one of those days | 2002-02-03 - 10:29 p.m.


Ay, dios, this has been one hell of a d�a.

From the very moment I awoke, I knew it was going to be one of those days. Was I greeted with the delicate music of bird song and the exquisite fragrance of jasmine as I sleepily opened my eyes esta ma�ana? No. I was not. When I awoke, it was to el olor inconfundible of human waste (backed up toilet) and the sound of Hijo de Puta pounding on my door. Dios, that door has taken such a beating since I moved here, it's a wonder it's still functional.

So, yes, I forgot to deliver the rent check this month. Can you blame me? What with all these shifts I've been working and all the time I've wasted on la chingada computadora these past few weeks trying to make my diary look classier, where am I to find the time for the grim realities of accounting? For grim they are -- I just balanced my checkbook and discovered I will have to keep my food budget down to $2.37 a week (�!) if I wish to avoid bouncing any more checks. I am Enron-before-the-fall personificada; I may look fine on the outside, but entre bastidores, I am a seething tangle of greed, denial, and despair!

To compound my misery, mi jefe called me in to work Mary Francis' day shift today. Normalmente, this would elate me, but not today. Hombre, I had plans! I was supposed to see a matinee with Concha at the UA today (she's dating a guy there who said he could get her and a friend in free before 3:00). I was really looking forward to it, too -- we were going to see that flick where Richard Gere goes "what's in my hand" and the dude on the phone dice "Chaaahhhpstick." Ooooo!! It gives me chills just thinking about it! So de todos modos, what does Concha do when I tell her I can't go? She says she can't wait to see it so she's going with Monica instead of me. Fickle norte�a bitch!

To cap it all off, when I get into work, there's this new cook there -- se llama Pedro -- and he's looking at me like I'm some kind of alien or algo. I'm already kind of self-conscious 'cause I didn't have time to fix up my hair like I usually do, not like I'm going to meet el hombre de mis sue�os at Curly's or anything, I just like to look, well ... *clean,* ya sabes? And this pocho, he's staring at me like he's the maitre'd at Spago and I'm a bag lady who's just wandered in and started harrassing la clientela. Hrrmph. I try to make conversation with him now and then, 'cause he's cute in an affected kind of way, but he doesn't say much; he just fixes his eyes on me with this look of horror and dread.

At the end of the shift, he's there washing up in the back and I hear him humming something under his breath. It sounds ... well, it's like nothing I've ever heard before. It's the sound of longing and esperanza and resignation and it's so painfully beautiful I just have to stand there until it's over.

"What was that?" I ask him when he turns away from the sink. He jumps, like he didn't expect to see me there. "Esa canci�n. What was it?" I repeat.

He reaches for his jacket and heads for the door. "Just something I heard on the radio the other day," he says over his shoulder. "It's from Vockner's Ring Cycle." The door slams shut behind him.

Who is this Vockner and why haven't I heard of this Ring Cycle album? And just what the hell is a Ring Cycle, anyway? Sounds like spin cycle ... I am suddenly reminded of the laundry I have to do when I get home -- three week's worth! I will be lucky, virgen, if I can get my underwear through the wash before I run out of quarters.

anterior - siguiente

pride and prejudice - 2004-09-07
wherein I become a Yahoo! Search Result - 2004-06-23
like 9-11 all over again - 2004-06-20
enough said - 2003-02-05
tirar por la calle de en medio - 2003-01-28

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