Unceremoniously, I step over the body…

My body.

I stare down into my eyes, lacking any expression,

Void of interest…of anything. 

Delivered by the rain, this gritty gift,

Forcing inner existence…

Doesn't get any easier,

As I step over another body,

This one my one, sin piernas.

A body sin alma, struggling to find my way

Anywhere.

The rain brings no more than ripples,

giving my face undeserved and disgusting

Peaks and valleys, remincient of 

Heaps of litter, who's constant ebbs

And flows keep all decency at a distance.

I put my knee on the cement,

Immediately the damp reaches my skin,

I stare into my eyes and listen to the drips,

Not only does inspiration escape me, but a 

Desire to live has gone the way of my rounds

Through the barrel and into the flesh of another,

Taking them with me, deeper and deeper.

Bodies everywhere, all mine, all parts of me…

A desperate search for the body where I truly rest,

Eternally.

Otra Poema Sobre La Lluvia

My knee rests in

The ever growing puddle. 

From behind me I hear

The solders descending the valley

Into my canopied labyrinth.

From above,

Gotas de agua dulce try

And penetrate my position through my umbrella

Of leaves and twigs.

My M1 still works when wet,

But she shows her age as

The moisture makes her moody

And unpredictable. 

It's best to stay buried

Behind my wall of violent

Explosions of water

On Nature's green drum.

I'd like to see Dr. Goodall,

Live amongst us.

Could she help us communicate?

Maybe,

This endless barage of bullets,

Bigotry, and blood can give

Heed to the strength 

Of the innocence and purity,

Cleaned away by la lluvia.

Why Write?!

Me quemo por dentro

Adentro de me cuerpo

Todos de mis organos

Estan derritiendo

Cuando ven tus cinturas

Moviendo, expresando tu personalidad

Con el ritmo de la musica

Estoy perdiendo

Alla…aca…alla…aca

Siempre buscando tu ritmo

Me digo que es suerte

Bailar contigo

Eres mi vino

El liquido que quiero

Tomo con passion

Tiene el sabor que no puedo desfrutar

Como el vino

Sus años me asuste, justamente

La vida, simplemente

Es un sucesion acontecimientos

Estoy agradezco de conocer alguien

Estoy suerte que conocer a ella

Y tu me soportas

Como me puedo decir gracias

Porque pienso en ti

Why do you make me want to write my feelings? You bastardo!


Random factoid: I love Spanish!


La Cultura Cura

Me Quemo Por Dentro

Music, What a special lady

Thanks to NPR and their blog Alt.Latino (http://www.npr.org/series/alt-latino/), I have been discovering some amazing and exciting new Spanish, the language, music. It all started with Bomba Estereo, who's video I will include in this blog. They use beats and traditional musical instruments, guitars and the like, along with electronic influences, and a interesting vocal styles to create a unique a beautiful sound, that I'm learning is quite Colombian. This is perfectly timed, as I have tickets to Revolcion Rokkera (http://revolucionrokkera.com/) here in Salinas for this upcoming Saturday, Sep. 10th. While I don't know much about the bands I'm going to see, the concert will give me a chance to dive deeper into the latino musical scene.

I am loving the use of modern musical techonolgies while harping in our cultural traditions, such as electronica meeting salsa or cumba, or even tango like with the band Otros Aires. Much like Bomba Estereo, Systema Solar is a colombian band bringing a modern dance feel to older more traditional dance beats and rhtyms, through the gengre jumping and history within modern songs I am able to discover a vast time span of latino music with just a few albums.

Other bands on my radar are: Miguel Campello, a voice so haunting it'll put hair on your chest and ten make you cry so your tears fall on your now hairy chest (which can be wierd for our lady readers), Rita Indiana y Los Misterios, who fall into dancey rythms like Bomba's, Natalia y Maka, who are like the Meg and Dia of latin america...among others...I also really like what I've heard from DJ Gekko Jones.

Random Factoid: I hate Lane Kiffin, USC looked so one dimensional yesterday, I'm suprised they actually managed to win.

La Cultura Cura

You! Me! Dancing!

Before one can dance, one must find the rhythm...

I've been in Salinas for 10 days now. And. I'm. Loving. It!

I made the trip with my father and we arrived at my apartment, which is much bigger I expected. As we are located on the 2nd floor, I've got super high ceilings. My room is great, rommate is cool, and I'm loving working in the after school program...finally, finalizing my sub stuff.

I am already part of the Salinas family, without even trying, I've done more social gatherings, in more places, than I did all year in Claremont. All of my friends are mexican, and they have deemed my Spanish strong enough to use Spanish to their hearts content around me....that being said, I'm getting plenty of great practice with the official language here, Spanglish. Film festivals, amazing mexican dance clubs...I love it. I feel at home, out of my comfert bubble.

I had my CalStateTEACH orientation yesterday and I start doing work for it tomorrow. Unlike my USC program, there are not live classroom discussions online, but just a very well organized website that organizes a decent work load. I do have to say that I prefer the CST website to the USC website....I'll have more to say once I really find my routine.

Random factoid: Currently loving Damages on Netflix!!!!!

La cultura cura

Stranger On A Foriegn Shore

“And you can’t even begin to believe

There’s so many bridges engulfed in flames behind me” –Ben Gibbard

Once again, the train of thoughts in circling the lining of my skull must make a pit stop and drop another entry of the random babblings that is my blog. The splatter of word vomit on the page, distributing matches the pattern of word vomit issuing from my mouth these days.

Confucius say!: Why use the end to start? (All quotes resembling persons live or dead are unintended and incidental)

Ode To The Futbol Jersey

Ode to that guy in the soccer jersey

Brightly colored

Escudo, living a distant land…not his land

Jersey not just worn, protected.

The jersey acts as a second skin,

The jersey lives on an island, feed by fish

The skyscrapers in the distance do not represent dreams

They represent distance, not progress, distance.

Distance from all that is

Humanity derived from a stubborn land

A lifestyle fading away into existence

All’s fare in jersey

The dirt accumulates as the day’s chores pass

Not a look, nor any appearance of glamour.

Days upon days, continue,

As the jersey remains bonded to its master.

If cloth hits dirt,

Foreign fingers find, fishing fresh

Clothes, to protect against the world, their chores

Water brings life, to the man…and his jersey.

Random factoid: Bach's cello suite #1 touches me on a deep level.

La Cultura Cura

Hasta Suena La Campana

To The Beat of the Creole (Al Compas Del Criollismo p. 13)

Conserve the tradition

Always the same suffering

Is the life in the gutter

And to die of starvation

To the beat of the Creole

Old, enclosed, neighborhoods,

Barrios Altos, Chirimoyo;

Limas most Creole,

The most select in Peru.

From your solemn past

And with clear inspiration

You impose a mission

That you give, no longer sell

And can only pretend to

Conserve the tradition.

In the sixteenth century

You drained your purse

Commending the Spanish,

Slave to every viceroy.

Passed the time, it was the law

Forged in your heroism:

Century and a half of civic-mindedness

Your children sing and write,

And fix, how they live,

Always the same suffering.

Poor neighborhoods, always lacking,

Neighborhoods crying out for justice

For the paradox they call

Barrios Altos…barrios “Altos”…

Rise up, get to work,

Look what happens in Ancon

And you will see your inspration

Stained of “whiskey and soda”

While all of your life

Is the life of the gutter.

They are the court of a king

Worse than Philip II,

The world is just a dollar

And exploitation is law.

Enslaving the flock

Hiding in your song.

More if you sing of rebellion

Well, you can –so close-

Becomea Felipe Pinglo Alva

To die of starvation.

Barrios Altos of misery

With a tradition of creating orphans,

Salt of your begging

And show your serious face.

Who gives you the Iberian “gentlemanhood?”

Who gives you imperialism?

Come with me, right now,

And Our Revolution

Builds a new nation

To the beat of the Creole?...

In honor of Peru's fiestas patrias, I have poorly translated another poem de Nicomedes Santa Cruz. A poem of strength in the face of poverty and racism.

This poem puts many ideas into words, thoughts I have thought and embodies many of the reasons why I am so attracted to Salinas and Peru. Both areas are poor and struggle finding a stronghold of mondern ideas of success without losing their tradition. Both provide a community, a flare for life, and a type of person I have not found anywhere else. Hence, my desire to live in both places.

I just returned from a information gathering trip to Salinas...what I learned is that I will be living with a fellow teacher in a 2 bed room apt, and thankfully, he is doing the looking since I still have to coach at the gym for two more weeks, I have an appointment to finalize everything for setting me up to work at Alisal on the 18th of august, and hopefully when I drive up for that appointment, I will also be moving. As for work, my former vice principal, from my first year in AmeriCorps, has been appointed principal at another school in the district has offered me a job in the after school program, and I will be using my connections at FP to get days subbing as well....siento correcto, todos los pedasos de la rompecabaeza estan cayando en su propia lugar.

Random factoid: I ate the 3 best meals of my life while in Salinas, technically I ate them in Chular.

La Cultura Cura

Canto A Mi Peru

July-Month of months....hot, festive, independent!
Hoy dia, July 19th, 9 days faltan between hoy and Peruvian indpendence, July 28th.
To me, el 28 de julio, is more important as the street I walked on my way to Uriel Gracia to spend afternoons with my amazing students, but to a nation, both young and old...it is a day to rejuice.

In honor of Peru, I have decided to butcher one of the Peru's most talented pens in Nicomedes Santa Cruz, poeta extrodiare!

This is my first attempt at translating anything, and of course, I choose a poem with more heart and soul than a baptist church in Atlanta, GA!

Song for My Peru

I have faith in destiny

Destiny of my Peruvian motherland

For humane quality of life

For my peasant brother,

Who, in spite of the difficult road

Of ridicule and exploitation

Keeps his heart intact

Of a strong and booming race:

Resurrects from a daily demise,

Free, even in his oppression.

I have faith and hope

In a happy future,

And so much love for my country

Because I have confidence in her.

When the needle of the scales

Is inclined towards the headwinds

I know it is only a temporary factor

Of an absurd economy.

Soon, there will be no tyranny

Nor agrarian stockpiling…

I have faith in the future

Because the man of tomorrow

Will enjoy a healthy life

Forged in the bleakness of the present

He will stand on solid feet

Drawn from a fraternity:

His weapon, the truth

His delight in the knowledge,

His commitment has caused

His triumph, liberty…

I have faith in Peru

Which heads towards the integration

Without discrimination

All men and women speak in “tu”…

To the mochica in Monsefu,

Until the Quechua in Paucartambo,

On to the limeños in Malambo

And to the shipibo from Loreto

I embrace you with respect

My bowlegged brotherhood of love…

Random factoid: I am excited to begin my exploration into Afro-Peruvism!

La Cultura Cura

[ insert title]

What day is today? Wait, why do I care? One day just blends into tother.... each days I spend hours waiting for "it" to start, for what? I work out everyday....but tags usually over by 11 am...then the hours pass before I go to work, at a job I couldn't be more indifferent about. Then....nothing. sure I distract myself from ennui by watching movies and tv shows about other people's ennui....

Each day I do nothing I feel.as if the things I care about are from a different me....a me wit goals...now I tu to keep my brain from dripping out my.ears by trapping entertaiment from people who actually have lives....

Random factoid:............... can't really be bothered to think of one........

La Cultura Cura

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Because The Status is Not Quo

I am come to realize that everything we do, school, work, friends, is one of many worlds with function. We can have multiple munditos, and be different people within each, but that is all the world really is, a series of small communities we choose to adhere to the same rules as the rest of the group.

Unless you're me...where I reside, I am the leader of the confused. I used to be a student, accepting that identity, until that identity kicked me out. So, I have just been floating in nothingness...doing, as you'd expect...nada. I have been applying to new small worlds, on a belt, if you will. I was hoping to put all three worlds, i.e. grad schools, in front of me and make a decision. But as of yet, I have only heard from Pepperdine, and I have to commit to them in a week, if I don't hear from anyone else...or....or, with a capital OR, do I let the deadline pass and wait for the other schools to get back to me and enter their small world, assuming they let me in.

Random Factoid: Drinking hot coffee in 90 degree whether is only done by a strong man....ergo, ipsofacto...me

La Cultura Cura

Salinas, Elite Gymnastics, and my New Honda!

I have had my 2011 Honda Fit for 7 days and it already has 600+ miles on it…consider it broken in. My Fit came at a perfect time, just days before my mini-vaycay up to Monterey. I was thinking that my thoughts were getting in the way of me thinking clearly. I got two nights in Monterey, giving me the option to just enjoy the nature beautiful that is beautiful, if not boring Monterey…but more importantly it gives me access to the roots of my passion, Frank Paul in Salinas. Luckily I got some tax money so I was able to buy a nice hotel room…however, I forgot the layout of Monterey and instead of getting a hotel by the beach, I got a hotel by the mall…keep in mind, I can still see the water…not all bad.

I have never done a drive to anyone farther than LA by myself, so this whole thing was a new adventure…keep in mind, I can fly to Peru alone, so I can drive to Monterey. The drive was only really notable for two things: 1. I got to see the oil rig field that looks like baby dinosaurs have been enslaved, and I tried to go up highway 1, but there had been a landslide and lovely California hadn’t put up a detour so I had to back track 30 miles to get back on track.

This is not my first trip back to the 831 after having spent a year here, but much like Peru. I am not visit, trying to grasp at something old, I find myself, a new person, experiencing novel familiarity.

Day 2: I have a lame breakfast at a lame restaurant where the waitress didn’t give me coffee and wouldn’t take me check…but then I got to sit in traffic for way too long. Finally I ended up at Frank Paul, I was nervous that everyone I had known there, had moved on or wouldn’t remember me. Some of the kids recognized me, and the teachers where great too. I was sad because most of the kids I knew where on a fieldtrip to San Francisco…so I will have to make a second trip tomorrow…which is on the agenda.

The main highlight of my day was when I visited the gym I coached at for a few months. I went in just to see if I remember anyone, and if they remembered me. I hadn’t anticipated my reaction to my visit. First thing I see are three coaches I really liked, we said our hellos and then I was bombarded with a hug by one of the team girls. I had known a few of the team girls, but they all left for college. I forgot about the younger ones…once I looked at her though, I completely remembered her. I had only planed on stopping by for about an hour…when in fact I stayed for almost 4 hours. I spent most of my time enjoying talking to the team coach and helping coach the team girls on some of their skills. I didn’t want to leave, a feeling I didn’t expect to feel. I forgot how much I liked this gym, and the team coach, and coaching team….I am more connected to Salinas than I thought…which still confusing me, because living here is hell…but what do I do? My heart wants what it wants…which is? Who knows!

ONE WEEK LATER:

My Salinas trip had the impact I was looking for. My mindset has changed, not drastically but enough to have cleared my head and given me a new focus. Subbing at Alisal and coaching at EGA…sounds pretty good. If I found an online program, then I could be felixble with my schedule…however, who knows…life is stressfull. Applications are stressful….stupid Pearson testing is stressful, takes 3 weeks to get my scores that I got a year ago…why not just post them online?!

Random Factoid: I got a fun visit from my cool Aunt this week.

La Cultura Cura

Vamos A Ver

Estabamos marchando
Llegabamos a un puente
Abajo de una cascada
El agua pegaba a mi pelo
Tambien, a mi arma
Estaba luchando
Debia proteger mi arma
o mi cuerpo?
Cual era mas importante
por nuestra revolucion?
Asi es la vida
mi mida
mi lucha....
soy ingrediente



How should I tell one day from tother? The series of consonants and vowels that preside the suffic -day, carry no meaning but to keep the calender companies in business. My work schdeudle make play a larger role in giving meaning to each individual day as significant, but being as that I don't like my job, nor care about what happens there, I find myself, without school...without a reason to differentiate between.

Do I strive to find a job so that I can move out of my parents house and live my own life? Living on my own won't give me meaning. I don't dare begin to shift my focus to " getting by." I'm still in between bland white middle American life and a piece a paper that lets me get the job of my dreams. Waiting, that's all i'm doing, and not the kind of waiting that pays with tips.

If I get into a school it won't be until September....I can't just pass the months in between as if they're just time..but each day is an opportunity...however, I spend mine seeking distractions from my own thoughts and wishing things were different', neither of which are positive ways to spend my days. Change is needed...but how? Really, what's to do?

Random factoid: The latest book in the Mercy Thompson series is by far the worst of them all

La Cultura Cura

Grammatical Brutus

I feel as if I am going though a break up. Not just any break up though, like I've been dumped. Not just dumped, dumped by a super model. I have tasted super model dating (ew, tasted) and now have to go back down to my league.

On Friday, after a great run, I get a phone call from my advisor at USC. I am not initially alarmed for the call but after she left a message about me returning the call and use of the words, "important," and "urgant." I had to call her back. She informed me that I had recieved a B-in on of my classes at SC. I knew I would get that grade (in my other class, I got an A) and didn't see why that was phone call worthy. She then informs me that due to conditions placed upon my acceptance to the university I cannot get any grade lower than a B. I was unaware of these conditions, but that was my fault, I did not fully read my intent to enroll paper work. Well, shit. After throwing an object or two, and wiping the tears from my eyes. I just get in my car and drive. I wind up in Pasadena. During the car ride I thought about all of the things I had: A five year plan, a place in one of the best teacher education programs in the country, and a future. I also thought about all of the things I have left: A part time job....and no place to call my own. That makes me a barely employed 24 year old living with his parents...yep, epically pathetic. After my stint and ULV and USC, I find myself having spent $26,000 on grade school and absolutely nothing to show for it. I have passed all of the required tests to be credentialed but now I have to apply to new programs, many of the deadlines for fall start dates have passed, and retake the same boring classes that I mastered in AmeriCorps, even before I started grad school. Experience, test scores, talent...all of these things mean nothing if you don't have a piece of paper that says you sat through boring classes learning very little and spending very much. I'm far from happy about the situation...well, really, everything. I'm incredibly jaded with teacher education programs. I remember now that UCLA and SU denaied my last year and I was forced to take the ugly girl to prom by going to ULV...after I made out with the hot girl, USC, for a month or so, I now have to go looking for another troll of an education program that will accpt my history of failure.

On the outside: I find myself telling people that I will get over it. I just have to keep moving and keep trying, trying to find light in the dark.

HOWEVER....

On the inside: I am living in a pit of self dispar and depression. I cannot be left alone with my thoughts too long or I'll go crazy. I'm trying to keep constant stimuli in front of me for distraction, but sadly I can't read yet because my mind takes over and I get even more down on myself. I am not mad at me or SC....I just feel worthless.... I feel like the cheerio left floating in the milk after all the other cheerios have been bite, eaten....BITE ME!

I feel as if the dash at the end of the B-, is like a grammatical Brutus stabbing me in the back, ruining everything.

Random factoid: So far, the only plan I've liked is just buying a one way ticket to somewhere in South America and never looking back...sadly, I'm not that implusive.


La Cultura cura...even this

The Hypocrisy of My Habits

"Imagine if I had to console,
The family of those slain,
I slain on game consoles,
I aim I hold, right trigger to squeeze,
press up and Y one less person breathe,
B for the Bombs press pause for your moms,
Make the room silent, she don't approve of violent games,
She leaves resume activity,
Start and blew hearts with poor harsh wizardry,
On next part I insert code
To sweeten up the little person' murder workload
I tell him he work for
CIA with A
A operative, I operate this game all day
I hold a controller connected to the soldier
With weapons on his shoulder he's only seconds older than me
We playful but serious, now keep that on mind
for on line experience" -Lupe Fiasco, Little Weapon


There is a very large range of emotions I feel when I watch an action movie. I was reminded of all of these feels when I watch Battle: L.A. At times I found myself teary eyed in the middle of a "man moment," the moment in every war film where the soldiers get sensitive when the talk about the pain and the glory of combat. I cheer for the elimination of the enemy, I mean I am American...everyone is the enemy. I am sad when a character begins to push up daisies...though in Battle: L.A. the daisies where more like the rumble from 110 freeway. Still in the fictional absurdity that is every blow up Michael Bayesque film, I am disgusted by the use of violence to solve the problems. More importantly, the glory of battle...or of the kill.

Its funny I mention killing...well funny in the worst sense possible. I got to start my day off with a kill. As my dog and I walked across the front yard, I noticed a small bird just relaxing on the edge of a planter. With monster like quickness and ferocity, my dog snatched the bird off of the edge of the planter. I can't say why the bird didn't fly away, but for whatever reason, it just sat there and was taken by my dog. With shock and horror, I pry the bird out of my dog's mouth. The poor bird though, is no bueno. I take a rock and have to make the bird stop suffering from no bueno, I had to make the bird no mas. My jaw down on the floor, I am unable to find feeelings, emotions, or thoughts to characterize the way I feel about my actions. My dog and I turn into Bonnie and Clyde, a murderous duo. If it happens again, and I have to call again...will it be easier? Or more importantly, do I want it to be easier?

As I sit here, trying to write this post for the third time in two weeks, I wonder...is there a solution? Am I search for an answer or am I just spit-balling? The guilt I feel from my movies and my games existed...but not to the extent that effects my life(style). However, when I work with students I never let them play fight, the idea of making a gun out of builder blocks or any other manipulative, hand included, makes me use my teacher voice to fully illustrate the full meaning of my dislike of actual violence. Actual-violence that actually exists, physical beings are harmed...does this included football or basketball? Two sports I thoroughly enjoy could be described as "violent." Clearly I'm surrounded by violence. In my mind I tell myself that I am a passivitst...abhorring any form of violence. Going from my conversations on the horrors of way, I play a first person shooter where my goal is to kill...that's right kill anyone else...the reason...justification...for the killings....lacking. I kill on levels called Firing Range and WMD....making light of the real meanings of both of these places. Can I find peace between these two worlds? Maybe I have found peace already...I"m not that upset when I play my games, nor when I watch my movies...but somehow this question lingers..."How can I let myself be such a hypocrite face with a world in utter destruction?"

I clearly have a lot of time on my hands...I have been on spring break. Tomorrow I start my readings for the next semester and my classes will start on Tuesday. I am not looking forward to the stress but I am looking forward to actually having something to do. I am actually looking forward to having to have readings to do tomorrow. I can't believe it...but such is the state of my life...or lack there of. I have nothing to look forward too. I have things I'm dreading...but nothing I'm excited about....no appointments with friends to keep...no big trip....no person to just sit and talk with...I find myself....existing next to, not with, all 37,000 people in Claremont.

Random Factoid: I fear my Spanish is drifting away from me, I tried to write an email today and I had to look up far too many words than I would have preferred to have looked up.

La Cultura Cura

Passion, Parentheses, People

I went from an academically flaccid program to its polar opposite. My new program is one where I am always busy. 3-5 articles a week, a chapter, forum posts and weekly papers force me to stay on task. Staying on task isn't just about completely my homework but understanding that this effort will let me live my dream.

My main struggle is to stay positive. I find myself getting frustrated when professors value proper placed parentheses over passion. There is a hypocrisy in graduate level education programs. The readings and professors harp on and on about being supportive and working with strengths of the students, over the assignment are very black and white, write and wrong. I definetly feel like my strengths are not being addressed. I am learning so much, but I am not bringing anything to the table. I understand that that is how graduate studies function, but I am a much stronger teacher than I am a writer...as I'm sure my readers can understand.

The ink of the scholar is holier than the blood of the martyr

Random Factiod: Currently obsessed with Lupe Fiasco, Lasers out March 8th!


La Cultura Cura

NBA рефери Dictatorship

рефери, or as more commonly known, referee. I used the Russian spelling of the word because I feel that fits the post. The NBA referee system seems to be the current tyrannical power in the US. Take for example, if a player, announcer, or coach speaks out against something a referee does, even if the p,a, or c is just voicing an opinion, they get fined.... a lot. That is not fair, or ethical. We must then look to the route of the problem. If a coach, player, or announcer knows they're going to be fined for their remarks, why make them? I'll tell you!!! Because the system is flawed, the lack of criticism creates an organization that cannot be held accountable. The refs seem to be able to just make a call based on how they feel that day. There is no consistency.

For example in the following two videos:

The first, Blake Griffin attempts to block a shot, GOING FOR THE BASKETBALL, and collides with another player....a flagrant 1. While the call my be wrong, as long as the refs always call that play a foul I would not be as angry.



The second, Eddie House winds up and shoves Blake Griffin, throwing him against the support for the basket. By definition, a flagrant 2 foul involves a wind up and a follow through on the body of a player. Clearly a flagrant 2 foul right...nope, that gets put down into a flagrant one.




What does this mean? This means that going up for a shot block and making contact is the same as pushing someone, without the ball, on the floor. This is an outrage. How can I respect the NBA if they are going to allow such irresponsible and inconsistent performance from their employees. I don't know how the NBA ref union works, but it must be epic if the commissioner is unwilling to even try and control the referees. The more relaxed the calls are, the more the players are going to push the boundaries and then someone is going to be hurt.

Also, Kevin Garrnet is a totally anti role model. He starts a fight, then pushes a ref and doesn't even get a personal foul called against him....are you kidding?

This happens every game, and the worst part is that there is evidence.. the games are all video tapped, with so much proof of a faulty system, how can this continue to happen? On top of that, 34% of all the technical fouls have been recalled this year, that makes for every 3 techs, 1 of them is wrong....also unacceptable...something needs to change and soon or else I won't be able to support the NBA and their misguided management of the fans respect and more importantly, the player's health.

Random factoid: S-T-R-E-S-S is my new middle name, Herold is a thing of the past

La Cultura Cura

Ripe Buffoon

At times, I've been known to be the backside of a mule. A prime example of which happened this past Monday, which so happened to be my first day with USC. Yes, I equivacadoed with USC. Without further ado, here's what happened, When I was looking into getting books for each of my three classes, I made sure to jot down the time for each class. A relativily simple job....one would think. I'm proud to announced that I struggled with that task! According to my calculations, my first class started at 6 PM on Monday. I made sure that I wasn't scheduled to coach at that time and I after finishing work that night I rushed home to start my MAT@USC experiences. I logged onto the USC site and try to join my class...but it wasn't there...upon further poking around, I found out that class started at 5...My first thought was fiddlesticks, then I got hungry, but then! Ha, then I started freaking out. I emailed any and everyone who has ever worked at USC. I was assured by a few thousand of them that they had never heard of me, or the MAT@USC program. Finally, someone who currently works for SC called...that's right, called. Though I emailed them I got a call in return...OMG gotta love it. I was told that I was fine and I just had to go to that class 1 time this semester, making sure I do my work.

This brings me to my next point: Self sufficient. Unlike School A, USC assumes I'm intelligent and they expect me to work hard. That means I have to do my readings and come ready to discuss, post forums, and most importantly self manage. Since I go to class in my room, I have to stay on top of my work. There are entire aspects of class that requires me to read through slides...if I want to. Not to say that they're not required for class, just that I can so easily just not go to that website if I don't want to. I want to do well, so I will go to the website and I will give my all, but this is so new.

I want some USC stickers

Random Factoid: Go Clippers!

La Cultura Cura

Soft White

I fly back into CA last Friday, in the night time. It was quiet a sight. The lights from above are amazing. There are many different kinds of lights, two white lights that are moving, many red, yellow and green stationary lights and then, because of the time of the year, color outlines of people's houses. As I watched the lights from my cramped airplane seat I began thinking of what all of the lights symbolize. Geroge Carlin once said, "I like to leave the symbols to the symbol minded." Luckily, I'm not as cynical as he, I was touched by what all of the lights represented. Each pair of headlights represents any number of people driving to dinner, driving to watch the Clippers lose (while B. Griffin plays epically), a single father going to pick up his kid for the weekend or just a bunch of silly teenagers driving around to impress their friends. Each one of them oblivious to the car next of them and even more oblivious to me in the plane 30,000 feet above their heads. I like that. Each house, outlined with xmas lights, represents a group of people getting ready for new years, kids beggin their rents to let them stay up to 1203 to watch the ball drop, or possibly a group of 21 and olders tapping a keg and preparing for a night of good decisions.

Speaking of good decisions, my trip to Boise was awesome. The 208 always just seems to treat me great, that tiene rima if you didn't catch on. I got to see Hailey, Sarah and Wick for the first time in years. Plus, I finally got to meet Sarah's little Oliver...who is quiet the cool kid for not yet being 2. I caught up with many a person from Peru and, being as that Boise is tiny ( having a smaller population than Salinas) I ran into many other from CofI, without even trying.

Now I'm back in town...which means? Who knows. I'm glad to be coaching, otherwise I would be sooooo bored. I have started looking into getting a more morningy job to occupy my time more and bring in the benjimans. I start USC next week and am pretty excited. I got the latest loss from the Clippers on Sunday and walked around SC for a bit...to be inspired....it worked. But until I'm more monied and more jobbed my main focus is un perro. Mostly because I like words with two Rs. I have no girl friend and plenty of time on my hands and I want a dog. Possibly to be named tirebiter...too much?

I haven't wanted a dog for years. Boris, my first dog, was awesome. I was in fifth grade when we got him, I hadn't ever had a dog and I was so excited. I was finally going to be a member of the dog owners club of the world, California chapter. (that chapter starts on page 54 if you're wondering) Boris was a basset, short, long, and ears for days. We had Boris for a good 9 years. However, his last 3 or 4 years were spent with his legs in a sling, or wheelchairy sort of thing. He had slipped a disk and after surgery was never able to walk again. When he was adentro he would drag himself along and then cuanda estaba afuera he would be put in his sling. This made him somewhat of a legand around town, loved but disfunctional...ala Gilbert Grape. His final year or so were the hardest. He got old and things (inside his body) started to loosen up. When he had basically lost control it got really hard to watch. It was really hard for me to watch my beloved dog fall apart, so I distanced myself from him. I was still in college, so I was able to just detached myself from him so I wouldn't have to feel so bad...selfish, but what can I say? Following Boris, came the a bat out of hell...Pixie. She came to us after my abuelo passed on and we got to take care of him. She was just about the most ridiculous thing on the planet. Always confused, blind, deaf, and she'd hit her face on the floor when she sneezed. She wasn't the most loved by us, I'll admit. But after watching Boris age and having to deal with Pixie, I was quiet jaded by the idea of canine ownership....Until recently! I'm currently obessed with getting a new dog. I have so much time on my hands to help the dog adjust to his/her new life with the Mosses. I want a dog I can take on long walks, that way we can both not only sit around inside but also be buddies outside. This would be my dog, he or she would have a bed in my room and I'd be responsible for the whole thing...VERY EXCITING! I'd like a young dog, but not a puppy, who is good with cats because I still have my BA gato, Felicity.

Random Factoid: The West Wing is an awesome show!

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