Wishing Wells

I feel that sitting on the porch and playing music is like being a wishing well. The well is just there being itself, but a lot can happen because of that.

Mi Amigos Nueva en Música

Hola amigos,

¡Hoy es me prima dia en la esqual Universidad Internacional! My first class was really easy so I'm switching to a harder one tomorrow. I'm nervous about that. The speaking part is my favorite.
But two much more pressing matter.

This is Oscar (en la izquierda, tienes 12 años) y Diego (en derecho, tienes 14 años). They are mi amigos nuevo en músic.

I was sitting on the porch playing my banjo (see the posting from 06/25/08), and Oscar, mi vencino (my neighbor), came by and asked me, en español, if I knew how to play guitar . Turns out he has a guitar but didn't know how to play it. So, we sat down and began learning. Let me tell you . . . he plays now!

It was Oscar's first lesson. We played small C and small G7 and sang and played "Pay Me My Money Down." Then we got down to Small G and D7 and played "La Bamba."

Now, mind you, I only speak a little Spanish and Oscar only speaks a little English, pero, we both did great!

Diego came by a little later. He has a few lessons under his belt and is ready to rock, but I think he's going to like this folk music stuff, too. When he came over we picked up the tempo a bit and played through "La Bamba" and "Pay Me My Money Down" again. Both of them learned the chorus perfecto, and we sang and played all evening.

I'm sure I'll be playing all summer.

I finally had to call it quits when my stomach started growling. Check it out! I made my first guacamole of the summer. It's really good. The avocados here are awesome, just as I was hoping. I'm really coming into things routine-wise, and today was my first trip to the grocery store where I felt like I actually accomplished getting food for a meal or two. That's good because I've been spending too much money eating out.

I must admit, though, I couldn't find the corn chips. I KNOW! The chip aisle only had potato chips and Doritos. So chalked it up to I don't know what, and settled on some tostadas. They work fine.

Well, tengo tareas poder. (I have homework to do.)

Hasta luego amigos,
Jason

Filling Up the Vacation Bingo Card

Picture of an old church.
* Check - that' the free space.
Turned right instead of left. Found my self where I didn't think I was.
* Check.
Forgot the sunscreen back in the room.
* Check.
Waited for others outside of a museum.
* Check.
Invested in mosquito spray.
* Check.
Got that, "This is not my hometown grocery store. Who knows what I'll find here." feeling.
* Check.

I hope they call, "Buy a beach towel." next.

Settling In

Settling in.
School starts manaña.
Listening to the Tigers on the porch.

¿Como se dice "Front Porch Music"?

Hey,
There where a couple moments I didn't think I was going to make it, but I made it. I'm never flying a "red eye" flight again.

Here's a picture of my front porch for the summer. I already got some compliments on the banjo and a couple curious young girls asked me if I was a music teacher. I met my neighbor who's name is Grace of all things (my very good friend and neighbor in Chicago is named Grace).

Tomorrow, I have to figure out where to get some coffee.

Adiós,
Jason

The First Thing I Did was Burn My Journals

Actually, the first thing I did was take a nap. Then I burned all my journals.

I'm done teaching for the summer.

Miki and I had a little ceremony this evening, where I read a few select and a few random passages from journals I've been keeping since 1998. Then we burned them and roasted marshmallows.

Parts of the experience were tough and moments where quite physically beautiful. All and all it was very cleansing. You might wonder why I would burn my journals, or maybe why I would journal in the first place. I see it like this.

If I was creating a wood carving, I wouldn't save all the wood shavings, I'd only save the carving. Now, since I graduated from college (and began the task of living a much fuller life), I've been working on a sculpture and this sculpture is me. The journals where the shavings of this sculpture. They needed to be created, but now they've fulfilled their use.

I could have just thrown them in the dumpster, but I felt like they needed more respect than that.

Soon, I will have no apartment and I'll be off to a country where I don't speak the language. I feel another journal coming on; a new sculpture.