GATROS (aka Gabi and the Redemption of Speech)

The way we write is changing; therefore, the way we read inevitably follows. If our reading and writing is changing, they are the effect of our speech changing. Speech is changing drastically within a shockingly short period of time. We make fun of it; we call it silly and impractical the way youngsters use acronyms for every little thing, the way slang is the new-er norm, the way technology creates new words and idioms all together. If you’re not in the know, you won’t understand, quite literally. However, all the fun you’re having by poking at it isn’t going to make it slow down; in fact, it seems to be an inevitable turn humans have unconsciously chosen. Humans are redeeming the spoken word, whether intentionally or not.

Speech is the oldest form of communication known to mankind, especially before the written word. Written communication is useless without speech, being only an abstraction of speech. Without a speech interpretation, a lone word, letter, or phoneme is completely useless. Following speech, the next mass form of communication invented by man was architecture and art. Architecture was a major medium for speech from ancient to medieval cultures in order for them to record their values, beliefs, and histories for everyone to see. For example, the ancient Egyptians didn’t even have a word for “art” because their art was simply a didactic form of communication. Their history and values were recorded for the worlds following them to find through hieroglyphics, displayed in their temples, living quarters, pottery, cemeteries, and pretty much every piece of “art” constructed within the realm of architecture. Not to mention a vital reason for visual art as a preferred form of communication would have been because the majority of humans were illiterate.

After architecture came an even more impressive, impactful mass form of communication: literature. Victor Hugo, in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, I believe, stated, “The book killed the building.” After literature became more readily available for the masses, people didn’t have to refer anymore to the art governments and churches monopolized in order to define their own values and histories, even more pungent of a meaning for The Hunchback of Notre Dame, signifying that the mass printing of the Bible allowed people to study and interpret the Bible for themselves rather than be at the mercy of the church and its teachings.

Literature’s impact has lasted up until today, and yes, so has architecture to a certain degree. However, despite architecture still being valued today, the messages of architecture are not expressed so literally on its inside and outside walls the way they once were. Literature, on the other hand, can still carry a message as explicitly as it cares to; however, many view literature as a “struggling” or “dying art,” no longer valued as an essentiality but simply an “art,” a luxury. This is because literature is not instantaneous. Today, we have modern technology in order to share an idea, persuade, or instruct. Phones, e-mail, instant messaging, texting, skyping, are all instant forms of communication that can be shared and distributed from one person to the next as quickly as the words coming out of one’s mouth. It’s safe to say that this instant form of technological communication is as quick and gratifying as speech itself. Sure speech is changing, and sure the way we write and read is changing, sometimes more for the worse than the better, but it’s exciting because it shows the innovation of humans going back to their roots of speech. Think of how different mass communication today is from the clergymen of the Middle Ages sitting in a dimly lit room slaving away, copying word for word of purely expository language just to share it with another person. So, let’s just give up on this losing battle and embrace this new face of communication. Sure, it’s young and often quite acne-ridden, but it’s exciting, and social, and innovative.

Gabi and Her Top 5 Teacher Films

I was in the Teaching Certification Program to teach high school English or Reading. I got out… for various reasons.  I blamed it on my most recent field work experience. The teacher I was shadowing was pretty much an out-of-the-closet bigot and put her students down every chance she got, whether behind their backs or right in front of the class (i.e. calling them out for stuttering or ranting during presentations, complaining about them being dyslexic and the nerve of them to reflect her teaching skills on their AP essay scores, and finally, putting a student on the spot for being Muslim and for defending Pakistan for being “not exactly the way it is portrayed by American media”).

I dreaded showing up to that class for my field work, and I couldn’t dare to call her out for any of it due to the grade hanging over my nose, being intimidated as hell, and if I’m being honest, for me having low self-efficacy as a result of personal crises I was suffering from brought on by someone I’ve only recently cut ties with for my own sake.

Still, I didn’t only reach this self-awareness until now. So, I just thought I didn’t want to teach anymore, without analyzing how I came to that conclusion. I could write a manual on self-denial and repression. So, I changed my major to just English and applied for late graduation for the fall and started searching for internships (Blue Star was a big contender, but I eventually had to turn down an interview, though I would’ve loved that). However, taking this summer off was the best thing I could’ve done for myself because I really started to scrutinize my goals, pursuits, and priorities. In the end, with a lot of persistence from my dad, help from friends, and enough time with myself, I decided to continue with the program. Now I feel good about it. I feel great about it. I’m enthused again; in fact, more than ever before. It’s funny how it took so much self-doubt, effort, and frustration to get back on an original track, but I guess distractions and divergences can be more complex than the words themselves.

I’m still nervous about teaching. It’s the perfectionist in me; she makes me anxious and self-conscious, because I want to be the best and I’m competitive even when it’s just me against me. However, that’s just something I’m gonna have to work through, because I know this is something I feel very strongly about.

So, in celebration of me being back on track in the Teaching Certification Program, I’ve created a list of the Top 5 Teacher Films Ever Documented, according to me and the few I’ve actually seen from beginning to end; so, this isn’t the faculty, just my own little narrow critiques of film, which I am in no place to be judging to begin with. Now, anyone who expects to see Freedom Writers here just please leave this page; I’d rather have no readers than you as a reader. The only reason I have so much animosity towards that film is because a professor actually made us watch that film in one of my education courses. A professor! This is college, and all of her students are working on their Secondary Teaching Certification looking for real teaching instruction! This isn’t Hollywood; this is reality, and I am paying a lot of money to learn classroom management and how to create substantial curriculums/lesson plans, not watch a flatly scripted film with a single Good Vs Evil conflict (the teacher being “good” and the students being the “evil” from the “bad” neighborhoods that the teacher “straightens out” with her big heart and good humor)! NO, I am talking about films that give as much respect to the students as they do to the teachers, respecting that both are human and complex, and there is more grey in the classroom than just black and white. It’s not “Me teacher, you student.” It’s “We’re both human; therefore, we’re both tired (b/c life is tiring); so, how can we make this work (b/c no one can teach you how to teach, not even college. Trust me)

                                                              1. Half Nelson

One of the most inspiring independent films I’ve ever had the pleasure of streaming online. The film follows an eighth grade history teacher from the Bronx, ambitiously trying to teach his class the succession of history through dialectics, a theory that sums up change as a result of two opposing forces in constant clash, with a crack cocaine addiction. Eventually, as it consumes him, a student of his discovers this secret, as she struggles to deal with her own personal turmoil at home, her own coming-of-age, and the constant pressure to become involved in a lifestyle her own teacher partakes in. Eventually, they become friends and, despite their teacher-student relationship, realize they can help each other more than initially thought. Plus, the soundtrack is pitch-perfect. The final “transaction” scene of the film, with “Shampoo Suicide” by Broken Social Scene playing in the foreground is probably one of the most emotionally dense scenes I’ve ever witnessed in a drama.

                                                              2. Stand and Deliver

I remember watching this film for the first, second, third, and tenth time. Edward James Olmos really makes this film transcend any clichés because he’s such a brilliant actor. Actors that brilliant are most likely just brilliant people and can’t possibly contain it in front of the camera even if they tried. It’s a great story, great dialogue, great acting, mostly by Senor Olmos. Basically, it’s the story of a high school math teacher struggling to get through to his students in an urban school of Los Angeles. It’s realistic, sympathetic, and inspiring, revealing that there is a fine line between being teacher and being baby-sitter. Turns out, if you wanna be a good teacher, well you’re probably going to have to work harder than most others. It’s a tough reality that many people don’t realize, thinking teachers only “follow the outlines given to them and not much else,” much like a baby-sitter. Sure, you can do that, unless you actually want your students to graduate high school with the education of a high school degree. There are a few sub-stories within the film that follow the lives of the students, but the film really captures our attention when Olmos is on screen. Woh, can you tell I’m a little obsessed with the guy? I’ll reel it back in a little; sorry you had to see that.   

                                                              3. Happy-Go-Lucky

Okay, this film is purely teacher-oriented, but her concern for her students and the socio-politics of the education system hover over the film pretty much the entire time. She parties, she celebrates, she stays out late, she dates, she’s sarcastic, she dresses cool, AND she’s a teacher who actually cares about her students??? I love it! The title pretty much says it all without exaggeration. “Poppy” is an optimistic, outgoing, peppy woman, who literally sees the best in everything and everyone. She contrasts against everyone in her native city, London, as they try so hard to appear as tainted as they think they should be in order to be “cool.” She’s obnoxious, she doesn’t shut up, but she is so happy all of the time that you envy her for her constant sunny disposition. You think she’s just out-of-touch with reality or has been sheltered or something for her to be so cheery all of the time. The film leads you to believe Poppy “lives in her own little world.” However, the point of the film is that we are the ones who live in our own little worlds, consumed by our problems and struggles, and then projecting them onto everyone else. It’s only Poppy though who really is a part of the bigger picture, able to interact with others, sympathize with others, without just thinking of herself, even though she has problems too. She’s not selfish, she’s self-aware, and secure enough in her own skin to not let her faults consume her. Overall, she’s as forgiving with herself as she is of others, allowing her to connect with different people and places. Teaching is, above all else, a job where you’re constantly interacting with other people, tuning in on other people’s reactions in order to figure out where they need help, building relationships and networking within the classroom, home, and state realms. Poppy’s my teacher role-model, man. I love this film!

                                                                   4. School of Rock

Everyone wants to be a Jack Black teacher. He’s made some pretty cruddy movies, but this one’s good in my book. Sure, he’s a terrible core-subject teacher, but he’s a great music teacher.

                                                                       5. Le Classe

Probably one of the most realistic depictions of a “classroom” film, Le Classe follows a teacher and his students throughout a school year in an urban middle school in Paris, France. There is no home-life depicted; it’s all school. The teacher is frustrated, the students are tired, the teacher gives up, students give up, teacher tries again, some students respond, some don’t. The film doesn’t have a grand, happy ending. The school year ends and the new one starts. It’s an interesting film, depicting the cycles of education, with its social and political flaws within the classroom. More than anything though, the film follows teacher-students interaction, and surely, everyone who watches the film has their own opinions as to how the teacher could’ve done his job better, just like the real people in the real world.

Gabi and Her Summer's Best Books

I took this summer off from school, allowing me time to catch up on some much deserved reading. Ideally, I would’ve read more, but I ran out of time. I applied for a job at a local bookstore, and it didn’t work out. So, obviously I’m being punished for not having read more. Still, the books I did manage to squeeze in, I’ve ranked and rated. I tried to read books that I wouldn’t normally read during the school year, as an English major.

1. Geek Love by Katherine Dunn

                I had high expectations, but I didn’t know what I was getting into when I googled “Top 10 Most Disturbing Novels of All Time” http://listverse.com/2008/09/29/top-10-most-disturbing-novels/. Geek Love was ranked as #5, and I was immediately intrigued because it had been referred to me in the past, but I never could recall the title, only the excitement the reader got from talking about it.  This realist horror follows a family of travelling circus “freaks,” who call themselves “geeks.” It’s a Romantic, carnival, gothic world that makes the “normal” humans seem bland and ignorant, seeking enlightenment and beauty that only the freaks seem able to achieve. The story is narrated by Oly, the complex albino dwarf who envies and idolizes her siblings for their grand abnormalities. The family is doomed from the moment of conception, but their real downfall lies in the manipulation of Arturo the Aqua Boy’s cult-personality and following, as he manipulates his parents and siblings, Oly, the Siamese twins, and the telekinetic Chick, into mental and physical destruction. Overall, the novel, not unlike the film Freaks, is so attractive because it feeds on our voyeuristic desires to dwell on these asymmetrical humans and their aberrancies.

"They thought to use and shame me but I win out by nature, because a true freak cannot be made. A true freak must be born."-Oly (Geek Love)

2. Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind

                I’d had my eye on this novel for a long time, but never found the time to pick it up. It is also considered as one of the most disturbing novels of all time but in a much more subtle way. The entire novel is narrated in the head of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, and of the 300+ pages, he never utters a single line of dialogue. It is probably the most sensory dense novel I will ever read. The catch is that Jean was born without a scent on him; however, he has the strongest sense of scent in Western Europe, as far as we know. Because of his lack of scent, people are weary and disturbed by him, viewing him as alien, but unable to articulate why. While, with his strong sense of scent, he is repulsed by the magnitude of retched auras humans carry with them at any given moment. Still, later in his life, he discovers one scent that he absolutely obsesses over, I mean, this novel really demonstrates the human heart’s ability to cling onto something to the point of madness, and he just has to have it, and bottle it, and soak in it. Overall, this novel gave me the creeps, and I finished it because I’d started it, but I don’t see myself reading it again.

3. Alive: The Story of the Andes Survivors by Piers Paul Read

                Basically, on October 12, 1972, a plane carrying a team of rugby players from Uruguay to Chile crashed on the Andes mountains, sixteen out of forty-five remain, their story made headline news, for they were middle/upper class conservative young men, and in the end they resorted to cannibalism. Enough said.

4. This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color by Gloria Anzaldua and Cherrie Moraga

                Look this up on Amazon; at used, it starts at $89. I found it for $12. Best deal of my life! I’ve read this book before; my university’s library keeps it on reserve, so I’d stop by and read a little every week in between classes. Still, now it’s mine, and I open it almost every day. Probably one of the most inspiring, beautiful collaborations or anthologies of poetry, history, and essays ever contrived by either men or women. This anthology discusses and liberates cultural stigmas, women interrelationships, and female self-images. I would recommend it to any person of any background.

Gabi and the Brains and the Geeks Part Une

I've been getting a lot of questions regarding the title of my blog. Well, I didn't really look for blogging; blogging kind of fell into my lap, and even now with it here, I tend to forget about it, thus the recent lack of posts. Blogging has a heavy stigma attached to it that I didn't bother questioning until I ran into Walter Mignolo's blog, http://waltermignolo.com/, after having researched his theory of "Decolonial Aesthetics" for my senior seminar's final paper. His theory suggests that only through aesthetics, art, can the oppressed classes, a product of Modernity, be given a voice with the purpose to liberate sensibilities and aesthesis of the oppressors and  raise the oppressed classes to equality; I recommend checking it out if you're interested or asking me if you have any questions regarding his theory. After dedicating so much time to this theory, my interest in his published works came close to idolatry; so, I was pretty enthused and confused when I realized he had a blog. That was the first reason. The second: one of my favorite English professors has a blog specifically focusing on mestizaje and the politics, psychosis, and cultural phenomenon within pop culture as a result of that, that I began to follow. Thirdly, my sister has a blog that she fell in love with and was very insistant that I should birth one too if ever I want true meaning in my life:)

So, that's how it started. Now that I've justified this thing, I never have to explain it again. On to the title now.

It's pretty simple, and way cooler than you probably would've thought possible. 
Ladies and Gentlemen, Freaks and Geeks, Punks and Dwarves, Hermies and Scholars, 
"Geek Brains" is simply a synthesis of the novel, Geek Love, and the band, Bad Brains.  
Happy?
I am.

Gabi and the Hot Summer, One Dress, and 4 Outfits

Gabi and the Expectation for Employment but Anticipation for Unemployment

                                    

I work for one of my university’s federally funded outreach programs, and since we failed to use up all of the funds this past school year, the program will not be refunded for the fall. My hours are being cut fast; so, I am now back on the market, the job market that is. Ugh, this was already my third job this year, and I was just starting to get past the point where I’m not just comfortable with finally getting a steady income, but getting rather cocky about having a steady income. “Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little wallet, my treat.” Well, not anymore.

I have big travelling plans for the end of the summer too; so, I really can’t afford to let my already deprived bank account slip. So, I’m pretty much throwing rolled up applications and résumés at business establishments like a paperboy trying to cover a fifty mile radius in less than an hour.

My guess is, under such short notice and urgency, I’ll get stuck in retail for the rest of the summer. Meaning, I will be working weekends again. Wah! I don’t mean to act like a baby; I just don’t want to be treated like an adult.

I’m also trying to whip up an out-of-this-world/I-must-employ-you-now résumé for an internship in the fall. The catch is it needs to be done by tomorrow morning, writing portfolio and all.  Maybe it’s unrealistic, but I’m trying to convince an organization to choose me for the internship, even though one of the requirements is an ENG degree, meaning you have it physically in paper, you’ve walked the stage, shook the hand of the guy in the wizard costume, the whole enchilada, and I have not. I have a semester to go before all that shiny stuff that says I’m now tolerable within the elite academic community that puts too much weight on titles and gives too much credit to pseudo-intellectuals mooching off the real brains like brain-eating zombies with decent salaries.

Speaking of brain-eating zombies, I went to a friend’s family barbeque this past Monday at her uncle’s house. Now I had never met her uncle before, but he was… eccentric. I think he’s an old veteran or something, and maybe a little toasted in the head, which is really a whole other bag of worms about how this govt uses propaganda to mislead the young and innocent into war and then leaves them to cope in society on their own.  Aside from that though, while my friend and I were waiting in the living room for the food to be finished, her aunt walks across the room with a hunting bowie knife.

“What’s that?” I ask

She gives a small smile and says, “It’s… from our survival kit.”

I smile with my teeth because I think she’s joking. But she’s not. In my mind, I was picturing something like a small fishing bait box filled with some useful tools for them to use when the power goes out. However, when I ask if I can see this “survival kit,” you know, just to see how people’s ideas of what’s necessary to survive differs, I am totally caught off guard by what she shows me. To my surprise, there is an empty room with a wide closet filled with four huge hiking backpacks, each weighing about 50 lbs, filled with thermal blankets, axes, antibiotics, knives, flare guns, and whatever else you can imagine Bear Grylls would take with him if banished to Siberia by himself.

“…What are they for?”

“Well, _____ says it’s in case the economy crashes.”

“Interesting,” I say, even though I’m thinking he’s prepared more for a zombie apocalypse than a dip in the stock market. 

Is it paranoia or substantial preparation? Security is a sham, I got that. But is the job market so bad that some people are not just preparing but expecting a total chaotic uproar of workers? Maybe instead of passing out applications, I should pass out flyers that say “Economic Apocalypse Coming Soon! Just Quit Your Jobs and Run for the Woods!” Then these employers will be forced to hire me, by default.

Gabi and Doing Stuff In the Rain

                                      

I tried my hand at spoken word once. I’d written an angry ode about the education system and the deteriorating role of educators. I had one of my writing friends look over it, and in the kindest way possible, he said it was crap. I was offended and stubborn, because I’d written it in the moment, overwhelmed with frustration and angst. However, now in retrospect, it is crap. Funny how when the storm calms, things seem more shallow and disposable. Can humans even have a pure moment anymore without feeling like they may be imitating some scene from a film or repeating some lines from a character? Is this making sense? We may try to work creatively and independently for solely intrinsic satisfaction, but in the end, the extrinsic is always there, waiting just on the other side from the window of your phone, computer, ipad, etc. Do we ever really forget it’s there? With limitless access to the public, media, and language, how can we not serve it, even unconsciously, with everything we do?

Today was a day off for me, and I spent it alone. I love spending time by myself. It’s therapeutic and extremely relaxing for me. Sometimes, when I let it go on for too long though, like weeks, or sometimes even months, I crave association with others and I become social again. Now, I can honestly say that I love spending time by myself, but others would maybe roll their eyes, tell me not to be so self-loathing, and get over myself, because it’s not cool to be so angsty and anti-social anymore. The thing is, I’m not! I’m genuinely happy alone; I even wore a bright fruit-patterned skirt today, I was so happy, seeing the sequenced cherries glittering from the sun! Still, those "others" are so used to this overrated Byronic character they see in movies and TV, you know the awkward kid that’s not really awkward outside of having glasses and at the end attracts their secret admirer for being so "mysterious and complicated." Give me a break! Can I enjoy a day by myself without you accusing me of trying to be a character I don’t relate to at all? On the other hand though, I will admit that there are people who do just that. Surfing through Facebook (sometimes I can be a creeper like that, and it’s usually around the time I’m beginning to want social interaction again), I came across a profile pic of an acquaintance of mine, she was in her room, holding the camera up to her face not-so-nonchalantly, her eyes were red, her lips were swollen, she was obviously distraught and crying. I’m thinking, "Really? We get it, you’re a pretty crier, but is this necessary?" It made me feel sick, turn off the computer, and extend my alone time to the next few weeks. I keep thinking about what could have come over her to make her think, "Not only am I crying, but let me document this and post it publicly." Reality TV is undoubtedly her destiny.

Basically though, we want recognition for our lives, and we may just be imitating those who got that recognition. I have a friend who uses "cool cat" and "darling." Is that him being fake and shallow? Well, that’s certainly not modern lingo; so, he’s obviously taking pointers from old art scenes, but people don’t mind, in fact, they love him for that. Are you still following, because my ideas keep wanting to diverge as I struggle to stay on track here?

Basically, a prime example would probably be of walking in the rain. How about dancing in the rain, kissing in the rain, singing in the rain? We would probably still do it even without the hundreds of film and music references, but since they exist, can we do it without thinking of any of those references? And since we can’t do any of those things without a film/music scene depicting the same thing popping into our heads, are we actually doing it for intrinsic pleasure or for the extrinsic satisfaction of someone passing by and seeing you or of being able to share with your friends the next day as they say, "Aw, how romantic"?

If so, I’m just coming into terms that maybe it’s not a bad thing. This is only because I do this too. I went camping with my family a few years ago, and I have a distinct memory of bathing in the river with my older sister after dark. It was a really pretty moment, just being with her, the stars’ reflections twinkling on the black surface of the water and soap suds floating around like little fairies. We felt like nymphs in the water, completely isolated from the rest of the world, and I thought about how beautiful it would be to reenact a moment like that in film because it meant so much to me. Does this make me a sell out in life? I’d say no. But then, at what point is too far? At what point do we begin to exploit ourselves and reality with public documentation?

Well… I’d say the moment hipsters get their hands on it :)

Gabi and the Black, White, and Brown: In Print

I work in dowtown San Antonio in an office. It's pretty awful, nothing but white walls and fully-blasted A/C that makes you wish you were outside in the Texas heat. Today, I had an interesting conversation with one of my co-workers that I keep rolling over in my head. While mentioning some "great Mexican restaurant" in the south side, he was explaining that it is right next door to a recently built public library in the area. He then lowers his voice and leans in, as if he's about to say something really crucial, and says, "but it's the completely wrong part of town for a library," leaning back in his chair and making eye contact as he awaits my response. I'm completely stunned. "Maybe I misunderstood," I think.
"Wait, what? Can you say that again?" I ask.

"All I'm saying is that it's just not the right side of town for a library," he says again.

Beginning to comprehend, I'm trying to look for some kind of miscommunication, giving him the benefit of the doubt. When i don't find any, I give him my most mocking, intimidating smirk and ask, "Are they not worthy of a library, or what?"

Immediately on the defense, he tries to reason by saying, "Well, they're not even going to benefit from something like that, and, I mean, it's only been a few weeks and already there's graffiti."
Before I can open my mouth, he goes even further in his ignorant efforts to justify his words by saying, "Well, I grew up in an area like that, so...."
As if that justifies the misconceptions floating around in his little blonde head.

"I grew up in an area like that too, and I was able to benefit from the public libraries. In fact, I'm an English major now. Your reasoning just doesn't make sense. Aren't libraries built to give free access to books, movies, and information? What benefit would a community get from libraries if they were only built in areas that could already afford to buy their books for $16 each at a Barnes & Noble?"

Sometimes, I feel as though I'm ignorant of the mass ignorance that plagues our communities. I want to give others the benefit of the doubt. For reasons i can't explain, I am still shocked by blatant prejudice, discrimination, injustice, and profiling. I am still shocked by the youth I find that are as cold as 60 year old conservatives, wanting to hoard resources for themselves without an inkling of sympathy or bashfulness.

He's not the first person I've encountered with views like that. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder if people like him confide in me with their gross prejudice because my skin is light. Maybe they don't know I'm Mexican; maybe they don't know that my parents are both immigrants, or that their race used to make me feel inferior with their racial jokes, portrayals, and titles.
I'm not sure how I was supposed to respond to his comments, but what's said is said, and he didn't respond after that.

Gabi and the Cynic

For as long as I can remember, my parents have introduced me as their “mature” daughter. I always hated that title, rolling my eyes and biting my tongue when they’d say it. For me, “mature” alludes to all things boring, dull, conforming, constricting, and too realistic to be creative, imaginative, or progressive. I even remember one guy that I was really into at one point describing me as “the epitome of self-restraint.” Ugh, just thinking of how those few words hurt my little adolescent heart, especially coming from a time when you’re trying to impress your peers by proving just how “wild” and “uninhibited” you can be.

Still, when I think about it, it just doesn’t sit well with me, it never has. This is because when I really try to think of what maturity is, and if I am that, I can’t seem to define it. Really, at the end of the day, the line between childhood and adulthood is blurred, dashed, dipped, or non-existent all together. Adults are simply children with more responsibilities forced upon them, driven by the same physical wants and needs. Adults process thoughts differently, having more physical and sensory experiences to adapt them to and process them through. And adults are physically different sure, in that they’re stronger and more active, but their bodily functions and receptors are still essentially the same.  The responsibilities that define people as adults are simply expectations that condition us into certain lifestyles brought upon us by society. So, if this is the case, then maturity is just one big fallacy, a socially-construed term to help us cope with our lives that will continue to move forward, further from responsibility-free childhood. Of course, it’s never quite that simple, and I am aware that many more factors go into this equation, humans having free will, therefore, actions and consequences, etc, etc. I think what I am getting at is simply a definition of maturity that I feel comfortable with.

Maturity is essentially cynicism. As we get older, we experience more, we see more, feel more, smell, hear more, and perceive more. We are more exposed, more vulnerable. We are inevitably tainted over any period of time. This is maturity. Even when children who are forced to take on responsibilities at a young age are described as “having had to mature at a young age, denied a proper childhood,” with the reasons usually due to them having had to experience something unfair or extraordinary that tainted them at an earlier age than most. We are smarter and wiser because we “know better.” We are not blissful because we are not ignorant. We are mature.

So, if you are willing to accept this notion, that maturity=cynicism, then answer this: What kind of culture are we promoting where maturity is encouraged, even though that is society asking its inhabitants to be tainted, while youth and liberty are criticized as fantasy and selfishness (thank you, Reagan administration)?  

So, I was never a mature child; I was a cynical child, more pessimistic than fantastical. I mean, if you had asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, at age seven, I would have said mermaid, but I wouldn’t have said artist, knowing monthly bills would be rough, and I had seen my parents struggle. If you were a loved one and couldn’t make me let go of your hand, it wouldn’t necessarily have been because I wanted to be close to you, but because I wanted to be protected from men I did not know, who stared and lurked. If you had asked me what I was gonna name my future daughter, I’d say I wasn’t interested in birth pangs. If you had asked what color I wanted my new bike to be, I would’ve thought of my friend, who was dragged off his bike and accused of theft for having dark skin. If you would’ve offered me drugs, I would’ve said “no, because I want to be in control.”

In the end, this maturity I’m cursed with is irreversible. I’m not trying to play the victim, I’m just satisfied with my definition, and I’m curious to hear what others think. I still dance, blush, chew with my mouth open, blow bubbles during class, and stick my tongue out at passers-by who stare, but maybe it’d be more laughs and less business if I had had different experiences thus far in life….Or maybe it’s all intrinsic, throwing my whole theory down the toilet:)

Gabi and the Quest for the Polka Dot Skirt

So, I haven’t bought anything full price in years, I’d say. That’s how frugal I am. Still, I love to shop. Now, everyone has their preference for where they like to shop, and every city/town has its own watering hole of good fashion finds; so, I can’t tell you where to go. However, I can tell you, if you have a local Buffalo Exchange, you should start there. Sure, Goodwill’s and Salvation Army’s are good sometimes, but you have to do a lot of digging through the same perpetual racks of Fruit of the Loom XXXL shirts before finding your diamond. So, at stores like Buffalo Exchange, or any other second-hand fashion store, because they are selective with their clothing to begin with, it lightens your load. Of course, each second-hand store tends to cater to a certain clientele. So, you’ll eventually find a place that fits you and your style just right, perhaps through trial and error. The best Buffalo Exchanges I’ve been to were in Austin and New Orleans. Also, just scanning through your city’s alternative newspapers/magazines will usually give you the low down on obscure fashion thrift stores. It’s like bird-watching, except you’re buying the birds and then wearing them. Don’t worry, animals look better off of me anyway.

This pink, black polka dot skirt is one of the few clothing pieces I own that is authentically vintage, meaning it is 50+ years old. Yeah, the word “vintage” is thrown around pretty loosely nowadays. It’s interesting, because according to the guy that was helping me out at the store, you know, the one owning me in heels, a lot of girls tried it on but I was the only one that walked out with it. You see, today, we expect our skirts to come with a basic kind of structure in the waist that we’re already familiar with. However, in the 50’s and 60’s, and even before that, the skirts fit differently, sometimes annoyingly. In this case, the skirt has a tiny waist that doesn’t really hold itself up, and is continually sagging, but it was so adorable that I took it anyway. My guess is that, because it was the norm for women to wear brassieres or… I don’t know how to say it in English, but I’m talking about fajas, you know, the really tight undergarments women wear to tighten themselves up, like spandex corsets, and that was what provided the structure of a “womanly” figure. Today, we are more natural with our figures, and basically either work hard to achieve that air-brushed Barbie look, or we just shake what we got. In this case, I don’t have a Barbie doll figure or a faja, so I’m just gonna use belts to keep the skirt up around my waist.

People mix and match for various reasons. If you can justify it, you can wear it. Some people get away with bolder patterns than others. Me personally, I’m 5’4”, not nearly tall enough to carry heavy, messy prints. So, this works for me because the prints are different, yes, but they have a common ground, in that the top has a picture, but it’s neat and simple, not busy and crowded. Also, the top has a base color that identifies with the skirt. Plus, the basic black belt brings it all down a few notches.

Now, remember that you’re never too old for any look, just probably too boring, but unlike age, that can be reversed! Above all else, though, never forget that the outfit doesn’t make the person, the outfit Adds to the person, so make it a good commentary not narrative.

Welcome

Boys, girls, freaks, geeks, and intellectuals, welcome to "Geek Brains," where brains are bad, good, and bizarre, where it's ok to stare, and it's ok to speak. It is a pleasure to have you as my guest. We will be good friends for a long time, I reckon. Allow me to introduce myself first. My name is Gabriela Preiss. My parents are both immigrants, but I was born in America. I was raised in San Antonio, TX, where my two sisters and I have reveled and marinated in the heat, smells, colors, festivals, rythyms, words, peoples, superstititions, and streets of Mexican/Latin culture. I am an English major, finishing up my final school year at UTSA (UTSA and UT having the leading Chicano literary depts. in the US), and I will begin my high school student teaching in the Spring of 2012.

My summer has only begun, and I plan on enjoying it. I am working, struggling to save up money to travel somewhere, anywhere, before school ends. My last trip was back in december, I had the fortune of visiting New Orleans for the first time, a dark, strange city that is undeniably gothic even on the sunniest days, celebrating their delapidated architecture, fast rythyms, and laid-back dispositions. The whole city seemed to be pressing in on itself, struggling to hold itself up from the constant pressure emitted by  the humidity, heavy basses, and swallowing cobble-stoned streets.