Utopia

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My version of utopia would have a beach near by, plenty of local produce, great weather, a light house and a few dirty hippies who refuse to shower and insist on talking so closely your foreheads nearly touch. These close talkers will make for an interesting dilemma as my Boo Thang is highly uncomfortable with these types and struggles with being polite. The last time he encountered this situation he took a few steps back and the talker took a few steps forward each time not quite taking the hint. It was pretty hilarious to watch this conversation tango. I would spend my days making 'art' which would include some sort of recycled bottle concoction and my Boo Thang would spend his days fishing and lighting fires (remember there is always a fire going all seasons). I recently read this article in the NY Times where such a place seems to exist - for the time being that is. Cabo Polonio is a sleepy beach town only accessible by foot or over the sand dunes by jeep. It is surrounded by natures bounty, quirky homes, and of course hippies (They always know all the best places).  I know the idea of an actual utopia is a bit far reaching since it usually comes at a cost and there is always a struggle to proclaim ownership and eventually making it into some sort of Disneyland beach resort. The residents are currently battling the government and investors stake in ownership of this ethereal wonder.  If we ever find this utopia we all searched for at some point we would live in constant fear of others plans to take it from us kind of like the time I had my faux fur coat. I am pretty sure the utopia would turn into a Lord of the Flies situation.  For now please read the following article and imagine a place free from chaos, money troubles, and self important celebrities. 

http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/09/30/the-coast-of-utopia/?ref=style

First Baby

Valerie and Ani with their B-day cake made by me!

This past weekend I celebrated the birthday of my cousin Valerie. She recently turned 18 years old and is a constant reminder how out of touch I am with what is hip. I grew up with Valerie and her family. Raised with her father who was only 5 years older than me and more like a brother than an uncle. I would come home to barbie dolls with no hair and toys that had been mutilated by my uncle/brother. He would regularly taunt me, make fun of my gap teeth at the time and claimed I was a lesbian, you know normal brother stuff. When I would explain to strangers my uncle would burn my dolls and laugh in my face they were horrified as they pictured some mid age man with a wife beater holding a can of beer but he was an acne face chubby kid merely 5 years older than me. I would love to see their reaction before revealing his true age.  He eventually got over his phase of mutilating all my  toys and took me under his wing. He protected me and guided me to make the right decisions in life despite our misfortunes. He became my uncle/brother/father all at once. He had Valerie at the age of 16. Still only a kid forced to make adult decisions. She was his pride and joy. His First Baby as he called her. Valerie was like any other child active yet shy and reserved. A head full of curls and made a terror of a young boy turn into a complete softy. Frankie was his name and everyday I miss him. I can't believe it's been almost eight years but feels like yesterday. I replay the scene in my head over and over. I know he wouldn't want me to do that and probably tell me to stop it "Amy". I melt when I see his children becoming grown ups and how he will miss this all and how much they will miss him and knowing more of him, all of him. I see some of Valerie in him. His stubbornness, kind heart, his smile, his unpredictability and his ability to murder toys. His children are a constant reminder of him and sometimes I can barely stand to look at them. I miss him dearly and hope with gods grace he is proud of us and the people we have become.  Love you Frankie and miss you burning my toys and calling me gappy, A.P.E., Amy, White Girl, and most importantly your niece.

Adieu

 
So a few weeks ago I decided to leave the virtual world of Facebook.  I thought this process would be easy. I barley talk to any of the people on there and really only have about 4 real life friends. I mean who am I kidding pretending to be friends with 200 people. I felt a bit stalker-ish roaming through the pages of people I haven't spoken to or seen for years yet manage to have all access to their social life. I would get random updates on where they have last been and pictures of them seeming to have a blast or at least pretending to. This whole virtual world is so hard to keep pace with. It felt like high school all over again, competing to be kings and queens of the school, a popularity contest of sorts and I was the girl that ate lunch in the girls locker room. I know this virtual space is a great way to keep in contact with loved ones and close friends as well but find them to self promoting and this made me feel a bit inadequate at times.  They also take away all human contact in a real way. I notice all around me people fiddling with their phones, laptops, Ipads, etc, to afraid of interaction with the person next to them. It seems people would rather Facebook a hello rather then actually saying it to a person 5 feet away. I found myself Facebooking congrats on momentous events and reached the last straw when I saw a friend post a family member's passing and people selecting the "Like" button. I still manage to peek at the profiles through my Boo Thangs Facebook but hope to ease my way out of the virtual nightmare at least for the time being. I am sure I will be on some social networking site in no time posting pictures of how more amazing my life is than yours but until then...

Reflections

Emerald Bay-Lake Tahoe

                                                                     Reflecting.

Frisco Kid!

My Boo Thang and I recently moved to San Francisco. Our neighborhood is quaint, nestled between the hustle and bustle of the Mission and Castro districts. Walking through our new neighborhood you immediately notice the miles of strollers lining the streets and small coffee shops (in between the Starbucks and Whole Foods of course) and lines of people waiting to be seated for brunch. My Boo Thang and I pride our selves on supporting the local mom and pop shops with the occasional Starbucks frap in between.  During our first week we decided to explore our new neighborhoods. Walked up and down the Castro, through the Mission and settled at Delores Park and enjoyed the beautiful view of downtown. We enjoyed our Sandwich from a local hot spot Ike's Place and were pleasantly surprised by the nude man strolling by with a newspaper in tote as I took a bite of my roast beef sandwich on a dutch crutch.  We even made our way to the local Mosque for the Friday sermon and over heard a man tell one of the sisters, "He would jump all over that" and the Imam confess he longer smoked the pipe.  I must admit I am already in love with SF and may even leave my heart here when I move, or if I move. I think I can get use to the occasional naked man walking down the street as I sip on my ice coffee, or the local homeless man that pees on the sidewalk, Japanese tourist, European tourist, Latin American tourist, and maybe just maybe flamboyantly gay men with sassy walks threatening to steal my Husband.  Frisco Kid was a friend of mine.

Never Change

Growing up "hood" was the thing to be. When I was in grade school I often day dreamed of getting into a fight-wanting to fit in more with my family.  I was an outcast. I knew I was way to afraid and non-violent to actually physically harm anyone. I would hear family members brag about how many fights they had and how often they got suspended or expelled from school. I sometimes stared at myself in the mirror and fake an argument with a school bully.  I always came out victorious in this scenario. In reality I was shy, never spoke or looked people in the eye, too afraid of what eye contact might insinuate. I was the girl who held tightly to her white faux fur coat and left her brother in the dust while witnessing him being robbed for his new Starter coat and fresh new bright red high top Fila's. I was made fun of for years as coming from where I am from you were taught to show no fear. I think back to that time and laugh at how crazy I must have seemed looking into the mirror pretending to have a fight with myself. I also thought Fight Club total ripped off my idea. As we all aged I assumed we would grow out of this need to fight and hustle-but coming from where I'm from you have no choice unless you're a girl you can get away with it. Some of us moved away, had kids, had some more kids, others died and some went to prison. Now it's the new generations turn and they are having the same conversations about fights and the need to be feared or stay hustling. I try to spit game but they don't hear me. I stay out the way because you never know when there is gun play.  I fear for them and pray for them. Coming from where I'm from you have to stay surviving. Though you may get out, coming from where I'm from you will always have ties to the past, present and future. The thoughts may haunt you, sometimes make you laugh and make you feel blessed to be alive. You will always be reminded about those who never get out and never change because this life we call 'hood life' will never leave you. The memories will always take you back to time when you were a little girl clutching her new white faux fur coat so tightly it turned her fingers purple in fear teenage boys might want to take it from her .  Love you Cream Puff, First Baby, Nene, Only One, and Mijo Mijo.

I'm Mexican!

Tostada with chorizo chicken, bean and corn salad, crema, and queso= Delicioso.