My girl is here, sleeping. She got in last night. It's been great so far.

Sometimes it still astounds me how much she loves me, how much I love her, how much we deserve to be together. It's time to make the moves so that we can be a couple, a real couple.

She was telling me about her friends, about weddings and parties. I think a deeper reason why before I used to feel insecure about all of this was that I was unsure, or at least, so messed up in my mind, about whether she loved me or not, whether this was worth it, whether it would last. I was feeling insecure about the relationship, and thus I felt insecure about being with her friends, being in her world.

Now it is time to feel good, to feel better. To realize that my girl loves me, to realize that her friends also love me, and me for me!, not because I am anyone else. That is important. That is me. I am worth it. I am an amazing person.

This makes me feel much better about everything, about us, about her friends, about her. I know that she loves me. Not because she has never loved before, but because she loves me. For who I am. That's good. Reason to celebrate.

I decide. I am good.

Okay, so my girl is in the Miami airport right now. I'm exhausted; I've spent the entire day (except for lunch with a friend) cleaning the apartment, running errands. I bought groceries, went to the dry cleaners, did laundry, cleaned the apartment, went to the bank (twice), bought wine at the wine store, bought flowers, ironed all my dress shirts, and am now chilling out in front of my computer with a beer. Phew. And she hasn't even come here yet!

I'm looking forward to her visit a lot. I want to have a lot of fun with her. She's a great girl, and I want her to feel that. I want her to feel loved, and I want her to really have a good time here. There's so much to do! There's so much to see. Of course, I'm looking forward to the late mornings in bed and the kisses and back rubs and stuff, too :)

I've made two resolutions for the New Year: 1) Stay positive; 2) Have fun. I want to be with her on a permanent basis. I deserve it, she deserves it, and we as a couple need to go for it! We can do this!

So while she's here I want to stay positive and have fun. When I head to El Salvador I also want to have fun with her, her family, our friends, and the people I have grown to love there. There are a lot.

I've decided to finish my program here at NYU in 1.5 years instead of two. It's what I want.

I've decided to sign civil union papers with my girl so that we can begin to live our lives together.

I've decided that it's time that I be happy, truly happy, that I fight for what I want, that I stop trying to be strong, stop trying to be independent.

Why? Because I'm strong, independent, and my own person already.

I decide how I want to live. I want to be happy. I deserve that. I am happy, actually. I like who I am, who I am becoming, the process I'm in, the life I'm preparing to live. I like all that about me.

It was a good holiday. I got to see my family and spend time with my niece. They keep me positive, remind me who I am, what I want, where I come from. It's important to remember that, always, even when I'm not at home. I think I can do it.

One of the things I like best about my girl is that she helps me be happy in the giddy, silly sense of the word. I like that.

I'm listening to the new Beirut album "The Rip Tide." It's amazing!

Nelson George's article in the NYTimes on current African American cinema is awesome. I saw him speak at the Brooklyn Book Fair this fall.

So listen. I know every once in a while I mess up and say stuff I shouldn't. Last night I reacted poorly to my girl because she was talking forever and she mentioned taking a shot of tequila with her buddies and it just kind of rubbed me the wrong way because I was at home here reading, doing nothing, and I think I get jealous.

Yet I'm getting better. I get stronger every day. I get more confident. I build, crescendo, I move, sans bravado, I know who I am, comprendo. I am doing this. I am ready to have fun with my wonderful girl. She is amazing. I will call her right now, finish this beer, put on my jacket, get on the train, and wait for her to come see me. I have an amazing life. I have earned this, worked for it, deserve it. I like it. I love it. I love me. I love my girl. I love this.

My father mentioned today that my girl must be pretty adventurous to still be with me. It's true! After all, I am from a different country in a new city and not exactly sure of where I'll be in three years. I can't offer her the certainty some dude from her own country and her own financial situation could offer her. Sure, I've got my gifts--got a whole lot of them--but it's important too to remember that I'm lucky to be with a girl willing to take risks.

I forget about that sometimes. You know, sometimes I forget about how she is taking a big risk. I should remind myself how incredible she is for betting the farm on me, so to speak. She is investing in me, in us, and I really appreciate that. For her, it would be easier, I'm sure, to just call it quits and get someone closer to home.

She must, then, recognize that I am an amazing person. I need to believe that more often. I need to realize how amazing I am, how talented and passionate and good I am, not only for her, but as a person in general. I have so much to offer, so much so that she is willing to take a big risk with me. I'm no superstar, either, so it fits to say that she really loves me, she's really putting forth her 100%. I need to be more thankful of that. I need to realize how great it is to be with someone who really wants to be with me.

Of course, I am daring as well. I am an amazing person who also is betting a lot on her. It would be easier to dump her and set my sights on a girl from NYC. It would be easier. Yet I know we love each other, I know this is worth it, and I know that I am getting stronger every day. She's at a dinner party right now with some friends; I hope she has a great time. I don't want to worry about whether she smokes or drinks or anything. I know she is a great person, capable of sacrifice, capable of weathering the storm for me, capable of a lot. I am the same. I am a great person, I am willing to take some hits, I am capable of so much. I like knowing that I am an amazing person with so much to offer.

I like knowing that I love me--in fact, I need to do it more often. I need to love me more. Today--maybe because I'm tired--I felt a little negative, a little worn down and pessimistic. It's a constant process. As my friend Errol said, it's one of working to be better every day, a process of having a positive attitude, a positive approach, every single day.

Yes, I want to be happy with her. I want her to be happy. I want us to be happy together :) I want to go to El Salvador with my head held high, happy and proud of myself. I want to do the same thing with her: find some town to live and make a happy home where we are both fun and free and in love. I want that. I can do that. I deserve that. It will work! I am happy to be me. I know that if I am true to myself and in to me, I can do great things, just by being me. One of those great things is loving a great woman.

That is my New Year's Resolution. That is my life resolution. I am ready to try. Oh, my girl, I love you :) Here we go. Day by day. God, give me strength. Me, let me just be me. Free. Me. Love. Respect. Love.

Here in the plane heading to Kansas. It's weird: I look outside and see nothing. This solitude was so common for me in El Salvador--the stars late at night, the quiet mornings, the feeling of being alone. Yet in NYC, it's something I never experience. It's caught me by surprise, and it makes me think of the plains of Kansas I knew in my adolesence, the forests of Washington, the hills of El Salvador.

I think I am getting stronger. So much of this depends on approach, on attitude. I have done good things in NYC. I have made some great friends--yes, I have! Errol, Athena. Owen, Hiro! I want to get more involved in #OWS, I want to be a good student teacher, I want to be good on long distance with Viole. I want to support her. I want to go to London 4 the summer. I did well in my classes! I did very well. To be honest, I think I'm one of the stars of my program. I have my own ideas, have passion, have experience. I am doing things right.

I think of my upcoming trip to El Salvador and sometimes get nervous about it, about being with my girl's friends, about being in bars and going out and doing all of that. The key is to feel good about me, to stand strong in my identity and sense of self. I am amazing, and I want to walk there smiling, happy to see people, happy to be alive and doing what I like to do.

Yes, I am here. I am coming more fully into me, into my identity. I am not alone. I am loved. People care about me. I feel good about going to El Salvador; it is the right thing to do.

The therapist in El Salvador was right-- I need to be doing something good, be around people who understand me. With my friends, my brother, my work, and my beliefs now stronger I am doing that. My time in El Salvador is about sharing with people who were part of my process of becoming. They are part of a great time I spent with my girl. I am happy to revisit and share with them again. At least, the people who were part of that, well they are part of who I am. They are who I need to see.

The kids in the Resi

My family and friends in Chalchuapa

Armengol, Silvia, Cristian, Simon

Edwin, definitely Edwin

Emily and Rofo

Ruben

These are things that I decide. I used to shun hanging out with my girl's friends because it made me feel awkward and left out. But, they care about me and support me. I'm not one of them, but I want to have fun and laugh. Stay strong and true to me-- I got too far away from that. I am an amazing person.

I used to only wanna be w/ my girl's family because they were tame and took good care of me.

But look, I'm realizing two things: one, I am amazing and two, my girl is a good person and so are her friends. They are fun, smart, caring people. They don't want me to be or say anyone/thing else. I am great just as I am. I am amazing and doing great things!!! I think they know that. And you know what, they are good people, too. They are honest, fun, and willing to love and support me. I want to support them, too. I am a person who is complete, who is fun, who is a really positive force in a lot of lives. I will continue to be so.

So, I just stay strong in who I am and who I am becoming. I celebrate with those who have shared with me. I walk forward. I walk forward.

All of this can be great and fun and love if I want it.

Love. Respect.

The Format

Ben Folds

Bon Iver

Lupe Fiasco

Stars

The Head and The Heart

Kanye West

Sufjan Stevens

Explosions in the Sky

Counting Crows

Bjork

Edwarde Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros

Cafe Tacuba

Calle 13

The Black Keys??? We'll see :)

I just wrote my girl a nice note on her Tumblr saying how much I admired her personality. It's true, but it also makes me feel good to support her. Its important for me to remind me that she's a good person and that I am as well. I am a great person, capable and smart, caring and brave, nice and passionate. I support her. I support myself. I love her, I love me.

Listen to that music as much as you can.

Meeting with Carla, which is s good postive thing for me! Stay strong, stay good. You're done!!!

I should take a bit of time, really, to reflect on all I've done and learned this semester. I've done a lot, met some great people. I am getting stronger, realizing who I am and growing into me. I like me for who I am, what I do, what I love. I need to stay up, stay focused on bringing all if me into the world. I am a great person, faithful to my beliefs.

I bought tickets last night for a show in March here in NYC, The Head and The Heart. More on that later; Carla's here. Stay positive! Stay strong! Stay you!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/55908828@N05/

Here's the link for photos of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine. An amazing church!

Saw my cousin for the first time in a couple of years. It's funny how she and her partner haven't changed at all. He's got longer hair and everything, but they look pretty much the same.

They're doing well. They invited me and my girl to spend New Year's Eve with them, which is great. New Year's Eve has consistently been my least favorite holiday of the year, mainly because there always seems to be a lot of pressure and parties and stuff I'm not really that into, like getting piss-ass drunk. So, the idea of being with my cousin and her boyfriend's family friends seems like a good idea for me and my girl. I called her and asked her about it, and she said she was down for it. That's great; it's a big load off my mind, and I feel much more capable to focus on more important things.

I went to St John the Divine today, at 111th and Amsterdam. It's an amazing church, and it has my favorite artist's last painting there (Keith Haring). I love the piece, and it's great to just find these hidden treasures in New York. There are not too many cities like this one in the entire world!

We got a hint today to sell our computers just a few minutes ago. It seems sketch, and I'm worried about it. I don't want to give away my address or any of this stuff...it just seems a little dicey. Plus the email the guy sent me had a ton of typo's on it...I'm kind of worried it's just some spammer or some dude that kills people for their stuff. I don't know what to do.

Anyways, the good news is that I'm setting myself up for success. I feel like my cousin will give me a good opportunity to have fun at New Year's. I feel like I have a great life. I mean, look at what I do all day. Today I work on a paper in the morning, eat, then go to an amazing church, see amazing art, talk with my cousin, have a beer with my brother, talk with my girl, and come home to work on this paper. I finish, and tomorrow I will fly to go be with my family. I can't complain about too much. After suffering for so long, it's time I take a long hard look at things and realize that I've got them pretty good.

I am fine just as I am. Lots of people love me. Lots of people care. I am a good person. My girlfriend is happy with me and I treat her well. My family loves me, and I love them. I am an amazing thinker, a smart person, and a fighter for justice. I am good. I respect myself for who I am and for who I'm trying to become. I am an amazing talented individual. I am fine just the way I am. No one is trying to change me. I love me. I respect me.

Aleks Syntek y La Gente Normal-- great song

Here are the lyrics. Remember them.

Hoy me llevo bien con mi soledad

puede ser mejor el quererme más

pues así, ya no te estoy pensando

no podrás romper mi corazón

Ahora yo quiero vivir conmigo

sin preocupación

Soy yo, más fuerte de lo que pensaba

sin mi, ahora viviria en la nada

soy yo, más fuerte de lo que pensaba

sin mi, ahora viviria en la nada

Todo olvidaré, sin guardar rencor

sólo habrá atención donde este mi voz

Sólo así, quiero seguir soñando

y poder latir mi corazón

Ahora si, quiero vivir conmigo

sin preocupación

Soy yo, más fuerte de lo que pensaba

sin mi, ahora viviria en la nada

soy yo, más fuerte de lo que pensaba

sin mi, ahora viviria en la nada

Okay, so I gotta keep staying up and working hard. I have to realize that I am just fine as I am, that no one wants to change me.

I read an article on Sean Parker today in the NYTimes. Of course, the guy sounds horribly insecure, and he just wants people to like him. And you know, the thing is that I'd already read this from a previous interview with him in Vanity Fair, well, I think he's really into drugs. He likes the idea of expanding his mind, no matter how it comes.

And I'm not going to say that's wrong. I would decriminalize weed in three seconds if I were in charge. But it's just not something I want to be a part of. I feel weird because then it makes me sound insecure and close-minded. I'm not that way. I'm a secure person--I know who I am and am very accepting of others. There are experiences I don't want or need to have in my life--based on how I see myself and what I decide for me. The key is this: I decide. No one wants to change me, at least no one that I care about.

Yesterday was great because I talked with my girl, all of my family, and my two best friends. I love keeping in touch with those people, and they keep me grounded and feeling strong. I need to stay strong. Both me and my girl have said and done things we regret--but the important thing is to stay positive, to remember the good things, to feel confident about who we are and where we're going.

Look, I can't love my girl because she makes me feel secure. I can't love her because she validates me as a person. I can't love her because she makes me feel like I'm okay. I need to do those things by myself, on my own. That's why I'm here writing here and now: I know that I am a great person just the way I am. I know that I am okay, that I am working hard to be a better person and have a good future. I take those things, I feel good about I am, I realize that I am absolutely incredible, and I walk with her and we have fun and we are happy doing cool things.

That's how it works. If I feel like she makes me feel bad, then I'm out. If I feel like she makes me feel like I'm not okay, then I'm out. She's not doing that stuff though. She knows I'm amazing, I know she's incredible, and we want to have fun and live a good life together. That's what it's about. It's about my feeling great about who I am and where I'm going, as well as where I've been and how I feel about it. I can't wait for her to give me to okay, or for my well-being to be contingent on her approval of me. No way.

As Lupe Fiasco says, "If you are what you say, a superstar, then have no fear. Your time is here."

Yesterday was great. I talked with good people, went to work, took it pretty easy, had a good conversation with my brother too. No, I don't smoke anything or do drugs. No, I don't really want to. I accept that about me; in fact I really like that about me. No one else has to do it, just me. I just want to be with good people and have fun with the people I love.

I know who I am. I am a young man working for justice, for peace. I am a young man who loves to have fun, eat good food, be active and travel. I am a young man who is on a journey--spiritual and physical--to be a powerful educator who works well with kids. I love who I am because I feel like I can do great things being me. I love soccer. I love working with good people. I love being with my girl not because I need her to feel good about me or to feel complete or whole. No, I like being with her because we have fun together. We do things we like to do together. That's it, that's all. That's who I am. I don't need to let hookah bars or Sean Parker or anyone, not even my family or my girl, make me feel bad for who I am. I am me. I finally realize what the therapist told me earlier this year. I need to have more faith in me. I need to realize that I am an incredible person. I have done so much, tried so many things. I have talked with so many people, been so many places, that I let them distract me from who I am and what I really want. I need to come back into me and go forward. I need to get out via through. I need to Robert Frost this shit. I am good. I am happy. I have so many people who do good things for me. That's great.

love. love. love. self-love. self-respect. love. respect.

I am a non-conformist. I am original. I am unique. I am special. I am beautiful. I am me. I am just fine.

Yesterday I participated in civil disobedience with #OWS and got arrested. I spent about four hours in jail but feel great about it. Here's an article about it on the New York Times.

I feel good about who I am and what I stand for. I passed under the fence and asked myself on what side would Jesus be. I was not scared, was not nervous. I was happy to have the opportunity to stand up for what I believe in. You can see me in the photo above, but I will let you figure out which one I am.

Barca won 4-0 against Santos of Brazil yesterday as well, proving it is the best club on the planet. As if we didn't already know :) Messi scored a couple of goals, which is great. I love the guy. What's crazy is that he's as old as my younger brother.

I talked with a couple of friends once I got out. One told me I was crazy but the others definitely supported me. I told my father this morning and I hope he feels okay about it.

After getting out of jail and talking to some really really nice #OWS people (the movement has ALL of my respect), I went to a party in Queens with some buddies from NYU. That was great--it was a pretty chill party with beer and cookies and some dancing but only just a little. I was tired.

My girl called me at like 4 in the morning because she had gone back to her hotel room. I am happy she had a good time at the wedding. I'm sure she smoked, but whatever. I am focused on doing me and being the best person I can be, so I'm not going to let that worry me. What's more, she's a good person and it's not like she got super wasted and was throwing up on the bathroom floor. I missed her last night a lot, but I am happy she had a good time at the wedding. I know she put a lot of effort into the food she took there and was stressed out about it all. It's also good for her to have a good time and party and do her thing. She doesn't do it all the time, and it's good every now and then. I had a good time at the part last night--didn't get home until about 3.

I am happy for her, that she's with her friends and has a good life and is good. I know that I am a different person, unique, and that my situation is also unique and what I struggle with right now is tough, but it is preparing me for a better tomorrow. I am working to become a better person, and everyone has their demons. My buddy was talking about how it's been hard for him to break out of his shell this year. So, you know, he also recommended that I never compare my life with my girl's, and that's solid advice because it doesn't lead to anything. I don't try to compare them--I know we have completely different stories and histories and personalities. Sometimes I feel bad because I am often alone and she is often not, but that's just how it goes. I knew that when I came here--that I would have to deal with being alone and this experience was going to be about my becoming someone better and stronger. This is what's happening. Every day I feel stronger about who I am. Getting arrested yesterday only further proved to me how brave and strong I am, how I am willing to fight for what I believe.

So, the answer is not to feel bad about her not calling or to feel jealous about her opportunities to be with people. I also have my share of amazing opportunities to do amazing work and be with amazing people here in New York. I am an amazing person doing amazing things here--working hard, studying hard, trying to be better, trying to work for justice, trying to stand up for what's right. These are things in which I can take pride, these are things that are forming me into someone stronger. Last night when my girl told me she had smoked, well, I didn't really get bothered by it. I chose to ignore it as best I could. Sure, it's kind of disappointing or whatever, but I also recognize that she is at a party and with her friends and it is not always like this. I also recognize that she has a lot of things that are wonderful about her--her generosity, sense of humor, grace--and these things win against her smoking.

I know this is a busy time for her, and I don't want to raise the expectations. I want to be good. I want to be strong. I want to be better. Look at who I am.

I am a young man interested in soccer, social justice, faith, education, and doing right.

Doing these things every day--realizing that I am great and that my girlfriend is also a great person--is important. We're different people--different culture, religion, tastes in music--but I think there is more to it than that. We like cooking, we like traveling, we like art, we like to have fun. These are things we have in common, and I know that after a year of being together our commonalities are greater and more than our differences. I am happy that she is having fun. I am happy that she is enjoying life; I sure as hell don't want her to be sad. I don't want to be sad, either--I need to be happy and good, not make her sad. I am working on that, day by day! I am positive :) I am an amazing person. Day by day!

Went out tonight, had a good time. We went to Carnegie Hall to see my brother's girlfriend in a choir concert. It was kind of lame, but the opportunity to be in Carnegie Hall is always a good one, so I had fun. Beforehand, my brother and I ate dinner at some burger place. We always seem to have good conversations.

After the concert we went out and had a few beers with my brother's girlfriend's friends. I told the story of how I met my girl and it made me feel very proud of who I am and what I fight for. I am a brave, incredible person. I am great. I am someone who fights for what he believes in, and that is to be commended.

I need to stay positive. I called my girl at 1:00 thinking she would be asleep or alone and wanting to talk with me, but she was with a family friend drinking beer. Sometimes I get a little upset--jealousy I guess--because I feel like she doesn't suffer like I do. I think she must, though, in her own ways. Maybe not at the same times as I do, but it can't be easier. Arguably, I have had to overcome more obstacles in my life and deal with more adversity, but I guess that has made me more capable and hopefully, more confident. Plus, it's good for her to have fun. It's good for her to relax and enjoy herself. After all, I did it tonight :) We all need it, it's good for us. I just wanted her to miss me. I suppose that's normal; I was feeling a little lonely and sad. She passes through those moments as well. And just because I feel bad does not mean the solution is for her to feel bad.

The solution is for me to begin to feel better. That takes more work, for sure, but the real solution is for me to feel better about myself. To realize that I am great, that I have a good life, that I am doing the best I can and am seeing results. That I have friends, that I can be happy. That I am loved by a lot of people and that a lot of people love me for me. That's inspiring. That's good news. People care about me, and my girl loves me too. So, that's a good thing--I can use those things to realize that I am just fine as I am, that I don't need to change for anyone, and that I am amazing. Like the girl at the bar said tonight, I'm amazing. That's something to remember! That's something to make me happy :)

I can be happy, I really can. I know it's hard as hell. I know it requires work. But I can move to fathom the amount of love people have for me and internalize that, and use that to make myself feel good.

Good night.

Good luck.

Thank you to everyone who loves me.

Today has been a positive day.

What has helped?

Plans with my brother

Listening to music I like

Writing a lot and reading

Doing meaningful work

Walking outside

Eating good food.

Things to keep doing, for sure.

I love who I am. I love who I am.

Have to stay positive.

So remember that this is the letter that you wrote her and can write and be positive and hopeful.

Hola mi amor,

Espero estes bien y que las cosas del trabajo te esten yendo bien!

Acabo de terminar con mi clase....voy a ir a almorzar ya y regresar

aqui a la biblioteca para terminar mis deberes. Mi hermano vendra aqui

a las 6 y saldremos a cenar juntos. Hoy en la noche la Sarah tiene un

concierto en Carnegie Hall, donde ire a verla. Es bonito, la verdad.

Ella pertence a un coro voluntario y una vez al ano hacen un

concierto. El boleto me costo unos $50. Nunca he ido a Carnegie Hall,

entonces estoy emocionado por la oportunidad.

Otra cosa buena que supe en mi clase ahora es que podria calificar

para una licensia bilingue--en ingles y espanol. Eso me dara la

capacidad de ensenar ambos idiomas en segundo y tercer ciclos aqui en

EEUU. Me encanta la idea, especialmente porque no tendre que tomar

ninguna otra clase, solo pasar dos examenes. Me voy a enscribir a ver

que tal. Me emociona la idea...me dara mas oportunidades, seguramente.

Quiero sacar el jugo de todos los anos que pase aprendiendo espanol!

Eso es lo que hace mi amigo Bruce en Wilmington, Delaware. Estuvo

conmigo en Cuerpos de Paz y hoy da clases de espanol. Le pagan bien,

tambien.

Estoy muy feliz por vos--me parece que tenes un monton de

oportunidades para divertirte, y eso es muy bueno para vos :) Me

alegra que tengas tantas cosas que hacer, la verdad, y es bueno estar

feliz en el tiempo navideno! Se que te preocupas por los gastos, pero

ni modo ;) Cuando estes aqui haremos las cosas bien--gastaremos en

comida y diversion, pero en hospedaje nada, transporte nada, y el

CityPass nos ahorra un monton de dinero.

Nosotros vamos a estar bien. Me alegra tambien que sintas positiva hoy

:) Se que has de estar cansada--pelar camarones y la fiesta de JS--dos

noches ocupadas. Pero, agarra animos! Es viernes. Ya casi termino con

mi primer ciclo de posgrado. Como me ha ido tan rapido el ciclo! Podes

creerlo, que estoy 25% terminado con mi maestria???? Estoy orgulloso

de mi mismo. Siento que voy a recibir buenas notas tambien.

Pues, cuidate mucho. Estare aqui en la biblioteca en la tarde :)

This morning was tough. I couldn't sleep last night, so I was up until around 2AM tossing and turning, running thoughts through my mind, turning them over like prayer beads, flipping them like coins, trying to figure out how to feel about it all.

This AM was tough because I talk to my girl and she tells me about a ton of parties and friends and lunches and I feel a little left out of it all. I don't have any of that coming up here.

I do have, however, a good brother with whom I'll eat dinner and see a show tonight. I also have a party that I'll go to tomorrow. I have some good times here, and my friend Anthony is with me in the thick and thin of it all. I am a smart man and a talented one and my professors know my names and I like being in school. I just found out today that I can get certified very easily for teaching Spanish grades 7-12. That's awesome. I just have to pass two fluency tests, and with all of my time in El Salvador and my good Spanish I'm not worried. That would be nice--to walk out of NYU certified to teach in two languages! That would be great--having studied in New York, London, and also being able to teach English and Spanish. I'm going to do it--it requires no extra coursework. #Goodnews ;)

***

So I have to keep doing me. I have to keep having faith in me, my life, my talents, my goodness. In my heart of hearts, I am happy my girl has a lot of good opportunities to have fun. She deserves it! We all do. I can't worry about jealousy and lament my situation as too difficult--I like knowing I'm doing the best thing for myself right now. I like knowing I'm challenging my beliefs and trying to be the best teacher I can. I like how I have the balls to take leaps of faith. I can't worry about what my girl does--I have to trust that she will do her life as best she can. I can only do me as best I can. She's there in El Salvador going to weddings, having fun, eating and going to parties and living in her community. That's good. I am happy for her; after all, I wouldn't want her to be unhappy, and I certainly wouldn't want her to have no friends, no life, no goodness. We all need that.

So I guess I just have to stay up, keep doing me, keep bringing myself, my whole self, into the world. Every day. It gets hard--it's never been easy--but I am learning. I genuinely feel that I am getting stronger and better and more positive. I genuinely feel I am growing and learning more about myself and having faith in who I am. I am an amazing person. I am everyone's equal. I am just fine just as I am. All this stuff about my girl's smoking, partying, whatever--you know, I just gotta keep doing me. I don't think she's a bad person. I know she has good values and wants to be with me. She loves me--that's the most important thing to remember--that she loves me. I think we'll be fine.

I've been wrong on this one. I've been unable to see how good I am. I have to realize that. I have to accept me, and I think that will help me accept her.

I am fine. I am good. I remember once that someone in Kansas told me that I had to have more faith in my beliefs and stand up for what I believe. To be confident in who I am. I am. I am doing that every day. I am trying every single day to be that person, that young man from Colorado that has been a lot of places and met a lot of people and changes a lot of lives and loved and been loved, hurt and been hurt, learned and taught. I am a young man, 26 going on 27. I am a fighter. I am a fighter. I am working on this every day, and I know that I am doing my best right now, oh yeah. I am doing this as best I can right now. I got good music on my computer right now, I am about to eat and then finish this final, I am doing as best I can in all of this. I am TWS. I am TWS.

Her smoking--she can have her smoking. It shouldn't make me feel bad because she's doing something bad or being someone else. She's not--smoking for her is something she does when she's having fun. She deserves to choose and to have fun--that's cool. I can't mess with her right to choose, to choose whatever she wants. I don't need to focus on that or let it distract me. I just have to focus on accepting me for who I am. She loves me. I need to remember that, too. She loves me. She loves me.

She doesn't want me to change. I don't have to like Woody Allen or Bourdain or Stereo--in fact, I don't. I don't have to agree with her on everything; there are so many other things we have in common or can do together and we have a love that I feel is genuine. Genuine as in real. As in authentic. What that mean? That mean I gotta be as authentic as I can. With myself, with her, with everyone.

With that: authenticity, as my goal, I'm going to march out into all of this. My girl has a good life, I am struggling with mine, that's how it is. But I still have to be authentic, I still have to be real and authentic and know in my heart of hearts that I am incredible, that I am amazing, that I am a good person exactly as I am and that I can love the shit out of myself.

I am getting stronger. I don't care if I repeat myself, or contradict, or do anything. I'm not wrong. I'm not wrong in this space, my space. I am trying to get stronger.

Nick asked me if I had smoked before...I said yes. I asked him and he said yes but that he had never really liked it, said he did it to fit in.

Yeah, I said. I never liked it.

Don't, he said. It's stupid. You're not missing anything.

He told me to be cool with me. He told me to be at peace. I will take his advice and be at peace with my decision.

BTW, there's a protest for #OWS this Saturday. I'm going.

Listening to right now: Lupe Fiasco.

I love Lupe Fiasco. His new album Lasers is great, but The Cool is classic. I am listening to Intruder Alert right now.

At my home eating arroz con leche and an egg sandwich for dinner. Oh, the days of being single and living alone :) Man, there are benefits! I also deserve props because I did not buy anything today. Doing that living in NYC is a challenge. No food, no nothing.

So my girl and I had another argument today. It's all been around the fact that she smokes, and I don't like that. She told me today that what she wants to protect is her right to choose what's right and good for her. I shouldn't have anything to do in that.

I have to admit, she's right. I rarely admit it, but she's right about this one. So how do I get over it?

Now that I think about it there are a lot of things about her that I don't like. I don't like her taste in music, I don't like Woody Allen (she does), and I hate Anthony Bourdain (she loves him). I don't really like her ideas about UFO's.

These things are not the end of the world. The key is my own self-security and feeling good about it and doing me.

The secret is doing me while still loving her. How?

Accept her as someone unique and different. Before that, though, I need to accept me for me. I need to be cool with my own beliefs. All of her things about smoking/Woody Allen/ music--they all hit at insecurities I've had about my own life. Sure, I've tried cigarettes, but only when I was trying to be someone I was not. Sure, I think smoking is seriously stupid, but I must respect peoples' right to do it. The same thing about drugs--I would legalize weed if I could, but I don't want to smoke week. I would do it to stop the countless deaths and insane violence across the world and because I don't have the right to tell people what to do with their bodies.

Not even, and probably especially, my girlfriend.

Anyways, I'm getting off point. Stick to my guns: I need to remember to love myself above anyone else. Love starts here. Loving someone else is probably a practice in democracy more than anything else, perhaps the way to practice being tolerant and loving and equal.

But Jesus it's hard to do!

One day at a time. I resolve today to really seriously try to work this out. To not just accept my girl, the good and the bad, but also celebrate her. I believe she is a great person, that she is a wonderful lover, that she is someone with whom I want to be. I get that. Celebrate that, celebrate her.

and CELEBRATE MYSELF. Remember Whitman, remember the awesome person I am and the wonderful life I have. Yeah, I got problems: loneliness, work, studies, long-distance, new and big city, questions bout what's next. Yeah, but I got gifts: generosity, compassion, intelligence, humor, health, passion, love. I am loved and I love a lot of wonderful people. Let's celebrate that. Let's celebrate that. No more worries about differences--they can all go away when we realize what's really important. Love, love, love, love, love.

I can be the person I want to be. I am the person I want to be. I am the person I have been waiting for. I am the cool. I am a laser. I am everyone's equal. I am Tim, unique, imperfect, perfect, crazy, brilliant, funny, sincere. Let's go.

Interesting article on a mysterious kidney disease in Central America.

Okay, so Robert Frost once said that the best way out is through. That's a great thing to say, especially with questions about relationships.

In most cases, I think the best thing to do is not to just give up and throw in the towel when a relationship gets tough. Mostly, I'm thinking of my case re: the long-distance relationship I have with my girl. I can't just give up--as tempting as it is--because it's really hard to be far away.

Being far away makes you question everything. Being far away from people and places of comfort also sometimes makes me feel insecure. Being exposed to new things makes me feel weird sometimes, too, especially if I don't like them.

The thing to do with all of this, though, is not to get so insecure as to throw away the relationship, or to cut off the ties. I need to take a look inside, reflect, and remain focused on my goals. I need to realize the beautiful life I have here in New York City! I need to realize the kids are really pretty amazing and their beef with authority is just that--one with authority, not with me. My goal is to show them that "authority" can be good, fun, and worth their time. otherwise, spending a whole life fighting it, well, that gets old fast.

I know I'm not the next saint. I'm 26, going on 27. I'm in a master's program at NYU. I live in NYC and am trying to get the most out of it. I am trying to live my dream and do me in the best way possible. I'm trying to stay true to what I want in life. I have to be in charge of that. I have to do me the best I can! It is sometimes lonely but I think I have done a lot. Too many people have told me not to change, to keep being me. I have to believe them and do it. I can do it.

I really like the music group Stars. They're from Montreal. Your Ex-Lover is Dead is one of my favorite songs.

On another note, I am slowly working here in this space on becoming more positive. Let's think of some things I really like to do with a special someone:

Eat

Beach

Cooking

Dance

Party

Sleep

Watch movies

Read

Drive

Go to new places

All of these are things I have done with her and really loved it.

Part of feeling capable to love is feeling capable to do anything in your life. It's about feeling capable about everything--capable of being happy, feeling secure, having fun, making friends.

I have struggled with these things in the last couple of years, but I have always done very well in all of them! I need to have more faith in my own capabilities and identity. I need to be able to look at people and not feel threatened or insecure of who I am. I do not need to be anyone else. I do not need to be anyone else. I am fine as I am. I am fine as I am. I do not need to be anyone else. I need to remember that I am a great person.

I think a lot of this has to do with being in environments that are different from what I am used to. That's good--it helps me see the diversity and incredible beauty of this world. This I most certainly have experienced. I have also seen a lot of stuff in the last few years that has sort of rocked me. So, how to be secure in who I am in the midst of a lot of challenges? Well, the only way to get around all of this is to:

Alright young brother so you bring alot to the conversation. Hell you are probably in a completely different place now . So I gotta go home but I will say this, you have to do what you have Set out to do, love will drive you crazy, it's the most beautiful feeling ever, and will take you out if you don't check yourself and keep your eyes on the prize. The prize is how are you going to bring your total self to this world. Have some fun , work hard be the guy that we all know and love and ALL will be well. You are my guy always, maybe we can talk soon.

I've left El Salvador in many ways. It's still in my heart. I still keep in contact with many friends there. My wonderful girlfriend still lives there.

Yet it's not the same. I'm no longer in the Peace Corps, haven't been since July of this year, one that's quickly coming to a close anyways. I no longer live in San Salvador. I still speak Spanish everyday, but that's because of where I am now: New York City.

I am at the close of my first semester here. It's been good. I student teach in the Bronx, am taking 13 credit hours in a graduate program of English Education at New York Education, and live with my brother. We have a wonderful apartment. I have maintained a wonderful relationship with my girlfriend over the months even though we are far away. She comes here to New York City soon. I have been reaching out and making new friends in school. I am working hard to become a good teacher in my school. I want to do well.

These experiences have had their share of difficulties, but I've learned the best way to get past things is to go right through them, to go right fucking through them.

My hope is that I am becoming a stronger and better person. My hope is that the hard of this makes me stronger, makes me more human. It is easy to shut people and experiences off, but it is not right. It is easy to feel confused, lost, and alone. It is easy to want to give up and release so many of the responsibilities I have.

That's not the answer. The answer is not walking away. The answer is stepping up to the plate, confronting the insecurities, and becoming stronger, braver, better.

Here we go.

I worry sometimes about not being a good teacher. Today I found myself pleading with my students to behave. They did not respond well to my pleas. I need to trust my authority. I need to make sure they are doing edifying work, true, but as a student teacher I have no control over that. In lieu of such responsibility, then, I need to be strong with these kids. They do not need another friend, and I don't want to be their friend. I need to stand up.

That said, I need to realize how awesome these kids are. The dances they follow are great social movements. The comedians they watch offer great material to study in class re: social beliefs. The fact that some kids skate, tag, draw, and play a lot of sports is really awesome. There is so much to tap into. So, I need to 1-be strong and 2-utilize the kids' awesomeness for the class. They, understandably, have no desire to do boring work.

I worry sometimes about being incapable of being in a long-distance relationship with my girlfriend. I can do it, I want to do it, but sometimes I get messed up with insecurities about stupid stuff. I have done a lot of interior work on my being non-judgmental, and in fact I am hoping to become a great person who really accepts everyone. My stance regarding drugs and smoking is that the stuff is not for me, so sometimes when I realize that my girlfriend has a different stance it throws me off. I know that it's fine--we're different people--so I need to get over this. I think it is just insecurity. I can do this, though. I can get through this.

How? I can realize that we have been together for a long time (over a year now) and I know she loves me. I can realize that during all the times we have been together the uncomfortable times have been very few. I can realize that she is a good person with good friends. I can be optimistic and believe that when we are together we will have a good time and be relaxed. I can really internalize that she cares for me and wants me to feel good. And lastly, I can accept myself fully and unconditionally for who I am. That, I think, is key for me to be able to accept anyone else. I notice that secure people are tolerant and that insecure people aren't. So, I need to feel good about me. It's something I don't think about that often, but it's probably the reason I feel like difference somehow threatens me. I need to realize that there are different strokes for different folks, but that doesn't mean I have to do things differently. I am fine just as I am, and so is my girl. I am loved by her and I love her in spite of the little things. We are just fine.

I have to get right. I have to be better. I have to step up. I will do this. I will make it. I am doing so.

One step at a time. I will make it. I will get to where I need to be.

The Layers

by Stanley Kunitz

I have walked through many lives,

some of them my own,

and I am not who I was,

though some principle of being

abides, from which I struggle

not to stray.

When I look behind,

as I am compelled to look

before I can gather strength

to proceed on my journey,

I see the milestones dwindling

toward the horizon

and the slow fires trailing

from the abandoned camp-sites,

over which scavenger angels

wheel on heavy wings.

Oh, I have made myself a tribe

out of my true affections,

and my tribe is scattered!

How shall the heart be reconciled

to its feast of losses?

In a rising wind

the manic dust of my friends,

those who fell along the way,

bitterly stings my face.

Yet I turn, I turn,

exulting somewhat,

with my will intact to go

wherever I need to go,

and every stone on the road

precious to me.

In my darkest night,

when the moon was covered

and I roamed through wreckage,

a nimbus-clouded voice

directed me:

"Live in the layers,

not on the litter."

Though I lack the art

to decipher it,

no doubt the next chapter

in my book of transformations

is already written.

I am not done with my changes.

Note to self: All future poems will be new, change, bright.

I am not sad;

I am not alone.

I am happy,

and I am doing my best.

I love and am loved, and I will be that light.

Gravedigger

Last night the sister calls at 10:00 PM.

The dog, 15 years old!, has died in her arms of cardiac arrest.

The poor girl, V, sobs, sobs, sobs, and everyone in the house comes together and they are all crying as the sister drives over with a dead dog.

It must be buried. The father is out of town, will be home shortly, I volunteer to dig the grave outside in the garden. I smash three fingers with the shovel against the wall, it hurts, but I keep digging, needing to feel useful. I dig about a meter then rest, my body shaking, my back sore, and wash the blood and V, she puts Hydrogen peroxide and ointment and is concerned.

Waiting for the father we look at family photo albums. V was a beautiful girl growing up, even as a teenage with braces. The photos of V I liked so much were taken by her ex's mother, her mom tells me. Do you want to see the one of them together? I called my mother tonight, distressed, but of course she was asleep. Tomorrow, she says.

I waited in V's office for an hour and a half for her to finish a chart. I read Chekhov in a small chair. The office has not windows, the TV is on, and I am not allowed to leave without her. Afterward we eat in a hip vegetarian restaurant with a French chef and listen to Bob Dylan and the Who and Coldplay as we eat cucumbers and quinoa and drink pink chilled wine.

Earlier that day I had gone to Santa Ana to the University with a young boy today to help with the papers. He didn't need my help. My own desperation to be useful, even just to be used, made me offer him money. “No,” he says. “This is something I need to do myself.”

Where are my things to do myself? I buy V something every day. Cranberry juice, flowers, candles, lunch. I make the bed. I check my email obsessively. I want to be a good boyfriend. But waiting in her office yesterday, I felt horrible.

Her dad says, as we are burying the dog, that his mother always said pets were necessary, that pets

were sacred animals that could sense the pain of their owners and even take that pain, sacrificing themselves for their human counterpart. He says for the first time in ten years he got gravely sick on the road after lunch.

I want to believe in so many things like that. And others: that 9/11 was a conspiracy, that 2012 will bring something interesting, that marijuana is a sacred plant. But I am strangely tired, strangely hurt, strangely sad, though I did not know the dog.

He has lost ten pounds since coming home. At hearing her say they can’t talk tonight, for example, he almost cries. He is an addict, and he feels incapable of eating, his stomach a tight ball.

Yes, he is too needy. She is freer perhaps, and she may not need him like he needs her. Could that be true? That kept him awake last night, made his feet sweet under the covers.

He knows it is not healthy. He begins to think the best thing to do is just break it off. This is not how he really feels.

She tells him that people tell her she has an open mind. He believes to have an open mind as well, to be one of the more unassuming people he has met. He has seen a lot of weird stuff. He thinks people are good, believes in redemption but also does not blame when it doesn’t happen. These things are beyond me, he says.

He thinks most of this is happening because of lack of self-esteem and lack of reading and writing. These things seem to humanize him, and his self-esteem is low because she feels so fine without him and he feels so hopeless without her. He has lost ten pounds. She has not. He needs to understand she loves him. He does not seem to get it. Reading and time and reflection and friends, these things seem to help. Human things. Get him out of his head.

Today she says she is watching the TV and will talk to him in half an hour. Is that rude? He doesn’t know quite what to say. He was the one who said they should talk later. He can wait. It is fair. It is not rude. Why does he have to convince himself? She is a real person; more real and well adjusted than any of the other girls he has dated. She seems to always keep things in perspective, whereas he does not really ever do that and cannot seem to occupy his free time (too much of it!) in anything else besides thinking about her, which probably drives the two of them crazy. If only he had more of a hobby. He is tired of waiting. This is not normal for him. If only he had something in which to invest. He needs a job, a new space.

He has an open mind, is calm and accepting and sympathetic and has always been great with young people, with his friends, with everyone. He is not racist or homophobic and he does not judge or discriminate people for what they have done or not done. He knows guilt is poison and is working on his savior complex. He worked with homeless youth for a year and met countless sob stories, gangsters, and addicts. He believes in faith, in religions, in ortho-praxis but not ortho-doxy. He has seen poor people, known them well, eaten their food. He doubts these things because he wants so much from her. He wants her everything. He is crazy, probably.

He does not really want to go to Europe. Actually, he really does. He would love to see lots of things with her. He doesn’t quite know what to say about it all. Sure, it would be fun. He would never have really gone, or thought about going, if it weren’t for her. As long as she promises to love an insane man like him forever.

He is in love and lonely.

It's all rain exploding onto aluminum now, the hut's roof shaking and I'm worried it will all just fall down. I ran here from the edge of the Atlantic, where clouds had towered for days and this morning suddenly stampeded onto land. Fishermen hauled lines in fast, hard. It was to be a big one.

The first monsoon of the season always comes out of nowhere. It was hot for months, the bottoms of my feet cracked and dusty. But then the clouds broke open and it felt good as I ran home, the morning light bright and clean and the air a pregnant cool. The fruit freshly cut in the markets, the coffee hot in the cafes, bread warm, the drunks still sleeping on sidewalks, women just arriving to the heart of the matter with the morning gossip. Everything waiting, and then the clouds break open and it really is all noise and cold water and I am beginning to worry it will really all just fall down because I came to this country on a whim, on the advice of a cousin, and nothing seems more flimsy than that as the rain hurls itself all around me. There are old men covering peanuts and fried pork skins and roasted corn with the lids of frying pans and plastic bags and the explosions on the aluminum rock me now as I have nowhere to go.

My students laugh too loud and walk in packs. They join gangs. They watch roosters kill each other. They climb trees fast and jump into bottomless caves filled with dark, dank water. They are eager to learn how to read. They eat mountains of rice, dance bachata every weekend, and are kind toward me in the most beautiful ways. Even the rain, tearing down dead leaves and crinkled paper and plastic bottles from the bushes and trees and pushing them down into the street gutters, is harsh and kind and nurturing and I cannot always see that.

Once it stops I get out and walk along the beach again trying to listen. The ocean is clean and fresh. The sand is all caked together, smooth and brand-new. Crab tracks and seagull prints appear every so often. Sunlight streaks through the clouds. No rainbows. I climb to the top of a hill above the beach and a young boy is also up there, alone. I greet him, say good morning, and begin to throw rocks into the sea below us. He does too, and I bet him a small coin I can throw farther. There is a big cargo ship beginning to show on the horizon. On the next throw, he acts as if he's hit the ship and sunk it, satisfying sounds coming from his lips pursed in a smile. I wonder where it's from, where it's going.

Cuando te conocí tu hermana me preguntó de donde era yo

Y hace tanto tiempo desde que me fui que hasta a mi se me olvidó de donde era

Y mucho menos porque importaba

¿Basta decir que soy del mismo mundo tuyo, de la sangre tuya, que busco

El mismo amor tuyo, el calor de tus brazos, la delgadez de tus dedos en mi pelo,

Tus besos arrastrándome hasta la mañana, dándome paz por las noches como ésta, con el viento aullando y las ramas de los palos cayendo en las calles?

Ahorita todo afuera se parece tan peligroso. Las estrellas no me dejan.

Creo tener valor suficiente para amarte.

Hace tres días vi pasar los asaquanes, la larga cola tan alta, fueron miles,

Regresando del Caribe.

Todo cambiará. Ya se. Y se también que no te conozco tanto, ni cerca de lo suficiente para escribirte así,

Ni modo.

Tengo que aguantar perder/te/todo.

Don Manuel is chopping wood outside, loud as all hell,

The baby is crying and the girl fusses over him,

Doňa Nita cooking the eggs for dinner with hot oil popping,

Omar changing the fertilizer from one sack to another, preparing for tomorrow,

It’s late, like 8:00, the news just coming on,

I lean closer to the fuzzy TV to hear more, exasperated, almost falling off my chair. Armida laughs at me. Then:

72 immigrants discovered dead in northern Mexico.

Everything stops.

We remember the boy who lived here, the son who went at 19 years old, his money sowed tightly into his shoe.

Doňa Nita prays usually every night before bed.

She kneels on the dirt floor and whispers and asks God for things and guidance and peace

But tonight she just cries, just cries, her large body shaking in the silence of the house.

Of course, none of this will make the news in the United States of America.

Hey, so check this out, last night I’m taking the last bus, the Especial, home from San Salvador, the clouds high, big beautiful sunset on the drive, little later lightning dancing nonsense across the sky, lighting up those clouds, making them turn blue all crazy and then fade instantly to black. And I got lonely; you know that tight pain in my chest, a lack of feeling ever really there with someone—make sense, as I had just passed the afternoon faking to be confused about being in love with Lore. But I just shut it down, went over to my friend’s place after getting off the bus, knew better than to be alone—after all, with four years of being single I have learned something—and bought a dollar’s worth of pupusas and a beer on the corner, turned on the TV, shutting off those stupid voices.

Earlier the same day I bought two shirts, a camera, shoes, and other things. I bought shoes without trying them on, bought the shirts, all this shit!, for like $200 and didn’t even think twice about it. Just do it, Tim, I said. Stop thinking. Trust your instincts.

When I saw Lore again that afternoon, man, I knew right away nothing would’ve ever worked, ever. Just no attraction. I need to trust my instincts more—the shoes are great, but the pain I felt on that damn Especial seems to come with trying to fake it. Like, she trying to hold my hand as we walking and me just being distracted by every little thing so as not to let her see my eyes.

But yeah, so I get off the bus and everyone is hurrying to get home and out of the rain, scrambling behind doors and into alleys, and I’m like the only single living person on the streets of Chalchuapa, and those big-ass volcanoes looming out in the distance, all sad and shit, there for no good reason, just humps of rocks now, and here I am realizing I’m more alone than ever.

Hey, just buy the camera. I did. Hey, $115, fork it over. Shoes. All of it. Just now. Instincts. Wake up, man.

Night sky.

I watched those planes from a dusty Salvadoran village, red lights blinking across the sky

Today I come back on one,

Cutting the night, and my mind, open.

Open. It is like breaking off chunks of ripe watermelon with your hands.

And these crazy memories

(There will be no sleep tonight)

Come flooding back

Of lust and a lust for love and

Of I with women, quite beautiful, never understood, dancing into the the darkness.

Black hair and hips, smiles and salsa music, the smell of corn and earth and green

And loneliness like smoke curling around me, silence, and the plane hurls on home.

CONTINUATION OF SERVICE

(this is not a poem)

I don´t think about this shit cuz it´s hard to realize this is gonna hurt.

We over at Jaimés house eating burgers and I love the guy,

no like endorsement or whatever, but he tells me that what he feels is:

Blessed. And that is so true man. We are really blessed to be here,

for me to talk about moving to southern France and we have so many options, adventures.

We are all so beautiful, well dressed, tanned, and I fan tears away from my eyes as

they give us our certificates. We are getting done! I hug Claudia hard.

She has been good to us.

We go to Cafe la T. I see the girl, chispa, cute, dressed in white.

She looks fun, and I wonder if I can deserve that fun.

I say she is too good for me to Ben but at the end of the night I am kissing her cheek,

telling her no es por nada, pero sos bellísima. She says thanks, see you next Friday night. I dance really well with her. I dance like a champion! Taxi home. Sweet air.

We talk love and long distance and all sorts of shit the next morning and late into the night and I fly down here, jumping down the staircases and flying past la gente,

To the ciber to talk about my hopelessly romantic self. I don´t understand a single thing more about love than anybody else. Shouldn´t I though, as a poet, or at least, as a wanna-be? I just know we all love it.

Disclaimer: To be good, a poem needs to be more than just honest. Thieves are honest.

So this Chalchuapa girl, Yesenia, yeah she´s cute but I would like her to be more that what she is.

But I waited until it was too late for anything to happen anyways, self protection to not get disappointed. I build this shit up in my mind so much.

And Lorena, yeah she sending me messages promising love but I don´t feel that either.

What am I looking for man? An Alicia Keys song? I hate novelas but dream them alive.

Ima leave them both. Ima move on.

What lies. I will remember them. Does that make me a good poet. Good lies?

When will I take them/me as we are? No lies.

Think about this. The pain is sweet. We are leaving this country. This will fucking hurt.

But we are such mad lovers, loving the fuck out of this hurting country and it all blends together to a sweet poem,

Sweet because only we know the words, gentle, nervous, hopeful. We wrote the first words two years ago in letters we wrote to ourselves, people we didn´t know.

I didn´t burn out. I loved my community hard. We all did. They loved us right back. We got braver.

And so we will continue to run, run, run, living this way forever. This wasn´t a honeymoon, a resume builder, this wasn´t a close of service. They never even mentioned that the C has two meanings.

Fuck the beltway and KSA´s and career resources at the RPCV lounge. A lounge! Man.

I liked the slide best, even though I busted my nose on that slide.

Heaving Ben, one, two, three, Mark and I, Addie supervising.

This has been our lives and I´m right here man, strong, and trying to be true.

Trying to be a poem.

Yo, como tú,

amo el amor, la vida, el dulce encanto

de las cosas, el paisaje

celeste de los días de enero.

También mi sangre bulle

y río por los ojos

que han conocido el brote de las lágrimas.

Creo que el mundo es bello,

que la poesía es como el pan, de todos.

Y que mis venas no terminan en mí

sino en la sangre unánime

de los que luchan por la vida,

el amor,

las cosas,

el paisaje y el pan,

la poesía de todos.

TAKE 2.

When the sugar cane throws its silky seeds high into the bluest of Salvadoran skies,

November already,

The circus comes to town.

It blooms overnight, colorful petals one by one assembling themselves

Opening up to the stars, breathing in deep the brisk winds, the sleepy volcanoes.

The small, hardworking, calloused people of these lands will come to see.

We come, truckloads of us. We come and drink coffee in Styrofoam cups and eat tortas and

Popcorn, the young men drinking sugar cane liquor in the shadows, underneath trees, silent.

The tent opens and two sad beautiful women collect our dollar bills and we step in,

Into another world, the finest theater in El Salvador, dirt floors and wobbly wooden benches,

Cigarette smoke and the smell of beer permeate the air as we eagerly await the clowns,

The dancers, the jugglers, the trapizee, and the most famous character of all Latin America:

The maricón. We come mostly to see him.

We will die before saying it, but we all want to be the maricón, the faggot.

Stiletto heels, frayed jean skirt, a blond wig, and so much makeup may seem like lies,

But he dances well. He dances well.

We avoid eye contact, throw our liquor bottles, whistle, crack jokes with our buddies. Yet

We stare at his firm ass and cheap sequined silver shirt, carefully exposing his belly button and

The joke is on us.

He is the only one doing what he wants.

This is the stuff of love.

We might all well be maricones if we are brave enough to dance with all the jealous taunts,

The hisses of people too scared to dance. (Good circuses are full of mirrors).

I am on the stands, she has been in the ring, and lost,

And I probably don’t have the strength to write the poem I need to about her.

It would have been too complicated to say some still foreign part of me would’ve liked to

Stand up and make my way down through the crowds of cowboys and dance.

It is easier to say, «How could she?, freak of nature for being so confused. Maricón. »

But there are no more sorries anymore.

We have both fucked up, the circus is already over.

He will dance again soon, a new song,

We have one more dollar folded deep in our jeans pocket.

We get into these rusty pickups and ride through the fields, the landscape as alone as space,

The moon burning bright,

Going back to our small homes and sleeping the night away, that damn

Maricón haunting our dreams.

Date #2

We part ways at MetroCenter. I am heading home.

I down two beers in the bus station bathroom in San Salvador, hidden behind a stall with the smell of shit mixed with beer, the noise of the city,

and I am in Cal Anderson Park in Seattle all over again, me and Alex slamming whisky in the basketball court on late Friday nights.

I ride the bus in the rain, buzzed (Seattle again), free, happy, giddy, thinking about why I didn´t kiss her, why I won´t.

But she looked great today. Great. It had been seven months since I´d seen her. She is smart, funny.

And my mom, what would she say? Would the other girl be jealous? She sounded jealous on the phone.

I am here now in my hotel room waiting.

She tells me I´m not open enough. That´s my problem.

That´s not true. That´s not who I am.

I am ready to be open, but for the right thing.

The night we went to the lake, when we sat on the dock and got drunk on cheap liquor and went back to the room and she tried to get into my pants, kissing me hard and pushing me onto the bed, I really didn´t want that. Or expect that. That sucked man. It was not the right thing.

So I shut her down. Because no, I´m not open to half-way love.

I fell out of love very quickly the last time I tried it.

Being generous, one would say I know what I want and don´t settle.

For so long, and this will continue, I have felt I have needed to be strong.

Can that mix with love? I think so. After all, Obama´s married.

And maybe she is too open, maybe that´s why three times now she is getting hurt. Maybe she is too unsure of who she is, what she needs, where she is going, and she is afraid to do all of that alone.

I am not afraid of being hurt, if that´s what you are thinking. So why does that sound like a lie? Who isn´t afraid of that?

Is it also a lie to say that in three years I have not met anyone I´ve been interested in that has also like me?

It´s true to say I also haven´t been trying.

My friend gave and lost a lot to a girl who threw him away.

The way I see it, then, where´s the harm in waiting? But what am I waiting for?

Cuz I hear all those cheesy things bout saving me, rescuing me, love love love.

Man, I´m just trying to save me. And that´s as far as it goes.

So is she right, that I don´t want to take care of anyone right now, don´t want to accept responsibility for anyone´s feelings? Yeah, but I do. Man I do that with a lot of people, even with her.

Cuz my mom said that when it´s right, it´s something you wanna do. It´s compassion and sympathy and you reach out because you wanna feel what they feel, be there, not just help or save, but laugh, love, be lazy on Sundays, eat out, be happy.

Maybe she´s got it all about finding someone to help her- Maybe that´s not it. Or at least, it´s not the reason to love…to help.

So what to do? I guess I have to just keep being me, and I have to look for opportunities. That, honestly, is not so easy here. But I must do it, because Obama´s married, but Batman isn´t.

Or why? At my own pace man. My uncle got married at 75. My grandma at 19. We live our lives man.

I remember summers in Colorado, the mountains, the rain, the wonderful people. The green. Man, that´s where I need to be.

Day by day.

The kid, 21 years old, an adult here with his girlfriend and her two-year old son, says that lately he´s been thinking about going to the States. Not that I don´t believe him. I do. He says, "it may sound cowardly, but I want to get away from all my compromisos." Obligations. To-do´s. Must-do´s. They have to do with the girl.

He´s gotten himself in quite deep here. He´s got a lot of work. She´s so needy, so desperate, so save-able, with her kid, messed-up mom, wanna-be gangsta brother. And he is strong, young, happy. She is always a former-something. Addict. Atheist. Fill in the blank. He was ready to accept compromises, to be a man. But not to feel so limited. It´s what makes you feel old and tired. Having to always do things you don´t want to do, what we men must do here.

We were coming back from a wedding when he told me this—that he wants to go to the States to look for a crush in New Jersey, a friend of mine who came to visit. Cute girl, too. Italian. They email.

But a wedding! The ultimate compromise. The most serious of them all. For life! One person! They seemed so happy. So willing. It must be those compromises that make us happy, driven, purposeful.

And here I am, dying for compromises, those of family, romance, work, my hometown. Anything! How can I get them? I want things to be expected of me, to be held accountable, to be noticed. To be missed. Thrown here as a volunteer, I am not held to many compromises. I know what it´s like to have no compromises, and I have hated it. For three years I have hated it. It is a half-life.

So we make it back from the wedding. He stays at his house and I continue my walk alone. I cross the river, silent, my life, my sins, my compromises, the river bears all this without sound.

I walk and halfway there I sit among sugar cane fields, hidden, looking to the clouds and volcanoes and the setting sun because I am trying to figure out my compromises. I want to know where the next one will come from.

No, friend, I think now, it is no fun to have freedom, complete freedom. To be too free is to be too alone and it hurts. I am too used to it. I am terrirified. But I am still here. Should I go to New York? Should I study? I decide I will buy my mother´s old house.

My friend and I know that going north, going anywhere, these are pretexts for erasing bad compromises. Being poor is part of that. If you´re poor you´re born with like a thousand bad compromises, and you can´t get out of them easily, not without a lot of pain, a lot of loss, a lot of trying to forget. That is what my friend is realizing.

I hold the little neighbor girl on my lap, hug her thin body tight, rejoice and sob with her tiny life in my hands. So small! She is the most beautiful thing. I clean my classroom, plan my classes, take kids to museums. Where is the river? Where are these wordless compromises, instantly understood and tolerated? I love the little girl. I do not want to watch too many more sunsets alone. I hope my friend does not go to the States. We must be very strong in this life.

He is trying. He is a good person.

He hears the little girl he loves crying and fights strong urges to run to her, where she walks barefoot on the muddy path across from his house, to hug her, squeeze her, and then roar and claw and kill to show her safety, strength, no reason to cry. With her she would not be so poor. She would not need so much.

But he gets tired. At night his dreams torment him: insane laughter, sick hungry children. These things haunt him. He remembers reading long articles on poverty, passionate books on saving the world, and how he wanted to immerse himself in those problems, know these people, live with them, love them, help them. Reading, then, he understood they were victims, that corruption, repression, capitalism—these things were to blame.

Here, however, he is not understanding them, nor they him. There are barriers of language and culture. You can imagine.

So he leaves and heads to the city where people look like him and spend money like he can. He drinks with friends and laughs and complains about the people in his village. They go to strip clubs and he sees very young girls waiting in gas stations, street corners, very late at night, all of it fuzzy because of cheap beer—70 cents a can! Then he goes back to his village and hurts more because he never refreshes himself through these visits, and he is never proud of them. He is ashamed.

But here they talk in incorrect Spanish and he corrects their errors. The mystery of this country, the beauty—like the obsidian rocks that fall from lightning bolts, the sirens who haunt the ocean coast, the gentle volcanoes blanketed with fog, the aroma of coffee plants and rain and the brightly painted houses, all of this is lost. He is trying to get it back.

But he cannot see what they see. He wakes at 4:30 AM to plant corn, heads to the fields with water and a little food and a small group of men and he wants it to be romantic, like Walt Whitman or someone else famous and natural, but it is not. It is frustrating because they cannot teach him well and he is hot and tired and not accustomed to work like this. What´s more, he simply cannot see the holes where they have already planted. Each man holds his line, walking in a curve along the hillside, planting two grains of corn every two feet. He cannot see the difference in the ground, with its leaves and grass and footprints, and so his line weaves back and forth, up and down, and this means he cannot plant corn very well.

The men and boys are brutish and large and lie to girls, get them pregnant. They misbehave in his classes at school. They are ignorant and seem to have no interest in learning anything.

Mostly he wishes the problems just were further away. They need to back up, give him some space, because he is frustrated and tired and when he tries to sleep his cell phone rings at midnight because its alarm function is broken. He thinks of travels to Cartagena, Buenos Aires, Barcelona, of wine bottles and scarfs and more sophisticated things, of metal forks and knives.

He remembers working as a cook in a homeless shelter in Seattle. How minivans and SUV´s with liberal screams of bumper stickers always pulled up on weekends loaded with clothes and food, heavy sacks of canned goods and thick wool sweaters. How happy the donors were, helping!!!, giving!!!, cleaning up, making new. And how he and the kitchen staff always spent the next hour throwing out the shirts no one woud ever wear, even homeless kids, and wondering what in God´s name they could prepare with twenty more cans of green beans and Bean and Bacon soup.

and how is life in seattle and your crazy plans for latin american adventures and kayla and all that jazz ad are you still riding the bus with your stereo whistling at girls because i can really whistle at girls now, i mean, the long and thin salvadoran whistle, high cool you look great in those pants whistle i mean you should fucking hear me!!!!!!!!!!!

HIDING

I wonder what this kid is doing in my room and I want him out.

It´s 8:15 PM and I am tired. But then I hear that the other kid is crying, yelling, and this one here wants out.

He has no choice, no fault really, in any of this.

And I´m doing okay. I don´t want out like he does.

This little girl, I saw her from the bus the next morning, sitting alone under a tree, watching. Waiting. 6:15 AM.

I don´t miss a car, Blackberries, labels, coffee shops, that shit. Like I used to? I hated that shit in the States. I hate it here.

I think my pregnant host-sister wants out too, judging by her face when I gave her a pair of earrings.

The best way out is through, as Robert Frost said. I believe that. Push through the hard times, submit yourself to your culture, be at home here, find home in the unfamiliar.

But I am wanting out I guess. But I am happy here. Just talking, you know, talking with people I know. Day by day. I am just so damn distracted sometimes.

They say, a sort of legend, that Salvadorans are the spirits of deer. Timid, soft, curious. Scared, humble, gentle. They do not run around saying I love you like in the soap operas. They view it all as stage comedy. It is in their eyes. I believe the legend.

I see Snoop on the the TV in Chalchuapa. What is he doing? I wanna rock? Really? What is that video about man?

If I wanted out, where would I go? Where do I go from here? There are no clean breaks here.

REGIONAL SECURITY MEETING

We are at our quarterly security meeting

Talking about how El Salvador is fucked with

Gangs and extorsions and a people so scared that every time I go to pueblo to buy tomatoes they tell me to be careful.

And we are in a nice gated-community beside a pool and then a young girl, 13, 14, climbs out

Wet, her hair and the backs of her legs and her whole body glistening.

Suddenly I am in Lawrence, Kansas again in the community pool with lots of pretty girls in the middle of August, text messages and cheap perfume and ice cream.

Or in Michigan at 7th grade swim team practice, scared and scrawny at 5:30 in the morning, a breakfast of instant oatmeal and OJ.

Or in California with my dad tired and nostalgic

Or in Washington cold and drunk off of plastic bladders of wine, huddling around a campfire with my buddy George.

Now, days later, my twisted mind runs circles. I can´t think of anything besides that girl, the backs of her knees, her bare feet, and how grateful I am for her. Fuck these gangs, hit men. I just need a pool to feel safe, happy, warm. To feel. The goal is to feel again, to feel something besides fear, to get these druggies and crooks off my back. Let them slide. I am wet with the water already.

PREGNANT

She sings softly, a stupid pop song

Thinking I´m not here.

She is pregnant. The girlfriend of my host brother, age 17, is pregnant.

She has moved in, become pregnant, and now sings stupid songs outside my room.

I wonder. Because here the rule is,

Don´t talk about it,

We just conform and accept,

Because there is nothing to say

But I am slightly angered by this,

Their so-typical decision to have a child young

Or maybe it was an accident? Lack of planning?

Maybe it is one more hard piece of evidence that life here presents few options and many, with that in mind, see no reason to study, work, or strive for anything. So she will have a baby, a screaming, crying baby who will do these things right next to me. Because?

There is nothing else left to do. That´s the reality, Tim. NO. It´s part of it, but not it.

Can we at least fucking talk about this? When did I vote? When did I get something to say? Why can´t we just say this is a bad idea, just for evidence, just to know and say so?

SILK

Walking to the church service held outside close to my home.

Singing, clapping, it is dark already and the village women have already made

Their little fires in a circle

Selling yuca, pupusas, pasteles, and the smoke from these fires

Drifts up up up above to the wide gigantic conacaste tree

Expanding into the branches, reaching

Blurring the line between here and there,

Aquí y allá, planet and void, space and heaven, and

I feel as if I am walking on a strong thin line of silk, a poem

Connecting all I know and am and am not and don´t and will.

REMESAS

We will, with the help of the Money her son sends us from New Mexico, put a new roof on our house. Metal instead of wood, plastic instead of clay, no more tile. We will use duralita, a corrugated material which is $1.75 the square meter. No cracks, no seperate parts. Tile has been around for hundreds of years, the only roof we have known, besides grass. Now our son who has a girlfriend and a job and who will probably never come back it seems like, well, we will put on a new roof.

The first thing we did was buy a TV. Then a sound system. Then we put three more rooms on the house, one where I sleep, the other, where four others sleep, soon to be five because his brother´s girlfriend is pregnant. Can we talk about this please???

The roof will be nice. No more raindrops or wood or replacing tile. It will be nice. Thanks to her lost son, this ghost, this son of phone calls and 9-digit bank codes and street addresses and towns we don´t remember or bother to know anymore. We lost track. Thanks to him. Metal instead of wood, plastic instead of clay, reminders he´s there to stay.