Thursday, June 23, 2011

Lake Without Ripples

It upsets me that I have to have coffee in order to be able to concentrate and stay in task with what I'm doing. My summer class has started and even though it is just one class, it will be only eight weeks and thus very intense. For the first week I have to read four chapters and turn in four assignments already! That's not including the "quiz" (though they are more like exams).

Tomorrow is the last day of the school year. I will have a week off before the school starts it's fist summer session. Oh. Guess what? My son will be with me for the summer =).

I think too much sometimes. Especially on the bus. I am thinking and thinking and sometimes awful things that I don't even want to mention in here. I feel horrible for even thinking about these events. How can something so awful pop into my mind. Out of no where. Well, maybe not out of nowhere, because one thought always leads to another. Sometimes these thoughts are so intense that it literaly makes me cry, it feels like it really happened right before it feels like it was a bad dream. Then I realize: it was neither.

Even right now I want to cry, I want to say "wake up" and wake up to realize that there is nothing wrong. Realize that everything is the way it should be, that there is no more staring off into the distance, there is no more thoughts. There is only what is, or what you see. There is no more looking at it from your point of view, there is no more involvement with anybody. All there is is people, without thoughts, without feelings. People getting things done because that is what should be. Why? Because we've made it to be like that. No more feeling bad, but then also no more feeling happy. All there would be is contentment. Like the lake without ripples, it would be seren.

Friday, June 17, 2011

I have to wake up at 3:30am, I need to take a shower and sleep. So I won't write. But, I thought I'd share this (I think it's too funny):

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Plastic Bags and Other Trash

Okay, my son is having a late nap, so I thought I'd take advantage and post something. I am so tired, I don't want to log on tonight, but I do want to write even (like I said in the previous posts) if I don't really write about anything.

Today, I have some interesting news. Beginning July 1st plastic grocery bags in unincorporated areas of Los Angeles County will be banned. So those major supermarket stores and retail stores with pharmacies will not be allowed to hand out plastic grocery bags- the exception is the plastic bags used to hold fruit, meat, etc. Just a couple of days ago a few stores had been handing out free reusable bags. From now on if a customer wants a bag, he/she will have to be sold a paper bag for ten cents. I don't know how those paper bags will look like, I assume it will be like those that are handed out at the organic supermarkets like Trader Joes.

Only five percent of plastic bags are recycled. Isn't that something. It's believable. Everybody wants convenience.

For the past month and a half I have made it a mission to not buy anything that I will throw away. When I wait for the bus to go home I sometimes would buy some yogurt from a yogurt place.They have those huge thick containers. I had always been conscious of the trash, but I would think: I don't buy often. Then one day (I got off pretty late) I saw the trash bin in the corner at the bus stop and it was full. It was actually overflowing. While people wait for the bus they eat or drink something. The trash bin had napkins, wraps, cups, lids, etc. from fast food restaurant, coffee place, and yogurt place (the three nearest to the bus stop). With just those three places the trash bins were overflowing in a single day. There are actually two trash bins. One is right at the corner where you wait to cross the street, and the other was right by the bus stop (which is only about ten meters from the corner). Anyway, that was when I decided no more, even if I only would buy a couple of times a week, I was contributing to that trash. I felt awful.

Now, I don't buy my coffee from any place unless I have my coffee cup (with the lid). Guess what, I am charged sixty cents less at the place I buy it at because I have my own cup. So I save money too. I don't buy yogurt anymore. Besides leaving trash it is too expensive. When I pack my lunch I don't use the plastic bags with the zipper thing. I use my own reusable containers. When I pack snacks for my son, I also use tiny containers, even if it means creating more bulk (which it does).  I can't believe I just started doing this. I feel a little embarrassed because there are people who do more!

My son is going to wake up in a few minutes. I guess I will be back tomorrow. I hope I have something more interesting or creative to share. For now just writing is good for me.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Sad, but not Awful... and Updates

I said I was going to write in here every other day, and I haven't kept my word. I should have to write tonight, tomorrow, and Friday to catch up. All this week I have been feeling so tired. I think it has to do with dreams. Every single time I dream I wake up tired like if I had no sleep at all. It is a little annoying. Three days of dreaming is exhausting.

For about a month now I have been going for three-mile fast walk two times a week. Today was one of those times. I usually go with my dad or my sister. My dad usually walks fast, at my pace, but he has been having trouble with one of his legs so he has slowed down a bit. My sister is in such bad shape, poor thing. But she is a trooper, she'll go with me on walks and keeps up! Though I will admit that I will slow down my pace at certain points for her. Today I went by myself and it was very good, I even broke a heavy sweat. Besides those walks I go on, I still walk a lot. I walk to the supermarket, the library, the bank... not that these places aren't close, because they are, but whenever I go I walk fast and I have my son on the stroller and books or groceries. I walk and push, which is some exercise in itself. So now I have realized that I do exercise, that makes me feel good. I enjoy being tired because of physical exhaustion, muscle I mean... rather than mental exhaustion which is what I think I've been feeling these past three days.


Things between my son's dad and I haven't been very well... I wish we could have everything in good terms, but we think so differently I don't even know how we were together for five and a half years. I guess the experiences we had together unfortunately made us grow apart instead of making us go in the same direction. At first I would feel so guilty and horrible and would feel like it was my fault for letting things to as far as they did. Now, I probably do feel a little at fault but the feeling is not as intense as it was then. Yes, I did let things get as far as they did, but I am also glad that I left before they got worse (because I am sure they would have).

I also know that you cannot change a person's thoughts, personality, or characteristics no matter how much you wish it, or how much the other says he will. Sometimes you will never make the person understand your point of view and you know what? That's okay, too bad, but okay. It would be easier to do things, but it is what it is, or he is who he is, and that's fine. I know he loves his son, I'm sure now he regrets a lot of things he did. But, I don't really see true regrets. I see regrets of having cause someone to leave him all alone. Which is something, but what I think it should be is feeling awful for having caused so much pain, feeling awful for humiliating and taking advantage of someone who loved him, for destroying a relationship with someone who was able to stand so much and was able to give so many chances. That is sad. Just thinking about it makes me feel sad, but not awful. Not anymore. I feel good now.

I do feel a tinge of guilt at having given my son the dad he has. But at least his dad loves him and wants to see him. That I am glad of. No matter how much we disagree when it comes to our little one I know that the reasons behind what he wants when it comes to his son is because of his love for him. Too bad we can't come to an agreement. I think we may have to have the court decide for us.

Aw, what a post huh. Haha... I can't believe I feel this good. I need to keep it in check and make sure I keep feeling like this.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Getting Ready for Nap Time

After lunch, the children have two options: they can read or "write" in their journals. Then, after all the morning children have left, each teacher gets a group of three children to read to. We read three books (they are usually short ones, and if they are not we shorten it). My group consists of three boys. Two of them don't sleep, and those two are the ones who are usually very active and energetic. Sometimes during outside play we make them run around in circles and chase each other, or chase us, or sometimes they just like to run. You'd think this would drain their energy and have them worn out by the time it is time to nap, but no.

All three of them fight to sit in the middle (in between my legs). It's the best seat because they can see everything in the book. So, we decided to take turns. Whose ever book I'm reading gets to get the middle seat, and when we change book then the middle person changes too. Everybody is happy now, good.

There is a younger boy who is about two and a half and naps at school only on Wednesday. My goodness does he suck his finger. I had him in between my legs for one of the readings, he likes to lean on his elbow (the one with the thumb he sucks on) on my thigh and suck his thumb at the same time. Sometimes it's very quiet, and I am reading in a low voice to not disturb the others and I can hear the sound he makes. It's not a sucking noise, I'm not sure how to describe it. It could be like a coo, but without opening his mouth. It sounds like he is munching on his thumb and expressesing how good it is by cooing. Kind of. I'm having trouble describing the sound he makes. Anyway, that time it felt like he left almost a puddle of drool on my jeans. My jeans were soaked. I could see a giant circle of drool on my thigh with a diameter of two and a half inches. That was a lot of drool! I wasn't disgusted by it, but I felt a little annoyed at feeling the wetness of the drool on my thigh.

After I read to them they each go to their cot. I stay with the two boys that don't sleep and try to keep them quiet so the others can sleep. The first times were very difficult! Especially with one of them who is very defiant and likes to do the opposite of what you want him to do. He likes to be in control, and doesn't like anybody to tell him what to do. You tell him he's going to wake up the kids if he's loud, and he'll scream at the top of his lungs. He gets up from his cot repeatedly and that can get very frustrating. I cannot simply tell him to return to his cot because he will not go, I have to literally take him to his cot. Several times he slapped me, kicked me, and pulled my hair. Several times I've held him down and told him I will not allow him to hurt me. One time he said "what you are doing is not nice." "What am I doing?" I asked him. "You are holding my arms." I wanted to laugh in his face, but I didn't because he wouldn't have understood my laughter anyway. I simply said. "You are hitting me. Is that nice?" He said nothing. This boy is something. There is lots to say about him.

Something cute. I was reading a book to the same boy from above (D) and the other boy who doesn't sleep (A). When I finished they wanted me to show them the picture of the man who wrote it. I did and D said "He looks like a grandpa!" They both laughed.

"Maybe he is" I said.

"What does it say there?" A said pointing to the writing under the picture of the author. "Does it say if he is a grandpa?"

I read it, and it didn't say. "But," I said "it doesn't have to say, maybe he is a grandpa. There are other writers who are mothers, fathers, and granpas."

"What?!" A was in disbelief.

"Yes. They write and they read it to their kids or their kid's kids."

"Kids have kids?" Asked D. His eyes seemed pensive. He seemed to be taking it in and for a second he seemed to have believed that he could have a kid now.

"Well, when kids grow up, they have kids, and then their kids grow up and they have kids."

"No," said D. "I'm going to college."

"Well, some people go to college, and then later they have kids."

Then, I had to close the curtains and turn on the nap music. When I returned D said "you are too small to go to college" to me. I smiled. It's funny how they associate being tall with being grown up.

"Well," I said. "I already went to college."

"You went to college?" D pointed at me.

"Yes."

"Noooo. No you didn't"

"Yes, I did."

"Then, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I went to college then I came here."

He thought for a second. "I'm going to stay in college forever."

Then, A said "Karina, I'm going to go to college."

"Good!" I said. "I'm glad you both are going to college. But that is not for a few years."

"Then A said. "Karina, what is a college?"

I smiled and told him I will tell him later because everybody was trying to sleep, and they both needed to rest too.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Handsome Guy's Kiss

The guy on the bus who was sitting next to me was sort of nodding off. I could hear his deep breathing. At first I thought he had some sort of breathing problem because I have never heard anyone breath that deep. I casually glanced at him to see if he was overweight because, I don't know am I being stereotypical? Most overweight people seem to have breathing problems, so I just thought maybe he was overweight. I don't know why it matters, I don't know why I was thinking that or why I had to know, but I was, and I had to.

He was light skinned, clean shaven, and had a somewhat untamed hair. He was also wearing sunglasses (the kind that you can see-through). He was not overweight. He had a rectangular face with a straight nose rounded just right at the tip, and his lips were thin but well-defined that curved up at the edges, which made it seem like he was smiling. Yikes, he was pretty handsome. I was also able to see that his eyes were closed.

When the bus turned he stirred and lifted his head up. He saw that someone was sitting next to him and he tried to sit up and not take up as much space as his body needed. His long legs though had to open a bit and enter my "bubble". Which happens a lot with tall guys. They either have to sit at an angle or open their legs up a bit. That is usually okay with me as long as the guy is aware of this and is not being too intrusive. I'm pretty small so I don't take up much space. I remember there was a this one guy who was too much inside my bubble (I say "bubble" because I've gotten use to using this word with the preschoolers. "Stay in your bubble", "Don't enter your friends' bubble", etc.). I felt so uncomfortable. We were not even sitting on the paired seats, we were sitting on the sides so there was plenty of leg room. I felt even smaller sitting next to the guy who did not have to slouch, did not have to put his arm around the back of my seat, and did not have to practically entrap me with his leg. I had to say "excuse me" to him in order to be able to get up, which I shouldn't have to when I am sitting on the side seats because there is nothing blocking me from getting up, but when he sat there his leg was blocking me. His leg! ONE leg. I never thought that was possible. Just thinking about that gives me the creeps.

Anyway, I don't remember the point of this... actually, I think there was no point. It was just what stood out today. This handsome guy, courteous guy, whose deep breaths caught my attention. His breath had a distinctive smell of smoke. He had smoked pot I was sure. Having tried it before, and having been with someone who use to smoke a lot, I was able to detect it. Every time one exhales through the nostrils it sends out a smokey sweet smell. Also, when he "woke up" he had cotton mouth. I glanced at him again and I was able to tell that his lips lacked moisture. He opened and closed his mouth like if he was tasting something and I could hear every time his dry tongue would peel off the top of his mouth.

I thought about how his lips would feel if I were to kiss him then. I thought about how my lips would feel if I were to place them against his, not hard, just barely touch the surface. Would they stick and then peel off when I'd remove them? Would it seem like I was removing a dried layer of white glue from my skin? Perhaps it would tickle too and make me want to do it again just to feel the soft sensation of removing it, right before the urge to scratch it comes.

Then, he got off the bus.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Don't Cry

I have been listening to a lot of Bob Marley lately. I know that Bob Marley was an activist and his music was politically influenced, but when I listen to him it has more than political connotations (I will also admit that when it comes to politics I know VERY little of it). The video that I cannot stop watching and listening to is to his live 1979 performance of "No Woman No Cry". According to Google translate "embobada" means "spellbound". Heh. I guess I am spellbound then by this particular video/song. I can't just listen to the song I have to watch the video. I'm not exactly sure how I feel, but it's like he is telling me, ME, to not cry. He genuinely means it when he tells me not to cry.

This is the video I'm talking about:




My writing has been deteriorating and I hope that I can bring myself to write at least every other day even if the posts are this short or about nothing really. I just need to write.

Friday, June 3, 2011

My dad's mother

My dad has been very sad and might even say close to depressed since we found out his mom died. He went to see her (and the rest of the family) last year after not having gone like ten years. He found out she was sick and was worried but not much more than usual because something was always up with her. Then she called him and told him that she went to the hospital and had to stay for three days and the doctors were unable to figure out what was wrong with her. She couldn't eat because nothing stayed down there. She would vomit and she had excessive diarrhea. My dad then became very worried. He called a couple of days later and she was unable to talk. Then called again the next day and she seemed able to talk.

I'm actually having some trouble writing this. I'm saddened by her death not because of her but because of what my dad is feeling. He cried when he told me. I cried a little with him (had I known my grandmother I'm sure I would have cried a lot more and felt it more). My eyes right now are a little watery just thinking of what my dad is going through, thinking of my inability to console him. I don't know what to tell him. I just listen to him tell me how he has trouble believing it. He feels horrible for not having gone right away when he had the feeling that she was near death (he really did know, he told me about a week before she died that he was sure she was going to die). He also confessed to me that he didn't want to go because he didn't want to see her sick, to see her suffering, to see her die. He is glad that she is not suffering anymore. She was a good person (I know, they all are), she had people coming to her funeral from all over the country. My father is in awed; he didn't know that so many people knew her. She took care of everybody's children, by taking care I mean raising them. Everybody loved her (from what I know). I know all this sounds cliche but I don't know how else to say what I know about her.

She made me a bag. She knitted it. It's red, with a few flowers in there. I love that bag. I use it to carry my lunch and book and stuff almost every day.

That is it for now.