La Vida Buena Está Aquí

I had previously thought that I'd try to blog about my days in Mexico at the end of everyday in Mexico. So much for promises to myself that I never intended to keep.

I find that even though I left three and a half days ago that I'm still having a hard time crystallizing my thoughts about my experience there. I love it in Mexico; it is forever a part of me now and I know that I will go back. Maybe more than the country is the experience. Our group had shirts that read, "Solamenete una vida que se vive para otros es una vida que vale la pena." Only a life lived for others is a life worth living.

I didn't agree with that statement upon first glance, but upon further introspection, I just didn't understand it. I didn't know what it could be like to worry and work for others. To not worry about how I would get my food, but how another family would get theirs became my focal point. To not worry about my toys or my sidewalks or my playtime or my enjoyment, but somebody else's... I never lived that 24 hours a day. I want it back.

Christmas is a little less magical for me right now. I'm a little more observant, pensive, and grateful. And at the same time, I worry about how much money was spent on me when such money could be spent on the people and orphans in Mexico. Every dollar to me is ten pesos that could have gone to them.

There are so many things in my heart that I cannot write, and should not because they've become sacred. But I will share this.

On our last day in Mexico, we went to the market and the beach. I was bitching from the beginning of the day. There were still things to be done and kits to be handed out. I hated the market. I hated buying things for myself and my family, and I hated the souvenirs. I left as soon as I'd dropped sixty bucks. A friend and I wandered the streets for the remaining two hours, trying to desperately capture the last minutes we had in this different culture.

When we went to the beach later that day, I thought about the day before, when we'd gone shopping for a lady that lived in a 10 by 8 foot shack with walls of cardboard and tin and a leaky tin roof. All of her possessions had been stolen and she and her husband and 4 children lived in this "home." The only food they had were about 8 oranges. Everyone in our van donated at least 20 dollars and we spent almost 200 at the store buying food, blankets, diapers, clothes, and cots, because they'd been sleeping on box springs. Shopping that day was just.... better.

As I stood in the surf and watched the sun go down, I knew that I had been so annoyed earlier at the market because I was buying things for people who didn't really need them. I spent money on myself, instead of those who truly needed it.

When I related this experience to my dad, I cried - a lot. I didn't cry at all in Guaymas, but coming home reminded me of what I missed there. He told me about a time when he was in San Carlos, a town not far from Guaymas. He met an old fisherman and my dad asked if he'd ever dreampt about going to the U.S. for something more. The old man smiled and shook his head. He said that he'd been here, and he'd met our people. And then he said, "La vida buena está aquí." The good life is here.

I was blessed in Mexico with a glimpse - a glimpse at what life should really be like. I don't know how I'll go back to everything in Cedar that awaits me. I don't want to.

I found a new fulfillment in Mexico. I may have even found God again in Mexico. Mexico is the best Christmas present I've ever been given, and I hope that I change because of it.

Hasta Nunca: Mexico Part Dos

So, second post for the day. Although I had to finish up work this morning and was unable to follow the schedule everyone else was on, today was a great day. Definitely better than yesterday – but not in a bad way. During the daytime, we “work” for eight hours in various places. We can choose from a soup kitchen called Chewy’s, an orphanage, an elementary school, or water collection for scientific testing (which really means we go to areas outside of Guaymas and check water for bacteria and Ecoli). Since I didn’t go anywhere this morning, my choice was made for me in the afternoon – the orphanage.

The orphanage is just outside the city limits of Guaymas near a harbor, but it’s not the picturesque beach in Mexico – it smells real bad. The orphanage is run by Catholic nuns and actually is quite quaint. The kids have a nice little courtyard and a playground, and everything is really really clean considering their surroundings.

We do different things there. Breaking into little groups, I headed for the playground. Today’s project was digging a better hole for the new trampoline we were going to assemble. The hole needed to be quite large and they didn’t have wheelbarrows, so we had to shovel dirt into ten gallon buckets and haul it to the edge of the playground, bucket by bucket. The children were so willing to help. They shoveled dirt and generally kept us entertained. There was definite excitement in the air as the other groups finished and came to watch us put together the trampoline. We had to keep grabbing kids off of the frame because they were trying to get on before we were done. If any of you have put together a trampoline before, you know it’s tough business. Lots of pulling and stretching.

The tension finally reached the ultimate threshold as the last spring was connected and the kids cheered and scrambled on. I have never seen kids that happy before. They laughed and bounced and it was just so wonderful.

I’d like to think I’m making a difference by being here. Maybe I’m not to them. They probably won’t even remember me. But they are making a difference to me and I’ll always remember them.

The good thing about a group our size, about 50, is that there was basically one kid to every American. Mine is name Aleah. She’s seis and so full of life. She was hanging onto someone else while I was digging, but as I clambered out of the hole in my pink hiking skirt, she had her hands stretched out for me. She held onto my neck and nuzzled me. It was really hard to hold her when she was trying to escape to the unfinished trampoline, but as soon as we had it in the ground, she was on it. She kept coming back to me, wanting me to bounce with her. I don’t think the leaders really wanted us on the trampoline with the kids, but we’ve established that I don’t really have an affinity for listening to them. Three of us big kids got on with the ninos and had a blast. Aleah’s laugh was intoxicating. I don’t know the last time I’ve had that much fun. Playing with the kids, shoveling the dirt, avoiding the frogs – none of it felt like work. Everything we do is for someone else. I’ve never lived my life like that. A life like that is just….better.

We bounced for a good half hour before we had to leave. We said hasta luego y adios y hasta manana. We will really be back tomorrow, but it kind of felt like a lie because we won’t be able to come back in a few days. Even one of the girls retorted Hasta Nunca! And I know that she meant it.

While we’re here, I’m going to make the most of it though.

We went to the beach after the orphanage, which was great, but I’d have rather been at the orphanage. I can’t wait to go back tomorrow and see the kids again. They are such wonderful little people and even though they’re orphans, I really think they’re some of the happiest kids I’ve ever met.

This will keep me safe from the hot, Mexican sun.

Okay. Today isn't necessarily my first day in Mexico, but it's the day I'm writing about my first day here. Yesterday was amazing, but definitely not what I expected. I know that I came down here to do service, but I think I was too busy this semester to process what coming here would exactly entail. Oh. And would just like to mention/gloat that I'm sitting in the shade because sitting directly in the sun is a little too warm.

To start off the day, we went to church. I will avoid venting about how the leaders only knew where an L.D.S. church was or that even though I thousands of miles away from Utah, that it was still somewhat of a social obligation to attend church. I am glad, however, that I went. I do love going to church - anywhere - but here, it is much different. There were only about fifteen members and the Bishop was the only person on the stand. When our entire group walked in, we quadrupled the size of the congregation. What was the most neat part of sacrament, aside from obviously being in Spanish, is that these people have a completely different kind of testimony than what I usually see and hear. They are humble and they sacrifice greatly to be members. Everyone works here, and to attend church, these people probably miss out on money for their living, but they come anyway. Their love for the gospel is so simple, but so strong and real. The Spirit is able to transcend language barriers and testify of their love, the love of God, and the abundance of truth. I will take church in Mexico any day. (The only "weird" part about church is when two completely separate groups of students from SUU came to church - apparently they're here job-shadowing in the medical fields. We were all quite surprised to see each other.)

I checked out of church after sacrament because I actually have to work while I'm here (not something I like to do even when I'm in the U.S.). So I headed back and was promptly asked to help the leaders. Another member of the group and I wen to "Ley" - the Mexican, more crowded and disorganized version of a ghetto Wal-Mart - to buy milk, ice, and cream cheese. This was quite the experience. Ley is located in a mall-type situation. People are absolutely everywhere. Everyone here is always waiting. (I'll take pictures to prove this, but I left my cord at home.) Around the actual store are all these little vendors selling food and clothes. I will pause this narrative to say that I had the most amazing carne asada tacos for 17 pesos (roughly $1.70) at the store. I love Mexican food -REAL Mexican food.

Anyhoo, Ley was so lively. There were Flamenco dancers right outside the store and people were yelling in to microphones about pollo, carne, jamon, frioles, y marisocles, but other than that, it was another Wal-Mart. When we finally checked out, a boy about seven bagged our groceries. The other group member and I asked the check out lady and she said that he doesn't actually get paid - he only gets tips from people as he bags their groceries. My heart broke a little. This little boy should have been out playing soccer with his friends, but he was bagging groceries, working, like he'll be working for the rest of his life.

Lunch. Lunch was lame. I did not come to Mexico to eat Doritos, snack-packs, and chicken salad sandwiches. I'm going to a vendor for lunch today.

The highlight of the day was when brought hygiene kits to an impoverished neighborhood in Inpendencia. Most of the houses were made from scrap wood, cardboard, and one was even made from the bottoms and tops of barrels. The kits had blankets, food, soap, towels, toothbrushes, and the like in them. One of the families we brought it to was being raised by an 11 girl. She had a 7 year-old brother, a 3 year-old sister, and another infant sister. We couldn't really figure out if there actually was a mother present or just working, but the little girl raises this family. Another family was comprised of two 15 year-old parents and a 3 month old baby. 

As we were taking the kits around, families, mostly kids were flocking to us because we were handing out necessities and some toys. The problem is that we only had a limited supply of things, and we'd promised goods to families already. Leaving the kids behind who weren't quick enough to get a toy was heart-breaking. I started taking food out of our treat bags and handing that out. I was told not to by a leader because "that was all we had for the trip home." Really? That's all we have for the trip home? Good thing I brought my debit card. I started steathily handing out treats at a faster rate after that.

The best part about this highlight was when we played soccer with the neighborhood kids for an hour or so. These kids are amazing, probably because it's all they do all day, but they kicked our trash! It was the Americans versus the Mexican ninos and it was so much fun! Playing games with them better than handing out food. It was much more memorable.

What little Spanish I do know is very handy. I find that I know more than I thought I did and that communicating with the people is wonderful. I thought they would be sad - missing out on iPods, clean food, clean streets, and the like, but they are so happy and so patient with me and my crappy Spanish. Especially the kids. When we were playing soccer, Luis, a little boy I snuck some ChexMix to, handed me a tiny package of candy. He told me it was for me for being there. I don't think I'm going to eat the candy. When it came time to leave, they asked if we were going to come back as we were leaving yesterday. I don't think that any of us had the heart to tell them no.

We had to leave shortly before dark. That's what the Police Officers told us. They were with our group for our protection, but I never really felt unsafe. That is until we heard two gunshots from the street last night. I do love Mexico though!

We did lots more yesterday, but I don't want to keep writing and missing out on experiences. Hasta luego!

Finalmente!

I'm done. I done? I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I am done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done! I'm done!I'm done! I AM DONE.

I am the official holder of a Bachelor of Arts degree in English. I have worked for four and a half years. I turned in my last undergrad paper today (on why Wonder Woman should NOT be a feminist icon) and I am done. Graduated. Finished. Accomplished. Done.

I even bought myself a graduation ice cream cone from Grandee's - double scoop.

I'm done. Now I'm going to Mexico for eight days. I'll be sure to chronicle my adventures.

I'm done.

Free Advice*

I've always found choosing concert-going items a tricky business. Should I take my purse? No. I don't want to hold it whilst jostling about in the pit. Perhaps I should cart along some chapstick? Yes, yes. I must. Don't want to get chappy, unkissable, dry lips. Should I take my camera? Maybe. But, only if the shirt I'm wearing can support and conceal that much extra weight in my bra.

I usually settle on the bare minimum when going to a concert. In my pocket, I've generally got a chapstick, anywhere from 20 to 60 bucks (depending I how many t-shirts or waters I will purchase), and a single key for my car in case I lose my entire ring of keys. I don't even take a cell phone for fear of losing it or having it crushed by the mass amounts of bodies in the pit.

When I ventured out in 20 degree weather without a jacket on Saturday night to see Anberlin, Mae, and Motion City Soundtrack, I had four items in my right-cheek pocket: one tube of chapstick, three 20 dollar bills, one car key, and one ticket. When my brother (we were there because I was taking him to his first moshing type concert for his birthday), his friend, and I arrived winded and freezing after three and a half blocks of brisk walking at In the Venue, the only items I had in my right-cheek pocket were as follows: one tube of chapstick, three 20 dollar bills, one car key, and pocket lint. There was no concert ticket to be found - anywhere.

Somewhere in the three and a half blocks to the venue, either I'd lost the ticket or it had been stolen from me. We basically ran back to the car, but found no ticket. All my fastidious planning was for naught because I wasn't able to see one of my top three favorite bands.

Although I had money, the concert was sold out. I dropped my brother and his friend off, gave Jimmy the money I hadn't lost, and told them to call me when the concert was over so that I could come get them.

*This is where the free advice comes in. Will Call. Always Will Call your tickets people - ALWAYS! Your tickets will be waiting for you when you get there. Then you won't have to spend two and a half hours at the stupid Gateway mall (okay, it's not that stupid, I'm just real bitter) walking in (or out really) an outdoor mall, freezing. You won't be by yourself not looking cute because you got ready to go to a concert, not to go to the mall, and you won't get sneered at by high and mighty Forever 21 employees because, let's face it, you look like crap. You won't spend time by yourself cursing the Gods that you've become the type of person that buys a book in Barnes & Noble and then immediately reads it while still in Barnes & Noble. You won't be by yourself because your friends that live in Salt Lake would probably be home and would be able to entertain, console, and/or feed you. You won't be stuck not going to a movie because they all started at the wrong times or because you don't want to see another holiday family film, like The Santa Clause 37: Rudolph's Bastard Brother, Gary the Green Nosed Reindeer.

You also won't have to hear about how your litte brother went crowd surfing for the first time or about how you weren't there to see it, or how you didn't even get to boost him up.

You also won't have a sweatshirt from a concert that you didn't actually go to.

Will Call people. It's the only way to go. Take this advice. Love it. Cherish it. And for all that is holy in music's sake, don't lose your freaking ticket on the way to the venue.

Hurt

Auden had always considered herself a good friend, the kind of friend that could listen and process, and be trusted. That’s why she sat and looked at him patiently, waiting while he searched for words.

Darnell’s picture of himself resembled a puzzle, the kind of puzzle that had fall colored trees and endless blue sky. Putting together that kind of puzzle takes patience and a keen eye. People don’t generally have time to put Darnell together. That’s why he fidgeted and looked away as her green eyes patiently waited.

“Everyone I know goes away in the end.”

The chair he was sitting on made him look like a child. The arms came up past his chest and the head of the chair was at least two inches above Darnell’s head.

As he began, his eyes were locked onto the stain on the edge of the arm of the chair. “My dad left me a letter before he left for good. I found it before my mom did, that’s probably why I still have it. I keep it in a box with dirt samples. I thought it would be one of the last places my mom would ever find it. I don’t really remember him. I don’t have any pictures. It’s like he’s dead, like she killed him when she burned the pictures. I only have the letter. ”

The couch creaked as Auden adjusted. She had the distinct feeling that he was telling her something he had never told anyone. She had thought it was strange that he began referring to her as his best friend shortly after they met, but now it occurred to her that no one had ever listened to him before.

“I’ve read that letter down almost past repair – the ink is so faded. I know what it says though. It says I should find someone I can call my sweetheart. It’s funny he’d say that. I think he hated my mom.” He looked up suddenly and met her gaze for the first time that night. “I’ve never told anyone about that letter before.”

***

The music was loud - the kind of loud that went into Auden’s head and pushed out any other thought so that the music became the only thing that was real. Her keen eyes kept jerking back to the entrance of the bar, searching for Darnell. He’d been gone for a week. She hadn’t gone that long without seeing him since they met. She liked knowing that she had a best friend that cared about her they way Darnell did.

She didn’t know if he’d find her in the crowd; she didn't feel safe standing there without him. Ten minutes after the set started, she felt a familiar hand on her back. Darnell was the only one she let touch her back that way. She turned and saw his beaming face. She made the mistake of believing his smile was for her, because he'd missed her.

They listened to a few songs. Swaying to and singing the lyrics they barely knew, Auden realized that having Darnell around was like being home. A few beers made Darnell realized that few people saw him like Auden did – maybe no one else could see him like Auden did.

“Auden. Auden!” He was used to stating things matter of factly, but he had to yell to be heard. His face kept bashing into the braid running around her head as he shouted into her ear.
She looked away from the band and smiled at his face.

“I’m gonna marry her!” His smile grew. Auden’s grin didn’t disappear right away, but as her eyes swelled wider, there was less room on her face for a smile.

“Bella! I’m going to marry Bella!”

“I know who you’re talking about!” Her voice was rarely so flat. Darnell forgot that Auden’s flat voice meant she was trying not to cry, that a flat voice meant her heart was falling down.

“I decided while we were gone to her family’s house!” Darnell saw her face flash in the lights from stage. “Wait! You like her, right?!”

“Yes! I do!”

“You’re my best friend Auden! Will you help me pick out the ring?!” He yelled this in her ear and as he got closer to her head, a bobby-pin stuck out from her head and scratched his face. Darnell barely noticed.

She pulled back from him and paused. She knew she had already lost her most trusted friend.

Her voice remained flat and she pushed his hand away from her arm. “If that’s want you want I’ll go! But you should know, you can have it all! Is she the one that’s going to help you do that?! You’re my sweetest friend….just….” Her voice faltered as the music grew louder. It was probably better that way

“God, why did you have to tell me here?! My thoughts are too broken here!” Auden had been looking elsewhere for help, the crowd, the walls, the bottle of beer in her hand. She hadn’t seen his face lose all expression. She hadn’t seen him put down a five and pick up his coat. Darnell had made the mistake of thinking she would tell him what he wanted to hear.

She grabbed his arm and the words came out before she could stop them. “Is she your sweetheart?! Can you call her that?!”

Her voice regained emotion as she yelled after him. “Wait! Wait! Let me start again!”

***

Bella sat on the tie-rug on the hardwood floor in the living room. She pulled documents out of a box. She rearranged things and filed them in a large cabinet they kept in the corner of the room. Sometimes she filed things by dates, then she’d take everything out when she found a new box and file them using another system. She liked to start again. The process gave her purpose, so boxes were piled around her and cabinet drawers were flung open.

Darnell walked in the front door. He wasn’t surprised to see the state of the living room. As he pulled off his boots, he said “I hurt myself today.”

She looked up in alarm. “Why would you do something like that?!” She tended to end questions with too much emphasis. Darnell felt intruded upon and guilty when she asked questions, even when she was only asking him to pass the salt.

“God. No. I didn’t do it on purpose, Bella. I was giving a shot to a cow and the needle got away from me. It tore a hole through my jeans and went into my leg.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Yeah. I guess it mostly stung. I usually pay more attention than that.”

Darnell sat down in the only chair that was available. “We should get rid of this thing. It’s got stains and no one fits in it right.” He spoke absentmindedly and fingered the ring on his left hand. His eyes perused the boxes on the ground.

“Where the hell did you find that box?!” By the time Bella looked up, Darnell was already moving to a box labeled “Private: Dirt Samples.”

“I guess you couldn’t read the part that said ‘Private!’” Darnell picked up the box as he spoke and treated it gently, as though the box contained sacred artifacts.

The whole episode looked odd to Bella. At first, she didn’t say anything as she continued to sit on the floor. While Darnell walked back to the chair with the box, she said, “I found a note in there. It looks like time has made the words disappear.”

A flash of anger began to race through Darnell, but he decided to calm himself instead of rage at her. It wasn’t her fault he’d chosen the ground beneath their bed for a hiding nook.

“Who wrote that note? It looks well read.”

“My dad.”

“What does it say? I couldn’t make out some of the words.”

“He gave me advice on life. Mostly about the woman I’d marry. He wanted me to find my sweetheart. I found it right after he left”

She had this way of looking at him that made him feel like he was looking at a puppy that was waiting for praise from it’s master. “Oh,” she said dreamily, “Oh. I see.”

“Yeah. My mom didn’t even know about it.”

She looked up again, intrigued by the revelation. “You mean, I’m the first person you’ve told about it?”

Can Childrens Really Learn?

To add a second blog to the day.



Why didn't I have this when I ranted about Al freaking Gore?

Paralyzed

Fall - to descend freely by the force of gravity; to leave an erect position suddenly and involuntarily ; to drop down wounded or dead; to enter as if unawares. Synonyms include stumble, stray, devolve, or break down.

For all the dreaded defining, falling has an interesting element involved. There can either be a surreal feeling of weightlessness that comes before the impact, this moment that can be sublimely euphoric or a moment that can paralyze one in fear. Falling onto fluffy pillows is much nicer than falling on asphalt, or falling and finding nothing to stop the fall.

I experienced the kind of fall that causes paralysis. Many things contributed to my catatonic state, but it started with falling in love - the kind of falling that causes euphoria. When the euphoria ran out, I felt like I'd lost some of the surest footing I'd ever been on. I traded concrete for mist.

I don't think I've ever regained that footing. I think for the past year, I've been paralyzed.

A euphoric state has been known to cause one to look past vulnerability and search for trust - to trade reason for comfort, and independence for companionship. I traded those things, but perhaps it wasn't the right situation for me to do so. We weren't committed to the same things in a relationship. We both ended up getting hurt and I ended up feeling used instead of loved.

Being paralyzed has caused me to feel loneliness to almost to the breaking point, but no more. I'm tired of this. It's done. I'm okay with saying that I need things, even though saying that makes me more vulnerable. I do need to feel loved and appreciated and wanted. I'm finished being angry and displacing that anger on people who and institutions that don't deserve it. I'm done being cynical, judgmental, and scared.

Love should have made me feel differently than this. I shouldn't have had to learn these things from in the aftermath, from the hard way. My resolution is that these things had to be learned somehow.

I'm ready to feel again, even if that means getting hurt another time, because I'll be feeling. I'm ready to be optimistic about what my future has in store for me, instead of worrying about what other people's futures have in store for me.

Also, I'm changing the name of my blog. It's time.