December 24, 1995 - Christmas Eve

Today I salted my burrito. I don't know why I never tried this before. Perhaps it's because I'm not sure whether salt shakers are authentically Mexican.

I find the results are mixed. If one salts the top of the burrito, the tiny crystals slide off of the tortilla and drift onto the plate, forming quite a number of small foothills and sandy tracks. It's very likely that salsa, with its viscous and soggy nature, was created specifically to circumvent this tendency. I imagine that if I were to open up the burrito and salt the filling, I would have more success. However, I don't like to see the inside of a burrito, as the act of unwrapping and then viewing the innards recalls for me the disembowling of some wormy animal. And of course, I am deathly afraid of worms.

January 8, 1996 - Elvis's Birthday

I continue to experiment with burrito preparation and am disovering a marvel of textures: the turgid burrito skin, the thick oozing beans and crispy tomatoes just underneath! For tonight's dinner, I added a crumbled veggie burger patty and it was delicious! I am the happiest woman on earth!

Perhaps I will send news of my discovery to my aunt. The incredible variety of burrito forms may eventually impress her to change her eating habits.

President's Day, 1996
- An American Day Of Celebration

It's been quite an emotional day of remembering the presidents. There have been so many of them and their time is so short. John Adams in particular is most dear to me, if only because he waited a long time to be elected after attending the First Congress. But I cherish them all, the good and the bad ones... Montgomery, Wilson, JFK, Hoover... They all had their strong points, they were all loved by the people. Except for Richard Nixon whom I will never forgive.

Today I ate cornflakes and milk for breakfast, lemon-lime soda and a bean burrito for supper.

March 15, 1996 - Ides of March

My shift supervisor confronted me about not wearing my hair in a bun. And I swear he was staring at my you-know-whats the whole time. Doesn't he know that I wear my hair down intentionally to cover them? He is such an idiot. He has humiliated me consistently with his cruel remarks about my appearance, assigning me the dirtiest, filthiest work in his dirty filthy kitchen. I am forced to clean up after his grease! Once I had to clean the vent grill; another time he made me sweep his storage room full of insects and rats. And then he throws his dirty dish rags at me! I look into his piggy eyes and I understand why they say we are responsible for our faces.

And then, on top of everything, a rude young man sat in my section today (it was really unlucky--there were plenty of other spaces) and tore open all the sugar packets at table 14! I almost cried when I saw the mess he made. I try to have tolerance for his Generation X (why do they call it that???) but he was so thoughtless. He ordered a chili con carne burrito which is the most disgusting, Americanized item on the menu--a gringo sloppy joe without the seasonings. I have a very progressive attitude about burritos--I believe in the validity of non-traditional fillings--but there is such a thing as an insulting disregard for authenticity and the Mexican spirit. There are cultures besides our own and we needn't empty out our horrible bland stewed tomatoes straight out of the can and then call that enchilada sauce! It's vile!!! I felt ridiculous to set the plate out in front of him as if it were food! Better to bury the stuff!

March 17, 1996 - St. Patrick's Day

I saw that young "con carne" man again at the parade--he waved and smiled as if nothing at all had happened between us, as if he wanted to know me better. But after all the terrible thoughts I had about him, I couldn't bring myself to say anything back. There are opportunities in life which do not repeat themselves. I'm sorry about that.

May 31, 1996 - Memorial Day

I have decided to keep a careful record of my eating habits for the next few months, in order to dicover any hidden patterns, to watch my weight and to preserve something of myself for posterity. Here is today's meal:

Musubi Burrito--Spam and rice

June 1, 1996

Fried Zuchini Burrito

June 2, 1996

Quesadilla with extra cilantro

June 16, 1996

Kitchen Sink Burrito--sort of organic

June 7, 1996

California Burrito--not bad, actually.

June 15, 1996

Breakfast Burrito--with eggs
Bean Burrito--a very good standby

July 4, 1996 - United States Independence Day

Perhaps my record keeping skills are not as good as they could be--I seem to have lost track of the days. In any case, I'm sure I have also eaten chile relleno burritos, fajita burritos, chile verde, thai chicken, stir fry burritos and many more bean burritos than my previous records indicate.

I have been thinking about the con carne man again. It still intrigues me--if he wanted to eat American food, why didn't he order a hamburger or flapjacks instead? And then I was reminded of the idea that we eat burritos to cover the shame of our past, of our true ethnic heritage. We may secretly be tiring of our imperialist tendencies, our over-reliance on technology, the subtle nuissances created by a Confucian philosophy, or a bipolar racial consciousness. Perhaps we are simply rebelling against parents who ignored us at dinner, or the learning of false histories in stultifying classrooms. And yet it is so difficult to escape our habits. I hope the con carne man may someday find what he is looking for.

July 10, 1996

How strange. It's raining very slightly outside the window. This never happens where I live. Perhaps it's the beginning of a storm in New Mexico.