with I-dare-you stance:
If Congress has a problem?
Then just pass a bill
finally some guts
i’ve been waiting six years to
meet my President
to me, they’re my kids
being ripped from mama’s arms
that’s why i hear him
please just pass a bill
bipartisan human love
to connect us all
if money could buy
the time i lost regretting,
would i be happy?
my biggest paycheck
untouched in the nursery
unswaddled bonus
its late-night crying
ignites a hole in my soul
but babes are fragile
even when nursing
they can fuss and search for more
easily cracking
my scarred nipple skin
tearing my hope inside out
leaving me empty
safe in its blanket
i will keep my money wrapped
while i nurse my dreams
Janis Joplin hair
might as well accept it’s mine
Happy Halloween
drive to edge of earth
that’s how far money stretches
there’s never enough
space, bedrooms, hardwood
three people and all their shit
spread suburban sloth
walkability
on a scale of one to ten?
tractor crossing sign
there is no number
to measure my distaste here
size shouldn’t matter
Americans Dream
big, better phallic boasting
in the shape of homes
American Dream:
be Janis Joplin–different
don’t let it kill you
only a kind heart
could compliment this lemon
alas, it still drives
Here I am again. Nit picking away. Is this a sign of the times, a symbol of my year in Spain, or just another hassle like everything else?
I still haven’t been paid of course. It’s been three months. Not to mention the six months of hell and paperwork and thousands of dollars spent prior to that.
I just need to vent tonight. Bruce and I have spent ten hours today combing through all three girls’ hair, and my own, and finding more lice and nits than you could ever imagine. Add that to the laundry that we’re barely catching up on due to winter weather conditions, no dryer, and a north facing apartment. In fact, we can’t even run our washer and another appliance at the same time without the power going out. Truth is, we cannot run ANY two appliances without the power going out. Who came up with this back-asswards system, where the electric bill costs 150€ a month yet doesn’t consistently PROVIDE ELECTRICITY? I know I’m not the only one with this problem. I’ve heard others discuss similar problems, and on our travels we also ran into electrical snafus.
Add that to the serious lack of WiFi on the Iberian Peninsula, and I’m about done. The Internet rarely works well anywhere. We pay an exorbitant amount of money for ADSL and a phone with a data plan, and it’s designed for someone who doesn’t seem to actually USE it. Bruce tried to PAY for more megabytes today, and the web site locked him out!
The schools… I’ve complained a bit, but let me add on. My middle child has a gift. Not all of us are born with it, but out of my entire household, she is the one who truly has the gift of language. She has picked up more Castellano than the rest of us combined. Yet, the day before Christmas break, she came home with a report card with a failing grade in science, the equivalent to a D in Lengua Castellano, and a D in art (have I mentioned that she’s an artist and actually plans to make a career out of this?)? Her report card came with a note stating that she was pulled out for support for science and lengua. Upon further review (her interpretation), she is pulled out of class for those subjects, then put back in the classes (that she has then missed!) to take the exams, which are of course all rote memorization of facts. Not only that, but I didn’t receive any communication from the school, prior to the report card at the end of the term, either about the support classes or her FAILING.
I could pinpoint many reasons why this country is failing. But I think I’ll stick with lack of lice checks/healthcare, high bills that cover nothing, and schools that overlook gifts for rote memorization of facts, leading to a country filled with people who cannot provide basic services such as electricity, WiFi, or a paycheck.
bizcocho in bed
Spanish huelga on the streets
sunny ‘snow day’
the clouds move in
on our long walk across town,
the bike ride’s end
tagging along my subconscious
their cacophony emanates
through slick crosswalks
and cart-pulling passersby
as we make our way into
the theatre where they will become
the stage presences
they’ve only seen in pictures
after the show my colleague announces,
heavy accent and all,
It’s raining men,
and his prim-and-proper appearance,
his paisley umbrella,
fit in a warm spot
at the bottom of my heart
i teach one class (solo today),
the chart comparing schools
in Spain to America
too dense to ever fit
within the bounds of
a chalk-dust ridden
minuscule version of education
the rides home, back out,
home, back out, cause waves
of daily inconsistency that
pour out of the sky,
bearing down on the heaviness
of my home across the sea
my country sits divided
on a fence i cannot fathom,
these moments of
familiarity and love
bursting through
the clouds of a crisis
none of my countrymen can understand
in darkness,
on rain-slick tiled side streets,
i make my final pedal,
capture your words on the screen,
and wonder when we can
relinquish the rain
we have a car
but are now so accustomed
to walking
that it sits in front of our building
we move across town,
the streets as familiar
as the smiles on their faces.
we order beer, wine,
and a baklava-like mirengue-topped
pastry that tastes like s’mores
and is gobbled up in two minutes
they stand in front of the circus sign
and we make our way across the bridge,
Reina Victoria in our back pocket,
coupons ready
for the first time we witness
the financial crisis
that weighs heavily on
the drooping blue tents,
kids as young as five performing,
throwing in camels, pythons,
and even Monster High,
holding up a sign at the end,
¡Viva El Circo!
while two-thirds of the seats
are vacuous reminders
of where people are
on a Saturday night
best. circus. ever.
is what my girls say,
never complaining once
about the long walk home
but all i can hear,
all i can see
as we move along rain-washed sidewalks,
their tiles as slippery as death,
is the American song,
“Unbreak My Heart”
whose Spanish rendition
and brightly-lit acrobatic act
brought tears to my eyes
the words
though they didn’t belong
the seats
though mostly empty
trampled out the desperation
that sits unspotlighted
in the back of every
slightly drooping circus tent
Yes, I know, walking down these brightly lit, tiled-sidewalk streets with the happening cafes, shops, and panaderias, you think you have it all. But are you forgetting about your poor people who can’t afford to pay 653€ for a stroller? There are people here without jobs, and your solution is to raise taxes on children’s textbooks and raise gas prices?
I have a better idea. Why don’t you copy America and sell things. USED.
Yes, I know it’s a foreign concept (hence the America part). But my husband and I went into the only two shops in this city we could find that offer used products, what we would call back home pawn shops, and were able to buy a like-new scooter for our girls for 9.50€, when we saw the exact same one at the Chinese store for 28€! Why would anyone in their right mind pay 28€ when they can pay 9.50€?
But that isn’t the point. The point is, that pawn shop was PACKED. Every time we’ve walked by, when it’s closed, people are waiting outside for it to open. And everyone in Spain was there this morning trying to find something used. Or sell something to make a little extra money.
These people have a plan, but it isn’t complete. I know you’re obsessed with your clothing here (don’t tell me different–I’ve seen the coordinated, designer-clad two-year-olds walking about), but it’s time to market that desire. Have you ever heard of a consignment shop? A used furniture store? Play-it-Again Sports? You people are missing out on a market that could turn this country around!! Everyone benefits! People sell, people buy, the business takes a cut, we all get a good deal and have more money to pour into your small cafes, panaderias, and the like.
Forget your government corruption, your doomed banks. Find some savvy investors and open just one shop. Start with baby and children’s items. It’s a win-win. Everyone here loves families, and everyone here wants a bargain. I guarantee that within a few months you’ll turn a beautiful profit, enough to open an adjacent shop selling clothing… you get the idea. Screw your instability. As we always say in teaching, no sense in reinventing the wheel. It wouldn’t be the first time you copied an idea from America, nor the last…
Hey, I’m no business major, but a girl’s gotta survive. A country’s gotta survive. What do you think, España??
Why must travel cost such an extraordinary amount of money? We’re so fucking spoiled. All we do is decide to pile into our cheap-ass American car, load it down with clothes and food, and maneuver on interstates from one relative’s home to another, never paying high prices for hotels or exorbitant amounts for gas. What a strange world, so isolated from reality, Americans live in! How could they possibly complain about anything, I have decided, until they’ve laid down 500€ for kids’ school supplies and books, have looked at bus tickets (yes, bus!!!) that would cost almost as much as plane tickets to a place that’s half a day’s drive??
So much for seeing Spain. I mean, should I spend half a month’s salary for a three-day-weekend in Barcelona? Is it that much more amazing than where I stand at this moment, palm trees and warmth surrounding every moment?
I considered buying a car. We were walking home and I saw a compact car for 1000€. Hey that’s only a little more that our Barcelona “trip”! So I looked into it… it costs anywhere from 450€-1000€ just to get a fucking driver’s license! What a racket these Spaniards have with their fancy textbooks and driving schools. Everyone might be unemployed, but let me tell you, some of them are rolling in it!!
This is why I’m a little testy tonight. Not only does it look like we won’t be going anywhere this year, but I’m also a little tired of ringing doorbells to fancy sixteenth-floor apartments or row homes for tutoring that I was told (by the teachers at my school here) to charge only 10€ an hour for. I certainly didn’t want to overstep my bounds and take advantage of the poor Spaniards, but I sure as hell am a little fumed that, as usual, the money remains at the top, that I have to work twice as many hours to earn enough to buy groceries when they’re paying for an invaluable experience with a native English speaker from a place none of them have heard of or will ever visit!!
So not everything’s perfect on this side of the globe. Can’t a girl complain for just a moment?
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