the space above my eyebrows feels like playdough I can poke and smear over my eyes ... my chueco bangs stick to my forehead like sweaty thighs on vinyl car seats in el caminos...
Teaching all day and going to uni for 3+ hours everyday is making me tiiiirrrrreeeeddd.
Just wanted to post my excuse for not posting yesterday and today... have set alarm for 1:40 a.m. to read and write.
Myra Infante Sheridan
FESTIBA
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
After only one day of chican@ poetry and poetics...
After reading Angela de Hoyos' "Arise, Chicano!"
Why didn’t I ever want to rebel against the white establishment? IS it because I didn’t think for myself? Is it because I didn’t consider myself a Chicana? I remember thinking my friends had much heavier accents than me, and how that somehow made me better. How could I ever think that? I definitely need to explore this more.
After reading Jose Angel Gutierrez
I too had the 3-way upbringing...
1) Spanish only at home with the added pressure of fundamentalist Christianity
2) Going to a different school because I was in a G/T class (major Gringolandia), being 1 of only 2 or 3 students who had free lunch and feeling marginalized by it
3) Not fitting in with the neighborhood kids because I was too agringada
Random thought: Maybe because I had a safe childhood? Maybe that's why I didn't rebel against the establishment and I just accepted my submissive indoctrination.
My friend's story She’s 36 years old and she got married a couple of years ago. Her husband makes less money than she does and so she pays most of the bills. She told me she’d like to go on a trip this summer with either her family or with the study abroad program. She said her husband won’t let her go, saying that he wouldn’t go without her-- so why should she go. She feels pressured to look perfectly manicured around his family because they criticize everything about her, and often tell her she’s gaining weight. He on the other had is getting a bigger and bigger belly, and his family thinks he’s gorgeous. Her father always takes her husband’s side. She went shopping to the mall recently and her father asked her if she had informed her husband that she was spending money. Money she earns; money she uses to support her husband. When I witness this, I feel the suffocating thickness of patriarchal rule.
Thoughts about my father:
I often wonder why my father never learned English. I consider him a highly intelligent person-- an expert in his field. I'd like to write a fictional story based on my dad. I wonder if being betrayed by his family influenced his refusal to assimilate American culture. I know it's farfetched, but there might be a connection.
My father was used to being betrayed by his family:
1) At the age of 20+ he went to Cali to work for his wedding. He sent the money to my grandmother to safe keep for him, and my grandmother spent it all-- he didn't even get an apology. He says he had been collecting coins for my grandmother and he simply handed her the jar with the coins when he got to Rio Bravo, and turned back around and went back to Cali to try and work for the money his family stole from him.
2) My dad built my mother a house in Rio Bravo with his own two hands. After about 3 or 4 yrs of marriage and having two kids, they migrated North (into the U.S.) My uncle sold my dad and mom’s house with all their possessions while they were gone.
Some words I encountered in what I was reading...
Pachuco, pachuca, chuco chuca, ruco, ruca, vato, rascuache
Another random thought...
England invaded many countries and had many territories, commiting attrocities and exploiting their people. Today, they let people from these territories into their country as a compensation (maybe for the bad things they did.) The U.S. should do the same with Mexicans. They it owe it to us. ( I have to do research on this because I'm just saying :/)
Anyway... I know this is all random... but they were thoughts swimming around in my head.
xoxo Myra
Why didn’t I ever want to rebel against the white establishment? IS it because I didn’t think for myself? Is it because I didn’t consider myself a Chicana? I remember thinking my friends had much heavier accents than me, and how that somehow made me better. How could I ever think that? I definitely need to explore this more.
After reading Jose Angel Gutierrez
I too had the 3-way upbringing...
1) Spanish only at home with the added pressure of fundamentalist Christianity
2) Going to a different school because I was in a G/T class (major Gringolandia), being 1 of only 2 or 3 students who had free lunch and feeling marginalized by it
3) Not fitting in with the neighborhood kids because I was too agringada
Random thought: Maybe because I had a safe childhood? Maybe that's why I didn't rebel against the establishment and I just accepted my submissive indoctrination.
My friend's story She’s 36 years old and she got married a couple of years ago. Her husband makes less money than she does and so she pays most of the bills. She told me she’d like to go on a trip this summer with either her family or with the study abroad program. She said her husband won’t let her go, saying that he wouldn’t go without her-- so why should she go. She feels pressured to look perfectly manicured around his family because they criticize everything about her, and often tell her she’s gaining weight. He on the other had is getting a bigger and bigger belly, and his family thinks he’s gorgeous. Her father always takes her husband’s side. She went shopping to the mall recently and her father asked her if she had informed her husband that she was spending money. Money she earns; money she uses to support her husband. When I witness this, I feel the suffocating thickness of patriarchal rule.
Thoughts about my father:
I often wonder why my father never learned English. I consider him a highly intelligent person-- an expert in his field. I'd like to write a fictional story based on my dad. I wonder if being betrayed by his family influenced his refusal to assimilate American culture. I know it's farfetched, but there might be a connection.
My father was used to being betrayed by his family:
1) At the age of 20+ he went to Cali to work for his wedding. He sent the money to my grandmother to safe keep for him, and my grandmother spent it all-- he didn't even get an apology. He says he had been collecting coins for my grandmother and he simply handed her the jar with the coins when he got to Rio Bravo, and turned back around and went back to Cali to try and work for the money his family stole from him.
2) My dad built my mother a house in Rio Bravo with his own two hands. After about 3 or 4 yrs of marriage and having two kids, they migrated North (into the U.S.) My uncle sold my dad and mom’s house with all their possessions while they were gone.
Some words I encountered in what I was reading...
Pachuco, pachuca, chuco chuca, ruco, ruca, vato, rascuache
Another random thought...
England invaded many countries and had many territories, commiting attrocities and exploiting their people. Today, they let people from these territories into their country as a compensation (maybe for the bad things they did.) The U.S. should do the same with Mexicans. They it owe it to us. ( I have to do research on this because I'm just saying :/)
Anyway... I know this is all random... but they were thoughts swimming around in my head.
xoxo Myra
I used to be smart... (Personal Statement for Chican@ Poetry)
I used to be smart. I was the first female in the McAllen I.S.D. to take Calculus as a 16 yr old. Whatever things I accomplished in high school, I did so easily-- never working hard at learning and never really caring. Because of my high SAT scores, I got letters from all the Ivy League schools, Stanford, and even MIT. I fulfilled several quotas: I was smart, I was female, and I was a minority. I thought I could only afford to apply to two universities: UT Austin (which gave me a scholarship and sent me a filled out application for me to sign) and St. Mary’s University.
Life was so different when I was 17 yrs old. I had no identity and I was so inexperienced. My brother told my parents students at St. Mary’s were required to go to Roman Catholic mass every morning. My father is a Pentecostal minister and he believed my brother. Add to that the fact that the scholarship St. Mary’s offered only covered half the costs (and that’s because I was accepted into their honors program.) My parents could offer no help and no advice, so I went to UT Austin.
I was a chubby, Mexican girl who wore glasses, and I didn’t like to party! I still wasn’t taking my academics seriously, and I came back home after one year.
When I was 19, a boy paid serious attention to me for the first time in my life, and even though I didn’t really like him, after a few months I agreed to go out with him. I married him at the age of 22 because my mother had gotten married when she was 22, and my sister had gotten married when she was 22. He took the little self-esteem I had, and I lived wishing for my death for the next four years. I was aimless for years, having lost faith in myself.
I became interested in music, and I learned to play a little piano, bass guitar, and acoustic guitar. I started songwriting, and decided to return to college to take some music classes. I made the Dean’s list my first semester, and got a taste for academia. I switched majors and finished within 3 yrs with Magna Cum Laude honors. I got to travel, and I also got the Dean’s Outstanding Student Award Spring 2009.
I push myself very hard. I’ve worked fulltime throughout my schooling (sometimes carrying 21 semester hours.) Most of the decisions that I made as an undergraduate (including applying to the MFA Creative Writing Program) I made because I love being a student. I suspected I could transfer that love to teaching and I was right. It’s the perfect existence for me—a continuous cycle of learning and teaching.
Something snapped into place for me this school year. It was a combination of writing about my strict religious upbringing and reading Gloria Anzaldua. Something that had been missing all of my life is now a fuzzy light inside me I can identify. I am so far from where I want to be—and I don’t me success-wise—but knowledge-wise (no pun intended!) I want to become an expert in Chicano/Chicana literature. I want to be a Chicana writer. I feel like I found a part of myself, and I don’t want to let go now. This doesn’t mean I can’t be a Shakespeare expert or do a million other things (I still do music and many other dorky things as well.) What it means is that I am free to be myself—who I was born to be—who I shape myself to be.
I used to be smart. Now I’m on my way to being wise.
Life was so different when I was 17 yrs old. I had no identity and I was so inexperienced. My brother told my parents students at St. Mary’s were required to go to Roman Catholic mass every morning. My father is a Pentecostal minister and he believed my brother. Add to that the fact that the scholarship St. Mary’s offered only covered half the costs (and that’s because I was accepted into their honors program.) My parents could offer no help and no advice, so I went to UT Austin.
I was a chubby, Mexican girl who wore glasses, and I didn’t like to party! I still wasn’t taking my academics seriously, and I came back home after one year.
When I was 19, a boy paid serious attention to me for the first time in my life, and even though I didn’t really like him, after a few months I agreed to go out with him. I married him at the age of 22 because my mother had gotten married when she was 22, and my sister had gotten married when she was 22. He took the little self-esteem I had, and I lived wishing for my death for the next four years. I was aimless for years, having lost faith in myself.
I became interested in music, and I learned to play a little piano, bass guitar, and acoustic guitar. I started songwriting, and decided to return to college to take some music classes. I made the Dean’s list my first semester, and got a taste for academia. I switched majors and finished within 3 yrs with Magna Cum Laude honors. I got to travel, and I also got the Dean’s Outstanding Student Award Spring 2009.
I push myself very hard. I’ve worked fulltime throughout my schooling (sometimes carrying 21 semester hours.) Most of the decisions that I made as an undergraduate (including applying to the MFA Creative Writing Program) I made because I love being a student. I suspected I could transfer that love to teaching and I was right. It’s the perfect existence for me—a continuous cycle of learning and teaching.
Something snapped into place for me this school year. It was a combination of writing about my strict religious upbringing and reading Gloria Anzaldua. Something that had been missing all of my life is now a fuzzy light inside me I can identify. I am so far from where I want to be—and I don’t me success-wise—but knowledge-wise (no pun intended!) I want to become an expert in Chicano/Chicana literature. I want to be a Chicana writer. I feel like I found a part of myself, and I don’t want to let go now. This doesn’t mean I can’t be a Shakespeare expert or do a million other things (I still do music and many other dorky things as well.) What it means is that I am free to be myself—who I was born to be—who I shape myself to be.
I used to be smart. Now I’m on my way to being wise.
Monday, May 17, 2010
more re(google)search :P
also according to wikipedia :/ (i'll get some creidible sources soon... i promise!)
The origin of the word is not clear. Mexican researcher Villar Raso attempted to trace the origin to 1930s and 1940s California, although most Chicanos believe the term far predates that assessment some believing it comes from Texas. Nevertheless, according to Raso, the term supposedly stems from "the inability of native Nahuatl speakers from Morelos state to refer to themselves as Mexicanos, and instead spoke of themselves as Mesheecanos, in accordance with the pronunciation rules of their language." It is also thought that the word may have roots in the term "Mejicano," an archaic Spanish and American spelling of "Mexicano," which through the last century evolved into "Jicano" or "Chicano". The pronunciation was supposedly misunderstood by some Mexican Americans, who exaggerated the sound.
The origin of the word is not clear. Mexican researcher Villar Raso attempted to trace the origin to 1930s and 1940s California, although most Chicanos believe the term far predates that assessment some believing it comes from Texas. Nevertheless, according to Raso, the term supposedly stems from "the inability of native Nahuatl speakers from Morelos state to refer to themselves as Mexicanos, and instead spoke of themselves as Mesheecanos, in accordance with the pronunciation rules of their language." It is also thought that the word may have roots in the term "Mejicano," an archaic Spanish and American spelling of "Mexicano," which through the last century evolved into "Jicano" or "Chicano". The pronunciation was supposedly misunderstood by some Mexican Americans, who exaggerated the sound.
Xicana- I did some research... okay, I googled it
According to Wikipedia: "The terms Chicano and Chicana (also spelled Xicana) were originally used by Americans in reference to U.S. citizens of Mexican descent. The term began to be widely used during the Chicano Movement, mainly amongst Mexican Americans, especially in the movement's peak in the late 1960s and early 1970s. The self-identification Chicano is still in popular usage today by some Mexican-American youth. However, the term Chicano was never in use in the Southernmost sections of Texas and was not historically mentioned by members of the Mexican-American community."
Two years ago today...
the events of the following poem began to unfold.
My Fancy
Myra Infante ©2010
Not forever but while I expire
I’ll row with you
And break Spanish trundles
As we rally allegiance
I’ll leave you sheathless
As the rain drips on your
Exposed head trickling
Down the scars affixed to your arm
Ruthful I’ll cede god and country
And harvest leftover insecurities
To feed my conceits
Of brine and scrawls
My Fancy
Myra Infante ©2010
Not forever but while I expire
I’ll row with you
And break Spanish trundles
As we rally allegiance
I’ll leave you sheathless
As the rain drips on your
Exposed head trickling
Down the scars affixed to your arm
Ruthful I’ll cede god and country
And harvest leftover insecurities
To feed my conceits
Of brine and scrawls
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Lazy Weekend... Love Lost and Found Again
Saturday
Went to the early bird showing of “Letters to Juliet.” The young American blonde girl, who works as a fact checker for The New Yorker, aspires to be a writer, and is in an unhappy relationship with Gael Garcia Bernal. Farfetched, but he was playing a wanna be Italian. At first, I thought they had given him an Italian role, and I thought yay versatile Mexican actor, but towards the end of the movie, as they make him more a jerk, we find out he’s a wanna be Italian. The plot has its problems and the writing does as well (ironic since the Amanda Seyfried is playing a writer.) BUT, once the soppiness began, I got happy. :D How can you resist a story about an American girl falling in love with a British boy? When the secretaries of Juliet say Englishmen are cold, the British Boy reminds them Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet. LOVE IT!
The rest of the day was a lazy, guilt-less day. No homework and no worries.
Sunday
Taught Sunday School to itty bitty kids—have one more class to teach. I’ve been trying to quit for ages, but there is no one who wants to take over the class. I must admit, the littlies have grown on me. I posted pics on Twitter (link on my page) I had to teach them the Lord’s Prayer. I don’t think they got it.
Took a nap after lunch (yay at Sunday afternoon naps!) Now I’m thinking about going shopping. ☺
Tomorrow hectic schedule starts again! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!
xoxo
Myra
Went to the early bird showing of “Letters to Juliet.” The young American blonde girl, who works as a fact checker for The New Yorker, aspires to be a writer, and is in an unhappy relationship with Gael Garcia Bernal. Farfetched, but he was playing a wanna be Italian. At first, I thought they had given him an Italian role, and I thought yay versatile Mexican actor, but towards the end of the movie, as they make him more a jerk, we find out he’s a wanna be Italian. The plot has its problems and the writing does as well (ironic since the Amanda Seyfried is playing a writer.) BUT, once the soppiness began, I got happy. :D How can you resist a story about an American girl falling in love with a British boy? When the secretaries of Juliet say Englishmen are cold, the British Boy reminds them Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet. LOVE IT!
The rest of the day was a lazy, guilt-less day. No homework and no worries.
Sunday
Taught Sunday School to itty bitty kids—have one more class to teach. I’ve been trying to quit for ages, but there is no one who wants to take over the class. I must admit, the littlies have grown on me. I posted pics on Twitter (link on my page) I had to teach them the Lord’s Prayer. I don’t think they got it.
Took a nap after lunch (yay at Sunday afternoon naps!) Now I’m thinking about going shopping. ☺
Tomorrow hectic schedule starts again! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!
xoxo
Myra
Friday, May 14, 2010
21 days
21 is a significant number, isn't it? 21 is the drinking age. In twenty-one days you can develop a habit.
Wind down days are odd for me-- the in between days when I've just completed a major period or task and I'm waiting to start a new one.
Logically, I'm aware that I overextend myself- working full time and going to school full time; but my brain and body(somewhat) survive the abuse I put them through. A part of me thinks it's advisable to keep as busy as I do. I can't imagine how anyone gets anything done if they don't keep a tight schedule. While I'm in the midst of all the pressure, I don't really feel it. I'm oblivious most of the time to the responsibilities I've taken on. I wonder if there is a part of the brain that releases endorphine like chemicals that reassure me and make me believe that in the end everything will turn out great.
Tuesday and Wednesday were dark days for me. I had bronchitis. I broke my netbook. I had a major paper due which I approached completely incorrectly (it was supposed to be 8-10 pages long and I had over 19 pages of things I wanted to include.) I had things to take care of for my trip, and time was out of control. The hands on my watch were merciless.
I'm generally a very cheerful and optimistic person, but on Wednesday, I was grumpy.
I thought I had used up all my good luck, and bad luck was just going to keep coming my way. I dreaded what bad thing I would experience next.
Thankfully, the little chemicals in my brain sprayed their pink mist and I started to accept my circumstances, and I regrouped. I finished all my semester work by Wednesday night. I packed my netbook in a box to (hopefully) get repaired, and I reviewed my notes for my trip and realized things were moving along nicely.
My students complain I never show them movies, and today I showed them "Under the Same Moon" with Mexican actors Kate Del Castillo and Eugenio Derbez. Great movie. I showed it three times today and cried every single time. My students enjoyed it as well. We could all relate to the border crossing stories and the hardships that undocumented workers face in the U.S.
I am very grateful for the people who help me along the way. Today, I am especially grateful to Esperanza from The Office of International Programs, Jose, my thesis committee chair, Dr. PAM, English department head, and Dean Guerra. They all worked together to get me a letter I needed for my trip.
As I watched "Under the Same Moon," I thought about all the people we encounter each day who are down on their luck. Maybe they haven't bathed in a while. Maybe they're here looking for a better life. Maybe they haven't seen their loved ones in years. I think a good habit to develop is charity/love/compassion. Purposefully practice it until it becomes a part of our nature. 21 days.
xoxo
Myra
Wind down days are odd for me-- the in between days when I've just completed a major period or task and I'm waiting to start a new one.
Logically, I'm aware that I overextend myself- working full time and going to school full time; but my brain and body(somewhat) survive the abuse I put them through. A part of me thinks it's advisable to keep as busy as I do. I can't imagine how anyone gets anything done if they don't keep a tight schedule. While I'm in the midst of all the pressure, I don't really feel it. I'm oblivious most of the time to the responsibilities I've taken on. I wonder if there is a part of the brain that releases endorphine like chemicals that reassure me and make me believe that in the end everything will turn out great.
Tuesday and Wednesday were dark days for me. I had bronchitis. I broke my netbook. I had a major paper due which I approached completely incorrectly (it was supposed to be 8-10 pages long and I had over 19 pages of things I wanted to include.) I had things to take care of for my trip, and time was out of control. The hands on my watch were merciless.
I'm generally a very cheerful and optimistic person, but on Wednesday, I was grumpy.
I thought I had used up all my good luck, and bad luck was just going to keep coming my way. I dreaded what bad thing I would experience next.
Thankfully, the little chemicals in my brain sprayed their pink mist and I started to accept my circumstances, and I regrouped. I finished all my semester work by Wednesday night. I packed my netbook in a box to (hopefully) get repaired, and I reviewed my notes for my trip and realized things were moving along nicely.
My students complain I never show them movies, and today I showed them "Under the Same Moon" with Mexican actors Kate Del Castillo and Eugenio Derbez. Great movie. I showed it three times today and cried every single time. My students enjoyed it as well. We could all relate to the border crossing stories and the hardships that undocumented workers face in the U.S.
I am very grateful for the people who help me along the way. Today, I am especially grateful to Esperanza from The Office of International Programs, Jose, my thesis committee chair, Dr. PAM, English department head, and Dean Guerra. They all worked together to get me a letter I needed for my trip.
As I watched "Under the Same Moon," I thought about all the people we encounter each day who are down on their luck. Maybe they haven't bathed in a while. Maybe they're here looking for a better life. Maybe they haven't seen their loved ones in years. I think a good habit to develop is charity/love/compassion. Purposefully practice it until it becomes a part of our nature. 21 days.
xoxo
Myra
Thursday, May 13, 2010
I hear birds chirping in the dark...
I took my last antibiotic pill last night and I thought I would magically be all better this morning. I used five tissues to clear the snot from just my right nostril! Did I make you go ewww? Well, laying aside all etiquette (and grabbing hold of some clichés!) as a writer I have to be willing to make my reader cringe. :D
I don't want to be all negative-- I am feeling better over all.
I finished my work for the Spring semester close to 1 am last night. I collapsed in an achy heap on my bed and woke up five hours later. I'm looking forward to seeing my students and co-workers after being gone for two days from Donna High School.
Congratulations to my friend Becky for passing her last teacher exam, the PPR. WOOT! WOOT!
I need to get the boxes ready with the books I'm sending to London... where does the time go? (clichés running rampart!!! writers beware!!)
xoxo
Myra
I don't want to be all negative-- I am feeling better over all.
I finished my work for the Spring semester close to 1 am last night. I collapsed in an achy heap on my bed and woke up five hours later. I'm looking forward to seeing my students and co-workers after being gone for two days from Donna High School.
Congratulations to my friend Becky for passing her last teacher exam, the PPR. WOOT! WOOT!
I need to get the boxes ready with the books I'm sending to London... where does the time go? (clichés running rampart!!! writers beware!!)
xoxo
Myra
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
23 DAYS!
It's 5:46 am and I can't sleep because I'm coughing. I started feeling ill on Sunday, and found out from a doctor on Monday that I have bronchitis. Not the best timing in the world! Ironically, I had been thanking my lucky stars that I hadn't been sick all this semester. My first semester teaching was a doozie (someone mentioned I had to be aclimatized to student germs.)
I had perfect attendance all school year, but unfortunately had to call in sick two days this week. BIG BOOOOO... I've been trying to get rest, but I have so much work to do that it's been difficult to allow myself to recuperate. Today I should finish with another class, so that will aleviate some of the burden.
I'm meeting with the Office of International Programs today to fill out some paperwork for my trip. I'm also hoping to meet with two of the professors on my thesis committee (not sure if they'll be on campus.)
I broke my netbook yesterday. I didn't realize how fragile they are. I've literally kicked my macbook off my bed and cringed as it hit the wall and fell on the floor (several times) and it still works perfectly. The netbook slipped from my hands on carpet and the lcd screen spiderwebbed. $325 down the drain! I've been given some hope it can be repaired, but even then it'll cost about $100 to replace the screen. Yesterday was not a good day.
I've signed up for the minimester (Chicano/Chicana Poetry). A few years ago I took a political science class as a minimester. I remember it being tough keeping up. I've already ordered my books on Amazon.com, but I'm not sure they'll get here on time. The class runs from May 17 until June 4th and AFTER I got confirmation of my order I notice shipping date could be as late as June 1st. waaahhh. Emmy said she'd have the books on reserve at the library just in case.
I feel like I'm running out of time! Just a little over 3 weeks before I leave and I have to officially finish this spring semester at UTPA, close out the school year at Donna High School, do the minimester at UTPA and get ready for the trip. I have a feeling I'll be rushing the next 23 days.
I decided to mail myself my books (my reading list for my thesis). A lot of them are chicano literature, so they won't be available in the UK. I did find out however that a library in Essex County has a Junot Diaz book (woot! Thanks to the Sheridan Family for trying to get my books for me so I don't have to lug them around as I travel!) My books are weighing in at at about 24 lbs and I've decided to ship my broken netbook as well to try and get it repaired over there. If it can't be repaired, I'll have to buy a new one.
I've received The Globe tickets for my Macbeth Study Day (with experts British University professors!) and for the midnight performance of "A Midsummer's Night Dream". Still waiting for tickets to the actual Macbeth performance. I hope my parents didn't throw them away by mistake. My dad had already opened the "Midsummer" tickets by mistake and my mother yelled at him. teehee...
Okay, it's 6:02 am and time to get my day started. Want to get decent parking at UTPA.
xoxo
Myra
I had perfect attendance all school year, but unfortunately had to call in sick two days this week. BIG BOOOOO... I've been trying to get rest, but I have so much work to do that it's been difficult to allow myself to recuperate. Today I should finish with another class, so that will aleviate some of the burden.
I'm meeting with the Office of International Programs today to fill out some paperwork for my trip. I'm also hoping to meet with two of the professors on my thesis committee (not sure if they'll be on campus.)
I broke my netbook yesterday. I didn't realize how fragile they are. I've literally kicked my macbook off my bed and cringed as it hit the wall and fell on the floor (several times) and it still works perfectly. The netbook slipped from my hands on carpet and the lcd screen spiderwebbed. $325 down the drain! I've been given some hope it can be repaired, but even then it'll cost about $100 to replace the screen. Yesterday was not a good day.
I've signed up for the minimester (Chicano/Chicana Poetry). A few years ago I took a political science class as a minimester. I remember it being tough keeping up. I've already ordered my books on Amazon.com, but I'm not sure they'll get here on time. The class runs from May 17 until June 4th and AFTER I got confirmation of my order I notice shipping date could be as late as June 1st. waaahhh. Emmy said she'd have the books on reserve at the library just in case.
I feel like I'm running out of time! Just a little over 3 weeks before I leave and I have to officially finish this spring semester at UTPA, close out the school year at Donna High School, do the minimester at UTPA and get ready for the trip. I have a feeling I'll be rushing the next 23 days.
I decided to mail myself my books (my reading list for my thesis). A lot of them are chicano literature, so they won't be available in the UK. I did find out however that a library in Essex County has a Junot Diaz book (woot! Thanks to the Sheridan Family for trying to get my books for me so I don't have to lug them around as I travel!) My books are weighing in at at about 24 lbs and I've decided to ship my broken netbook as well to try and get it repaired over there. If it can't be repaired, I'll have to buy a new one.
I've received The Globe tickets for my Macbeth Study Day (with experts British University professors!) and for the midnight performance of "A Midsummer's Night Dream". Still waiting for tickets to the actual Macbeth performance. I hope my parents didn't throw them away by mistake. My dad had already opened the "Midsummer" tickets by mistake and my mother yelled at him. teehee...
Okay, it's 6:02 am and time to get my day started. Want to get decent parking at UTPA.
xoxo
Myra
Sunday, May 9, 2010
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