jesus says we die a little death for him every day
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
04:41 a.m.
After my nightly phone conversation (I always seem to have one, the conversant changing fairly frequently), I did not go to bed, instead plopping myself down in front of the computer to read friends' journals and google everyone I know in search of dirt. I found some interesting tidbits, including people's submissions to alumni magazines. Now, net-frolicking and 3 chapters of the new Harry Potter later, I am listening to actual roosters crowing. Roosters don't seem to give a shit about the sun's appearance, I'm assuming they have some kind of crazed internal clock that does not cater to my express wishes for nighttime quiet (exemptions apply for cicadas and crickets).
An outing with N'nai Beaux^2 and Mama produced one gastronomically satiated me and a new book about- you guessed it- oppression of American Indians. I am "adorably predictable." I also received an e-mail informing me that I will be officially appointed to the shared governance committee I was on this summer (which has now disbanded, its worked considered completed).
Casey has this joke- "You know you're an Indian when a good night means waking up on your ex-girlfriend's porch without pissing yourself." It's kind of Gandhi-esque that one of my finer moments involves having the discipline to sleep on my ex's couch (instead of in her bed) one night after our break-up. Of course, this is largely because her bed was so effing uncomfortable, but points for my emotional maturity, right?
I am operating with two low-grade crushes at the moment. (Crushes are one of the more exciting features of life; one should have at least one at all times, regardless of relationship status.) One is probably the most good-for-me woman I've met in years; she's straight. The other shares my political idealism, committment to indigenous rights, and the opinion that indigenous politics always come before queer ones. She is also over a decade older than me and is, for all related purposes, quite unaware of my callow little existence. I am supposedly allowed to date this August, but have found no one with the qualifications I require. (Shut up Sara, I know you will hotly refute everything I say.)
I will be leaving here in 3 days. I will reiterate to anyone who cares that I wish to stay, hate Madison, and would not return if not for the love and support of people like Sara, Janell, Emily, and Eileen. I have informed our director of higher education here in Isleta that I am preparing to take over her job. Neither executive position in our department of ed. is held by a Native. I am going to take over the world, one tiny BIA franchise office at a time.
denial, deviation, temptation, and trial
Monday, August 25, 2003
03:29 p.m.
To escape the Isleta sun, you must hide inside. The rancho is quiet, except for the sound of my mother's sewing machine & the cadet veering his fighter jet over the rez accidentally. (We're only a few miles from an Air Force Base.) I looked to my left a few minutes ago and saw how brown I am, I'd forgotten.
Indian Market concluded- my grandmother did very well. My mother and I went to the stalls together yesterday. I bought a pair of dark red beaded barrettes. Our family friend, Lottie, said I have good taste in colors, "very traditional." I smiled. I also have new earrings, a bracelet , and a cross with inlaid coral on one side and turquoise on the other. All my jewelry is silver. I feel beautiful. If only my hair would grow longer faster...
After market, my immediate family headed over to Villa Linda Mall to see Freaky Friday with Jamie Lee Curtis and Lindsay Lohan. We love movies and we're always seeing totally stupid ones. It was wonderful. We dropped the kids off at the Indian School dorms. My little brother's room is so bare, he and his roommate hadn't put anything on the wall. There weren't any sheets on the mattresses either, poor babies. My sister has an Honor Room- she has a high GPA. She and 5 other girls live in a room with 3 bunk beds and a TV.
This afternoon the sun has been intensifying between intermittent showers. We went into the village- to the Department of Education & the Indian Hospital. I got new glasses prescriptions, a new box of strips for my meter, and a lunch date with Volney Hildreth. At the DoE, Joanna and I discussed my education. I am on the honor roll for my tribe!
It's amazing to be home, to be surrounded by the blood red earth, the sparkling Rio, and my family, eating Indian Tacos and calabacitas. I wish Janell were here, I miss her so much. This whole week has been a whirlwind and I need her to be here to bitch and laugh. I'll be glad to see her again this weekend, but that means leaving home. Oh the tragedy of being a half-breed, torn between two worlds! *rolls eyes* Sara should be around too, teasing me relentlessly and figuring out my romances before I do.
Well, my mother and I are sewing me a new dress for my photos this weekend, so I should get back into the living room to help her. Write me lots of e-mails, I'm starved for outside contact!
i hope you know that you're something too
Saturday, August 23, 2003
11:48 p.m.
Home from Indian Market, home from the concert. Mama, Aunty & I went to see Robert Mirabel. During the interval, Aunty & I went out to the concession stand to get some water & we ran into one of her colleagues. She said "This is Liz' sister, she's here visiting." It hit me, hard. I am no longer my own woman, I am the sibling of my younger sister. I am visiting. I am visiting. What am I doing with my life? Is it really the right choice to be away at school?; I saw my baby cousin Brandi today, she's not even a baby anymore. What am I giving up so I can spend time with "activists" who bring me down? There are only a few people keeping me going in Wisconsin, only a few things making the whole "college experience" worth giving home.
Tonight, at the amphitheatre, Mama and I came in late. As I scooted down the row to my seat, I caught the eye of a woman, a queer Native woman. Native women already defy the whole butch/femme deal, but this was one of those instances where that infamous gaydar came into play. She held my eye the entire way down the row. My whole body smiled; one of the hardest parts of being home is hiding who I am. I was smitten for five minutes- until I turned around and saw the woman on her arm. She was wearing a red scarf in her hair, a dark sweater jacket, and deep full-blood eyes. We left the concert hours later, my cropped adolescent head still turning back to look at her long dark hair and glittering confidence. I shuffled back across the Indian School campus to the house wondering- will I ever be that way? Confident, queer, and Native, all at the same time?
she's gonna shimmy 'til her garters break!
Friday, August 22, 2003
09:32 a.m.
WiscMail appears to be down, but it could simply the 28.8kbps connection with which I attempt to reacquaint myself with the world. It is so beautiful here, these quiet, peaceful days in Isleta. I wish I could stay here, in the calm, forever. Only a few more years. I told Mama about the D.C. internship. Apparently, if my parents hadn't followed Daddy's career, we'd be there still.
Yesterday, after a short visit to the Department of Higher Education, we went to Ta-Ta and Chi'i's house. The first thing I saw when I opened the door was an 8x10 portrait of none other than President George W. Bush. Chi'i was very proud of it. Apparently, Ta-Ta gave the Republican Party some money and they sent him the photo. Ta-Ta has a good heart. He sits down in his chair with his mail and carefully reads every letter. They all sound compelling to him, so his tiny per capita checks all get carried away to starving Christian children & George W. Bush. I am proud of his generosity and angry at the Bush admnistration for sending those letters to our Pueblo, where poverty affects all and none can truly afford to give to him. Especially since he hasn't done shit for us. This is a bit much- but what homeland security bullshit has ever been offered to tiny reservations? I thought so.
The moment I stepped from the plane, I felt safe, felt the earth moving up through the bottoms of my feet to welcome me. My body and the earth know they belong to each other. I spend a lot of time alone, outside praying and inside reading. I miss Janell for her support and wit. I wish Sara were around so we could drive north to see Luka in her green bug, laughing and taking photos of the most beautiful place in the country.
My insecurities return. Am I not Native enough anymore?
oh person, person, person
Wednesday, August 20, 2003
02:37 a.m.
Early morning in the ASM office. It's sleepover/clean-up night. I've largely avoided cleaning, save a brief housekeeping sweep of the ISC desk, which I already had in semi-clean form. I need to finish up the lawyer pack check list, leave instructions for poster distribution while I'm gone, and realize that the campaign will be fine without me for 11 days.
Carlos is sleeping on the 6th Session couch. If he were about 17 years younger, he could be used in an Ethan Allen Kids ad- his hands are folded and he has an oddly peaceful expression on his face. Janell and Anita have briefly abandoned us to take showers.
When I come back, it will be fall. I will miss this Madison summer, my first. It all worked out, financially. So much happened between the harrowing van ride with Casey, Lilia, and a trunk full of my boxes & the trip away from 1123 Jenifer with the same belongings in Sue's vehicle.
It's been a summer of growth, or passions misguided, of fledgling organizing, of fascinating sandal tans, and still-beating broken hearts. The already-overwhelming commitments of my fall seem daunting. I want to crawl back into the arms of my affair with summer, bury my face in its shoulder, and sleep until morning.
¢¾ you can floor that thing, let the engine roar ¢¾
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
09:26 p.m.
"Take criticism seriously, but not personally. If there is truth or merit in the criticism, try to learn from it. Otherwise, let it roll right off you."
-Hillary Rodham Clinton
I need to take that quote into consideration. Jen gave sent it to me after an insightful encounter yesterday. One of my greatest faults, perhaps my greatest, not taking into consideration my proclivity to talk too much or my arrogance, is my tendency to take others' opinions far too seriously.
I am going to miss Madison for the next 10 days. I spent the day assembling lawyers packs, discussing immigrant psychology with Annamarie over a styrofoam carton of peanut stew, and outpouring my melodramic woes to Emily Kate McWilliams. In 20 hours, I will be running over the Isleta sand and consuming copious amounts of hot tortillas with honey and butter.
eschews drama
i was always your little girl
Friday, August 15, 2003
05:00 a.m.
Having largely thrown my responsibilities to the wind for the space of two days, I am now faced with several menial tasks to complete before I fly home to New Mexico. I am applying to the Mc Nair Scholars Program, so I have been running about assembling my application. Eileen and I are also trying to get into the Gloria Steinem Leadership Institute in Missouri. I am also working on my application to a internship at the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington D.C. for next summer.
One of my best friends from Ukraine, Bogdan, is coming to visit me tonight. He'll be staying for the weekend. My life's direction has swerved about drastically in the past six years; I am sure his has as well. I am anxious to hear about XAPbKIB and catch up on our adolescent antics.
I have just realized that my father's presence will allow me to purchase my textbooks tomorrow.
i wanna tie you down & put you in my mouth
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
02:40 a.m.
At precisely twelve o'clock noon today, I handed over my summer final paper, "Genocide, Ambition, and Silence: The Effects of European Oppression in Native American Literature." The paper was made particularly intriguing by my use of the term "Native American," which I generally eschew for the more appropriate "American Indian."
Let's use that terminology to segue into a conversation held today with one Dr. Ned Blackhawk of Madison's history department. Despite my constant (and generally meaningless) interruptions, Ned was able to convey his reasoning for the use of "American Indian." We are intrinsically American, we indigenous Americans. The western hemisphere's two continents have been referred to as the Americas since the time of contact; as the original inhabitants of these lands, our ancestors were the first Americans. European colonists co-opted the term when they appropriated our identity along with our land. Native Americans can be applied to any person born on these two western hemispheric continents and is therefore detrimental to processes of identification.
Enough pedagogy. I spent the day in various meetings, attempting to dodge the humidity by ducking in and out of coffeeshops and various campus offices. Apparently Angelina has finished her thesis on American Indian women's experience on the UW-Madison campus; as one of her interview subjects, I would like to read it. I will e-mail her tomorrow to set up a time, as dissertation copying can be quite expensive.
I biked home at two this morning, after a few hours of television and Queer as Folk with Janell. The streets were still, save a few drunken homosexuals and the odd bicyclist. One more week and even Madison's early morning quiet will pale in comparison to the scintillating dome of New Mexico's night sky.
how rough it is to let me go
Monday, August 11, 2003
03:02 a.m.
Until I was sixteen, way back in the 20th century, we pronounced the current year in manner of "nineteen-xxx." Now, we say "two thousand-xxx." I wonder if we will revert to our original vernacular in the 22nd century, saying "twenty-one xxx" instead of "two thousand one hundred xxx." It seems that this choice would be more efficient. Any postulations?
Tomorrow is Harvey Day. I generally complain about the walking distance to his office, though the benefits of the appointments usually outweigh the boring walk past the tanning salon/laundromat-in-one. On my last visit, the day before I left for Congress, Casey lounged in the waiting room, reading the new Sherman Alexie. I have come to realize that shrinks are a privilege, not a right- much like spandex hot pants.
It's been a gorgeous day. Highlights are as follows:
- a long bath with a new (pink) razor.
- phone calls that fade in and out while i wrote my paper
- mass, during which i paid very little attention (partially because we did not sing anything exciting)
- the grand opening of Eric's site
- the prospect of my soft, warm, obnoxiously-teal bed
it's cherry cherry red and it beats on time
Sunday, August 10, 2003
02:58 p.m.
Early Sunday afternoon and it's already been an interesting weekend. Janell and I went to Katy's American Indian Arts and talked to the face of capitalism, the axis of colonist evil, Katy. Afterward, we walked around the zoo, drinking a red slush, eventually ending up on Jenn's back porch, discussing recent events gone awry.
Janell and I have been having some interesting conversations about self-identity. As multi-racial, we have direct experience with feeling a lack of legitimacy. This is an interesting topic as lately, I have been thinking about self-identification for Natives a lot. Our discussion has concentrated on people of Native American descent with very, very low quantums. My tentative feelings are that if such a person is using their Native identity to gain access to limited resources like scholarships, then they need to be giving something back to their community. If the person is accessing such resources without trying to learn more about their background or giving anything back to the community, or even attending meetings of their affiliated student organization, then it enrages me that they would call out their descent so innappropriately. This theory is very tentative and only applies to people with a large amount of white privilege who are using limited resources.
I want to go to the Choice GROW in Utah this fall. I wish it were in the Midwest, so it would be a more plausible trip. I'll have to talk to a few people about it. I've never been to a GROW, which is really pathetic, considering I had the opportunity this spring and didn't take it. I use GROW charts and have even had mini-GROW sessions, but I have never been to one. I want to go!
out in the woods she navigates fine by the moon
Saturday, August 9, 2003
03:16 a.m.
I've been home from California for a few days now. The whole trip seems kind of like a dream. I could be trite and talk about how much I grew and came to understand about myself and those around me, but in the interest of my small but dedicated readership, I will decline to do so.
At this point, I am tired of reflecting, of debriefing, and generally overanalytic behavior. I simply want to eat this tupperware of condensed tomato soup and marvel at the goodness of summer. There have been wonderful moments this week, from falling, exhausted, to sleep on Donovan & Sean's floor to excellent company and hummus on an airport tram to late nights at the ASM office watching news clips and playing literati.
My ideas for the coming semester are blossoming. I am eager to begin. First, however, comes a vacation at home, in New Mexico. It's strange to think of being home as a vacation. I can already taste the green chile stew and smell the hummingbird water boiling.
I love my summer crew; I am almost scared of the onslaught of people, new and old, that the fall semester will bring. I dread the upcoming rise in responsibility. However, I am excited to work on the USSA Action Agendas and my Plan 2008 project. On that note, I will defer my attention and energy to sleep.
