Not even if I do the voices?

Me: We have a long car ride. We should read a book.
Madre: You should read Twilight to them.
Me: YES. It will be hilarious for them to share in my misery.

...

Me: Ams, you know what we should read out loud on our Thanksgiving drive?
Ams: We are not reading Twilight out loud.
Me: What? I would never...How did you know?
Ams: Because I thought of the most evil thing you could do.

"Twilight is a sham."
Kirie Fernidad, not a Twilight fan

Flute wars 2009 part one

Fact: I love Christmas.


I still have 6 days and two projects to go until my quarter is complete. I have been listening to Christmas music to keep myself motivated. But the music makes me think about Christmas. Which makes me think of Christmas presents. Which makes me think of Flute Wars.

It was not long ago when Ams and I realized we both play the flute. Around that time, the madre let us know she wants a video of us playing Rock Band for Christmas.

The madre likes to request Christmas gifts which are free.

But I decided to step it up a notch. Why record fake music playing when we actually play instruments?

And so Flute Wars was born. We are filing a niche market. Giving people what most holiday music lacks: dueling flutes.

I've already become obsessed.

I've already practiced. And I guarantee if I can hear yell singer, then she can hear me caroling away on my flute a week before Thanksgiving. And did you know that you can purchase sheet music online? You can. And I have.

I have two words for you: Amy. Grant.

Don't even hate. Seriously. My love of Christmas directly relates to my love of my grandma. That woman was Christmas shopping for the next year the day after Christmas. Hence why we received gifts the Christmas after she passed away. It was like she was still there. It is like she is still here now. Every Christmas.

And yes, I had to go to that place. Because you were about to make fun of me about Amy Grant.

Flute Wars is happening. Anyone in the Chicago area who plays an instrument can get in on this. I'm like the Jay-Z of holiday CD's. Everyone can cameo.

Stay tuned. Regardless of whether the compilation rocks with bells on or if it is a CD only a mother could love...I will be sure to share highlights. What can I say, I'm a giver.

"The flute is not an instrument that has a good moral effect; it is too exciting."
Aristotle

When I read you like this, and I fold you like that, it's so hard to believe, but the meaning's all coming back to me now

I vaguely remember reading House on Mango Street when I was younger. I don't recall whether it was for school or for fun. I don't sense that I gleaned any mystical meaning from it. It was just another book. Another book in a long trail I have left behind me my entire life.

Don't get me wrong, I have a great affinity for Latino culture and lit. When my fam lived in Texas it took about two seconds before I was walking around yell singing O pueblecito de Belen at the holidays and The Ballad of the Alamo the rest of the time.

But Mango Street has always been filed in my mind as just a book. I didn't get all the hullabaloo. Just as with most things though, it was bad timing.

Years later, my college experience coincided with the world realizing Latino lit. Just like American Indian and Asian before it, Latino lit had been championed. By that time I had long since put Ana Castillo's So Far From God on my favorites list. I said, "Bring on Chicano Literature, viva la revolucion!"

All this was priming me for my second Mango Street reading.

Now, years later AGAIN, when I read this lovely subset of lit I get all nostalgic. Even more clearly now, I appreciate the way the accessible language allows the reader greater access to meaning. I appreciate the real quality even surreal events have. For Mango Street specifically, the first time through I completely bypassed or possibly didn't care about the themes which run throughout: ideas of home, finding yourself, and ultimately realizing that yourself was there all the time and it is actually in that place called home.

I closed the book and articulated stated, "wow."

That's my English Literature degree speaking.

All these years of meandering in between reads. I'm finally ready to hear what Mango Street had to say.

"Mango says goodbye sometimes. She does not hold me with both arms. She sets me free."
Sandra Cisneros

Yell singer is my dj

My neighbor, yell singer of Carrie Underwood, has switched songs.

She has switched to Don Henley, The Boys of Summer.

I might be in love with her.

I LOVE this song. I mean, do I have a love affair with morose songs in general? Yes. But this? I loved this song in my youth. Before I really knew what it meant. It is morose and historically poignant. This is one of those songs I get the urge to listen to every once in a while when I say...hey...remember that song with the beach and the jumping guys? I love that song.

Oh wait, hold the phone, Carrie's back.

Girlfriend needs to get over it. Perhaps I will battle her with Henley's Heart of the Matter.

I can yell sing too you know.

Henley point one: "Don't look back, you can never look back, I thought I knew what love was, what did I know, those days are gone forever, I should just let them go"
Henley point two: "I lost me and you lost you...I'm learning to live without you now, but I miss you sometimes...I think it's about forgiveness, even if, even if you don't love me anymore"

It's all jokes until someone gets stuck in the burbs

This past weekend I did something new.

I traveled to the burbs.

Those who discuss Chicago travel with me know that the highway which surrounds the city is my moat. I do not cross it.

However, someone knows my weakness for all things Paula Dean. She tempted me with corn fritters. She also knows my love for her. She combined the two via Turkeypalouza 2009.

However, just to let everyone know, Glencoe, IL is FAR away from me. I had to get there in stages. First I hopped on the El to Evanston, studying all the way. I took a break there, meeting Ams and Face for lunch and football. I like to think of it as prepping my stomach.


Then I bravely continued on. Up into the nether regions of...Chicagoland. I was met by a cacophony of kitchen activity.


Did I help with the meal? Obviously. I got the hostess wine. I poured wine, and she welcomed me to eat at her table.


And eat we did.


But then it all went terribly wrong.

A pipe burst. And so we mopped and mopped and mopped water. It is amazing how many mops she had. The cacophony was now in the basement.

But then I had to leave everyone. Because this city mouse couldn't miss the last train back. I ran to the station. And I waited. And waited. And waited. And then I called the madre because in the burbs? There are NOISES.

I needed to be saved. It was cold and dark and there were no people. After speaking to Face and Ams, it became apparent that I had mis-read the train schedule.

Luckily, they drove up from Evanston, swooped me up in Ams' Megabunny and brought me back to city safety.

But not before they took a pathetic, lost city mouse picture.


And that's when I sang - a Capella - I can fly higher than an eagle, but Ams/Face/Megabunny are the wind beneath myyy wiiiiiings.

"You aren't afraid of camping. You aren't afraid of the city. But you are afraid of the suburbs?"
Face

I could literally see the wheels of opprobrium turning in her mind

On Friday, I went to see a dramatic reading of Margaret Atwood's new novel, The Year of the Flood. It was basically a live book preview. With music. And when I say music I mean hymns. It was interesting, and definitely made me excited to read the novel...but what I really wanted was to just listen to Atwood speak.

But that isn't the story...


The show started late. So like a proper little student / person obsessed with reading, I whipped out a book. A SCHOOL book might I add. The book is actually a graphic novel. One that cost me 40 cents in library fines. Alison Bechdel's, Funny Home: A Family Tragicomic is what I was reading.

Just to let you know, amongst other things, the story entails a young woman's realization of and foray into lesbianism.

On my left was a couple. I could read the woman's thoughts. First, she upbraided me with her eyes for reading a comic. Don't I know those are for kids? But then, something awesome happened. I turned the page and staring back at me were naked female bodies engaging in exploratory activities. This blew the woman's mind because now it was obvious I was reading a pornographic comic.

I hope that taught her not to be nosy.

But just as I was feeling a pang of doubt as to the propriety of flashing naked pictures around in public, couple two saved me.

The woman of the second couple was also interested in my reading material. Instead of boring a hole in my book with her hate stares, however, she excitedly said, "Oh, are you reading Alison Bechdel?"

After responding in the affirmative and small chit chat, she recommended I read Dykes to Watch Our For, Bechdel's comic strip. Immediately I wanted to ask this awesome and open minded woman to be my friend. But there came propriety again.

Are you allowed to ask a woman you don't know to be your friend directly after discussing lesbianism?

Basically, I was sitting in the middle of the young adult graphic novel debate. On the one side was opprobrium and so-called propriety. On the other, acceptance and excitement.

I think we know which side I'm on.

"But mostly, it's a book about my relationship with my father."
Alison Bechdel

I grok fullness

While I love fiction, I also like to dabble in the fantasy and science fiction genres.

Growing up moving around the country in a car meant my family had a lot of time for readathons. We were in the car so much we were able to read Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series out loud.


If you need surmising help...we were in the car A LOT.

Then, of course there were the consecutive years Face gave me Dune for Christmas until I read it. If you don't think the following is funny/awesome then you haven't read Dune.


So stop here and go read Dune.

My most recent foray into science fiction has been Stranger in a Strange Land. I have previously called it the book about martians. Both Dune and Stranger as science fiction are able to not only comment on our society but to offer an alternative process and philosophy. If you don't dig science fiction I would say these two books are engaging in similar activities such as Rand's Atlas Shrugged.

So there is this martian. Only he is a human who happened to be raised on Mars. And now he is back on Earth. Causing a raucous. For martians, there is this thing called grokking. Generally it could be translated as to know...only more so. To grok is to drink.

Stick with me.

So you can grok ideas. Or places. Or people. Well now we are getting somewhere. So the martian is rolling around grokking all over the place and starts to open people's eyes to this new way of thinking. Through the book Heinlein opens the reader's eyes to their own notions of propriety and the structure of society. If you ever wanted religion (read spirituality) and sex to do a mashup you should read this book. I am God. You are God. Orgies are God.

You grok that?

"A prude is a person who thinks his own rules of propriety are natural laws."
Robert Heinlein