First Semester Wrap-up

Wrote this for the Batten Student Blog...I guess I'll post this to my own blog too...

I just finished my first semester at Batten…my first semester of grad school. My best friend asked me after my last final if I felt more like a “master.” Obviously, it was completely sarcastic but looking back I definitely have learned a lot. I KNOW my writing has gotten tons better (no blog writing doesn't count...this is casual). I definitely know how to engage someone on the economic wisdom of certain policy interventions. Before this program, I definitely did not know what paternalistic altruism is or why I should care about it. I’ve learned how to write a history-based opinion editorial. I always enjoyed reading them but actually feel like I could write a solid one.  I met with some of the top officials in the immigration policy world through the podcast series I recorded for my "Changing Context of Policy" class.  Batten sent me to an Edward Tufte workshop on graphical presentations that was amazing. It’s been sort of a whirlwind.

I love Charlottesville. I love Virginia. It’s like nowhere else I have ever lived. After growing up in Texas, Americorps VISTA in East Los Angeles, and Peace Corps in El Salvador, UVA is quite a change but a nice one. I love the smallness of this town. I can be anywhere in five minutes but it still has everything I want. I love the cool weather, beautiful leaves, crisp air. I can get to DC in two hours…a trip I have made at least 15 times this semester. I go for work or we went up at least 5 times for class projects but every time it’s so easy. I absolutely love DC. But, I am always glad to get back to Cville. First, I will likely spend a significant amount of time after grad school living in DC, so I am not in a rush. Second, it’s so much more affordable to live here than DC! Third, DC would be incredibly distracting to me if I lived there during school!!

Nerdy as it sounds, I cannot wait until next semester. At the Holiday Party, I met the professor teaching the Congress class in the spring. He’s a super-Hill veteran and totally convinced me my education will be incomplete without his class. Hilarious. I have never had a professor talk me into enrolling in their class before. I am also taking a Spanish to English Translation class, which I am super pumped about. What I am not so pumped about is the prospect of 18 hrs!! I intentionally took NO electives my first semester in order to re-learn how to manage my time. I feel like I can handle some electives now. We’ll see!

Winter break will be focused on applying to internships, working on some Virginia Policy Review stuff, and planning an event for Batten Council. Should be a busy break!

Calling Home

Just called home to El Salvador. I had been putting it off for months, dreading what I would hear. My abuela in El Salvador was on the verge of dying last time I called down so that played into a big part of the delay. I finally called mostly because I needed to get the number of one of my girlfriends who walked to the States shortly before I left. She is living in NYC now and I want to check on her when I head up to the city in a few weeks.

In El Salvador, phones get ruined, lost, or stolen all the time. The average PCV goes through about 3 phones in 2 years so you can imagine how many phones the people there go through. I heard before I left El Salvador that they were about to run out of phone numbers. The cell phones there are mostly pre-paid and you don't register them so companies have no idea which numbers are inactive. I guess they are gonna have to figure it out soon.

Anyways, suffice it to say I had a hard time getting a hold of my host mom because none of her phone numbers worked anymore. I did manage to locate her son's phone number though and got through. Happily, her family is doing great including her mother. But, the women who gave me Cleo and was always helpful to me while I lived in my community had died of sudden heart attack. It made me so sad to hear. She was an awesome lady. I lived in the same house with her son and daughter-in-law so I saw her all the time. And, of course, I loved her because she gave me one of the little joys of my life.

It's weird to call back to El Salvador. The world there doesn't stop moving just because I am not there but somehow it feels like it should. I do want to get back if only to hang out with my host mom. I miss her. A lot. I miss the pace of life too. Its horrible to say that now because when you are there the pace is exactly what can drive you insane.

The Uniqueness of UVA

At UVA, they always talk about what Jefferson would think or want. Everything from leaving a gate open in the garden to calling campus "grounds" is considered sacred. While you definitely do some eye-rolling in the first few days here, you start to buy into it. It's cool to be in a place with traditions that are hundreds of years old.

UVA does have its quirks. For instance, the bus drivers are students. Yes, the guy sitting next to you in class could very well be the bus driver. My neighbor, it turns out, dropped me off at my bus stop yesterday. It's a bit bizarre.

Less quirky and actually quite wonderful is how close everything is. To go out downtown, hop on the free trolley. Want to eat, head to the Corner. Nothing in Cville is more than 10 minutes away. I like never needing my car. I love walking to campus. Oh, that's another thing. The weather has been absolutely gorgeous. Even when it's raining, I love it. Reminds me of El Salvador...

I really like my classmates and classes are interesting....mostly. It's very clear that the curriculum they developed had a ton of thought behind it and I will leave here with a set of skills I never would have acquired otherwise.

This weekend is my first football game- WAHOOWAH! I'm pumped. I was playing beach volleyball right when I got here and heard the band practicing. The cheerleader in me started jumping up in down. Hopefully I won't throw my horns up when I am excited ;)
Games here are super southern ie. guys wear coats and girls wear pearls. I don't think I am going to conform. That's not football to me...we'll see how it goes.

Home is where my things are

Renaming the blog. I wasn't particularly fond of the last name but as I was driving to Charlottesville last night to meet the movers who would be arriving at 6 am this morning I remembered how I always say that home is where my things are. If you have talked to me recently you have probably heard me express my concern that I can move places with little attachment for where I am at the moment. I find myself not wanting to be any place for too long. I spent a year in LA, over 2 in El Salvador, 6 months in Austin, and now am moving to Charlottesville. I can make no commitment beyond Charlottesville because I know I am temperamental and as much as I am in love with (the idea of) living in Virginia, it probably won't last. At least I know myself a little.

Just having my worldly possessions which can fit into exactly 17 boxes, 2 suitcases, and a cat carrier is enough to satisfy me wherever I am.

Last leg of the trip

Well I made it to Virginia finally. I could not be more tired. It was a very rushed drive but by far the prettiest leg of the trip.

I opted to leave Cincinnati by way of the Appalachian highway and skip the major interstates. This route took me through the heart of the Ohio River Valley, West Virginia, and Maryland. Along the way I saw some very interesting things. First, I saw prisoners in Ohio dressed in black and white prison stripes. They were cleaning trash off the highway. I guess I knew they wore bright pink in Arizona but I had never actually seen this get-up in real life. The next thing I saw was what I thought was a tractor on the side of the highway. Then I saw horses and I thought how weird that the tractor got stuck and was pulling it with horses. Then I realized it was a wagon and what I thought was the top of the tractor was actually a young man. It was an Amish guy in overalls and everything! After that I kept looking for an Amish town but couldn't see one. When I reached a coal-mining town in West Virginia, I saw a different kind of poverty than I am used to and was reminded just how much that state struggles with it.

The drive was so beautiful. It reminded me that there is so much to see within our borders. You don't have to leave it to see gorgeous landscapes. Not to discourage foreign travel, but it seems like we don't appreciate domestic travel as much as we should.

One Year Bad Luck

I moved back to Austin officially on January 1st. My sister and I went out for New Years in Austin and then voila, I was living in Austin again. A month later it all started:

January 30th: Dog attacks me while jogging. I file a claim against the owners and being its third victim prepare to go to court to have it labelled a dangerous dog- the best they tell me I can do. I do a little legal maneuvering and the dog is put down...trust me he is in a better place.

February: Roll my ankle playing soccer and while getting Xrays for that discover that the dog wound is developing hardening blood pockets which could be permanent if I do not massage and heat them up nightly. My scar is also not healing so I go to the dermatologist who tells me I have vitiligo (Michael Jackson's disease) brought on by trauma (dog) and will have to have laser therapy.

March: Have a drunken man swing a shotgun wildly around me in the middle of the night.

April: Tire gets a nail in it and barely misses the part of the tire where you can patch it. New tire required.

May: I ran out of contacts but not before throwing my last pair away. So I wore my glasses. However, I had to put on my makeup essentially blind and managed to stick my blush brush in it. This resulted in a corneal abrasion which triggered an undetected astigmatism. I have been to the optometrist 5 times and the opthamologist twice in 3 months. I have been in and out of glasses, misdiagnosed, put on at least 6 different eye drops. What did I learn? Never go to an optometrist.

June: Roommate problems.

July: Hmm...well I guess it was a good month or rather, nothing bad happened.

August ie. TODAY!!!!: I am on my voyage from Texas to Virginia. I stopped in Amarillo for 4 days. Had a good time. I get to Oklahoma. My cat almost has a nervous breakdown. My idea of putting the litter box out for her fails miserable and now I have cat litter EVERYWHERE in my car. The mini-experiment of letting her wander in the car fails and brings on her panting like a dog- totally not normal. My mind starts thinking of how to get her to the nearest vet. Thankfully she finally chills out and falls asleep. In Arkansas, I am a mere 30 minutes from my nights destination. I have been noticing all day how my car is pulling really strong to the right but I figured it was when I checked the curb a few days before. I thought that sucked but I'd get it fixed. I had to take my car in anyways because my grandpa backed into on Sunday (more bad luck-- I'm serious his car was barely scratched and mine will require a whole new panel!) So I am on the phone with Deb (my bfffff) when i hear a thud and then plastic tearing and ripping and I just know my tire has blown out and I keep remembering how people flip their cars during blowouts and how I better be careful to keep my steering wheel straight. Thankfully I have my new bluetooth in and both hands were on the wheel. I am on a MAJOR highway but my car is seriously f'd up and I keep thinking the front of my car is going to fall off. There are 18 wheelers everywhere and I know someone is going to ram into and roll over my tiny little car so I grab Cleo and get the hell out. I start calling my roadside assistance and stand in the middle grassy part btwn the two highways. I'm on hold with my roadside (def going to complain later) when this big Expedition drives up to me. Of course, I think thank G-d its daylight and I can't be raped (too much Law & Order). They jump out and tell me they are going to move the car off the highway. I tell them I don't think they can. Of course, they know better. I am half hysterical. They drive my car to the complete other side of the highway and one of them starts throwing stuff out of my car like he is gonna change it. I think he is crazy. I mean there are electrical cords popping out! The other guy asks me if I'll stay with his kids and sit in the car with Cleo. I agree and get in. 11 year old boys are sitting in the back. I watch them change my tire and then a State Trooper pulls up so I get out to talk to him. I can't decide if its bc I look 16 or bc I am a woman but either way they start telling the Trooper my Daddy shouldn't let me drive this small of a car. Whatever. They were very nice to change the tire. The Trooper made a joke not to put my Texas gear back in the car. With Georgia men changing the tire and the Trooper who probably is a Razorback I just give a little laugh. They all convince me my little midget tire is fine to drive into Little Rock on but then I should get it repaired. My floodlight has been ripped off and the thing that pops my hood has not only been dismanteled but the plastic lever inside my car was ripped from the car. At this point, I want to sue someone. WTF.

I am writing this in a crappy hotel in Little Rock in probably not the safest part of town. Tomorrow I have to wake up early to get there before the car shop opens and pray they can put me on the road so I can do the major stuff in Virginia. Please G-d.

True Texan

Well, I feel like a true Texan after today. Today I went to the shooting range in Amarillo with my two uncles and grandpa.
First, I had to take a "safety test" (I passed with a 100) and then we got permission to shoot and a little laminated card. What surprised me the most was that I didn't have to show any ID. I don't know why I would have to now that I think about it... Especially after I saw a 12 year old shooting with her parents.

We started off shooting my grandpa's .38 pistol that he bought six years ago and had never shot. We all took turns. I have to admit its pretty cool. At first, I was really scared and I could not believe how loud it was. I had to push the earplugs in a little tighter. The pistol had a bit of kick but I got the idea. The best part was loading it and putting the barrel in. After we shot the pistol, we went over to the rifle range. My uncle has a "Mauser" which I really did not want to shoot since my Uncle Jeff kept calling it a "shoulder dislocator." He pretty much peer pressured me and really caught my weak side by repeatedly reminding me it was part of history. He informed me it was the standard issue weapon on World War II. (I was already imagining telling my Normandy friends.) It wasn't as bad as I thought but I only shot 2 shots before my shoulder was starting to feel it a bit. Afterwards we shot a M4 aka M16 which my uncle, an Army Lt. Col., says is the standard issue weapon in the military today. It was amazing how light that was and how little it kicked.

My hand is not very steady so I won't say I am the best shooter but it was still fun. I can see where people like it as a sport but somewhere in the back of my mind, I looked sideways at a few of those people out on the range with us...

El Salvador on my mind

There is still a lot of El Salvador lingering around in my head. I almost always say a silent thank you to God every time I get in the hot shower. And, some part of me always seems just a tiny bit surprised when the water almost immediately gets hot…I secretly always expect it to give out.

Last night, as I was lying in bed, I imagined myself back in my bed in El Salvador. I’ve done it before but I guess didn’t think much of it the other times. Last night, it occurred to me how much I am trying to take in when I imagine it—the smells, the noises, the feeling of sleep in the near-open. Sleeping in a cinder block house with air-vents/holes to the immediate outside world is quite a different experience. Most Americans probably only do something similar when they are camping; Peace Corps volunteers do it for over two years.

I can never quite decide if I miss the noises of the Salvadoran nights. It’s kind of a nice “one-with-nature” feeling you get when you can hear every cat, chicken, cow and person of the night. On the other hand, there were very few nights where I didn’t have ear plugs in my ears at some point during the night.

Also really different now is waking up and going to the bathroom inside the house. For some strange reason, I always wonder if my cat understands that it is the same thing that I used to do in the middle of the night in El Salvador where rain or no rain I had to run hurriedly out to the shed that was the bathroom. I know, weirdo who thinks about her cat way too much. But, what I mean to say is that Cleo and I had certain night routines in El Salvador. Because of the lack of A/C I had to consume lots more water than I do here in the States and therefore visited the baño much more. One time, I failed to do so and woke up so severely dehydrated in the morning that I passed out for the first time in my life and had to go to the hospital. (This also may have been related to another illness but still.) Now, I rarely go the bathroom and my cat is miraculously able to sleep through an entire night until my alarm goes off which she now knows is a sure-fire sign that she can get her morning lovin’ in. (I RARELY ever used an alarm in El Salvador and Cleo always took it upon herself to wake me up whenever she saw fit for us to start our days.)

El Salvador, for so long I wondered how you would remain in my mind after I left you. Now I know it’s either to praise His good name for letting me escape you or remind me of the small curiosities that make you what you are.

The Ranch

Last week, Papo called me to ask if I would come over and watch the house and feed the animals. So, today after touching up my newly sanded-down/painted furniture and playing a rough soccer game I went down there.

I packed up my mom's boxes to ship to her and cleaned the house we emptied a bit. I fed the donkeys, the goats, and the cows the many, many bags of leftover bread my grandpa gets donated to him for free every week.Then, my grandparents got home. They were in a great mood when they pulled up. They like when I come visit but also they were in an especially good mood because they took a family to church for the first time. My Papo is a deacon in the Catholic Church and since my grandparents retired it is even more part of their life than it was before which even then was significant.

I was excited to show them the two rose bushes I brought them and they were excited to give me some gas money...in that way they are normal grandparents.

As we were sitting around talking in the dining room my grandfather started to talk to me. He was telling me how Mamo is so helpful in his ministry. He was saying how she forgets things now but he helps her and he believes this is all part of God's plan. My Mamo is suffering from what is obviously the early stages of Alzheimer's. Her mother had it and so it is not all the surprising that she does too. It's a hard reality to deal with. Most people can't.

My Papo had Mamo write a check for me and as she was writing my check she couldn't remember how to spell my last name, what month it was, or how to write the number my Papo told her to put on the check. But, its not just that her memory is going. She is a totally different person now too. My Mamo, much like my mother, has always been a very strong woman. She had a tough life and worked hard to make herself a comfortable one. She used to be opinionated, tough, and give you a hard time. People who came into her store when I was growing up would love to come in and pick fights with Ms.Perez. With the disease she has lost a lot of that. She is much more girl-like now. She does what my Papo tells her to do. She cries if she thinks about not being able to remember stuff. She cries when I get off the phone or leave her. My mother taught me a trick where whenever I feel her about to cry or whenever I know we are going to say good-bye I have to distract her in some way. Play down the bad memory or the good-byes. Talk about naming her new dog or make a joke as I am leaving. It's really hard. When we were talking in the kitchen. I decided I needed picture of my grandparents. So here it is. Even taking it was painful. It was just a moment that was not normal. The Mamo I grew up with probably wouldn't have been all girly and sat on my Papo's lap. My Papo would not have held her protectively and kissed her on the cheek. But this is how it happened when I snapped the picture on my iPhone. I started to cry as soon as I saw the image on my screen.