Gringa

I went to the laundromat tonight to try to address the three weeks of backlog that's been spilling out of my bedroom closet. It's always a humbling experience. Reality check - a little dose of what it's like to be in the minority - me in all my gringa glory and painfully embarassed by my four loads of laundry, enough for family not to mention the closetful back at the apartment. Me and my stuff were intruding, though perhaps if I were less shy I could get a lesson or two in spanish - but I'm too busy judging myself in other's eyes.

And to think, today's work was all about priorities - sending another letter up to the Hill about the immorality of the President's budget which will likely be ignored becuase it didn't include any biblical references to sexual behavior, the seeming prerequisite for faith language to be taken seriously. Yes, cynicism. And then cursing the senators as they failed again to raise the minimum wage - bless them, four Republicans actually voted in favor. But here I sit with my guilt, now wondering how little those who made all the clothes actually made. The world I would create, but don't even live in myself....

Sueños como una realidad
que exista fuera de su alcance
Un pensamiento por Dios
y otro por el mundo
Ojos desconocidos en el espejo
me llaman a escoger

The moral of the story - the heart of christianity lies far from my four loads of laundry.

The music - Cordova by Amy Ray