all the drama that you crave that you really want
Saturday, January 31, 2004
07:17 p.m.

Now I am twenty-one. I do feel somewhat different, but I'm not sure if that's because I had a birthday or because I started taking Ritalin. I crawled out of bed with the GF and insisted on doing homework. I even finished my "long" paper on American Indian scholarships. It's longer than it needs to be, but still comes up short of my lofty expectations. Now, there's only one short paper left on the justification for Indigenous People's Day.

My family sent me a wonderful birthday package. My mother sent a history of Pueblo peoples after which I'd been lusting. Elisabeth gave me an Anchee Min novel and Pip sent The Royal Tenenbaums on DVD. Fatima and I watched but she was far less than impressed.

Sue and Tass took me, Sara, Fatima, and Eileen out to dinner at Sa Bai Thong on my actual birthday. It was crazy, to have people from all these different parts of my life together at one table. It was disgustingly cold outside and I spent the last minutes of my birthday shuffling across Library Mall to the Union from Library Mall to catch the SafeRide bus.

So, January 2004? An okay month overall. I hung out at home for the first half, chilled Chez George for a few days, and started a new semester with way too many Indian classes. February brings the casino referendum vote, the SCC/PREA retreat, and papers, papers, papers.

we'll it's true that we love one another
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
08:23 p.m.

I'm still in my room, recovering, reading various course readers about Indians, watching TiVOed reruns of ER, and downing slices of bread with hummus. My mother called me today and we discussed our unnatural love for hummus, something unknown to most Indians of our ilk. When I was much smaller, I went through a phase where I refused to eat anything without hummus. I've moved on in my food loves; I am now fully willing to put sour cream and tabasco on nearly everything, much to the chagrin of those around me.

Sara sent me some songs from The White Stripes' Elephant. They remind me of my little brother, who is much too far away. We had a great thing going while I was there, working on his math homework. We tried to work on his homework last night via phone, but it didn't go as well as we'd hoped. Pip's right- when does one need to find the surface area of a prism in everyday life?

So, much more reading about Calumet pipes and some Momaday to get through before bed. The night is young, who knows, I may live it up and have some blue Powerade!

would that i could get me some
of your yum yum delirium
Sunday, January 25, 2004
10:24 p.m.

I'm still somewhat ill, but what would infirmity be without the most comfortable pajama pants ever (courtesy of the GF), Ani DiFranco's new CD (courtesy of my own indulgences), or tens of TiVOed hours of ER (courtesy of University Housing cable)? I've had two packets of Emer-gen-C, copious amounts of juice, and lots of bedrest (the real sort, when no one else is in there with me). I've whiled away the hours writing my Sandefur paper and entertaining myself with other mundane matters.

For example, aren't you just aching for Sheri Whitefeather to be your best friend? I found her while looking for academic sources online. Her bio says "her hobbies include ethnic dining, attending powwows and shopping in vintage stores for leather jackets from the 60s and 70s... Her favorite heroes to create are modern-day warriors, rugged loners often searching for their roots... Sheri, an Italian American, claims a rich ancestry from great-grandparents who immigrated to the United States." How has her work slipped by my edumacated NDN-former Borders employee- American Indian Studies minor eyes? With people like Sheri Whitefeather around, who needs Indian scholarship?

In other news, Furby and I have decided to become elves. Though I was at first wary of what appear to be gauzy Elven fabrics (I am not much for Wisconsin winters), she quickly convinced me otherwise. Apparently, as the first elves of color, we will garner much adoration. Neat. In other LoTR-related ponderings, I noticed that hobbits are quite fond of potatoes. These are an American Indian-domesticated foodstuff. Now- either Indians are the ancestors of hobbits or they have taken after our cuisine. If I am truly descended from a hobbit, then Renée (of MadObserver fame) and I may very well be related, as it widely known that she herself of hobbitish descent.

I have moved my head to the other side of my bed, meaning I now sleep with my head closer to the "closet" than to the window. We'll see how it goes. Mostly, it's an annoyance because there is no bedside lamp on that end and I am forced to keep the fluorescent overhead lit.

I will be twenty one in three days; if I am not well by then, I shall do something drastic like check out every single Meg Ryan movie from the Elizabeth Waters Hall Association Office (God forbid!).

my heart is just a muscle
and simply put, it's sore
Saturday, January 24, 2004
11:10 p.m.

I wrote a letter tonight, on Deery Lou stationery. Wouldn't it be odd to be known by one adjective? Deery Lou: the Cheerful Fawn- as though Deery Lou never had any other emotions. (Not that she does, she's a cartoon.) What would mine be? Colette, the melodramatic Indian? Likely so.

As if being ill weren't bad enough, I awoke from my afternoon nap with a four hour bout of Maharaja Syndrome. I'm in one of those moods where nothing is pleasant, least of all that. My big brother brought me a plastic figurine of Miles Standish from Boston this summer; he sits on my desk because I can't think where else to put him. I'd kind of like to be a Full Posable Historical Figure someday. What would I be wearing? Miles Standish looks kind of like my father, who used to wear Jefferson shirts when I was in middle school. He got over that at some point, but still wears black Levis everyday.

I am supposed to write these two papers, but haven't begun either one. Actually, I've got a rough idea of one, having written an article largely similar to the paper. Instead, I watched far too many episodes of ER and this movie Earth. It was a good movie, though very disturbing. Human beings' capacity for war and bloodshed is overwhelming. What's the point? I feel as though I should watch something more benign now, like Harry Potter. Am I not blessed to have that option, to switch off violence in favor of small children playing Quidditch?

I love silver. In my head, stars are silver. It is cold in space, cold and airless. Why do I glorify stars so much? In the night, shuffling along the sidewalk away from my dorm, I revel in the familiarity of the constellations. Even when I was away in Europe, the stars were the same. There are different stars below the equator: at what point do you begin to see different stars? Do you just hop over the line and Wham! new sky?

I want a very large bathtub filled with hot water so I can soak away this bug and pretend I'm at Ojo Caliente.

real is real regardless
of what you try to say
or say away
real is real relentless
Saturday, January 24, 2004
06:33 p.m.

Last night, I read about the genocide of American Indians and scurried about my room packing my backpack for my trip to Washington. At 3am, I woke up with a fever of over 103°. I had to leave a voicemail at ChoiceUSA and have spent the day in my bed, drifting in and out of consciousness and trying to watch television. I tried to read some homework but the words swim around on the page.

However, I have discovered that TNT is showing The Mask of Zorro for three nights in a row. Now, I don't particularly care for the movie, but since I've seen it before, it doesn't really matter if I fall asleep intermittently.

ASM's Train to Train was today. I can't help but feel a little envious. It was my choice to leave and I needed out. Pabitra will co-coordinate the campaign in her last semester here. I have come to the realization that I will be leaving in Spring 2005, scary. I suppose I should be looking more concretely at graduate schools. I am not ready for a new era in my life; despite my constant complaints, I like Madison and don't particularly want to be transplanted cross-country to California or New York just yet.

When I am sick, I am incredibly needy. I used to complain that Jessica was the biggest baby when she was ill, seemingly incapable of doing anything herself. Now, I am the same way, leaving the GF messages and interrupting her dishwashing to update her on my temperature and just how much like a kitten I really am. I hope I start feeling better soon, this is ridiculous.

Te-eh passed away thirteen years ago today. There is a mass for him at Holy Ghost back in New Mexico that my family is attending. I have lit my candle and it burns for him, steadily. When I go to his grave in Isleta, I feel a strong connection to him, despite hardly knowing him during his lifetime. He and Mama were very close; after her parents' divorce, she was the only girl he kept. He took the boys and Maga took the other girls. Te'eh, may your departed soul rest in peace and the mercy of God.

i don't know my future
after this weekend
and i don't want to
Friday, January 23, 2004
06:21 p.m.

It's Friday night and weather-willing, I leave for Washington D.C. in the morning. There is a snowstorm right now so it might be iffy. I missed a trip earlier this month as well- my USSA Board meeting in Portland. Lilia didn't go either so we caught up over the phone. Congress will be in Pittsburgh this summer so the May board meeting has been switched to Boulder, CO. I haven't been to Boulder since summmer 1997, so I'm pumped. Any chance to be back in the mountains is fine by me.

My big brother is supposedly hanging out with me tonight, but he hasn't called in over an hour. I've kind of given up the ghost and am going to stay in tonight reading my anthropology homework. I got Earth on DVD this week and I want to finish watching it. Fatima and I watched Amélie earlier today; she hadn't seen it before. I hope Casey's okay; he's out driving and the weather is wretched. Fatima and Renée have gone to Target- they're taking the main roads so all should be well, God willing.

Last night after the SCC reunion, David O'Connor and I hung out in the Wunk Sheek cubicle, looking up our friends' arrest records and laughing about being Indians. I love self-deprecating Indian humor. Our history and current reality are so depressing that we must laugh at ourselves to stay alive. Today in Dr. Hill's class, we listened to Bill Miller's Ghost Dance song. We're stuck now, permanently occupied by outside forces. Of course, having been born under this regime, I don't know anything else. I wouldn't exist without it. Neither would the majority of Indians I know. What to do?

I am turning twenty one on Wednesday. I am getting too old. Soon, I will have to be a responsible adult. Perhaps I will even have children in the next few years. The thought is terrifying. Even more terrifying is the idea of being a perpetual student and not making any kind of concrete social change. I must get out of school and do something with my life. Stat.

You catch your breath and winter starts again
And everyone else is spring bound
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
03:00 p.m.

It's my first Madisonian entry of the new year! Wisconsin is extremely windy, though not nearly as cold as Minnesota. I have three American Indian Studies classes, two independent studies in AmInd, and two jobs- for Choice USA and the LGBTCC. I'm enjoying myself and am especially excited about Professor Hill's class. We played a Northwest coast game in class and then introduced ourselves. There was only one girl who was taking the class to learn more about "Native American spirituality." Gag.

It is the week of the re-appearing former flames. Lilia appeared at my work yesterday, requesting a cigarette and a car wash. I took her up to Liz Waters for dinner, followed by a drive about town for a car wash, 14 cokes, two packs of cigarettes, and a $20. We talked and she apologized for how she treated me this summer. Apparently, we're cool now. We'll see. Today, Orelia came by my building to visit. She told me stories of her involvement in the BDSM community. I was falling asleep and after her departure, took a nap. Should I expect Sarah McCarney to come tumbling back into my life tomorrow?

It's pleasant to be back at times. Sara and I went to dinner on Monday night and exchanged our holiday presents. She gave me a little case filled with pens (hurrah!) and a pink and red scarf she crocheted herself; I wear it everywhere. I have a class with Fatima and Renée, which we precede by lunch at my dorm. I have already written my first Observer article. The semester has begun and one must only trudge through four more months before I can once again flee the north.

Today is Casey's birthday; he is 22. He was on the radio this morning, speaking about the casino situation. I tried to listen but the campus center has no radio. After several unfruitful attempts at listening to WORT online, Eric put on gaydarradio, a non-stop stream of house music. Yesterday, Pabitra turned 23. I will be 21 in one week. I feel old, though I am not.

When you're in a room, it's all that I can feel
Get so used to loving what's not real
Tuesday, January 13, 2004
06:19 p.m.

Days in New Mexico start slow, build up, and slow down until once again, I am up late, writing in my journal or on fancy stationery. I drink green tea, dangle my feet at the kitchen table, and scurry (as noiselessly as possible) around the house getting pens, scissors, and my favorite glue stick. I really don't want to leave. I know my stay is drawing to a close because I am running all over town doing all these last minute errands to the Cultural Center, the Indian Hospital, and strangely enough, the Isleta Eagle Golf Course.

The Isleta Pueblo Library has new library cards; I went today and checked out stacks of books for my final projects. I was the first member to pick up my new card, they are beautiful, full-color, with our logo. I love the new check out system too. There's no security system cos, let's face it, who in Isleta would steal books? I also bought two new books on the Pueblo Revolt.

This semester will work, I promised myself it will work. No distractions, just school work, my independent project, and my Choice USA job. Well, there are always unforeseen distractions, but I must stay on my self-imposed semester plans.

Little brother & I love the Lord of the Rings. However, his 13 year old brain thinks it's hilarious to force me and my mother to walk around the house orc-style, or refer to us only as "my preciousssss." I will miss him; I will not miss being an orc.

why do good things never wanna stay?
some things you lose, some things you give away
Saturday, January 10, 2004
11:27 p.m.

My sister and I had a good late-night conversation yesterday, discussing the trials and tribulations of love, love lost, and love hopeful. We're both really into backrubs, though my mom has absolutely forbidden any scented lotion in the house. It's nice, to have this female friend who knows everything about me; there is no hiding from one's sister.

Mama arrived home from Washington D.C. about an hour ago, complete with a suitcase full of presents. She brought the most beautiful fabric for our white lace traditional aprons. We kids cleaned the entire house for her, right down to the abyss which is the laundry/bathroom. I ended up exhausted midday; I climbed the pecan tree, took off my shirt, and basked in the sun.

I am finally settling into the regular routine of our home, the weekly drives to Santa Fe to the Indian School, the endless cycles of dishes, and the tedious process of heating bath water on the stove. We keep the air humidified in our house by placing a tea kettle of water on top of the wood stove. Last night, refilling the kettle, I put out the fire! Everything was damp and I was afraid it would either fill the house with smoke or set it on fire completely. All was righted, however, and I went back to reading one of my mom's bad parenting books and listening to whiny boy music.

Here on the farm, Madison becomes out of sight, out of mind. I am past the annoying week where all I want is get the hell out of Isleta. I am settled and I do not, I repeat, do not, want to leave. Can't we just bulldoze UNM and replace it with UW?

heart to ground
Saturday, January 10, 2004
01:50 a.m.

Home is so beautiful that it makes my heart hurt for all the times I've been away. How did Little Colette sit through high school so far away, with only summers and winter holidays back at home? This is where I belong, under our sky, a perfect gradient of blues. I love the lonely trees, rising brave but hesitant above the seemingly drab brush. I love the stars above me, constant from the lack of pollution, as I lie on the boxcar behind the house under a bluey green serape. I can't write to make home real and it bothers me that my friends in Wisconsin can't understand it.

People here, in New Mexico, the not-Indian ones, don't seem to love it with quite the same fervor. Yes, it's beautiful, but it's also a wasteland. "Land of Entrapment" not "Land of Enchantment." It is enchanting, but it is so real. The bottoms of my feet can feel the earth beating. When I was sick and came back from Madison, it was my home that held me until I healed. I cannot imagine wanting to end up anywhere else.

I cannot fathom not having a homeland, or not being able to go to your homeland, or not caring that one might exist. Isleta, San Felipe, the mountains- they are such a source of strength for me that I do not know how people without such ties can function. I need to return here, for rejuvenation. How can one function without that right, the right to return? If I were to be exiled, it would be homesickness that would kill me over anything else.

My body was made to be here; I hate the winters up north. I don't like inhaling and feeling the insides of my nostrils freezing or scuttling across icy pavement to shorten the time my ears burn from cold. Here, I spend as much time in the light, in the air, as possible. In Wisconsin, I huddle in my room, crouched at the computer screen, loathe to leave even to cross the street to Social Sciences. I love the air! I suppose if I were from a winter people, I wouldn't hate the cold so much, but I am from the desert, where even winters are warm.

Classes begin in ten days. That is vile. I will be in Washington in fourteen days. That is intimidating.

she's afraid of a light in the dark
Wednesday, January 7, 2004
09:32 a.m.

My mother has flown away to Washington, my sister is back at her school in Santa Fe, and my brother is gone for his second day back at school in Los Lunas. I'm here in my mother's room, flipping out because I no longer have any idea where I'm staying while in Portland, nor if anyone will be there to point in the right direction once I land. I have also recently learned that Portland is full of snow and cold, cold wind. Yay!

Whenever my mother goes away, she makes all these little post-it sized notes with her itinerary and hotel information and puts them all over the house and her children's belongings. Then, she creates a 2 page long document on precisely how to care for ourselves during her absence. It is very endearing.

Last night, among many odd things, I dreamt that I was stranded at the Portland airport and my shoes had been stolen. I glanced down at my feet and I wasn't wearing any footwear. In the dream, Portland was warm and sunny and my father lived there. It looked exactly like Saint Cloud, Minnesota.

The only noun in my brother's vocabulary at the moment is "penis." He constantly asks me about my penis, if I want to eat some penis, can I take the penis out to the dumpster, will I go brush my penis? My mother says this is an adolescent boy phase and it will pass if we ignore it. Another brother anecdote: Philip asked me the meaning of "flamboyant" the other day. I explained to which he responded, "Does that mean you are flamgirlant?"

I have less than two weeks left here. That's sad. :(

and the angels ask me to recall
the thrill of them all
i will tell them i remember you
Sunday, January 4, 2004
11:58 a.m.

January 2004 and I'm using a pre-fab template I made over Thanksgiving just in case I couldn't deal with December. It matches one of my favorite LJ icons so I just bumped it up to use in January. The New Year rolled in most dully, my mother insisted on having us all home. She was completely alone last year, with me up in MN and the kids in WI. We watched one of my sister's Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen videos and grimaced at my mom's crab dip. Elisabeth had a bit of champagne.

We had our extended family over for New Year's Day, complete with babies, several kinds of chile, and teary good-byes. My cousin James and his wife Catherine headed north to Indiana so he can attend Notre Dame. My oldest girl cousin, Renita, returned to Chicago with her baby girl. She's expecting again and our family is delighted. My sister and I went north to Santa Fe and San Juan, respectively, for the weekend. I had a wonderful time shopping with my uncle and lying on the couch watching DVDs. My grandmother gave me a darling train case identical (save color) to the one Renée gave George for her chess pieces. I have no idea what to do with it, owning neither cosmetics nor chess pieces.

It's off to Portland for me on Thursday afternoon. I am more jaded now, about USSA, and Panna's sarcastic presence will be missed. I need to be working on my papers. Lunch smells ready however...