Project Dissertation

I moved to this fabulous city three years ago mainly to; be near an airport for travel, be able to not trade my stilletos for trainers, and to finish my doctoral studies in four years. Yes, that pretty much sums up my priorities at 30. So now I am ABD with nine months to go and San Francisco is no easy city to ignore. Although, I would argue that each experience that deters my academic writing is really just needed inspiration. Welcome and I hope you enjoy...

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Location: San Francisco, California, United States

Bilingual, Bicultural, and Dual Citizen. J School B.A., M.A. in High Incidence Disabilities, & ABD in Education.

Friday, April 25, 2008

Vida Hidro Calida

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Sunday, April 20, 2008

La Calixtina

Pura gente bonita! En el rancho de Los tios Lupita y Tacho

El rancho La Calixtina, Calvillo, Aguascalientes
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Friday, April 18, 2008

Full Circle

We have roots like memories that run deep though the land

Connecting guayaba trees the fragrant fruit that my mom would place in the kitchen window on a warm summer day

The breeze would fill the house with a smell pungent and sweet until she would put it back in the freezer til the next time

I would not know- what it meant to crave the smell of earth the scent of ripe sweet guayaba, hold dear something that had made the trip from the interior of the republic to our home- not until later

In the meantime I made faces at the lentils they ate with sliced banana
the white cheese with quince
Bolillo toasted on the comal with butter and dipped into thick chocolate
the Chocos at the corner and fresh squeezed orange juice I began to crave

Not understand truly all the stories I heard the tall tales that seemed larger than life magical realism, the western notion to explain enchantment

my western mind seeping into my families collective memory but there are places still a place called home that stands to show me, life really was that way

What was lost to me on the visits back when I was younger is keeping me from sleeping tonight, I can't wait to take it all in

The older I get the more I understand the Mexico that my family came from, has a name, a people, a face

It is like going to the old country in a state that never went away or got lost in time, finding my way back, with three generations still alive and connected that began as far back as the Great Great Grandparents on my Mothers side

Going to Aguascalientes to join my Abuelita and my Mami

I will be Lore the great granddaughter of Dolores y Luis, Lore the granddaughter of Amparo y Jesus, the daughter of Laurita, the goddaughter of Chachita...

Take it all in and hopefully return one day with a daughter of my own

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Tuesday, April 15, 2008

The D.E.Y.

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Sunday, April 13, 2008

Feria de San Marcos

Ni puedo creer que el viernes me voy a Aguascalientes! Hoy desperte con ganas de escuchar esta cancion, Pelea de Gallo...

A la féria de San Marcos, del merito Aguascalientes
Van llegando los valientes con su gallo copetón.
Y lo traen bajo del brazo al sonar de la partida
Pa' jugarse hasta la vida con la fé de un espolón.

Linda la pelea de gallos con su público bravero
Con sus chorros de dinero y los gritos del gritón.
Regosándonos el gusto no se sienten ni las horas
Con tequila y cantadoras que son puro corazón.

Ay! Fiesta bonita!
Y hasta el alma grita con todas sus fuerzas:
<"QUE VIVA!!">
Que su féria es un primor.

Ya comienza la pelea, las apuestas ya casadas
Las navajas amarradas centellando bajo del sol.
Cuando sueltan a los gallos temblorosos de coraje
No hay ninguno que se raje para darse una agarrón.

Con sus plumas relucientes y aventando picotazos
Quieren hacerse pedazos, pués traen ganas de pelear
Y en el choque cae el giro sobre el suelo ensangrentado
Ha ganado el colorado que se pone ya a cantar.

Ay! Fiesta bonita!...

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Wednesday, April 09, 2008


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Tuesday, April 08, 2008

In Training

Since I left LA I have only dabbled in fitness. A year exploring my state of the art fitness center free with university tuition, moving studios from one kind of yoga, to another. I must say of all the fitness endeavors I have taken none have been better than walking the three miles to the ocean or into Golden Gate park from my home.

Sunday my Argentino and I made our way into Golden Gate park. He says, once I get my bike we will ride through the city. I am certain he means it in the casual Mission hipster sort of way, and hopefully not some heavy duty cycling. Agreed, a ride to the ocean would be the first outing once my Schwinn is up from LA.

We were meeting his friends at the Chilean festival. I told him we had to walk for an hour. He laughed, why? "Because I am on a fitness plan. Remember I told you about the personal trainer?" What do you have to loose? "Pounds, querido, pounds, my mom said!" He smiled. I thought wow, he really is perfect.

Truth is I am on week three of the 12 week training commitment, already lost 3 lbs which does not feel like much but have been exercising 3 hours a week which is more than I have all year.

On Sunday when the sun was out and the call came through to head to the festival I asked him, how long I had to get ready. He said it is the park, wear boots and jeans something for the campo. I laughed, "I think I have to wear flats." Don't you have flat boots, he asked, then I realized in Spanish we were likely talking about two different types of shoes.

He got to the door and said, you are not going to be cold in that top? And you can walk in those shoes? "Ugh, casual is difficult," I told him. "Wait in the living room." Found my favorite new pair of navy blue flats, gold tank under my navy puma zip up, and a pair of jeans I had not worn since summer. I could fold them under to just the right length. I couldn't believe my body was already responding to the nutrition and fitness kick. Changed bags into my inherited LV bag and placed my new Dita sunglasses on my head.

"Okay, lets go," he smiled again.

At the festival he spotted some friends, see how they show up and you were worried about what you wore. "I would never show up in sweats," I tell him. Greeted his friends and one of them said, que guapa. Gracias ;)

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Saturday, April 05, 2008


I never tire of giving thanks to my Virgencita of Guadalupe. It has been a beautiful week full of love, hopes, and dreams...

If you haven't already tuned into CURRENT, what are you waiting for?

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Thursday, April 03, 2008

The Unspoken

When he asked me out, I did not know what time I would be done writing. No problem, just text me when you do. It was 9pm before I got up from my desk. He called back, when, do you think you will be ready? "In 30 minutes," he laughed, call me when you are ready.

It was 90 minutes before I called him back. Ready he asked? "Yes." With Latino men, you rarely have to explain the amount of time it takes you to get ready. They know the wait is worth it. Que linda, he said when he saw me. A bachata song came over the radio. Do you know how to dance bachata, he asked. "Do you?" Yes. "Then I do to, I just have to follow right?" Si, he said with a smile.

He wanted us to go meet his friends, so I agreed. The first table of names, I would not remember, although I tried to remember some of the women's names. I couldn't make out the Spanish accents either. As we walked away one of the men said 'caio flaca.' I smiled, it was a term of endearment strangers do not usually use with each other.

I asked, "were they Argentinos?" No, Chilenos. "Oh, they sound like Argentinos." Yes, a little. Another round of handshakes, and what did I want to drink one of his friends asked? Piña con vodka, someone said 'Piña para la niña.' I could tell this was going to be quite the night.

We were at Delirium listening to the punk rock standards. I sat down, not wanting to mess up my flouncy top. I could just imagine the chiffon ripping on some sweaty mosher. For the record, I had not dressed for this bar.

In English someone asked me do you want to see? Handed me a small black leather-bound book. I smiled and opened the pages. "Oh, did you draw these?" Some, would you like to draw something? "I don't draw, just write bad poetry." That's fine.

My drink arrived, was I okay? Yes, just going to write some bad poetry on demand, we laughed.

I wrote and thought about keeping the shiny silver pen, didn't of course. The music had changed and I wiggled in my seat a bit I guess because one then another guy had asked if I wanted to dance? "No, thank you, really."

Stood up and placed my purse on the table. Another introduction, this time to an artist. Is that your purse he asked? "Yes." He said why don't you set it over here by my friends. "Not sure how long I am staying thanks." My guy said let's go meet his friends. So we did, and finally free of my purse, I focused on my still full drink. I remembered my last night of drinking there. The morning after was painful.

Held my drink out and said it is too strong help me. Made a note to switch to water. It was loud and they discussed Pink or Elbow Room. So, we made our way over to the Elbow Room, but the Brazilian Band was not playing that night.

We sat at the bar, and someone was buying a round but I ordered water. It was a group and I quickly took up with the banker by day and musician by night. Asked what I did, told me both of his parents were professors. So the conversation kept going. I looked up and saw my guy wink and smile.

I said, "it was nice talking with you," and excused myself. They were discussing what to do since the Brazilians were not playing. In a rare public display of affection my guy pulled me in close. I noticed it was timed precisely as the guy I had been talking to made his way over.

The artist invited us to his nearby loft. Inside I found a peacock feather and arranged it in my hair, it complimented my outfit perfectly. We looked at high fashion photography books and I drank Jamison on the rocks. My guy played the guitar, it was nice. I fixed my hair into a knot and rearranged the feather. The artist said let me adjust it. My guy walked over and said, I will do it. He did a perfect job.

The small group was predominantly international and Spanish speaking. The artist was learning Spanish and the language lesson when we returned from adjusting my hair was on not touching. Explaining how one would say do not touch, do not touch was doble sentido at its best.

My guy asked the artist if the piece hanging on the wall was his? No, did I want to see his work? Yes, it was just a few feet away from where we sat and my guy kept on with the guitar.

A few feet away, we looked through his stills, and sketches. He asked me if I had a boyfriend? "No," and I kept looking at the artwork. Started to comment on how nice it was to meet me..."Oh, I am sorry, I don't have a boyfriend but I am here with someone."

He fumbled over his words, noticed I had been talking to many people that night. "Yes, fortunately we are both really social. We have been through this before, if we are out together we are not exchanging information with others." We can be friends though, he continued.

"You are his acquaintance, he said you were a great artist. Invite him to something and ask him to bring me. I have to respect the boundaries we have set, have no desire or reason not to." He said, it makes sense, the two of you, he is lucky. "It is mutual."

I spotted the vintage wallpaper on the shelf and then we made some art. First he asked, when they were teaching me how to say not to touch, they were talking to me about you, right? Maybe, his friends took it up with you, not us...

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Wednesday, April 02, 2008


My first piece of art created. Mission District, San Francisco, California 2008.
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