Telenovelas, Small Miracles, and Post-Cartum Depression

Telenovelas
Remember this: If you’re ever feeling down and want to have a gut-busting laugh, watch a telenovela. It will have you rollin. A telenovela is basically a Spanish-language soap opera. But these shows take ‘soap opera’ to the next level. In every scene, someone is crying, fighting, having a nervous breakdown . . . it’s like uberdrama. I was hanging with some Panamanian friends of mine, and I was over there watching Univision with them. This novela was on called “Mundo de Fieras” or, “World of Beasts.” lol. It was great. The main lady in the show is just nuts . . . she pulls a gun on her husband and shot at him, first of all. But the most hilarious part in that episode was this dude with his leg all wrapped up, hobbling around on a cane who was threatening the lady to tell her husband about her infidelity. I asked my friends what happened to the dude, and they told me that she shot him too. Homegirl just goes around shooting guys she gets fed up with. There was even a scene where the lady’s father (the lady doesn’t know this man is her father—yet another dramatic twist) says to himself, “Necesita ayuda profesional urgentemente.” She needs professional help badly. Understatement of the year.

Small Miracles
Okay, so I’m applying to graduate school. To make a long story short, one of my former professors is notoriously absent-minded, never checks his email, and is always impossible to catch up with. He’s a nice guy, but you have to basically beat down his door to get anything from him. Homeboy has a paper of mine that I wrote in Spain (he used some of my Spain stuff for his research), and I really, really wanted to use that paper to turn in as a writing sample to the program I’m applying to. I misplaced whatever floppy disk I’d saved it on (now, two years ago), and so the hard copy he had was my only hope. I emailed my boy at least a gazillion times, and left voice mail messages, but to no avail. I was determined, so I eventually pleaded with his office assistant to take up my cause. In the end, they found the paper! Yes! So it’s in the mail to me now. (Thank God I didn’t have to take a road trip up to Tuscaloosa to beg for a paper I wrote. lol.) Persistence pays off, yes, indeed.

Post-Cartum Depression
I bought a new car. Well, it’s new to me. It’s a 2005 Hyundai Elantra. I sold the 97 Mazda 626 to my bro. We went up to the probate office to get all the legal business straightened out, and in the end, I turned over the keys to him. But upon doing so, I felt a pang in my heart. I almost wish I hadn’t sold it to him. That car was my baby. I paid that little darling off with my hard earned money. It took me places. It was there for me. It was my road dawg. Literally. Even though I had to put her in the shop a time or two, she never broke down on me. She never left me stranded on the side of the road. I experienced so many things with that car. I knew her little quirks, the little imperfections that set in on a car with over 125,000 miles. But I was comfortable in it, I leaned into it and embraced it, I trusted it. I mean, it was a part of my life. Now, I have to get used to this little new(er) thing. I miss my old baby already. I never thought letting go of my old, mile-burdened, paint-peeling car would perturb me. It was almost like breaking up with someone you still love (though not nearly as painful). But you know, in the end, it was for the best.