It's my band not yours!

Cacalina (remember my cousin who often pooped her pants) and I when we were kids started a girl group inspired by the  early 90's girl group SWV (Sisters with Voices).  We would practice in the field adjacent to the Forty Flags Motel.  We would play SWV in the background so loudly our voices synced with the music. We had convinced ourselves we sounded just like the actual group. In reality we sounded like dying cats. We thought this could be our saving grace from the roach motel and neglectful parents we grew up with.  We would first make our way to Ed McMahon on Star Search and eventually get a record deal and become famous and tell everyone we hated to suck it. Our dreams were shattered when Cacalina's older sister and my first cousin Antoinetta (we shall call her) decided to take over and stated "I think we should revamp the group and I could be the lead singer". We were thoroughly pissed but somehow let her dictate the group. We now practiced in the living room on top of the coffee table and tried popular dance moves, the Running Man, Roger Rabbit, and Tootsie Roll.  Behind Antoinetta's back we would say how much we hated her and wished she would just get hit by a car or something (we were 9 at the time and had no real understanding of the consequences of someone getting hit by oncoming traffic).  One day as we all practiced our dancing and singing my brothers and uncle Frankie walked in and started to laugh so loudly and hysterically I ran into the bathroom and stayed there for about 10 minutes. Once I came out they pretty much let me have it. The reality of my real singing voice came to light and all the fantasies of jumping a train to make  it to Star Search were shattered since I had no actual musical talent. My meeting with Ed McMahon would never happen nor would be able to tell all the haters to suck it.  Cacalina and I were crushed and Antoinetta decided to move on to boys leaving us in the dust with our barbie dolls and combs we used as microphones. Damn you all to hell! I still sometimes fantasize about singing (with someone else's voice) in front of an audience and flipping the bird after I am done. Here are a couple videos of 90's girl groups we gave our likeness to, mind you we were 9 and 10 year old Mexican girls, one with a pooping problem who was often mistaken for a young boy and the other so shy she ran to the bathroom in any awkward situation (we lived in a motel with a living room and bedroom there were no other rooms to hide in).

Boo Thang

Boo Thang is a simple yet complicated man. He loves strong and hates just as strongly. I sometimes cannot believe how I stumbled upon such a wonderful man who yes thinks I am crazy and often tells me so yet still decided to love me and all my flaws and baggage. One of our first encounters he told me he was half French (a lie) and very sensitive and in tune with his man feelings (also a lie). I later found this out when I tried to make him watch Beaches and also ask about his French background to which he replied "Oh you believed that". He just thought French and Pakistani was more intriguing. I was pretty taken back by that statement since our natural instinct is to believe what a stranger at the time tells us to be true when they are making an introduction. I did think the 'in touch with his feelings' part was a bit overboard at the time. I had to basically back peddle to all my friends about the French part since I was bragging about having some connection to France (I hate the French). What I admire about Boo Thang is his ability to be so calm and relaxed when I am running around like a mad woman about situations that I have no control over such as turning back time. When I wake up late for work (not often I got perfect attendance for the year. Yes I am a complete suck up and ass kisser) and go in to a complete panic and his response is to calm the F-down. It kind of hurts my feelings but is pretty much the snap back to reality check I need at the time. Boo Thang also appreciates his family. I come from what you already know if you read this blog a very dysfunctional family and Boo Thang gets that but is sometimes baffled by the way we treat each other since his family actually gives a sh**. He makes sure to check in with his parents and they also check up on him. He Skypes with them so they can see their grandchild while my family thinks Skype is some sort of military aircraft. Boo Thang is pretty much a mans man and does not take crap from people or let others boss him around (I often wish he let me boss him around). He never raises his voice to get a point across but somehow can convey his anger or frustration with his eyes. He can enjoy the moment without the need to capture it with a photo or post about it on some social networking site. Boo Thang often passes gas after professing his love for me. He enjoys a healthy portioned burrito with quality meat, perfectly toasted toast and baked breads. He's a man with simple request and routine. He just needs his tea first, a smoke, potty time and coffee and toast after and I respect that and learning I need to yield to this routine otherwise both our day is ruined. Our love was truly tested when we experienced the birth of Baby Sophie who was such a horses ass during the birthing process but when Boo Thang looked at his son for the first time he leaned over and kissed me in admiration. I guess you can say I'm the luckiest gal on the block. Love you Boo Thang my baby daddy. 

Oh Snap!

Are we going to see a reemergence of Neo-Soul? Cody Chestnutt thinks so. My Boo Thang is also obsessed with that dude from The Voice Nicolas David so  all signs point to hells yes. Oh Snap!

When I grow up to be a man

My Baby Sophie has already started showing a bit of his personality. I don't know if I should be worried at this point. He definitely knows how to get his point across when he wants food as he spits out his pacifier and grunts loudly demanding food. He also likes to give all his attention to potty time as he silently focuses on pushing out his poop making the most awkward faces imaginable. He totally passes gas with no regard for others around him. When it comes to burping him he completely stiffs up, grunts angrily for us to stop. He sometimes smiles but always on his terms and never on demand as both Boo Thang and I have completely made fools of ourselves jumping around trying to get  one smirk out of him, he usually stares at us blankly.  Baby Sophie has also become more aware of his hands and has started to smack things out of the way he disproves of. I am hoping when he discovers other body parts he respects the social norms. He also has varying grunts, some that tell us he is satisfied, others out of anger and when he is just trying to get a point across and show us who is boss, other grunts sound like he is singing along to a song he only understands. I will attempt to instill respect and values that don't involve hating people based on differences since he himself is a hybrid of differences. I can't wait to see what the future brings for my Baby Sophie I just hope he learns to have some manners.

Welcoming Baby

So it finally happened, I gave birth to a healthy baby boy. For now we will call him Baby Sophie. While I desperately wanted Baby Sophie to come and pretty much tried all home remedies with the exception of castor oil (the poop remedy) I had no clue how difficult the actual labor process could and would be for me. In total 38 hours of labor, two hours of pushing and off I went to get a c-section. A total of four days in the hospital which actually worked out since the nurses were there to help and guide us on the path to parenthood.  The first night home Baby Sophie woke up every hour on the hour and the next day slept in three hour increments and thought we were home free. Last night he decided to be a real jerk. He was grunting, crying and plunging towards his food and even had the nerve to pee towards me and on himself (No manners on this kid). He  made all sorts of poop faces and some we recorded for him to witness later in life. He refused to sleep or eat enough to put him back to sleep. Throughout this ordeal he decided to give us the stank eye, pirate eye, and just awkward dirty looks with no smiles or acknowledgment of us waiting on him hand and foot, what a donkeys behind. Who knew infants could be so selfish. As I watch him sleep so peacefully all I can think of is how this little terror kept me up all night with no sleep and how I wish I could just sleep as he does without a care in the world, pooping, eating, and being held with love, care, and tenderness. Welcome Baby Sophie, Mama and Baba love you.  

The Stank Eye

Anxiously Awaiting Baby

I know everyone one tells you to enjoy this time as you will never get the moment back, but in a world where downloads are instant, dinners take a minute to warm, and friends are readily available at the touch of an Iphone application it is difficult to imagine having to wait for something that cannot be downloaded at the press of a button or tab (I do not own an iphone nor frequent social networking sites to 'Like' people's updates or decipher vague and general statements that include "Ughh" or "Why can't people just be nice"). We are a culture obsessed with instant gratification. I am sure you can understand  my dilemma wanting to have this somewhat foreign thing that has been resting inside my uterus for 9 months out or at least be able to download some application on my cell phone that helps speed up the process. This I understand is something completely out of my control and cannot be manufactured or delivered to my door step unless I order it from China or possibly Amazon. I have walked up steps, drank cumin tea (not recommended for the faint of stomach), tried jumping jacks (because I heard they can fall right out) to no avail. I have decided to give up and pretty much eat anything within hands reach. Today I went for brunch and had a bite of buttermilk pancakes, chocolate chip pancakes, a Dutch Baby, chicken apple sausage, eggs, and I think a salad and a bite of someones chicken sandwich. The nights for now will continue to be uncomfortable filled with drool, night sweats and constant struggles to literally roll out of bed to frequent the bathroom. I will continue to try home remedies like eating pineapple, papaya, cumin tea, and walking up and down stairs endlessly in hopes of  going into what I heard is quite possibly the most painful experience a woman can ever endure but would venture blindly at the reach of a button if the option existed. Here is a song I would like to share that has nothing to do with labor but my father in law shared this and cannot get the song out of my head and it has eased a little anxiety for the time being. Enjoy! Co-Co Corina (I miss you dearly).

Corrina, Corrina.

As I become a mother I cannot help to think of mine, Corrina. She was strong, confident, loud, angry, sweet, shy, kindhearted all at once.  Corrina encompassed so many moods and personalities at times it was difficult to know which Corrina you were going to get. but this was the excitement of it all being a daughter of such a dynamic human being. For many years I viewed Corrina through this singular microscope. She simply scared the hell out of me.  She was usually intoxicated and probably breaking down windows and asking for change. I didn't realize she was masking much pain and hurt she experienced through childhood and in her adult life. She would often come to the Forty Flags (The roach motel I grew up) fully intoxicated demanding to have her children back. Police would often be called and they would sometimes ask if we wanted to go with our clearly intoxicated mother. I am not sure if there were doing this make her shut up or maybe it was the fact that they were also concerned a group of children who were clearly high off soda, candy and chili cheese hotdogs from the local 7-11 and were living in a roach motel in a small room. As I got older I got to see how complex of a person Corrina was. While she had her demons she also was one of the kindest people you would ever encounter. She would sometimes bring families over for dinner uninvited because they had no food or she would remember events when everyone else forgot, she would yell at people who were being jerks to others and to yell at complete strangers takes courage. I once saw her take a weapon from a man and beat him with it as she was protecting another. She would also share her talent for dance and we would all praise her natural grace as she glided across the floor. We often had dance competitions and she would get pretty upset when I would come out victorious (I sometimes would have to pretend to lose-She was such a sore loser). Corrina had a pretty rough childhood. Her mother was often absent and she was left alone with an abusive father. She left home at 12 and had 4 children by the age of 19. I was her fourth child out of five total and her only daughter. She once told me she hated me when I was born. I was pretty hurt and confused by that statement but I didn't put the pieces together until later in life. Corrina was afraid I would have to struggle as she did and experience some of her struggles she could not escape until her death. I often wish I can go back and tell her I acknowledge her pain and struggle and have no resentment or pain left in my heart for her. I somehow think she got this message already as I lay with her before she passed. I lay there with her as she held my hand with all the strength she had left and she would look up at me to acknowledge my presence there with her. I got to be there as her spirit left this earth permanently grasping my hand until she was no longer with me.  I cannot believe soon I will be able to bring life into this world as she did and I would have to be responsible for another life beside my own. I know Corrina would be proud and also probably try and make my child prank call local pizzeria's as she have us do from time to time demanding a refund for a non-existent pizza order in which hair from an undisclosed body part was found. Corrina, Corrina I miss you everyday and wish you were here to see this day. (She hated being called mom--she refused it and requested we call her Corrina and I often called her Mommy Dearest. The phrase made famous by the film about the abusive actress Joan Crawford).

 

Goodbye SF I will miss thee.

My last day in SF was hectic, lots of packing and cleaning all while being 7 and half months pregnant.  At the end of the day my Boo Thang and I decided to take our last stroll through our neighborhood. Noe Valley is pretty tame compared to the rest of the city but at the local Starbucks it seemed all the eccentric players came out to send us off.  Boo Thang and I went to the local bakery and got some cupcakes and decided we needed coffee. Walked in to Starbucks and got our drinks and I unsuspectingly sat down to what seemed to be people just minding their own tending to their electronic devices. As I took a deep breath and looked to my right I noticed the man next to us was watching pornography on his laptop in broad day light mind you at Starbucks. I decided to chuckle and I think I chuckled so loudly he notice but not enough to stop looking at the pornographic images on his laptop. I decided to look to my left and notice a man dressed in a cape eating a burrito. He then made it clear he was in fact a wizard from the dark ages and I am sure they had burritos in boxed containers at that time as well. I didn't really know which way to look and Boo Thang and I decided if we stared at each other we would either continue to glimpse at the Wizard man or the Neighborhood Sex Offender so we decided to just stare straight at the wall. I decided to take one more peek at the Sex Offender and chuckled so loudly this time he looked at me from the side and changed his screen to an Eric Clapton Youtube video.  I knew then that Eric Clapton's soothing sounds even touched the souls of neighborhood sex offenders. As Boo Thang and I walked home for the last time in San Francisco it was bitter sweet as we knew we hated the over crowded, over priced, sometimes inauthentic hipster vibe the city was now attracting but would also miss the true locals you wouldn't find anywhere else like the Bottomless Tank Top Man (Yes he only wears a black tank top and no more). Oh San Francisco how I will miss thee.

Hola!

It's been some time since my last post but many events have taken place. I have gained about 30 pounds in my mid section which is the most uncomfortable I have felt in a while. Trying to find the perfect sleeping position can take hours and you never quite feel as comfortable as before. My Boo Thang is on auto pilot when I wake up early for work he gives me a push out of the bed as we catches me rolling around on my back like a turtle struggling to turn over on its shell. One of my best friends got married and I got to be the pregnant bridesmaid and it also didn't help is was around 90 degrees out and I walked around in heels all day. No one warns you about the hot flashes you get during pregnancy or how difficult it can be just to try and do your normal routine (Psst. I might have accidentally peed my pants once or twice but don't tell anyone).  My Boo Thang  and I also decided to leave our adventure behind in San Francisco and head to Silicon Valley.  While I enjoy watching all the tech geeks walk to work in their backpacks holding on tight to their Iphones I will miss the nudist, scenic views, and the crazed man walking down the street proclaiming he "runs this shit". The city was getting to crowded with hipsters and tourist hipsters walking in my way and the fatter I get the more annoyed I get with thick glass wearing dorks. I will come back to visit our favorite eateries, watch the nudist walk along Castro Street and sit at Deloris watching over the city buildings. I cannot wait to have a proper Bahn Mi (Vietnamese Sandwich) and authentic Desi chaat in the South Bay.  I am hoping the transition is smooth and less gassy.

Peace.

When Zombies Attack!

In wake of the new zombie apocalypse going on in Miami when another man thought he was probably a lion, tiger or bear during his drug induced hallucination he decided what would these animals do? I know take their clothes off and start chewing off your druggie friends face. The aftermath has produced many news articles and references to films highlighting juvenile fantasies of fighting off zombies to save the human race. Here is a video that has quickly become a favorite. It's pretty much a prank that eventually does not go so well for the prankster. Kids now a days especially school yard kids can handle zombies, since they kill enough in video games. If I ever encountered a zombie my tactic was always pretending I was a zombie myself to blend in. Watch out for those zombies especially the ones carrying a television set in a shopping cart asking you if you want to buy it for $2.

I'm Mexican

So I still don't think this tops Indian Thriller but it comes pretty close with the high pitched Michael Jackson voice telling his girlfriend not to leave and the shaky camera work that somewhat resembles someones wedding video (You know the one couples force you to watch after being married and you sit there with a plastered smile on your face the entire time because if you attempt another expression it may come off rude or questionable). What is most questionable about this video lead singer Angel hanging out in what looks like a cheap motel staring longingly out the window as his band mates play a game of cards. Los Temerarios were the quintessential Mexican romantic band of the 80's and early 90's and anyone who speaks any language knows how awesome 80's love ballads were. I use to dream of one day dancing with my significant other (Boo Thang-I didn't know him yet) to this song. What is most sad is after Gustavo Angel pours his heart out by singing at what seems to be a high school dance it turns out she didn't truly love him as she disappears from the dance floor and he his left to wipe his single tear. (Buddha since I am sure you are one of few who read this blog ask Claudia about this song I am sure she knows what's up) All others thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

Throwback!

My brother Cream Puff and I would watch Indian music videos growing up on the local access station Saturday mornings and never knew what they were singing about but often just sang what the words sounded like in English as I we danced about the one room we had at the Flags (remember there was 40 flags). This video made on YouTube by Buffalax pretty much sums up what we thought all along. Also for those of you who worked with me at the rape crisis center many years ago also know this video all to well as it helped  relieve some anxiety and stress after many stressful meetings and encounters with survivors. I pissed off a few of my Desi friends when I showed them this video years ago and I would laugh out loud hysterically and in response they would send me Telenovelas (Spanish Soap Operas), but I would say nothing beats Indian Superman below:

Or Indian Thriller:

Top That!

BBQ Hunt

So I have been browsing pictures of local and not so local BBQ joints for the past hour. I felt guilty as I searched endlessly for pictures of succulent ribs, glistening chicken, and creamy potato salad. I even decided to text my friends as a form of intervention to stop compulsively looking at pictures of BBQ.  I have been wanting beef ribs, chicken, mac and cheese and potato salad. The kind of potato salad with enough  mayo that my potato salad actually drips through my fork. I want to get grease on my hands and BBQ sauce on my face, so when Boo Thang looks at me he points and laughs but I will be too busy with my ribs to care to even wipe my face. I need ribs now! Yes I am expecting but I wouldn't consider this one of those cravings expecting moms have just a usual craving and obsession I get from time time.

Boo Thang if you are reading this you know what to do!

Expecting.

The following email was sent to some friends of mine and is also a warning to all friends who may be neglecting their duties to assist an expecting mother. 

Hey Ladies,

I also wanted to add I would like more acknowledgment from S,
S. S. (yes I said you) and M. Yes I am requesting it! I am
pregnant and a little text checking in would be nice from time to
time. IDK, "You need anything?", "How fat have you gotten?"  "How are
you?" "You need help pulling up your pants?" I don't ask for much just
help with my pants. You know my response will naturally be, "I am
fine" but sometimes I just need a hug or a smiley face text.  I hope
this email serves as a warning to you all! I will bite your hand off
because I am constantly hungry! Quick update the baby is now kicking
me from the inside! Yeah! I think. Just miss you guys and cannot wait
for the celebrations.

This email got me immediate responses . So next time you feel a little neglected a little reminder threatening to bite your friends hand may do the trick.  

Thanks Buddha.

Alabama Shakes. I need a pick up truck and the open road.

Father John Misty

Fleet Foxes needed to let J. Tillman go and be free to write and sing this awesomeness.

Caine's Arcade

 

 Let your children play and imagine a better world. Love this kid and want him to be my best friend (Sorry Boo Thang) 

Can't get you out of my head

One of my favorite's still

I will follow him

Stamps

When I was younger I dreaded my Granny asking me to go to the corner store. I would first make sure it was not food stamps she was sending me with but if it was I would always try and come up with an excuse any excuse to avoid using the dreaded "Stamps". Damn those food stamps marked all over the place with the phrase "Food Coupon" and highlighted in bright red, purple, and brown so others know you are poor and receiving welfare assistance. There I would be tightly holding the crumbled stamp in my hand so no one could see it and at the very end I would pull it out  and toss it to the store keeper. I use to wait to the store was cleared to make my purchase. Sometimes the store owner would bust me out and say, "Paying with food stamps?" and I would awkwardly hand over the crumbled bill. My worst fear was running into a classmate. I was faced with this fear one afternoon as I walked the aisles at the corner store I saw a classmate. There he was buying candy and soda and he said, "Hello". I thought he couldn't possibly be paying with stamps and he already noticed me so I had to wait for him to leave. I wandered around aimlessly already having the items I came for in hand. The store owner kept hassling me, "Are you ready?" My face would turn bright red, "No" I replied. I waited behind the end of the line once I saw him go up to the counter. When I saw him pull out the dreaded stamps I nearly laughed out loud and was relieved not to be the only one. In reality most of the kids at my school had public assistance and there was only one girl in the entire school who took her own lunch. We made fun of her oblivious that there was a reason she brought her own lunch and we all got free ones from the school. Once he left the store and I was in the clear I paid with my Food Stamps and and thought to myself, poor kid had to pay with Food Stamps and how embarrassed he must have felt. They now have a debit card so you don't have to deal with all the stigma that comes with the stamps but I still hear cashiers say, "EBT?", which is the electronic benefit transfer which is another term for food stamps. I don't understand the need to shout out the type of payment someone is using as long as they are paying for the the items. I am obviously hyper sensitive to this issue since I was forced to use the ugly colorful stamps that looked like some game board money. Damn you Food Stamps, damn you! I must say when I was a child the 1st of the month could never come around fast enough and our biggest worry was that someone might steal the check. I once chased my mother down the street for the check as she pulled up with her boyfriend at the time as the mail man was coming to take our check. My Granny shouted,  "Get her she has the check". If you can imagine 5 kids under the age of 12 (Including uncle Frankie who was around 11 at the time) chasing a grown woman in a car with an adult male driver leaving a motel.

Two Occasions

When my mother was feeling particularly energetic she would dance around the house in circles. She would dance to all the 80's classics, Whitney, Teena Marie, Baby Face and others. I loved to watch her move effortlessly around the house as she glided across the floor. I was amazed by her natural grace and movements. In secret I would copy her and dance in front of the mirror. She once caught me and smiled and said, "You are your mothers daughter". I was so proud of myself that I could be at least half as good as she was. While we had a very complicated relationship I always cherished her visits and never wanted her to leave. She once took me on an extended stay with her on a weekend visit when I was about 5 years old. She kept me for a couple months instead of the normal weekend visit. My Granny worried and sent people to look for me but somehow didn't manage to locate me or even think to call someone for help. On my stay with her she mostly dropped me off with friends. I remember staying with an old white man who was clearly an alcoholic. He always took me with him to his regular bar and I ate burgers in my own private booth, pretty fancy stuff for a 5 year old. He was harmless and was only doing my mother a favor, he always made sure I was fed during my short visits. I look back and think, thank god he was not some sort of pedophile. I still can't remember his name but remember his head full of white hair and he always wore a beanie. She eventually came to her senses and dropped me back off with my Granny. She would always visit randomly and usually with gifts in tote. On my 7th birthday and the whole day had gone by and no one remembered or acknowledged the day. Not a big deal now but to a 7 year old this was a very huge deal. She came in around 5 pm with a cake and a lime green and hot pink dress. As soon as I saw her I knew she had remembered and jumped up with joy. She made me my favorite dish, Macaroni and Cheese. The day always stays with me. She felt wanted and needed that day like a mother should. She had few of these moments but when she did her face lit up and these are the times I cherished most, her smile. I sometimes see her shadow on the floor dancing effortlessly across the room and my heart flutters when I imagine her presence near me.  

The First Taste

My Uncle Frankie would play this song first thing in the mornings. He would walk around the house with only his underwear on (Remember those burgundy tight ones?). He was usually on the phone with friends sitting on the toilet and telling them, "Yeah can you believe this B**** is white", referring to Fiona Apple's soulful vocal talent playing loudly in the background. He was so carefree frolicking about the house doing his two step to Fiona Apple.  Damn the 90's seem so much cooler than this post 9/11 hysteria twilight zone we currently live in.

Nene and Only One

I grew up with my uncle Frankie's kids, you know the uncle that would rip off all my doll heads and taunt me with their burned carcasses. He had 4 children 3 boys and one girl. His oldest two boys Nene and Only One as he called them were cute little trouble makers from the start. They once ganged up on me when they were about 3 and 4 years old and attacked me with shoes and hangers. I beat that ass later when I man handled the 4 year old to the ground and held him in a wresting pose ( I was 17 at the time) I might have drop kicked the 3 year old. They would beg to come in my room so I could tell them stories and play dress up (Yes these boys loved to play dress up). Nene always had a shaved head big brown eyes and olive skin. He would love to do karate moves and he would hate when I called him Xena Warrior Princess and yell "I yayayayaya". Only One had a straight bowl cut hair style with the same big brown eyes and olive skin. When they looked at you, you couldn't help but melt. I once caught them both with my pet fish in their mouths. I was so upset as they killed Lenny and Phil but then they looked at me with those big brown eyes,  I melted ( I think I still kicked Only One in the butt). When Frankie passed away suddenly they were lost and heartbroken. I did my best to stay apart of their lives but it seemed the more I tried the less they responded. They became teenagers in Richmond, CA and were associated with a family with a not so pleasant past. They found themselves paying for mistakes they didn't make but rather my brothers, cousins, and uncles made. They were forced to make decisions many wouldn't understand if you did not grow up in that environment. Imagine seeing your mother held at gun point, or being placed in hand cuffs in a house raid before your were 10 years old. I had gone through all of it and witnessed it all first hand and wanted so desperately to keep them from the life that entices you to "Try to make a dolla out of 15 cents". I scolded my brothers and cousins to keep Frankie's kids safe. I mean this is the uncle that was more like a brother who saw more in me and wanted more for me and would do the same for his children. I felt lost and confused that it seemed no one wanted to protect them from this life. I would hear stories and get calls from the Nene and Only One about getting into trouble and even being shot at and doing the same to protect themselves. I wait for the call when they tell me they are not coming back from the things they have done or have been done to them. Recently they are both serving time for very serious charges and pray that they are set free and are able to one day see what I see in them the handsome sweet, intelligent, giving young men they are and the men their father wanted them to be. I love you always Nene and Only One and you will always be the little boys I man handled when I was 17 years old (remember that? Yeah I thought so sucka).

Trabajando

A Planned Attack

All the recent presidential arguments about a woman's reproductive system has me a bit worried that we can actually revert to a time which access to women specific health care was illegal. The argument to life seems to be the main issue but why defund a program like Planned Parent Hood that has not only provided women education on preventive services but also access to health care that don't only include legal abortions (this is only a minor service they provide) but rather regular check ups and screenings for STI's. While we like to think everyone can afford and has access to a regular doctor but considering our economy is in the dumps and even the middle class has fallen into a depression, health care has become to expensive and far reaching for many. Women's bodies are special in the sense we can re-produce life and also take it by forcing a men to actually crash their car turning their head to catch a glimpse of it. We have to take care of this god given gift and seek professional maintenance. It is shameful that today women are still under attack by conservative groups (mostly men) who feel they have the right to make decisions over issues they are so far removed from. Domestic violence, sexual assault, being treated as 2nd class citizens is still such a major issue all over the world yet we continue to turn a blind eye. Hearing Newt Gingerich and Mitt Romney make comments about being pro-life and supporting his decision even in instances of rape and incest shows how out of touch they are with real issues plaguing women all over the world. At one time I worked in an organization for sexual assault one of the survivors was a young girl who was raped by her father and she bore his child. She was not aware organizations like Planned Parent Hood existed as she was new to the US and abortions where she was from were illegal. She sought our services for on going therapy for this traumatic situation she would have to live with for the rest of her life. I wonder what Newt would say if he ever met her. To deny women access to basic screenings and preventative services would force us back into the dark ages when women did their own home procedures and risked infection and even death. We cannot go back to this time nor can we support groups who seek to take the rights of women away.

The In-Laws are coming!

Palace of Fine Arts

 

I took a couple extra days off this weekend to prepare for the festivities. I knew it would be a long weekend filled with family, lots of food, disagreements about food, and long discussions about respect and these damn youngsters. I like to sit back and observe. It's always best to stay out of the way while your elders are at play. We hosted a lunch and figured out our maximum capacity was 12 as the apartment was filled with family. I made my famous chicken dish, the secret is simple, chicken roasted with Achiote paste. After we took them to explore our local neighborhoods. The lights were bright and the air was calm as we walked along the Mission district. Boo Thing's aunt was shocked by all the homeless sleeping near city buildings and even under ATM machines. She got asked for change and when she refused the panhandler asked for her phone number instead, we all had a laugh but the panhandler was deeply hurt and rejected. We were bombarded by hipsters and local drunks yelling across the street at other intoxicated pedestrians rather than having a face to face conversation. I was hoping not to run into any nudist on the street since we would never hear the end of why we choose to move to such a god forsaken place. I enjoyed the stories of their past and how they envisioned their lives would be at this stage and the praises to god for their fortunes and even misfortunes as it got them to be were they are today. The next day we went to Pac Heights for lunch at my favorite place, Pizzeria Delfina--try the mozzarella in carozza. We also checked out a local vintage shop. If you can imagine my mother in law and Boo Thing's Aunt and Uncle who are pretty conservatively dressed and in the retirement stage looking at 'hipster garb', leather coats, and funky eye wear. At one point we both looked at each other in amazement as they really seemed to be enjoying themselves. We actually had to drag out Boo Thing's uncle as he was on the hunt for a vintage leather jacket attempting to relive his youth. Our last stop was the Palace of Fine Arts, we took a stroll through the massive dome and watched the ducks play. I got scolded for not bringing chai or foreseeing that we might need it at some point in the afternoon excursion (Damn Mexican in-laws). As we left the Palace of Fine Arts and drove through the Castro I spotted a lone nudist walking up a hill with a leather cowboy hat as my mother in law looked in the same direction, I held my breath watching her not noticing him, phew close call.  A sense of calm came over me as I watched the nudist walk off into the sunset, it was in some way the culmination of the trip. They all thanked Boo Thang and I for the lovely tour of truly one of the best cities in the world (I would like to take most credit, being a native of the Bay). "Anytime", I said, letting the words slip from my lips and my Boo Thang glaring at me with the look he gets when his favorite team loses some sports final. The in-laws are coming. Till next time.

Marcus

Yes I used a pic of Kid Cudi

In elementary school I would sometimes walk to and from school. My brothers and I would also take a cab, not because we had money but one of my brothers had gotten robbed on the way to school and my Granny was afraid to have us walk. Back in those days it only cost us about $3.50 in a cab to get to school since it was only about a mile and half away.  My older brother would often ditch school and walk an opposite way and I would be forced to walk alone.  Marcus was a young boy at school. He was much larger than all the other kids.  Marcus was not like the rest of the kids from school. He had special classes and would often cross personal boundaries. He had no control over the things he said and slurred his words. People would make fun of Marcus, called him awful and hurtful names like, retard, dumb, crazy, perverted, and faggot.  Marcus would yell and cry and sometimes ignore the bullies. I silently protested against their treatment of Marcus but never had the courage to say anything. One day I found myself walking home with Marcus. We were on opposite sides of the street at first and eventually on the same side. This became somewhat of a regular occurrence. He would ask random questions as if I had all the answers. We talked about our favorite colors, food, teachers, and cartoons.  Marcus also had a great imagination and his mind would wonder about all sorts of things and he would often talk about the sky and what kind of things filled it. He also talked about what he wanted to grow up to be and asked about my aspirations. At school Marcus would wave hello and say, "Hi Francis", and I would ignore him. The friends I had at school didn't really care whether I was friends with Marcus but in my own head I thought the world was staring at me and couldn't be seen saying hi to the resident pariah at school. When we walked together after school he wouldn't say anything and immediately forgave me for being such a bad friend that only was his friend on days we walked home from school. Marcus and I eventually stopped walking home together and went to separate schools. After many years of not seeing him and becoming an adult I saw Marcus. I was to embarrass to say hello, embarrass for not standing up to those bullies and not publicly proclaiming my friendship with Marcus, and I also thought he wouldn't remember me. Marcus stepped right in front of me and said, "Hi Francis", not missing a beat carried on walking like we were back on the play ground at Stege Elementary School. I was pretty astonished he remembered me, It was a pretty amazing moment and I responded, "Hello Marcus", the first time publicly acknowledging I knew him and shared a friendship. Marcus had nothing to be ashamed of as he was always my friend and reminded me of my own faults I so desperately wish I could go back and change. I have not seen him since but if I do I hope to say hello.

Don't be chasing that dolla.

I sometimes have dreams of one day owning a mansion and maybe a small monkey.  Although I boast about simplifying your life I sometimes cannot help trying to keep up with the Jones' or at least achieving that ultimate goal of having it all. I am not sure what having it all really means or when I have reached it. Is there some sort of finish line you cross when you get  there? Some auntie who is known for scrutinizing everything waiting there with a smile and accolades? Or maybe a self satisfying smug and moment of Aha. I have been caught up with working hard lately and maybe not enjoying my life enough, I usually put off relaxing and taking a moment for the next day. I have also noticed lately I look a bit shabby and tired, bags so large I look Raccoonish. My Boo Thang being the loving life partner that he is told me I looked homeless (Not that all homeless people look tired and run down and yes why wouldn't they, they are f***ing homeless for god sake they have larger issues to worry about). I know I get all preachy at times and shell out generic phrases that include, live for today and enjoy life but I often forget to enjoy my own and don't take a moment to smell the poop on the sidewalk our neighbors dog left behind (Damn you Bebe!, the neighbors Poodle). Thanks Little Dragon for reminding us that happiness does not revolve on that all mighty dolla. 

Uncle Lupe

It's a new year and time to keep all the promises we put off yesterday. I don't think I made myself any promises or promises to anyone else this year or the last. The way I see life is ever changing and in those famous cliche words why put off something tomorrow what you can do today. My uncle Lupe passed away yesterday morning. He's my Granny's brother. They looked like twins hobbling about in their semi Afro hair styles. He was born in Waco Texas but lived in Lubbock, Texas.  He was hard working and short in stature, jet black hair and looked like a character from Good Fellas, one of those old Italian uncles with slick back hair. You could see the hard life he lived on his face, deep lines and red from the sun and a soft smile that hid stories you only read about. He was soft spoken, caring, and strong. You would have no idea he did over 20 years in prison. He would visit often from Texas from a small town where work comes cheap and struggle runs deep, a struggle so different from my own and I couldn't comprehend but at least tried to understand. Before he got sick he planned on moving back to California with his only surviving sibling my Granny. He had only one daughter he lost to the streets long ago and was never married. Uncle Lupe had many tattoos but the one that stood out most to me was a list of women tattooed on his arm. I asked him one day why he had a list of women's names on his arm, he said he got one girlfriends name and when he broke up with her the new one got upset so the names just kept adding on. I thought his answer was pretty funny and honest. He would take us to school in an old white Chevy with a hole in the bottom you could see straight through to the pavement.  He was so proud to come to California find work and reclaim his Independence as he was far from Lubbock at the time. He would sit with us and tell us stories about ghost and his life experiences. He once said he walked in a house sat on a bed and felt the presence of a ghost passing by and sitting next to him making the impression of another human body on the bed. One thing Uncle Lupe was not known for was lying and when he told that story he even had chills on his arm. That story stays with me till this day. I will miss uncle Lupe's smile his expression when I took him on his first trip to the big city and he took a step back as we walked out to Union Square and he stood there for a few moments in awe and you could see the wonder on his face in great appreciation for the splendor of the world around him, something I take for granted daily he took in with amazement. I hope wherever he his he is in peace and he knows the world misses him, his gentleness, his experiences, his knowledge, and true appreciation for life I could only aspire to have.  I am so fortunate to have come across such a gentle small giant, my uncle Lupe.