Sneak preview of upcoming novel.
Friday, May 26, 2006
I like to write a lot on Fridays before holidays, when I'm the only one stupid enough to have used up all her vacation days.I almost had a panic attack an hour ago, in my car, while driving to Jack in the Box. On the one hand, I've had some minor-to-not-so-minor stresses going on lately. On the other hand, I was very hungry, and I'm on my way to fulfilling the promise of my heritage by becoming diabetic any freaking second now, so I knew in the rational corner of my mind that this panic attack was only the result of a blood sugar fluctuation and not (as the rest of my mind wanted me to believe) a sign of doom from God.
One Ultimate Cheeseburger later, everything is okay. Except for the fact that I still have to renew the (April) registration sticker on my car. And, you know, that there's a big fucking rat walking around our apartment whenever the fuck it feels like, and our rat traps haven't yet caught him.
This is the second rodent this month, in case anybody wants to start a tally.
On the bright side of the silver lining of the cup of lemonade that I'm making from these lemons: This should make it easier for me to break my lease and move into our new house this summer.
I feel a level-up coming on. You know what I mean? When you're playing a role-playing game, as a warrior or a sorceror or whatever, and you do enough work to go to the next level? And you do, and a blue light surrounds your body, shooting up into the air, as the number next to your name increases by one?
That's gonna be me in a second - as soon as I kill three more monsters. But, for some reason, the moment right before the level-up always makes me a little nervous. The moment right after it, too. But that's okay. I'll buy some new armor and get over it.
The Mexican in Me
makes me superstitious. Makes me respect my elders for fear that, otherwise, my grandmother will fly down from heaven to slap my face. Makes me talk really loud when I'm excited or mad. Makes me get mad whenever I feel like it, like it's a perfectly healthy thing. Makes my butt big. Makes my lips big. Makes my eyes big. Makes me pale green in certain lights. Makes me want to wear shiny, pretty things. Makes me love babies and animals. Keeps me from getting my ass kicked. Makes me mean, but only because I love you. Puts moles on my skin.
(Makes me diabetic, some day soon, maybe. That's what put my grandma in heaven, along with other things.)
It makes you say I'm using the Race Card to get by.
It makes me a little bit magic.
The White in Me
makes me love elves and dwarves. Makes me want to hang cross-stitched samplers in my house, with letters and symbols that mean things. Makes me money-hungry. Makes it okay for me to wear nothing shiny, sometimes. Lets me think I'm so smart so school, even while I might be stupid at home. Makes the cops listen to my side of the story. Makes you trust me at garage sales. Gives me stretch marks and makes me burn in the sun. Makes me sweet to strangers, even when I want to hate them.
It makes you say I'm using White Privilege to get by.
It makes me a little bit magic.
Did that offend anyone?
Too bad, too bad. That's my right as a mixed-up person - to love and hate everything. 1:21 PM #
Comments:
Gwen,That mexican/white in you entry showed how I feel. Funny thing, I am not mixed, but 100% mexican, but always felt american somehow.
It also makes me feel guilty most of the time, as a traitor to my race. I understand what you mean when you ask if you were to offend anyone. That's how my every day life is like.
# posted by
LC : 12:45 AM
LC: I think a lot of people have those feelings. I know my 100% Chinese (American) boyfriend does. He calls himself whitewashed, a Twinkie, or a banana when he "betrays" his race.
I guess the key is not to feel guilty about it. Fuck it. Take the best from every culture you come into contact with, and screw the rest. Take care of yourself as best you can, and don't worry about what everyone else says.
I hereby request that you stop feeling guilty, LC. Feel happy, instead.
# posted by
Gwen : 8:37 AM
Yay! A happy camper, that's what I'll be.
Gewn, thanks for visiting my space in the net (not myspace.com, I hate that shit).
I call myself a coconut. Heee
p.s. Help me convince the boy to come visit me. He's so hardheaded.
# posted by
LC : 4:11 PM
Hi Gwen,
I'm white and I married a sweet mexican man, and we have a beautiful bi-racial daughter together. I have some pictures of my daughter on my Lady Jan's home blog, if you want to take a look.
I think mixed heritage produce beautiful children, and you can get the best from both sides; The big beautiful eyes, the creamy skin and that tans easily. Thick gorgeous hair, that grows fast. Thin legs, and my daughter has a nice rear end too. She is long and thin, but I'm not--I'm a shorty. I think she got the heighth from my sister and sisiter-in-law, both who are tall.
Second generation mexicans in this country are tall have you noticed? My husband stands a full head taller than the migrant farm workers that are straight from Mexico.
I think with your mixed background you've got a mixed bag of goodies, pick out the best and toss the rest--or not as you please.
Janice~
# posted by
Janice : 1:55 AM
I really enjoy reading about your perceptions regarding the white/Mexican thing. I don't know if the racial thing is just different in Canada, or if I just don't see it.
I think it would be a huge culture shock for me to live anywhere in the US.
The countries are so close, but sometimes I wonder how different they really are.
# posted by
lisal : 10:41 AM
I just re-read my comment and realized how stupid it sounded. It's like I forgot to write half of it.
Anyway, I didn't mean to imply that racism only exists in the US, just that in my day to day basis I don't encounter it that much.
I also wasn't trying to imply that you experience racism every time you step foot out of the house.
I'm just having a mixed up few days and I feel like everything I do is wrong.
I guess it's the too nice, trying-to-please everyone,Canadian in me.
# posted by
lisal : 4:44 PM
This post has been removed by a blog administrator.
# posted by
lisal : 4:45 PM
LC: I tried my best. I think he's worried about messing up your blog by saying the wrong thing. He needs your reassurance that talking about dog-poo-shaped Tim Horton's drinks is okay.
Janice: I think you're right. People in America are taller than everybody else. It's all the high fructose corn syrup we eat.
Lisal: I didn't take offense. Don't worry. I have a not-white friend who was born in Toronto and now lives here in Houston. Last night I told her about your comment. She said to tell you that "everyone in Canada acts white" compared to people here. I'm not sure what that means, unless it's that we're all louder down here. And we dress tackier and sluttier, too. And maybe there are more non-white people here, so it's easier for us to rejoice in our own cultures' bad habits in public? I don't know. That sounds racist, although I don't mean it to be.
It's kind of hard for me to be good and quiet when I'm in Canada, and refrain from embarrassing my hosts. Then, after a week with the good/quiet people, I get on the plane full of Americans to go back home, and I think, "God, can you loudly dressed mofos shut the hell up for a second?"
# posted by
Gwen : 9:53 AM
It's funny, because I've never considered myself a prude or meek or anything, then I went to Cancun right around the time of US High School Grad. Wow, was that an awakening.
I felt like my Grandma thinking things like "put your clothes back on!" and "Why are you on the speaker stripping" and "why do you all have to be so loud?".
Seriously, I felt so old, and I was only 21 at the time. I think it was a combination of booze, and being newly 18, done high school and away from home that made the whole hotel a complete gong show.
We did, however, meet some really nice people from Texas while we were there, and ended up spending some time with them. I wish we had all exchanged numbers or something. (it was 2000, before everyone had email, I think.)
# posted by
lisal : 11:21 AM
Ha.
Cancun tourists are the extreme end of the spectrum, though, I'm sure.
Come down to Texas and look at the normal people. A lot of us really are nice, a lot of the time.
# posted by
Gwen : 9:07 PM
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