I do not love you, except because I love you

That's the opening line from Pablo Neruda's Love Sonnet LXVI.


I've always loved this particular poem of his, because it speaks to the depth and complexity of love. The fire that consumes one is often romanticized, but it is not always a rosy experience. Anywho, I recorded the poem -- in the original Spanish-- for Read To Me Tuesday a couple of days ago, on my other blog, Things My Brother Says. Enjoy here.

It's a great day for America

A couple pf nights ago, Craig Ferguson delivered this wonderful monologue at the beginning of his show:




I think that last line is particularily relevant to many of us. "We are more than a country. We are a dream."

I consider myself an American, and this country is no less than a dream. It has its faults, to be sure, but I honestly believe there is no other place like this in the world. People do not flock to other countries like they do-- still, after more than two hundred years. People do not just pack up and leave their home country-- like my parents did-- for no reason. I did not choose to come to this county, unlike my parents. But I am choosing to stay and fight for my right to stay, because I think it's worth the fight. Even if, like Sisyphus, I am faced with a futile task, I will keep rolling my boulder up that mythical hill for as long as the slightest hope for success exists.

As Time Goes By

I have one week of loafing around the house left, and I'm going to miss it.

I am starving for a sense of structure, and the sense of purpose school gives me. On the other hand, I get carried away sometimes and let myself get completely absorbed by schoolwork. I don't want to do that, but even if I maintain a balance, I'm still going to have less time to spend with friends once my classes start.

Another source of anxiety lately has been my half-birthday coming up. Normally, I don't keep track of half-birthdays, but this one is significant. Once I've been in this country illegally six months after my birthday, I'm subject to a three-year ban on re-entry if I leave the country. Once I hit my 29th birthday, that ban is extended to ten-years. This is something that sticks in the back of my head, and I'm having trouble focusing on everyday things. Hopefully, school will keep me occupied and relatively calm.

School in itself is not without it's anxiety-producing aspects at this moment, however. Today I deactivated my facebook account because I couldn't stand to look at all the posts about packing, the excitement over moving out, and meeting dormmates. I am happy for people I know whom are moving out and moving on, as it were, but it's too much for me to look at what I feel should have been mine also.

Got it!

"It" being my Consular ID, issued by the Mexican Government. At least, that's what the back of my Matricula (as it's also known) says. More specifically, it says, "The bearer [that's me!] is a Mexican National living abroad. This is an ID issued by the Mexican Government."

I like that phrasing. From now on, I'm going to refer to myself as a " Mexican national living abroad," not as an "undocumented immigrant/student." "Mexican national living abroad" is reminiscent of exiles, I think. It's more straightforward, and less negative. It defines me by where I belong, and where I don't reside, as opposed to defining me by where I reside and don't belong.

Semantics aside, it's good to have my Matricula now. I'm a legal adult (yikes!) and I need some form of government ID.

Were I 21 and had no ID, I would not be able to buy alcohol (the horror!). I'm not 21 yet, though, but my Matricula doesn't expire for 5 years, so that won't be a problem. What I can do now is buy my own cigarettes. That may be a problem for my long-term health, though. (And I have promised myself to hold off on buying a new pack until school starts again. My resolve will be tested, I'm sure). In any case, I can't wait to buy my own Djarums, and not have to convince a friend that helping me smoke won't get them a seat in hell.

The Mexican Consulate has satellite stations that travel around the city, and this past month one has been stationed in a mall near my apartment. It was open Wednesdays through Sundays, and this is the last weekend.

I went there two weeks ago with my Dad, who needed to renew his Matricula. I wasn't able to get it that day, however, because my LAUSD ID was no longer valid, since I'm not in high school anymore, and my current school ID wasn't valid either. I needed to get an official high school transcript with my picture on it, which I did. When I got there at 1:30, there were literally three people in line. Only downside was that I only had one 100-dollar bill on me, and no WaMu card, so I had to break my bill at another store because the Consulate wouldn't. Even with that detour, however, my whole trip took a lot less time than it would have had I gone to the Mexican Consulate downtown. So, I'm eternally grateful to the Mexican government that my time in a bureaucratic office was so short.

ps. This post originally published with two spelling errors; "Sundays" was spelled "Sunbdays" in paragraph five, and "past" was "path" in the same paragraph. Thanks go out to El Random Hero for pointing that out to me (even if he did seem obscenely pleased to catch me on a mistake)

Also, forgot

update on the essay situation.

That class ended, and I did not have to disown myself. Left Journ100 with two 40s (one of which I don't think actually counts). But I left with some issues about J's grading. That's probably just my control-freak side taking over though...

Yeterday I

phonebanked for Equality California (EQCA), as part of their Win Marriage Back campaign. As you've probably gathered, EQCA has already set out to make sure we win marriage equality in 2010.

I hadn't phonebanked since last November, when I was a volunteer for Obama for America. I actually started out at DPSFV (Democratic Party, San Fernando Valley), but the work was essentially the same. I remember being terrified when I first started making calls. We had our little scripts, and most people we called didn't pick up. It got easier as it went along. I got a couple of crazies-- those threw me off, since it was hard to believe that some people out there did (and do) believe that Obama was a Muslim or an Arab. In any case, the encouragement I got every once in a while from a supporter I called was more than enough to offset the callers who were hostile.

Best of all was the Get Out the Vote work. I loved making those calls during the last two days of the campaign. It was those calls that made me feel like I was making a difference in a direct way. Clarifying for people what kind of IDs they could take to the polls; giving them the right polling place address; helping them arrange transportation to the polls; all that was incredibly fulfilling.

I wasn't able to do much yesterday, since the phonebanking training got a late start, and I had to leave early to catch my bus. Incidentally, in no other area have I been on as many deserted buses as I have in the Los Feliz/Silverlake area. Creepy.

In any case, though I wasn't able to stay for long, I did speak to one woman who signed up to canvass with us two weeks from now, as well as do data entry in the offices next week. She and long-time girlfriend are California natives, but were living out of the state for the couple of months that gay marriage was legal here. They're back in the state now, but it's too late for them. And that doesn't make sense to me. That two people should not be allowed to commit to building a life together-- that others should decide their love is not worthy of the protections of the law-- that should not happen.

And I'm confident that it wont. Just like with the DREAM Act, I have to keep hope alive that some of the injustices I see every day will be corrected. It's hard to let myself hope, but I do believe that by the time I graduate with my BA, I'll be able to marry whomever I want in this state, and I'll be able to live free of the fear of deportation.

Taha will not be deported!

Thanks to all the calls on Taha's behalf, the Department of Homeland Security is deferring action on his case.

Bottomline: Taha won't be deported to Bangladesh next week!

As scary as it is to hear about one of us facing deportation, I think small victories like these are what keep us going. Sometimes, it feels like all our efforts are for nil, but things like this prove we are making a difference. And that's all I need-- personally-- to keep going.