So not all of my "to dos" have been finished yet, but many have. I turned in my Pulliam Journalism Fellowship papers and am psyched about that. Just a tad late, but the deadline was extended. I'm also very excited because yesterday I found out that I won a prize in a Hearst Journalism contest. Basically, journalism students from all over the nation submit entries into categories like "in depths," "breaking news," and "features." Mine was my Asperger's Syndrome story from last fall and it won 9th place out of 105 entries. I get a $500 scholarship from them and a $500 grant goes to my journalism school also. Pretty cool. But the coolest part is I found out that getting a Hearst award is the college equivalent of what a Pultizer is to a professional journalist. So it carries weight.
I called my journalism mentor soon after I found out and she said she wanted to e-mail the guy who hired me at the Republic and tell him the good news. So she did and he said he'd put the info in my file. According to my mentor, the Hearst is almost a better ticket into a job than even the Pulliam Fellowship. We'll see what happens, but that was pretty cool...
T-minus 24 hours until I dig into yummy turkey and mashed potatoes. How exciting is that? Okay, not so exciting, but it'll be good food. I'll be spending my first Thanksgiving away from my family and instead with Obadiah's. It should be pretty interesting.
We have a busy BUSY weekend ahead of us. So here's my "to do" list...

Thursday
1. 9 a.m- 10K race (Turkey Trot)--that's about 6 miles for the non-runner...
2. 1 p.m.- Thanksgiving begins in the West Valley with Obadiah's family

Friday
1. Morning-Time to figure out exactly where we're going to register for our wedding
2. Buy bridal shower gift for friend Annie
3. Noon- meet photographer for rescheduled photo session
4. 2 p.m.-scrapbook with Mom

Saturday
1. Paint the hallway in the house
2. 3-5 p.m.-Bridal Shower for friend
3. 8 p.m.-Deadline for SPM article

Sunday
Church
Homework?

Fun fun. But life will begin to wind down here soon, thankfully. Love y'all and Happy Thanksgiving! Say a prayer for our troops and thank our Lord for all the great things He's given us!

Ahh, the "to do" list-Sounds like fun (hah!). Everybody else is doing it, so I guess I will too...

1. Read "Antigona furiosa" (Spanish play)
2. Read critiques of Antigona furiosa (in Spanish)
3. Write Spanish paper on Antigona furiosa-due tomorrow (dang the on-line library for not having the info I needed in time!)
4. Call Cindi and organize time to have her and Ashley try on bridesmaid dresses
5. Read Chicano Studies book
6. Do Chicano Studies assignment for tomorrow
7. Study for Spanish test (which is tomorrow as well, of course)
8. Talk to cops for tips in upcoming article
9. Call the caterer and check on the table covers
10. Call Hannah (obie's sister) and see if I need to take over flower pot project
11. Find more sources for NAFTA article (due Monday)
12. Start Chicano Studies paper (due Tuesday)
13. Take Trevor to RE class
14. Go running
15. Copy articles for Pulliam Journalism Fellowship application
16. Find a picture of myself for same application and copy it
17. Get 3rd recommendation to send in with application
18. Send all materials
19. Check into what I'm going to do to make money over the break
20. Pay the rest of my Mexico trip money
21. Finalize guest list (find out who's planning on coming)
22. Order invitations
23. Make informal announcements for others?
24. Shop for engagement photo session clothes (Thursday)
25. Pick up wedding dress (Sunday)
26. Figure out wedding hair (more practice...)
27. Talk with Republic and figure out Spring internship info.
28. (Misc. things that are bound to come up unexpectedly...)

Oh how I love this weather!!! It's funny because yesterday I was at church and it was all cloudy outside and I could feel myself growing more hyper by the moment. I don't know if it had to do with the homemade frappaccino I was drinking or the fact that it was rainy, but I lean toward the weather factor, personally. It's great!
This morning I was reading in Habukkuk and I was also thinking about a conversation my dad and I had last week. The book talks about Mr. Hab and his vision and talking with God about using evil nation, Babylon to punish Judah (I think that's right) and how terrible the city is; conquering other nations for wealth and on and on. It's a little freaky to think that the U.S. could go down just the same... What would life be like not being on top.
Alrighty, I gotta get going. Lots to do--I have a big interview today for my cover story, a few other phone calls to make for my other stories and other fun homework things to do.

Thursday, November 4th--Two days after Election Day

My media law professor wore black today. Not just a black shirt or shoes--EVERYTHING. His silk tie, which was normally a pallet of colors, was pure black.
He was in mourning. The Daily Show fan had talked ambiguously and sometimes outright about "Dubya" all semester. He said he'd be rejoicing on Thursday if the "righ man" was elected. Today, he was in mourning.
He showed us the Daily Mirror's cover. The London tabloid's face read "how can 59 [million] people be so dumb?" with a picture of our president waving. Clearly, my professor was in agreement. As were many of my fellow-students and my Chicano Studies professor. The girl in my Chicano Studies class, the one who asked us all to register to vote, still had Kerry-Edwards political buttons all over her knapsack.
My media law professor said he doesn't have enough black to wear for four years. The lawyer I worked with on Election Day said she'd move to Canada. The girl in my Ultimate Frisbee class said she couldn't even respect or accept the reelection of President Bush.
Through all of his, all I could think of was "get over it." It's true, I would have been disappointed if Kerry had been elected, however, I would have said "okay; the people have spoken."
I just hope that this hatred against our President subsides and that people will grow up a little and make a difference in the areas they feel are important. Move on and accept it.

Hey Kids!
Hope you're planning on voting or already did. Depending on when you're reading this, it's close to or is Election Day! I'll be working the polls from 5:30 a.m. until 10 a.m. so wish me luck! It'll be very interesting to see and I'll be pretty groggy. Think I'll stop by Starbucks for a Mocha Frappaccino Light--mmmm....
Hasta! Keep the election in your prayers!

So I'm back in the groove of things again. Only took about four days. I had to take a Spanish exam today and I have to still check out how I did on my Media Law test--I'm sure it's horrible. Quite possibly that was the worst test I've taken, and not because it was hard or anything, it was because I was completely unprepared after being swallowed whole by the Presidential Debate monster and other journalistic deadlines. So a test suffered and we'll see how miserably very soon I'm sure. But the Spanish exam faired much better and my essay, which I thought would be a C, turned out to be a B+. Go figure...
And so goes school. I just preregistered for my last semester and here's how the schedule should go: Advanced Spanish Grammar and a class on Alfred Hitchcock films on Monday nights, Rock climbing and Precision Journalism on Tuesdays and Thursdays and just Advanced Spanish Grammar on Wednesday evenings. I'm counting on getting a paid internship so I can fill the other three credits and hopefully get a foot in the door for a job after college. I'll be interviewing for that later on in the month.
Other fun things: today I signed up to help out at the polls on Tuesday the 2nd from 5:30 in the morning until 10 a.m. Part of me is wondering what possessed me to do it, but then the other half knows the motivation--Extra credit; 30 points of it in my Chicano Studies class to be precise. Hey, I'm not going to complain and yes, I know I'm perfectionist geek. It's my only class where the "+" grade is being used. So basically if I can get an A+ in that class, it will seriously help another class--like Media Law! I'm gonna go for it, I mean, what do I have to lose? Anyway it'll be a good experience and something to tell the kids about some day. "Not only did the President of the U.S. speak at my college when I was a senior, but I also helped out at a polling site on the day of the election" I imagine myself telling my kids. I hope I get to tell them it was the year President George W. Bush was reelected...
So that's my story for the day. I'm off for more homework and maybe a little time with my fiance--only 6 months and 19 days left!!!!

Last day in Mexico...

My eyes memorized the streets, the smells, the sounds. "Jesthers," a pasteleria in downtown Monterrey, was buzzing with customers. The store window displayed an endless array of round, white wedding cakes, topped by faux flowers or princess-like girls in colored dresses.
The smell of fresh donuts invades my nostrils the second I step foot through the door. Rows and rows of Mexican pasteries fill a stand in the middle of the shop.
Horacio Montemayor works the counter taking pesos from his customers who fade out the door with bags of empenadas. They're the few that still regularly come. The rest have moved on to American-owned businesses like WalMart, which stock their shelves with Sara Lee ready-made cakes and pies. It's cheaper there and, in some cases, more convenient.
Montemayor's shop boasts "The best quality and the best prices" on small, color-printed business cards. The small bakery is even on the Web.
With profit slowly declining as customers dwindle, Montemayor worries about his childrens' educational futures. How will he pay for college for the 17-year-old and what about the others who are approaching teen-hood?
I thank him for his time and slip out the door, past the old man selling cigarettes and gum, which are haphazardly perched on milk crates. A bus meanders by, leaving a plume of dark brown smoke in its wake. The familiar neon-green taxis whiz by, dodging through traffic.
I stick my arm out with my index finger pointed, the signal most use to hail a taxi. A bright green Volkswagon bug pulls beside the curb and I lean against the window and say "Por favor, al hotel Holiday Inn Express Tecnologico en Avenida Garza del Sur---cuanto cuesta?"
"Treinta pesos" he answers, and I open the door.
Hot air flows through the car from the open windows as the bug turns the corner to leave the downtown area. I think of Montemayor and "American progress" in the world abroad. He's not sure what the future holds, I recall him telling me. Right now he's focused on the things WalMart can't give its customers, like personal attention and relationship. It's the universal conflict in business: big brother corporations putting small entrepreneurs out of business; and, in Mexico's case, sometimes taking local tradition and culture with it.
I don't know what to think, but I see both sides of the equation. Maybe it's the journalist in me.
"Derecho," I tell the driver as he asks me where to go as we reach the intersection near the freeway. My American hotel is straight ahead.

La noche en el Barrio Antiguo

The cathedral stretches skyward in the midnight darkness, and a blue neon cross atop the steeple of the centuries-old church guides us down the street to the discotecas. American music and 20-somethings stream from inside the stone edificios. Hot dog vendors greet civilians, gesturing toward the stacks of bright red meat, covered in cheese and bacon. Some of the students in our group catch a whiff of the Mexican specialty and open their wallets and retrieve their pesos. One of my companeros warns them: you shouldn´t eat those, you´ll get sick. He´s been to Ecuador for two years and Costa Rica for a few months, he should know.
The uneven sidewalks remind me of summertime nights in Nogales, near la frontera. I´m watching my group and watching my steps all at the same time, caught up in the life of the city´s center. My words are few, while my thoughts are many. Oh how I love this.
Native tongue whizzes by my ears. I catch a few of the words. Just enough to taste the conversation. But I fall back into my own bubble as we make our way down the street, dodging other groups or random vendors.
Nueva Luna. No charge for the girls, but 80 pesos for the guys. A better rate than the other place that was charging 150 pesos for each person. According to one of the local college guys, it´s a preppy place--similar to Scottsdale, we assume.
The stage already has a band playing a mix of Spanish-language music. A small group of revelers sway to the salsa beat and I can´t help but sway mine a bit as we make our way upstairs to a large table. In no time, la cerveza is flowing and a bowl-like glass full of strawberry margarita is placed in front of me. It´ll be the only drink for me.
We´re dancing and drinking, simultaneously. Other patrons watch us and I wonder if they´re laughing at our gringo moves or just staring because we´re different. Either way, we ignore it and laugh and dance for hours.
Another band comes on. They cover Maroon 5 and Black Eyed Peas and most of us (the girls) make our way down stairs to dance. A smile was plastered to my face the rest of the night. Dancing, Spanish-language music, friends and margaritas--what a great night. The only thing that would´ve topped it off would have been my fiance dancing with me--but then again, I don´t think he would´ve danced with me anyway. He´s not a fan. And Spanish-language music is not all that great to him either...
A huge bill, few companeros que estaban borrachado later, and we´re leaving the club to go to another. We end up in a gay club. A man offers the girls beers and tequila, but we decline. Don´t know where it came from or what was in it. We leave about 20 minutes after we get there.
Our night ends in a plaza full of smaller clubs. The plaza, que se llama Zocolo, is packed with college-agers and near closing time. The music only reignites my energy and I dance to "Hey ya," and "It´s my perogative"--more American music.
We´re on our way home in the bright green taxi, which zips in and out of traffic, through "suggested" street lanes. We pass the Applebees, the McDonalds, the Chilis and finally arrive at our hotel, the Holiday Inn Express de Tecnologico. Americanization at its finest.
Monterrey: a new Mexico in my eyes, but not one that feels so far from home, unfortunately. My heart still longs for la frontera...

The day before the debate: on campus at ASU

Adorned in "Kerry Edwards" stickers, holding small, blown up balloons of a long-nosed "Bushnoccio," Kerry supporters rally around a CNN stage, hollering at the top of their lungs. "Crossfire" is being filmed.
Across campus, the Student Service Building's lawn is peppered with small white crosses, depicting the lost lives of American soldiers in the Iraq war. Stuffed animals are sporadically placed among the white sea. In contrast, a long piece of bunched cloth lines the sidewalk. It's filled with glass beads and a sign nearby says "each bead represents the life of an Iraqi civilian lost in the war."
While ASU might have been dubbed "active" several months ago by a magazine that encourages protest and activism, the scene today is far from the norm. Has the fervor been ignited solely because we're now in the limelight of national television cameras? Or is it just the excitement of having the two biggest names in the nation coming to our campus?
A sorority girl in my Spanish class wears the Kerry sticker on her left breast. Is she aware of the candidate's stances or is she just following what the rest of her girl friends are doing?
I've seen anger in the impassioned eyes of each group's followers. I've heard obscenities hurled. I've been smacked over the head with political ideologies of my media professors. Fox News: bad. John Stewart: good.
I'm a minority, it seems, on this campus. I have no plumage of "W" posters nor do I leave my opinions in the ears of others. They ask who I'll vote for and I'm truthful. The man who I feel I can most trust, and on this campus, the political underdog, so it seems. They shake their heads and smirk. Man, she doesn't have a clue, they must think to themselves.
Streets will be closed tomorrow. I pray that I'll be able to park in the structure I paid so much money for so that in the evening, I can ask our university's president "was it worth it? Did the debate change your mind?"
"Who are you going to vote for in the upcoming election?"
I'm sure he'll try to avoid the question. Maybe comment that both candidates did exceptionally well, that the university did a fabulous job of pulling this off and it will once again show the world that ASU is an institution that's not all about making the top ten list of the biggest party schools in the nation. No, if anything he will turn to me and say "this is one of the greatest universities in the nation and now they'll all know it."
But things aren't always as they seem, Mr. Crow. Ask the girl in my Spanish class to compare the immigration policies of the two candidates. Ask the avid Kerry supporter with his oversized sign what his candidate of choice's plan for Iraq is or how Kerry will really take care of taxes or the deficit. Ask them. Do they know? Or is it all a fascade with a bandwagon appeal backed by a stick on a slippery slope.
Sure we look good, Mr. Crow. We've had two years to prepare for this day.

Well, I have a few minutes on here and feel like slacking a bit, so here we go. An update on my life, which has been a bit chaotic so basically, nothing out of the ordinary for me!
I found out I only have 6 more credit hours left to complete my degree. So I have two mandatory classes to take next semester (which are both my choice, by the way) and then I have to figure out what to take with the other 6 credit hours. I'll probably fill them up with PE classes and maybe a Chicano Studies class again. Everything's been so interesting in that class. Anyhoo, it'll be good for me next semester not only because it'll be a bit more relaxed, but I'll also have more time to focus on wedding stuff, which is going really well by the way. Our only issue now is that we have to go back over our invitation list and narrow it down to 160 people. Do you have any idea how hard that is? 160 people--geez. I think we'll be doing that this weekend, so it's sure to be a bit stressful. But once that torture is overwith, then we'll be able to keep moving. But thus far, wedding dress and veil are ordered, caterer and menu is set, flowers are in the works, photographer is set, DJ is set, cake is set, reception site and wedding site set. Now it's all about the details, which is my personal favorite.
School's going well, as I stated before somewhat. This semester I have the lightest schedule, however it's packed with reporting for my depth reporting class and my job with the school magazine. I'm really enjoying the magazine and I'm now debating and trying to figure out a game plan for who I'm going to intern with and try to get on board with after I graduate. It's a tough decision because I love writing, but I'm trying to narrow it down to specifically what kind of writing I want to do. I may get stuck at the daily for a while, but we'll see. I don't think I want to pursue straight up magazine stuff because typically there's not a lot of investigating that goes on with that. I dunno--we'll see where God leads me! :)
I should probably get going, but keep the faith, all and I miss y'all.

Hello all!
I'm recovering from a cold right now, isn't that fun? Everyone's getting sick. In fact, I haven't seen Obadiah since Sunday for that very reason and there's no telling if I'll even see him tonight. Poor thing, his birthday (the big 24) is tomorrow and he'll be sick for it. No fun. Anyway, my immune system's probably dragging, so I'm almost positive if I spent time with him, I'd probably catch the miserable cold he's got. So this week hasn't been the most fun because, well, you know, I like seeing him during the week and 5 minute conversations every day just doesn't seem to cut it sometimes. But I'm surviving; we're surviving...
Last night I had an interesting experience. I've made a new friend and her name is Chelsea. She works with me at the school magazine and she specializes in the underground music scene. Anyway, she knows practically all the bands that come through Phoenix and last night she called me up to see if I wanted to go with her to see a band she'd just written about. I was like "okay, sure. Something to do other than homework(which I've been holed up in my house doing every night before going to bed early to kick this sickness..)" So I met up with her and we went to the Marquee Theatre in Tempe.
Well, we walk up and we get our free tickets and our backstage pass and we have to stick the sticker on. However, on the black sticker is a picture of President Bush with a giant red "X" through his face. That's when I realize that I'm about to enter the Rock Against Bush Tour concert. Yikes. Talk about feeling like a minority! But hey, it's stupid to just shun anyone who doesn't believe the same things I do, so I shrugged it off and went inside with her.
It wasn't too political until the headliner Anti-Flag came on and started spewing obscenities about the president. Hmm...what was that song they wrote called...? Oh yah, "die for your government" and another was "F*** police brutality," etc. Then of course you got the whole "he lied to us about WMD," and I think one of the lyrics to a song about him was "turncoat, liar..." you get the drift.
Just looking out over the crowd of kids flashing the "bird" at the sound of our president's name and the anger and hostility in their voices and eyes, man, it was crazy.
So I kept my little conservative mouth shut and just soaked it in. No use picking a fight with a punk rocker in tight pants and a mohawk...
That was my "exciting" night last night. I'm sure you're all jealous. Nonetheless, it was an experience albeit slightly unnerving.
Well, better get going and take care of some of my chores for the day.
Hasta, gente!

A mi me disgusta mi computadora!!!
Estoy frustrada con tecnología.
Siempre, cuando lo necesito trabajar,
No lo trabaja.
En este momento, mi cabeza,
Cuando lo necesito trabajar,
No lo trabaja :)
Tengo "senioritis,"
Soy una floja
Quiero reportar sobre muchas cosas,
Quiero leer algunos libros
Pero no quiero tomar mis examenes
Y no quiero levantar muy temprano por mis clases.
Quiero aprender sin el trabajo.
Quisiera viajar cerca del mundo,
Vea los lugares de los ancianos
Y grita "mira! El mundo fantastico!"
Pero no.
Estoy aquí con mi computadora.
Necesito escribir un ensayo sobre un cuento.
Tengo que entregarlo mañana.
No quiero hacerlo.
Ahh..Tecnología...

Estoy viviendo la vida loca.
Escriba! Escriba! Escriba!
La vida normal.
Lea! Lea! Lea!
Que día, dice la cabeza.
Un día que está llenado con responsibilidades
Necesito ir aquí, ahí
Como siempre, no estoy terminado.
Otra cosa necesito hacer aquí, ahí.

Anduve al aéropuerto con mi mama,
Me dijo "te amo," sus maletas circa de sus pies.
Te amo, mi mama.
Ella es la más importante; también mi familia; mi novio...

Mañana será otro día
Y me encontraré las otras responsibilidades
Con energía, con mi Dios
Mi espiritu estará bien y también mi salud.
Mañana será otro día.

So really right now I should be writing my story for State Press Magazine, but I'm jumping on here briefly to send a link out to all y'all who are interested in reading the story I worked so hard on---it's about prostitution and Apache Blvd. The area most effected is next to campus--a 2-mile span. Anyhoo, hope you get a chance to read it because I worked hard on it.
Hasta

http://www.asuwebdevil.com/issues/2004/09/16/arts/681050

Just a little note for y'all..
Getting really busy with school and newspaper stuff, so forgive me if you don't read anything new for the next week. Don't forget about me though! I'm sure I'll have a million things to write on here after my article is finally published and my trip to Monterrey, Mexico nears. Until then, mis amigos, gracias por su tiempo...
Hasta luego.

Heather...Again

It was Friday night and I stood by, waiting as they questioned the man. The night was warm, the sky was black. I had been silently praying off and on throughout the previous evening and throughout my day. She hadn't left my mind. I had never felt a burden like that before.
I took in my surroundings. The beat up cars parked several yards away. The grass, parched by the glare of the Arizona sun. A can of tuna resting on a concrete ledge, partially eaten, covered in ants. No wonder the strays were fat, I thought.
The apartments were mostly dark and quiet and a few residents ambled about. I don't remember their faces.
But I do remember her.
At first, I thought I was imagining things. I blinked a few times and peered at her. It'd be strange if it didn't end up being her, I thought to myself.
But it was.
Heather? I asked.
She looked at me, studying my face, trying to recognize.
It's me. Jen. From the other night? I said.
I was in disbelief.
Oh hi! she said, her thin arms wrapping around me as we embraced.
I couldn't believe it. Here she was, miles away from where we had first met only 24 hours earlier.
That's so funny. I came here on a whim to see my friend, she said.
I told her I was a writer at ASU. Just working on a story.
She had gone to school for a little while before everything started falling apart, she said. She wanted to be a photojournalist, maybe do something in the music scene.
I didn't press her for details. Lord, if it's meant to be, I know you'll make something happen. But I won't stop praying.
She smiled after she got my number. I didn't get hers. She doesn't have a permanent phone number. She stays in motels.

I was and still am completely dumbfounded by the experience. It further affirms in my mind that there is no such thing as a coincidence. No way. In this situation, how could there be?

Heather--j.g 9/2/04

What have I to offer
To the person who has none?
What is it I can do
To glorify the Almighty's Son?
I complain I have no money
While I spend it on a meal,
And I cry out for companionship
When all I have to do is kneel.

But she, who sits on the curb
Has no one, or so it seems,
She asks for spare change
In a desperation that demeans.

What brought her to this spot this night
Near the convenience store door,
Crumpled in a small ball
Not knowing what life is for?
Did she have a family?
A mom or a dad?
What brought her to this station
Sitting all alone and sad?

The words are halting
What am I to do?
Christ, what have I to say,
To bring this girl to you?

I didn't expect her to be open
Or for her even to agree,
But there she clutched my hand
And I wished she could be free.
The piercings, the tattoos,
I'd been around them for a while,
I used to judge those who had them
Maybe give them a run-of-the-mill smile.

Her blue eyes lined with black,
Looked back at me with surprise
Her tall skinny frame sat close,
As she bent her head and closed her eyes.

You gave me peace,
The words quite elementary,
And as I drove away,
Things I could've said came to me.

A warrior of prayer I am not,
At times I utter the same old thing,
And in that time when I was called,
I waited for the words that you would bring.

Lord, give me more like that
Let me give it all to them,
Lord, I have so much, I just can't stand it,
I don't even want to pretend!
I get caught up in my own world
Holding onto my own wealth,
And I dare not venture out into the night,
For my own safety and my health.

But Lord, you're my protector,
It's all in your guiding hands,
If this is not where you want me
Send me off to distant lands!
If it is here that you want me to stay
Provide me with more like her,
And I will do what you want
Even if a simple prayer is all I have to offer.

I'm still dealing with hardcore feelings that I would liken to homesickness. You know the feeling. You're away from home, maybe it was when you went to church camp when you were little or the time you were separated from your fiance for three weeks while he wandered around Ireland (oops, another personal experience...). Anyway, you know the feeling. Pit of your stomach, meloncholic, I-just-want-to-be-back-in-my-comfort-zone sort of feeling. It makes absolutely no, I mean NONE, no sense to me why I feel this way about Mexico and I'm sure you all are sooo sick of hearing about it from me by now, but I feel like I need to vent.
In my Chicano studies class today we had to read a very interesting article. One of the founders of The Association for Hispanic Journalists (I believe that's the name), wrote an article in which he addressed the fact that he calls himself "Hispanic" though his parents are both clearly white. Very controversial. He worked in Mexico, he marched for Mexican-American movements, and for this he calls himself "Hispanic." Interesting, huh?
We had a very VERY interesting debate in class and about 99% of the class felt that was wrong. It was like someone saying they could make themself Italian just by going and living in the country. There's so much more to the debate, but wow, it makes you think.
I definitely wouldn't ever call myself "Hispanic" just for loving the culture, the country and the language, though the language often times confounds me. (However, grasping a language was never thought to be an easy thing to accomplish nor meant to be, especially considering God separated us with the language barrier.) But for me it's all the more satisfying to be able to break that barrier and communicate with even more people and learn more about people who have led completely different lives, hold many different values and celebrate, interact and mourn differently than me. It's a celebration of diversity and taking lessons from others and learning that your way is not always the "right way" and that maybe, just maybe, there isn't a "right way" to do things.
My soul still hungers for my Mexico/border time. To wind through the roads, talk with the people and take in the atmosphere. Gosh.
I keep wondering when the desire will go away or at least dissipate, but it hasn't. Something's hooked me and I can't logically figure it out. I'm sure I've written this a million times, so here goes a million and one; I have no freakin' clue why I love the Mexican culture so much. Why? And who chose this? I certainly couldn't have forseen this happening, especially if you had talked to me in the fall of 2001, shortly after high school graduation, starting my first semester of my required foreign language; Spanish. I had thought to myself "well, clearly French wasn't all that beneficial to me because I never use it, but Spanish, yah, I'll use Spanish. I'll get my 4 classes done and know a sufficient enough amount of the language to get by." Little did I know that a mission trip in the fall to Hermosillo would change all that...
I saw the people. I spoke with them, my broken tongue and sheepish smiles amid nervous, embarrassed laughs. It was hard. And I craved more. I wanted to tell them about God, about the happiness I had, about what had changed me for the better. But I realized that I would not only need to overcome language barriers, but cultural ones as well. When will the cravings be satisfied? I'm not sure.
I'm studying Spanish literature right now in my SPA 325 class, however, what I should be studying is mi Santa Biblia so I can learn the Word.
Most importantly, in regards to my first trip to Hermosillo, I learned to love someone I couldn't even understand. I realized my inability to help and anything I was able to communicate had to come from God. It taught me dependence, though even now I strive for more knowledge so I can depend on myself. But as with many things I'm learning, it will never be perfect. I have to trust.
So who knows what comes from my love, the special afinity I have for Mexico, especially the border, but I'm willing to go where God wants me.
I thought I left my heart in Hermosillo, but now I realize that it's just in Mexico. I just need to figure out how I'm going to get it back or if I even can...

Nogales: Mi amor---j.g. 8/30/04

It washes over me,
The nostalgia, the memories,
The dividers, the flood lights,
The smell of the air, drenched in los perros calientes.
The lines of cars, wading into the gaps,
The begger and her small child, the trash bags.
The ribby dogs digging through half-eaten remnants on the ground,
The men sleeping in the parks, under trees, on benches.
Filth, poverty, hunger and pain
Sitting on a balcony, eating, enjoying the rain.
A city full of life and death
Drugs and dreams.
The other side of the world
On the other side of the fence.
I long to venture back
Breathe in the taste of the air,
The sounds of the streets
The sights of the city
And the eyes of the dreamers.
Nogales, la frontera
Estas en mis suenos
En mi corazon
Y por siempre en mi vida.
Te amo, mi amor, Nogales,
Nunca voy a olvidarte
Siempre estas en mis suenos
Siempre estas en mis pensamientos.

Child's Song--jg 8/26/04
I can feel you creeping back in,
The walls tumbling down along with the sin.
I turned my face and walked away,
Feeling burdened, unable to pray.
I knew you were there standing right beside me,
Waiting for me to return from the blindness to again see.

This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine...

The child's song echoes again in my brain
Oh to be back in that place, in that time again!
My biggest problem back then was sharing,
Sitting in Sunday school just learning about caring.
Believing the teacher when she said Jesus loved me
That he died on the cross to set me free.
Free from what? me, the child, asks
Free from all the household tasks?
I'm sure my teacher only smiled and told me "from sin"
But how could my small mind understand or even begin?

This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine...

So easy to believe that there's more out there than what He gave me,
Wondering what I'm missing out on, unable to see.
As He again enters, I rejoice with each new victory,
I cry to him with happiness as I relearn his story.

This little light of mine
I'm gonna let it shine...

There is hope.