London Highlights and Lowlights

Let's get the bad stuff out of the way first:

FOOD: Terrible. I had heard that fresh veggies and good food were hard to find in London, but I thought that the fact that it's a world-class city would prove the critics wrong on both counts. Nope.

The only decent food we found was Indian and Thai, and even that was only passable (the Indian food was good, but honestly I don't think what we had was any better than Indian food we could get back in the Bay. Of course, we only had time to go to one Indian restaurant while we were there). And veggies? I think potatoes were the only vegetable we could find on a consistent basis, and the other veggies we had weren't very fresh or tasty. Fish and chips, however, were pretty yummy. And English tea, of course, was quite delicious (don't drink the coffee, opt for the tea for your caffeine fix instead). We brought a few boxes back from bling-bling department store Harrods (see picture below of their amazing Food Hall).





















Now on to the good stuff:

FREE MUSEUMS: Which are pretty much all the major ones. They're all free free free, all the time. We saw this cool installation at the Tate Modern, made up of hundreds of white plastic boxes piled high in the huge, post-industrial warehouse space behind the lobby.





We also went to the British Museum, which holds miles (literally) of antiquities from all over the world (yes, the British were major plunderers). We mostly focused our time on the beautiful, round National Library (first picture), where Karl Marx completed Capital, and the Egyptian collection. That second picture with H. is of the fist of a huge statue of the Egyptian Pharoah Ramses. We also saw the Rosetta Stone, which was pretty frickin' cool.








FASHION: I looked around everywhere we went (mostly in Central London, which is where the major sites are and where we were staying), and I swear, EVERYONE had a 'look' in London. Whether it was casual-preppy, high-fashion couture, punk-rocker girl, hip hop b-boy or whatever, everyone was sporting a very distinct and put-together 'fit that made me feel quite shabby in my used, slightly generic Seven for All Mankind jeans and boring-beige Ann Taylor Loft raincoat. And there is TONS of fashion shopping to do in London--it seemed that on every corner there was some kind of clothing store (although not as much as in Rome), catering to every income level and fashion taste. We spent the most time in Oxford Circus and on Knightsbridge (where Harrods and one of the H&M's are, as well as Zara and other big stores). Unfortunately, the British pound was worth almost twice the US dollar while we were there, so I didn't have much disposable cash to clothes-shop with. Boo-hoo.

SOCIALIZED HEALTH CARE: I actually got sick (a bad bout of food poisoning) while I was in the UK, and got treated speedily and cheerily in a small hospital outside London near Luton airport (Luton's a suburb that seemed to have a much higher population of people of color than central London). And all I had to pay for was the meds they gave me (rehydration salts and some anti-nausea medication). They didn't even ask to see my passport. I couldn't believe it. The US is so behind the rest of the industrialized world when it comes to health care, it's pathetic.

All in all, if there is any US city I'd compare to London, it would have to be New York. The constant crush of people, the multi-culti, high-fashion consciousness of the general populace, the late-night buzz on the streets (even though many pubs close around midnight, which is unheard of in the states, especially in New York), all reminded me of my trips to the Big Apple. There were lots of people of color in London, too, and we even saw a crew of Filipino men working and hanging out at a casino (I'm not even kidding) in Bayswater.

It's also an expensive city, like New York, but as a tourist you can see quite a bit without having to spend too much, thanks to the free admission at museums and such. And of course, there are just amazing layers upon layers of history in London, as in Europe overall, that are interesting to examine close-up, in churches or the architecture around the city, which you can see plenty of just wandering around the streets.


H. standing before Tower Bridge. We didn't get go inside the Tower of London, which is right next to the bridge, but I really wanted to. We ran out of time and it's quite expensive (around $30 I believe) but any history-buff would be crazy to not go take a look from the oustide at least (see picture below). This is, after all, the place where executions took place, where royal heads were lopped off (e.g. Ann Bolyn and other of Henry VIII's unfortunate, son-less wives) and royal prisoners were kept. Now it houses the crown jewels and is a big attraction for kids, if you can believe that.





This is Westminster Abbey, a nearly thousand-year-old church where all English coronations have taken place over the last nine centuries. We saw the tombs of King Edward the Confessor and Queens Mary and Elizabeth I here as well, not to mention the graves of other luminaries such as Sir Issac Newton, Oscar Wilde and Charles Darwin (yes, Darwin is buried in a church). These people never seemed real to me, since I'd only read about them or seen period movies about them that seemed more fiction than fact. But after seeing their graves, I left with a real sense of their mortality and their impact on the world. And of course, Prince Charles and Princess Diana were married in Westminster Abbey. It's quite a beautiful, awe-inspiring place. If you go, pay the extra 4 quid (pounds) and go on a verger-guided tour.

Strikes in Paris, Strikes in Oakland

When we were in Paris, we stayed with very kind hosts, friends of a friend who hadn't even met us before they welcomed us into their home. They lived in a small, top-floor apartment in Belleville, a neighborhood-in-transition not entirely different than the Oakland neighborhood I live in here. Lots of immigrants, mostly Asian but also African and Middle Eastern, lived in the neighborhood, along with white Parisians. (Dat Lan, an amazing Vietnamese-Chinese restaurant, was a couple blocks away).



















One of our hosts, a high school teacher in Paris, had been on strike as part of the city-wide general strike in, the day before we arrived. A GENERAL strike. The concept is virtually unheard-of here in the states, even in the progressive hotbed of the Bay Area. This is a strike when EVERYONE stays home and doesn't go to work. Where 'business as usual' stops for a day, a week, however long the unions, the student groups, whoever is organizing the people, decide. The Metro (subway) doesn't run, there are no schools open, the post office shuts down, etc. Everyday life comes to a standstill, and politicians and policy makers and corporate CEOs have no choice but to wring their hands, try to make backroom deals, and hope that the workers will come back soon. A general strike gives everyday, working people a huge amount of leverage in negotiations around things like the new labor law (CPE) that students and workers were protesting in France (the workers and students won, by the way).





































Today, Oakland Unified School District teachers (of whom I count several close friends) had planned to go on strike, since the district (run by the bulldozer known as State Administrator Randolph Ward) had refused to give them a good deal on health care (a major issue that has come up in other labor struggles recently, such as the Safeway/VONS strike, etc.). And then, as reported to me by my downstairs neighbor, who teaches at an OUSD school, the district pulled a fast one at the last minute: ten minutes before school let out yesterday, the district sent notices to all students and parents, saying that the next day (the day teachers had planned to strike) would be a 'student free day' but a mandatory work day for teachers. A smooth, manipulative way to try to take the punch out of the teachers' strike. If no students show up to school at the district's behest, is it really a strike, after all?




But it seems that the teachers' union and the district have reached an agreement, in the end. Still no details on it yet in the news, but union reps seem to be happy with it. Of course, it's not over yet. Union members still have to vote to ratify the contract, and there's no telling what they may think of it. Is it a real, livable contract with good health care conditions for Oakland's overworked teachers? Or is it a last-minute ditch-out/sell-out compromise that will weaken teachers' positions (and slim down their pocketbooks)?

Unfortunately, this is not Paris, and although the teachers' union was possibly going to be joined in their strike by school staff (secretaries, janitors, and the like), I didn't hear of any AC Transit bus drivers or UPS workers in Oakland striking in solidarity. We are a long ways off from having the kinds of mass-scale social movement that exists in France and other more industrialized nations, that's for damn sure.

But it is beautiful to see community members band together in response to the 'free day' / strike whatever it is. Oakland recreation centers will be staying open later to help take care of children who have no where to go since school isn't in session. My friend M. reports that her son's school, a progressive charter school in the Fruitvale district, had a parents' meeting recently to notify them of the status of the possible strike and help them make alternative childcare arrangements. And my organization has offered students a place to hang out in our offices if they have no where to go so that they don't get targeted by cops for truancy.

At this point, it's a wait and see game. Wait and see. And hope that, no matter what, the students will be the ones to win out in the end.

Back to the Grind and a Picture from Paris

Heading back to work today for the first time after my vacation. I actually managed to check work email only twice during these past two weeks, and I didn't respond to anything, just checked to make sure any emergencies were being dealt with. That's a big deal for me, miss Type-A borderline workaholic.

I'm actually looking forward to it. I'm one of those rare people that actually loves my dayjob/ work. Which doesn't always mean good news for my writing, but it is fulfilling to know that you are doing good work every day and that the people you work with appreciate you and your work.

Only 16 more weeks until the conference!! It sounds like a long time but I know it's gonna fly by. I'm coordinating the program and fundraising components (the revolution WILL be funded, dammit!), so I'll be a busy bee.

Haven't gotten a chance to upload all my photos on flickr, but here's one pic for you to enjoy, from Paris. This is the Arc de Triomphe, built on Napoleon's command to commemorate his Imperialistic military victories in Europe, built in the self-aggrandizing style of the ancient Roman Emperors' triumphant arches (I know because I saw those in Rome, too!), but actually not finished until well after his armies' defeat at the Battle of Waterloo. Hitler also marched his occupying forces through this Arc and down the Champs Elysees during World War II. So much history in Europe, so much to see and touch and experience with your own senses.

No Place Like Home

As much as I enjoyed my Europe trip (on the last night in Rome, I truly didn't want to leave, wanted to spend at least a few more days in the Eternal City), I am so glad to be home.

I get homesick rather easily, which is why I was pleasantly surprised to not feel much homesickness on this trip. Maybe once or twice, I longed for the creature comforts of my very American lifestyle (ah, hot water and good water pressure, and toilet seats!!) or the wildly diverse range of cheap ethnic foods one can indulge in in the Bay Area ("shall we have Ethiopian, Indian, Filipino or Japanese tonight, babe?"). But overall, I was totally immersed in and enjoying my European experience. (Well, there was one negative experience with a xenophobic Italian woman at the end of the trip that made me wish I could click my ruby-slippered heels three times and be back home, but I'll get into that later).

It's the little (or maybe they're not so little) things that make one appreciate home more than any other place on earth: The way the light shines in my apartment, with its white walls and clean, shiny hard wood floor. The feel of the cool wood under my bare feet, familiar yet somehow strange and new after two weeks of living in hotels and strangers' homes. A hot shower in your own bathroom after a long, long day (we were in the air and on the road for almost 24 hours yesterday). The comforting smells of home--clean sheets, clothes, blankets--the scents you take for granted when you are here and that you forget when you are away.

The time change from Rome to the Bay was 9 hours (right now it's nearly 4pm in Italy) so my body is a little disoriented, but I'm feeling simultaneously refreshed, exhilirated and body-fatigued to be home right now. I feel that I am back in my own place, where I belong.

Quick Update from Roma

I wish I had more time to blog while I'm here in Europe, but I don't have my beloved laptop and Internet cafes are time-sucks away from my precious sightseeing excursions, so I'll be brief.

I'm very excited to read in a Nation email today that the CPE (the awful proposed law in France that would have eliminated the little job security young French people have) has been repealed by Jacques Chirac in response to all the pressure from students mostly and also labor (University campus shut-downs, strikes, rallies, marches, etc.--at least one general strike our host in France, a school teacher, took part in). And in Italy, a new left-leaning President has been elected, booting out the rival incumbent, who was a staunch ally of Bush's vis a vis the war in Iraq. There are political posters up everywhere in Rome, including Green (Verdi) party and Reformed Communist party posters. We even passed a Communist party office the other day where a bunch of people were gathered in the street outside watching the exit poll results of the Italian Presidential race. The Nation reports that the election of this new President shows that Italian voters want out of Iraq.

Yesterday H. and I strolled around in awe in the Roman Forum, Palatine Hill and Colosseo (Coliseum). Of course we've been eating a lot of delicious Romano food and drinking some off-the-hook coffee everyday too. Now we're off to see our last big site of the trip: the Vatian Museums and the Sistine Chapel.

More updates and pictures of my trip--which, in short, has been amazing amazing amazing--when I return back home (and to my laptop and wifi :-)).

London Calling, Paris Burning?

Arrived safely yesterday morning in London. Had a bit of a challenge getting to the hotel in Bayswater (very close to Kensington Gardens, home of the mansion where Princess Di once lived) from Heathrow, but it all turned out fine in the end, and we were even able to check-in to our hotel room early so we could nap. But this only after we had our first full English breakfast, which reminded me a lot of Filipino breakfast (garlic fried rice, fried egg, and some kind of meat), only in London they give you toast instead of rice, of course. Pretty flavorful stuff, not bad. They even gave us a nice grilled tomato on the side.

The weather here is much like it is in the San Francisco Bay Area right now--partly cloudly, intermittent showers, a bit chilly. The sun was shining bright and beautiful for much of yesterday morning, however, making me feel as if the city was welcoming us with open arms.

Jet lag is a bitch, I have to say. We took a red eye out of Boston to London, arriving around 8am, and didn't get too much sleep on the flight. Who can sleep for more than hour sitting up in a space the size of a tiny closet? And then when we got here the sun was just rising over the horizon, the city just waking up to a surprisingly busy morning commute. Tourists, I'm guessing, and locals making their way to shops, a home decorating show that was going on in the city. We took a couple naps yesterday to try and compensate for the lag, but my body's still on Pacific daylight savings time, which right now would be 4:20am!

Went to the Tate Modern museum yesterday, a brilliant place (do I sound British yet? ;-)). All the big museums' main collections have free admission--ah, to be governed by a much-less-than-perfect Labour party still has its advantages--which is great since H. and I don't have a lot of money to spend on sightseeing (especially given the fact that the pound is worth roughly twice as much as the dollar right now). The Tate is housed in an old industrial factory in a seemingly desolate part of town, one that I'm guessing is in the throes of gentrification. All the signs are there--fashionably gritty industrial warehouses, a random fancy restaurant or two, a tiny black box theater tucked away in between--and the Tate I'm sure is helping to rapidly advance that trend.

The museum itself was stunning--a giant box of a space with a very phallic tower rising from its middle, topped by a strange purple-blue-lit observation deck (I think, we didn't get to go all the way up there). We saw a Pollack, a Picasso, a Matisse, some Calder mobiles in the 'Abstract Expressionism' section, an interesting installation of a giant concave, spoon-like sculpture that you can stand within, its reflective dark-red surface making you feel dizzy and claustrophobic and stimulated at the same time.

I've observed some interesting things about the British--well, maybe Europeans is a more accurate term, since there are so many German and French tourists here. Personal space is a very different thing here than in the U.S. (or California, at least). More than once I experienced a little discomfort because people (all white, but I really don't think that was the only reason for their ease at taking up space) would walk very close to me, or nearly collide with me, despite my best efforts to avoid doing so, and they didn't seem to mind, it seemed to them only a matter of course, that we were all in a space together, and that bumping into each other was bound to happen. For example, a British woman on the Underground brushed heavily against H.'s legs as he was sitting and she was walking past him. She mumbled 'Sorry' but it wasn't resentful, and she didn't pull away as quickly as she could (which is what would happen back home), as if his touch were burning her. She just kept moving along at the same pace.

For some reason this really strikes me, because I think this lack of obsession with personal space (relative to what I observe amongst my fellow Americans back home in the states) say something. Does it point to a greater sense of collective belonging? Of more ease within one's own bodies? Of less fear of others? Of none or all of these? All I can say for sure is that while it's jarring, it's also somewhat comforting, that I don't have to expend as much energy as I normally do back home avoiding any and all physical contact with the strangers (and friends) that may be close by.

Lastly, been following the news about the ongoing protests in Paris, because last week the protests grounded a third of the flights coming out of the city. Protests have turned violent, I read, although I wonder how much of that is property destruction, how much is fighting with the police, etc. Supposedly, no tourists have been injured. But I'm such a cynical reader that I have to find three stories to corrobate something before I'll begin to think of it as 'true'. Especially when the stories about protests.

There are demonstrations being called for Tuesday, April 4, the day we are supposed to fly into Charles de Gaulle. And while I support the protesting students, I am beginning to fret a little that our travel plans--both to Paris and to Rome, since we were to fly out of Paris--will be disrupted. The U.S. Embassy is warnings its citizens traveling in Paris to avoid large gatherings, as Paris police have been using tear gas to quell protests. (And me without my water-soaked bandanna, damn.)When I told him that I was both worried and excited about traveling to Paris during such intense movement activity, my boss joked that H. would have to be my personal line monitor/security person--to hold me back from jumping into the fray.

No matter what hpapens, if I've learned one thing so far on this trip, it's that part of the beauty of traveling is letting go, of being open to and experiencing a given moment for what it is, and learning something from it. The exact kind of thing that is easy to avoid being back home in our comfortable, sheltered environments. What will be ironic, I'm guessing, is that so much protest is happening around me (back home in California, mostly Latino students continue to walkout in protest of a horrid anti-immigrant bill being debated in Congress) but I will most likely not take part in it. It's where my life is at right now, as much as the young radical within me wants to be a part of the action.

What's Going On

Been getting ready for my first-ever trip to Europe. So exciting! Everything's booked--hotel, inter-city travel, etc.--and we're staying with friends of friends in Paris. I'm both distressed and intrigued by the recent Left Bank riots there, which occured, supposedly, because a breakaway faction of the student protest against new job laws (of which I'm still trying to learn) started setting cars on fire, breaking windows, fighting against the cops, etc. I gather that this set of rioting is quite separate from the banlieu (suburb)-based rioting by mostly children of North African immigrants in the areas north of Paris, but I'm not entirely sure. I definitely see a distinct whiteness in the pictures of the students protesting at the Sorbonne, as opposed to the darker-skinned young folks rising up in the banlieues. It's so interesting how different urban areas in different countries operate--in the U.S., the 'inner city' is associated with Black folks, crime, poverty, etc. In Paris it's the 'suburbs', the outlying areas of the city, that 'threaten' the fortress-like central metropolis.

Another interesting thing I've noted is the more common use of property destruction by leftists in these riots, as opposed to the 'peaceful' (and some might say complacent) protests here in the U.S. Not that I romanticize or encourage property destruction for political purposes, but I am baffled at how people in the US equate property destruction with violence against human beings. It says a lot about our political system and who controls it (corporations and other monied interests) that, here, smashing in a Neiman Marcus window is almost considered the moral equivalent of hitting an innocent bystander in the face.

So, to balance out both the mainstream media's sensationalist take on the riots with a more historical perspective, I've been reading a first-hand account of the Paris student rebellion of May 1968. I'd like to not be a stereotypical 'dumb American' when I travel to Paris so that I can have half-way intelligent conversations with the locals.

Went to the Octavia Butler tribute at Barnes & Noble (although I would've preferred to be at an independent bookstore for this kind of thing, but haven't heard of a similar event at Marcus Books, for example), which was nourishing to my soul. Chatted with Gloria Yamato and Russell Gonzaga, among others. Made some good connections with folks, and was glad to hear that others felt a similar kindred (pun intended) to the other folks in the room. The event organizers are encouraging people to rejoin periodically to read Octavia's work, to share our writing, etc. The room was nearly all people of color, mostly African-American folks, which was refreshing. When I attended Octavia's reading at Marcus Books a few months ago, the crowd's demographics were similar.

Taking a novel writing class, which has been good. And of course, work work work. Always work. Trying to finish up a bunch of stuff before I leave for Europe. But feeling pretty good about it. It's all going to be fine.

State of Emergency

I had an anxiety dream about this the other night, imagining that people I knew were going to be arrested randomly, for no reason. I'm glad that Priscilla has returned safely from the Philippines, but I am worried, nervous, stressed-out about the escalating drama that continues there.

Gura posts about it, as does Chatelaine. I've found some cool posts via Blogger, like this one, and feeling grateful for technology and independent media. I've been checking the The Philippine Daily Inquirer every few hours for the latest updates. It's a messy, violent, confusing situation out there. My homegirl M. is getting updates from the provinces that things are still calm, that in Manila is where the turmoil is. Right-wingers, leftist militants, poor folks, students, workers--it seems like everyone, anyone is the target for GMA's cold wrath.

And then I remember that I had planned to go to the Philippines for the first time ever this coming December, and I think, "Will I ever get to go?" But even if I haven't been there, I feel like a part of me is there, itching to march in the streets, daring the dictator to shut down the will of the people.

And it doesn't help that there won't be a new Octavia Butler book again, ever.

Moody blue,
Rona

Death of a Master

I am in shock. I just heard from a friend (and fellow fan) that Octavia Butler, one of my favorite writers, has just died. She fell outside her home and suffered a fatal concussion, possibly during a stroke.

This is too much. I am breathing, just trying to take it in, letting myself weep. I just saw her read a few months ago at Marcus Books in Oakland. She was promoting her new book, Fledgling, about a genetically engineered Black female vampire. It's her first book in seven years, her first book since the highly acclaimed and successful 'Parable' series.

I had only discovered her work a couple years ago, on the suggestion of many people who are much bigger sci-fi/fantasy fans than I am. I can't believe she's gone. She was only 58 years old.

For any rumor-hounds out there who think this may be a hoax (I thought it might be one, too, a cruel one) one of the writers from the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America called the King County coroner's office to confirm the unofficial report. It's true. One of the greatest science fiction writers of all time is gone.

If anyone who reads this has any news of a memorial for Octavia in the Bay Area, please post a comment and let me know. I'm sure I won't be alone in wanting to honor this amazing woman.

Rest in peace and power, ancestor Octavia. We will miss you dearly.

A Grim Report

News of the mudslide in Leyte, in the Philippines. I'm struck again at how natural disasters in the Third World are often so much more devastating than they are in the First because of poverty and lack of infrastructure. And how there is still a 'Third World Within' the First world, as witnessed during the Katrina catastrophe.

Warming Our Home and Other Post-Valentine's Day Thoughts

On Sunday, H. and I held our housewarming for our not-so-new apartment (some loyal readers will recall that we moved way back in July!). But before that, we had our friend L., who's a spiritual healer, come and cleanse and bless our home on Saturday, effectively chasing away any negative energies and bad spirits (well, except the noisy neighbors, although she was able to get the little kid downstairs to stop crying so much, miraculously). The apartment felt lighter and more 'ours' afterwards, and we spent most of Saturday cleaning, decorating, moving furniture (some of it new from the Ikea aisles) and setting up for the party. I was so excited I couldn't hardly sleep all night.

The housewarming was a brunch with a Valentine's day theme. I was thrilled that people took to it so readily--some guests showed up wearing pink and red (not a requirement by any means), several people brought us flowers, and most people went along (some more enthusiatically than others) with my wacky idea of writing valentines for each other. I got a whole bunch of those store-bought ones--Star Wars, Spongebob Squarepants, Hello Kitty, and the old-school Dr. Seuss Cat in the Hat (the most popular ones by far)--and people sat around writing valentines to each other after gorging themselves on homefries, turkey sausage, lumpia, zucchini frittata (I made all the hot food), homemade chocolate truffles (my Kumareng M.'s over-the-top contribution), rum cake (courtesy of Efren and Howard) and various other sweets and savories.

The last few years--starting when I found myself single in 2000 after a four-year relationship/engagement--I've been thinking of Valentine's Day as more of a time to celebrate friendship or non-'romantic' love versus the gushy, lovey-dovey, couple-y kind of love that it's known for. Not that I'm not a big fan of the latter--H. and I are both big fans of romance and are very affectionate with each other--but I just felt that we, as a society, don't spend enough time celebrating and honoring our friendships. And after having a few friends whom I thought would be there for me for the long haul ditch out of my life (all, ironically, because of some strange hangups/weirdness about relationships with men--mine or theirs), I found the need to ritualize my honoring of my real friends especially important. True friends are, I've found out the hard way, a rarity indeed. And on Sunday I realized that I am blessed with many of them.

Back to the party, which went fabulously well. Gura and Tatang Retong attended, as did about thirty other friends/well-wishers, including my godson, K., and his friend S., both about two years old, who entertained the crowd by dancing to Joe Bataan/s "Nuevo Jala Jala", one of my favorite songs. Funny, K.'s Filipino and S. is Black--I guess Joe's energy resonated for both of them.

When everyone left---our last guest stayed 'til almost 10:30pm, which made it a record 10-hour marathon party for me--H. and I sat in the afterglow of so much love being brought into our home and shared with us and everyone else, between friends who were glad to see each other, between strangers who wrote each other valentines anyway, and realized that we were home, our home. It finally felt right. The most precioius feeling in the world.

What Would the Buddha Do?

I think someone should start making buttons, bumper stickers, necklace pendants, T-shirts, etc. with this slogan. WWTBD for short. It's a lot more relevant and interesting than the 'What Would Jesus Do?' slogan.

I've been trying to reflect on the Buddha's teachings more often lately, reading some Thich Nhat Hanh before I go to bed, trying to do sitting meditation for at least a few minutes every few days. It helps. It really does. It keeps me from screaming at my neighbors, who virtually live in a cloud of pot-smoke that annoys me to no end. It keeps me from breaking down when I'm too tired to cry, laugh or be angry because I'm working so much and wish I could stop. It keeps me from falling apart. It keeps me sane, even happy at times.

I also went to a people of color sit/sangha that is happening every first Sunday of the month at the San Francisco Buddhist Center. Funny, how we have to make plans to sit and do nothing. And to breathe.

But it's what the Buddha would do, right?

Eight Quick Hits or I Love Lists

1. Work is kicking my ass. We have a big presentation with one of our main funders next week for renewal funding and a proposal deadline Friday (I like to be an overachieving, overprepared girl so the fact that I'm not already prepped or done with both of these things stresses me out. Trying to learn that not being an overachiever is okay. Breathing.) Also, on the conference front (yes, I'm working two jobs right now!), things are going well, but also hectic; got a zillion emails coming in and going out. But I think it's all under control. End of February is my big deadline---most of the heavy lifting for the conference program will be nearly done by then.

2. Reading Where a Nickel Costs a Dime by Willie Perdomo as part of my poetry-collection-a-month activity. Been peeking at Asha Bandele's Absence in the Palms of My Hands, which I've read before, but not in its entirety. Also half-way through Saul Williams ...Said the Shotgun to the Head. Still have Nin, Hemingway (pretty boring, if you asked me) and Chandler on my reading list. Feeling a big scattered reading-wise lately, but that's cool.

3. Feeling pretty much better now although my tinnitus is acting up now and then. It hasn't acted up like this in at least six months, so it's a bit strange.

4. Went to kali women's class last night for the first time--come to think of it, that was the first kali I'd done in about six months. Not feeling sore, although I expect to have a couple small bruises thanks to Tuhan's pressure points demonstrations.

5. Been listening a bit to the furor over the Alito nomination to the Supreme Court. Have to admit I'm a bit desensitized by these constant offensives by the Right. Got to pick my battles, although I'm sure I signed a petition or sent an email to Feinstein on this one, at least. This is a huge nomination, one that will affect interpretation of law, women's rights, how racial discrimination (or anything having to do with race) and sexual harassment cases are dealt with in this country. Frightening.

6. Related to 5: An interesting column by Mark Morford in the Chronicle connecting the Alito nomination to my current favorite flick, Brokeback Mountain. I like the Buddhist-influenced rhetoric near the end of the piece.

7. Taking a break from the novel to get some fresh perspective on it before I dive back in for serious revisions. Just signed up for novel writing class that starts in March. Need more structure and supports for the long stretch of rewrites ahead.

8. Last but definitely not least: the World Social Forum wrapped up in Venezuela, with President Hugo Chavez (my favorite politician of the moment, with Evo Morales a distant second (just 'cuz I don't know a lot about him) calling for the world to 'transcend capitalism'. Can you see why I love this guy?

Because It's Fun and...

...also becuase I'm trying to come down from a particularly energizing evening. Thanks to Efren for the idea.

Four jobs you've had in your life:
-Development Director of a social justice nonprofit
-Executive Director of a youth consortium
-Bead store salesperson
-Cutco knife salesperson

Four movies you could watch over and over:
-Lackawanna Blues
-Brokeback Mountain
-The Empire Strikes Back
-The Godfather, Parts I & II

Four places you've lived:
-Alameda, CA
-Oakland
-Berkeley
-San Francisco

Four TV shows you love to watch:
-America's Next Top Model (my favorite, although this last cycle was a BIG disapppointment at the end)
-The Sopranos
-Will & Grace
-Any Lidia Bastianich cooking show

Four places you've been on vacation:
-Hawaii
-Joshua Tree
-Camping in the redwood forests up north
-LA
(Wow, I haven't been on vacation much. Most of my travel has been work-related. Kinda sad.)

Four websites you visit daily:
-sfgate.com
-google
-my blog
-my email (I don't like reading stuff online!)

Four of your favorite foods:
-Fried chicken
-Well-made Italian pasta dishes
-Sheep's or goat's milk cheeses (with a nicely paired wine)
-Tomatoes in many variations (but not ketchup!)

Four places you'd rather be:
-Sunbathing with my honey on a beach in Hawaii or the Philippines
-Getting a mudbath with one of my girls in Calistoga
-Hiking with a good friend on Mount Tamalpais
-Writing my novel in a secluded retreat house

Four albums you can't live without:
-La India/Llego La India
-Stevie Wonder/Songs in the Key of Life
-Donny Hathaway/These Songs for You
-Los Van Van/Greatest Hits

Four magazines you read:
-Yoga Journal
-Marie Claire
-Harper's (sometimes)
-Poets & Writers

Three cars you've owned:
-only one: a 1983 Subaru GLF. And I don't think it was even in my name, but my parents'!

And It's Just the Beginning...

This is already 'old' news by Hollywood standards, but what can I say, I don't live for watching awards shows or 'Entertainment Tonight', ok?

Brokeback Mountain won Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay at the Golden Globes. I think I'm most happy about Ang Lee winning for Best Director. I feel a peculiar satisfaction knowing that an Asian man made that film.

The Oscars are just a couple months away. I can't wait!

Recovering: A Balancing Act

Trying to get better from my sudden flu, but trying to get some work done. Some good news, I finished the second draft of my sci-fi novel, which is very exciting! It's still far from done, but I'm one step closer to being finished. It feels great. I thought I wouldn't finish until the end of this month, but when I was working on it yesterday morning I realized that all the scenes I thought were unfinished had a beginning, middle and end--finished enough for now! Now I've got to really pull it together tight and work on polishing it to a shine.

Work is so crazy lately, I've started to think about late at night in bed and when I wake up first thing in the morning. Bleck. This is what it felt like when I was an Executive Director a couple years ago. At least now, I'm 'only' a Development Director, and of a much healthier, supportive organization. I think my meditation cushion and I need to spend some quality time together...

Wobbling but still standing--
Rona

Home/sick

Well, leave it to my high-fat and high-cholesterol diet of the last few days to put me where I've probably needed to be for the last few weeks: home/sick. I've been longing to have the time to just stay home, avoid the cold weather outside, and chill, and illness is always one way to do that.

I'm bummed though, that this means I won't see my good friend A. until Saturday, and that I won't be able to take my (nearly weekly) trip to H&M with H. and M. (really! those are my friends' initials!), but it's all good. I've been driving my body to its outer limits these last few weeks since New Year's Day, working intensely and at a hectic pace--although I did make my big grant deadline on Jan. 9th, which was pretty amazing, considering we only started working on that proposal less than a week before winter break.

Being home/sick, though, gives me a chance to catch up on a bit of blog-reading, novel-writing, and other bedridden activities. I'm reading parts of The Diary of Anais Nin (Vol. II), as well as Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises, both partially in preparation for my first-ever visit to Europe (including a stay in Paris, which I'm very excited about) that's coming up soon.

And, of course, there is rest. I will be a good girl and get some. Promise.

Small, small world: Another Buddhist Pin@y

Been meaning to post this for a while, but my previous post on Buddhism in the Philippines and a quick visit to Jean's Wild Radish blog finally prompted me. Funny, iSang also met someone I know from the community, Maiana Minahal, at a Deer Park retreat. I was supposed to be at that retreat, but changed my mind at the last minute. Hope to go next year if they do it again. It's Thich Nhat Hanh's Colors of Compassion retreat.

Buddhism in the Philippines

This is great. Wikipedia is great. Thanks Jean, via her new Wild Radish blog for the ref.

I've been studying Buddhism off and on, and trying to practice it off and on, for the past two-and-a-half years. It has brought me more peace, equanimity and joy than many, many (don't ask how many!) years of Roman Catholic church-going and endless prayers to saints, etc. have. Not that I diss the saints or even the Virgin Mary or Jesus. They are all on my altar or on the walls of my house (Mary Magdalen is one of my favorites, and if you've never read the gospel that is attributed to her--yes! a gospel attributed to a woman!--do pick it up). It's the church that is so often lacking in real spiritual depth, in accessibility and responsive to the people it is trying to serve, that always left me feeling dissatifisfied, a little lost, and very pessimistic about the possibility of happiness within this lifetime.

Buddhism has taught me that peace and happiness are within us, all the time, and that our minds and the conditions that we have created in our own lives and habits keep us from experiencing that innate happiness. I've discovered pure bliss just sitting in meditation for thirty minutes! How cool is that? Now, if only I could get to enlightenment....

So I'm glad that Jean found this info about Buddhism in the Philippines, a predominantly Roman Catholic and otherwise Christian nation. Gives me hope that when I finally do visit the homeland, I might be able to find some refuge in a sangha where everyone looks like me. Ah, now that would be nice.

Fun as a Necessity

I had a blast last night hamming it up on stage, running away like a cowardly superhero from Caroline/Point Blank's Kali stick (she does wield a mean stick and it'd been a while since I did an unchoreographed martial arts demo), reassuring Dennis/Allegorical about his poetic talent. The Chatelaine graced us with her presence and we all witness Rhett/Tatang's great acting debut as Blockhead, who wields a writer's-block inducing gun in a diabolical attempt to stop creativity from flowing. Thanks Michele/Gura/The Muse (fo' real!) for the opportunity to have some fun on stage.

When M. asked me to be in her short, 10-minute play for last night's SPT Poets Theater, I was a little hesitant. The first quarter of this year is just HECTIC for me--work at CFJ, work on this, my writing, and just trying to stay healthy and sane and balanced--and I was reluctant to take on another (albeit quite temporary) commitment. But I've been thinking about acting as another possible mode of creative expression for myself, and said 'yes'.

I knew this would be a low-pressure gig, barely any rehearsal and I wouldn't have to memorize my lines (although I did anyway, what can I say, I'm a perfectionist Capricorn), which would mean I could just have fun with it. And having good, clean fun, I've realized the hard way, is just as important as rest or a healthy diet or getting exercise. It made me feel damn good, alive in a way that my work and my writing (as much as I love them both and am driven to do them both well) just can't.

After the play, we all went to dinner at Eliza's for Rhett's and his brother's birthdays. Yummy, well-presented Hunan and Mandarin food, including ostrich with mango, sunflower seed chicken, thick, saucy chow mein, and the best peking duck I've had in years. I'm hoping that R. will post the pics we took of the food so I can relive the experience.

Good Clean Fun

What fun tech rehearsal was tonite for 'The Laureate', Michelle Bautista's (aka Gura's) short play that will be performed tomorrow night at this. Here's a quick preview pic. Come through if you can and see how fun defending poetic innovation can be.

(Just in case you can't tell, the 'masked', toygun-toting 'superhero' in the middle is me as 'The Laureate'.)

Pointing Out the Obvious

Is something I try to avoid doing, but it felt weird not to somehow acknowledge the fact that I'd changed my blog template. With all the rain and storming happening in these parts lately, I needed some light. Artificial or no, I'll take it.

And maybe something not-so-obvious: I've added an 'Upcoming and Recent Sightings' section to my sidebar with info about where to find my words or performances. This Friday, I have the pleasure of performing in Small Press Traffic's Poets Theater Jamboree with Rhett Pascual, fellow Kalista Caroline King, and poet Dennis Somera in Michelle Bautista's play, "The Laureate", appearing as the title character (as in 'poet laureate', get it?), which is ironic given my recent post about shying away from any appropriation of the term 'poet' to describe myself.

Is the universe trying to tell me something in offering me this role? Is there a reason why poetry has been appealing to me more lately, why I find myself drawn to verse (although I doubt I'd ever abandon prose)? Maybe. But I'm just gonna have fun with the role and try to put on a good crowd-pleasing show.

Productive Procrastination

I'm sitting in a cafe, letting myself be distracted by free wifi and my blog when I should be working on my novel. I'll get back to it in a minute, but thought I'd satisfy my blog-itch by posting my honey's soon-to-be-finished portfolio site, Frequency Shift. I know I'm biased, but his work has garnered much positive attention and feedback from others who are less so. Check it. And feel free throw some work his way if you've got some, although I think he's booked up for the month of January.

Now back to the wilds of the (fictional) Brune pass...
Rona

Best Review of 'Brokeback' I've Read

Since I'm too busy to post my own stellar review, here's Jim Emerson's, via Roger Ebert's site.

I totally agree with Emerson's critique of 'provincial' big-city 'sophisticates' who are accusing the film of being 'closeted.' It is so clear if you watch this film that Ang Lee was not out to make a political statement. But by not focusing on the political statement, he made such a political powerful film about gayness and homophobia and our society's violent repression of gay love that even the right wing doesn't know what to do with it. The Catholic Church even initially gave 'Brokeback' only its 2nd-highest 'offensive' rating, only to be forced to switch to the highest offensive rating after zealouts complained.

This film is political art of the highest degree by virtue of the fact that it wasn't trying to be political. This is the tension I struggle with in my own writing and living. How to balance the need for real change in our world, policy change, political change, with the need for real stories, honesty, beauty, art?

So Much for New Year Blog Theme

Sorry, folks, for making a big to-do about a new blog theme and then posting nothing for days. Work's taken over my life these days. Big deadline on Monday, then three more in rapid succession to follow right after that. Through it all, trying to 'touch' my novel everyday, hoping to have the next draft finished by the end of the month. (!) Very exciting. But then will have a lot of work on my hands, combing through the big, messy, tangled threads of the thing, this massive literary undertaking that I've claimed as my writerly work for the next year at the very least.

Poetry's been coming to, through, me lately too, which is always strange. Even when most of what I was writing was poetry--back in my college and immediate-post-college days--I never really considered myself a poet. That word seemed to be reserved for people far more driven by the word than I, and far more self-centered. Sorry to all the poets out there, but gotta keep it real! I'm probably just jealous, right? There may be some truth to that. I'll keep it real, like dat, yo.

So maybe sometime after next Monday I'll find some time and energy to write about Brokeback Mountain, which has been in my mind on a daily since I saw it a couple weeks ago. Also read the short story--bought the paperback, but the hardcover copy costs $14.95! for a frickin' short story! I liked the movie better, more detail and emotion. The story seemed to skate over some of the more charged scenes and subplots as if afraid to delve too deeply. It would have been interesting to read this story as a novel. I think it could have taken over that large of a literary space.

Okay, enough rambling for now. I'm going to treat myself to a quiet evening of reading. Just started reading Hemingway for the first time--can you believe it? Recently finished Dream Jungle by Jessica Hagedorn as well as Voodoo Dreams by Jewell Parker Rhodes. (Yes, dreams are a theme in my novel). I've been making my list of books to read in 2006, and of course there are too many and I don't think I'll be able to finish it, but who cares? I've also committed to reading one poetry collection a month, which will be a first for me.

Also saw Walk the Line last night. It was decent. Hopefully I'll blog more about it later, especially in comparison to Ray.

Wish me luck meeting all my deadlines--
Rona

New Year, New Blog Theme

Or just a theme, since I never really had one before, for my blog. Been feeling the need to give my blog more focus, so that it's not so random (although I do like the randomness of it sometimes, I wonder if you, dear reader, do?). Looking back on the past year and a half or so of my blog, I think some of my best entries intertwined my reflection on two of my favorite topics: art and politics. So that's what my blog will focus on from now on (at least until I get bored): art & politics, the intersections thereof, and what we can learn from particularly stellar examples of political art or artistic politics (hm, that doesn't quite sound right, does it? Politics can be creative, though, I swear!). And while I maintain that art and politics have very distinct functions in our lives and our world and don't believe in social realist propaganda as 'art', I also think that art can have a political function whether its creator(s) intend it to or not, and that function can range from sparking interesting cafe conversations between strangers to launching whole new social movements that transform society on many levels (can anyone say hip hop?).

My first example is THE BEST MOVIE of the year. I'm going to blog about this more later, but if you haven't gone already, you NEED to go see Brokeback Mountain, the so-called 'gay cowboy' movie directed by Ang Lee and starring Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhall. It's a gorgeous, haunting, sensual film, folks, so bring some hankies and a non-homophobic person to accompany you.

Happy new year!

Folks to Remember During the Holidays

I'm always struck by the number of homeless people I see having to live on the streets in the winter because our cities don't have enough beds for them to sleep in in shelters and such. It's bad enough that in a society as affluent as ours that people don't have shelter at other times of the year, but during winter homelessness is especially tragic. Every year, San Francisco does a grisly count of the number of deaths of homeless people in the city, which often is more than 150. To put names and faces to this story, check out this article about 'sacred sleep' at St. Boniface Church in the Tenderloin in SF.

This has been an especially cold winter, so please don't forget to give gifts--dollar bills or spare change, your leftover food (leave it on a garbage can and people will eat it), clothing, food and monetary donations, or even a gift of your time volunteering at a soup kitchen or homeless shelter--to the people who need them the most this holiday season. Here are a few places where you can give:

-The Coalition on Homelessness, a tireless voice for the homeless and publisher of the groundbreaking 'Street Sheet' newspaper which is sold by homeless vendors.

-The East Oakland Community Project helps homeless people and families "transition to wellbeing."

-Central City Hospitality House, an advocacy and social service agency working with homeless people in San Francisco's Tenderloin district.

-City of Oakland Hunger Program which distributes food to low-income Oakland residents.

So as you scurry about town trying to finish up your holiday shopping, don't forget to just acknowledge the homeless people you pass in the street, even if you can't give them any money. They are human beings just like the rest of us, and deserve our respect. That's the least we can do during this season of giving.

Blessings,
Rona

The Season of Lights (and Holiday Parties)

Or not. I love this time of year--holiday parties almost every night, which means free food and booze, sometimes music, and good schmoozing to be had by all. But a nasty cold early last week put me out of the running for many of the cool holiday parties that were buzzing around town. Sniff. But I'm still determined to have my fair share of holiday party fun, especially since December and January are officially the Months of the Year When Most of My Friends and Family Members Celebrate Their Birthdays (including me!). No less than a dozen (and I'm probably forgetting a few) folks in my world will be ringing in their next year on earth in the recent and upcoming weeks.

Last night, holiday celebration took the form of gastronomic nirvana as part of our joint birthday celebration(s). H. and I had the pleasure of being accompanied by N. and Vkdir to Paul K, a fantastic Hayes Valley restaurant on Gough that is now one of my new favorites. Fusion Mediterranean, I guess you could call it: subtle but memorable flavors of sumac (a Persian spice, I believe), pomegranate, chili harissa and medjool dates infused our dishes. They served thin circles of pita bread with baba ghannoush and hummus for the table. I was feeling like I needed some comfort food, so I got the grilled prime ribeye with chili harissa, which was scrumptious. We all sipped pinot noir, which was a little spicy and quite bright, a nice complement to each of our entrees. And to top it off, the prices aren't bad.

Then we went over to Sweet Inspiration in the Castro for dessert. I had my favorite, the coconut cake, which is super-decadent (especially since I'd already eaten a big slab of beef for dinner), but hey, you only celebrate birthdays once a year. (Well, for one month per year, at least--I figure having birthdays so close to Christmas and New Year's gives me and H. the right to party for as long as possible).

We had also gone to the McKay Foundation & FACT holiday party a couple weeks ago, which is always fun, partially because it's the only place I get to hear and dance to Surco Nuevo, one of my favorite salsa bands. They don't play much in the big salsa nightclubs in the Bay Area, because those gigs don't actually pay much, so once a year I get to groove to their music after sipping the best wine and food to be had at a holiday party. Not sure who caters that event, but they rock, lemme tell ya.

Tonite there's another little holiday party to attend, this time for the Agape Foundation, whose web site H. designed. They're a cool, progressive foundation, and Karen, their Executive Director, is a great person who I'm sure will throw a good shindig.

So even though I'm getting a little bit of a late start on the holiday-party circuit, I'm making up for lost time. I gots to--it's my obligation as a winter-baby Capricorn. I hope your winter's turning out as bright and full of festivity too.

Peace,
Rona

Rest in Peace and Power: Richard Pryor and Stanley 'Tookie' Williams

I know these are late but still wanted to post them. I've felt the aura of death around me often lately. And although their deaths make me sad, I'm not discouraged, and I know that these men's spirits will give us strength from the afterlife.

Richard's obituary.

About Tookie. His memorial service will be held in Los Angeles, Cali on Dec. 20th. Details are on the web site.

Peace,
Rona

The Final Hour

It's not too late to save a man's life--namely, Stanley 'Tookie' Williams, co-founder of the Crips, ex-gang-member turned children's book author and gang-truce advocate. I dread the dismay and disappointment and anger that folks in the 'hood who look up to Tookie as an inspiration to stay out tha game will feel if the State executes him tonite. You can go out to San Quentin and show your soildarity, but even better would be to fax, email or call the Governor's office to urge him to grant clemency to this reformed man, so that he can continue his work to bring peace to the war-torn streets right here in Ghettoland, U.S.A.

Rest in Peace: Licerio 'Jun' Sendaydiego, Jr.

Yesterday my family buried my Tito Jun, who passed away earlier this week after a long struggle against cancer. His humor, kindness, smooth singing voice and smile will be missed by me and many others.

I hadn't seen my Tito Jun healthy in a long time, but I'll always have memories of him as a happy-go-lucky, kindhearted gentleman, the kind of man I like to think of as quintessentially Filipino. He loved to sing love songs and be sweet to his wife, but he loved to smoke and drink whiskey, too. He was loved by his children and extended family; I can't ever remember not liking him or not being glad to see him and my Tita Glo, his wife.

I find real comfort in funerals, viewings, wakes, rosaries--all the components that make up the Filipino grieving process. The viewing was especially emotional for me, because I got to see Titos and Titas and cousins that I hadn't seen in years (or ever), some since I was a little girl. I was happily surprised that they all remembered me, although it took a couple of them a few minutes to place who I was. "Tita Puring's daughter," they would tell each other, and then their faces would light up with recognition. It makes so much sense that, after my anti-family Thanksgiving and my recent ill feelings towards my family, my Tito Jun's funeral was the place where I found some healing. He was the kind of man who could bring people together. Even my mom wasn't mad at me anymore, either for missing Thanksgiving--how can you be mad at people at the funeral of someone you both love?

As I sat in the church during the funeral mass, I noticed that the crucifix was not the standard cross shape that most Catholic crucifixes come in, but a figure of Christ hung from a single arc of branch, his wrists tied to it grotesquely. As I sat there listening to the priest and contemplating the figure, I thought about my recent studies of Buddhism and Buddhist meditation, how many (mis)interpret the Buddha's teaching about suffering to mean, "All life is suffering," when I and many others do not believe that was the intention behind his words. I think his meaning was that, "Suffering is unavoidable" but that we canliberate ourselves from it by following the Middle Way. I found it ironic and a little sad to remember how Christians (or at least Catholics in particular) focus so much on the crucifixion and suffering of Christ, instead of on his own 'enlightment' or awakening (Christians call it resurrection) on the third day after his death.

One of the most touching moments at the viewing for me was when a short, Chinese-looking man, after staring intently at me for several minutes as I hugged some of my cousins, came up to me in the pew as I sat with H. He approached me with a quizzical look on his face, as if he vaguely recognized me but couldn't remember my name. I rose and said who I was, and his face lit up as he opened his arms wide to embrace me.

"I'm Roy," he said; he was Tito Jun's eldest son, whom I'd heard about but never met before, since he had been in the Philippines when I was a child, when Tito Jun immigrated here with his four youngest children. I embraced him back, feeling the old warmth of family washing over me, the beautiful feeling of knowing that somewhere, by someone, I am recognized and loved.

My friend M. just returned from a month-long trip to the Philippines--her first--and told me of how family she'd never met before embraced her so warmly there. She's encouraging me to take my own first-ever trip; it's something I've always wanted to do but am only feeling more reassured about now, after yesterday's experience.

It's good to know that, on some level, there is family out there, in the world, waiting to embrace you.

Blessings,
Rona

Meditation Practice Pays Off: I Am Yoda

Just received the meditation cushions I bought as my birthday gift to myself yesterday, and had my first sit on them last night. I'll also be heading to the people of color sit at the San Francisco Buddhist Center tomorrow.

Yoda and Buddha have a lot in common I think, besides, their names rhyme. And further, I've always maintained that Yoda is Filipino..."Judge me by my size, do you?" So this is especially gratifying.

Thanks again to Gura, or should I say Galadriel the Queen, for the link.

Peace,
Rona

A Bit Cheesy, But I'll Take It

You are Form 1, Goddess: The Creator.

"And The Goddess planted the acorn of life.
She cried a single tear and shed a single drop
of blood upon the earth where she buried it.
From her blood and tear, the acorn grew into
the world."

Some examples of the Goddess Form are Gaia (Greek),
Jehova (Christian), and Brahma (Indian).
The Goddess is associated with the concept of
creation, the number 1, and the element of
earth.
Her sign is the dawn sun.

As a member of Form 1, you are a charismatic
individual and people are drawn to you.
Although sometimes you may seem emotionally
distant, you are deeply in tune with other
people's feelings and have tremendous empathy.
Sometimes you have a tendency to neglect your
own self. Goddesses are the best friends to
have because they're always willing to help.


Which Mythological Form Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

Thanks to Gura for the link.

My Anti-Family Thanksgiving

Well, not so much anti-Family with a capital 'F', but anti-MY family with a small 'f'. I don't normally air my dirty family laundry on my blog, but on this holiday I want to put my stuff out there because I know there are others out there who feel the same, whether they choose to boycott their family gatherings (as I have) or not. And I think it's important to validate what for many of us is a healthy, sane perspective: that being around our natural-born families around the holidays (especially around the holidays) can be downright depressing, dysfunctional and ill-advised.

H. and I have decided--for the first time ever, for me--to spend this Thanksgiving holiday alone, without either of our families. It's been a tough year for both of us in different ways, and lately my family is just triggering me in all kinds of ways that are just bad for my health. And it's not just triggering--I've done a lot of work on myself to keep my family from being able to trigger me, which has brought up a whole other set of questions and issues for me, such as: why do I choose to spend time with people who do not value me, who don't know me, and don't care to get to know me? If these folks weren't my family I wouldn't give them the time of day. And although in other times I can see the reasons for sticking around family anyway, this year I just can't see it, or stomach it. And who wants to spend this eating/glutton holiday around people that sometimes make your stomach turn?

I know that sounds harsh, and if you, dear reader, are someone I am fortunate enough to know personally, you may one day hear the whole sordid story behind why I have such disdain and low tolerance for my family. Suffice it to say here that I and my partner have made a healthy and exciting choice to steer clear of family dysfunction this year, to take care of ourselves, and to spend a nice, quiet holiday with each other.

Oh, and we are going to eat, although it won't be a turkey dinner. We're spending our Thanksgiving dinner at the famous and kitschy-opulent Empress of China restaurant in the City. Gourmet Chinese food overlook Chinatown and North Beach evening lights. Ah, I feel more relaxed just thinking about it. Sure beats watching football games I don't care about with people who don't know anything about who I am or what I do. And although at first the idea of eating OUT for Thanksgiving seemed anathema to me, I'm actually excited about it now. We're going to dress up and have a grand time.

Whatever you are doing on this hoilday of family and gratitude, I hope that you are happy and safe and healthy.

Be well,
Rona

Writing Dreams

Been having lots of intense, vivid dreams lately--both pleasing and not so pleasing, which has led me to decide that the protagonist of my sci-fi novel is going to be a lucid, prophetic dreamer--she dreams of things that are going to happen, is able to interact with the future, etc. This will take place in a world very far from our own where dreams are not as common as they are here, where the human ability to dream will be rare and therefore cherished. Still working out all the details of this, but I think it'll come together nicely.

I realized that--aside from writing down my own dreams now and then (I actually did used to keep a dream journal next to my bed a few years ago and recorded almost all of my dreams there every morning), I've never written a fictionalized dream sequence. Sure, I've watched plenty of them in movies (most of them bad), but I haven't read many of them in books. So I decided to buy Chitra Divakaruni's newest book, Queen of Dreams as a starting place for this search for well-written dream sequences.

In other reading news, I'm still working on finishing another of Chitra's books (they're quite addictive), 'Vine of Desire', a sequel to Sister of My Heart, which was a real page-turner. I've put Delaney's Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand on hold for now, because I made the mistake of picking up Octavia Butler's Wild Seed' when I saw her read a couple weeks ago and I haven't been able to put it down since. I know now why everyone in the room applauded when she mentioned the book at the reading.

And I've enjoying reading, intermittently, when I need some soul-stirring poetry, I pick up In the Country of My Dreams' by Elmaz Abinader.

If anyone has any suggestions for books with good dream sequences in them, please do share. And maybe the fact that there's a full moon out tonite will give me some lunar inspiration.

Blessings,
R.

Making / Finding Sangha

Been feeling kinda lonely for a while--kinda existentially lonely, kinda lonely because I just don't like hanging out with as many people as I used to, because life gets complex and people often don't live up to your expectations of them (while still expecting you to live up to their expectations, and there's often little room for compromise or communication, which is sad.

So I'm happy to report that this weekend I got a good dose of healthy, soul-sustaining sangha, a Pali word that Buddhists use to describe 'community'. As far as I've seen, the word is used very loosely, which is cool: sangha can be used to refer to a small group of people coming together to meditate regularly, or it can go the opposite extreme and be used to talk about everyone who follows a certain Buddhist tradition, as in the whole spiritual community of Thich Nhat Hanh's United Buddhist Church. I like that the term can be used to describe community in all its different forms, from the intimate to the universal. This word usage of the term sangha reflects why I am drawn to Buddhism, which is all about relativity and the interconnectedness of things, of how small patterns in our lives mirror the larger forces that flow around and through us.

Yesterday, I went to a daylong people of color retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center. Angel Kyodo Williams and Charlie Johnson led the retreat, which was diverse in a way that can only happen in the Bay Area. Call me crazy but I do my own informal censuses (censii?) at events like this, and it seemed to be about 1/3 African-American, 1/3 Asian-American, and the rest Latino, Middle Eastern and Native American. It was rejuvenating and healing to have a whole day during which to meditate; we did sitting, walking and eating meditation, as well as a little yoga and qigong for some movement meditation.

But the best thing about the retreat yesterday was the sense of community I felt both during and afterwards. There were so many little connections, so many 'small world' a-ha's that I felt like I had finally stumbled, after months if not years of searching, a loose but very real spiritual community upon which I could rely for sustenance and support. It helped that my friend J. decided at the last minute to come with me, so we got to sit together and chat here and there when we weren't supposed to be observing 'noble silence' about how we were liking the retreat. He really enjoyed it and so I hope I get to sit with him again sometime soon. I also met V., who was friends with J., and knew another friend of mine and my boyfriend's (H. went to high school with her).

After the retreat, one of the other participants, Z., whom I had met at a different people of color sangha at the San Francisco Buddhist Center, was headed to the same art exhibit/ web site launch party that I was--it was for Sylvia La, an amazingly fresh and talented painter, and I'm not just saying that because my partner designed her web site (really)! I enjoy her work immensely and wish I had the dough to buy her 'Cousins' Picnic' painting, with its surprising use of color (blue kids' faces! But it works!). I got to hang out with Z. and a few other friends in the Mission beforehand, which was a lot of fun.

At the launch party, I also found out that Sylvia's another meditator, and I ran into another J., whom I've met at more than a couple SF Buddhist Center POC sanghas. She told me she was also involved in an Asian-American political group that I've supported in the past. This was starting to get ridiculous! But I was enjoying seeing the connections between my creative, political and spiritual worlds, which made me understand that they're not that different after all. And usually this might make me feel a little claustrophobic, as if my world was so insular that the same people from all my different networks all go to the same events, retreats, etc. But it didn't. Quite the opposite. These interweavings of relationships and acquaintances and friends made me feel quite expansive and blessed. I'm sure it had something to do with being at a meditation retreat all day, but isn't that the point of meditation? To help us appreciate what we have and realize that things aren't as bad as we make them to be?

And today, I had another big dose of sangha in the form of a Voices of Our Nations (VONA) "writing camp", hosted by the generous and charming Elmaz Abinader, where about 30 writers of color got together to just write, together, for a full day. The sound of laptop keys clicking and notebook pages flipping was music to my ears today, and helped me write twenty-four (24), yup, twenty-four pages for my sci-fi novel. And I ran into so many folks from so many parts of my life---political, literary, academic, spiritual---that I'm not even going to list them here. It was so healing to be in a room of productive, supportive writers of color, quietly helping each other be the writers we were meant to be.

Suffice it to say that this weekend was all about making and finding sangha, and realizing that it's been all around me this entire time, waiting for me to rediscover it.

Peace,
Rona

Whuppin' Ass is Tiring Work

I am SO HAPPY that we--and by 'we' I mean the nurses, teacher, firefighters, abortion providers, doctors, health clinic workers, progressive activists and of course the YOUTH that worked the phones and precincts to defeat Prop 73 and Arnold's initiatives--WON!! It isn't often that progressives can celebrate real victories like this (yes, even in California, where we have been blasted by racist and xenophobic ballot initiatives for the past 10-plus years). And although our margin of victory was slim (just a few points in many cases), we did an AMAZING job pulling together and turning out the winning vote despite the tens of milions of dollars that Arnold and his cronies spent trying to fool Californians into buying into some wrongheaded 'reform agenda'.

I have to say I was too exhausted last night after an almost fourteen-hour day election day to watch the results trickle in, but I was ecstatic when I saw the Oakland Tribune headline on the way to the bus stop: "Arnold's Reforms Terminated". Take that, Arnie!

Californians for Justice, where I have the privilege to work, and some of our ally orgs turned out literally hundreds of youth to talk to voters, make phone calls, and get out the vote this past weekend. Here are some pics of one of our recent precinct walks in Oakland. One young CFJ leader even convinced a jaded voter not to turn away from the polls this November. "I'm sick of these elections," the woman complained. "They voted in Bush; I'm not going to vote." To which our youth leader replied, "Well, you can make a difference in an initiative vote, and if you're not going to vote for you, then do it for me, because I can't vote and these issues are still going to affect me." What can even the toughest cynic say to that?

This election gives me real hope that people of color, immigrants, young people and other marginalized folks in California can win real progressive change. We've still got a lot of work to do, though, as evidenced by this map, which shows how different counties voted on Proposition 73, which would have required parental notification for young girls seeking an abortion as well as change the legal definition of abortion to 'the killing of an unborn child'. This isn't going to be the last time the right tries to challenge a woman's right to choose, however, so we need to stay vigilant.

But in the meantime, we need to revel in this victory. Pat yourselves on the back, folks!

Peace,
Rona

Live in Cali? Don't Forget to Vote

1. Find your polling place here.
2. Vote NO on Props 73 (the EVIL abortion notification initiative that also changes the California constitution to allow invasion of teens' privacy AND changes the legal definition of abortion to be 'killing of an unborn child'), 74, 75, 76, 77, 78
3. Vote YES on Props 79 and 80.
4. Pat yourself on the back for helping to whup Arnold's ass at the polls.

I'll be out from very early in the morning 'til late tomorrow night getting out the vote and celebrating a big victory over Arnold!

In Peace and Justice,
Rona

Master At Work

I went to see Octavia Butler, the bestsetlling Black science fiction author, 'read' at Marcus Bookstore in Oakland on Friday night. What a treat. She's promoting her new book--her first novel since Parable of the Talents was released several years ago--which is entitled "Fledgling", and is about a Black vampire.

I write 'read' in quotes because she didn't actually read from her work, but instead talked for about fifteen minutes about her writing process for the novel, which initiated from a severe case of writer's block. It's always refreshing to hear accomplished, even famous professional writers talk about their struggles with their craft. It makes me realize they are human, too, and that they struggle with the same issues of discipline, practice, craft, etc. that I and my other aspiring writer-comrades struggle with.

It was a very inspiring place to be, because I ran into tons of folks from my activist/organizing world. I hung out with E. there, a fellow VONA alum, who told me about the event in the first place. And I saw Patty and Jinky, whom I've met before once or twice, as well as Daisy Hernandez, who edits Colorlines magazine. There are so many activists who read Octavia Butler, who draw strength and validation from her work. She 'predicted' a catastrophic flood in New Orleans in one of her books--although she herself decried it as a 'prediction' at the reading: "Anyone who was paying attention could have 'predicted' that" she observed--and in the 'Parable' series she gave us an apocalyptic vision of California in the mid-21st century, complete with global warming-induced migration north to escape the sweltering heat of Southern California, roaming gangs of slaving thugs forcing orphaned girls into prostitution, and a hopeful dreamer-protagonist who leads a band of ordinary people to form a new community and religion called Earthseed.

I bought Wild Seed, Kindred and Fledgling at the reading, and got them signed by the Woman herself. It's only at author readings that I get googly-eyed and celebrity/star-struck--what a nerd! Kanye West is the only other celebrity who might've been able to grab my attention on Friday night once Ms. Butler got on the mic.

Go out and get yo'self from Octavia Butler. It's good, toothsome stuff.

My New Pet

I can't have a pet in my apartment because of the landlord's rules (pah!) but I can have a pet on my blog. Actually, I probably do have a pet spider or two in my apartment. They seem to follow me around. At my last apartment building in SF there was a spider that lived in a beautiful web on our front door frame for at least a month. She was still there when we left, come to think of it.






Thanks to Efren for the link.

Day of the Dead

I love Halloween and Day of the Dead. It wasn't a holiday I recall celebrating when I was growing up, although I've heard that a lot of Filipinos do celebrate it--probably by calling it 'All Souls Day' more likely than not. But I'm glad that--mostly through my friendships with Latinos and other conscious people of color--I've begun to incorporate the celebration of this holiday into my life. Among those I want to remember and honor this day...

My Mama Hely--if she had been born a man and white, the woman would've been a gourmet, 5-star restaurant chef, hands-down. The best flan-maker in the universe. A couple years after her death in 2000, I attended a Filipino party where they served a flan that brought tears to my eyes; it was the first I had tasted since Mama passed away that was even close to being as good as hers. She was my spiritual mother in many ways who raised me as her own from the time I was 2 months old when my Mom was off at work, workin' hard as so many single moms must do. I still miss you, Mama. Every day.

Khalil Abdus-Samad--funny, warm, generous, righteous. Khalil was an organizer with POWER in San Francisco, a radical organization of low-wage workers. My most vivid memory of Khalil was on a CFJ retreat, which he attended as a rep from POWER. We got to chop it up a bit, just hang out, which activists don't get to do enough because we're often too damned busy. I remember telling him that his walking stick--a yellow-beige bamboo pole--was nice, which prompted him to look at it thoughtfully, and then hand it to me. "Take it, it's yours," he said.

Rosa Parks, the Civil Rights Movement icon who sparked the Montgomery Bus Boycott. I've helped tell the 'real' story of Rosa Parks countless times in organizing trainings, reminding people that Ms. Parks was not a random, lone protester that was just too tired to get up after a long day of work, but that she was involved in her local NAACP and acted as part of a larger organized effort to desegregate the Montgomery bus system. Rest in Power, Rosa.

Yesterday, H. and I went to the Fruitvale Dia de los Muertos festival, saw the beautiful and varied altars there, including one from Grupo Maya, a Guatemalan solidarity group, and another that showed off on a circular, tiered concrete display, dozens of painted skulls that represented famous ancestors, such as Che Guevara and others. Daniel Sanchez and his Nopal Apparel T-shirts were there, representin' with beautiful new designs on posters and T-shirts of classic Sade and Marvin Gaye images. I'm glad I ran into D. and Nopal at the festival because now I know where I can stock up on Christmas/Winter Solstice gifts!

This is one of my favorite poems in honor of the dead. Thanks to Luisa Teish for the inspiration and connection:

Those who are dead are never gone;
they are there in the thickening shadow.
The dead are not under the earth:
they are in the tree that rustles,
they are in the wood that groans,
they are in the water that sleeps,
they are in the hut, they are in the crowd,
the dead are not dead.

Those who are dead are never gone,
they are in the breast of the woman,
they are in the child who is wailing
and in the firebrand that flames.
The dead are not under the earth:
they are in the fire that is dying,
they are in the grasses that weep,
they are in the whimpering rocks,
they are int he forest, they are in the house,
the dead are not dead.

--Birago Diop

Two Thousand

So, the mark's been reached: 2,000 U.S. military deaths in Iraq.

On the one hand, this is a terrible sign of the utter failure of this 'War on Terror' to do anything but produce more death and destruction for not only 'Americans' but for all the other peoples that have lost sons and daughters in this war. It makes me extremely sad to know that my government is wreaking so much havoc, wasting so many lives and precious resources, for the sake of profit and imperialism (also known as 'democracy' by some).

On the other hand, I find hope in the literally dozens of small to large events/protests/candlelight vigils that are being organized in response to these 2,000 deaths. These events aren't just happening in the usual places like San Francisco or Berkeley, but also in small towns and cities like Laguna Hills and Palm Springs and San Diego--not the kind of places where you find large progressive organizations, but where people are obviously feeling the effects of this war and wanting to build a world that's more peaceful.

And no matter how jaded and cynical I get as a now-semi-veteran activist, these small flickers of light in the darkness make me realize that all is not lost.

Keepin' Hope Alive,
Rona

Generic Jedi, Boba or Janga Fett, or a Sith?

I'm searching for the perfect Halloween costume and bemoaning my lack of sewing skills (and machine, although my kumare/comadre has one that she's always said I can borrow). Found some cheap Jedi robes, but they're all made of polyester. Polyester! Can you imagine Qui-Gon Ginn or Obi-Wan Kenobi wearing polyester? I think not.

The one character I know I'm not interested in being is Queen Amidala/Padme. Too elaborate, too girly. And I ain't pale enough neither.

But I did find some surprisingly cool-looking Darth Maul costume, which made me wonder whether I could be seduced to the Dark Side? Hmmmm....

Too bad Gura didn't nab a bunch of extra Jedi robes and light sabers during her time as a Jedi. Sniff.

Wish me luck,
Rona

Not So Serious, After All

People are often surprised--and sometimes I am too--that my favorite TV show (not counting the Sopranos which I can only watch on DVD after the season's over) is Tyra Banks' runaway hit America's Next Top Model on UPN.

I've never been much of a fashionista, but in recent years--thanks in large part to H.'s 'high street'-fab fashionista ways--I've spent much more time figuring out what my personal style is, what colors I look good in, shopping for makeup, etc. Now, don't get me wrong, I still leave the house most days with nothing on my face but my Rachel Perry lip gloss and some moisturizer (I thank my Moms for my good skin), but there ain't nothing wrong with a girl rockin' some peace lip gloss, mauve blush, black mascara, or even violet-hued eyeliner (which I wore at Rhett and Michelle's wedding. (I was shocked at how so little color could make my eyes pop so much).

I think it's telling that most of the referrals I get from Google are for people looking for pictures of Eva the Diva, the winner of Cycle 3. I also get the random searches for 'Toccara Jones naked"--Toccara was the gorgeous plus-size model that got eliminated half-way through the same season that Eva won the grand prize.

So if ya ever see me on the street with a less-than-smile on my face, lookin' dour, or if you ever think my political/social/cultural rants on this blog are a bit too serious, just remember that on 8pm every Wednesday, I join the masses and fixate for an hour on wanna-be supermodels taking photo challenges and walking down runways.

Because you can't be serious all the time.

Peace,
Rona

Remembrances

Today I remember Helen Toribio (perdon for the formatting, but it surmises well what Helen brought to all of us), who passed through the veil last year today. I echo Gura's wise words about remembering, respecting and letting go.

I also remember that death is only one part of the cycle of life, and what better time to remember this than Fall? And as I picked out my pumpkins at the Pumpkin Festival in Half Moon Bay today, I was reminded of how much I love fall--love to watch leaves turn color, to feel the air turn crisp and cool, to take out my winter coats, to clothe myself in autumn's hues, crimson, orange, brown. Funny, since I'm also someone who has experienced loss in a profound way in my life, not just through the physical death of people I care about, but through the loss of old friends whom I have outgrown, or who have outgrown me.

And although I don't regret letting those people go--because surely, no friendship is worth one's own dignity, creativity or mental health--even the death of the most unhealthy of relationships is a loss. And loss must be mourned. I am reminded today, for some reason, that perhaps I haven't mourned those losses enough, and that I still have to be gentle with myself as I try to move through and beyond that loss.

But I'll be looking forward to spring next year (and my much-anticipated, first-ever trip to Europe!), because the season for death and mourning does pass, as always.

Peace,
Rona

Double (Wedding) Happiness

This year was a big wedding year for me and H. Earlier this fall, our two good friends A. and N. held their commitment ceremony on the shores of the Pacific Ocean at the Marin Headlands Institute. And yesterday, Gura M. and Tatang Retong, and my co-worker D. and his woman V., tied the knot. No, it wasn't a double wedding, but both events happened on the same day, which made my Saturday a busy one.

First, went to Gura and Tatang's ceremony at St. Joseph's Basilica in Alameda. I grew up going to this church; I was baptized there and received my first communion and confession there. My sister also went to the adjoining high school (also the bride's alma mater), so there were lots of flashbacks and deja vus for me. It was a lovely, fairly traditional Catholic wedding, but Father Rich made it more interesting by doing a kind of interactive, almost talk-show like homily (sermon), while the traditional malongs worn by the sponsors andMaster Kalanduyan and his Panabuniyan Ensemble's kulintang performance gave the ceremony a more tribal-regal air.

After that ceremony we dashed over to the Oakland Museum for D. and V.'s wedding. We missed the actual wedding ceremony (I'd told them about this ahead of time), but arrived in time to see the happy couple posing for post-ceremony photos. V.'s dress was gorgeous, a slim, cream-colored silken slip of a dress, and D. looked dashing in his updated tux. The Museum's a surprisingly beautiful place to have an outdoor wedding; on the far side of the building there is an enclosed terrace and grassy courtyard. The only drawbacks were the infrequent siren or helicopter sounds floating over the otherwise bucolic setting; this is still Oakland, after all!

After eating and chilling for a little bit at the Museum wedding, H. and I dashed off again to pick up my Mom, who wanted to go with us to Gura and Tatang's reception, which was at a nice hotel out in San Ramon. We got to hang out with my kumare and kumpare, my ina-anak and his brother, and a bunch of other folks at the party--including fellow blogistas Jean Vengua and Eileen Tabios. And of course, this being a Filipino wedding and all, we got to cha-cha to our heart's content (H. was a trooper and kept up pretty well; Filipinos are notorious cha-cha lovers). There was a sweet slide show of M. and R.'s childhoods and courtship, and of course, the money dance.

But the highlight of the reception was definitely seeing the bride--in full, floor-length white wedding dress and veil, no less!--doing an impromptu kali demonstration during the halad (offering) section of the program. The bride said it wasn't planned, and knowing Tuhan Joe, that doesn't surprise me, but she stepped up to the challenge with her usual panache and grace, and wowed the wedding crowd with some beautiful stick- and knife- (yes, I said knife, but it was a butter knife) play, taking on two other guros (teachers) as well as Tuhan (Master) Joe himself.

I had wanted to try and go to D. and V.'s wedding 'after-party' back in Oaktown after the reception, but it was past 11 p.m. when we left, bamboo plant wedding favors in hand. But we had a great day celebrating the joinings of two beautiful couples, and I send them much love and many blessings as they embark on their lives together.

Mabuhay!
Rona

My Nominee for People's Grammy: Song of the Year

If any work of art captures what 2005 has been about, it's this one, by the Legendary K.O., with respect to Kanye West, of course. Here's the link if you want to just peep the song, which I recommend if you want to hear all the words.

Still Strugglin'--
Rona

Reading/Doing List

Reading:

Sister of My Heart, by Chitra Divakaruni

Harper's Magazine, current issue

Drinking Coffee Elsewhere, by ZZ Packer. ("Ant of the Self" is an amazing, nuanced and heartbreaking story).

Stars in My Pocket Like Grains of Sand, by Samuel Delany

Doing:

Went to the big ANSWER anti-war march in Frisco today, after going back and forth for the longest time about whether I would go. I've been to my fair share of marches, and although I feel that they are necessary and important for movement-building, I go back and forth about how effective I feel like they are in terms of changing policies, stopping wars, and doing the things that they claim to be doing. For the most part, the marches I've been to--the orderly, slightly staid marches where the routes are all pre-set and legal and there's no real surprises or targets for our demands--have felt more like self-indulgent leftist walking parties, where I get to see a lot of folks that I've known and worked with over the last ten years. But are they really helping to sway public opinion about the war? I'm not so sure.

It was nice to see a lot of the youth that my organization works with at the rally, from both our San Jose and Oakland offices, as well as youth (I'm talking high-school age here in case you didn't know) from other Oakland youth organizations. Didn't recognize any of the Filipino lefties that were marching with the usual red flags--but that's cool; I'm glad it's not all the same folks marching in the same demonstrations. Some of the young folks from Californians for Justice had never been to a march like this before.

Worked on my novel today. Getting a good number of pages done this week, after starting a new novel log to help make my writing more structured.

Got a haircut with my old hairdresser from a few years ago. Have a mini-set of bangs now, a mere 1/2 inch section of shorter strands that barely graze my right eyelid. My hairdresser assured me, "It's what everyone wants right now." I didn't have any alternative in mind.

Had dinner at the fairly new HCW: Home of Chicken and Waffles in Jack London Square tonite. Cool place, nice vibe. H. and I were the only non-Black folks in the place, besides the Latino bus boy and a random blonde white dude in a suit that wandered in to pick up his to-go order. It's the kind of place that makes me happy to be back in the 'Town again.

Peace,
Rona