Well, this is gonna have to last until the first week of June. I’m going to Mexico this weekend to visit my grandparents. I’m doing the whole Memorial Day weekend thing where a group of friends get together and go away. Only this time I’m taking them home with me. Then I’m going to San Francisco for almost a week and won’t be back until June 1.
It’s always difficult to explain to people why I feel that San Pedro is my home. I was born in Detroit; of all the places I’ve lived I’ve spent the most amount of time in Houston; and I definitely love Atlanta. But Mexico is home. I could feel this way because I spent my formative years there — my parents moved me and my sisters there just before my tenth birthday and I moved away right after I turned 17. It’s where I started to date, where I graduated from high school, where my parents and their parents were born. It’s the place my family goes on holidays and other special occasions. It’s where we have our house and our roots — it’s home.
It’s also home because I can relax. Spanish envelopes me from morning ’til night. The food gives me comfort, the customs give me pause and the people give me warmth. It’s familiar and intimate and mine in a way that Houston and Atlanta and Detroit and Denver and all those other places never were. It’s where I am me without pretense and without shame. It’s where my skin color means nothing and my exuberant ways are common. It’s where my love of life and my taste in music and my hopeless romanticism are accepted without question. It is where I can sit down and feel like I belong.
So, then, why am I living in Houston? Because everybody leaves home eventually. Just because you love it there doesn’t mean that you’re supposed to stay there always. We grow up, we move away and we make our mark somewhere else. And every once in a while, we go home and feel the nostalgia and the sadness and all that other stuff I’m sure to feel this weekend.
Talk to all of you soon.
I watched the last episode of Seinfeld last night and was a little disappointed. I’d become a reluctant fan of the show and the fact that there was going to be a last episode held a lot of promise. Unfortunately, it was just a thinly veiled collection of the best moments of the show. I think I’ll stick to reruns next time.
On the subject of television, those of you who are addicted to it, like me, have noticed that this is the time for season finales. The X-Files season finale is this Sunday, May 17. Mimi Rogers guest stars and the episode will be the set up for the much-anticipated TXF movie this summer. If you haven’t checked this TV show out yet, watch the movie. Dana Scully, one half of the show’s main attraction, rocks! If nothing else, watch it just to check her out. Another finale to watch is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. This Tuesday, May 19, is the second part of the season finale. This show, ending its second stellar season on television, is one of the best I’ve seen in a long time. Of course, there are no Latinos on it, and the one time they did have one it was a monster Inca Mummy girl, but that issue aside, the show is really good.
Just a friendly reminder: Godzilla comes out sometime next week. I love classic horror films and am going to watch this just to see how they screw it up. Nice attitude, isn’t it? But I’ve never seen a remake of a classic film that’s as good or better than the original. I hope that this one proves me wrong, but I’m expecting the worst.
Hasta luego, gente.
I am my Mother’s child.
I have realized this as I hear her words tumble out of my mouth, as I remember her actions through my body, as I think her thoughts through my life. I have become more like her every day, and I never thought that would happen.
I must first point out, on this Mother’s Day, that I have a lot of respect for Mom. A stay-at-home mother, she taught me how to act like a good little girl, how to bake a cake from scratch, how to use a drill and how to check my car’s oil. She told me that I could do anything I wanted, and not to let anyone stop me. She was always my biggest supporter, my guiding light, my friend.
Mom was cool.
She used to play her Motown records as she cleaned the house. She never let me buy the latest fad — she didn’t want me to look like everyone else. When I was a teenager and started to wear makeup she would stop me on my way out of the house with a suggestion that I apply a little more color because I looked too pale. She shocked neighbors by laughing at the latest gossip about my behavior, or misbehavior. She encouraged me to ignore what other people thought in favor of using my judgment. She wanted me to be an individual.
I love my Mother.
Over the years my relationship with her has changed. I am no longer a child and her approval isn’t necessary. I’d prefer to have it, but I will go ahead and do something without it. Using my judgment, after all, means just that. Using my judgment. This has caused an occasional moment of friction, but we usually get passed it. Working things out is another thing she taught me.
And so here I am, a mass of contradictions (most of which she installed personally) who tries to balance her individuality with her loyalty to her family. I am my Mother’s child.
This previous Tuesday, April 28, marked the first year anniversary of this site. I can’t believe it’s been a year. What started out as some personal and temporary space has reached a real anniversary. For those of you who have been with me since the beginning, you will recall the original format, the changes in content and style, and you have gotten to know me through these little self-indulgent sessions. For those of you who are new, I thank you for giving this site a try.
I have ranted and raved, nagged and whined, yelled and sighed about a lot of things over the past twelve months. Most of the original features and editorials aren’t even on the web anymore. I have changed the focus of this site from my writings to other noteworthy items on the web. And a lot of stuff in here is pure mind-candy, simple fluff, because, quite honestly, this is mine and I can do with it anything I want.
That’s the point of this space.
So here we are, one year later, and this site is nothing more than what I have made of it. It is nothing more than what I want it to be. My few loyal readers tell me what they like and don’t like, and, if I agree with you, I make the changes.
Now let’s see if we make it to two years! Later.