Poetry about stuff that traditionally wouldn't be considered poetic. Maybe that's why I like certain songwriters. Those, like Ryan Adams, who can make a fist fight sound like the most beautiful ballet in the world, turn a baseball game into the ultimate symbol of an emotional revolution, and make the image of taking baths with Sylvia Plath striking, melancholy, and profound in all its banality.

When I first read ee cummings, I remember, even though I was just 12, I felt like I had stumbled onto something bigger than me. Something magic. And I remember with an extraordinary vividness the day that we discussed William Carlos Williams' poem about a red wheelbarrow in AP English class. Everyone but me thought it was totally stupid. That a child could have written it. Not me, man. I was blown totally away by the simplicity of it, the starkness, the beauty of such an ordinary thing. I can still quote that poem. Do you remember where you were when you first read this?

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

(I know you love that one, Tacia and Loren)

So anyway, that's me. I like poetry when it questions the old (what I see as snooty) notions of high art. Poetry that is accessible to all and doesn't construct unnecessary boundaries. We can all be poets. We should all be able to read poetry. And so imagine me in class yesterday, plastic smile, as I taught my students how to count poetic syllables and mark rhyme schemes, thus determining what type of poem they were reading.

I felt a little bit like going all Mr. Keating on them (sorry, Dead Poets' Society reference) and telling them to start ripping. Let 'em fly, people, let 'em fly. But I didn't. They need to know what that foundation is made of before we can start chipping away at it, right?

What's in your Itunes?
After Jason's on-line swooning over Itunes (geeesh), I have to admit that I, too, am in love with Itunes. Here's what I have in my Itunes right now:

Aretha Franklin (Greatest Hits)
all the Ryan Adams CD's, with one more getting added tomorrow when Rock n' Roll comes out finally!!
three Springsteen CD's (more to be added later)...Born to Run (duh!), The Rising, Darkness on the Edge of Town
Jason Mraz (don't scoff...he's cool!)
two Goo Goo Dolls albums (did you know they used to be a punk band?? They played at CBGB's!
Matchbox Twenty, more than you think you are
John Mellencamp, Trouble No More

More to come...I'm thinking of adding some Sting, The Police, Natalie Merchant, Molotov, Orishas, Juan Luis Guerra, Who else???? The possibilities are endless! I love music.

November is speaker time
Despite the fact that it's over 80 degrees outside (!!!!!), it is November. This month typically brings with it a bevy of speakers, presentations, lectures, and more feasts for the intellectual mind. Here are some highlights for me:

XVII Latin American Film and Video Festival in the Triangle. Look here for a complete list of screenings and other events. Some of the stuff I'm excited about include an afternoon/evening of documentaries on Chile (November 9, UNC), two documentaries on Cuba--one about the guy who took the famous iconic Che Guevara photo and one called "Fidel" (November 11, Duke). Then...

An evening with film director Alex Rivera. He'll be presenting his latest film, The Sixth Section. I saw him speak at Duke several months ago and was really intrigued by his work, both humorous and bitingly serious. His bicultural, hybridized art delves into the future of digital technologies, what these technologies might mean for those who do not have access to them, and other political issues, always centered around the burgeoning population of Latino/a immigrants. In addition to being a talented filmmaker, he's also an engaging speaker, so I'm extremely excited that I'll get to see him again.

Walter Mignolo, William H. Wannamaker Professor at Duke University, 11/13 at 4:00 in Toy Lounge, UNC. "From the Mediterranean to the Atlantic: The Foundations of Modernity/Coloniality, XVth to XVIIth Centuries"

November 17, 12:30 p.m.-1:30 p.m., UCIS Conference Room, 223 E. Franklin St.
The University Center for International Studies (USIC) presents the Rockefeller Forum and Seminar Series Transnational Womanhood: Negotiating Gender in the Global South. Lucila Vargas will speak on "Performing young Latina identity: media images and cultural citizenship."

There are so many others, I can't put them all here. But these are the main ones I'll be attending. Maybe I'll see some of you there?

My night as a luchador
The night started with parking lot antics with Jason, Cheryl, and Jerry while we waited for Karen, Tacia, and Loren to come to Tsunami for some tasty sushi. Thor....uh, I mean Jerry...kept trying to smash things with his almighty hammer. Luckily no one was hurt, but there were some close calls. Tacia came as the little girl from Monsters, Inc. and I almost squeezed her to death when she spontaneously yelled "Kitty!" after dinner. A memorable moment. Also at dinner were a ninja, an escaped convict, a nun, Thor, and two Mexican luchadores.

Dinner rocked. If you haven't gone to Tsunami (HWY 54, next to the bowling alley), PLEASE go. You will not be disappointed. So fresh and good. And, the tempura is to die for. It was kind of funny eating sushi in our costumes, but Jason and I did at least have the smarts to take off the luchador masks.

Then it was on to the pre-Franklin Street soiree of Charles and Owen, which was filled with fun SILSers and friends-of-SILSers in wacky costumes. Pretty much like every SILS party. :) Owen's deer was my favorite, I think, although it was kind of scary too. Cool and scary. Like so many things.

The costumes on Franklin were interesting to say the least! Too many Spongebobs, and lots of Wonder Women. We were the only luchadores I saw. I got absolutely no comments, but Jason got several, including a silent thumbs up from a guy who walked right up to him and took his picture. Thor definitely caused the biggest stir in our crowd, though. Being as tall as Jerry and wearing a platinum blond wig (but not in drag) tends to get attention, it seems.