spanish speakers only.

My Spanish teacher is a nerd; a real zoobie. Clean-cut with boyish good looks; polite, caring, enthusiastic, but a stickler about assigning things that feel impossibly difficult and making sure that he marks you absent if you're more than 10 minutes late. (We have class 5 days a week and you automatically fail if you're absent 5 times.)

Earlier in the week, he was teaching us the about the "a personal" and writes this on the board:

¿Tu amigo lleva _________ a la fiesta?
Our options being "a mi hermana" or "mi hermana."
(translation: Your friend is bringing my sister to the party?)

To help us decide whether or not to use the "a," my teacher stiffly exclaims,"Is she likely to receive some action if she is being taken to the party?"

The class erupts. My teacher turns bright red. El fin.

school is my sole companion.

My friend, Mark, told me over a virgin mojito Saturday night that he video chats while studying. He explained that it's like digitally sitting at opposite ends of a library table, clicking at a keyboard or silently reading; enjoying another's presence, but remaining detached enough to complete individual homework assignments.

Today I had to a lot of Spanish studying to do. I scouted and claimed the most comfortable table with the most aesthetic lighting and the most scenic view. After two hours I realized that the frequency of glancing at my cell phone was increasing. I kept hoping for a blinking red light indicating a text message. I couldn't stop checking the time.

A boy approached and silently motioned for permission to sit at the opposite end of my table. He was red and sweaty. I could smell him from where I was sitting.
He pulled out a Russian textbook and scribbled sloppy words with a ballpoint pen on some wide rule paper. He never removed his earbuds.
Somehow his smelly and wordless presence calmed me. I stopped checking my phone and focused more clearly.

I felt some regret when he got up to leave.

inspired.

(the projector in the room where I attend conversation lab for my Spanish class.)

A guy named Jared Greenleaf presented clips from his journals to my art class. He didn't have much to say about his work other than that for him, art is a joint venture. He spoke of always drawing with others, with friends. He said that when he didn't have people in his life to draw with, that he didn't produce as much work and that the quality also waned. He stressed how much we need people around us to inspire us and create artwork for and with.

I've attended a lot of art events lately. Talks, galleries, openings. Some of them leave me questioning why I enjoy art at all. There is beautiful stuff and plenty of interesting things to hear and say, but I sometimes I feel left with a hallowness; like in the grand scheme of things it doesn't mean that much. It isn't feeding starving children, helping me question/define my beliefs, or even making anyone smile.

Somehow Jared Greenleaf's journal clips revived my hope. They are his life, interpreted by his own hands and eyes and are shared with (and depict) those he loves. I can't think of any type of artwork more invaluable.

A kid in my class said he felt inspired to go home and sketch too. I bet a lot of us did.

digo contigo.

On Friday night I went alone to a book signing in Salt Lake. The solitude of the evening felt more like liberation than loneliness. I played my music loudly and reveled in all of the songs that I would've been embarrassed to listen to if I'd brought a friend along.
I heard about the book signing for Exodus on Radiowest's Thursday program. This image on the front cover is what compelled me to drive up and attend:
"It's acres and acres of desert, covered with thrown away panties, braziers, trousers, blouses, day packs, shoes, cosmetics, and empty food cans. And what you see is what you call a dump site; a drop point. (This) picture is taken 40 mi. north of the border. Mexicans have walked several days to get there. They're met by vans that have clothing bought at a Walmart. When they strip naked and get in this new clothing, they get in the van. Then they're taken to a stash house ... then they're shipped around the United States. What you're looking at there, is a Statue of Liberty. What you're looking at is Ellis Island. What you're looking at is where millions of Americans enter the United States."
- Charles Bowden (photo by Julian Cardona)

Afterward I drove to my brother Carl's apartment so he could help me with Spanish. He taught me how to say "I am _____-ing" and " I am going to ______."
I love studying Spanish with Carl. We get all tired and giggly. We laughed ourselves to tears once when I mistakenly used the word for "pig" (cochina) in place of the word for "kitchen" (cocina.) It always feels a little bit like it did when we were best friends as kids.

fall arrivals.

It's official. Fall is here and the best summer of my entire life is drawing to a close. I wore a hoodie to work this morning because it was cold outside. I received an e-mail from the grad student who will be teaching my Spanish class telling me to get ready.
Thanks to everyone who made my most fantastic of all summers possible. I have no regrets and I hope you don't either.

Fall has brought with it a few unexpected surprises:
1. A new quilting obsession ( I couldn't stop thinking about different quilt designs at work today. Weird!)
2. Llamas! I took this picture only 20ft. away from my bedroom window. I can't walk or drive past them without shouting (really to myself) how cute I think they are. But I love that they all turn their heads and perk their ears up every time.