I'll be posting a full recap soon and I may or may not have pictures... ;)

Stay tuned...

Labels: Date Lab

For the past four years, BFF Matt and I have made it a tradition of sorts to always buy the same cell. We both started with the V60i and then switched to the Samsung A670. A few nights ago he called me all excited.

"I want to tell you about our new phone..."

"Oooh!" I squealed, realizing that it was almost time to upgrade. "Which one are we getting?"

"It's called... "The Chocolate," he said in an unusually deep voice.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Matt?" I asked.

"No," he said, still in the sexy voice. "It's just the phone...it has that effect..."

I was laying, as I usually am, on the couch with my laptop balanced against my thighs.

"One sec," I said as I typed the words "Verizon Chocolate" into the search bar. I clicked the link for the official Chocolate page. The Flash started up, a shiny black and red phone twirled around while Goldfrapp pulsed in the background

"Ohhhh," I whispered. "I want it...."

"I know..."

I'm in love with this phone.

Only slightly longer than a credit card and about twice the width of a tube of blood red lipstick, the LG 8500 is all black and sleek. It features a glowing red touch sensitive keypad that allows users to browse, preview, download and play mp3s over Verizon's broadband network or in the V CAST Music online store. A 2GB microSD card stores up to 1,000 mp3 files. The number pad stays hidden until you slide it out from below like a little electronic trundle bed. I've always preferred the clamshell style, but I think I could quickly get used to this one.

The ad that Verizon has out for it could not be more suggestive. A pool of molten dark chocolate pulses and spikes to the beat of Goldfrapp's Strict Machine (the quintessential gadget lust song). The phone slowly rises out of the pool, chocolate slipping down the edges to reveal the various features: mp3 player, video screen, and iPod-like navigation wheel. "Everybody loves chocolate," the announcer says as the phone is wrapped in foil like a candy bar.

The reviews, which I've spent quite a bit of time reading, seem mixed. CNET ranks it at a 7.0, but the Wall Street Journal's Walter Mossberg spent quite a bit of time panning the touch-sensitive buttons and music player capabilities. Nicholas Deleon, over at Gizmodo, wrote a bit of a rant about the aforementioned buttons, saying that they froze up on him one night, leaving him unable to send out a late night text message to a lady friend. I'm taking his review with a grain of salt, however, as I suspect it was mostly a kneejerk reaction to a thwarted booty call.

I hadn't actually seen the Chocolate in real (as opposed to virtual) life until Friday afternoon when, on the bus home from work, a man sat down next to me holding it in his hand. I watched him check and send a text message, and finally leaned over and asked him if that was the LG Chocolate. He seemed surprised that I'd noticed it, but nodded and held it up. He must have recognized the lusty look in my eyes because he held it out to me and told me I could play with it if I wanted. I took it in my hands and noticed that the menu was in Danish. It was the original model that came out in Asia and Europe several months ago, which has a square navigation ring, unlike the round iPod-like one on the US version. He said he'd had it since March (he was visiting from Denmark) and that he'd never had any problems with it. He showed me how to work the touch-sensitive buttons and showed me some of the Flash wallpapers (I recently read in the Macromedia newsletter I get every week that this is one of the only phones currently out in the US which supports Flash Lite). When I reached my stop I reluctantly handed it back to him and got off the bus even more smitten than I was before.

One thing I don't understand is why the phone isn't available in brown. I read that it's being released in hot pink and white in Korea and there is also an edition with gold trim, (none of which, big surprise, are available in the US) but no plans to release a brown one yet. I guess if I really wanted a brown phone I could wait until the other model I've been dreaming about, the Sony Ericsson K800i in "Allure Brown" makes it to the US. But that will probably never happen, and I suppose that dark chocolate is ultimately more satisfying than milk chocolate anyway...

I checked my account this morning and think that I still have about a month or so before I can upgrade on my New Every Two plan, but I'm going to drop by the Verizon store near my office tomorrow to see what my options are. I've pretty much worked myself up to the point where I just might spontaneously combust if I don't get this phone soon...

Labels: BFF Matt, Gadgets, Nerdiness, techy

As I'm sure you've been able to surmise, I'm a little bit net obsessed. Anytime there is a new feature or product, I'll read all about it and spend time playing with it online. I'm particularly fond of Google's "Google Labs" section, which posts all their current product prototypes and lets you try them out and offer feedback. I'm also a little bit nuts about "beta versions." Anytime there is a beta version out, I'm quick to hit upgrade. For things like chat clients or computer games, this is never really an issue. Yeah, there are usually a few bugs, but it's never that big a deal.

Not so with Blogger beta...

I logged on the other day and was excited to find out that Blogger was offering a switch to its new beta version. The new Blogger offers a tagging option, which I've long wanted to try out, and several additional new features. I got all excited, and without stopping to check out the list of known errors, I hit upgrade and switched versions.

And then I realized that I shouldn't have done that yet...

The tags feature, which was the whole reason motivating my switch, is only available with the new "layouts" feature, which allows non-programmers to customize and design their templates without any knowledge of CSS or HTML. The problem, is that for those of us who coded our templates from scratch, there is no raw HTML editing feature available in the new Beta version. This means that, for now, I can't add tags without losing my entire stylesheet.

Then I read that users who are still using the old Blogger can't sign on and leave comments on the new Blogger, unless they upgrade or use the "anonymous" or "other" options. Photos aren't uploading properly and there appears to be an issue with the way the RSS feeds are working. The new version isn't really supported on Safari or Opera, and the target="_blank" code doesn't always work properly.

I'm sure Google/Blogger will get these problems fixed quickly enough, but until then I suppose I'll just have to deal with it...

I know many of you have been wondering what happened with my Date Lab date. Well I hadn't written anything about it because for a while I wasn't even sure what was going on. I had been told that the date would take place sometime near the end of last week, but the editors never got back to me.

For a while there I thought that I'd been stood-up by the nation's second-largest newspaper and had a snarky post all set to go about that, but an e-mail I received late yesterday has brought to light new information. My date is set for sometime early next week. I know the time, place, and first name of my "date companion." I'm not going to say anything else about it until after the date, however. I think that would be smarter in terms of privacy, safety, etc...

Now there are three things on my mind:

1.) Will I make it to the date day without freaking out and heading for the border (north/south...pick one)? This remains to be seen...

2) Has he read this blog? I'm almost positive that he must have. The Washington Post uses a Technorati feature that links back to any blogs discussing any of their articles. I'm pretty much one of only a couple blogs in town talking about Date Lab on a fairly consistent basis. I get numerous hits from readers who link to me from the Post site. Plus, if you Google the phrase "Washington Post Date Lab," my blog appears on the first page. At any rate, I'm sure it will be interesting to find out...

3)What do I wear? I have no clue...

Thoughts? Suggestions?

Labels: Date Lab, dating

I'd just like to note that I'm more than a little upset about this whole Pluto demotion business. It was announced in Prague yesterday that the International Astronomical Union stripped Pluto of the planetary status it has held since its discovery in 1930. The new rules define a planet as a celestial body that is in orbit around the sun, has sufficient mass to assume a nearly round shape, and has cleared the area around its orbit. Pluto is automatically disqualified because its orbit overlaps with Neptune's so it's now being classified as a "dwarf planet."

It weirds me out a little that my future children will never think of Pluto as a planet. And that they may even laugh at us for thinking that...the way that we kind of laugh at our parents for believing the things they did 40 years ago. I understand that science is ever changing, but still it's sort of unnerving to know that what you once believed to be true will someday be little more than a two sentence footnote in a 4th grade science textbook.

Wikipedia has already updated its Pluto entry, noting that "Pluto is an astronomical object in the solar system and the prototype of a yet to be named family of Trans-Neptunian objects. From its discovery in 1930 until 2006 it was considered the ninth and smallest of the planets of the Solar System, both by the International Astronomical Union (IAU) and the general public. After much debate, the IAU decided on Aug. 24, 2006, to reclassify Pluto as a dwarf planet, requiring that a planet must 'clear the neighbourhood around its orbit.'" And this, I believe, has to be the best Pluto-related headline I've come across so far...

And so that's that, I guess...at least until the next discovery...

Labels: news

Two of my very best girls, BFF Vanessa and BFF Moe, have recently entered the blogosphere.

BFF Vanessa is a relative novice when it comes to blogging and has only managed to get a couple entries up there. I'm hoping that this link and the inevitable deluge of hits will motivate her to keep it up. Check out her thoughts over at Pink Lady.

Now it's a bit misleading when I say that BFF Moe is new to the blogosphere, as she has been blogging for several years now. This fellow Jersey girl is actually the one that got me started way back in 2001 with my first blog: "Nandita's Scribbles." The service we used shut down sometime in 2003, and she and I lost hundreds and hundreds of entries. She started up again on MySpace, but recently transferred over to Blogger on my urging. Her stuff is good. I'm talking damn good... And those of you who want to find out more about me should definitely check out her archives as she has the charmingly annoying habit of revealing way too much about my personal affairs in her entries: The Garden State of Euphoria

I'm also planning on adding a separate roll of DC Blogger links. I've mentioned before that DC has an incredible blogging community. There are so many great writers and I definitely want to give props to those that I read and enjoy on a regular basis.

[note to self: did I really just use the phrase "give props"?]


Administrative sidenote:
I know that I've been a bit remiss about posting over the last week. Things have been very busy lately, but know that I have a couple good posts simmering and will serve them up shortly. Also, I've arranged to have a very special guest blogger submit an entry about the kick-ass J5 show we attended on Monday night. I'm posting this here so that he'll feel compelled to get it done--and if he doesn't, I expect you all to shower him with public vitriol...

Labels: Administrative, friends

“Don’t move,” she says. Her brown eyes darken as she studies the lines of my face. I shift slightly on my side and focus on the shadows behind her head. Portishead vamps softly in the background. Her pencil strokes and scratches along the page.

It’s easy to sit still these days. There’s an old movie reel in my mind, flickering through scene by scene: The click of heels. A remembered kiss. A broken glass. The scent of clean laundry. The back of his neck. Dishes…dishes…must do dishes. How many cigarettes do I have left? Why did I have to say that…?

I can feel my expression change with each thought. Lips part, muscles stretch into a smile, a slight blush, a frown. I think about something and my eyes start to well. I quickly blink it away wondering if she noticed.

My best friend was here for the weekend. She’s leaving in an hour but wanted to sketch me first. This trip was something we both needed—time together where we could just be—sit in silence, understanding each other, no explanations.

And yet, it wasn’t easy. It’s never easy with us. We’ve been living in our heads since we were girls—sitting on the sidelines, crafting ideal lives from things we’d read in novels, seen in movies, heard in songs… We thought—think—of ourselves as artists. It’s our justification for why we’re just a little bit different, a little bit more confused than the rest…

I’ve always thought of her as my other half: a little quieter, a little more practical, a little less impulsive. In high school, she and I used to call each other “IG.” It was short for Ideal Guy, and it came from the idea that we each pictured our ideal mates as male versions of each other. She was my IG and I was hers.

I got mad at her this morning as we walked down the street to get brunch. You see, she met the love of her life four years ago. Sara and I were with her that night, and from the beginning she fought it. For months she pushed him away and questioned her feelings, too scared to admit that this person was really the one for her. Until she realized that he was…I still remember the night she called me and said excitedly, “He’s the IG, Ale…I found him…”

But she’s unsure again. Restless. It’s terrifying meeting the love of your life when you’re only 18. She explains to me that even though she knows she’s going to spend the rest of her life with him, she’s scared. She’s worried that she may have missed out on something. “I never had the chance to be like you…to just be free…you can date anyone you want, do whatever you want. You have so much fun. Your whole life isn’t already decided…”

I felt my face grow warm as she said this. Something ached inside and my voice cracked as I spoke: “What you two have is the one thing that I want more than anything in this world. I would trade all of it—all of it—for just a little bit of that.”

As the words came out, I realized just how true they were. I’ve never had an anniversary. I never had someone to come home to. No one has ever been in love with me. My longest “real” relationship was just under five months and that was nearly four years ago.

“I’m tired,” I told her. “I’m tired of disappointments. It chips away at you… You give a little bit of yourself each time until it just starts to feel like nothing or no one will ever be able to fill that hole. I may have a lot of great stories, but it really doesn’t add up to much in the end.”

She thought for a moment and said, “Yes, but you only say that because you don’t know what it’s like to have always been in a relationship”

“And you say that because you don’t know what it’s like to have never been in one…”

We were silent for a while, each thinking about the other’s situation. Each realizing that we would never fully comprehend. I know she’s in pain. I know she’s scared. But it’s still hard for me to really understand what she is feeling. It felt like we were looking at each other from opposite sides of the mirror.

“I just think that you’re one of the lucky ones,” I said finally. “What you guys have is so rare and so beautiful…I just don’t want you two to risk it for something that I know from experience isn’t worth it…”

We sat in silence for most of the meal. I watched people walk by, sipped my tea, and thought.

“It’ll all work out,” one of us said at one point. We nodded, but a mood had set. We stayed mostly quiet as we paid the bill and walked back up to my apartment.

__________

“Can I see it?” I ask her when she finally puts her pencil down. My neck is stiff from holding the pose for so long. She hands me the sketch book and I study it for a moment. A pair of large dark eyes stare back at me from the paper.

“It doesn’t really look very much like me,” I tell her after a couple seconds.

“Yes it does,” she says. "You just can’t tell because it’s of you.”

I look at the sketch again. I recognize bits and pieces, but as hard as I try, I just can’t see what she sees…

Labels: dating, friends, life decisions

I received yet another e-mail from the Washington Post Date Lab editor yesterday. This time I was asked to sign a publicity/liability release. Because of the nature of my job, I spend a great deal of time reading, researching, and writing about liability concerns and waivers (trust me, it's a lot more fun than it sounds). Naturally, whenever I'm asked to sign a release of some kind, I'm sure to read it over carefully--more out of a sense of curiosity and habit, than any kind of responsibility.

The release the Post sent over was a pretty standard one. It struck me, as I worked my way through the various clauses, that anytime we decide to go on a date, we are essentially assuming a series of risks. There may not be an affidavit to sign or a lawyer present (although in my case, there usually is), but any seasoned dater knows the risks, losses, expenses, and potential harm--both physical and emotional--that may come from the experience. Dating, for all intents and purposes, is risky behavior. Whether it's an acceptable, reasonable risk is for each of us to determine, but what greater risk is there than taking one's self--essentially one's most valuable asset--and placing it on the line to silently ask two of the most important questions we'll ever ask: Am I who you want? Are you who I want?

My initial anxiety about this date has eased considerably in the past day or so. I suspect that it's because as of late I've become a bit of a forensic naval-gazer. I've taken to breaking down and analyzing all my actions with the same fervor that I once reserved for the literary works of James Joyce. I'm obsessed with finding connections, patterns, motifs, and underlying themes. I've noticed that up until now, my approach to dating centered on that first question (am I who you want), but neglected the second (are you who I want). Before going out I'd primp, worry, and wonder if I was pretty enough, thin enough, clever enough--but then I'd get to the restaurant, bar, theater, wherever, and find that it didn't matter if I was all of the above because it turned out that he wasn't who I wanted.

The thing is, that for all my confusion about where I want to live and work, the one thing that I am sure of is the kind of man that I want a relationship with. It isn't as if I approach dates with a strict rubric of attributes, skills, and interests that I need met--it's more of a feeling, the recognition of a combination of qualities, which I've learned--through trial and error--are important to me. And while I feel lucky that I know this already, I also understand that it takes dating to a different level. It seems as if I can no longer just date for the sake of dating. I'm officially looking for something--for someone. I'm not naive enough to expect fireworks and love at first sight, but I do know what I don't want and what I'm no longer willing to waste my time on.

And is this knowledge a liability when it comes to dating? Absolutely. Whereas a couple years ago I had no trouble seeing several guys at the same time and dating all over the map, now the thrill in that is gone. I've become blase about the whole thing. I'll go on one or two dates and then pull a disappearing act. It's not as if the guys I've been seeing lately aren't great, because they all are in their own way--they're just not for me. At least not right now... And that can lead to loneliness, because the only thing more difficult than not knowing what you want, is knowing what you want, but not being able to find it--or finding it and not being able to have it.

But I'm confident that I will meet this person someday, and until then all that I can do is try to be as honest as I can be with myself and with my date companions (as the Post calls them). And I will go on this date and I will assume all risks associated with it (even that of "potential public ridicule") and I will faithfully report back to you all. I must admit that I am incredibly curious to see who they picked out for me based on my completely ridiculous answers to those completely ridiculous questions.

For those of you just tuning in...

And a link to the latest Date Lab article...

Labels: Date Lab, dating

What did I get myself into?

That's what I've been asking myself since yesterday around 6pm when I received the following e-mail from one of the editors at The Washington Post:

Alejandra:

Just touching base to see if you're free sometime next week to go on a blind date for our Date Lab feature. Let me know - I think the date would be toward the middle/end of the week.

Thanks,
Jill

Oh boy...now I'm a little nervous. As you may know, I first read about this feature in late May/early June. I was curious so I e-mailed to find out more information. They sent me a questionnaire to fill out--which I did--and then I was told to "be patient." In the meantime there was a little bit of back and forth when they discovered my blog, but up until now it had been total silence. I sort of relaxed about it, figuring that they either decided not to match me or were just unable to.

But then I got this e-mail.

I responded saying that I am free next week, and to just let me know when and where. And then I promptly started thinking up reasons to back out.

It's time for a bit of a confession readers: I sometimes panic on the follow-through. It only happens occasionally and I generally manage to force myself to go through with it (whatever it is), but there are those few moments of freaked-out "what-the-hell-did-I-agree-to" when I desperately try to come up with a way out. I start crafting incredibly-detailed but totally believable excuses--food poisoning from bad mussels...have to replace the wax ring on my toilet...sudden death of a non-specified relative. The trick is to recycle things that have already happened. As in "hey, if I got food poisoning last summer...I could just as easily get it today." I'll run through the excuses in my head until I reach a point where it's either too late or where the excuses have just become so absurd that the event in question no longer seems quite so daunting.

My friends all know this about me. It's the reason why I'll get 6 and 7 calls the day that I have plans with them. "You're still coming, right?" They'll ask me. "Of course I am. Really...I promise..." I'll respond, assuring myself just as much as I'm assuring them.

I told my friend about the Date Lab e-mail last night and he laughed and said that it was great. Then after a moment, he added: "You know you have to go...right?"
I sighed. "Yeah...I know...even though I really, really, really want to back out..."
"No," he said. "You're going even if I have to drive you there."
"Ugh...I'm going. I'll go..."

And I will go. I swear...if only for the handful of entertaining blog posts I'm sure to get out of this.

On Friday night I attended the DC Bloggers Happy Hour at Gazuza. It was a bit of a stretch for me as I have an (some might say) irrational fear of "organized events." I'm constantly teasing a friend of mine who attends a lot of these for work.

"Shuffleboard on the lido deck, again?" I'll ask him when he tells me his plans for the evening.

"Shut up," is his usual eloquent response.

But Friday night was my turn on the lido deck. I was a little bit nervous because I didn't know anyone there and wasn't sure who to look out for, so I convinced my friend Sara to come along with me. We arrived just before 9 and the place was packed. I didn't see anyone I recognized from the few pictures on the blogs so we just went straight to the bar and ordered a little courage & tonic (Ketel One, of course). Sara couldn't stay long because she had to work, so I made it my goal to meet someone--anyone--while she was with me. It actually proved a lot easier than I thought as I quickly made friends with an entire bridal party consisting of 1 married bridesmaid and 6 single guys. Sara left to go catch the bus and I sat at the bar smoking my cigarettes and chatting about ninjas with two very clever groomsmen.

Shortly after, I noticed a girl to my left trying to flag down the bartender. She smiled at me and asked "Are you a blogger?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed (probably a bit too excitedly).

I told her that it was my first happy hour and that I didn't know a soul in the room (well, except for that bridal party). She had also come alone and had met a couple people. We talked and exchanged business cards. Her name is Sarah and she runs a blog about media criticism. She introduced me to a couple people who had not only heard of my blog, but apparently read it every day! They asked me if I still was looking for a home for my cat (I am) and complimented me on my glasses. Pretty soon I found myself surrounded by bloggers. I recognized Cookie from her photos, was schoolgirlishly excited to meet Kathryn, and I got into a great conversation with Jeff (whose glasses are totally the boy version of mine), Joe, Drew, and Martin about comic books* and robots--which, trust me, was a lot cooler than it sounds.

Anyway, it was a really great time overall and I'm definitely looking forward to the next one. Kathryn and Cookie did a fantastic job of hosting and making us newbies feel welcome.

A few things:

-I quickly discovered that the drunker one gets, the more desirable a short blog name becomes.

-I love how most people identified each other by their blogger names...as in "That's DC Bachelor over there." It's just like the superhero convention I pictured in my head. I just wish I had a snazzier name...

-I was actually really disappointed that the Aussie didn't make it as I was most excited to meet her in person.

-I'd really like to apologize to the girl that I accidentally branded with my cigarette after V&T number 5. I would have at the time, but I noticed that she and her friend were too busy sighing loudly and shooting me looks from hell. So actually, I take that back. I'm not sorry...you're totally a bitch.

___________

This morning I sat on the couch reading over some of the recaps that other bloggers had posted. Looney was getting ready for work so I told him about the night and read him aloud some of the bits that mentioned me.

He shook his head and said, "Comic books? Ninjas? You know Alejandra, you really are the wet dream of a very specific genre of male..."

I looked up from my computer, smiled, and said, "Yeah...I totally am..."


*you've groomed me well, anonymous

Labels: blogging, happy hour, reviews

My friend Looney has been crashing on my couch for the past week while waiting for his new apartment to be ready. I've lived sans roommate for 2.5 of the past 3 years, so it's always a little bit of an adjustment when I have a guest stay for more than just one night. I'm forced to set aside my secret single girl behavior, which (in the summer at least) mostly involves lounging on my couch in various states of undress whilst blasting Portishead, sucking on sugar-free Popsicles, and compulsively surfing the net.

But if there is anyone for whom I don't mind lowering the volume and throwing on a t-shirt, it's definitely Looney. He's one of my freshman year friends--along with BFF Matt, Jeremy, Will, Ilana, Alaina, Jeff, and Pete. Our friendships were forged in those first few weeks of college when proximity equals instant intimacy. We've been through it all together, so I suppose it's only natural how quickly we fell into a pattern of comfortable domesticity. He's learned that I brush my teeth in the shower and that I wake up with an almost absurd mass of tangled hair every morning. I've learned that he uses spray deoderant and wears the same pants all the time. We both really love Ginger-Ale, ice cream, and The Family Guy (although he insists that I keep the volume on too high--I don't).

Last week was a bit of a turbulant one--for him, professionally; for me, personally--and I must admit that it was really nice to have someone to come home to. We both tend to work late, so we'd meet around 8, eat dinner, and then sprawl out on the couch sharing vices, ice cream, and stories about our day. He has a penchant for long-windedness and I for Proustian detail, so we get along well in that respect. And we're close enough to recognize when the other wants advice or would really just rather vent for a bit.

I sometimes worry that living alone for so long has made me a little bit selfish. I've gotten used to only answering to myself. If I don't feel like cooking--I don't. If I want to stay up all night--I do. I can wear (or not wear) whatever I want. I listen to obnoxiously repetitive electronica while I mop. I drink milk straight from the carton. I use too much salt. I pretend I'm Ella Fitzgerald while I'm in the shower (occasionally, I'll even scat). After said shower, I'll spend about 30-60 minutes in my towel checking e-mail, putting on lotion, and dripping water all over everything. I don't recycle. I leave the lights off all day. I light candles and smoke cigarettes in bed (fire hazard--I know).

What I find most interesting is the fact it's not until I can't do them anymore (when I'm visiting home or have a guest) that I realize just how important these little quirks are to me. I even get a little bit cranky--not a lot, but there is a definite tinge of crankiness. I wonder how much I'll have to compromise once I decide to get married or move in with someone. (Not that this is exactly on the radar yet...in fact, I don't believe said radar has been invented yet. At the very least, it's still in the box and needs to be charged.) I realize that the trade-off will eventually be worth it, but I'm also realizing that these years of single girl life, while lonely at times, can be pretty fantastic. I'm really glad that I have the opportunity to experience this now, with all its highs and lows.

Looney is moving into his apartment on Tuesday so our time as roommates is coming to an end. While it will be nice to have the place to myself, I think I'll definitely miss him. His new place is just around the corner, though, so at least I know that our smoky evening bitch sessions are just a couple minutes away...

Labels: friends

Hey kids, I realize I've been missing in action for a couple days. I promise that I'll be back soon (perhaps even later today) to regale you with more of my delightful antics, but until then I'd like to bring something very important to your attention.

Looney, one of my very dear friends, works for an organization whose sole purpose is to help disadvantaged Latino students succeed in high school and be accepted into college. LNESC has been helping students in 17 different metropolitan areas for over thirty years, but at the end of this month they will be forced to close their doors due to federal budget cuts.

Now I know that most of you are bored at work or school (or Teach for America training) and so what better way to distract yourselves than by taking a moment to contact your members of Congress as well as the Secretary of Education, Margaret Spellings, and let them know that Latino students are important and that LNESC should be fully funded. Please visit www.savelnesc.org for more information.

If enough pressure is brought to bear, I am sure we can avoid leaving over 12,000 students out in the cold and the layoff of 70 hardworking counselors.

Thanks so much...

Labels: news