things are good.

Ahh.

I'm bathing in the afterglow.

Yesterday I got the keys to my first home ever !!!! The house is gorgeous, I feel absolutely liberated, and I am so, so happy !

Pics to come soon. xoxo!!

7:53 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Puchis the fluffball lives another day.

I was gonna get Puchis shaved today.

Lucky for him, that punkass furball won't get shaved till Sunday. 

I'm gonna take him to Puppycrombie and Bitch.  And I'm gonna pay more to get him shaved than I pay to get my freaking hair cut. 

But at the end, he's gonna look like this.  And that's gonna make it all worth it.  I love him, but damn, he's making all my clothes look like angora sweaters. 

3:49 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

ulcers.
Current mood: vexed

I've been waiting now since June 9.

On June 9 I was supposed to close on my house. I had visions of housewarming party and new refrigerators dancing in my happy little head.

That was before they told me that the mortgage situation is fucking everyone's paperwork up, so now I gotta double- and triple-prove my shiz.

That was before I got denied, and then approved, and then re-denied by CHFA for mortgage assistance.

And now, I'm waiting on the benevolence of the Denver bond program, which I am praying will accept my sorry chicanita ass.

The impact of this drama has not been unnoteworthy. I have responded by a) diving even more intensely into work, b) drinking way too much, and c) obsessing. None of those things are healthy.

But when I try to carve out some "me" space, all I can think about is the fact that I have to do laundry but that I hate having to pay for laundry, and if I was already in my new place, I'd have my own damned washer and dryer and wouldn't have to go to the god damned bank and get quarters since Safeway's no longer gives out $10 quarter rolls.

So. Yeah. This is probably how people get ulcers.

In other news. I'm shaving Puchis today. He's gonna get pwned.

8:58 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

questions on anger.
Current mood: betrayed

I have a question for you all (I mean... all two of you, probably, who read this):

How does one move past anger?

I've never been good at being angry at anyone. Nor have I learned how to hold grudges and then move past them. I have such a squirrel-sized memory anyway, that I rarely even remember anything worth being angry about.

But, on the very rare occasions that I am hurt and then become angry about it, the emotion is a raw, mean, and spiteful energy that seems to bubble up out of me. It is like tar, dark and sludgy and poisonous.

I hate being angry. I try so hard to live my live guided by principles of love and respect. But, right now, I am angry, and the other party doesn't acknowledge, recognize, or even care about this emotion. That slap in the face hurts, makes me want to cry, but it also makes me abso-fucking-lutely furious. And it's agonizing.

So, what do I do? How do I move past this? How do I get back to peace?

7:27 PM - 3 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

ipod on random...

Gratuitous blogging:

Ten ipod tracks ...

1. Maria, Cafe Tacuba
2. Rape Me, Nirvana
3. Poema XV, Alejandro Sanz
4. Hurt, Johnny Cash
5. Rayito de Luna, Trio Los Panchos
6. Que tal si te compro, Raza Obrera (?)
7. Where is Everybody, Nine Inch Nails
8. Primer Discurso del Salvador Allende, Salvador Allende
9. Siempre Hace Frio, Selena
10. King of Congo Bongo, Manu Chau

7:31 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

where you been, julieah dreams?
Current mood: happy

ok I’ve been lame for not posting in so long.

But things have been so good! Thought I’d give y’all a life update.

1. I’ve actually started training for the triathlon!! For those of you who didn’t know, one of my new years resolutions was to do a tri. But for the first couple months it was so easy to make excuses: I didn’t have a gym membership. Didn’t have running shoes. No bike. Didnt like the way chlorine fries my hair.

But! This past week I’ve started putting my $ where my mouth is. I really, really want to be healthy. And, no, healthy isn’t just shopping at Sunflower and getting a CSA box.

So! I’ve been investing in my life. I got real workout clothes, cause I felt like a slob, wearing pajama pants to the gym. Then after a day of running in my old pumas (and having the worst back pain the next day), I got some real running shoes. Renewed the gym membership.

And, yesterday, I bought my first real bike!!! Not a $25 yard sale bike-- this one actually fits me, and now I even have a dorky helmet ^_^. Pictures to come soon.

All in all... Having the right tools is really helping me motivate myself to do what is right for myself. And so instead of sticking around here and writing more on the blog I’m gonna hit up the bike trail for the first time, ever.

Wish me luck! More life update to come soon. Promise.

X O

10:38 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

word to the wise re: credit cards.
Current mood: wicked

Word to the wise:

I called both of my credit card companies last night.  Told them I was going to close my accounts with them, because I had another offer from a differenct company, offering 0% APR transfer rates.  Within five minutes, I had halved my interest rate on one of the cards (from 29.5%APR to 14.9%APR!!!!!!!) and lowered it by two points on another card. 

Bottom line:  They'll do anything to keep you hooked. 

11:43 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

m.a.c. happy.
Current mood: happy

I've found myself without a fall jacket. I think I lost it somewhere, sometime in the past couple weeks. No idea where, no leads.

So, this weekend the plan was to invest in a new fall jacket. One that's rain proof, has a hood, but is still cute, without being too "THIS IS A RAIN JACKET" (you know, bright orange or with a ton of reflective stuff). Something stylish. And something not too heavy, because I have great winter coats. I need a good fall coat.

But, after striking out at JCPenney's on Friday, on Saturday I tried Park Meadows.

Oooooh.

Park Meadows.

Capitalist paradise. Acres and acres of junk for me to buuuuuuuy..........

I tried really hard to stay on focus. But I'm so easily distracted by shiny things.
So I went to the Sephora store and the M.A.C. store (Julie Heaven!!!)

Didn't pick up anything at Sephora this time, but it's comforting to know that it's here in Denver and that I don't have to wait till the next time I'm in New York to get my makeup groove on.

But at the M.A.C. store..... (mmm).

First off, it's bigger than the stand alone M.A.C store in Cherry Creek. And better lit. However, they were short-staffed, super bummer. I felt really bad cause they were running around trying to cater to all those Littleton-type blond suburbia moms with only 4 staff on the floor. One at the cash register, two doing makeovers (one doing an awesome Halloween face on this woman for a costume party), so basically one person trying to cover an entire store. Sheesh.

So I helped myself out... looking at different stuff, playing with a couple different color combinations.

And then the only other woman of color in the store, this gorgeous. Gorgeous. black woman, standing there with her daughter, taps me on the shoulder.

"Girl, you look like you have a question. I promise you I work here, I'm just waiting for my husband to pick me up." Saweeeeet!

So I got some affirmation advice from her (yes, the colors I'd picked would work on my skin tone), and then was happily on my way. And then, since winter's coming (today's the first snow of the year.... sigh), I picked up a lip conditioner. we'll see how my lips fare.

Altogether, I got a M.A.C. pigment (copperized), an eyeshadow (nocturnelle), a new blending brush 275 (works wonders!!!), and a lip conditioner (tube).

Alas, no fall jacket. I'ma have to brave the cold, but I'll be looking damn good.

9:52 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

iPod on random.
Current mood: calm

1. Tu Voz, Javier Solis. Sexy mariachi.
2. Nothing But You and Me, Yo La Tengo. Quiet and haunting.
3. Malo, Bebe. Such a good song, except that I can barely underthand her Thpain Thpanith.
4. Walkin' After Midnight, Patsy Cline. One of my mom's favorites. Gorgeous.
5. Carita de Angel, Control. Julieta would be so proud! lol. Sexy cumbia.
6. El Armadillo, Aterciopelados. This song sounds like flying.
7. Lucifer, Jay-Z. This is the Black Album, although I prefer the grey album.
8. Las Nieves de Enero, Chalino Sanchez. Where's my corona???!
9. Just Like Heaven, the Cure. One of my all-time favorites!
10. Embajadores, Los Sonideros de Mexico...., Cumbia. Makes me wanna go dancing tonite. Maybe it's a sign.

3:10 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

poesia.

Here's a couple of poems, tweaked a little, for your reading pleasure.  Also, two poems that I love from two strong women of color, Maribel Ledesma and Suheir Hammad. 

In America
      ... suheir hammad
right now you are standing
on stolen land no matter
where you are reading this poem
i promise below you is stolen
land was lakota was navajo
was creek was
and was and is and is and
this fact does not change
because you do not think
about it or you thought
the last Indian died before you were
born or you were born 1/15 Apache
this poem is not blaming you but
allowing you an opportunity to do
something start by saying something and
from where you are standing look North
South look West look East and see
the theft the occupation happening now
and do something start by
saying something

Priceless
   ...Maribel Ledesma
 
My cultura's not for sale gringa 
when you grab a silver ring from 
an Indio's stand and ask 
"Koo-an-doh Koo-eh-stah" 
in your sorry ass Spanish

I've seen tourists in Mexican bordertowns 
Winter Texans in Tamaulipas 
Wild college kids on Spring Break 
Buying anything under ten dollars 
Smiling at impoverished children 
then 
Returning to a privileged America

It's not for sale 
though the sign says 
You get more for your dollar 
Less for your peso 
But 
My culture wasn't devalued.

I've seen gringos come for miles 
to hear a "real" Mariachi 
enjoy a few bailables 
watch some surviving Indian dances

But you can't capture us on a cd, 
photograph us and 
make us part of your collective memory

We have our own 
and in them 
You are still the gringo invaders of Texas 
the treacherous robbers of Aztlan 
the "big brother" of the north

In my memory 
you are a foreigner to me 
I will not give you our precious things

My people are not for sale

I am not a happy jarabe 
a rhythmic son 
a colorful Jalisco dress 
a Chiapas Zapatista

I am not the most vivid and publicized 
I am not a woman being beaten by police 
I am not a drug lord or president 
I am not a technocrat 
That is not my cultura 
That's the media

Precious things are sacred and 
your dollar will never buy you 
My memories 
My history 
My place in a community

My cultura's not for sale gringa 
and neither are my men 
"Dark, indigenous looking Mexicans" 
are for Anthro books and theses papers 
Not for the real world 
Not for your photo album

You cannot have my songs 
or dances 
or looks

You cannot buy the sacred stories 
the history of a revolution 
the pride of my cultura

These are priceless things 
which have been bought with blood of Mexicans

Mexicans alone 
Not for you gringa 
Not for the tourist 
Not for the journalist

Just for the Raza
Those of us who know we own it 
without having to buy it.
Copyright 1996 by Maribel Ledesma

Yo crecí de balazos
      ...julieah dreams

Grew up on my "government's" flag-waving, "democracy"-spreading military interventions
Since 1983:

Lebanon
Egypt
Grenada
Honduras
Libya
Bolivia
Kuwait
Iran
Iraq
Panamá
Colombia
Peru
Philippines
Liberia
Saudi Arabia
Iraq
Zaire
Sierra Leone
Iraq
Somalia
Bosnia-Herzegovina
Haiti
Albania
Congo
Cambodia
Iraq
Senegal
Kenya
Afghanistan
Sudan
Serbia
Afghanistan
Yemen
Iraq
Haiti
Pakistan
Lebanon
Somalia

And still today,…Iraq.
Our people fight wars abroad and at home
And when I say our people I mean all brown people around the world
Every day we choke down the same bullets in our barrios as they spit out in brown barrio streets in Baghdad
Us folks of color wake up some mornings to find shell casings in our bedrooms
and bugs in our phone lines
thanks to good old American imperialism and the Patriot Act

Missile manufacturer Lockheed Martin's mission is "we never forget who we're working for"
But my mother's belly carried memories of resistance with her while she carried me
and I was born remembering
And I came out fighting

I grew up on bullets and on short paychecks
Every other payday Friday my family felt intimately the tug of capitalism
like nooses around our collective necks
But while America has never run short on oppression
our people will never run short on vision
A new world is possible
And in order for her to be birthed,
a new America is necessary

Yeah, we grew up on bullets of warfare, desperation, and hate. 
And so some days I feel like Che Guevara, where I don't care if I fall
as long as someone else picks up my gun
and keeps on shooting.
But then I remember that this new world is larger than any one single person,
Larger than any one single vision
And as long as we come together tonight and
Remember that our hearts are muscles the size of our fists,
As long as we keep loving, keep fighting, and keep organizing,
We can bring this new world about
And like Angela Davis taught us,
Revolution is a serious thing.
but Cesar Chavez reminds us
that you're never strong enough that you don't need help.
And so I carry the lessons from my grandmothers about survival with me
And I carry our peoples' 500 years of collective resistance with me
And standing here in this room with you tonight,
For the first time, instead of bearing witness to the rainfire of bullets
that have washed away the seeds of past revolutionaries,
Tonight, I feel the gentle rains of a movement
growing the crops of a new vision, and a new world.
Because this nation grew up on bullets
But I dream of birthing change.

'because it's so hard to be a chicano man'
        ... julieah dreams

you whisper la causa into my ears like it was foreplay
talk about how you're really, really... really down

but less than two minutes later you're trying to
reconquer the aztlan that is my geography

and so I take a step back to remind myself about the five hundred years you've had me laying on my back
praying for the opportunity to be my hero, my aztec savior
because if you weren't my warrior prince,
you wouldn't know what to do with me

you couldn't deal with mother daughter sister and goddess royalty
and as for the unborn nation that exists in my belly
and like my grandmothers before me,
I will train the future generation in the ways of our ancestors: that when your back is against the wall/you tear down the wall.

Our children will remember the taste of their great-grandmother's tears.
they will intimately know the sound of my mother's laughter
they will carry with them the memory of tonantzin
and they will be able to see through your hypocrisy

but you're so quick to  respond, but "baby, you just don't know how hard it is to be a chicano man..."
like being a chicana is a walk in the park.  

you're so down for the brown
but only when being down doesn't call your own machismo into question

you admire my Chicana feminist strength
but only when it doesn't challenge yours

so today I am here to remind you
that I will walk alongside you
building a new movement based on dignity and respect
or else I walk alone.

9:06 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment