Which character are you?

I didn't know what 'Chicano' meant before taking this course. Honestly. On the first day of class I sat down having really no idea what kind of literature we were going to read. In actual fact, I had to look up where the Río Grande was on a map! (she admits reluctantly)



Fortunately, much of the literature we read in class I was able to relate to, despite my initial ignorance of who these authors were and where they came from. I can not relate to their stories of immigration and I couldn't grasp their feelings of identity loss, seeing as in my life I'm still trying to locate my identity in the first place; but I could experience their sense of humanity. Many of these authors wrote their stories (fiction or not) with such vividness, and oftentimes such poetic verse, that I was drawn towards them. It wasn't a chore to read their tales of coming and going, loss and gain, crippling pains and small victories.



I'm not going to say which works I liked or didn't like. I'm not even going to mention them specifically. I think that they have each left a mark on me, with many of the characters leaving their footprints on my mind. And those footprints are important, especially when living in a city such as Vancouver where caucasian is seen as a minority now in our 'cultural mosaic'. Many people that live here are immigrants or the children of immigrants. It would be like having the first day of school everyday...not to mention in another language. I have never been racist or against immigration; although I now feel more enriched on the subject. I don't feel like I can understand their situation completely or truly empathize with them; however, I do ask different questions in my mind now when I look at people of another nationality: Where were you born? Why did you move? How are you treated? Does this country feel like home to you?



And sometimes: Which character are you?

She says 'toque'...she's Canadian in my books!

A body to remember with, eh? This title made me think of the scar just below my knee where a piece of blue glass lodged itself, and the basketball that crippled my pinky finger because I didn't realize that tendons and ligaments tend to repair themselves in a mangled way. But as I read the book, its political background shifted my thinking: the struggle, the triumph, and the journey is written upon the bodies of these characters (presumably upon Carmen herself). It's what they can experience with their senses and what they can remember with their minds that makes them unable to forget their past.

Another recipe: To create and a body to remember with, take the frame and poetic phrasing of Woman Hollering Creek and stir in as much political disturbance as you can from How the García Girls Lost Their Accents. Add a tablespoon of immigration and a pinch of identity loss. Bake for 166 pages and cover with a toque to keep warm.

As you can see from the recipe, I found many similarities between and a body to remember with and some of the other books we have previously read in class. Although the characters and experiences are different, there are reoccuring themes of identity, immigration, political unrest, and remembrance. On a side note, I've always felt that language structure influences culture. For example, latinos have a language where they must remember what gender they are using so as to have agreement throughout the noun, the adjective, the article, etc..., this translates to these people having an amazing memory of their history. However, whether it's due to their language or not, it appears that they are not a culture that forgets.

I enjoyed reading these stories because I could relate to the Vancouver setting. I saw Stanley Park, 4th avenue, and UBC campus in my head, exactly as they exist and how Rodriguez experienced them. When she spoke of Chile it felt like a separate book, one which I could vaguely relate to. In the powerful chapter "3-D" on page 95, there are several cassettes of Chilean artists in the room. This struck me as intriguing for reasons that go deeper than simple 'outside observation'. Perhaps I could see my own room if I were in Santiago, Chile, with CDs of Shania Twain, Bryan Adams, and Alanis Morisette; trying to preserve my Canadian identity in a Chilean world. I felt strangely connected to a woman seeking a refuge from her torturer; a woman who I really have nothing in common with.

This collection of stories shocked me with its vigilante struggle and the emotional turbulance of forced immigration. I had no idea that all this had happened in Chile. I suppose that's why Rodriguez wrote this book, to show people like myself that there are governments out there that have to the power to wreck people's lives; and they do it, without a care. I wish I'd read this book before I visited Chile. I believe it would have brought me more insight into the culture. As it was, I could never have imagined such crimes happening there. I'm ignorant, I know that, and I think that a good majority of us Canadians take what we have for granted. And so, in true Canadian form, I say: "Welcome to Canada! Here's your toque."

It takes an island to raise a child.

What struck me most about the second half of How the García Girls Lost Their Accents was the amount of people who actually contributed to the lives of these girls. It seemed to cement that old saying that "it takes a village to raise a child", although in this case perhaps the whole Dominican Republic was in on it!



In pondering the reverse chronological order of the book, apart from the chapters actually being published for the first time out of order (which could be another clue to their innovation), I would also like to think that this set-up is to give us a view of the girls' adult, 'developed' personalities, and then bring us back to the points in time that helped shape them into who they have become. I enjoyed this style, as the technique isn't all that common. It made me feel like a psychiatrist with each girl on my couch recounting their life stories and I had to be the one that decided which experience had affected them in which way. On this note, I found that many of the girls saw the world through the lens of their hobbies. Yoyo's chapters were founded by a much more poetic voice which showed how her entire life was governed by this talent for words which she has. Sandi, as the early artist in the family, speaks of the sky as a ''cloudy canvas'' (page 245). It was refreshing how the language the girls used in describing their lives stemmed from their varied talents.



In Sandi's chapter 'Floor Show', the truth of how a nice person can make all the difference to a foreigner shone through. Although due to Mrs. Fannings crazy antics this may not be what we are supposed to take away from this chapter, I still felt humbled by the presence of someone (Mr. Fanning) who would help this family enjoy a dinner out of the house while they were in dire straits. In my travels I have found the most memorable moments come from when a native of the country helps me out: a ride to the next town, extra money, directions, ANYTHING!!! Also, when I travelled in South America, one dollar could go a long way. So although I am not an immigrant as the Garcías are in the book, I feel their powerlessness when I return to a first-world country and a buck can't even get you a bus ticket. How terrible it would be to leave your home country as a well-off family to come to an unforgiving city where you have trouble making ends meet.



I really wish that Alvarez had written the speaking on the island IN SPANISH!! I found it hard to relate to Mamita when she yells, supposedly in Spanish, "Damn it!...You all say he pees holy water, well he's been peeing it all right!" I guess I just feel like such an outburst should be written in the mother tongue; but with the majority of the book being in English, it is more inviting to a larger English-speaking audience...which is perhaps whom Alvarez is trying to reach. Although I must say, I love the christmas carol on page 264 which goes: "A Santa Claus le gusta el vino, A Santa Claus le gusta el ron..." Those Dominican Santas sure know how to party! ;)

A spectacular dish so far

I remember Beth telling me a few weeks ago that I would fall in love with this book. So I looked at the bright cover, the crafty blunt pages and thought, "hmmmm, why not?" And so I began...and she was absolutely right.




To make the García Girls recipe, take 4 cups Little Women, add 1 litre My Big Fat Greek Wedding, a bit of Dominican rum for flavour, and a dash of One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest (just because Sandi's a bit of a nut case and I love Jack Nicolson) :P



What struck me as most interesting about this book is its tendency to be unconventional. The sections will often go chronologically backwards (ie: 1970-1960)...not sure yet whether this is to denote a flashback...but it is a curious feature to say the least! Even the family tree at the beginning of the novel is abnormal. The family members are described as (let's admit it) you would normally describe family members: "The great-great-grandfather who married a Swedish girl", or "the hair-and-nails cousins". This technique makes much more sense after reading the first chapter and seeing that all the aunts are giving "a capsule description of what Yolanda might remember of that relative: the one with the kidney bean swimming pool, the fat one, the one who was an ambassador." (p. 14). I remember that even I have done this to stir a boyfriend's memory who had come to the family party: "Oh, remember Uncle Bruce, the bald one? or Aunt Vicky with the funny laugh?" And that is why I love this book; even though I haven't experienced every situation it brings up, I can still sense its truth.



The novel has an interesting way of telling the stories. I enjoy how, for example, each of the stories about the daughters are subtitled by their different nicknames, depending on the time period, who is telling the story, or what happened to them in the story. I found this to cement the fact that these girls each had troubles handling their identities. Each name they were given denoted each separate segment of themselves.



I find it confusing how the girls will sometimes love their homeland: "Let this [Dominican Republic] turn out to be my home" (page 11), and other times they abhor having to travel back to the Dominican each summer to see their family. I started to think that maybe it's less of 'where' they are that is confusing, and more the fact that there is always a 'question' of where they are: the US or the Dominican? Where do they belong?



I found that I could relate to the sisterhood involved in this novel as I have 2 older sisters and no brothers. I believe that this bond is universal (albeit on different levels) for all sisters. I also believe that the different levels of this bond stem from the life situations the sisters experience together. I wonder if I would've turned out as Sofía did if I'd had one more older sister and we'd all been constantly moved between two worlds.



Feel free to comment on what else you would add to the García Girls recipe!

Still wet behind the ears...

The technique that became most apparent in the second half of Woman Hollering Creek is the intertwining of Spanish and English into one 'Spanglish'. The symbolism of Mexican immigrants living in the US but struggling to find their identity on both sides of the border is not lost in this conglomeration of languages. Cisneros is an expert at laying out Mexican slang within an English monologue...and I'm guessing that this is because that was how language worked for her while growing up. As I read the stories (such as Little Miracles, Kept Promises), I began to wonder what it would be like to not have any background in the spanish language and attept to read those short spanish prayers. Perhaps we get the feeling for who Cisneros's audience really is: Chicanos....the bilingual masses. I feel like she has let me into these secrets just because I have taken the effort to learn spanish and understand her culture. It's almost like she could care less for those people that don't take the time to understand even THAT necesity about her: her language.



I love all the different writing styles that surface in this book. It becomes almost overwhelming to catch onto a different style with every chapter, but it's still all written in that same sassiness that I have come to admire about Cisneros. I found that my least favorite story was Eyes of Zapata. It was full of magical realism, which I love, but something about it having to do with a historical figure made me pop out of that fantasy world of characters that Cisneros had created. And once again, the naive, frail female protagonist who stayed with her famous, cheating husband frustrated me. That opinion aside, considering that Cisneros couldn't have experienced this time period but still achieves such an amazing level of description is an incredible feat.


And finally we see two stories that have some relevance to eachother: Bien Pretty, and Tin Tan Tan. Yet even through this small victory of correlation, I couldn't feel a connection with the protagonist. I felt more connected to the childhood stories than any other section in the book. I have a suspiscion that my adult life experiences are a little more low-key as compared to those of Cisneros and her characters. Final response: this book made me feel very young.

Lucy is real

I feel like I've met Sandra Cisneros. That's the kind of writer she is: reading her books is like reading an extension of her life. I start to wonder, "Did she actually have a friend named Lucy who smelled like corn? Did she hear that story from a friend? Was it all from her imagination?" And finally, I ask myself: "Does it matter?" The writing is just that good.

It was interesting how the book was sectioned into three stages of life: childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. My favorite story from the childhood section has to be 'Eleven'. I've actually taken to reading the first few paragraphs of this story to friends and family because I love it that much! As I read it to them, I notice small smiles appearing around the corners of their lips, and I know that this story is affecting them the same as it did me....it's bringing them back. Yah, sometimes I feel like I'm three and sometimes I feel like I'm twenty-three, but it's funny to think that I am every age in between. And it's true that I don't feel my age until about half way through that year. It really has to grow on you first, until you are almost the next year. The ideas of Cisneros blow me away...it's stuff you don't think about, but you know is true....like a Seinfeld show.

I was shocked by the stories in the short adolescent section. The ideas aren't knew to me, but let's just say I didn't see them coming. The same with the adult section...I just wanted to reach into the book and shake some sense into these characters!!! What was interesting was that these protagonists are all chicanas, but their stories are so universal that you can apply them to anyone. Cisnero's brings the experiences to life. To me, Lucy is real.

I'm curious about how this book affected the guys in our class. It is really harsh with some of its male stereotypes and it's all for women making a better life for themselves (although it's rare when the characters actually do!) Did you men in the class feel the same way that I felt about the book?

Thoughts on the class so far...

Looking back at our curriculum thus far, I can't believe that we've only read from THREE authors! I feel like there has been much more information passed around than having to do with just a handful of literary works!

I have to agree with a few of the posts I've just read and say that I really enjoy the course. Aside from the content, I find the classroom atmosphere relaxed and friendly....exactly what I'm looking for when I am asked to give my thoughts in Spanish! I have also enjoyed reading about Chicanos and their experiences, be them recent or from a century ago. The authors that we have read allow us to relate to their stories. I am not an immigrant (although I don't REALLY know what being a 'Canadian' means...it's kind of the old 'mixing pot'-mosaic analogy for me), but after reading these stories I understood a few of the tribulations and triumphs that belong to these chicanos.

It was also a breath of fresh air to watch 'The Salt of the Earth'. I'm sure that we all inwardly groaned when we saw the black and white and heard the crappy sound quality of the DVD, but the movie turned out to be better than expected. I found that it connected very well with the racial and gender issues also found in Who Would Have Thought It?; however, this heroin decided to do something drastic and dramatic about her situation. Perhaps this shows how the times have changed even between the book's publication and the movie's release.

I've already read the book (Cisneros) for our Wikipedia project and I hope that everyone will enjoy it as much as I did. I thought that it was better than any one of our first three readings!

No había perdido nada...

I was a little confused by the ending to this book, so I looked into a little internet research on Tomás Rivera to see if his lifestory could shed some light on the conclusion. As one could have assumed, Rivera was the son of migrant workers living in Texas and he would often accompany them to the fields. This accounts for the basis of '...y no se lo traigo la tierra' being about the different Mexican workers that come in and out of a little boy's life. Our faithful
Wikipedia stated that the story is a Faulknerian stream-of-consciousness novella. This is blatantly obvious, what with all the fragmented thoughts and stories that are pouring out of this novel.

I was confused...and that was only at the best of times. I enjoy novels and movies that have a timeframe which jumps around and the audience has to be engaged in the story in order to understand the plot. But this book has almost proved too much. He does begin to tie things together at the end. You see that the 'viejo' hiding under the house is the missing link between all the stories. This confused me a bit seeing as the primary first-person narrator has been a young boy. Perhaps in comparison to the kids that found the stow-away, he was a 'viejo', or maybe this description is abstract in that after all the stories he has told, after those that he has been a part of, the boy is now a man. The owner of the house comments that '[Él e]stá perdiendo los años.' (p. 114). This parallels the opening line of the book: 'Aquel año se le perdió.' (p. 7). I enjoyed how the story came full circle in this sense. He states that after the woman says that he is losing his years, he feels content. He realizes that 'en realidad no había perdido nada. Había encontrado. Encontrado y reencontrar y juntar.' (p. 114). He's putting the pieces together; the thoughts and reality of the people in his life. The narrator is remembering these people and events with compassion, as he says that if he had arms big enough, he would hug every one of them (p. 113). It appears that he has gone insane as a result of what is happening in his life. At the end, he climbs a tree and imagines someone there with him. He waves so that the other person sees that he knows he's there (p. 115). This is a similar depiction to the book's beginning where the narrator hears voices but there is never anyone there. Perhaps now he has conquered his paranoia and accepted his own reality for what it is. I would hope that these tales in this book are not the result of Rivera's own experience; but the possibility, however bleak, is there.

Don't judge a book by it's cover

So how many of you, like me, looked at ...y no se lo tragó la tierra and thought that you were about to read a children's book? Then, after even the first chapter, you felt you may have underestimated the content there within?


While reading this book, I feel like I'm stuck in a whirlpool: the chapters pull me in every direction (first person narrator, third person narrator, omniscient...) but I believe that they are all spinning me towards an inevitable end when all characters will come together. So far, this hasn't happened, but I'm still eagerly waiting. [CAUTION: PLOT SPOILER!] When the boy in the beginning was shot by that old man I thought, "wow, this has got to be a central plot!" But I'm halfway into the book and haven't heard a peep explaining the outcome of that scene (although I do have a few guesses as to the identity of the dead person who was thrown in the well).


It's a little unnerving to read a book that doesn't give names to its principal characters, and at times I am completely confused as to who's speaking. But this gives me more of a pull towards the story. It makes me curious. I will often read a page two or three times until I actually understand (or at least have my guesses) about who is speaking and what they are talking about. At first I thought that the novel was a mix of 2 stories: one of the humans and one of the spirit world. I think this still might be the case and I'm eagerly awaiting the moment of the devil's arrival amonst the humans (my guess so far is that he may already be there in the form of that not-so-righteous 'fulano' (p. 41)). But in all fairness, I love stories like this....as long as the ending lives up to its suspense.


I'm also curious why the author adds the repitition of 'luego, luego' to much of the dialogue. I guess this may be more obvious later.........later :P (sorry i couldn't resist!)


I'm enjoying the read immensely...especially the senses described (so many smells!!), and the inner monologues of the first person characters. This book exemplifies that old saying, "Never judge a book by its cover."

A few rays of hope in a boring read

Okay, so honestly the first thing I thought when I looked at this MASSIVE booklet was: 'mierda'. After struggling through the first 2 essays with a pocket dictionary and a lot of pen ink, I decided to forge ahead and just go with my gut feelings. I have to say: I was not very inspired.
Not to say that Jose Marti isn't a fantastic writer. You can see his talent and uniqueness in every elongated paragraph, but it certainly wasn't material that I would recommend as a good read. Maybe it's the difference in our eras, or perhaps it was the political-mindedness which I have no background in whatsoever. Or it could have been his apparent obsession with America (no offense, but these subjects literally put me to sleep). However, I do not think that my less-than-ecstatic attitude was brought on by the essays being written in Spanish. I feel that I would have felt exactly the same had I read them in English.
So now that I've said my unkind words and I have ol' Marti rolling in his grave, I should probably get into what I felt was unique about these writings. And seeing as I've already hinted at my inability to grasp the political ideas, I will centre mainly on Marti's semantics and themes.
I would first like to nominate Jose Marti for the award: 'Writer of the Most Drawn-out Sentences EVER!' It was actually amazing to watch him do it, so to speak, such as in the last paragraph of Fiesta de la Estatua de la Libertad. This is 9 lines of one sentence, punctuated with a final exclamation of free indirect narration. It seemed as though Marti's exile to the US only enhanced his obsession with their politics and lifestyle. At times I felt he was writing a satire of America's love of power and presentation; and its convenient forgetfulness of the little people who brought these great displays of power to completion. He remarks in El Puente de Brooklyn that "...si [los cables] pesan tanto de suyo sustentan el resto de esa pesadumbre portentosa.?" (p. 426). And on page 430, when he addresses the bridge workers: "Oh trabajadores desconocidos, oh martires hermosos, entranyas de la grandeza, cimienta de la fabrica eterna, gusanos de la gloria!" Such statements display how these key players in the construction of mankind's most celebrated works were disregarded in a 'wonderful sorrow'. Or even how Lafayette's work with the Statue of Liberty was overlooked because he was a foreigner: "Ah! de Francia, poca genta habla. No hablan de Lafayette ni saben de el. No se fijan en que se celebra un don magnifico del pueblo fances moderno al pueblo americano." (page 182, Fiestas de la Estatua de la Libertad).
Marti is an amazing observer. I felt like I was actually being led by him through the scenes which he presented. He directs us: "Ved a Bartholdi....Ved a los diputados...Ved a Spuller" (page 185, Fiestas de la Estatua de la Libertad), and we see each point of interest in succession.
El Terremoto de Charleston brought some human realism into Marti's essays. For example, how a victim of the earthquake "...anda sobre su vientre dando gritos horrendos, con los brazos y las piernas rotas..." (p. 200). And also how the survivors think of their loved ones at the cemetary: "...los muertos llevados al cementario donde esta sin hablar Calhoun que hablo tan bien, y Gaddens, y Rutledge y Pinckney." (p. 202).
I will be interested in class to hear some background about these essays which may bring them to life for me.

Jon was right.

So I tackled the last 120 pages of this book with trepidation and hope after hearing Jon's conclusion that the book was dreadfully boring. My hope was in that I would have a different view of 'boring' and get more out of the ending than our own personal, omniscient book critic. But soon my hopes were dashed. I had read on, becoming pleasantly enthralled with each turn of the page. Plots of deceit, the little people getting the upper hand, happy endings, and many smiles ensued (I'm pretty easy to please when it comes to reading literature similar to that of Jane Austin). But then, in the height of my amusement, this wonderful ending came grinding to a painful, dull-witted, time-consuming halt, with the final dialogue of those hot-aired Cackles. This, my friends, was a HUGE disappointment. Throughout the entire book I would cringe when I noticed the next chapter would be focusing on the Cackles. Their meddlings in politics and obsession with power made me sick. I am definitely a romanticist by nature, and certainly not a classicist. I know that Ruiz de Burton enjoyed making a show of their hipocritcal actions and the wonderfully clever parody with their namesakes, but what a terrible way to end a perfectly good book. It was similar to a very decent movie about love and plots and good and bad which ends with the movie-goer walking out of the theater, wondering what it was that they just saw. Please, if any of you reading this can explain the symbolism in the final pages 293-298 of the story, I ask you to fill me in as I am afraid that I may have drifted off.

Okay, enough venting. Sorry, I had to get that out. As I mentioned earlier, it made me absolutely giddy to read about the characters most poorly treated in the story receiving the upper-hand. Obviously Lola finally got her happy ending (although whatever happened to Don Felipe Almenara, whose only claim to fame in the novel was his saying he was Lola's husband, was never quite tied up....I had no doubt that this would be the ultimate crush to Julian and Lola's love and was disappointed when Don Felipe never appeared again). But others, such as Issac Sprig and Mina the french maid, found that they could climb to the height of their happiness while stepping on a few hipocritical toes along the way! What a lovely balance of good vs. evil! Julian realized the evil hidden within this 'great government' which he had served with his very life. Mrs. Norval is almost put away in an insane asylum by the materialistic, cold daughter whom she actually crafted with the looseness of her purse strings. Whatever happened to the poor doctor who started this run-around story is also left to the reader's imagination. And unappreciated Lavvy...did she ever start a life with Mr. White? I only wish that Ruiz de Burton had filled us in on what eventually happened to THESE characters rather than focusing on the political plans of the nauseating Cackles. Again, if anyone can explain the importance of this last conversation (perhaps pertaining to the Cackles' [or real people whom they were meant to imitate] involvement in American history [something about which I am terribly ignorant of]), please feel free.

Ruiz de Burton - section 1

So far into Ruiz de Burton's novel, I am extremely pleased with this reading. I love that there are times where her characters are drenched in sarcasm or the obviousness of her prejudices shines through like a blinding light. Much of the historical American references I am unfamiliar with, but from the book's footnotes I can understand that Ruiz de Burton's satirical nature runs deep within the veins of America's colonial history, government, and society. Such as, when describing the reaction to headlines of treason, she writes: "Men and women were electrified What! to dare plot against 'the best government on earth'!" (p. 68). Such a statement shows the rebellious, sarcastic nature of the author as it seems she could only express through her literature. Her writing displays her knowledge that she knows she isn't the same as these proud and patriotic 'pure-blooded' Americans , but also that she doesn't want to be like them. On the other hand, there were times while reading where I compared Ruiz de Burton to a revenge writer; feeling the sting of rejection and then writing compliments dripping with sarcasm directed towards her bullies.
As English is not Ruiz de Burton's first language, I am astounded with her astonishing skill as an author. She captures much literary symbolism and wit using her second language. I especially enjoy the many references to Greek mythology made throughout the novel. This shows a vast education and the intelligence to apply it, especially for a woman in Ruiz de Burton's era. She even cleverly titles chapter 8 as "The Trophies of Militiades Do Not Let Me Sleep.", referring to Greek history and Themistocles' resentment towards Militiades for what should have been his. I wonder if in these references she attempts to make these characters, these situations, or even the book itself 'epic'.
On page 106, I felt that Ruiz de Burton was describing Lavinia much as she would describe herself; a latino-born woman living in colonial America:

"...[Lavinia] was reflecting that no matter how much a woman, in her unostentatious sphere may do, and help to do, and no matter how her heart may feel for her beloved, worshipped country, after all she is but an insignificant creature, whom a very young man may snub..."

Perhaps the author felt as though despite her best efforts, she was always seen as second-rate, due to both her spanish background AND being a woman.
I am especially intrigued with Lola's part in the story as I feel that she may represent the triumph of the 'foreigner's spirit' over Mrs. Norval's portrayal of the underhanded, native-resident's psyche. What happens between her and Julian in the pages to come may dictate the winner of this epic battle.

'Test' blog

Alright, so this is my 'test' blog....
Hi, my name is Katie Whitlam. I have never had a blog and actually never visited one either so this is all rather new to me. Clearly I am not the technological type. I still have a crappy little samsung cellphone, sin camera......your jaw just dropped didn't it?
Okay, so, a little about me: I am 23 and have just moved to Kitsilano. I normally reside in Chilliwack. Yes, probably everything you've heard about Chilliwack is true: rednecks, farm smells, good corn, grow-ops, etc.... but I it's my hometown and I love it (I actually live out by Cultus Lake which is my saving grace when people ask where I'm from). I love to travel. I just got back from a trip to Central/South America. Only there for two and a half months so it was a bit of a whirl-wind. I'll definitely have to go back. As of now, I'm brainstorming about 5 new trips...where I'll ever find the time, or money for that matter, I don't know. I'm completing a Bachelor of Arts degree right now with a Linguistics major and a Spanish minor. My life goal is to learn 8 languages...I'm kind of obsessed with them :S
I love music...doesn't really matter what kind, whatever I'm in the mood for. Singing is a passion of mine. I'm pretty much addicted to karaoke. Kind of sucks living with room mates now becauase usually people aren't all that keen on someone breaking into song in the next room. Dancing is also a good time for me, although I have been actually been asked, "You dance like THAT?"
I enjoy playing sports for fun, although last week I rolled my ankle and am not doing much of anything at the moment....it kind of looks like an ogre's foot. My favorite things are clouds. Have you ever actually thought of your favorite thing??
Oh yah, and I get a little long-winded when I start typing. Oops.
:P