A Much Needed Rant

Why does Academia have to be so political? I swear sometimes I think about just going to Law School, at least there the sharks show their teeth. Don't get me wrong, I see the amazing work folks are producing by rethinking theories and histories, but every now and then I can't help but take a second look and question whether I see myself in these spaces. Maybe I'm just frustrated with all the hustling I've been doing with grad school applications... la verdad no sé. Am I really suppose to compete with other people by proving to grad schools why I'm some kind of a badass that should accept me into their program and not the other person who might NEED this opportunity just as much? How am I suppose to feel knowing that there's some other Latin@ out there who has worked just as hard as me to get where they're at, and I have to compete with them because we're working under this capitalist system? What am I suppose to think when I'm competing against people whom have sacrificed pieces of themselves so they can be here because they too have dreams?  
I just need a second (or two) to breathe and remind myself of why I committed myself to this work. All these late nighters (sometimes all nighters) weren't for nothing. All those times I had to hustle to make ends meet in order for me to stay in school weren't porque se me dio la gana. I truly believe in this work and I value what it means to people from different communities, which is why Cisnero's House on Mango Street has always been that refuge for me. Cada vez que leo, "When you leave you must remember to come back for the others. A circle, understand? You will always be Esperanza. You will always be Mango Street. You can't erase what you know. You can't forget who you are," goosebumps rise and tears start streaming down my face. Those are the moments that remind me of why I am here... The truth of the matter is that I am doing this for my siblings. I want them to know they can always come to me for anything-- they're the ones that keep me going. Aside from working hard to watch them grow into strong and compassionate human beings, I want the opportunity to mentor people who have often times been told they can't surmount to other people's expectations. 
Michelle Obama recently made a commet that resonated in my heart: "If it weren't for a little dreamin', I wouldn't be here. See because I was that ten-year old little girl. I am not supposed to be here. I wasn't supposed to go to Princeton because somebody told me my test scores weren't high enough. I wasn't supposed to go to Harvard law school because they said it would be too much for me. Every step of the way, in my life, and so many of you out there have bee

n told no, don't, you can't, wait we're not ready, wait you're turn, all the while, knowing in your heart, that you are better than anybody's limited expectations of you... I want young people out there to understand that if they push past other people's limited expectations of them and reach for their seats at the table that other people feel so entitled to, when they get to that table, they're going to find that they are just as ready, just as qualified as, just as capable as anyone sitting around that table. See because those doubts and fears that we fester in this society, those are a lie. So we need to do a little dreaming."First of all I want to say fuck the table! It represents the structures of capitalism that have us competing and stabbing each other in the back; however, I do agree with the fact that we have to go back for the others. It's a circle. This is what I constantly say to myself... I'm here to do everything I can to support and motivate those that have been told they can't write that amazing novel, or those that are told they aren't good enough for college so they might as well find an alternative. Aquí estoy, ready to pass down my hustling skills to the next badass. 

The Story of a Flaneur

  I've finally completed a draft of my statement of purpose!!! Breaking this writer's block is no joke people. I'm amazed of how bashful I've become, I use to never be this way. Writing has always been a necessity for me and I wonder how I manage to cope with the days I don't get the chance to write. There has to be a way I release the tension and stress-- in any case I broke the writer's block.
  These past few weeks have been intense. Looking for a place right at the start of my last semester is no fun, especially with applications breathing down my neck. This is why I haven't had the chance to blog but I'm finally putting this all behind me and focusing on the remainder of my stay in Berkeley. The reminder of my stay, that sounds so strange to think out loud. I've grown so attached to this place that I don't think I'm ready to leave. A few weeks ago I was back in LA and I began to picture myself living there again, but all I saw were fuzzy images... fuzzy images and the enveloping dry heat I once loved. Past tense because I'm not the same person I once was. Neruda says it best: "Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos."
  I have such a superficial cognizance of Los Angeles now, but I try to hold on to what I can-- what was once there. I'll walk through the streets I was once familiar with, but I sense the detachment of a former lover. The heat touches my skin, I glance around but I just can't register what I once felt as I'd walk through those streets... I suppose this is the outcome of an individual who has chosen to step away from what they were once so familiar with. In any case, I know these fuzzy images can be polished-- that's what's so wonderful about humanity-- we learn to adapt.
  I'm a hopeless romantic, without a doubt. Sometimes I romanticize situations too much, but that's not always a bad thing. I say this because as I began to sort through the unfocused images of K-town, Glendale, Eagle Rock, Highland Park, and Riverside (I moved a lot), I saw a hint of possibility. Maybe this detached, former lover can reciprocate more than I'm giving them credit for. Maybe through this blanket of heat I can feel the residual effects of what was once familiar. In any case, I'm just typing out loud (TOL). The reality is I can only imagine so much before I'm left with the fact that I'll be ok; no matter where I'm at or what I'm doing, I know I'll be OK. Is this hubris talking? I'd like to think it's something more reflective-- something more responsive to my past. A requited, former lover maybe... Like I said, I'm a hopeless romantic.  

From These Ashes...

These ashes once told a story. They held together a picture and witnessed an ephemeral moment-- an inevitable series of events lost in a time lag. We live by aphorisms: what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, they say. These feelings of raw nature dignify us and remind us of our human condition. I refuse to believe this process calls for a pyrrhic victory, it's a sacrifice but not an ultimate defeat. These moments (these ashes) they reveal the very last inch of ourselves, regardless of the narrative....

On that note, my last semester as an undergraduate is just a few days away. I could write about my academic experiences, about what I was feeling as I walked through UCR (and eventually UCB), but that wouldn't even begin to cover the experiences between those corner stones. As much as I recognize the flaws in these institutions, I had to learn at an early age that they were my ticket out of a then hostile environment dictated by religious principles. In hindsight, I've learned, or rather accepted, the one general truth anyone can appreciate: what doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger. Now that my next chapter is just around the corner, I can keep those words close to my soul and blindly (but confidently) take the first few steps.

The job applications, the college graduate applications... they don't define who I am. This is something I have to keep reminding myself. I don't know if I'll be in a graduate program next fall, or out of the country; I just have to make sure I don't lose myself in the process. One of the reasons why I'm so fixated with the concepts of time and space is because I believe they truly ARE socially constructed. I knew that at such an early age when I would refuse to go to school because the routine wasn't doing it for me. That anxiety I would get the night before the week started was, in part, because I didn't want to feel like a headless chicken running in the world.  Maybe that's just the dreamer in me, but I'm sure glad I kept those child ideals intact.

Regardless of this social construct, I am obliged to partake in the hype. And since that's the case, I will continue to walk through the world like a headless chicken, but with my free-spirited youth by my side. I'll continue to do this, even if it requires every inch of myself-- every speck of ash.

Keep Calm and Bidi Bidi Bom Bom

One breath at a time. That's what I keep telling myself. I can't believe August is already here, and I feel like I have a million things to do before the start of my last semester as an undergrad. **Deep breath** **Bidi Bidi Bom Bom**
I can't say I haven't been having fun lately. I've been constantly hopping over to the other side of the Bay looking for trouble. I'm so fortunate to live in such a beautiful area. Every time I catch the bus heading to SF, I sit at the very back and watch the Bay as we drive into the Bay Bridge. I'll be listening to Minnie Riperton's sweet voice as I watch the docks, ships, and sail boats lingering within that massive pond. As we're about to enter the bridge, it feels like it's about to sink but in that moment I'm completely detached from my worries. I've escaped "the routine," and a sense of mischief possesses me; in that moment I am free.
I remember that feeling of escape. I use to feel it as a child when I didn't want to go to school. My mom would make a deal with me, "Si te quedas en la casa, me lavas los trastes y limpias la sala." That was the deal, and I would gladly succumb to those orders. I would stay home, write, watch TV and in that moment I felt as if I had stepped out of the cycle of absurdity-- away from the world. I felt free. That's kinda what it feels like when I'm crossing that bridge....
There's so much history here. I recently finished a book for my Summer research project called The Squatter and the Don, by María Amparo Ruiz de Burton. She's considered the first Mexican American novelist, with works that go as far back as the early 19th century. In the novel she describes Alta California's imagery and the San Francisco Bay as her characters depart Oakland on a steamer heading to the other side. I can't help but wonder how much history lies beneath us, how many people lived here before we did. Thoughts on the injustices that took place in order to build these cities run across my mind, and Ruiz de Burton reminds me why I'm here. Even though I decide to escape for a brief moment, I try not to forget why I'm here.
This brave woman wrote novels about the fluid power dynamics in the Southwest as a rhetorical strategy to persuade readers not to abuse their privilege. She was specifically targeting U.S. settlers (also known as squatters) in hopes of demonstrating the injustices committed by Congress against Mexicans who stayed in California after 1848. There were many sketchy policies that forced these people (now labeled Mexican-Americans) to pay taxes for their land, all the while these squatters stole their land and shot their cattle.
There's a passage in the story with the governor of California and one of the protagonists (the Don) meeting up to discuss the future of California. The Don tries convincing the governor to build a train that helps people in Southern California partake in the growing industrial revolution that exploded after the Civil War. The governor rejects his offer and ends the conversation by saying, "If I did not cause this misery you apprehend, someone would. Be sure of it, for there will always be misery in the world, no matter who causes it." Failure to build the Texas Pacific caused the Don to lose investments he had made for that project. This man fought against all odds (discrimination from Americans, injustices by the squatters, etc) only to lose everything in that moment. Ruiz de Burton wrote these stories as an emotional appeal to her readers.
This really put things into perspective for me. I walk around campus looking at buildings such as Hearst, and I'm reminded of the men that came over during the 1800's only to exploit this land. Men like Stanford and Hearst were thieves, and here I stand as a student amongst the tragic history. I try not to let it drown me, I try not to let it destroy me, but it's very difficult. This is why I escape, for my own sanity. I briefly escape for self care. Audre Lorde once said that self-care is an act of political warfare, and that's precisely what I'm doing. I don't let this history get to me, instead I remember why I am here.

Where Do I Begin?

7-26-12 12:49 am

I finally worked up the nerve to start a blog. It's not that I don't like to write or anything, but school has definitely been my life these past few years. This is precisely why I'm finally writing; I want to pour myself into this and have some piece of mind. Where do I begin? I feel like I've lived many lives: I've been a student at UCR who transferred to Cal, and now I'm in the process of applying to grad schools. Who would've have thought this student on subject to dismissal (STD) would have gone so far? Every time I self-reflect I'm amazed with everything I've been through. I've been through hell and back; I've been the villain and the hero, and what I now have to show for are my battle scars (some more tender than others).
The main reason for starting this blog is so I can go back and reflect on my experiences. We're so caught up with our daily lives that we forget to take a second (or a few) to pause and go over our day. For some reason the days seem to be going by hella fast, and I don't want to think back one day and realize that I never gave myself more credit for never quitting (even when I thought there was no way out).
So where do I begin? I know, I'll start with this week. Monday was amazing, I made a new friend and we immediately u-hualed it (now I'm her gay boyfriend). Her name is K, she's originally from El Lay and she transferred here last Spring semester. She's also an English major and she plans to attend law school. I'm so proud of everything she has accomplished, especially after overcoming her past experiences. I truly admire people that can overcome struggles and move forward. Sometimes I feel like I'm too critical with myself, and maybe others, because I tend to show tough love. I've toned it down for the most part because I understand that everyone is different and we react to our experiences in many different ways. I'd like to think that I'm more compassionate than I once was, which is part of our learning experiences.
Other than making a new friend, I've been busy with class, summer research, and my GRE classes. I'm currently taking a Romantic poetry class with one of the best professors I've had in all of my undergraduate years. One of the requirements for the class is presenting, with a group of people, some of the poems we cover in class. My group chose to write a skit, and the professor loved it! We mimicked the show In The Actor's Studio, but rather than interview an actor we had the resuscitated William Wordsworth come to the show (played by yours truly). The class couldn't get enough and I'm pretty sure we set the bar.
On top of summer school and group projects, I've also been working on my summer research with a professor in the English department. We're exploring the genealogy of Chicano narratives and focusing on 19th century writing. I've been living in the Bancroft library scoping through the microfilms that contain letters from Californians who were here in the 1800's. I feel like I'm an actual grad student working on my dissertation, and going over archives relevant to my work. I don't take this for granted either; I know how fortunate I am to be doing research in one of the best research institutions in the world. I do feel a sense of pride, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Yes, I do call myself out on certain facts (e.g. social capital, problems within institutions, etc.) but I'm also taking into account how my personal experiences help me benefit from my current position as well as how to be grateful for such an opportunity.
It feels great to finally jot down my thoughts and keep them stored for future readings. This will be great for my soul (and my sanity). I'll keep posting little miscellaneous stories here and there along with my preachy tone of voice and see where it goes from there. Until then!