Overload

I was planning a trip to visit my sister in DC for next weekend..a good few days of doing girl things like shopping and dying my hair..going out for take out and bonding with my sister before she moves. But. I forgot i'm no longer an undergrad and despite having 6 days off from school that week..i can't afford to leave town for a mini-vacation. Unfortunately I'm about to start midterms...and that means, papers, exams, presentations and even more reading than usual.

I've managed to piss away my friday and am now trying to spend a good 3 hours getting through my reading but i hate romanticism and these texts are draining the life out of me. No joke. Not only do i hate romanticism, but i can't stand Sarmiento's Facundo that goes on and on about civilization and brutality...Oh well.

But what gets me through missing my family (and their birthdays), all the reading and writing, the frustration of living in a different place is knowing that i'm in graduate school...studying spanish literature..no matter how much i hate this genre, i can't believe it. And my heart skips a beat. I love it. and i'm completely thrilled about it!

I hope to update this blog with a post that has more substance to it soon. maybe after the weekend...

If I thought...

That I had no life before, I can certainly kiss good bye any hopes for gaining a life while in Boston.

It's 10 pm on a friday night and I'm sitting on the couch doing my readings for the coming week. I'm rocking this graduate lifestyle for all its worth..and by that I mean, I'm going to spend a lot of time with my nose in my books...

All I can say is that I have no one to blame but myself. This is what i wanted. Yey!

I'm off to read more about the different states and cultures of Spain.

I've reached a new level of Elitism

Yesterday afternoon was my first day at Simmons, unofficially of course. The trip into the city wasn't too bad: 30 minute commuter rail ride into South Station, and about another 20 on the Red and Green lines. I was surprised at how close the school was to the last T stop -- just two blocks away. There exists such an exciting environment in that part of the city because there's about a million schools located around the Fenway. Simmons, Emmanuel, Harvard Med, Wentworth are just a few to name.

We arrived SO early yesterday because I couldn't remember what time the orientation started exactly. Oops. hehe. But that was okay, because it gave us a little bit of time to explore the Main Campus building, which houses the classrooms and the administrative offices. We found the bookstore after walking around in circles for a bit and I managed to find all but one of my books. I still can't believe that I had to buy 5 books for two classes. A bit more than what I'm use to having to buy for a class (ehh?? sorta) but I have to remind myself that Simmons is on the semester system and that while it may be a little slower paces, I'm sure there will be more reading materials.

After a little while we saw that the Graduate student orientation table had been set up, so we checked in, and got a very nice leather notebook/planner thingy mabob. They told us the name tags weren't ready so if we wanted to explore and come back later for it. We did.

Before going into the city, I figured I would only have time to get maybe one or two things done before my informal cocktail hour with my advisor and fellow students. I forgot that Simmons is nothing like UCLA. Brian accompanied me upstairs and waited patiently while I made line for my ID. I'm glad the picture didn't come out too bad. Not like my UCLA one where on in the middle of a hot July afternoon I had to trek up to the dorm area to take my photo. I looked HORRIBLE. At least I only had to suffer with that ID for two years. teehee. After grabbing my ID I went across the hall to the Student Finances office to make sure my finances with the school were all settled.

I couldn't help but to notice that the girl in front of me was with her mum. What caught my attention about her was the fact that when an employee of the office asked her how she could help her, the girl looked at her mom and the mum had to say, "go on, tell her whats wrong." The girl replied, "but you know what the problem is. Tell her." I also noticed that on her name tag, she was a incoming student to the MAT program. WOW. She must of been at least my age, and she still had her mom around to fight her battles? That's pretty bad. I hope she learns some good classroom management skills because otherwise she will be in trouble.

I'll be happy to say that my school finances are all in order. I was offered a book voucher, but dummy me a) didn't know what it was (obviously to buy books, but where's it come from? Who gets one? Why do you get one?) and b) had already bought my books.

After the finaid office, Brian and I sort of walked around. We still had nearly an hour to kill and had knocked three of my tasks out of way. We grabbed a bite to eat on the basement level of the building and then walked to the suite where my informal cocktail hour was to be held. When I walked by, I saw my advisor pacing about. I couldn't believe how quickly my tummy started jumping about. Instead of confidently walking into the office, I crouched on a step and plastered myself against the wall. It took a few minutes before we decided to walk in. She was in the middle of bringing some chairs into the sitting area and I offered to help, but she refused my help. Instead she offered us drinks and snacks from the fruit platters they had set up. I couldn't believe that they had wine!!! My sister told me to get use to grown up school events because they always have some booze.

The best part of the schmoozing hour was realizing that my advisor wasn't nearly as scary as I had painted her to be. She was very sweet and welcoming. It made me feel like even if everything else sucked, at least school (so far) has seemed like the right choice. And that is always always a good feeling.

I was the first of the new graduate students to arrive in our suite. When the other girls entered, I quickly realized that I was the only Latina in the bunch. I don't know if any of the current students are Latinos or not, but this could be interesting, both on a academic and social level. I hope there doesn't exist this weird insider/outsider dynamic in the group. I am also the only one from the west coast. And the youngest of the new bunch. There's actually only 4 or 5 new graduate students to the program, which is scary and a really nice change of pace. I'm looking forward to stepping up and making contributions to the department and academic field. I really can't wait to research and write amazing papers. It's a bit odd for me..I remember as an undergrad thinking that the graduate students were so wise, mature and really ppl to admire. Now I'm one of those graduate students!

I'm really looking forward to tomorrow afternoon when I'm actually in class and getting into the thick of things. I've always been fond of being a student and I couldn't be more excited that I've been lucky enough to return to my passion. Hooray!

*I'll take some pictures tomorrow around campus and the area and post when I get back from class. :D

Comida y Cultura

Family dinners are usually on reserved for special occasions, like birthdays, holidays or a celebration. Our dinners usually take place at the same table we've had since I was a little kid. Everyone has the seat assigned: Dad at the head of the table, Mum nearest to the kitchen, me seated next to her. Across from me is usually Michi or Fernando. And depending on the occasion and day, we might be joined by Carlos, Martha, Brian or even Sabrina. The concept of family dinners on a regular basis always seemed interesting to me. These dinners would be that time of day when the family spends time together talking, socializing, getting to know each other. But for our family, these meetings were as I already said, saved for special days. And I have to admit, they are always some of my fondest memories full of jokes in Spanish and English, the yummiest foods and best company.

Every year around christmas, my family will meet at the table, but this time not to eat. A few years ago, my Mum decided to start a new tradition, one to help pass on nuestra cultura. It's during this time that we all join, whether by choice or lured in by the prospect of yummy food, and begin the process of the Tamal Making. It's probably the only time that we all take part in the process of making our food, and passing on our culture.

Last Monday night, was the last of the family dinners that include me. This time the dinner was held to celebrate my acceptance into grad school and also a farewell. Like always, we swapped stories, relived memories and enjoyed each others company.

Today has been my 2nd day in Abington, a small suburb on the south shore of MA, and the homesickness that I knew I would suffer from hit me when at the grocery store, a place I least expected it to happen.

We went to a small Stop and Shop in the town over, which is probably less than a 5 minute drive. As soon as we walked into the store, I didn't know where to begin. This wasn't my usual Food 4 Less, where I could pile on the fruits and veggies and not worry about the price. What surprised me the most about my outing to the grocery store wasn't the prices or the lack of familiar food, but the feelings invoked by being around food.

Brian and I were looking at some fruits (1.99 a lb for grapes, yikes!) when he mentioned figs. All of a sudden, the images of my parents house and yard that kept haunting me the night before popped into my head. I saw the figs sitting in the little yellow plastic bowl my dad placed them in for me to munch on while i was still there. I only did eat one. The mentioning of figs reminded me of how the past few weeks my dad would sneak into the backyard, pick the ripe figs that the birds had not gotten to and set them aside from the two of us to enjoy. I don't think there's a question as to who is my dad's consentida. My dad and I always seem to bond over eating. Before I moved out of the house and graduated, I was always home for Friday lunches at Burger King. Recently, it became Saturday lunch at any fast food joint we'd feel like having. We'd vent about work, home and the family.

After getting teary over the mentioning of figs, i brushed it aside and went to look for lettuce, and ran into tomatos. Hit again with another memory, I remembered how even though my brother and I are not close, he'd always look out for me, whether it was by buying me my cherry tomatos, or giving me chips and juices when I'd come home. It just seemed as if every fruit and veggie I saw reminded me of my family.

I didn't realise how much food is a part of who I am and my family. It didn't occur to me that those family dinners saved for special occasions would resonate in other parts of my daily life. I suppose it's silly of me to think that important things in my family life would show up in other daily activities. Especially something as necessasry as food. I don't think I ever fully appreciated the time I spent with my family gathered around the dinner table sharing stories in our own mixture of Span-glish until now.

Bri and I kept cruising the aisle and came across the Spanish Food section. Next to the spanish foods, we also found some jewish and asian food. All in one asile and shelf. The Spanish food was mostly things made by Goya and one of those other americanized latin food brands. You know, the kind that real latins rarely touch. I was sadden by the fact that I couldn't find my Salsa de Pato -- sauce that was made of chile, tomatos and onions, that made my ground beef spicey and yummilicious for tacos. And even Brian was disappointed that Juanita's chicken posole was nowhere to be found.

My culinary taste is something inadvertly passed on from my parents coupled with the culture they've managed to give me is something that I am holding onto very close. These aspects of my own identity sat dorment until I was removed from my familiar surroundings.