Where In the World Am I From?

*Sigh*

There's something that has been on my mind for years now but has been really bugging me recently. Ever since I was a kid and I started school, I have been hyper-aware that my last name is not very common in the U.S. My schools never had any other students with my same last name unless they were my siblings. This was, apparently, also the case for hospitals because once when my mom went to a hospital in L.A. and someone took her name to check her in, they immediately felt the need to call a nurse who had the same last name and was shocked to meet someone else with the same surname. She very briefly interviewed  my mom about her last name and exchanged phone numbers with her. This was probably not standard hospital procedure, but it goes to show how uncommon we are in the U.S. And we're even more uncommon here in Korea. I wouldn't be surprised if I'm the only one in the entire peninsula. It's a very lonely feeling. 

Anyway, I know that my family is from Mexico and my dad, specifically, is from  Michoacán . I've been there before. It's a beautiful place. But that's not where my family name comes from. It's not an indigenous American name. It's a Spanish name. That much is obvious to me. I do, as most other Mexican people, have Spanish blood in me. I have done some research throughout the years, and found that there's even a valley in Spain called Valle de Tena. The problem is that I can't, for the life of me, find out what the name means. What's the etymology of the name? Who named that valley so? Why? I can't remember where it was that I found this, but I think I remember "Tena" translating over to "tent". So in essence, Valle de Tena would translate to "Valley of the Tents". The problem is that I can't remember where I got that from and I can't find it on the internet anymore. 

There's another thing that I wonder about. It seems that during the Middle Ages, this valley in the Spanish  Pyrénées was swamped by "rebels" who were trying to escape Romanization (Christianity). This included many Muslim people. So then, is there a possibility that Tena is an Arabic word? How do you say "tent" in Arabic? Had the valley already been named by the time the Moors got there?

To bring it back to more recent times, I believe the first Tena went to the Americas in the early 1700's. I imagine it must have been a man named Manuel Tena because just about every Tena family in North America has a couple of Manuel men in it. I, myself, am no exception. My youngest brother is Manuel, my dad is Manuel, my grandfather is Manuel, and I imagine it goes on and on. I see a lot of Manuel Tenas on the internet whenever I google. 

If you have absolutely no interest in genealogy, then this blog probably just bored the living hell out of you. Sorry. lol. They're just thoughts that I randomly have to put down in writing because I don't want to forget them. I think that in all of the travel plans that I have, I'm going to have to include a trip to Michoacan, Mexico so that I can ask to look through official government archives and piece together my family tree. I also have plans of living in Spain for a couple of years. So if that goes as planned, I will have to do more research into the etymology of my family name while I'm there, cuz it's driving me nuts!!

Street Cred

As educators, there comes a time when we realize that no matter how good we may be at teaching, it's all to no avail if the students refuse to pay attention. It is exactly then that we learn we must earn our place as teachers to these kids.

But how do we prove ourselves? Well, I could sit there and explain to them that I've been working with kids for the last 10 years and that I have my degree in English and blah, blah, blah, but it would all go right over their heads and they wouldn't care about any of it. So what do we do? Sometimes we have to show them our softer sides. Sometimes we have to show that we're just as rough and tough as they are... And yet other times, we have to prove to them that we can be just as gross as they are. Especially when talking about 9 year-old kids.

Too Afraid to Love You

I know the title sounds super melodramatic and mooshy, but I titled it so because that's the name of the song I'm blogging about today.

No, I'm not going through some sort of emotional drama in which I'm too afraid to open my heart up to someone. And no, I'm not ranting about a lover who recently dumped me. I just wanted to briefly blog about this song because my only experience with it has been while I've been here in Korea and it really does get on my nerves (the song). lol.

I actually wanted to blog about this song because I first heard it about a year ago and I haven't heard it ever since. Not until today when I was listening to Jango at work. It came up and I remembered how much I hate this stupid song. Don't get me wrong, I think the lyrics and the music are great! And I really like the Black Keys. What I hate about this stupid song is the overall sentiment of it. It's so pathetic. Why have I waited a year after I first heard the song to rant about it? Well, I'm not entirely sure. I think it might have something to do with my upcoming birthday and the things that I know I always wanted to say but I never did. I'm turning 30 in a couple of weeks and I feel like I have wasted a lot of time trying to be appropriate and polite and dignified. That may not sound right to most of you who know me because it probably seems like I usually say exactly what I want to say whenever I want to say it, but believe me, there's still a lot of filtering that goes on in my head before I let words fly out of my face.

Anyway, why do I think this song is so pathetic? Well, the way I see it, this song is about a man who feels stuck. A man who IS stuck. Stuck working and fretting over absolutely nothing. He knows there are great opportunities out there but he's too busy being afraid to actually go out and get them. He wants to find love and be with someone, he even meets a great girl who he really seems to like, but he refuses to put his fears aside and just go for it. It's all so pathetic. I've heard it before. "I've been hurt before. I don't want to get hurt again, so I'm not gonna let myself get too emotionally involved. I like you and I really feel like I could love you, but... Oh, I don't want to put myself out there, so instead I'm gonna end it."

Well, maybe I haven't heard the last part so clearly worded, but it's not too hard to tell sometimes.

It bothers me to hear that sometimes because I think it's unfair and stupid to lay on that kind of emotional baggage on someone who you have no idea if he/she is a good person or not. Listen, I've been screwed over quite a few times myself. It hasn't been fun. It hurt like a b*tch. But really, why should I shut every other guy out when he could very well be great? It's hard at first right after having your heart broken, but it gets better if you allow it to get better. If you go through your entire life with that "I'm too afraid to love you" mentality, when is it that you're supposed to find this "pair" that you wish you could be a part of? Can someone explain the rationality in that? I know this song is not about rationality, and I'm a pretty emotional person myself (seriously), but come on! Even I can put aside emotions sometimes to think rationally about a situation before I bring my emotions back in again. And sometimes the most rational thing to do is to just follow your emotions and see where it takes you.

I'm not in any way saying that we should be reckless with our hearts and place trust in whoever shows up. No, no! That's not what I'm saying. What I AM saying is that we also can't assume that every person we meet is going to be a jerk. Every person we meet is not going to fit that idea of what they're all like. "They're all the same!" No, they're not. Stop telling yourself that they are because what you end up doing then is formulating a self-fulfilling prophesy. You end up attracting that which you tell yourself you despise and never want to have anything to do with. Believe me, I've done it myself before. I'm not just talking out of my butt. I speak from experience.

Stranger Danger? Nah! More Like Warm Fuzzies.

Well, it's been a few weeks since I came back from my trip to Taiwan and it has been interesting, if nothing else.

Now, before I continue with my story for tonight, I have to say that there's another blog coming soon about the actual trip to Taiwan. I know I posted one before, but it really just concentrated on my accident more than anything else and I don't want to give the impression that I had a bad time while I was there. So, "Taiwan: Parte Dos" is coming soon to a computer monitor near you...

Anyway, as I was saying, the last few weeks have been interesting despite the fact that I haven't been able to do very much of anything. Mainly because I have witnessed some serious kindness from the people who surround me; not just my friends, but also people who I have never met before or have only seen in passing. Strangers, really. I don't want to paint a rosy picture and say that everything is always perfect. I think that people who refuse to accept that there is always a good side and a bad side to everything are really just kidding themselves. However, people have really been making a good impression on me lately and I think I'm beginning to understand why...

I HAVE A MAJOR PROBLEM ADMITTING THAT SOMETIMES I NEED HELP.

Does that sound at all like me? I never really thought of this as a problem because I never really had to think about it. With the exception of moving from one home to another, dealing with daddy issues (shout-out to Scotty and Matt! thanks for all the help!), and other random little things, I've dealt with and figured out most things on my own like a big girl. Usually the hard way. These last few weeks, however, have been very different. I haven't been able to walk, except with the use of my crutches, and I haven't been able to carry things either because my hands are preoccupied with the crutches. This means that I have been EXTREMELY dependent on others for just about everything. It made me, and continues to make me, uncomfortable. If there's anything that I really hate in this world, it's the sight of a helpless woman. Not helpless because she really can't do things herself, but because she refuses to try to do things on her own. Maybe it's very judgmental of me, but that's how I feel. It's how I was brought up. God gave you two hands: one to help yourself and another one to help others. It's also my "survival of the fittest" mentality, I think. Let's face it, I wasn't exactly born with a silver spoon in my mouth. I'm from East L.A. and was raised in South Central and Pacoima. If you can't take care of yourself there and figure out a way to lift yourself up, then there's really not much hope for you or your offspring.

Which reminds me, I'd like to take a moment here to go off on a slight tangent. I have been told by a few people throughout the last 15 months I've been in Korea, that I have a permanent "angry" expression on my face. lol. It used to surprise me at first, but I've gotten a little more used to the comments by now. My explanation for my expression is this: People with benevolent faces don't always make it home in one piece on the walk back from school in the ghetto. I learned that lesson well in adolescence. Pacoima Middle School and San Fernando High, you taught me many things. At any rate, I'm trying to iron out the "intimidating" frown. Don't let it scare you away. :)

Anyway, back to my main topic. People, for the most part, have been AMAZINGLY WONDERFUL to me the last few weeks. I wasn't sure what I was gonna do when the doctor forbade me to walk, but I have had a constant train of people calling and coming over to help me do everything like cooking for me, washing my dishes, sweeping my floors, taking out my trash, going to the bank for me, going to the market for me, fluffing my pillow, picking up the other pillow that fell behind my bed, etc., etc., etc. Why did I really need all that help, because I also bruised my ribs pretty freakin' badly and it hurt like a motherf*cker to move my torso.

And that was just in my home life! My work life has been amazing, too! With the exception of a battle that I had with my boss about paid illness/injury time that I was entitled to according to my contract (and that he refused to give me in the end) (*raspberries*), my co-workers and students have been truly awesome. They've set it up for me so that my desk is the closest to the door and my classes are taught in the closest classroom to the teacher's room. My co-workers have been willingly helping me whenever they can and the kids have been reporting to the office at the beginning of each class to help me carry my books, pens, laptop, you name it! I've been getting spoiled!

Last week, I finally decided that I was done taking my pain killers and that I was going to try to move around a little more. Nothing major, just little things like going to the coffee shop next door or to the convenience store on the first floor of my apartment building. Random people who I've never met have been stopping to try to help me with whatever they can. They open doors, hold the elevator, they extend their arms out to help me down the steps... That one got to me. A little old lady saw me trying to get down the two steps at the front of my school's building and she stretched out her arm and helped me down. I almost started to cry. Not because I was sad or frustrated, but because it was such a nice thing of her to do. It's something that I would've offered to do for an older person on any other day, but she turned it around on me and helped me down. She looked at me with the most concerned face and said something in Korean. She was obviously asking me what had happened, and all I could say was, "Aigo!", which kinda translates to "Oh, my!" or "Oops!" This made her smile a little, she said something else, I said thank you, and we parted ways. Same thing with the owners of the convenience store downstairs. I hobbled in, they saw me, proceeded to carry everything that I had was picking out, and then they refused to let me carry the bag back upstairs to my apartment. The wife came with me and put the bags down just inside my apartment entrance. She did this two days ago and she did it again today. We had a nice conversation, all in Korean, the whole way up today. She asked me what had happened, I told her I was in a traffic accident. She asked me if my armpits were tired from the crutches, I laughed and said yes. She asked me if I had eaten yet, I told her I was ordering chicken from Pelicana in a little while. She looked surprised at that and asked me if the people that take the phone orders speak English, so I said that I speak just enough Korean to be able to order food and have it delivered to my apartment. She laughed, put my groceries down inside my apartment again, and bid me goodnight.

I guess what I'm trying to get at with all of this is that I had forgotten one major part of my "survival of the fittest" mentality. That is, not only must we be able to take care of ourselves, but we must also surround ourselves with good people and inspire them to want to take care of us in the undesired event that we may actually need it. We need to be able to recognize that other people know that they were given two hands also, one to to help themselves, and the other to help other people. Korea, you continue to teach me many things.

<3

An Important Message...

“The sacred rights of mankind are not to be rummaged for among old parchments or musty records. They are written, as with a sunbeam, in the whole volume of human nature, by the Hand of Divinity itself, and can never be erased or obscured by mortal power.”

― Alexander Hamilton

We Are Young and We Are Stupid: Taiwan for New Year 2012!

I've been in Korea for 14 months now and I have decided that the time for me to really get out, see the world, and see what I'm made of, is now. It was with that in mind that I decided that I wanted to travel around Asia as much as possible while I'm here. Since I only get a couple of short breaks per year, I planned out an awesome trip to Taiwan. None of my fiends here in Daejeon were able to go with me this time around as they already had their own travel plans or were staying put for New Year's, so I decided to go by myself. As the day of the trip drew nearer, one of my friends from Seoul said that he was gonna be going to Taiwan also and that we should hang out while we were there. My solo trip had just turned into treking around a foreign island nation with a buddy which I actually didn't mind a bit because, let's face it, I'm a talker. Talking to myself gets pretty boring pretty fast. I was also scheduled to meet up with my friend Jimmy who used to live in Daejeon but is now living in Taipei, so that promised to be good.

When I got to Taiwan, I contacted my friend Jose to let him know that I was there and coordinate our meeting in Kenting, which is on the southern tip of Taiwan. We had a good first day in Taiwan as we wandered around the night market and ate everything (or almost everything) in sight. The next day, I got up and had an awesome breakfast at the hotel. I was staying at the Caesar Park, which is the first 5 star hotel I've ever stayed at, so it was a good morning meal. I met Jose on the beach right around noon and we left to go rent scooters and explore the rest of the southern shore...

That's when our entire trip turned upside down.

Not long after we rented the scooters, we were driving down the main road in Kenting and I got into a pretty bad accident, although I didn't really realize it at the time. I'm not gonna go into the details of how the accident happened because it's not a story I wish to recount or remember. My official story, for the purposes of making light of the situation, goes as follows:

"I was cruising on a Harley along the southern coast of Taiwan when a mama duck waddled onto the road with her line of ducklings trailing behind. I, trying to save the baby ducks and their mommy, swerved out of the way and subsequently fell off a cliff onto jagged rocks... Fortunately I seem to be made of tough stuff and I managed to elude death."

Obviously, it's up to you if you want to believe any of that, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it! lol.

Anyway, I'm really glad that my friend was there because I have no idea what I would've done if he weren't there. He did not leave my side the entire time and was really good at keeping me calm and focused. He even went out later that night and got me a Happy Meal from McDonald's to try to make me feel better. It did. :)

There was also a really nice couple who stopped when the accident happened. They were super awesome and helped us a lot with the entire process of translating everything, as neither Jose or I speak Chinese. They even gave Jose their phone number in case we needed them for anything after they were gone. As it turns out, we did need them again later to help clear up more of the process of the damages done to property and they went out of their way to make phone calls and even drive back to where we were. As far as Good Samaritans go, they were pretty high up there on the "good" scale. I don't know if they believe in Heaven or not, but I think they have a well-deserved spot up there. Really, I can't say enough good things about them.

The whole ordeal took up the entire day, and that didn't even include hospital time because I refused to go for a couple of reasons.

A) I didn't know if I could trust Taiwanese hospitals, and

B) I really didn't feel very hurt at the moment.

It wasn't until later that night that I started to really feel the pain in my right knee, my left arm, and my ribs.

The EMTs that had attended to me earlier in the day said that nothing seemed to be broken, so I chucked it all off to soreness, bumps and bruises, and continued to be stubborn about not going to the hospital even though Jose, and later on in the trip, my friend Jimmy, kept begging me the entire time to go to the hospital. "What if something's broken?" All I could think of was, "Broken? I can't be broken! I don't have time to be broken! I'm only in Taiwan for 5 days! I've got things to do and people to see!" I kept telling them that I was fine and we should continue on our trip as if nothing had happened. Reluctantly, they obliged and we had an awesome few days in Taiwan. Taiwan was beautiful and I was glad that I didn't miss too much of it. We even got to see the countdown and fireworks show at Taipei 101! It was awesome!

That is, of course, until I got back home to Korea and I finally went to the hospital.

Total damage to my self:

- 2 fractures on my right knee

- Severely bruised ribs

- SEVERELY bruised ego.

All of this plus 6 weeks of recovery time, the outrageous medical expenses, and the cost of damages to property. Many lessons learned.

It sounds like a pretty shitty ordeal, but I have to remember something that I've heard my mom say before: "Pero lo paseada quien me lo quita?" *

=)

Special thanks go out to Samson and Nydia for being super nice and helping us out, to my friend Jimmy for showing us around Taipei, and of course to my friend Jose for helping a gimpy old lady throughout the entire trip. Muchas gracias, de todo corazon!!

*Lose translation from Spanish to English: "Who's gonna take away the trip/fun I already had?"

OH!! And thank you, too, to my friend Nadia who has been helping me out since I got back from the trip, and to her co-worker (my new friend) Alice for going with me and Nadia to the hospital here in Korea and translating everything for us.

Full Circle

So, if you have ever read my blog, you might already know that I am the first-generation American daughter to Mexican parents. My parents did not speak English when they first crossed the border into the U.S. and it took them a while to really become fluent. I, myself, learned English from a combination of watching Sesame Street, Mr. Roger's Neighborhood, and from going to an all-English kindergarten.

I remember coming home one day and excitedly telling my parents that I had learned how to say "ventana" and "puerta" in English. I yelled out "Door! Window!!" My parents were so proud. My dad immediately started telling all of his friends (they didn't speak English either) that his daughter was learning English very fast. He'd pull me outside when his friends would come over and ask, "A ver, Marisol, como se dice 'Cierra la puerta!'?" and I'd reply (in my best Gringa accent) "Close the door!" "Y como se dice 'Abre la ventana!'?" "Open the window!" He'd then look at his friends and they'd laugh and make "Oooh!" and "Aaah!" noises and slap his back good-humoredly.

Well, it seems that my days of showing off my ability to speak English are over and the time has come for me to pay the universe back for my good fortune. I had one of those "full circle" moments in my lowest elementary-level class today...



Life is amazing!