Home

assalamu alaikum,

Eid Sa'eed! Eid Mubarak!

To tell the truth, I didn't do much for Eid. The holiday isn't as fascinating and fun for me this year; probably because I don't have the little kids to pull me into the enthusiasm. I wasn't at home either; my parents left for the weekend, so I came to my sister's house.

Last night I fell asleep on her couch; we'd had visitors earlier so I was wearing my hijab and had a big chador nearby, which I pulled over myself sometime in the night. The temperature on that floor of the house dropped to 65 degrees. (The thermostat was set higher, but that floor never reaches that temperature close to the ground, where I fell asleep.)
So when I awoke, I was cold, cranky, and stiff. My knees screamed in pain when I stretched them out. My feet and toes were icy. I was mad for a good minute.

Then I thought about that.

Y'all, I cannot imagine being homeless at this time of year. If it was 65 where I was sleeping, it was 30 degrees outside. Ya Rahman.

My sister and I just had a conversation about it. She said, "well, they have newspapers. They find a way to get through."

Seriously? SERIOUSLY!? Newspapers? At below freezing? How do you sleep? How do you keep up the will to live?

I don't remember there being many homeless in Puerto Rico, in part because of the nice climate. It can feel chilly at night because the temp drops 10-25 degrees from the daytime highs (so from a high of 90, if it got down to 72 you felt it), but I know there were people who slept on the beach, or on the streets. But for the most part, I never saw people without homes. They always had family, or friends, or just a nice person with a place to sleep. I'm sure the homeless problem exists there as any other place in the world; it wasn't as visible and is never as acute. There, the problem would be obtaining food, but not exposure.

There isn't the same kind of backup here, where people need it. It makes me wonder what is there. And I'd better be careful, because that's the first step to action.



Heh. And another conversation we had made me think about the difference between the concept of home and family as we get older.

Y'all know I spent some time in Puerto Rico right after I graduated college, and it changed my life. I want to get my nursing degree in part so I can go back to the island and know that I'll get a job- the VA always needs nurses, and that's a FEDERAL bureau that won't go broke- and live there. Yes, in Puerto Rico. (Don't get me started on the husband options there. That isn't a part of my plan. Allah is the point for that particular project.)

Lo these many years later, I still have friends from the islands calling me; their families ask about me. And this points to a major difference in families between there and here. Mainly, that as in most parts of the world, in Puerto Rico multigenerational families are a matter of course. I mean, I did have single friends who had their own rooms or apartments, but they were a rarity, and most of them lived in the same city or region as their parents, grandparents, etc.

I remember during Hurricane Jeanne going to Humacao with my then-roomate to visit her mom and grandmother; it was beautiful, wild country, and the whole family gathered to eat from the grill, since the electricity and gas were off. Beautiful.
So I knew when I came back that I definitely like that idea of multigenerational life, and that I don't mind living that way. Add to that, that I found that Islam supports parents and family life, and I could see myself eventually living that way forever.

My parents and sibs don't agree.

My sister made the remark during conversation that, "Our father exists so that we will leave the house. I cannot live in the same house as he does!" And that's true; I remember her saying when she bought her house that she could not live with our father. And then she said that the reason I could was probably because we don't talk much. And that's true as well. If I don't have something to say, then I... don't have anything to say, beyond courtesy. So yes, I guess that works. On the other hand, I know that my parents would prefer me to live on my own (but aren't going to pay for me to do so, which is why I live at home just now).

And I don't want to live on my own ever again. Been there, done that, hated the goody bag. Don't want to live with strangers, either. And I'm lucky in that I don't have to; my parents tolerate my living with them. Sometimes there's not much between toleration and enjoyment, and sometimes there's a gulf of understanding between the two.

I've had men who were wife-searching ask me, 'Would you mind if we lived with my parents? Or if my parents lived with us?' and the whole question blew my mind, because the LAST thing my parents would ever WANT to do is to live with my household, or one of my siblings'. This is clear in my mind. And I welcome the idea that they would do so. The difference in our attitudes is one I accept, but it makes me sad.

What do you think?


peace
twennytwo

girl that i was

peace,

Sometime last month, I should've noted, was my fourth year blogging. Alhamdulillah.

I just went back and read some of those early posts.

Wow.

What I didn't know. About Islam. About the world. About what I'd learn and who I'd meet.

Anyway, thanks for hanging around.

peace,
TwennyTwo

Mph.

I'm already sogged out from working two jobs. Oooooweee, I cannot wait until June, when I'll be doing PB full-time only until something better shows up. As a matter of fact, I'm supposed to be getting ready for work now, but y'all know how this goes.

Met up incidentally with the Irish-Rican Bustop Cutie last night, and I have to say this: dude can write some serious stories. Of course, every diamond needs polishing and shaping before it sparkles. Keep it up, you're on the way.

('Course, one or two of those suckas had my eyes buggin out of my head there. WARN somebody when she's about to read those! They deserve an audience. Ok, maybe not. I hope you get what I'm saying, David.)

Still looking at au pair jobs. There's one that looks really promising, it's a Muslim family in Norway. Yes, Norway. What language is spoken in Norway? Wouldn't it be great if I could take care of some great muslim kids and stay in the land of midnight sun (and, alternately, endless night) and come back speaking a whole 'nother language? Hecky yeah. I hope they pick me. But I also hope they can pay me enough to where I can stay. And I hope I get the chance to travel.

Methinks I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'm really just forestalling getting ready for work. Three days of cash, but already I'm starting to dread the shifts. There has GOT to be a great-paying job out there that lets me work in what I'm truly interested in; waitressing is the pits.

**Yo, I take back 50% of the bad things I've said about the current president of the USA. He finally got a clue, met with Abbas, and is actually GIVING MONEY TO THE PLA FOR A CHANGE! YES! I don't know what blessing got that to happen but I'm thankful. Ok, TRK, I'm ready to start hearing the not-so-great side of all this. But seriously, for the exective head of this place to realise there's another side to the Israeli conflict is just... refreshing! Ooooooweeee!**

feel peace, feel love.
TwennyTwo

Saturday again

Did some nice Saturday stuff, which is making me bummed that I have to go to work.
Although work makes it all possible. Ah, me, can I just get a job that I actually love AND that pays? It seems that's the problem of the century.

Anyhow, when I leave portareeco, ima be in a serious depression over the loss of Suhey, who is my equivalent of a hairdresser here. Since my hair is now locked (and shoulder length for those who wanted to know), I do it all pretty much myself. But that meant that I lost the whole saturdy-go-get-y'hair-did routine, and the women who are there with me and all the opinions and laughter to go with it. So now my regular appt is with Suhey in Hato Rey, who keeps my nails on point and has me cracking up at the same time.

Which brings me to the other Saturday thing I did; went to go see Beauty Shop at Plaza. I loved it! It reminded me of what I'm missing when I don't have a black community around me. It brought back some of my fave music memories (who else knows that the song that fine man was playing is called "Knocks Me Off My Feet" by the famous Stevie Wonder?) and gave me the opportunity to say, more than once, "DAAAAAMN, Baby is FINE!"

I'm a major fan of Djimon Honsou (I hope I spelled it correctly), and he was all OVER that screen! You GO boy! Only thing, he's looking much thinner since In America... still beautiful though. Anyone know if he's married?? He's got to be a fascinating conversationalist, imagine. Now THAT is a fantasy- having a lunch with Djimon Honsou... boy...


Anyway. Gotta go or I really WILL be late even after leaving an HOUR ahead of time. The things I do for cash.

p.e.a.c.e.

What a difference a day makes

Mmmmmmmmmm. Today is not the same as day'fo'yesterdy.

After retrieving my acceptance letter from the office where Sapientis has been holding it hostage I don't even know how long, I find that I need to send $500, non-refundable, to CU in order for them to hold my place.


Bout an hour later I found out I actually have to pay taxes (as opposed to getting a refund) for the first time in my life ever ever ever. Boy what a time for that particularly unopportune surprise.

The upshot is that God will allow me to find about $800 before next Friday, or I won't be going to my dream skool.

*SIGH* I'm struggling but ima keep the faith! If it is for me, I will have it! And if it isn't, I'll receive peace about the whole thing. I need to stay in touch with reality on this. I can feel my stress level up. I wish I had some access to summa' dat sexual healing my man Marvin sings about, but then... nah, don't need any other complications in my life. Right? Right? I keep telling myself this. Freedom is good. A good man is hard to find. And a hard man.... right, ahem, I was saying...


On another note-
I have a coupla students who haven't really shown their faces in my classroom since January. One of them yesterday had the nerve, I mean, the bald-faced temerity, to drag his mama up to the school. Why? you ask. Why, so that his mother could beg me to give the child a 'special' project so he could pass into high school.

This is a student who, aside from his non-attendance, has 'tried' to cuss me several times, has threatened me, and, mind you, is taking 8th grade English when he's enrolled in another grade. This child has earned no favors from me, but what really kicked it was that he literally hadn't shown his nose hairs in my classroom in three months! And was sitting there with some heavy attitude.
I told his mama to her face that it wouldn't be ethical for me to help her wayward, hardheaded child again, since the terms of the agreement I actually made with him last semester included his daily attendance this semester. She tried for the sympathy, telling me that she didn't want to have to pay for more than one class this summer, but as far as I'm concerned, if she were that worried she'd have made sure Junior's behind was warming his seat and not sassing me.

I'm still indignant over that mess. I mean, where do people get off? I love teaching if only because it really helps me understand the roots of the social problems around here.

I was gonna watch be cool, but I feel so stressed I think I might go curl up with a good book instead. I haven't had a Fridy off in a while, so I should take advantage. Especially since PB took advantage of me again and gave me Sat and Sun worknights. I shouldn't complain, and I wouldn't if I weren't so impossibly tired.


I've complained a lot lately so I'll be out with a shout to my girls Tamika, Riri, and SharonSmiley and to Toto for enduring more than this over their cell phones. MUCH LOVE LADIES!

tacatin tacato, este cuento se acabo!

Tis Official...

... i was accepted to the Mailman School at Columbia!


AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!


I'm excited! Euphoric. Columbia has been my dream school for a while now, and I wasn't sure they'd look at my application again after I didn't go two years ago... first step in the master plan is complete. Now I just have to get this degree, complete my MSN/CNM, and get some bizness-administration experience so I can start up my clinic. THAT is really the point in all this, and the reason why I'm looking at being in school what feels like fuh-EVAH...

Can't WAIT to live in NYC even though ima miss portareeco like none other. Oooh the bittersweetness of it all.

Still I can't front like all is decided. I haven't decided whether to defer a year ( financial aid in these times being what it is) or just take the plunge. My fam is decidedly NOT as enthusiastic as I am, but then, everybody was wanting me to come back south of the Mason-Dixon. All in good time. I still don't know what Emory has decided.

Which makes it even harder to finesse the ending of this year as I know I'm supposed to. I have to face the music here. La directora no esta feliz conmigo, por todas las depresiones que he pasado en los ultimos dos meses. It all boils down to the fact that i LOATHE the whole class-prep/planification processes here, and she's pushing them big time. And the woman is quite formidable. I have to say I'm a lil intimidated by the thought of going up to her and prostrating myself in order for her to understand what's been going on.

Still, she is only a woman and God is God. That doesn't really matter much anymore.

Wow, I'm up to five friends on friendster y to'o (love to David y Kabo for the expression)...

I've decided Porfirio has to go. I didn't go out with him due to the fact that work obligations are punishing enough right now... but I've been avoiding it anyways cuz somewhere deep in my head i know he ain't right. And unlike Toto, I cannot change into one of those user chickees who let dudes wine and dine when I KNOW he ain't goin' no further. Y no hay mas oportunidades. La gente se portan como que una oportunidad es algo que yo les debo. Al contrario, acceso a mi persona esta RESTRINGIDA! And I like it like that! Y que!

p.e.a.c.e.

they're BAAAAAAAAAACKKKKK!!!

SOPRANOS IS COMING BACK TONIGHT!
GET READY!!


Damn, makes me reminisce for the good ole days in the Gut dungeon with the VMS(S)K crew, cokes, wings, and cheesy bread. Les extrano tanto...Happy late birthday to V, by the way...a whole quarter centr'y, but you only look 16 (lol)! Love ya!

Self Challenge Update:
Tis official. The weekends are wrecking me.

Thursday and Friday, I was good: when I got home, I went to get my mail (the office is like a 10 min walk away), and then extended the walk to the half-hour cardio exercise like a good girl. So I actually did hit my exercise goals for the week. I even did my ab work out on my roof extension/terrace/porch/thingy. THAT is a superior way to do situps; the beautiful blue sky egging me on and drawing out stress at the same time.

Yesterday, I started out well when my sister Toto called me at 7AM.

**this was 6 am in her own time zone. Let it be known that she is NEVER up this early on weekends except when I haven't slept the whole week and she wants to call me, the little witch. Good thing she is my heart or she'd be in for it :o) **


Since I was already awake after that, I decided to be virtuous and walk to the Amigo grocery store, a 3 and a half mile trek. On the way, I saw this gorgeous 1964 IMPALA in Mint Condition. I was floored. It was incredible. I wasn't so pleased, however, when it's owner decided that since I liked the car, I must want to flirt with him (the guy was old enough to have bought the car when it was brand new, hello). That was interesting to say the least. I went, did my shopping, and got back to my house by 11AM. I settled down to chores and whatnot, thinking that today was gonna be an awesome Challenge day...

...however, then my Muslim girlfriend Abira (seriously, her family is the only other muslim family I know here) called to invite me to the mall and movies (You Got Served: loved it for the dancin', plot coulda been worse). I took her up on it, since I haven't seen her or her kids in like a month. What she didn't say was that we were going to eat at Pizza Hut. Dammit!

And then, this morning's breakfast was cookies and water. Ohhhh yeah, strong diet food... like I said, the weekends are wrecking me. I think I need to build a routine. I was like that in school, too; I was one of those women who was in every group on campus at one point, because the one semester where I din't do nothin' just to please my parents, I got my lowest gpa ever (a 2.3 if you have to know). Scheduling things tightly keeps me on track. Having free time just futz's me up. Oh well. I can only move forward. Tomorrow starts Challenge Week Two. I can do this!

by any means necessary

Today marks the 39th anniversary of the slaying of El Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, popularly known as Malcom X. Just a fact.

This week was a tiring one, so I didn't get as much sleep as I wanted. Lucky me, I also had 2 evaluations, one for the public school where I work, and another for Sapientis. Well Hoo-ray.

AAAND if that weren't enough, the jehovah witnesses came by my door today. Yes, on a saturday. So I decided to give as good as I got. I mean, if you're willing to preach your beliefs uninvited to the unconcerned, then you should at least be willing to hear the beliefs from which you are trying to convince the "ignorant".

I proceeded to read, from my own Bible, every scripture that the man of the couple quoted to me. I then supported my own view of what they said from both the Bible and the Qur'an. MAN, ALL THOSE SUNDAY SCHOOL SCRIPTURE RECITALS FINALLY CAME IN HANDY!!! I love beating that kind of missionary at their own game. Really. If I want to know about Jehovah's Witnesses, or any other religious group for that matter, I'll ask. That's how I found out more about Islam. I have to say this: I've found it true (at least in the USA) that we have no compulsion about the deen.

aiight, more procrastinating to do. ttys.

say anything.

I. Hate. Lesson. Plans. Hate'emhate'mhate'm.

There, got that outta my system.

Nilda G. called me today saying she found an apt. for me that cost $50 less per month than my current one, and it's already fully furnished. I could tell when she called I wasn't as enthused as she'd hoped, but I'm not so sure I want to move. Yes, with the savings I'd get in utilities it's more like $125 less a month, but now I'm used to the antique house. I've had to endure the bad and I've found out the good. And I'm one of those people who HATE packing. I'd travel the world, and pay someone else to pack for me.

On the other hand, it's made of concrete; entonces, no termites. And hot water. Insha'Allah I'm going to go see the apt this week, stay tuned.

I'm the most liberal and unorthodox practicing Muslim out there, and yet I'm probably the only one most of the people I know here will ever meet. Wild. At least I've broadened some horizons, fa'sho.

I didn't get the chance to say it earlier since certain people interrupted my train of thought, but I am SO SAD that Sex and THe City is almost gone!! And did you see yesterday? Ooh what if Big brings her back for the very end? Awww man, no more new episodes. I can't believe it. I bonded with half of VELMMSK over that show...no, wait, it was the Sopranos. That and Domino's chickenwings with breadsticks. We went around going, "Where's Pussy???!!!", which is the funniest sentence, in context or out. In the basement of ...um, that dorm that I can't remember the name of just now.

Guthridge (thanks to sr. alvarez. :-D ), the dorm is da Gut.

I gotta get outta this house, I'm going nuts.

Yay, back to the misbehaving kids at 7AM tomorrow.


It is really sad when returning to some hard-headed rude children is the highlight of a four day weekend. I really have to get my car soon. Like NOW.

About a house and a happy valentine's day

to my fans, the quotations and apostrophes in this post are a little nuts, i'm working on it. ~tt

'I have a little rhythm,
it lives inside of me
and when it goes crazy,
I go dancing free."

~Me, age 7

Happy Valentine's day, yall! How's life?

I feel good, still trying to get the hang of this blog thing.
Wanna know what I did today?

Welll so I woke up freezing (it was 68 degrees- brr) at 5:00, curled and half-reclined in the easy chair, which is on the other side of the house from my room. Got up, stumbled through my dark house to my cushy, blue-flannel-sheeted bed and went back to sleep.

woke up again at 6:30.
woke up again at 6:39.
woke up again at 6:48, at which time I reset the radio alarm clock to 7:30.

woke at 7:30 to admire gold glow of the rising sun striking my varnished wood ceiling boards. I am one lucky woman- I put up with a lot of bulldukey (Toto's word), but my house has the best view in town, no contest. Anyway, there were a lot of clouds on the horizon over the ocean, but also plenty of light. Yay!

I finally got up around 8, said fajr in a very very very low and sleepy voice, and walked through my house and past the easy chair to the laundry/2nd bathroom to collect my clean drawers and bra so I could take a (downright FREEZING) shower. Before I can get back to my room and scrub my booty, the handy-men show up to finish what they've started on my house.

I should explain about the house. It's not mine, of course. I'm just out of college, so I'm renting this huge casota in Guayama. It was relatively cheap by my standards when I first began to rent it, but it's full of antiques- puts a whole new meaning on "fully furnished"- and old, old antique itself. Like historical.
In fact, that's the word I use every time I'm working on the dueño of the house to improve it just a little bit more, pull it a little more from 1949 portareeco standards to 2004 LIVABLE US colony standards.

(Yes, I said C-O-L-O-N-Y. Gotta problem wittit? In denial about the territories? Didn't even realize portareeco was a part of the USA? Email me and we'll discuss: forevertwenny (at) gmail (dot)com.)

I put on my southern heritage and feminine wiles and go to work: "Oh, Don Carlos, you simply must consider tearing down those dripping acoustic tiles. Why, one fell on the stove just yesterday, took out a pan of my homemade roast chicken. And look at the wood underneath, why, it has to go back to the historical construction." Or, " I told those handymen they just have to be mistaken, Don Carlos, I know you didn't intend for them to really paint the ceiling boards white. Surely the ceilings will have a historical glow to them when they are merely protected with a clear varnish. You would increase the home’s value by restoring that." All of this in Spanish, mind you, which is much more formal and therefore lends so many more opportunities to be a flirting debutante.

Man, the Deltas who threw my actual debut would be mad if they heard me say that.

But seriously, this house is just as much a pain in the behind as a pleasure, because someone let it go. If I had to guess, and I'm not all that educated about stuff like this, it was built in the mid-to-late 1800's for some relatively affluent people, since the ceilings are high but the rooms aren't all that big. It's had some additions, most recently the very narrow TV porch, where I chill since it opens onto the garden with the orchids- and of course, because the tv is there. Built on a woodframe, it's rare now when everything is made of concrete to withstand the hurricanes. And its full of sawdust from termites. I've never seen a termite here, but their gritty, round, plentiful, dark, almost microscopic leavings are present every time I turn around. I'm always sweeping the floors, I never walk around barefoot and I've just about given up on keeping the dust out of my shag bathroom carpet. It's like sand but worse because in my mind,it is intrinsically "dirty", making my house filthy because it just won't go away.

When I moved in, there was water damage to the white acoustic tiles above the stove in the house. But when the November rains and inundaciones came, closing schools and swamping the region for two weeks, they also brought the rotten tiles down, sometimes leaving me in danger of getting boinked on the head and one time actually taking out the second portion of my dinner.

At which point I informed Don Carlos that I was ok with living in a 3rd world country, but that I knew he had the resources to fix the house, and enough was enough. Three things I don't allow people to futz with: my family, my money, or my food.

Now I live with brand-new, natural-varnish ceilings in the kichen and two living rooms, and they're working on tearing down and replacing the walls and ceiling in the bedroom where I'll let JW stay if he decides to come. And, I'm getting a showerhead water heater, so no more cold showers!! WHOOOHOOO! It's the little things, I declare.

Anyway~ I unlock the door for the 3 handymen- Robertón, the grandad, Roberto, the son, and Jose de Jesus, the grandson- with my bra and pink Vicky undies in hand. That sparks a whole nother thought pattern, because the middle of the three is about 30 and VERY HANDSOME. (psst, Isa: He's fine as frog hairs, girl!) One side of me is blushing because this man is seeing my drawers (to get this you have to hear this word as "draauws", which is how I think it), and the other side is annoyed and hence could care less: what the heck are they doing comin'round at 8:30 on a Saturday?

Which is when I noticed that it really was 8:30 so I`d better get it going if I was gonna be on time for my driving lesson.
It's a ridiculous point of my reality that I have been driving solo for 5 years on a temps.

Twenty minutes later, I'd found out the lesson was canceled. I actually waited to call my house, thinking that 7:30 on a Sardy is too early even for my mother- so when I do call, my brother JW answers the phone and tells me that my parents are walking out the door. Dangit.

On the other hand, that meant I Spoke To JW for A Whole Twenny Minutes! You should be proud of me!

My youngest brother is 16. I love him with all my heart. I try to talk to him and send him letters once in a while, to help him through the Personal Hell that is living as the only child left in the house with our parents. They get to focus all of their attention on his very temperamental self, and it ain't easy. Talking to him is both a treat and a trial. One of those things where I know he's smarter than I was, but he's so smart he's throwing it all away. I know now where all the teacher's get the word "potential".

I offered JW the chance to live with me because I think it would be easier for him, and I think I can handle the responsibility. Right now, we're still making that decision,so I had a great conversation with him about it. He didn't snarl at all! I think he really does want to come, get away from our parents and see how he can do for himself. We'll see.

And that was just the beginning of the day.

This has been the most productive Saturday I've had in a while- I picked up the mail, spoke to my mother, sister, brother, and best friends, did more work on an incomplete project than I have in two months, and even came back home in time to offer refreshment to the handymen like a proper hostess. I got some isht done, you know? And until just now, it didn't even occur to me that this is the "Dia de Amores", the day for lovers, meant for romance and all that junk. I spent it last year sick, bummed out that I had to drop line, and feeling sorry for myself that I didn't have a boyfriend. I feel good that this year, I spent it showing some tangible responsibility and peace in myself.

on being tall and uninsured

Submitted to the Radical Women of Color Carnival : RadicalWoC2

If you don't like gross stuff, please skip the next paragraph or two.

What a world, what a day. My toenail fell off today, which is the next step in a long, long scary healthcare-free journey that started when I busted my big toe wide open on December 30th. I remember this quite acutely, because it was the day before my health insurance got cut off. (There, gross stuff done, you can read on now and see what happened.)

See, I was walking into this little tiendita (really like, a small bar, I guess) en Mayaguez, which is a gorgeous city on the eastern side of portareeco, because it was blazin' hot and I wanted a bottle of water. Being that I am over 6 feet tall, I sometimes miss little things on the ground. Like the quarter-inch difference between the outside and the inside floors of the bar. So I slide my sandaled foot right into the tile as I enter, and damaged my poor, pitiful, absolutely gorgeous toe that had done nothing to deserve such ill treatment. Dangit. OooooWEEEE that hurt.
Now, I'm in Mayaguez with a toe that is wide open, and I have to make a decision which I realize is more common than I thought: do I go to the Hospital, or not?

Today, looking back, I can understand why healthcare isn't a bigger issue on the presidential candidates's radar. Until you don't have any kind of health insurance, you don't understand just how crucial it is. Betcha hardly any of those there candidates have had insurance and then lost it. I have a Public Health minor, so insurance is something I'd thought quite a lot about, but not so much until I was injured on the point of not having any. It really changed my thinking.
My particular situation probably isn't uncommon. Last December was the sixth month after I graduated college, and my mother's insurance was going to drop me on the last day of the year. Being that I'm twennytwo and an official grownup and all.

I even had a job at that point, a relatively good one. I'm a teacher at a public middle school. But no health insurance. I had to ask about it for months, and no one really came up with a satisfactory answer. Should I have had a benefits orientation when I was hired? Certainly. Did I ask the teachers union representative at my school about it? Yup. I had to stay after the man for two months before he passed me a phone number. That phone number led to more hours of frustration before someone got around to telling me that that particular bureau handled the free healthcare for which I don't qualify. Did I spend enough time looking for private insurance? Of course. It was too expensive. The irony was that I earn too much, according to government calculations, to qualify for the puerto rican health care card, and I earned too little to afford most private insurance. Suing the people who own the bar was out of the question for me; THAT STEP SHOULD HAVE BEEN MARKED, but I should've been looking where I was going. I could see on their faces, while the woman offered to put isopropyl on it, that they were terrified I would sue. I couldn't be the typical lawsuit-hungry american in that situation. It was as much my fault as theirs. But no lawsuit and not registering with the police meant I was on my own if my toe fell off or got infected. As it did.
How many other people have passed this very way?

Shout if you can testify!

I called my mother way back in Cincinnati to tell her the news; she wanted me to visit the hospital. Me being my twennytwo year old stubborn self, decided not to. I wasn't dead, just bleeding and in pain. I wanted to fully taste the vagaries of life without health insurance. My friends Isabel and Pedro took me back to their house, where I cleaned my foot in a tub of cold water, slathered it with neosporin (with the pain killer in), and dosed myself with panadol and coquito. Dont worry, the coquito was alcohol free and darn good.

I managed to shake and salsa my way across the dance floor three days later at Isa and Pedro's wedding, bum foot and all. And for the next 5 weeks I kept up with my toes myself, with no insurance. I'm still alive, and most days I forgot all about it. Until today, when I'm rocking in my garden underneath a beautiful bright white moon and look down to see my toenail isn't there. Then, I thank God I eventually did find health insurance (Much love and strength to Nilda and Fernando G. for hooking me up with the right people to do so), so I don't have to freak out about losing some body part more important to my health.

And I don't have kids, don't have parents to care for, I'm not responsible for anybody but myself. Can you imagine if I had had that happen to a five year old child? I have plenty of twennytwo year old friends with kids older than that. i Imaginate !

I made it without healthcare insurance. The uncertainty and consequences of not having it are something I wouldn't wish on anyone, anywhere in the world. Especially not the twennysomethings who are just starting to take responsibility for the world. Not anyone whose situation could end up so much worse, way worse than me.