Book of D: Houston, We Have a Problem

 Well, the time to be in H-Town has arrived. Our Ŧexas Ŧech Red Raiders earned a Bowl birth, so off we went earlier today for the 2022 Tax Act Texas Bowl. It will take place tomorrow (Weds) night, 12/28 at 8 pm versus Ole Miss. It is so oddly strange being in Houston. I was unable to explain it to my spouse, but something just felt off about being in this town. It felt both familiar and unknown, simultaneously. Like I was invading someone's space. Ughhh! Anyway, I am so excited that our Red Raiders won enough games (6) to get a Bowl invite. I was hoping we would get the Alamo Bowl, but that went to the nemesis team to the south. We will be meeting several friends to tailgate first. Our first night in Houston was spent with just my spouse and I going to dinner - nothing fancy as neither of us were really hungry. We drove around the Houston Texans NRG Stadium after we ate. We have been to Minute Maid Park several times; twice to a concert, one being the Madonna concert. But, this venture to NRG Stadium will be our first. Even that fact lends to my anxiety. I'll be honest, it feels weird knowing that my ex lives in the area of Houston. I miss her. I wish our friendship had outlived our relationship, but for whatever reasons, it did not sustain the ups and downs of life. I wish I knew why my ex decided to cut me out of her life. Not that I would try to bullshit myself out of anything negative that I may have done; not like I probably would have done in the past. I just want to know why I cut off like that after we last spoke following my own mother's death. When my ex's respective parents died, her dad in 2021 and her mom in 2022, I was unable to pay my respects properly. It is what it is. I wish I did not battle with anxiety and depression (with a hint of melancholia and a chance of meatballs, lol) because that only adds to me missing people in such a manner that it effects my mental health. I miss people way more than they seem to miss me. I guess I'm just stupid that way. I guess my inability to let go of things is my Achilles heel. All I know is that I am literally just a few miles from my ex, and as much as I would love to talk to her in person (phone would work just as well), I know she would more than likely not respond well, and I do not want to upset her. I wish good things for her. The last thing I want to do is to upset her - especially after the fact that she lost her parents, during back-to-back years. I am certain she is in a lot of pain because of that. So, I will eat my feelings. 

My cell 432-235-3841 . . . I'm leaving options open in case she's reading this.

Book of D: Not Even Santa Can Bypass TSA Security

Okay, so the other day santa was chilling at the front gates of the airport. He looked kind of shady, in my opinion. He looked like he wanted to smoke, but knowing he could not, he just looked perturbed. He was in the airport express ticket line but didn't have the proper ticket. He was getting upset, but he didn't yell at anyone. He kept right on like he knew what he was doing - even though those of us who had been keeping our eyes on him knew better. I'm not sure if maybe he was drunk or high or anything sinister like that, but he did look rather unusual. Even as the other customers got past the ticket area and made their way to the TSA area, they kept watch over this guy. For one, why was he even allowed to don the santa suit. It was funny but not funny. This santa thought he was going to be able to bypass the TSA security check-in procedures. He was made to take off his hat, wig, and beard - and he was getting livid. He really lost it when security asked him to remove his boots. And, oh, man . . . talk about causing a scene. He was a black person, so he used the race card to justify his claim of discrimination and loudly said, "if I had been a White santa, no one would have questioned me, but because my skin is dark, I am getting hounded. If my skin was white, I would've walked right on through." The TSA rep said, "no, sir. This has absolutely nothing to do with the color of your skin or your race." The man in the santa suit yelled at the rep and asked her why then were they holding him back, he was late to his gate. The TSA rep said, "once again, sir, we're not discriminating against you because of your color but you must know that are we not authorized to allow santa or any of his elves or reindeer to pass through the security area, regardless of color, or how many legs they have without first getting scanned and checked out thoroughly." Everyone burst out in laughter. I know I did. That response by the TSA rep was awesome! The guy in the santa suit calmed down and removed all the articles he had been asked to remove. He collected his personal belongings and proceeded to leave the TSA area, but he added, "man, santa can't even catch a fucking break these days. Only in America!"The TSA rep responded with, "Yeah, only in America does santa think he is special, too!" OMG. That was hilarious. I still don't understand how this guy was allowed to wear the outfit in the airport. Honestly, I was looking out for a boxcutter. No, not because the guy was black, but because he was being irrational. There's a time and a place to use the race card, but this was clearly not the time to use it. Santa is still expected to follow all the same rules and regulations as the rest of us humans. LOL. I'm just glad everything turned out okay, but I was especially glad that this santa was not booked on the same flight as we were.You can't make this stuff up, folks. I witnessed this first-hand. It was a daunting scene that played out that day, but what a story to share with my family at Christmas.

Book of D: I Believe in Santa Claus and Coach Mike Leach

I never met either one, but for reasons respective of each one, I believe in them. For the little kid that is supposed to live within each of us especially during the holiday advent or season, I still believe in old St. Nick. The meaning behind Santa is one of spreading holiday cheer after all, and I definitely partake in that. I believe in all the positive and loving things that "Father Christmas" represents. I also believe in the legend that is Mike Leach. He died much too soon last night following a massive heart attack from which he never recovered. I was sad to hear of his sudden illness and rush to the hospital. I thought about his wife and children right away - just as I do whenever someone I knew passes away. I immediately think of the loved ones. I was especially torn when I heard Coach Leach was being taken off life support and taken for hospice care. My heart knows all-too-well what that damn hospice care really means. I still remember my late Mom's eyes when hospice care was brought up following her blighted prognosis and how stupidly I sounded when I tried convincing her that hospice care did not mean what she thought. Boy, Mama must have thought I was ridiculous the minute those fucking words left my mouth. I was gut-busted when the news of Coach Leach's death was finally announced to the public this morning. You see, as I already said, I did not know the man; however, I still liked him and admired him and his [maniacal] coaching ways - mostly during his 9+ years as the head football coach of Ŧexas Ŧech U. He was called many things due to his aberrant playcalls, but after his death, the sport's pundits finally admitted that coach Leach was a football legend. Leach did for college football and our Ŧexas Ŧech football program what many before him had failed to do: he made college ball and Ŧech so freaking exciting to watch. He brought us a very different approach to the spread offense, and he literally designed "air raid!" I scarcely doubted our Red Raiders would lose under the mad coaching skills of Leach. Even if Ŧech lost, there was a reason for it, but I seldom blamed coach Leach. Leach always took the blame, and he often took others "down" with him with some choice (but funny) words for his players and coaching staff. His remarks always made me laugh and helped me to better brush off a Ŧech loss. I knew he would have the team ready for the next game following a loss. Coach Leach never pussyfooted around the media either; he called shit for the shit it was. He used humor like the straightman in a comedy duo would, and it would make one wonder, "did he really just say that?" and "Did he mean to say that?" Anyway, I will miss Coach Leach. I will always be saddened that the Ŧexas Ŧech admin fired him in '09. My spouse and I protested and marched back then to demand that the admin hire him back and to explain why they believed some whiny player and his arrogant father (who was an ESPN commentator at the time). Whatever the reason, Coach found a new home as HC at Washington State U (WSU Cougers). Eventually, he would grow his talents as a head coach and found yet another home at Mississippi State, where he was coaching when he passed. I always followed coach's career and would make sure to watch him coach his teams on tv as long as it did not interfere with my Ŧexas Ŧech football games. I am sure going to miss watching him coach Miss St. this year. He led them to a college bowl, and I was excited to watch him coach his Bulldogs. BTW, the Miss St. Bulldogs will face off against the Illinois Fighting Illini in the ReliaQuest Bowl on January 2, 2023 in Tampa Bay. This video was made for Coach Leach by our Raiderland family. I added the captions. Rest well, Coach (Captain Our Captain).

Book of D: The Menacing Dream: What Would You Do

What would you do? If you were having a menacing dream for three days straight, and you were at your wits end, what would you do? The trepid dream has actually been a lingering one for me for many years; it comes and it goes, and what it means, nobody knows. I know, I know that rhymed. I wasn't trying to go all Dr. Suess on you all. These dreams are just plain ole freaking me out. 

I guess that in the scheme of things, trying to figure out what it means to be dreaming these dreams is kind of pointless. After all, trying to make sense or even contemplating a fix would only lead to a rabbit hole. A dark rupture in all things sensical. I can see it work out, first you would seek to be the hero or the protagonist, but you would fail because in real life, no one ever really wins - not even the good guys or the heroes. In the real world, the question of 'what would you do' hardly ever bends to provide a clear answer. Seldom does life help turn a negative situation into a positive one. We're all humans after all, and we are bound to screw up something whilst trying to fix it. It wouldn't be broken in the first place if we humans only did better. Sometimes broken things, much like broken people, are best left alone.

Not everything needs to be perfect nor do we need to seek out a dystopian world because it really just doesn't exist. Humans were meant to screw things up. But, the question is: were we meant to try to fix everything we break?!! If we break a plate, do we fix it? There are many underlying issues that we must ponder before we decide if said plate is even worth fixing. For one, is it worth it, both monetarily and psychologically. Is the plate too expensive to replace . . . does the plate create innate satisfaction? These are just a couple of questions we could pose to ourselves that would make fixing the plate worth it or not. Okay, so omit the plate scenario and plug in a relationship. What if a relationship is broken. How does a person figure out if said relationship should be fixed or not. After all, there really is no monetary amount affixed to one's heart; actually, there shouldn't be monetary value when it pertains to matters of the heart. So, we move on to ask ourselves if the relationship holds psychological value? I'm sure the answer is probably going to be yes, so there must be other factors to input at this point because deeming a relationship as important is not enough for a person to want to fix it. Is trying to fix the relationship going to 'open Pandora's Box,' per se, or will the end result become a copacetic fix. Ugh, just trying to answer some of these questions is gnawing at my gut. I need to take a break from all of this pondering and wondering and just chill.

Ŧexas Ŧech Double Ŧs for Ŧexting

Ŧexas Ŧech University

Book of D: Let's Go to the Movies

The Menu (2022): It's a movie I have been wanting to see ever since the first promo trailer premiered. It stars Ralph Fiennes, who is one of my favorite British actors. Fiennes plays a world-class acclaimed chef who prepares a lavish tasting menu, along with some shocking surprises ala unexpected ingredients. TBC. Our UTPB's annual Celebration on the Quad awaits. I have volunteered to help set up the event, which starts at 6 PM. BRB!

Book of D: The Feels

Ughhh. Why do I allow myself to feel this way. I wish there was a magic pill that could make the feels go away. All these days of anticipation for answers about my workspace appear to be leading up to nothing. Nothing has changed. El jefe is still being evasive and nonconforming. Hell, he can't actually succumb to being a nonconformist if he hasn't even been around to hear my pleas and ideas. Hell, I'm not asking for much. I just want what my peers are getting: a nice office with carpet, ceiling tiles, new desk (sit-to-stand) and matching shelves and hutch. The shithole that has been proposed - last week, mind you - is pathetic. My colleague spoke to me about it earlier this morning. As usual, he and I were the first ones to work in the area where our offices are located. The other two cohorts had not yet arrived and neither had our student workers.

My colleague said he heard from the grapevine that I was being assigned an office sans carpet and tile. I said, "yeup" and proceeded to show him the pictures I had taken last week. The area I will be taking on as my "office" used to belong to the literature department; they used it as a library. The reason there is no carpet or ceiling tile is because they wanted as much space possible, vertically as as well as horizontally, that would allow the tallest shelves, and as many of them that would fit the circumference of the room, thus providing more space for books and such. It was a tight-fit according to the communications specialist who is helping me with the move by providing me with a phone line and access for my computer and laptop docking station. To revamp one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite romcom movies, "I'm also just a girl standing in front of 'her boss' asking him to 'get her a decent office.'" It's seems so elementary to solve the feeling of crappiness - or feeling crappy - but I assure you that it is not that simple. If it was easy, most therapists would be out of a job and the person who figured out the magic pill or potion would be more rich that Bill Gates, Elon Musk, and Warren Buffet combined.

Book of D: Crimes of Racist America

Till: Till is a 2022 biographical film about Mamie Till Mobley whose 14-year-old son Emmett Till was lynched in 1955. Till became an activist and fought for justice following her son's unmerited and abominable death. The movie is really good, and most of the time, it is jarringly painful and infuriating – as it well should be. Lest we forget.

The murder of Emmett Till continues to haunt the American imagination and tarnish the decadent southern reputation. Although Emmett was from Chicago, his visit to the Delta in August 1955 to visit relatives, will forever be nomenclature regarding the racist South. The younger Till was castigated for communicating with Carolyn Bryant in the store owned by Carolyn’s husband, Roy, in Money, Mississippi, where Emmett had entered to buy bubble gum. Apparently Till whistled at or spoke to Carolyn; no one knows for certain, but it was enough to infuriate Roy Bryant and his half-brother J. C. Milam to ruthlessly murder Emmett. It took three days to recover Emmett's body from the Tallahatchie River, where Bryant and Milam disposed of Till's body, by tying a seventy-five-pound cotton gin fan tied around his neck to weigh it down – after they had already cracked open Emmett's skull and gouged his eye out. Mamie insisted on an open-casket funeral so that everyone could see what had been done to her Emmett. Jet magazine and other media sources published pictures of his mangled body, which horrified the world. Adding to the infamy of their crime, Till’s murderers were acquitted by an all-white, all-male jury in Sumner, Mississippi, on September 23, 1955, and a few months later sold the story of how they abducted, tortured, and killed Till to William Bradford Huie for a Look magazine interview. Although justice was never served in the case, Till’s brutal death and the subsequent sham trial were a catalyst for the Civil Rights Movement. 

I dare anyone to Google "Emmett Till death photos" and not become indignant over the injustice nor to be able to refrain from despondency or commiseration over the severity of his savage injuries.

Book of D: Self-Reparation

I remember yearning for a love that didn't exist . . . at least not in this worldly realm called earth. If someone did or didn't do something for me that made me feel safe and secure - I saw it as a sign that the person didn't love me. In actuality, it was me not loving myself enough and not being able to find the security that can only be obtained within oneself. I punished others for not being able to help me find the love I was so feverishly craving  - from myself. 

Unbeknownst to me, there was never going to be any one person who would be able to love me enough or make me feel secure enough until I was ready and cognizant enough to love myself. True story.

Book of D: The Omnipotence Paradox: Overcoming Stagnation

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? That is an age-old question. The question remains adroitly oriented - with both the unstoppable force and the immovable object having become analogous to each other. Much like the relationship between a ruler and his subjects as analogous to that of father and children. Folks, it's like Thanos versus Everybody else at MCU. Hell, even in the movie The Dark Knight when the eponymous character throws caution and circumspect to the wind as he does battle, before delving into conversation, with the always antagonistic Joker. The latter makes mention of said unstoppable force meeting an immovable object and adds that their conflict is "destined to last forever."

The Dark Knight is told that he has too much misplaced self-righteousness to kill the Joker, and the Joker admits that he has way too much fun taunting the Dark Knight to kill him. Their views about being locked up in a padded cell are almost tantamount except the Dark Knight says that the Joker belongs in one and the Joker agrees but adds that they both belong in a padded cell. Truth reigns supreme most often, but not so much in the unstoppable force meeting an immovable object adage. It's still quite perplexing and paradoxical; to me, that is, especially when incorporating Newton’s 2nd Law, which states that Acceleration is equal to Force divided by Mass (A=F/M). Um, no! 

Hey, this should not rely on math or require scientific proof. 

All I really know is that when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object and causes stagnation, one of the variables must be eradicated or dismissed. There is no room in this person's life for stagnation. Sometimes I think that my exigent need to please others is the immovable object; however, my will to succeed in things I really want is the unstoppable force. Example in hand: I currently have a research project due for a committee I am heading up, but spending time with loved ones is important because of the holidays. The project is the unstoppable force but my loved ones are the immovable object. The project is going to have to wait, right? The object will redirect the force. But, don't tell Newton or the ones who study this stuff 24/7, 365. It's lame, I know. Stupid Jokes 'r' Us.

To my defense of being lame, we are working with a light staff this week at the university, so it's kind of boring around here. Plus, the majority of our students have already gone home for Thanksgiving. Most of us in the division are telecommuting tomorrow since we're only required to work a half day. There's no use, especially for those of us who drive in from Midland, to come in for just four hours. I might use my comp time today to go home early today, which is doubtful because I need to make progress on the research project.

Book of D: FIFA World Cup, Qatar, Human Rights ... Versus My Love of Soccer

The world-wide quadrennial tournament is underway. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I'm not referring to the peoples' physiognomy or outward appearances, I'm referencing the wayward and extremely antiquated politics and values of Qatar. Regardless of how people around the world view the country of Qatar, this year's World Cup is predicted (by statistical computation and algorithms) to attract 5 billion viewers — almost two-thirds of the planet’s population. Already, there has never been a World Cup anything close like Qatar 2022 - and this is before a soccer ball (fútbol) has even been kicked. There are a myriad of human rights groups in uproar and protest over everything from the mistreatment of LGBTQ people in Qatar where homosexuality is illegal as well as questions surrounding the mysterious deaths of the construction workers who have been exhaustingly building the facilities in Qatar. The storied organizer FIFA is trying to recover from scandals laden with outcries of corruption that have cast aspersions in relation to how Qatar was even considered and awarded the World Cup competition. Erstwhile, Sepp Blatter, FIFA chief, went on record to say he regretted that the Gulf country was picked as host. FIFA is adept at availing itself of the onerous responsibility of picking a host site every four years - much like the Olympics. So for anyone at FIFA, the world's most powerful (and loathed) sports organization, to attempt to show remorse for choosing such a dreadful location, I call blasphemy and ignominy (shame). Qatar is not only hateful in its maltreatment of women and the LGBTQ community, but its antiquated kafala labour system endangers austerity, poverty, and success among those still seen as part of the outgroup and outliers within its hidden caste system. Still, FIFA and the World Cup remain popular and prosperous. One writer said it best regarding the doubtless popularity of FIFA and the World Cup: the sport remains one of the last bastions of live television viewing considering how audiences have been fleeing traditional broadcasters for online streaming services in the last few years (2022).

As for me and my love of soccer (fútbol), it started in the 90s when Mia Hamm and company reigned supreme in the sport of women's' soccer. The United States Womens National Team (USWNT) was on fire and winning competition after competition. My girlfriend during that time was from Mexico, and a huge fútbol fan to boot (pardon the pun), so she provided much insight and tutelage to this American who did not yet fully appreciate "fútbol." As my education in soccer grew, so did my love of the sport. It was around the same time I started loving cycling and Le Tour de France. My gf taught me the logistics of soccer, but I ventured off on my own to learn the names of the players, their positions, how the pitch is controlled and how pitch is another name for the playing field, how the kit is the name for the standard equipment and attire worn by players, etcetera. G-d I adore soccer (fútbol), and I am so proud to be one of the first Americans to appreciate the beautiful game - before it gained in popularity in the USA. With all that stated, I wish I could boycott the current World Cup games, but I cannot. For my love of the game and of my National teams is much too mighty and potent. I scream and yell for all our National teams, so when World Cup soccer rears its face, I succumb and watch. Afterall, it's not every day that I get to cheer on Team USA. Before I end the post, one question: Why in the world did the USMNT not play Gio Reyna vs Wales on Tuesday, Nov. 21, 2022? The USMNT should have won that game 1-0 instead of allowing Wales to score for a 1-1 draw in the Group B opener. Team USA's most solid defender, Walker Zimmerman, foolishly conceded a futile penalty 10 minutes from fulltime, which then allowed Team Wales' own Gareth Bale the pk, which he "cashed in" in emphatic fashion to level the score, 1-1. Team USA never recovered. Again, where was Gio? We needed the three points, one point at this juncture might not be enough to make it out of the group. J.S. 

Book of D: Familial Gathering and a Chill Weekend

Today, my sis J, her hubby, daughter (whom I consider my daughter), and I attended the early Thanksgiving Day celebration with our late Mom's family here in Midland. My cousins are the children of my favorite aunt, whom was my Mom's favorite sister on their Mother's side of the family. Confusing, I know. My cousin Stella lives in Midland (where Josie and I live). In fact, we three don't live very far from one another. Stella rented the Girl Scouts (GS) Center in Midland for the nice occasion. It was a pretty nice establishment.

(L2R): Jabier, Alex, Josie, Dora

Overall, the event was lovely, and the food was delicious and plentiful. My cousins hit a homerun. It was really nice to see my cousins after so many years. Most of us had not seen each other since my Mom's funeral eleven years ago. My aunt J (my fav aunt) was unable to attend the dinner; she had a personal issue to tend to, so her and my other cousins from Ulysses, KS were not able to drive down to spend the day with us all. 

I was proud of myself for attending if I must be honest. Since covid, I have been somewhat of an introvert. I have clinically diagnosed OCD and anxiety, so being around so many people, related or not, is sometimes a struggle for me. Plus, I lost hearing in my left ear back in 1996, so that hearing condition just adds to the stress and anxiety that being around crowds induces. Not being able to properly hear conversations is not the only issue caused by hearing loss, the other negative obstacle is that I end up with a loud ringing in my ear when I am around too many people. It is not Tinnitus - it's more like otosclerosis. According to specialists/doctors, otosclerosis can be treated with a hearing aid, but surgery is often required. I don't want surgery. Anyway, getting out and being around large crowds makes me uneasy, but today, I decided that I was not going to disappoint my sister or my cousin since I had already given my word that I would attend the family celebration. 

Saldivar Cousins (L2R):
Dora, Josie, Annette,
Stella, JR, Rachel, Ruby

My cousins are wonderful. They are my favorite cousins because they have always made my family and I feel welcomed and loved. They are not pretentious whatsoever. Rich or poor, they are all modest and unassuming. Plus, they adored my Mom and respected her and pampered her whenever she visited with them. That, my friends, goes a very long way in my book, per se. Moreover, when I arrived at the GS Center, my cousins asked about my wife. I explained that she was unable to attend. It was so liberating to be so open about my relationship. They even asked how long we had been "married" - to which I answered, 25 years next March. They were all talking about how long they had been married, so it was refreshing to have been included. They asked if my wife and I had plans to celebrate the 25 years, and I said that we hope to vacation in Costa Rica or Alaska. I wish my wife could have attended, but I forgot that the gathering was today, so when my sis and her family had already arrived at the GS center, my sis texted me and asked if we were still planning on attending. I said yes, then I had to make a mad dash to get ready. My wife wanted to stay home and relax. I did not blame her for not being in the mood to get up and get ready so quickly. She has been traveling a lot for work to train her employees on new policies and procedures with DPS; therefore, I was cool with her decision to stay home. 

I am grateful that I have had a really good weekend. After the last two weeks of ups and downs at work, I was ready for this weekend. Saturday was spent just mellowing out and binge watching season 5 of The Crown, followed by Ŧexas Ŧech Red Raider football. They beat Iowa St. and became "bowl eligible!" Yeah, buddy . . . #WreckEm! Sunday, my spouse and I slept in a little. I woke up first, made coffee, fed my late, beautiful Caty's clowder. I was so happy to see that all the cats (which includes four kittens) made it through the frigid night. I made a shelter for them after conducting much research about how to prepare adequate cover for feral cats during cold weather. I made brunch for my honey and myself, then we settled in to watch the 2022 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which we missed last night on HBO since we decided to watch A Christmas Story Christmas - after our Red Raiders won their game. Wow. Seeing it in writing makes me worry that we watched too much tele. LOL. It's all good. We actually did a lot of things aside from watching t.v. this weekend. After the family gathering, I went to buy items for our family Thanksgiving Day celebration in Big Spring this Thursday. I will be making the ham, so off to HEB I went to get the ham and other items. Speaking of actual Thanksgiving Day, it has been much too long since my sisters, their respective families, and I have gotten together to celebrate Thanksgiving. Thanks, covid. So, we are all looking forward to just being together. We're celebrating at my sis Eva's beautiful new home. Yay! 

Book of D: The Art Between a Disagreement and an Argument

A disagreement and an argument are totally different. A disagreement is when both parties are trying to make a positive change - while an argument is when one party is trying to win. If you're arguing with someone you love, that should be the time when you shouldn't want to win. Why would you want to win over someone you're supposed to care deeply about. Right? (rhet.)

Thanks to the indomitable Terry Lewis for saying something similar to this during his acceptance speech; I paraphrased his eloquent comment 😉. Lewis, along with his career partner and friend, Jimmy Jam, were inducted during the 2022 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Lewis and Jam (a.k.a. James Harris III) are one of the most successful writer-producers of the 1980s till this very day. The musical artists and community with whom they have collaborated is simply astounding. Anyway, I just had to put that out there regarding the art between a disagreement and an argument.

Book of D: Letting Go Without Getting Scathed

Not long ago, one of my friends, who had just broken up with his girlfriend of nine years, told me, “I really hate that almost everything I’ve had to let go of in my life has scratch marks on it.” I took it as him trying to describe what a difficult time he was having with things he has no control over. I definitely relate to that - as I’m sure many people can, too. I must confess that I have had a hard time letting go of certain things in my own life. At certain junctures, I also found myself scathed and scratched up from my inability to accept things and let go.

Laws of Karma

I accept culpability for my part in it, but I also hold the other parties accountable. I am not so omnipotent where I should take full blame for things because everything good and bad takes more than one person to carry out. 

Additionally, I'm no longer that silly, confused, lovestruck person who basically let others walk all over me while I, conversely, partook in some ill behavior as retribution. My coping mechanism at one time in my life was to hurt others the same way they had hurt me. It's not an excuse, it's a fact. I do not condone my inferior actions, but I no longer castigate myself for being that way because I did not know how to funnel my feelings or to control them. My initial response to things that hurt me was to fight back. I have always despised being ignored, too, so whenever anyone ignored me, well, that was also cause for me to be a nonsensical hater. I hate that part of my life, but I cannot change it. I have accepted what I did, and for those I hurt, I have made peace with and forgiven myself. I was told by an intellect and kind of a Yoda wizard that when we put hurt out into the world and recognize that we have done so, we only owe it to ourselves and maybe even karma, or whatever deity we believe in, to be remorseful and to do better going forward. He added that we are never expected to apologize to those we hurt unless it is with purpose. In other words, apologies are for the people who have been static in our lives and will continue to be. And while regret is okay in moderation, apologies should be held for those who truly matter. Apologizing to someone who has not been in your life for a long time is nonsensical and self-deprecating. My Yodaesque acquaintance went on to explain that karma works much like the biblical "you reap what you sow." He recommended that people ask themselves what they need to release so they can create space for the thing(s) they desire in their lives. In essence, like a computer, clean out the files that are unessential and do nothing for us in order to make space for the truly important files. 

So, let's print out a "circle of control" worksheet and rethink what we can and cannot control. Maybe we can even create a Venn diagram to show how some items and people might belong in the middle of the "can/cannot" control area. But, to keep true to today's post, let's be more methodical and contribute more good will to our own lives so we are able to put good things into the world. Let's keep ourselves from getting scathed by holding on to the people and things that are not good for us. Let it go!

Book of D: Remembering an Icon: Mama

Today marks 11 years since we lost Mom to esophageal cancer. Not one day goes by that I don’t think about her – or miss her. When she passed away, my sisters and I became the elders of the family. I have taken that to heart, but as I try to lead within my family, I have stumbled and failed. Trying in earnest to fill some pretty big shoes – almost always falling short. 

Eva M. Dominguez
(1934 - 2011)

The reason I shared the Christina Applegate post earlier, on social media, was to not just commend her for sharing her story about multiple sclerosis, but because I wanted to share my mom's story and how she dealt with her autoimmune issues and fought back against their debilitating condition – day after day . . . until she went home to meet her Maker. Much like MS and other autoimmune diseases, doctors still don't know from where they originate, or why some people get one illness and other people don't; whether it's genetic or environmental. Esophageal cancer, like MS, is diagnosed late in the illness . . . often making it too late to do anything. My mom was diagnosed at stage 4, and there was little to be done about it, but my mom didn't give up. She kept going, day after day, never giving up, and instilling in us the will to fight because of her own will to fight. She never wavered. We watched in horror and heartache as Mom succumbed to the cancer monster, which I have termed it for public use rather than call it what I usually do in private, and with each passing day, she lost weight because she reached the point in the terminal illness of not being able to eat. Imagine everything that accompanies it; it is much too vulgar and heartbreaking for me to include, plus, it is extremely triggering. 

My mom lives in me. She taught me everything I know right now about loving and listening. Like Albert Bandura (who is my favorite theorist) posited, I learned to socialize and how to treat others well as a child – by way of example more than anything through Mom. I was fortunate to have been her daughter because she instilled in me many values and mores and how it’s best to give a leg up instead of a hand down.

Through Mom, I learned to just listen. If there is one piece of advice I would like to provide to everyone reading this, it would be this: learn to listen to other people with intent and don't listen to respond. Don't be ready to lend advice or make an unneeded comment just to overcome the silence for that denotes it being more about you than about the person you’re supposed to be listening to. I promise you'll learn more about yourself when you listen with a purpose. 

The day of Mom’s funeral, many people reached out to me and my sisters. They shared stories of how my mom had helped them. People I didn't know were approaching me that day to tell how my mom provided shelter, money, food, love, understanding, and compassion, and more often than not, how Mom merely provided the kindness of listening. Yes, many strangers came forward and shared Mom’s stories with us, and it meant a lot to me; I know it meant a lot to my sisters and family. My mom helped other people, not through community, but by standing alone and just doing the right thing. Mom was rich through love; she loved without condition and others reciprocated her love because “how could they not?” She was rich with caring for and about others. She was rich through helping other people without question. She was magnanimous. I've often said that the one word I would always use to describe my mom is magnanimous. 

Through the stories of a hero as defined through canon by the great Joseph Campbell, my mom was a hero. She will always be my hero. ¡Te extraño, Mama!

Book of D: The Wild Doesn't Feel Sorry for Itself

“I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. 

D. H. Lawrence

 A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough 

without ever having felt sorry for itself.” 

 ― D.H. Lawrence, The Complete Poems of D.H. Lawrence

Why is it that humans can't follow suit? After all, humans are supposed to be smarter, right? I know. I know. As humans, our intelligence quotient differs from that of our emotional intelligence, which posits that we're going to eat our emotions and stomp all over making sound decisions. Feeling sorry for ourselves as humans is what sets us apart from the animal kingdom, but is it okay that we use it as an excuse to be assholes to others whenever we're having an emotionally inept kind of day? To this I answer, "NO!" Nothing ever gives us humans the right to mistreat anyone or anything. It's okay to have a pity party from time to time, but it has to stop at one point, and it must never impede upon or create negativity onto another living person, animal, or thing.

Book of D: The 🧡 and Center of the Center

Earlier this morning, our division boss came over to our area so we could follow him to the Student Activity Center (SAC). As it turns out, the furniture for the new Center for Student Belonging and Inclusion (CSBI), which is housed on the second floor of the SAC, arrived an entire month early. The furniture arrived and was set up yesterday. The new CSBI is a beautiful area. It used to be the gaming room, but the decision to move the gamers to a new center at the library was made by the university; that new gaming area is going to be a cool area, too. It has been a long, arduous process to get the gaming room renovated into the CSBI. The staff that is fortunate enough to move there is very excited. The furniture is nice and new. The area just needs to be cleaned (swept, mopped, and dusted), of which I so eloquently (or stupidly) volunteered to be the "lead." Not to clean, which is okay because no one is ever too good to clean, it's an honest living. My vol task was to contact the account manager, of the 3rd party cleaning company the U contracts with, and request that they please clean the CSBI. Anyway . . .

So, to my sheer and utter disappointment, I will not be joining my cohorts to the new CSBI. My role as the UTPB Coordinator of Health and Wellness Promotion is taking on new duties. I'm not sure yet what all that means and entails. Our boss has not been as forthright as we would like for him to be with several of us. I guess being "in the loop" is above our pay grade. There are two of us at the present area who did not "make the cut," per se, and will not be following our other colleagues to the CSBI. Both of us talked after the walkthrough with our boss, and we each expressed our disappointment at not being included in the move to the CSBI where students will be made to feel like they "belong" and are "included." I guess the sentiment of "belonging and inclusion" only applies to students and not to staff. Yeah, that was me being petty and a smart ass. But, am I not allowed to be. After all, for almost two years, I was told that my programs would be a vital part of the CSBI. Two of the newbies are going to the CSBI. I'm not mad at them; their programs are definitely vital and should be part of the CSBI, but I also have the right to feel indignant and despondent over not being included in the move. I knew there was a time when my role would change, but it has not been made clear to-date, so all I know is that I will be moving to the 4th floor near the counseling area. My boss called me on my office phone yesterday and asked how I would feel about "taking Stacie's old office" - to which I politely declined. Rest in peace, Stacie, I respectfully do not want your office. Poor Stacie has barely been gone a week, and the boss is already making plans for her office. That's just not very kosher or cool. You pick which one, but for me, it's both. Plus, it's cynical, trite, and vile to move so quickly after a person has died. But, that's the kind of boss we sometimes have. While he is highly intelligent, knowledgeable, and ambitious, his managerial and people skills are severely lacking. I am happy for my coworkers who do get to move to the CSBI. I won't act in a negative manner towards them or around them. It is what it is. Life happens when we're busy worrying for others. Bottom line, it's dire that we keep all eyes open when working at a university because who you know is as important as the degree that hangs on your office wall. Enjoy the pics.

 

Book of D: Boba Fett & Boba Tea

Earlier today, UT Permian Basin hosted "Boba and Panel Chat" for International Education Week! The event was sponsored by our very own Center for Student Belonging and Inclusion; moreover, Stephanie, our Program Coordinator for International Student Services, served as the event emcee. It took place at the Student Activity Center (SAC) Starbucks Café at 10 a.m.. 

 

Steph was nice enough to bring John and me some Boba ("bubble") tea prior to the event starting. I love that Boba stuff. I asked her if Boba Fett would be at the event, and she just stared at me like 'I don't really know who that is?' LOL. It was funny. John took a while before he got the joke.

Unfortunately, all my fellow Star War's buddies work in other departments on campus, so my dry sense of humor, well, it remains so unappreciated. 😅 The event was nice. We had four of our professors on the panel. Each one from a different country with different experiences on how they journeyed to the U.S.. For the most part, each professor stated that higher education, though extremely tough at times, was the main reason they came to this country. I did some research following the event to see how having a PhD might help a foreigner obtain a green card, and I found some information on VISA Nation that explained it. The following was stated:

"While your Ph.D. does not automatically grant you a green card, you may find that many of the requirements for the EB-1A or EB-1B have been fulfilled throughout your studies. Things like exclusive memberships, scholarly published articles, and acting as a judge are all things that may go along with getting your degree" (2022).

So, I did further research because I wanted to know exactly what EB-1A and EB-1B meant, and it is extremely interesting. However, it is all much too long and not at the heart of today's blog topic, so maybe I will write about it at a later time. That's it in a nutshell, folks! It's time to make tracks.

Book of D: The Admonishing Wind

Today's funeral service for Stacie was quite somber but really nice. (Stacie's obits: Legacy & Sunset Funeral Home)

As for the weather, it was a fairly cold day with moderate winds blowing on and off. The temp during the service reached 49°, but it felt colder because of the winds. The winds were ominous to say the least. As if to warn or reprimand us in firm fashion, the wind could be heard from outside the funeral parlor. The mighty wind seemed intent on crashing in to remind us that we are mere mortals with absolutely no power. A clamorous yell through the mighty air prompting us that the power still belongs to an entity that we are not deserving to know - not now or perhaps never. The pockets of air were accompanied by a fire and brimstone eulogy that probably would have had Stacie herself scratching her head in angst and dubiety. I do not claim to know Stacie's relationship to G-d - nor do I claim to know her relationship with her family, I only lay claim to the myriad of conversations she and I had in the past that left me somewhat perplexed following the funeral service because she always stated that she was more spiritual than religious. Anyway, it is was it is, and the service was still nice as I stated. There were many people in attendance. Our division alone sported around 50 people in attendance at the funeral, which is not bad considering our division has around 80 employees. I was impressed and proud of how many of our "Falcon family" attended.

An email from Corey, our boss, went out on Sunday to let us know how we would proceed with Monday's funeral. Corey also had a "We Are Falcons" flag flown over campus Monday in Stacie's honor. Stacie's mom, dad, and some family members were given a grand tour Monday of the university before the funeral service - during the tour, the flag was presented to her family. I had the good fortune of partaking in a nice conversation with Stacie's mom before the funeral service started; she is a kind lady. I told her I was holding her and the family in my heart.

I will always remember Stacie as the vibrant and intelligent person she was. I had the privilege of training with Stacie when I moved from Student Success to the Dean of Students/Student Affairs. We had experts from UT Austin come up to train us in the area of BASICS and CASICS. Eventually, those programs, along with Bystander Intervention and the Tobacco Use Initiative, came to live with me, and me alone, on a permanent basis. Stacie, as the lone student counselor, believed the programs were punitive to her role, so I became the lone facilitator, and I have never looked back. On occasion, I would seek her advice, but most often, she would simply say, "you got this." Our times together on campus are included in the pictures. There were too many to include, so I am posting the really eventful ones.

Book of D: Flowers, Team Work, and Ambiance

I was honored to have been able to arrange for flowers to be sent to our colleague's funeral service(s). My team (the Center for Student Belonging and Inclusivity - CSBI) and I corroborated via Teams to get Stacie's floral arrangement. Each of us made suggestions and ultimately, we decided that this one arrangement would be the perfect selection.

I offered to pay for the floral arrangement upfront, and my coworkers did not take long, after I placed the order, to remunerate their respective portion via Zelle, Venmo, and Cash App. Honestly, I would have paid it on my own, but the point was to show a unification of sorts. It was also a show of support for one another as we commemorated the passing of one of our own. Team work at our university is in abounds; we truly care for one another, and it means so much - especially during times like this. There are so many events that we each have respectively held and had the support of the other team members. Holding events is part of our jobs. Each coordinator usually facilitates one or two events per semester, but we are fortunate that we can count of the rest of our division to help as needed. Coming together to buy Stacie's flowers was a small show of that unity and team work. There have been several fun events that we have all participated in throughout the years. The most important piece of assembly is that of creating a warm and inviting ambiance. I believe that by sending flowers, we not only provided the much-needed warm ambiance, but we helped facilitate emotional release. Moreover, we shared our expression of respect, sympathy, and love of Stacie to her mom, dad, sister, and the rest of her loved ones.

Book of D: Living Large

Whether you believe that "living large" means being able to afford lavish things, living off the government dole for months or years (because "you lazy, dude!"), or as the Urban Dictionary explains: ". . . being able to have a bigger shoe collection than most women," there is a lot to contemplate. For me, living large doesn't necessarily mean that you are filthy rich or that you have things you may not have had as a child; it encompasses the ability to afford to do things and buy things you could not when you were younger. Think of it this way, it is younger you against older you; no one else is involved (not even your parents or guardians and such). The act of living large is living a better life for yourself, so you are never dependent on anyone else. I started thinking about the meaning of "living large" while I perused through some online stores in hopes of buying a holiday cardigan (with a zipper) for work. I came across a website, and I loved their logo: the shaka, which is the hand sign for hang loosethat sold clothing. 

At first, I thought the website,  Living Large, was going to be a cyber meditation venue - but it was not, and it was indeed for clothes. The algorithm was spot-on for what I was shopping for: clothes. Or as the tech industry would say, the algorithm is correct when it delivers a tangible competitive advantage. Or was it really correct because the kind of clothing the webstore offered is not what I would normally purchase for work (lol), but it did get me to take a breather from online shopping, so I could be more present while my spouse's family is here visiting us for the weekend. Man, that was an all out kind of a tangent right there was it not? Perhaps living large should include having your mental faculties in check and not being a couple of beers short of a six-pack. LOL. Another damn tangent. 

Book of D: Holding Space

"Holding space" is a trendy phrase these days . . . but what does it mean? The definition of holding space is to be present with someone, without judgment. It means selflessly lending your ears and heart without motive or reciprocal expectations. Moreover, holding space entails the use of both empathy and compassion. 

With that said, my university division came together late Tuesday afternoon to "hold space" together at the Student Activity Center (SAC) after finding out that our colleague, Stacie, had died. I was unable to join them. I was off that day. Actually, I took vacation to perform my civic duties on both Monday and Tuesday as an election worker. I wanted to take an early leave from working the elections upon hearing that my colleague had died. The location I had been assigned to monitor (7 am to 7 pm) was not as busy as it had been in the morning. The other election workers there said I should leave and that they would be okay if I left - besides, they added, the polls weren't due to close for a couple more hours and voter turn-out was slowing down a little. I decided to stay and monitor my assigned voting location. One, it was my honor to be there as a certified election worker as I had taken the required courses, primers, and refreshers; and two, staying there would keep me busy and grounded. I texted my boss, Corey, and told him that I wish I could have been on campus to "share space" with our division. He said, "me, too." It's still so surreal that we lost Stacie. She had so much going for her. But, isn't that when life decides to cash in its chips: when you finally have your shit together? Yeah, that's a rhetorical question!

Book of D: Exasperated: WTF, Uvalde

While the survivors and surviving families of the Robb Elementary School victims and other gun control advocates worked diligently for months to try to create sound gun reform in Texas - which weighed heavily on changing governors, 60% of the Uvalde voters turned a blind eye, went rogue, and voted red. How heartbreakingly disappointing that more than 60% of the vote in Uvalde County went for Abbott.

Per Einstein's famous quote, insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. This adage is so true, and it would be indicative of Uvalde county, as a whole, if every single resident had voted to re-elect Abbott; however, 40% of the voters cast their choice and said "no" to Abbott. The 60% of Uvalde residents who voted for no change, well, they are the ones who are insane. I hope the 60% never has to experience the slaughter of their loved ones or of themselves because Texas can't get their shit together when it comes to guns. Although I never had children, I stand proudly as a member of Moms Demand Action. My thoughts and continued prayers and good karma continues for the victims and loved ones of the 19 children and two teachers who were killed by a lone gunman on May 24, 2022. My wish is that one day, they will get justice by way of gun control, or firearms regulation, in the state of Texas and on the federal level. 

Book of D: Elections and Death

Those damn elections! Well, I wasn't holding my breath that Beto would beat Greggy, but I was hoping my gut feelings were wrong and that maybe this would be the year Texas would smarten up and elect another democratic governor. The usual Texas metropolitan areas (Austin, Dallas, El Paso, Houston, and San Antonio) voted for Beto, but it just wasn't enough in the end.

The newest and latest republican-led plundering and pillaging of voting boundaries through district manipulation (a.k.a. gerrymandering) has not been kind to Texas Democrats. Those fucking republicans are vile. Unfortunately, the  rural areas are just too darn antiquated and ancient with their views and keep voting republican. Maybe next time, Beto. I was excited about Beto - as much as I was when Wendy Davis ran for Texas governor in 2014. It's 'whatevs,' Texas right-wing thugs. Davis is still and always will be a badass. She would have made an excellent governor; just like Ann Richards. I will always remember Davis's 13-hour filibuster. WOW! As for Beto, perhaps Texas is just not worthy of someone like him.

The part of today's post title about "death" does not at all have to do with the fact that O'Rourke lost to Abbott. You see, this late afternoon, the university where I work sent out an email to our division letting us know that one of our colleagues had passed away earlier in the day. My friend and colleague, Stacie Smith, passed away today, Tuesday, Nov. 8th, following complications from surgery.

Stacie's sudden death put things in perspective: although the mid-term elections were important, not just for Texas, life holds and will always hold more value. Stacie's death was a reminder of how life can change in an instant. I was in shock to say the least, and so saddened by the news. Stacie was the University counselor for the student population. Despite her position mostly being to serve students, it was not surprising that every now and then, several of us (staff, faculty, etc.) would don her doorway for banter that would eventually turn into questions or sharing of feelings (i.e. counseling). Stacie always tried to make time for people. Her and I were working with the counseling and psychology graduate programs to establish a UTPB Counseling Center next January 2023. Stacie and I were developing plans and prepping for the Center by getting familiar with the Titanium software and other components that would be essential. On a personal note,

Stacie helped me a lot when I was in the counseling program by posing mental health scenarios and asking questions that would help me better learn the different modalities of counseling and the DSM 5 (our bible). Moreover, she helped me make sense when the program head and I were at odds with one another, and Stacie was key in helping me decide to stay in the program when I was nearing my final academic year. Stacie went to bat for me when the program head was being difficult with me, and she put in a good word for me to said program head when she saw how dedicated and hard working I was being as a practicum student. Poor Stacie, she had just bought her first house last year. She will be sorely missed. Per my communication with my sisters, whom I shared the news of Stacie's sudden demise, I stated that the counseling program will be working even more diligently towards creating the much-needed counseling center. There are five of us working on this (including the program head and Stacie), and we were just talking about, before Stacie took medical leave, possible names for the center. I hope it gets named after Stacie. UTPB has named other centers on campus after ppl who didn't really deserve it, except they had lots of $$$ donor mula. 🙂 IMO, Stacie is deserving of a center bearing her name, and I can say that sans bias. Things weren't always golden with rainbows and unicorns between Stacie and me; we most certainly did not have a perfect relationship. Our association was at times muddled . . . we had our ups and downs. There were times that we disagreed - but never in a disrespectful or billigernt manner. I liked knowing where she stood on certain issues. Stacie told me she respected how I stood up for myself and what I believed in. That, my readers, is mutual respect, and I will miss that because there is so little mutual-respect in this quirky world these days. My word, how I will indeed miss my friend and colleague. The news was devastating to many of us - for me especially. I will hurt knowing she will no longer be just four floors away from seeing her friendly but often times tired face. She will no longer be just four floors away from bidding a quick hello - as she was often in a hurry - for obvious reasons. She will no longer be just four floors away for several of us to seek much-needed advice or in need of hearing, "it's gonna be okay." Rest in peace, Stacie.

Book of D: Higher Ed Pedagogy & Life Lessons via Lesbian Movies

I love watching movies. Whenever I want to self-indulge, I turn to old movies. I love em all . . . period pieces, black and white, foreign, war time, maritime - and subtitles are wonderful. I belong to the TCM Wine Club – Pairing Wine and Movies. I do more watching than I do drinking, which is good, I guess. Haha. I am a firm believer that regardless of a person's age (mostly a self-reference), the person should be cultured in many genres and forms of life and entertainment. For example with music, I was born in the late 60s, but it doesn't mean I should only be versed in music of my generation. Moreover, I should know music that pre-dates me. I am fortunate in that regard, having been the youngest in a family of eight (mom, dad, one brother, and four sisters). They each introduced me to different types of music and musicians. The same goes for movies, novels, comics, and even food: my family members were my first influencers. I like to think I have acquired a vast wealth of knowledge not just through my family, but through the different people I have met, jobs I have held, and the many travels and adventures I have partaken of in my lifetime. It would be really wonderful if I could take all of that knowledge and create a classroom where I could share and teach. More distinctly, I would love to teach others about the LGBTQ community through movies. Yes, through movies. I would love to share the movies as I saw them and was able to compare (and contrast) them to my own life. It would be invigorating to share how I took the different meanings and lessons from each movie and explain how I was able to learn from each one. I will list them, but I will not explain why - that is for another post. 

Some of the lesbian-inspired movies I would include in my course: 

Another Country (1984), Desert Hearts (1985), Maurice (1987), Fried Green Tomatoes (1991), The Incredibly True Adventures of Two Girls in Love (1995), Bound (1996), Fire (1996), Chasing Amy (1997), Gia (1998), High Art (1998), Lost and Delirious (2001), Kissing Jessica Stein (2001), My Summer of Love (2004), Saving Face (2004), Imagine Me & You (2005), I Can’t Think Straight (2008), Elena Undone (2010), Blue is the Warmest Color (2013), Carol (2015), Reaching for the Moon (2013), Tru Love (2013), Margarita With a Straw (2014), Jenny’s Wedding (2015), Duck Butter (2018), Lizzie (2018), Tell It to the Bees (2019), Ammonite (2020) . . . .

These are just a few lesbian-themed movies with which I would first begin the course. My list of LGBTQ movies is extensive, so if I were to include more than just the lesbian movies, the class would be neverending - to say the least. My preference is mostly because of my own personal association with lesbian matters (and affairs of the heart and mind, if you will). 

However, if I did have to pick one LGBT, non-lesbian movie, it would have to be Another Country (1984). I will explain, why I would include this movie in my course - in another post, as I stated previously.

So . . .  to each one of these films, I dedicate a special part of me that will never be lost or given away because of their paramount, cardinal meaning and inspiration. Memories deeply instilled of the different nuances of what love once meant to me and what it has come to mean at this juncture of my life.