Drunk blogging....

So I am drunk. And I wanted to share with the world just how I feel about my life.

I have been seeing a few men since I was left by my fiancee. Now, I am over my fiancee. After a while of complete isolation from him, I was able to just numb the feelings of love I once felt for him. This is quite interesting because in all honesty, I am still hung up on the feelings, but when I am told that I am loved, I feel nothing. I feel a sadness that is losing such a great love, but the truth is simply that life goes on and we must adjust to the circumstances of life.

Now, I am seeing a number of different people. I refuse to have the same circumstances that I had the past seven year because life happens now and once you experience a part of life that you have had a chance to live to the fullest, you move on to something completely different. It's quite interesting that I had such a serious relationship when I was young because I was able to experience and realize that relationships are not for me. Becoming a player in the process of dealing with the circumstances of life can have some serious consequences. Like for example, sleeping with a complete stranger. It's not the most breakthrough moment you can have; not even a simple common sense moment you can create for yourself. You simply end up feeling the same way because you gave it up with someone who has no recollection of the person you are. It's almost a sad part of life seeing people hook up in order to find some importance in their life. And it's true. If you were a true man, you would find someone that can fulfill your life, instead of finding people who mean absolutely nothing to you.

Like I said, I am drunk. Certain things can be talked about while being drunk, and this is one of them. I don't know who will read this, but I do know that the truth is being spewed each time that you read my blog. And this is one of them. I went from a seven-year relationship...to one-night stands...to I don't know. Now I look for the balance of whore and saint. Could you be more phony? I don't know....Being a whore my whole life, I don't know what else to be. But at the same time, I am a wife with the ability to care for a man better than any single woman out there. Yet, here I am in the same spot as I was seven years ago. And I am smarter, sexier, and better than I have ever been. When you are called a "dime piece" by a complete asshole that takes advantage of women, you know you are doing something right...but that's another blog-post.

I am drunk and I don't give a fuck. Go fuck yourself because it feels good. And fuck the person next to you because they'll appreciate the offer...just saying...

The most destructive, despicable, yet truthful love story of the 20th Century

I decided today would be the day I would continue writing about my adventures while traveling. For the most part, I have only been to Honduras and I lived there for two years. While in those two years, I encountered some wonderful and frightful events that led to me returning home to the place that is safe and comforting. While I live my life, I also enjoy reading the classics because there is nothing like learning from the most intelligent and crazy people that have ever lived. In this case, I chose to read "Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov because it was my time. The things that happen while I live my life lead to the exact moment that I am in today. I shall explain later how such a relationship ties in to my life and my passions.

A brief description of the story of "Lolita" is as follows... Humbert Humbert has a fascination with young girls. He calls him "nymphets" in that these young girls are starved for the lust of older men, but they do not know it yet. When he leaves his native France to the States, he meets a woman with whom he is to spend the summer with. At first, he is extremely disappointed because his intentions were to go with a family that had a little girl living with them. But as he soon discovers, he meets the daughter of the woman he is to spend the summer with, and this is where the story truly begins. Dolores Haze becomes this infatuation, obsession, love that Humbert can not escape. As he fills his days with this nymphet, he begins to write about her in his journal in hopes to pacify any urges that might bring him to insanity. He calls her his Lolita and wishes that one day he will have his way with her. Her mother sends her to camp and wishes to marry Humbert in hopes of finding the man she truly loves. They get married and while he pretends to love the mother, he is more infatuated and obsessed with the idea of bedding Lolita and making her fall in love with him. Lolita's mother soon finds out of her husband's infidel ways of thinking, so she runs into the middle of the street, gets struck by a car and is killed instantly.

Destiny falls into place and now Humbert collects Lolita from camp and they begin their journey of love, lust, perversion, and attempt to create their own normalcy. To end matters, Lolita runs away and marries, Humbert kills the man Lolita ran off with, and ends up in prison for the rest of his life.

I decided not to discuss too much into detail the perverted events that took place while Humbert and Lolita were together because I am not a fan of pedophilia nor do I want to talk about it. But the one thing I will discuss is the ability to love something or someone even though the circumstances can seem completely ridiculous and often times criminal. When we fall in love, regardless with whom, we see nothing but the passion we feel for that person. Everything comes second and you will do anything to be with this person. I myself have endured years of this passion. I gave my life to a passion that was insurmountable, I could barely breathe just thinking about it. It was as if I put a pause on reality in order to feel one more second of this obsession I felt because it fulfilled me entirely. I believe this is how Humbert felt when he got a hold of his Lolita. It was a love so profound that nothing, not even the court system could stop him from getting his goal. I can only give vague details of the life I have led because quite frankly, my life is just one of the many lives that go through these circumstances. And while I hope that you all get this opportunity to feel the love I felt, I also hope you understand the big sacrifice you are giving. You are no longer the person that you thought you were. Your tolerance for pain grows stronger as you begin the road to disappointment. I say disappointment because this love so passionate can only lead to only place: extinguishing death.

I have misplaced my book so I cannot share my favorite quotes with you. I don't think it's necessary anyways. I just think now the reason why I read the book was to compare my life to the life of Humbert. I compare myself to him, and not Lolita, because my Lolita refused me just as much as Humbert's Lolita did. So now that I am at this place wondering all of the choices I made in hopes of finding some answers, I can only say that I loved through and through. The one thing that I have learned from my years of passion is that I do have the ability to love unconditionally. Did I learn how to control myself? No. I think I will always be that girl that engulfs herself in her passions. I think it's the only way to live; to love and to feel everything because then do I feel like I have truly lived the life that I was meant to live.

To end this post, Lolita can be called despicable; Lolita can be called atrocious. I call Lolita the greatest love story ever told simply because the circumstances do not mean anything when it comes to the love and devotion you feel for someone that you've profoundly connected to; there is NOTHING more important than to have that person in your arms at every moment, every breath, every word. I have had the privileged of experience such profound love. While it is destructive to the individual self, nothing can compare to the true feelings felt when falling, and I do mean FALLING, for someone this hard. The worst part about it is having it taken away, as it will most certainly be taken away. But for the mean time, I will do nothing but enjoy the fruits I have been given.

"english speaking zone"- part one

"The reason I'm going into everything that happened in San Francisco is because it ties up with everything else all the way down the line." -Sal Paradise

My first day of school and the rest of my tenure was something worth celebrating. I had arrived at my destination, and unlike Kerouac, I had my reason for travel with me. I was able to obtain a decent job with medical benefits, and a place to stay. I thought it was something worth celebrating, but the circumstances of my job soon unraveled in ways unexpected and down right crazy!

Coming in to the outdoor auditorium/gym, I could hear the loud buzzing of the students chanting their daily mantra of gossip prior to their daily prayer. It was mandatory that everyone join in and share their faith with others. Of course, I would prefer to get on with the daily activities, but that is another blog all together.

After the prayer, the national anthem is sung by all of the students. Again, this is going on during the first period of the classroom, roughly about 15-20 minutes total time. The rumbling of the students takes about five minutes to subside, and we begin, "Tu bandera...." It's a beautiful anthem, but it's quite unnecessary to ramble it every single day, as most of the students did. Once finished, the lovely director, which will be named a "miracle," comes to the stage and introduces the new teacher: Mrs. Melgar! Now, I am not married, so how do I come up with this fabrication of the "Mrs"? I have to keep up appearances at school, and to avoid any misunderstandings, I am married with Mr. Melgar. So very antiquated...

Now that I am introduced, I am given my books (yes, the same day I start) and sent my way to my first classroom. I taught a combination of different classrooms in various grades. To begin writing about my tenure, I can only say that I truly wanted the best for my students. I was ready and willing to devote my time and make sure my students were successful. Unfortunately for me, nobody told my principal of this, nor my students, so I was in for the ride of my life.

A key component to successful teaching is classroom management. I had absolutely none! Imagine a typical day in a class, say Sociology,

"The noise of the students continues in an uproar as the teacher attempts to write the notes on the board and have the students write it down prior to having the lesson start. All of the students are sitting with their faces against the board, speaking in a Spanish that the teacher has never heard. As the teacher asks the students to begin writing their notes, 85% of the students get up to get their notebooks, not even ready and five minutes have passed. Another ten minutes are used to have everyone obtain their materials for "learning." Once they have their notebooks, they begin to ask for pencils, pens, anything they can get their hands on for writing. Two or three students get up and walk around for another two minutes asking everyone for a pencil; and anything else they can think of, only finding one on the desk they left. And the lesson begins, about 15 minutes into the period. Throughout the hour, reprimanding students for speaking without permission is constant. Cell phones are passed around, and notes are thrown. Some students get up and use the restroom, without permission; and some fall asleep, only being 8:30am. As the classroom time finishes, many of the students did not write their notes, and the teacher leaves feeling hopeless and desolate."

This would be a daily occurrence in the classroom and throughout the school. Students, especially in a particular grade, had absolutely no sense of respect for an educational institution, and it was because of the principal. I have taken the blame for all of the faults I had while teaching at the school. Yet I will not take responsibility for that's school's failure. This chaos has been run that way prior to my arrival and it remains the same today.

I say this with the utmost respect, but the principal of the school set up her school so that the students had very little opportunity for success. There are no rules in the school. Children do as they please with very little consequence. An example of this would be the time that two of my thirteen year old students were caught ditching in school property. They chose to not attend my classroom and hung out in the building that was being constructed. As a responsible teacher, or so I thought, I found the students and sent them to the office. These two particular students had already been causing problems at the school, so I asked the principal to contact their parents and possibly even have them suspended for the day. I certainly did not want them in my classroom. The next day, not only did they come back into my classroom, but they taunted me with the fact that they got away with it and continued to fail in their classes and in their lives.

It was impossible to have the students complete their assignments, but more impossible was failing a student, even if they did NOTHING. Paying for the tuition meant that students were guaranteed a diploma at the end of their run. Grades, participation, and behavior were all additional circumstances to the grade, but the MAIN component is money. Students knew this, and took full advantage of the situation. I have one specific example where one of my students, no name mention, received a 54% in my Reading class. He did not turn in his final project, an essay on your favorite book, and so he failed in my eyes. He begged me to change his grade, and gave me excuses, but I said no. It wasn't about the essay only, his overall performance was beyond a failure. So to conclude my example, the next day I see the assistant director changing his grade in front of my face, so that his grade was in the 70% percentile. To make matters worse, the student is dictating to the assistant what he wants for his grade. I was shocked, appalled, embarrassed, undermined, humiliated, and disturbed, among many other things. I asked and continue to ask myself, "How can someone live with themselves knowing that a student is learning how to avoid consequences from the person that's suppose to enforce them?"



Kerouac also had his first travel job in Mill City, CA. His friend, Remi, got Sal (Kerouac) a job as a special policeman. It seems appropriate that both of our job had something to do with dealing with other people, and children at that. His responsibilities began with his, "...flashlight to illuminate my way; I climbed the steep walls of the south Canyon, got up on the highway...scrambled down the other side, almost falling, and came to the bottom of the ravine." This passage way led to barracks filled with "overseas construction workers." As his main job, he had to make sure that, "They didn't tear the barracks down." Most of these men were running away, as he puts it, probably from the law, so one can assume them to be trouble makers.

And soon we come to find out the making of their trouble the night Sal is working alone. The construction workers decide on that great night to get drunk, and so began the tumultuous chaos. As Kerouac explains, "Men were shouting, bottles were breaking. It was do or die for me. I took my flashlight and went to the noisiest door and knocked." The conversation that ensued reminds me of the conversations I would have with my students.

"What do you want?"
I said, "I'm guarding these barracks tonight and you boys are supposed to be quiet as much as you can.
They slammed the door in my face. I knocked again. "Listen, I don't want to come around bothering you fellows, but I'll lose my job if you make too much noise."
"Who are you?"
"I'm the guard here."
"Never seen you before."
"Well here's my badge."
"What are you doing with the pistol cracker in your ass?"
"It isn't mine. I borrowed it."
"Have a drink for christ sakes."

My comparisons are pretty obvious, but I will explain how I came to the conclusion that Kerouac and I had similar experiences with our first travel job. First, there was NO respect. With a few exceptions, there was no respect given to the teacher/special policeman. When I had to enforce anything, like a suspension, it was met with complete shutdown and mockery. When Sal attempts to bring down the noise level, the door is slammed on his face. Once he finally gets in, instead of following orders, they ask him to get a drink, as to say "If you can't beat them, join them." It's as if there is no authority to bring this group to a place of respect. Both of us dealt with the fact that the only way people will get respect is by joining them, and not beating them.

Another item that I took from this was that there is NO authority to bring this group down; which is one of the many reasons why there is no respect. Neither the sheriff nor the principal can honestly bring these kids down, so there is no reason for them to behave. To add to this argument, specifically, the only person that will get in trouble, on both fronts, regardless of the outcome, is the teacher/special policeman. They take the responsibility and they get paid, so they can also get F**KED in the ass.

Although we felt different about our responsibilities, our outcome was the same regardless. I would work long hours and fight everyday with my students, feeling exhausted and hopeless. Kerouac got drunk and posted the US flag up side down, feeling exhausted and hopeless.

To bring everything together, my only concern was the fact that we were failing these kids every single day, and not in their grades. I was unable to give my best because that would conflict with the true philosophy of the school, which can be described simply as the "english speaking zone." It is an inside joke between the people that experienced this horror unfold before them and myself, but we can't help but feel the sadness that occurred daily at that school.

The system was completely broken, and the living situation turned out to be completely disastrous. Because I lived at my school, my landlord was my principal. I blame my departure of San Pedro Sula on her, and this would be the reason. My principal did not like me. My principal hated Carlos. This is the kind of hate that can only be described as pure. I mean no empathy whatsoever; the way you see a friend whose stabbed you in the back.

Kerouac also encounters problems at his home while he deals with extenuating circumstance. Stay tuned!