Soy Mexicana...

I am a first generation Mexican-American. Born in Texas and raised in the Midwest. My parents spoke only Spanish in the home. It was a very traditional home down to the the macho patriarch ruling with an iron fist. That was our home. My mom catered to my dad's every need like a good Mexican wife was expected to do.

Yet I always knew that I would never be that traditional wife that my culture expected me to become. I knew that I felt very strongly that I wanted to have the right to be something other than the doting housewife. I rebelled against the expectations that were thrusts upon me without my consent. I was the black sheep of my family for this very reason. Small price to pay in my book, for freedom of expression and freedom of choices.

So one might say that I am a Mexican woman making very American choices for myself. My choices in music and entertainment are very Americanized. I love hip hop. I am hooked on reality t.v. and I don't wait hand and foot on my husband. I don't make fresh tortillas, and have no compunction about preparing a sandwhich for him if he asks for something to eat.

So, being that I am so Americanized, it always comes as a surprise the amount of emotion that I feel whenever I hear live Mariachi music being played. I get teary eyed and my chest swells with pride. It is at that moment that I realize regardless of how I have chosen to live my life. No matter how much I have been influenced by the American culture, I am deep down still a full blooded proud Mexicana!!

Hearing that music helps me to remember my parents and all that they have taught me about my culture. It helps me to reconnect with who I am, where I'm from and the people that brought me into this world and have raised me. It's a beautiful feeling and it's one that I cherish.

~Happy St. Patrick's Day~

Today was our annual bar crawl. Every year on St. Patrick's Day there is a bar crawl for all Paramedics, Fire Fighters, and Law Enforcement personnel. It's put on by a very amazing and lovely woman, Evelyn Wolfe. She is a legend, not only for being an amazing woman in her own right, but also for being the creator and hostess of the annual bar crawl for over 20 years.

It is something that I look forward to every year, and over the years it has become a fun tradition for not only me, but my family and friends as well. This year my husband went along, beginning the day at 7 a.m. meeting a group of my co-workers for breakfast. After that we began drinking at the first bar on the list. The first of a total of 16 bars that were listed in order on the back of our t-shirts we purchased.

Our second stop of the day is the local adult book store. Fun and entertaining to go in there with a large group of intoxicated adults. Shortly after that stop we were joined by my oldest daughter and her boyfriend, along with her best friend Jenni. Also along for the fun was our newest co-worker who I am absolutely crazy about. Her name is Casy and she is an amazing lady.

I had so much fun, like I do every year, and I look forward to doing it again next year.

More fallout from myspace desertion....

So yesterday was the first time I came face to face with a couple of my close work friends. This was the first opportunity they had to grill me in person as to why I had done the unthinkable. I deleted my myspace account. I didn't expect to get the fallout that I got. Ben demanded to know what was going on. Nothing I told him, why are you convinced that something is going on? He looked at me with squinty eyes. I swear I am drunk with power at this point. To think that I have created this much of a stir is exhiliarating. They seriously think that something is "going on". I can only imagine that my friends stopped just short of calling the hospitals to check on my welfare. Maybe she's been in an accident? She could have amnesia. She's obviously suffered a severe head injury. It's the only logical explanation!!

Finally, just to get him off my case I told him that indeed there was a very good explanation for why I had deleted my account. I told him there is a more sinister plot afoot. I told him this is the first step to the conversion of all followers of Barack Obama. I told him that according to Barack the first step to being a true Muslim is to terminate all liasons to mainstream America. Crazy as it sounds, I think he kind of halfway believes me. I'm sure we will be seeing an email circulate shortly. Let me be the first to tell you, don't believe it! It's all made up by me as a way to attempt to explain my brief moment of weakness when I lost my ever loving mind and deleted myspace! What ever was I thinking? Have I indeed suffered a head injury?

Goodbye Myspace, Farewell Facebook....

I have had a Myspace account for approximately the last two years. I was a skeptic at first and was embarrassed to have one. I can't even remember how it came to be that I got a myspace page, but I remember my oldest daughter making fun of me the more I started to get into it. Apparently she was throwing in my face the fact that I was against it at first. Anyway, in the beginning I survived vicariously through my oldest daughter, meaning that her friends were my friends. As time went on, I had gained more and more of my own friends as the myspace rage made its way through my group of friends and co-workers. It was only a matter of time before I would be invited to create a facebook page, which happened sometime last year. Yes, I'm a follower, at least in this sense of the word, I clamored on board along with everyone else. Checking it incessantly multiple times a day, it really became ridiculous, at least for me it did. So the other day I did something I never thought I would do. I deleted both of my accounts. How was I supposed to know the amount of stress and strife it would create within my small circle of friends. I guess if you take anything away from this, it's that proper etiquette mandates that you send a heads up to all of your friends before doing anything as drastic as removing your myspace page or facebook page! I have had frantic messages on my cell phone and texts demanding to know what is wrong, if I'm okay, do I need to talk? What's going on? Nothing I tell them, I just got tired of having a page and they answer with hurt feelings. It's like because I canceled my page they somehow think that I am passing judgement on them for keeping theirs.
That is not the case at all....to each their own. I simply choose to keep a blog rather than myspace or facebook. God Bless this Country!

Fear and Loathing...

Things aren't right, been wrong a long while. Talked about resentments. Re-hashed old wounds. Discussed a solution. Flirted with dissolution. Strong as an old oak. We continue here standing. Looking for tomorrow. Hoping for salvation. Clinging to love. Floating in Hope. Save us, save us, save us.

Misery

I have had a cold for the last week. I was being a trooper, keeping myself well enough to go to work. But at this time I have succumbed to my illness. The cold had moved itself into my chest, resulting in a bad case of bronchitis. My chest is filled with phlegm, it feels like there is an elephant sitting on it and it burns with pain. There is only one word to describe how I feel, and that is miserable...so this is misery.

7/3/1977 age 11

Sunday, was baseball day in my family. My father was the manager of a mens baseball team which played for the a Mexican Men's League, and every Sunday Mexican families came together to watch their men compete on the baseball diamond. Things on this particular made for a very unusual day with many unexpected twists and turns.


First of all the game ended early due to a disagreement that ended in the whole game being forfeited. This was a good excuse for all the families to take the party to the local watering hole. There we all had a huge picnic. All the players and their wives, and kids were there. It was an awesome time, everyone having a good time as we all got a jump start on the holiday.


My brother Jose was there, he was my favorite of all 4 of my brothers. Jose was gentle, caring, and always took the time to talk to me and listen to me. He and I had a very special bond. He was 21 and I thought he was the coolest person in the whole entire world. My father however, did not hold the same opinion of him. It seems my father had it out for him. Always picking fights with him and humiliating him every chance he got. That day was no different. Before the game had been called my father had become very angry with Jose during the game. Yelling obsecenities at him and hurling insults in front of everyone there. It hurt my brother, but it hurt me even more to witness it.


After the rocky start to the day between the argument that caused the game to be canceled to the public display of humiliation that my brother had to endure, and we all had to witness, it was good to see everyone relaxed finally. Even Jose, I was happy to see him enjoying himself. The day had started out rocky for him and now he seemed to have put all that behind him. Which came as no surprise, for that was his nature. Quick to overcome negativity, always ready to laugh or make someone laugh. It was one of the things I loved most about him.

When he got ready to leave he said goodbye to me and I waved absent mindedly to him from the river where I was wading with the other kids looking for crawdads. I had no idea that that would be the last time I saw him alive.

When we left approximately an hour later, my 13 year old brother and I rode home with our oldest brother and his wife. On our way to our house we realized that neither of us had a house key so if the house was locked we would have no way of getting in. We arrived at our house and Tomas told me to get out and check to see if the house was unlocked. I went to the porch and turned the knob, the door opened. Tomas called me back to the car and told me that we were going to go get some Dairy Queen. I got back in the car and off we went.

On our way home after getting the ice cream we were passed by a speeding ambulance. As we pulled into our street, my heart was in my throat and my stomach fell to my feet as I realized that the ambulance was at my house, along with several police cars.

My parents had returned home while we were at Dairy Queen and my mother had entered the house to find my brother hanging from the door that led from our kitchen to our dining room. He had used a stereo. Placing it on one side of the door and using the cord to form a noose. He closed the door and hung himself.