Welcome to America

I’m bringing it over a level today.

Usually my blog is a space to bring laughter and WTH as I confesd the random ideas and experiences that I have encountered.

But something odd but cool happened a few days ago and I haven’t really brought it up, because I don’t know how to have a conversation about it without making people feel weird, or expecting them to laugh.

[That’s a lie. I put it on SnapChat, because everything is easier for me to talk about on The Snap]

So, my dad immigrated from Africa long, long ago. LONG ago. Longago.

His parents immigrated to Africa from India.

I immigrated to America from my mom’s loins.

She was born and raised here.

My hair is lighter these days, thanks to a li’l place called a salon, so people don’t ask much about my ethnicity anymore until they hear my [super cool] last name.

We all have our Thing that we struggled with as tweens/teens. Mine was my skin and hair. It made me feel more self-conscious about how I present myself today. I make jokes about my appearance now before others can… I’m realizing people aren’t really moved to make the jokes that I jump to make.

YOU: WHY ARE YOU SHARING THIS? WHERE IS YOUR FUNNY?!

ME: SIMMER!

So dad visited me a few days ago. He’s a dapper man. It’s hard to place his (our) ethnicity; the only tell that maybe he wasn’t born in America is his super-proper speech.

We were returning to the car at the grocery store and an older man stopped us and asked, “Are you two from the middle east?”

My first inner response was defense. Because of my ambiguous looks (see drawing in header), typically the rude remarks were brought on by whomever people feared at that time.

Go home!

Scrub your skin!

Stop going out in the sun!

I heard your parents are spies; no one wants to be your friend (ok. I was 10 with that one. Probably should have thought it was cool)

And usually just a glare and an, “Ew.”

So I was scared about what daggers this man was going to shoot.

My dad told him he’s from India.

Side note: It’s The Hardest to say, “Well, my last name is Portuguese, but my family is from Africa, but they’re actually Indians… no not Native American.”

People start snoring after, “Portu…”

The man nodded at us and said, “Welcome to America.”

I don’t want readers to laugh here. That’s why I haven’t told the story in person. 

Honestly, first, I still felt a defensive need to laugh. 

Welcome to America? It’s been over 40 years. More than half dad’s life. 

I was born here.

Then I took a step back when we got in the car. The (few, but effective) times I’ve been teased, the climate in our country right now with negativity hitting immigrants in a way I’ve never witnessed… 

The man was offering an olive branch.

“Welcome to America,” he said.

“Thank you, Sir.” My dad responded. “That was really kind.”

It takes one drop of rain to make a ripple in a puddle.

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The Time I Wasn’t Kidnapped

I was just talking to my roommate (Hi, Mom!) about Stranger Danger (note to self: Add “Stranger Danger” to list of possible band names) and how she prepared her children to keep an eye out for Bad Strangers.

My brothers are several years older than me, so I don’t really know their experiences with strangers, how they knew when someone was out to get them, or when someone was just being friendly.

Actually, I have heard stories, but this blog is all about Continue reading “The Time I Wasn’t Kidnapped”

Job Hunting? Don’t Not Do This

I start a second job this coming week. I’m pretty pumped.

Also, I’m very confused.

If for some reason you don’t stalk me and haven’t found a way to read every comment I ever write on other people’s pages, then you might not be aware that within one year (2014-2015), I sent about 100 resumes and had about 90 interviews. I had actually started to write a blog post about it so I could tell the humorous stories from those rejections, but it turns out it’s still a downer to talk about in detail. Maybe I’m over 45 rejections and need another year to move on from the other 45.

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Did I just make this awkward? I made this weird.

Somehow, my current teaching position just came to me. Continue reading “Job Hunting? Don’t Not Do This”

What’s in Your Bag?

Before I begin, I really don’t think this post has to be gender-specific, which is why I called this “What’s in Your Bag” and not “What’s in Your Purse” or “What’s in Your Murse.”

I have puh-lenty of male friends who carry messenger bags, laptop bags, recyclable grocery bags, and bags shaped like puppies.

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Ok. I’m lying about the last one. But how badly does your inner 8-year-old want one?

I’m not even sure this is limited to bags. I think what I’m about to discuss has pertained to my desk drawers at work and certainly to That One Junk Drawer I know we all have, so don’t pretend your home doesn’t have one. Sometimes, you just have to toss a bobby pin in the Junk Drawer in case a situation arises and you need it in that room.

But today, we are gathered here to talk about what the dickens ends up in my purse and why. Continue reading “What’s in Your Bag?”

I just want to blogor my stories

I was sad because my computer doesn’t have a painting program that is so sophisticated as Microsoft Paint. If I want to use such a thing to make a cartoon like the one gracing the top of this gorgeous blog, I have to walk 60 feet all the way to the other side of the house and use the desktop computer. And, gosh. I just have to weigh my options. First of all, my room is where my office is located, which I believe we established in the blog about how I’m slowly losing my people skills. What if I want to look up and stare at Continue reading “I just want to blogor my stories”

I Forgot How to People

November was rough.

I work remotely in the education scene and November is when things really start to pick up. A gal finishes grading midterms, reviews students’ rough drafts, and prepares for the heavy fall of approximately 1,000 pages of essays.

I had loaded up on nourishing snacks that served as brain food in graduate school. I figured if they helped me get through as a student, they ought to help as an educator. These include but are not limited to jalapeño chips, Pepsi, Snickers, and mixed nuts (haha, I said nuts).

My office is located in the southwesternmost corner of my bedroom. At the beginning of the month, things went as they typically do. I sat at my desk, and graded like a normal adult might. In fact, it was as I imagined my professors did once upon a time. I wore normal clothes that suggested that I might be an adult. This means that they were clean, my pants matched my top, Continue reading “I Forgot How to People”