the humanity

it's 4am and nothing is wrong, but i can't sleep. i want to know why. it's unjust. it's just not right.

before i forget

i have a favorite-ish christmas moment. my mother wants to go on a walk. i've gone to bed early because i have a stomachache. my mother leaves to go on a walk; my two younger sisters go with her. one minute later, the sisters are back in my room, "joy, just kidding. this is not an optional walk. we ALL have to go on this walk."
"what? that's crazy."
"no, seriously. get up."
"crazy woman," i think. but there is no choice, so i roll myself out of bed, put on a sweater and stumble outside, where my brother is also waiting, and we proceed to ... to walk. our mother walks in front, and we, her offspring, stream behind her.
my siblings, however, are well-schooled in the art of owning, yes--owning, such authoritarian scenarios. we walk one block. then, my youngest sister, who is weirdly strong, suddenly turns to me and heaves me onto her back, piggy-back style. i am still unsure as to how i got there. she then runs down the sidewalk, with me still on her back. as we are racing down the street, we are overtaken by a large object, which turns out to be my younger brother, who is also weirdly strong, with my other sister on his back.
after awhile, the two weirdly strong kids drop those of normal/less-than-normal strength onto the ground and sort of do victory dance before starting a speed-walking race, back and forth between the walking humans and whatever large object (car, tree, house) is convenient. and then the sister-of-normal-strength tells me of the time she saw my brother throw someone over his shoulder and run down the street (something like that). and my brother (exactly like this) to prove his ability, tosses the sister-of-the-weirdly-strong over his right shoulder and shows us how he can run two blocks down the street and back, without slacking in his pace.
i, the sister of less-than-normal-strength, was rather overcome with awe.
and so we progress through the neighborhood, passing over-sized snow globes and the texas-shaped christmas ornamentation. our mother is now behind us, observing. and we are doubled over with hysteria.
i think i will end here.
the end.

just another thursday

the last thursday before school begins, i drag my sorry butt back to skybar. the salsa crew and i arrive at 9:30 and leave at 12:30. we leave after e. tells me i have slapped the man dancing next to us, in the rear, no less than 3 times. i had no recollection of this sordid affair, and thus decided we needed to leave, immediately.
i've always said that i don't need to drink to be drunk.

bum brushing

skybar was crowded last night. and that is an understatement. still, a partner found a way to dip me so low my hair brushed the floor. on the way up, my left cheek scraped against something coarse, and i had to press my hand against it for a few seconds, to stop the stinging. the partner and i finished out the song and said our thank you's, and i had a moment to reflect, "what was that thing?"
i realized it must have been someone's jeans. someone's butt in jeans.
yeah baby.

bare breasts

ok, story time.
i had my yearly physical today. i went, peed in the obligatory cup, and then, clad in my purple robe, toddled down the hall to the radiology unit. after handing my forms to the lady at the front desk, the attendant (fernando, according to his nametag) ushered me into the x-ray room and arrayed me in protective gear. as i stood there, waiting, with the lead apron tied around my midriff and my chest pressed against the machine, as instructed, fernando asked, as he had obviousloy been instructed, "have you removed your bra?"
"oh...no," i replied. i've had x-rays before. i should've remembered, but i didn't.
so, fernando exits the room and says to just open the door when i'm ready, and i take off the bra and look for a place to put it. but there is no place to put it except face-up (face up? cups up? cups upright?) on the table directly in front of the door. i gaze at my bit of black cloth with underwire and have a sensation not unlike the girl who goes bra shopping with her mother for the first time. i don't know. these things don't embarrass me, or so i thought.
i lay the bra across the table, open the door and fernando comes in, perfectly nonchalant. but i do a 180 and run straight to the x-ray machine and press my now-bra-less breasts on the panel, as before. but perhaps it was with a certain fervor, because there was a silence before i heard a shuffle behind me, and then the very polite hands of fernando putting the lead apron around my waist again. "oh..." i mutter.
"don't be embarrassed. it's all ok."
nervous laugh from yours truly, "hey, man...i mean, it's just getting kinda scandalous around here...what with bras and all."
cue fernando laughing (at me/with me/nervously...why does this girl talk so damn much-ly?)
and cue taking several x-rays of joy, now perfectly silent.

but oh, this was just the beginning. i had one more stop before checking out. i put my bra back on, and toddled up the stairs and around the corner to the EKG department. this time, now seasoned and much wiser than before, i volunteered my information to the EKG attendant.
"i have my bra on," i said before she attached the electrodes to my chest, "do you need me to remove it?"
"yes," she said," i do."
so i did. and then the attendant just opened up my robe.
so, there i was--lying bare-breasted and face-up on the examining table while she stuck those gummy electrode things to my chest and stomach. "heh," i said, "they're sticky."
she didn't look at me, "yeah, they are."
i started humming, because i did feel just a little exposed. i mean, in your peripheral vision you can see your own nipples, the tips of them just rising above your line of sight, in other words.
so, yeah. i was really glad to put my clothes back on after that. (shrug) maybe i only like nudity when no one's looking? or maybe only in the company of friends.

my way of apologizing to the blogosphere

JoieTang: my blog is negative these days
gnataxela: yeah?
gnataxela: i haven't read it in a while
JoieTang: yes, it really is quite negative
JoieTang: i used to only post goofy stories and an occasional "i'm emotional" story
JoieTang: but i lately i'm like, "internet yelling" every single post
gnataxela: a good venting?
JoieTang: well, good for me
JoieTang: i don't know who's reading it
JoieTang: they must be like
JoieTang: man
JoieTang: go find a ledge
gnataxela: hahhaa

it's like diarrhea

of the mouth.
i'm about to take a huge dump on this page.
consider yourself warned. we're legal. it's binding.
moving on.
i'd like to talk extensively about the fact that my car has been recently vandalized and that my cell phone has been stolen. i'd also like to say something about the recent lockdown at Westbury HS, the conflicts between local kids and New Orleans' kids, the connections between the disillusionment at my school and New Orleans, the slew of knife...incidents...and murders in (yes, IN) and around my high school. Poverty in Houston, gangs in Houston, drop-out rates, these are also on my mind.
or, i could mention that i discovered my highschool flame is stationed in Iraq (yes, in the desert with mortars falling around his bed)...two minutes ago. this also seems...you know...soul-shaking. or, maybe, i could actually mention something nice, for once...say yada yada about my prof forwarding me one of my grad school reccommendations, a letter so so glowing that i nearly wept.
so, you know...general crime, gang violence, evacuees, the war in Iraq, sneaking peeks at recc letters.

but all i really want to talk about is how much i suck at teaching. but now i'm too tired to talk about it, as is customary with teaching -- knowing what you want, but being too tired to do anything about it.
the end.

smoke signals

you know i'm pissed if i start eating large slabs of meat. today there was brisket at the faculty luncheon. i speared about 16 oz of meat onto my plate. and yeah, i ate it all.
you know i'm extra-pissed if fatty proteins are not enough. today, after the 16 oz of cow, i found a bag of caramel popcorn, ate it, and followed it with a frosted animal cracker, two butter cookies, and a handful of dove milk chocolates.

so, what does it all mean? what does it mean if you witness a 5', twenty-something-year-old female storm down the hallway with a plate of meat in one hand and a bag of chocolate in the other?

it means you'd best watch yourself.

so obvious

clearly, something is going on with me. i'm watching mad hot ballroom. and just now, i almost, ALMOST started crying. they're...they're just so BEAUTIFUL. these children DANCING...ok.
time of the month? yeah, maybe.
which reminds me of a story... yesterday, during my off hour, i had to run to the grocery store for a package of products, as i was out, yes yes. so, i'm rushing back into the school just as the kids start to swarm out of the school. i'm carrying my pretty, green package in my see-through plastic bag over my left arm and the little boys passing me are sort of eyeing it warily. at least, i think they're looking. and, i make it up the stairs, into my classroom, plop the thing on my desk, lean over to open a drawer, and then there's Giovanni at the door. no time to hide. He runs straight to my desk and stands in front of the package i'm unwrapping. "Miss!" he yells. (Why do they always yell that word? It's as if the word "Miss" cannot be spoken, as if to simply say it in a normal tone of voice would cause the word to lose its original meaning.)
"Yes," i say, before he can ask his question, "Ms. Tang was out."
"What?" his eyes refocus, "Miss? I didn't even notice."
"Really?" i ask.
"Really," he says, and then he asks his question. But, as he is walking out, he turns around and adds, "Besides, it's just natural, Miss."
true story. he said this, which leaves me just so SCHOOLED by a high school BOY. The boys i knew in high school covered their ears and sang, "lalalalalalalalalalalalalala" at the very mention of menses. my younger sister has this story about how she chased a boy around a football field with a pad in her hands. and he screamed bloody murder the entire way. but this kid, "Ah MISS (always a yell). It's just natural."
i so need to meet this kid's mother. what did she put in his cereal?