Friday Textation

Started out the long weekend with 106 text exchanges here are a few of my favorites :)

20:53 'or u can come earlier (8:30) and we can walk twin peaks first.' my friend on prepping for the first bridal event of the season

15:53 'Te quiero mucho yo tambien, happy friday' mi Papi chulo y querido

12:09 'Thank you for celebrating this with me! That means a lot' Bride to be, in response to the Turks and Caicos wedding RSVP

11:17 '...u r Xicana as Anna Castillo dreamed u: Traditional, creative, hard wrking, n smart enuf 2 not put up w bs n get bk 2 ur true self whn u want.' mi Chicano favorito

4:35 'ke pasa che todavia me odias?' como jode el boludito :)

Life of Lo

The D.E.Y.

Love

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 ;)

CURRENT: Virgin

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?

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 her...it 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...

Renew

Easter 2008
Con las Familias Zermeño, Roque y Salazar

Have Felt

Like this...

"Bay Poem from Berkeley"
by, Sandra Cisneros

Mornings I still
reach for you before
opening my eyes.

An antique habit from
last summer when we pulled
each other into the heat of groin
and belly, slept with an arm
around the other.

The Texas sun was like that.
Like a body asleep beside you.

But when I open my eyes
to the flannel and down,
mist at the window and blue
light from the bay, I remember
where I am.

This weight
on the other side of the bed
is only books, not you. What
I said I loved more than you.
True.

Though these mornings
I wish books loved back.

Cupid Playlist

Love and Thanks

I am truly humbled by the beauty of strangers, friends, and family that lent their strength and prayers for my pretty mami. She is home recovering now and the phone calls, visits, and good wishes continue. Her mom is there cooking up a storm, at 80 my abuelita has displayed a quiet faith and strength, she is inspiring. Her doting husband is still amazing and in love. My parents just celebrated their 36th wedding anniversary.

The rosaries and misas that have been said in her name from Aguascalientes, through Mexico and baja are very appreciated. The powerful Christian prayer angeles, the pastors and ministers that lead their congregations in prayer, made a difference. The calls upon and alms offered in my mothers name for prayers in Malasia, from Buddhist priests, from the elders, and the stone people, gracias. For those that included her in their daily prayers and positive thoughts, thank you.

The last few weeks I felt fueled by a super human adreniline. I dreamt someone blew a great gust of air my way, I can only imagine it was my great-grandmothers Dolores and Esperanza, my great-tia Aurora, smiling down upon me. I needed all of that and more. When, I felt low friends and family lent strength to. Finaly the pace has slowed and although I feel a little tired very happy that my mom is home and resting. I am settling back to life in the city. In a few days heading to Tahoe to enjoy the beauty of nature and simple snow...I am in awe, inspired, and in love with the kindness of others.

Gracias a mi virgencita de Guadalupe por no desamparar me.

Pretty Mami

Since Monday when I arrived from San Francisco any time my mom was napping I stood over her and said pretty mami, time to wake up. She would laugh and I said that was how I was going to communicate with her from deep in her drug induced haze.

At 4am when I woke up to drive her and my dad to the surgery I left my pretty mami a message in eyeliner on the bathroom mirror. When I was growing up since she would leave to work while we were still sleeping she would leave us these same notes or even kisses.

On her way into surgery my abuelita, my dad, me, my madrina, two tios, tia and primito all cheered her on. She was strong and I reminded my pretty mami to stay away from the light. She said she would, in exchange for seeing my pretty face.

The wait seemed interminable. We had lunch on the hospital patio, told stories, jokes, talked to family, I knew she was in good hands, I just wanted to see her pretty face.

And finally after five hours of surgery the surgeon confirmed, everything had gone well. I asked if he had seen anything, and he said no, nothing abnormal. The tumor had remained encased inside the removed kidney. Tears of relief and joy followed, then a text and phone tree.

It was late, and although we had been told otherwise we were allowed to see her in the surgery recovery room. First my dad and abuelita went. Then the tio and madrina. I went in with my sister. We had been told not to wake her.

We approached her quietly. Just starred at her for what felt like all of our allotted five minutes. The nurse said we could talk to her, but I just smiled not believing him. Then another nurse approached us and said we could hug and kiss her. I leaned over her and whispered pretty mami.

Pretty mami turned her face towards me and said as she opened her eyes, "I don' feel so pretty." I laughed and said, but you are beautiful. I stepped back and said look mami there are two pretty faces, she said we were beautiful.

Then she asked, "where's Janice?" I laughed oh mom, you want us to sing some Janice Joplin? Which song? And from her drug induced haze she sang, "Oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz," and I continued my friends all have Porches I must make amends...I told her to enjoy the drugs, Janice would and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

She could see the two of us and my dad standing in the near distance and she said my family is beautiful.

Dreams

I have been the majority of this month in LA. My dad says I am a brujita, I call it intuition. Before I went to the specialist with my mom and dad, I started to talk to her about a good name for the future perfect grandchild I would one day give her.

She laughs when I tell her I will have one perfect brown daughter. She reminds me the green eyes and gueritos that run in her family, could emerge from me. So I said then I would adopt from the orphanage in Aguascalientes, they have brown orphans there right? She said yes, she thought so.

We were driving to lunch on Ventura Blvd. After visiting the specialist. I took up the topic again. We settled on Laura Amparo for a girl and Ricardo Jesus for a boy. Unless I had twins I would adopt a second child from the orphanage.

I asked her the night before how she felt. She felt good she wasn't in any physical discomfort. That morning on our way to see the urological oncologist I asked again how she felt. Still she felt good. I reminded her no matter what they said she felt good, we had to stay strong and take this on aggressively. Agreed.

The specialist explained the cell mass, renal cell carcinoma. On 3D ct scan I saw the dirty kidney. Unlike typical cases this tumor sat dead center. Occupying and growing into the interior of the kidney. For this reason it was not possible to extract the almost 5cm cell mass.

The laproscopy minimally invasive surgeon had an opening, the 31st of this month. We took the appointment.

Getty Villa

Spent my day off with my parents. Started with breakfast on the patio of the historic Georgian hotel. I had been there the morning before and the art deco hotel on Ocean Avenue reminded me so much of Miami and South Beach.

We drove down the one and I mentioned I had never been to the Getty Villa. We decided to pull up to the Malibu driveway and although it was reservations only we were offered tickets on the spot.

Once inside we spent three hours enjoying the majestic grounds, on a perfectly sunny day. We reminisced about the ruins we saw first hand in Athens and Rome. Then sat out on the cafe deck amazed at the view still.

After I took this photo, I couldn't remember anything more beautiful than them.

Amazing 2008

This is going to be a very good year...

If 2007 was about attaining clarity then I have learned the following lessons.

In Academia:
* You will not know how racism feels until you experience it.
* Research needs context because context matters.
* Even when you have done everything asked of you they will deem it not enough, until you argue back and call them racist. Then you will grow wise and realize the point is to get past the moment that they have suspended you in.

In Friendship:
* Some people mature and allow the nature of their friendships to change with them.
* Some friendships you will outgrow.
* Some friendships will end because only you hold their most intimate truths, and they are not ready to face them.

In love:
* I continue to be in awe and amazed by the ease and generosity with which my parents have shared 35 years of love.
* Sometimes the person you are with does not have your best interest at heart. So you have to leave them.
* Acting in a loving way towards others sometimes means you lose, because not everyone appreciates the truth.

In Familia:
* We can only reshape memories and experiences not erase them.
* Project Martinez, Martinez has restored my hope in keeping my great grandparents ways alive for another generation.
* If you cast yourself out it is your responsibility to find your way back. In the meantime we are living the language, the culture, the food, the love we inherited from the last five generations.

Looking forward to sharing another year with my amazing; colleagues, friends, queridos, y familia.

Big Bear Mountain

Twenty-Six members of Familia Martinez Martinez prepare to ring in the New Year...Cuatro generaciones, presente!

Project Martinez Martinez

Back in Tijuana via el D.F. my prima-hermana Roque Mercado and family invited me to breakfast. We sat by the window over looking the pool and courtyard at the hotel Lucerna. It was a nice way to start the day. We told her husband and two sons about our great-grandparents and growing up with their home as the center of our family.

I had chocolate caliente, which I think is best when you float a little butter in which they had and mini-pan dulces. We talked about project Martinez Martinez. Our great-grandmother was De Silva Martinez and great-grandfather Gallegos Martinez, not related we have checked one has French lineage the other Spanish either way we are 100% Mexicanos. Aguascalientes, Mexico is where we are from.

We decided for project Martinez Martinez we would return for a pool party at the Lucerna, plan a trip to Ensenada, go further into Mexico as well, definitely a cookbook. When we told my Grandma Amparo about the cookbook she listed off recipes she learned from her mom, the only one I remember is chile verde. Either way we plan to compile this cookbook and share it with our Martinez Martinez relatives.

There we were about to lay to rest our Tio-abuelo Andres Martinez Martinez and yet our family was renewing. Back at the Buena Vista there was food and drinks, and birthday cakes too! Being in my great-grandparents home again with my Martinez Martinez family, was a celebration of life, of family, of the strength that emerges when we come together. Cuatro generaciones de amor, presente!

21

Days to break a habit...3 days to go.

Sun is shining in our lovely city and it is all good. Made my way to Amoeba, after spending the morning working from home.

Picked out Amy Winehouse, Cafe Tacuba, Manu Chao, Alejandro Saenz...After the listening station settled on La Radiolina and the Back to Black double cd import.

At the checkout when they called next the clerk smiled and said right on to me. Took that as a sign of approval. Seems you can't go wrong with an Amy Winehouse or Manu Chao purchase these day...or I have very good taste in music today.

One-hundred and Two

Blessings

My Bisabuelita Esperanza Carillo de Villareal lived to be 102. She told the family she was five years younger when she arrived to live with her daughter in Baja, California after moving from Merida years before. She had two sons Mario and Edelmiro, at 25 she had my Grandmother Julia.

My mom called before entering Mexico to tell me she would be heading straight to the mercado to see Rosie about the flower arrangements. One from each; the Salazar, Velasco Martinez, Zermeno and from her last surviving child Julia a floral casket cover. My Dad would be busy signing over the papers for the burial plot, his Grandmother was to be buried alongside her Grandson Jorge.

I would not hear from them until today, about how the rosary, velorio, misa, burial and comida went flawlessly.

My Dad told me about the changes in velorios, growing up the wake was an all night event. Today, they only go til 12am. That gave them time to rest and in the morning run around the Buena Vista with my Great Aunts Concepcion y Esperanza that would be hosting the after burial feast.

My Dad said, it was all very nice. He and his five brothers all present and greatful to the woman that had given birth to their mother Julia.

My Mother, was accompanied by her Mother and Great Aunt as well as her Sister Maria. After the mass and the burial they headed to my Mothers Great Aunts home in the Buena Vista for Chicharrones, Bistec Picado, rice, beans, salsa, tacos de panela, even though I am a vegetarian, as my dad went on to describe the feast lovingly prepared I got a little hungry. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the scents wafting from the kitchen door into the dining room. The scents that first woke me as a child as my Bisabuelita Lolita prepared the morning meals.

To me there is nothing morbid about death: I was taught how to mourn. My parents never kept me from wakes, open caskets, burials, or the celebration of life that follows. I couldn't be physically there with them, but I was there in spirit.

In San Francisco my good friend Rebekka stopped by my office, looked into mass times, met me for soup, that I was craving. Monica called to tell me she was reachable to see how I was doing, she had kept me company the previous two nights.

I didn't listen to music the whole day, took a nap, went along my day quietly. After dinner, I realized in Mexico they would be celebrating her life now. So, we went for a drink.

We made our way to the Mission to Delerium to meet with Adam, Tia, Ammie, Vinnay, and then someone coordinated a toast, to my Great Grandmother to a life well lived. I sipped my tequila knowing all the way down in Mexico, mi familia would be doing the same...

Vegas Baby

It has been a long year for the Roques' and the Salazars'. For very different reasons, but love and beauty seem to flourish after-all.

All I have to say is that at the end of the day we are so blessed our parents became such good compadres and family.

All the years we spent driving back and forth to celebrate New Year's, Thanksgiving or Noche Buena, were captured on video, photographs, but more importantly imprinted in our memory.

Here we are the next generation emerging and as close as the bonds our parents showed us. In honor of my primas 3oth we are meeting in Vegas. From Arizona, Texas, San Diego, Los Angeles, South Carolina, we are bridging four generations.

Reconstructing our family tree, to be whole, with the memories of those who no longer travel with us. Sometimes, a person is bigger than their life and other times they are just not enough person to fill what they were born into.

Either way the family continues, and continues, and one day, when we are no longer here, these trips, and memories will continue to be passed down within this family...